One Rank Down, Still too Strong

The alley was wrecked.

Chunks of brick littered the ground. The walls bore deep cracks where the bull-man's fists had slammed into them. The air was thick with dust, a mix of sweat and something unnatural—something wrong.

And in the middle of it all, the cowboy barely moved. He was effortless.

The bull-man swung, his massive fist carving through the air. The cowboy only tilted his head, letting it pass within an inch of his face. Another strike—faster this time—came for his ribs. He simply stepped back, and the beast's punch met nothing but cold air.

"Holy shit," Jordan muttered, barely ducking a flying chunk of brick. "He's actually good."

Elion didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the fight, heart hammering.

The bull-man fought like a wrecking machine—each attack carrying the weight to shatter bone, brick, or anything unfortunate enough to be in the way.

But the cowboy? He wasn't fighting at all.

He was watching. Dodging. Sidestepping. Letting the bull-man tire himself out.

Jordan was still studying him. That sharp, almost obsessive focus—the same one he got when watching pro athletes. The gears in his head were turning, analyzing every dodge, every movement.

But why?

Elion exhaled sharply. "Jordan, don't tell me you're actually trying to learn from this?"

Jordan grinned, eyes still locked on the fight. "If the universe is dropping combat tutorials in front of me, I'd be an idiot not to pay attention."

Elion groaned. "No. You're planning more than that."

Jordan grinned again, and Elion knew exactly what was on Jordan's mind. He wanted to go beast hunting later.

BOOM.

The bull-man's fist missed again, colliding with the alley wall instead. The impact exploded brick outward, sending a spray of debris in all directions.

"Move!" Elion grabbed Jordan's arm and yanked him backward just as a jagged piece of stone crashed where they had been standing.

Jordan swore. "Shit—that was close."

"No kidding!" Elion hissed, shoving him behind a half-collapsed dumpster for cover.

Meanwhile, the cowboy didn't even look bothered. He landed light on his feet, his cloak barely stirring as he sidestepped another blow.

The cowboy ducked another wild swing. He barely moved an inch, like he had all the time in the world.

His boots scraped against the pavement as he pivoted. A smooth, effortless shift—just enough to let the bull-man's own momentum drag him forward.

The beast stumbled. His nostrils flared as he tried to steady himself. His hooves scratched against the pavement.

"Ronan Cross..." The name rumbled from its throat, deep and guttural—exactly what you'd expect from a bull-man who had probably never needed to use his inside voice. "You… are not supposed to meddle with the Lord's plan."

Elion's brain promptly short-circuited.

First off— the bull-man could think and talk?! That was news.

Second— he knew the cowboy?

Third— Ronan Cross? Really? That name did not sound like it belonged to a shadowy, monster-hunting, execution-happy cowboy.

"Ronan Cross, huh?" Jordan mused, tilting his head, entirely unfazed that they were being murdered in real time.

Elion side-eyed him. What exactly did he think knowing the cowboy's name was going to accomplish?

Then again, Jordan had been full of surprises tonight. Honestly, at this rate, Elion wouldn't be shocked if his next revelation was that he was part of a super-secret organization dedicated to fighting aliens or mutants.

Ronan, for his part, barely reacted. He rolled his shoulders like he was shaking off an old injury, sidestepping another pavement-cracking punch.

"Tch. Figures you'd ruin the mystery," he said.

Elion sighed. Fantastic. Now, they had two people who spoke in cryptic one-liners.

"You're making a grave mistake by going against the Lord," it rumbled. Its hooves dragged against the pavement, the rough scrape breaking the heavy silence. The sound was slow, deliberate—like a warning.

Then, the creature spoke, its voice low and unwavering. "You still have time to return to your world."

'Return to your world?' Elion was breathing hard, but he wasn't missing a word. Not a single one. And these words? That did not sound normal.

That sounded big.

Ronan, however, didn't seem impressed. He let out a slow, almost bored sigh, shifting his weight like this was just another annoying conversation at a bar.

"Lord?" Ronan repeated, his tone drenched in mockery. "What a bullshit."

"What did you say?!" The bull-man's snort ripped through the alley, low and guttural. The ground beneath Elion's feet seemed to tremble, the sound rolling through the cracked pavement like an approaching storm.

