I then passed onto another field of

potens research. The development

of abilities were definitely surprising. They

seemed to evolve with culture and

tradition. I guessed that’s how Richard

Dawkins felt whilst observing memes.

-Richard J. Richter, from the Colorado University

“Duck!”

Ludwig dropped his whole body into a crouch, barely dodging the hook that flew over his head. He then tightened his legs and kicked the ground with all his strength, wielding a blue glove aimed at his opponent’s head. He had rotated his right leg the perfect amount, pushed hard with both metatarsus, and basically used the entirety of the muscles from his upper train, which were screaming in excitement. This was his best uppercut yet.

Which made it worse when Logan pushed his head back, easily evading it and moving quicker than what he looked capable of.

Logan then lifted his right leg, quickly placing it in Ludwig’s chest as he was vulnerable, and pushed with the power of a horse. Ludwig went flying across the padded floor, falling on his back and then tumbling for a bit until he stopped.

His head was pounding, his body was aching, and the beast inside was angry at him. It began roaring, wanting to leave his body and set rampage in the outer world.

(It will come, just wait.)

Ludwig tried to get up, but he was too dizzy to do it on his own.

“Are you okay?!” Logan said, worried.

The big man came to his aid and basically lifted him up off the floor, holding him until he was able to stand for himself.

“I’m fine,” Ludwig said whilst holding his head with one hand.

(Your definition of fine seems very inclusive,) Wagner reverberated.

“I know you told me to go hard, but you’ve only been here for two weeks! And you wanted to spar with me,” the tall black man said, pointing at himself. “I’m double your weight!”

“I know, I know,” Ludwig said before giving out a pained sigh. “Ok. How about I stretch over there, give some time for the pain to go away, and then keep going, eh?”

“I would prefer it if you stretched and went home,” Logan said while crossing his arms. “Ludwig, you’re new. You don’t have to work one hundred and twenty percent all the time. Have patience, no one is rushing you.”

The beast inside disagreed. It began to growl as its anger grew.

“How about I stretch, practice a bit with the punching bag and then go home?”

Logan stood there and stared at him with a solemn gaze.

The man was six foot something, or… One hundred and eighty or ninety centimeters tall. His whole body, including his bald head, was lightly glistening with sweat. His clothes, a light blue T-shirt and black shorts, were darkened and tight around his body due to his many, many muscles. His head was sharp and defined by his bones, with dark eyes that were looking at Ludwig similar to how an impassive predator watches a defenseless prey.

“Tch. Fine… Fifteen minutes on the punching bag and no more,” he said, wagging his index finger.

He then left and began coaching other students.

Ludwig went to his locker and put his bluetooth headphones on before returning to the main area. He then began to stretch near the red and black punching bags whilst listening to music. He was listening to a Jenkins' concerto.

Ludwig began to stretch his arms just as he saw Logan telling a teen he wasn’t giving enough rotation to his kicks. Was his name Ryan?

Ludwig then lowered his head and thought about the first time he came to the gym. It had been surprising.

After seeing the poster near a coffee shop, Ludwig went to check the gym out. The establishment had been quite similar to what he expected: blue and red tiled and padded square floor, several punching bags and training dummies, and a ring near the right corner opposite to the entrance. Everything was fairly average. But what had surprised him had been Logan.

The enormous man, who was younger than Ludwig, looked like a heavyweight pro fighter, capable of breaking each and every bone of your body with a pat on the back. Yet, once he started talking with him, Ludwig got a very different sensation from the man.

To put it simply, he was a giant and very muscular teddy bear.

Logan almost started crying once he had learnt that Ludwig had been assaulted, after asking why he wanted to learn self defense. Though Ludwig hadn’t told him that he wanted it for self defense, the man assumed that that was his reason to learn.

Which was true. Just that he also wanted it for ‘self attack’.

Ludwig then spread his legs on the floor and began stretching his lower body.

(Your combat capabilities have improved.)

“Slightly,” Ludwig whispered.

(It still is progress. Patience might be a good option. Though if your emotional health is in danger, we may not dragg around too much.)

