Struggle is real

They say struggle is the first teacher.

Not the kind that cares for you and talks to you in a warm tone, or waits for you to raise your hand when you needed help.

Nope. Struggle is a brutal teacher.

It does not explain things, it only demands. It breaks you apart from your comfort and whispers, 'Adapt or fall.'

And if you refuse to listen, it doesn't wait, it simply moves on, leaving you behind in the wreckage of your excuses.

And on this night, beneath the flickering lights and the looming shadow of a rigged casino, struggle had chosen its next students.

Nova stepped to the side, a right hook cutting past his cheek like a gust of wind.

He didn't flinch, instead he lifted his leg and kicked the man who had lunged at him, catching him square in the chest.

The man staggered, and Nova used the space to take a step back, lungs burning as he tried to catch his breath.

He glanced around the lot.

Trev was still at the front, fist colliding with a man's jaw so hard the sound echoed off the cars. The poor bastard flew backward, but another took his place instantly.

Trev's shirt clung to him now, sweat darkening the fabric down his back. Nova can see that Trev was slowing down.

Luca moved like smoke between vehicles, weaving through gaps of the parked cars, forcing them to take him on one by one.

Nova caught a glimpse of him ducking, grabbing a man's wrist mid-swing, and twisting it so violently that the attacker dropped with a scream.

Mari? She still had that weird, mischievous smile plastered across her face.

She spun on her heel and nailed someone with a kick to the gut. Her form was sharp, taekwondo-trained, and for some reason she was enjoying this.

And then there was Joel.

Nova's eyes found him darting through the lot like a mouse running away from a cat. Four, maybe five guys chased him in circles. At one point he screamed, "Stop following me, I'm innocent!" as if that would change anything.

At first, it had all seemed manageable. Trev was holding the line, keeping the bulk of them at bay. The rest chipped away at the edges.

Nova thought maybe they could fight it out. But it was all wishful thinking on his part.

Trev didn't know mana. He wasn't a superhero either, no matter how much he looked like one with his mountain-sized frame and steel-forged arms. Real fights don't wait for people to rest.

After a few brutal minutes, even Trev began to falter.

When the attackers swarmed in groups instead of singles. Pressure closed in from all directions.

Nova exhaled slowly.

This wasn't even a serious vendetta.

They just wanted to beat them bloody, bruise their pride, and walk away victorious.

But that was not the main problem of the night.

Because he saw something that nearly made him puke blood.

"You… STOP!"

His voice tore through the chaos. His eyes sharpened in disbelief. For a second, he'd almost forgotten the entire reason they came here in the first place.

Cyrus Vane, that bastard he painstakingly knocked out, dragged through the casino and hauled into the parking lot, was now standing in the middles of the chaos… and jogging away like he was out for a morning run.

 "Stay right there! You fucker!"

Cyrus, hearing Nova's shout, stumbled to his feet.

His hands were tied, his head wobbled as if the world was tilting sideways, but when he saw Nova and the others mid-fight, the realization hit him hard.

That blank look on his face twisted into pure 'Oh shit,' and without another thought, he turned his heel and started jogging away.

"Unbelievable," Nova hissed through his teeth. "He's getting away! Fuck!"

He tried to push through, throwing elbows and shoving bodies, but the men surrounding him weren't trying to kill him, they were just pinning him down, keeping him busy. Like they were never meant to win. Just… stall.

That's when something clicked.

Nova's eyes darted toward Joel, still sprinting in panic loops around, five suited men chasing after him like it was a game of tag.

Why Joel?

Then it hit him.

"Joel!" Nova shouted, kicking a guy off his leg and sprinting toward him. "Get out of here!"

"What?! No! I'm not leaving you guys!" Joel yelled, ducking behind a car door for cover. His voice was full of pride, righteous as hell. Like he thought this was his big heroic moment.

"Leave now!" Nova barked, deflecting a punch with his forearm.

"No! This is my fight too!" Joel shouted, chest puffed like he was ready to die a martyr.

"That's the point, idiot!"

Joel froze. "What?"

"They only want you!" Nova snapped. "So run, you damn bait!"

Joel blinked. Realization dawned on him.

His eyes shifted to the men chasing him. Then to Nova, then back to the others.

"Oh."

Nova nodded once, an intense look in his eyes that screamed: I got this. Just go.

"God damn it, Nova! You owe me for this!" Joel turned and bolted away in another direction, legs pumping like his life depended on it.

Nova smirked, flicking some blood from his knuckles. "This is your fault to begin with," he muttered, watching his friend zigzag through the parking lot like a cornered rabbit.

The old man in the car slammed a fist on the armrest. "Don't let him get away!"

And like wolves spotting the scent trail, the men immediately diverted from the group and chased after him.

Nova used the moment, elbowing aside one last attacker and planting a solid kick into his gut. The man crumpled easily. That left only a few still lingering.

"Go help Joel," Nova called out, breathing heavy but grinning now. "I'll catch up to that prick."

Mari, brushing her dusty pants, gave a nod. "Go ahead. We'll cover him."

Now, with the pressure easing, he could finally go after the real target, the baldy Cyrus.