I could stay and fight, but survival screamed at me: Run.
I bolted, clutching my bruised arm. He chased, close behind, whipping a sharp object toward me. I twisted aside, but a cold burn traced my leg, a cut, nothing I couldn't bear.
Almost to the main room. Through all the chaos, no one else intervened, only Muscular, relentless as a nightmare.
The main room loomed ahead!
—
Before I could even attempt another step, Muscular's enormous, calloused hand lashed out and seized my arm in a bruising vice. His grip was suffocating, his fingers digging painfully into my skin as though he could crush bone with a simple squeeze. Time seemed to stretch in that instant, the floor beneath my feet vibrated with each guttural chuckle that rumbled from Muscular's chest, and fear coiled in my gut like a living thing.
My pulse thundered in my ears. Desperation took over; I twisted, swung my free hand, and drove my fist into his cheek with every ounce of strength I still possessed. The blow jarred my arm all the way to my shoulder, but Muscular's head barely turned. He grinned, wide and menacing, exposing teeth stained from battle. My fist might have struck a stone slab for all the effect it had.
He leaned close, his voice thick with mockery.
"What happened to your strength Deku?" he jeered, his voice dripping with disdain.
Fueled by rage and terror, I struck him again, pouring my exhaustion and dread into one final punch. My knuckles dug into his jaw, but Muscular only barked a manic, delighted laugh harsh and echoing in the cramped hallway.
"I could barely feel that," he only laughed, the sound sharp and unhinged.
With a brutal motion, he hurled me backward. My feet left the ground; I crashed to the cold, hard floor with a sickening thud. My body recoiled, pain snapping along my spine and shoulders. I blinked away the dizziness, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed still, then agony stabbed suddenly through my stomach, sharp and electric. I heard myself groan, every muscle convulsing, before the pain abruptly faded as if snuffed out by adrenaline and fear.
From the corner of my eye, Muscular's shadow loomed larger, his massive hands snaking through the air, hungry to capture me again. Instinct screamed at me to move. I forced my battered body backward, barely slipping away from his grasp.
'What was that?' I thought.
The buzzing panic in my head drowned out all sound but his voice, mocking and relentless.
"You're so weak! It's not even funny anymore," he taunted, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement.
Shakily, I scrambled up on one knee and howled back, "Shut up!" My words exploded in the corridor, more defiant than I truly felt.
Muscular only scoffed. He stepped forward, eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure, and spat out.
He sneered, "I don't know why I bother, you're just a stupid omega."
The insult cut deeper than his grip ever could, burning in my chest and twisting my insides with shame and fury. Still, I glared up at him, bottling my pain, refusing to surrender.
He exhaled heavily, as if annoyed by my resistance. In one effortless motion, he grabbed my bruised, aching hand and yanked me upright. The strain sent white-hot searing pain shooting through my fingers into my arm, dragging a ragged scream from my lips. He stared, unmoved, and for a terrifying second, I saw how little my pain mattered to him.
Some primal instinct snapped. I lashed out, kicked at his shin, heard the dull thud of my foot meeting muscle, and then twisted my body, sinking my teeth into his hand. His skin tasted of salt and blood, and I bit down harder. Muscular roared and threw me away like a discarded doll. My body skidded across the floor, scraping my elbows and knees, stars dancing across my vision.
I forced myself to focus, my heart beating wildly. I needed a weapon, anything. My eyes darted around until I spotted a battered wooden chair inconspicuously half-hidden in the hallway shadows. Hope flickered.
Biting back pain, I propelled myself toward it just as Muscular launched himself after me, footsteps booming like thunder.
He lunged. I gripped the chair with shaking hands and, as his hulking frame bore down, I swung the chair in a desperate angle. The wood collided with him with a sickening crunch, and the chair exploded into splinters. The force of the impact flung me off balance, and I crashed into my right knee, crying out as pain flared anew.
But there was no time to linger. Muscular bellowed in rage, and, running on pure instinct, I hurled myself over him, vaulting past those grasping arms and monstrous chest toward the main room entrance. I could taste blood in my mouth, my lungs burned, every step was agony, but I barely noticed. Survival was all I had left, and I ran, praying for even a moment's head start.