"Tooth, Shorty, leave him," - said Scar. "We can't take him down. Get out of here, buddy, and try not to be rude to some honest thieves."

"Is that all?" - the guy was surprised. "Are the attempts over? You won't ask my story, ask me to join your party?"

"A party?" - Scar was confused.

"I'm not good at thieves' slang, like, working together, making a deal? No?"

"You sound strange, mate, but no. I'm not taking any more chances now when you've taken down my partner and discouraged a desperate Shorty. You're cursed, boy. I've had enough of your shitty karma."

"Oh," - the young man said. "Ok, you have a reason. I gotta keep on drinking then."

He was turning to leave the alley when a voice came from behind.

"Stop, you freak, I won't let you do this," - the toothless man said, getting up from the ground.

"Tooth, I said get off!" - Scar tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen.

The toothless picked up a metal bar from the ground and with his left hand, because the right one was broken with his own brass knuckles, he swung at the boy. He wanted to stab him in the back, thinking that the surprise effect might work. Besides, the pain had blinded his mind, and a dull vengeance begged him to quench his thirst.

The rod whistled through the air, and the young man turned just in time to meet the attack. At that moment, something changed.

Wow, this is new, he thought.

Time slowed down. The young man watched as the metal bar slammed into his unprotected side. He saw the toothless man's face, twisted with pain and rage. He saw how shorty put his hands together in prayer, hoping that the rod would be stronger than the knife. He saw how scar shaked his head.

The metal bar hit him at the side. At the same moment, pain shot through his body. The surprise effect did work, but no one expected what would follow. Even a young man who wanted to die.

I'm not controlling my body right now! - the thought flashed through his mind as he continued to turn back, simultaneously raising his arm to strike. The left fist seemed to have clenched itself, without the owner's will, to fly at the toothless man's face. A powerful blow shattered the remaining teeth, dislocated the jaw and threw the unfortunate thief several meters away.

"I told you to leave him!" - Scar shouted as toothless fell right at his feet. "Shorty, back up!"

The short man glanced at the leader, not understanding why he had ordered them to retreat if he had no intention of doing anything. Turning his head back to the young man, he understood the Scar's reason. There was fire in the stranger's eyes. Not figuratively, but a real fire burned in his eyes as he took a step toward Shorty.

Shorty didn't have time to protect himself when a foot in a leaky boot smashed through his skull. He immediately fell to the ground, permanently unconscious.

The young man tried to say something, but a growl escaped from his mouth. He tried to stop and walk out of the alley, but his feet carried him toward the two thieves. Tooth and Scar tried to run away, but froze in horror when they saw the flames in the man's eyes.

I'm damned, - the young man thought. I don't control my body, I can't say anything, but at least I can think. And this shit doesn't suit me at all!

A low growl escaped his mouth as he leaped forward and landed with his knees on top of the toothless man, who had barely managed to stand up. The weight of his body, reinforced by the jump, broke the toothless man's ribs, finally pinning him to the ground. The young man, his eyes blazing, rose from the thief's limp body and looked at Scar. The man stood motionless.

"Damn demon," - Scar muttered. "Go away. Get out!"

Scar let out a desperate cry, but it didn't help. He had fought in war and seen many things. Including the possessed soldiers that have lost all sense of their own safety, rushing into attack. But now, something was happening before him that he had never seen before. This person didn't just enter a berserk state, he was initially invulnerable. And Scar, who had been through more than one war, knew how slim his chances were.

In war, such a cry might have snapped a warrior out of his trance when he charged, losing all sense of himself. But in the case of this guy, the feeling didn't go away. He could see what he was doing, but he couldn't stop. Coming close, the young man hit Scar with his head and broke his nose. A savage pain caused Scar to bend, and at that moment, his face met a knee. His mind went blank.

Stop the fuck, - he prayed to himself. What am I doing? Body, what are you doing?! Stop, stop, I don't want to kill anyone!

The young man took a couple of steps back and fell on his knees. Those knees just killed two people. The realization of his own power scared him, scared him so much that he felt sick. The fire in his eyes began to fade as his vomit made his body bend.

"Aaagh," - he growled, spitting vomit out. An unpleasant taste filled his mouth, and his throat burned unbearably. He felt terribl thirst. "God, that's disgusting. Well, at least I am able to speak again. Fuck…"

He stood up, staggering, unable to believe what had happened to him.

"I need to get out of here before I kill someone else. Damn."

He trudged wearily out of the alley. On the way, he glanced at the poor shorty. The short thief was laying in a pool of blood that had oozed from his shattered head.

How the fuck is this even possible, - the young man lamented, averting his eyes, which had suddenly become treacherously wet. I don't understand where I am or what is happening to me. Is this my personal hell? I've never been a bad guy. Hell, I've never even fought!

"I'm exhausted," - he whispered as he stepped out into the wide street.

There was a light in windows in a distance, and he went to that light, hoping to find a bed there. He was really lucky to find a tavern with rooms on the second floor. He opened the double doors of the tavern, and a smell of food filled his nostrils accompanied by many voices.

I hope I didn't throw all my coins to those thieves.

He fumbled in his pockets and realized that if he wanted to drink even a glass of water today and sleep on a soft bed, he would have to improvise.

"Bartender, pour me some beer," - he came to the bar and sat down on a high chair.