Fist Fight

Turning around, Zaroth saw a man with an average build, accompanied by two others—one shorter and the other chubby.

'How the hell are these three allowed in A-class?' Zaroth asked himself.

"Who am I? I'll tell you—I'm not some street rat who somehow got accepted into A-class without a good reason, like you."

"It's better to be a rat than a parasite like you. Judging by your performance during training earlier, you were probably worse than average," Zaroth retorted.

"The fuck did you just say? Are you begging for a fight?"

"Yeah, sure, why not? Unlike you, I can fight. My score was the highest in the entire empire. Where was yours?" Zaroth's voice was filled with sarcasm and mockery.

"Oh, that's right, I wouldn't know because I don't even know your name. That's how insignificant you are."

"Insignificant, huh? But we're three against one," the shorter boy interjected, trying to back up his friend, who was struggling to keep up.