Across from him, the cowboy barely reacted. He let out a slow breath, steady and controlled as if this was just another conversation—nothing worth getting worked up over. "You want me to repeat?"

The bull-man snarled. "I WILL KILL YOU!"

"Heard that before." The cowboy stood firm. He then gestured for the bull-man to attack.

The bull-man roared and charged forward. Every step shook the ground crazily. He swung a powerful punch that could break bones, but before it hit, the cowboy raised his arm.

He hit the beast's knuckles hard, stopping the attack. He didn't flinch at all.

Elion's breath caught in his throat.

For the first time, the cowboy wasn't dodging. He was stopping the attack.

Jordan leaned forward slightly. "Oh, this is about to get interesting."

The alley vibrated from the force of the bull-man's fist pushing against the cowboy's palm, but he didn't budge. His gloved fingers tightened around the beast's knuckles.

And then, he easily twisted his grip—SNAP.

The bull-man yelled and stepped back, holding his wrist. His eyes were full of anger. He snarled, his massive form looming in the dim alley. His broken wrist, which should have rendered him useless, barely seemed to bother him.

The bull-man rolled his injured wrist, his breathing slow and steady as if the pain barely registered. Then, with a sickening pop, he snapped it back into place. The tendons stretched, the bones realigned, and he flexed his fingers like nothing had happened.

Elion did not have time to process before the bull-man's massive fist pounded against his own chest.

Once.

Twice.

The loud thuds echoed in the alley. Each hit was stronger than the last, causing vibrations in the cracked pavement.

It wasn't random. It wasn't just for the show.

Something was happening.

A dark, blood-red light appeared under his skin, spreading out from where he hit himself. The mark burned itself into existence, clear and unmistakable.

Elion felt his stomach drop. His voice came out tighter than he intended. "That mark again…"

Jordan, still catching his breath, narrowed his eyes. "Wait… that shape—why does it look so familiar?"

Elion swallowed. "Sagittarius. Zodiacs."

Jordan snapped his fingers. "That's it! No wonder it seemed familiar." But then, his brows furrowed. "Wait, hold on—why the hell does a monster have a Zodiac symbol?"

Elion had no answer. He could only stare as the mark pulsed, its glow sinking into the bull-man's body like something alive.

Because one thing was certain. It was the exact same mark the bear-man had—a Sagittarius symbol.

A bow, drawn tight with an arrow, etched directly onto his chest like a scar of power. But unlike before, where the bear-man did not transform, the bull-man did. 

And Elion was watching the transformation in real time. He could see the change spreading.

Dark veins pulsed from the symbol, creeping up his neck and coiling around his arms. The red glow sank into his muscles, sharpening, strengthening.

The air grew heavy. Suffocating.

The bull-man's eyes snapped open. The eyes were glowing in a deep, searing red. Everyone could see his muscles tighten and could feel that he grew stronger.

His hooves scraped the ground, and sparks flew as he balanced himself. He was no longer acting out of wild rage. He had a power-up.

Then, his lips twisted into a smirk. A confident one.

"Now," he said. He shook his shoulders as if he were just being freed from an invisible restraint. "I'll let you taste the power bestowed by the Lord."

The moment he spoke, the ground trembled beneath them.

Both Elion and Jordan barely had time to react before the bull-man moved.

No—vanished.

A deafening boom cracked the air as the beast shot forward, his sheer momentum splitting the pavement beneath his hooves. The shockwave alone sent a blast of force surging through the alley.

Elion felt his feet leave the ground.

The impact was instant, like getting tackled by a speeding truck. His chest caved under the force. He couldn't even take a breath before the air was ripped from his lungs.

The world spun around him. Bricks, dust, and metal mixed together in a chaotic blur until his back hit something hard. Pain exploded through him, sharp and unforgiving.

His head spun. His ribs ached. 'Shit. What just happened?'

A groan from his side told him Jordan wasn't any better off.

Elion blinked through the dust, vision swimming as he scrambled up. His hands scraped against the broken pavement, knees shaky. Across the alley, Jordan was coughing, shaking debris from his hair.

Neither of them had expected that.

Neither of them had seen him move.

And that was the terrifying part.

"Elion…" Jordan rasped, still catching his breath. "Did you—?"