Ludwig growled. Patience.

The beast inside also growled at the idea, getting even angrier.

It wanted to be unleashed. Set chaos. Begin the hunt for revenge. Which made Ludwig’s temper falter for a moment, almost taking control of him.

Ludwig had improved.

He now knew how to throw semi decent punches. Although that only included the regular one two and a very sloppy uppercut. The one he had just thrown had been one in a million. He had learnt how to dodge thanks to being constantly hit, and he knew some kicks but…

But it was just not enough.

He had been practicing eight hours a day for the entire time he had been there, training until vomiting, which was normally when Logan sent him home. He had bled, sweated, and cried. He was giving it his all and more.

Then why? Even though it had only been two weeks, he should be better, right? His effort should have rewarded him more. Or was he not pouring enough? Maybe this was useless and he had picked the wrong choice. It wasn’t his fault, it was the program’s, right?

The beast inside howled in agreement. Hunt. It wanted to go forth.

Was he the useless side character in a fantasy novel? The one who couldn’t protect himself? The one who was always needing the other characters' help? The miserable one…?

The beast inside growled at the thoughts. It then roared at them in denial to scare them away.

No. He wasn’t. He wasn’t miserable. He didn’t need the pity of others. He would prove it. Prove it to those who look down on him. Prove it to this world with a cruel sense of humor. That he was stronger…

But how?

Ludwig stretched his hands out forward, laying them on the floor, and lowered his head while his legs spread even more to both sides.

“Hello ma’am, how can I help you?” Logan asked someone in the entrance who Ludwig couldn’t see.

“Hi,” the voice of a woman said, insecure. “Are you the one who’s teaching self defense?”

Ludwig raised his head and saw the woman. She was a brunette with long hair, dressed in a sleeveless shirt and black pants. Her round face had brown eyes and a wary look.

“That would be me, yes.”

“I would like to subscribe to your course, or program, or whatever it is,” the woman said, almost with an afraid tone.

“Are you alright ma’am? You sound a little bit nervous. Did something happen?”

“It’s just… You know Silksong Street?”

“Yeah. It's north of here, right?”

“Yes. Well… There’s been an increase in drunkards and… Someone I know got attacked some days ago. I don’t go to bars, or even out late at night, but… It's scary,” the woman said, tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

“Hey, hey. It's ok. Don’t worry about it,” Logan said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Come on. Let me introduce you to someone, alright? I think that might help.”

He then took her away and introduced her to a group of women that were sparring in the middle. Logan’s gym was more popular with women than with men. Maybe it was due to the fact that it was promoted as a place to learn self defense.

But that wasn’t important right now.

“It looks like we found a place to try our ‘combat capabilities,’” Ludwig whispered. “Let the hunt begin.”

Wagner then seemed to thrum in a curious way.

(What is a ‘drunkard’?)

—-----

Ludwig crossed the street to the right sidewalk.

He was wearing a black hoodie, some gray sweatpants, and black trainers.

(People get intoxicated… Because they want to?) Wagner reverberated.

“Yes. They do it because they find it funny or to forget something,” Ludwig said.

It was late at night and there was no one in the streets. Ludwig hoped he hadn’t gone to the wrong address.

Wagner began to reverberate once again. Excited.

“No, it won’t improve my emotional health,” Ludwig said before Wagner could echo something.

It then stopped resonating.

Ludwig turned right into an alleyway. The smell of trash and piss was reeking in the dark and small aperture between buildings.

(Are you sure about this?)

“We have to make sure the training we’ve been taking these last weeks is reliable. What better way to try it out than with a small threat?” Ludwig asked.

(It seems you have a point.)

Yes, he was justified. The only way he could get payback was getting stronger. He had to know. Only practical knowledge and experience would teach him properly. This was the only way. This was necessary… Wasn’t it?

Ludwig resorted to the beast inside for answers, but it didn't give justifications. It didn't need them. It only cared for the hunt. It was so close.

If the beast inside didn’t need any reason, so did he… Besides, the drunkards were attacking people.

