underground figths.

-How has it been going at your school? - asked Akisame, one of the more empathetic masters, when it came to things that didn't go against his three special things - his past, his mustache, and green peppers.

-It's been magnificent, great in many ways. This school is more open-minded about people... it's just that there are many delinquents. But I met someone today who has strength, incredibly powerful compared to others... this man has abilities that cannot be normal for a common athlete or martial artist. He's like a contained beast. When I saw him, I thought of the first time I saw Apachai, - Miu commented.

-Apa? - the giant responded with a start.  -Apachai is a good boy, - he said, clapping in his strange way.

-Then he must be a great man, a powerful one with tangible abilities in the world we live in. Whose disciple could he be? - the old man said cryptically, delicately but firmly.

-That's not important. It's said that at the school there's someone even more powerful, and according to a friend of Kenichi's who's also my friend, this man is unbeatable among all the young people, very strong above everyone else. He's called the Tyrant of the High School, - Miu said.

-Ohhhh, he must be very strong to earn such a name, - Shio Sakaki commented.

-It sounds dangerous, - Shigeru said.

Hayato found the name curious. Could this be part of Miu's destiny? A boy with the ability to equal great disciples must have training provided by a great master to break the barrier at such a young age. But if there's a boy even more powerful, it must be because he's a considerable talent.

Miu lost focus in the conversation, thinking about the cat that came to greet her in the mornings. As she continued watching, the masters were having a silent conversation among themselves, while Hayato sent a remote conversation to Akisame alone, to check on the school's status. Hayato's presence was very dangerous, and Akisame's more delicate one was perfect for the task.

They all feared one thing - that the fighting would cause their peaceful lives to be interrupted on occasion.

***

Muteba buried a knife right in Kei's chest, an inch from piercing his heart. It was a quick way to see how the blow nearly annihilated him, and in a brief mistake, Kei was disabled, not without first striking Muteba's nose like a lance. Muteba lowered his head, or the blow would have been more dangerous, almost intimidating.

-You're dangerous. But unfortunately, you won't grow to see another day, - Muteba commented. He was going to pull the knife out of Kei's wound, but the boy reacted first and buried his fingers in Muteba's ears as a last-ditch action, implanting them in his brain. Unexpectedly, Kei's form of attack hit the mark, and without hesitation, Muteba fell backward, just as Kei, having no energy left, knelt feeling his life slipping away before his eyes.

Because of this, and in an obtuse fear, he could see how all the mercenaries finished their tasks with Kei gravely injured.

-Damn Muteba, - Cai growled, attacking Muteba impulsively. The mercenary now saw the fight as innocuous - he had to escape. Cai was fierce, sending needles to his most vulnerable points, one hitting his left arm. Muteba fled under the cover of night - it was the second time he had run away in such a humiliating manner, unable to hunt down the nails or celestial fangs.

-They've betrayed us, - Wilches roared like a demon emerging from hell, without grouping more than a visual fear of the people around him. The tactical master was enraged at the way his men were dying and how everything had turned out - he saw the errors in judgment...

-Boko. Attend to the wounded, for God's sake, where's Boko? - Wilches asked.

-He's dead, sir, - said a young man, filled with fear and irreverence.

-Those bastards are causing a lot of things that bother me. We need to know what's going on, -Wilches commented, taking off his shirt while grabbing the medical equipment and beginning to prepare to help Kei. Even now, he regretted not knowing the boy's blood type - the only possibility was the strength to cling to his life and how he must live.

Cai was in the forest, hunting Muteba, who was trying not to interfere in important matters. It was a shame that the blood left an obvious trail of his whereabouts. Cai appreciated the night, but he wouldn't live much longer if he kept acting that way - he would die in the forest. He had everything prepared, with a boat waiting for him not far away, about 3 kilometers.

-Unfortunately, I live another day, - Muteba murmured, using the boat to escape. He was starting to feel dizzy, realizing things weren't going as expected, that the attacks had been so dangerous. But for the first time, the blow had been so formidable that he never expected to feel so much pain - his ears were in an unknown, likely destroyed state.

Cai saw the boat leaving and cursed under his breath. Without wasting more time, he returned to the camp. They knew what to do - they would go to the camp to collect their pay, and once paid, they would kill everyone without fear, paying off the debt. He hated how everything had turned out, and even more, he hated the result of the betrayal - they had become overconfident.

-How many casualties? - Cai asked.

-Five, and Kei is in a state that cannot be considered good - he's almost dead. I'm sorry, Cai, - murmured Hansen, the pyrotechnician.

-He won't die. The boy will live. In our lives, we don't escape until the last breath leaves our bodies. There's a tradition, acupuncture points, - Cai commented, taking a handful of points along with Wilches, applying pressure to Kei's chi points, stopping the bleeding that was flowing from him. From there, they continued to operate on Kei with medical care, while Wilches applied quick sutures. Once he knew there were no further damages beyond a clean cut, they wrapped Kei in bandages and covered him with various blankets, insulating his body well to take him to the nearest outpost as soon as possible.

Two days on foot.

Amidst sighs and pleas, Kei clung to life by a thread.

Muteba reached a beach, wounded. The blows the brat had landed on his ears were not something normal.

-I failed. The kid is still alive, - the African mercenary commented. The bloodlust of the subject was not very pleasant...

...