"I know," Elion cut in, forcing himself to his feet. His hands clenched at his sides. "We couldn't even see him."

They turned their heads.

Ronan had taken the hit. The cowboy had barely managed to react in time, his arms crossed in defense but the bull-man's next attack slammed into his left side.

Blood sprayed from Ronan's lips.

The force sent him skidding backward, his boots carving deep lines in the pavement before his body crashed against the alley wall. The impact cracked the brick behind him.

For the first time since this fight started—he had taken damage.

Jordan's hands curled into fists. "He hit him."

And not just hit. Ronan had been tossed like a ragdoll.

The bull-man cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders. The red glow pulsed beneath his skin like molten energy, fueling him.

"Look at you," he sneered, watching Ronan wipe the blood from his mouth. "How weak you are here, Ronan." He took a step forward, hooves grinding against the pavement. "Can't even deal with a high-tier like me?"

Ronan lifted his head, his gaze sharp despite the blood smeared across his chin. He exhaled slowly, shaking out his shoulders.

Then, he laughed.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't forced. Just a short, bitter chuckle under his breath.

"High-tier?" Ronan repeated, rolling his jaw. "That's what you think this is?" He tilted his head, cracking his neck before shaking out his fingers. "You're lucky."

The bull-man bristled. "Lucky?"

Ronan's grip tightened. His fingers curled, his knuckles turning white.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Lucky I'm being suppressed a rank here."

Ronan lifted his right hand. His ring—the same black-gold ring etched with a gorilla symbol—flared.

The glow was different from the bull-man's. Not wild. Not corrupt. Controlled.

And then, before their eyes, his arm changed. The sleeve of his coat tore apart as thick, powerful muscle expanded beneath. His fingers stretched, broadening, hardening.

Dark fur erupted along his forearm, his fingers thickening into something monstrous—massive, powerful knuckles built to crush stone.

A gorilla's arm.

The bull-man's smirk faltered.

Ronan slowly flexed his new hand. His transformed fingers curled into a fist, his posture shifting.

Then, with a sharp breath, he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet to hear.

"If it wasn't for this world..." His jaw tightened. "If it wasn't for that damn incident..."

His glowing fist clenched tighter. "You would have been dead!"

Jordan stiffened beside him. "Did his arm just—"

Elion nodded slowly, eyes locked on the massive, gorilla-like limb now attached to Ronan's body. He tried to connect it with the symbol on Ronan's ring. "That ring..." he muttered.

Jordan blinked. "What ring?"

"He had one with a gorilla symbol on it." Elion exhaled. "Is he one of them?"

"I don't know, dude... " Jordan ran a hand down his face as if trying to process the layers of nonsense stacked on top of each other tonight. "First, a bear-man. Next, a bull-man. Now—what, a cowboy-gorilla hybrid?"

Elion didn't respond because he now wondered whether they would make it out alive or not tonight.

Ronan's gorilla-like arm—or whatever it was—swung forward with brutal force, catching the bull-man across the jaw. The bear-man staggered, hooves scraping against the broken pavement.

The bull-man staggered back, hooves scraping against the pavement. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving, but his eyes burned with disbelief. This wasn't supposed to happen. The Lord's power should have made him invincible.

Yet Ronan stood before him, barely winded, his gorilla fist flexing as if the fight had only just begun.

The bull-man's jaw clenched. "You… are not stronger than the Lord's will!"

His fist slammed against his own chest—once, twice. The dark veins pulsed violently, the mark on his torso glowing as if trying to reassert its dominance. "I am stronger! You should be the one on the ground!"

Ronan exhaled through his nose. "Stronger?" His fingers curled into a slow, deliberate fist. "Keep on dreaming!"

With a roar, the bull-man lunged. The pavement cracked beneath him as he threw everything into a final charge, fists raised. But Ronan barely shifted.

Then, at the last second, he sidestepped.

His counter came fast. His gorilla fist slammed into the bull-man's ribs with a sickening crack. The beast's body lifted off the ground before crashing down hard, sending debris flying.

He barely had time to cough before Ronan was already on him.

Another punch, this time to the gut. The impact sent him skidding across the pavement, gasping for air. He tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled under his own weight.