(They don’t have to.)

Ludwig stopped in the middle of the alleyway.

“What?” He asked.

(These ‘drunkards’ you are going to fight, they may not be the same that attacked the mentioned individual.)

But then… Then… Was he doing something…?

“But they’re scaring the people living in this area. They frighten them. They’re harming the emotional health of the neighbors.”

(That I cannot rebate.)

Yes, he had his reasons. And they were valid. Ludwig wasn’t the one who did bad things. He was the one who was affected by the cruelty of the world. And he would get… Revenge…?

Ludwig saw a group of three men entering the alleyway from the other end. They stenched of liqueur and were babbling with each other whilst trying not to fall, taking a sudden step every once in a while. They seemed to be a little too old to be getting that drunk at this time of night. They looked like they were in their forties.

His opportunity had come.

(I should get them to attack me first,) Ludwig thought.

(Why?) Wagner reverberated.

(If I cause them serious harm or they somehow are able to remember my face, I don’t want them to report me.)

(Report you?)

(I would get reported to the local authorities. Therefore, I would get in trouble. Serious trouble.)

(Mmh. There are more factors than what I thought in meeting a drunkard…)

Ludwig began walking and approached the drunk men.

“Oh,” one of the men said, the one in the front. “What do we have here?”

“You look a bit young to be here this late at night,” one of the others said, taking a step. “You should probably go home.”

The group then seemed to ignore Ludwig and walk right past him.

…That was… Unexpected. And not the outcome he was hoping for. Though that didn’t mean that he was going to let it slide.

“God!” Ludwig said, reaching for his nose. “You guys stink! You smell like piss!”

This had been the first tactic that crossed his mind. He had seen sober people fighting for less, so he hoped his plan would work.

“Ah?” The man that hadn’t spoken yet then said. “Wha’ the fuck are you on, lad?” He said in a British accent.

“Nothing, though it seems you’re on a very high dose of pig piss, you… pig. You stinking pile of… cat vomit.”

Ludwig wasn’t very good at insults. Thankfully, alcohol helped a lot in that department.

“I’ll fucking wet ya, kid!”

The British lad approached Ludwig, getting ready to punch him. But Ludwig moved faster. He struck him in the side of the head with a right straight punch.

“Whoa, whoa!” One of the other men said, as he began to walk towards them. “Cut it out!”

Ludwig then hit the lad with a light left straight followed by a heavy right hook, throwing him to the ground. He saw how his body fell, defeated. Weak.

The other man approached and threw a sloppy kick that Ludwig grabbed with both arms. He then kicked the man’s other leg and threw him to the ground before kicking him in the face, repeatedly. His shoe got stained with blood coming from the man’s face.

(You weren’t taught that move,) Wagner reverberated as he saw the beating.

It… It… Was so easy. He was knocking them without a sweat. Ludwig was basically playing with them. He was far superior than them… Yet, what was this feeling…?

Ludwig got struck in the back. Everything faded to black.

—-----

Ludwig slowly left his unconsciousness.

He was laying down on his side in the dark alleyway. He was able to see how the remaining man was helping up his friend, who had a bloody nose.

(Ah… Shit,) Ludwig thought.

A pain began to burn his nape, extending down his back after. He had to get up.

Ludwig tried to use his arms to pull himself up.

“Shit! He’s still going,” the man being helped said.

Ludwig then saw how something in his peripheral vision approached. He was kicked in the face. His whole body turned upside down, his back against the floor.

“That’s what you fucking get!” The British lad said.

He then began to kick him in the stomach.

“God! Noah, calm the fuck down!” The man who was helping his friend said. “That’s enough! He can’t get up. Look at him!”

The friend lying on his shoulder then approached Ludwig and began kicking him as well.

“What the fuck?! You too, Mickey? What’s wrong with you?!”

Ludwig felt how the air got out of his lungs every time a kick smashed his stomach. He could feel the cold impact, shocking his whole system, as well as the increasing pain that came afterwards, like a bitter aftertaste.

