Chien Dai [3]

Days passed quickly.

Chien Dai had fought desperately to avoid being the second-to-last in every training session. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he was still the smallest. In terms of speed and strength, he lagged behind the others—weak, fragile, prey.

Fortunately, he had something the others didn't.

An unseen force guided him, whispering his opponents' weakest points to him when he fought. But it only surfaced when he was at the brink of death. That meant he never left a fight unscathed. Every match ended with him being dragged to the treatment room, barely clinging to life, forced to swallow the little girl's bitter medicine to survive.

Tonight, Chien Dai sat curled on his bed, knees drawn tightly to his chest. The night stretched deep, but his eyes refused to close.

The massive barracks that once held so many children were nearly empty now. Only one other bed was occupied—far across the room. A boy, ten years old and built like a beast, slept soundly, unmoved by the weight of what tomorrow would bring. Either he didn't care, or he was too confident to fear death.

Chien Dai exhaled shakily. His fists clenched unconsciously, his thin arms trembling.

Today, for the first time, he hadn't fought. He hadn't been the second-last. He had stood among the spectators, watching as his 'friend' was butchered in the dirt.

It had been a different kind of horror.

Watching the fight was like watching a pack of wild beasts, merciless and bloodthirsty. They didn't hesitate. They didn't flinch. They slaughtered because they had to.

And now, there were only two boys left.

Him. And the monster sleeping across the room.

Tomorrow...

Tomorrow, only one of them would leave the field alive.

A sharp hiss broke the silence.

Chien Dai flinched, snapping his head toward the window near his bed. A small figure appeared in the glassless opening.

The little girl.

Chien Dai rushed to her. She had come for him.

She extended her hand. In her palm lay a thin, needle-like object wrapped in a leaf.

"Here."

He took it hesitantly.

"Be careful not to prick yourself," she warned. "It's poisonous. It will blur his sight and stiffen his muscles for a few minutes."

Chien Dai blinked at her in shock. "Why...?"

She smiled softly.

"Because I like you more."

Before he could react, she leaned in and pressed a quick, feather-light kiss to his cheek.

"So, you must live."

Then, just as swiftly as she had appeared, she was gone.

Once again, Chien Dai stood on the barren, blood-soaked ground.

His opponent loomed before him—a massive ten-year-old boy cracking his knuckles, warming up like this was just another round of practice.

Beyond the circle, two Westerners observed from a distance, standing beside their elders, their eyes scanning for the strongest.

"Start!"

The elder's voice rang out, cutting through the air.

The huge boy didn't rush. He sauntered toward Chien Dai with lazy confidence, stopping just two feet away before pulling back his fist and swinging.

Chien Dai dodged, barely. With all the power he had, he slammed his tiny fist into the boy's stomach.

A loud crack echoed.

Chien Dai froze. A sharp, searing pain exploded in his hand. He staggered, gripping his wrist, his entire arm burning.

The huge boy barely reacted. He smirked.

Then, without warning, he grabbed Chien Dai by the collar and hurled him into the dirt.

Chien Dai crashed face-first. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth, his chest caving under the impact.

His opponent leaped, ready to crush him.

Chien Dai rolled at the last second. The boy's feet slammed into the ground just inches away. Dust exploded around them, filling Chien Dai's lungs. He choked.

A brutal kick to his stomach sent him sprawling. Blood sprayed from his lips.

"Stand up!"

His opponent hissed, kicking a cloud of dust into his face.

Chien Dai coughed violently, struggling to rise. His arms trembled as he forced his upper body up, trying to kneel.

Another kick—this time to his jaw.

Chien Dai's body lifted off the ground before slamming back down. His head spun. Everything blurred.

The huge boy stalked toward him, but this time, instead of another kick, he grabbed Chien Dai by the shoulder and yanked him upright.

Then, the punches began.

One after another.

Fists crashed into Chien Dai's face. His ribs. His stomach.

He was a lifeless punching bag, absorbing the blows without a single attempt to block them.

His vision blurred. His body swayed.

He was nothing.

A toy.

A weakling.

A disappointment.

And then—

"Finish him!"

The elder's impatient voice boomed.

The Westerners were watching. They needed an answer.

The huge boy nodded, his lips twisting in cruel amusement.

He grabbed Chien Dai's throat with one hand, lifting him slightly off the ground.

Then—

A sharp sting.

The boy's eyes widened.

His grip on Chien Dai loosened.

His free hand flew to his neck, where the thin needle had pierced his skin.

"What—?!?"

A second later, his sight blurred. His muscles stiffened. His balance faltered.

He stumbled back, legs shaking, before collapsing onto his knees.

Chien Dai barely had the strength to stand, so he crawled.

He dragged himself toward the huge boy, who stared at him with a mixture of confusion and dawning horror.

Chien Dai's small fists clenched.

Then, with every last ounce of strength left in his body—

He punched.

At first, they were weak, barely more than desperate jabs. But something guided him. That same unseen force. His fists found their marks—

The liver.

The lungs.

The heart.

Every strike landed with surgical precision.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

The boy's body convulsed with each hit, eyes wide in disbelief, mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish.

Chien Dai didn't stop.

Didn't think.

Didn't breathe.

"Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!!"

His world turned red.

The only sound was the sickening crunch of breaking bones.

He only stopped when his body could no longer move.

His strength abandoned him.

Chien Dai collapsed, unconscious, over his lifeless opponent.

-

My eyes twitch uncontrollably as I watch the young boy approach me.

His steps are slow, unhurried. Indifferent.

Blood drips from his face, his body—some of it his own, most of it his opponent's.

He has just beaten another boy to death with his bare hands, and yet, there is no triumph in his expression. No relief. No remorse. Just a hollow emptiness that stretches deeper than his wounds.

I can't look away.

The moment I chose not to reject his invitation—to see who I truly was—he dragged me back into the life of a boy called Chien Dai.

I wasn't inside that memory.

I wasn't living it.

I was merely a beholder, standing outside the scene, watching as the young boy stepped in and became Chien Dai.

He had relived every moment, every breath, every drop of blood spilled.

And I had been forced to witness it all.

Now, as he stands before me, his expression unreadable, he finally speaks.

"That's Chien Dai. The original you."

His voice is flat, devoid of emotion.

I narrow my eyes. "What happened to him?"

The young boy shrugs, his face as blank as ever.

"He became Quint Rauss."