Elion felt his stomach twist.

Jordan exhaled. "This is over."

The bull-man looked up, his red eyes flickering between Ronan and his own shaking hands. "No… No, no, this isn't right!" The bull-man's breathing grew ragged. His hands clawed at his chest as if trying to force the power back into himself. "It was supposed to make me stronger!"

Ronan cracked his knuckles. "Guess you got scammed."

The bull-man snarled, lifting his fists. He wouldn't accept this. He couldn't.

Ronan moved first. A brutal uppercut to the jaw sent the bull-man airborne. His massive body twisted midair, limbs flailing—until Ronan leaped after him.

For a second, time seemed to freeze. Then, Ronan's fist plowed through his chest. A shockwave split the air. The pavement below cracked under the force.

The bull-man's body convulsed once. Then, like a lifeless puppet, he crashed to the ground.

Silence.

Elion did not realize he had been holding his breath. Jordan ran a hand down his face. "Okay. That was insane."

The fight was over. And Ronan hadn't just won. He had ended it.

Ronan, meanwhile, cracked his knuckles, his usual lazy expression returning as he dusted off his cloak.

That was when he turned, seemingly remembering something. He glanced at the alley floor—where hundreds of rings lay scattered. His expression shifted.

"Damn it… I forgot."

And right then—the rings trembled.

Elion and Jordan could feel something was amiss. A weird pull in the air, like the moment before a storm hits. Their hearts skipped a beat.

Jordan tensed, shoulders locking up as his fists curled. Despite the pain, he was ready for anything that was coming.

The cowboy grimaced. "Ah, hell."

Then—the rings started rising. One by one, like they had been yanked by invisible strings, they shot into the air—spiraling upwards, scattering like fireworks launching into the sky.

Elion and Jordan froze, watching dozens—hundreds—or more rings scatter toward who knew where.

Elion felt a chill down his spine. "That's not a good thing, right?"

Jordan's voice was quiet. "Not even a little."

Ronan sighed and rubbed his temple as he watched the last of the rings fade into the night. He then put his hands in his coat pockets and let out another sigh, treating it like just another day.

"What a bad day…"

Elion's eye twitched. "What happened?!" he raised his voice because he knew that the rings' disappearance would spell more trouble.

The cowboy turned back to them, completely unbothered. "I think that's going to be a problem."

Elion gestured wildly at the now-empty ground where more than hundreds of potentially cursed rings had just flown off into the world. "YOU THINK?!"

Ronan shrugged. "Not my fault. That's on you two."

Jordan blinked. "Wait, how is that our fault?"

Ronan pointed at Jordan. "You chased them."

Then he pointed at Elion. "You distracted me."

Elion clenched his jaw. "Are you actually blaming us for—"

Ronan cut him off with a wave. "Doesn't matter. They're gone. Someone's gonna find them. Then we'll have more of these idiots running around." He gestured lazily toward the unconscious bull-man.

Jordan's expression hardened. "And what exactly are they?"

Ronan gave him a long look. "They're…. Uh. Never mind."

For a second, he almost answered. Then, just as quickly—he turned away. "Too much for you to handle," he said simply. Then, stepping over the rubble, he looked at the bull-man's fallen body.

For a second, Elion thought the bull-man might respond. Maybe some last growl of defiance, some final attempt at making sense of whatever just happened.

But nothing came.

No twitch. No breath. Just stillness.

The massive creature lay there, unmoving—its hulking form slumped against the rubble, limbs awkwardly sprawled. His massive chest, which had been heaving with rage just moments ago, was now eerily silent.

Was he dead?

Elion exchanged a glance with Jordan, who seemed to have the same thought.

Ronan, however, barely spared the fallen beast a second look. He exhaled through his nose, adjusting his hat with a slow, practiced motion—completely unbothered.

"Figures."

Without hesitation, he stepped forward, boots crunching over the scattered debris. Not in a hurry. Not cautious. Just completely assured.

"Not even worth the trouble," he muttered, walking toward the bull-man's unmoving body.

A sharp, wet crack echoed through the alley. Ronan stopped mid-step.

Elion's stomach twisted. "Did that body just—"

Before he could finish, the bull-man's fingers twitched—then curled, slow and deliberate, like something waking up.