Ludwig covered his nape and adopted a fetal position.

He then closed his eyes.

The beast inside began to growl. It was getting angrier.

Ludwig didn’t deserve that. He was doing back what had been done to him. What was so wrong about that?

The beast began to roar.

Rage. Wrath. Fury. Anger. Guilt… Guilt…

Guilt?

Ludwig felt something inside him. Something aside from the beast and its anger. Something that seemed to obfuscate its presence. Something he hadn’t seen, yet had a familiar presence. It was staring at him. Shaming him. Criticizing him.

Guilt.

He was the one who had searched for a fight. Why was he getting so angry?

Guilt.

He was the one that wanted to test his strength. This was the result. He was weak. Why was he getting so angry?

Guilt.

He was the one who retaliated. Things had happened to him, but why did he want to do those things to other people? Why was he getting so angry?

Guilt.

Ludwig stared at himself from the inside.

A piece of Ludwig. A different Ludwig. But at the same time the same person. An aspect of himself, criticizing him. Silently judging him. Looking at what he was becoming.

Miserable.

Why was he getting so angry?

Frustration.

(BECAUSE IT ISN’T FAIR!)

“Leave… Leave that poor kid … Alone,” a fourth voice said between burps.

“I’m outta here!” One of the men said.

Ludwig then heard footsteps getting away, running.

“This is none of your business,” the British lad said to the fourth man.

“Leave the-,” the newcomer stopped to retain his own vomit.

“This shithead began attacking us out of nowhere! We’re just giving him what he deserved,” one of the men near Ludwig said.

“Then… Then it seems that’s… Enoug-,” the newer voice said before barfing, the sounds being muffled by half digested pieces of food and liquids falling and splashing on the floor, making a disgusting sound.

“The fuck are you doing, you wanker?!” The British lad said, clearly disgusted by the show.

The puke continued to flow. Like a disgusting and gross fountain spilling its water into the plaza that was the alleyway’s floor.

“Oh my-,” the other man said as his own barf tried to come out.

“Fuck! It’s giving me a stomach ache! Let’s get the fuck out here.” The British lad said.

Ludwig was then able to hear multiple footsteps getting further away as the river of vomit ceased. He opened his eyes and got up, almost falling due to the dizziness he had. He then looked at the sky and saw a black void without stars. Empty.

“Ooh,” the man behind him said. “Now that was nasty. Hey, you okay?”

Ludwig kept looking at the stars in silence.

“They got you good. Though you don’t seem to have a lot of bruises. Plus you're young. You’ll be fine.”

The man then chugged the bottle of vodka which he held in his right hand. After taking a big sip, he burped and looked at Ludwig with a bit of vomit in his lower lip.

The man had long and brown hair, similar to Ludwig’s, as well as a beard wet with liqueur. His blue eyes reflected the little light coming from the streetlights next to both ends of the alleyway. He was wearing a black T-shirt with a green jacket on top, worn blue jeans and brown shoes.

“Don’t feel so bad. It could’ve been way worse if I hadn’t saved you.”

Ludwig gazed at the man intensely.

“You just puked your whole stomach out.”

“Yeah that felt good,” the man said as he chugged from his bottle. “You know? If you’re feeling sad… What’s your name?”

“Ludwig.”

“You know, Ludwig? If you’re feeling sad, try and help someone out. I just helped you and it felt great,” the man said as he stretched his arms outwards and almost fell. “Now that I think about it, didn’t I want to help people?”

The man entered the lit street with a shaky pace and his almost empty glass of vodka, leaving Ludwig alone in the alleyway.

Ludwig looked at his hand. A purple thread pulled out of his skin, making it stretch around the area. It then curled around his index finger.

The presence he had felt before was now gone, but the guilt remained. The beast inside was also present, though it had faded to the background, almost as if it were asleep. Despite that, its anger still remained.

The thread began to turn red.

He would get his revenge. The hunt wouldn’t stop until he had his prey.

The thread then returned to its previous purple tone.

That said, he wouldn't be as unfair as life was.

Only one was the prey that he was chasing.