"Indeed, indeed!" the principal beamed, clasping his hands together on the desk.
"Gray, your final exam results just came in. Once again, perfect scores across the board! Absolutely outstanding! You continue to be the shining star of Light Children Academy!"
"Thank you, sir. I just try my best," Gray replied modestly.
"Your 'best' happens to be leagues ahead of everyone else's!" Principal Thornton chuckled.
"Which brings me to the real reason I called you in."
He leaned forward, his expression turning serious but excited. "Gray, based on your flawless academic record, your extracurriculars,"
Gray mentally winced, hoping the principal meant the Mathletes club and not his other activities
"and your exceptional performance on the standardized aptitude tests, I took the liberty of submitting an early application package on your behalf."
Gray's interest piqued. "An application, sir?"
"That's right!" Principal Thornton's eyes twinkled. "To Crestwood University! And they were, to put it mildly… extremely impressed." He paused for dramatic effect.
"Gray, they have offered you a full, four-year scholarship. Early admission. Starting next semester!"
Gray's carefully maintained composure broke for a split second.
His eyes widened. Crestwood? That was one of the top universities in the country, hundreds of miles away in the capital city.
A full scholarship? This wasn't just a way out of poverty; this was a first-class ticket.
"Sir... are you serious?" Gray asked, a genuine note of disbelief and excitement creeping into his voice. This was it. The escape route he had been meticulously building for years.
"As serious as a heart attack!" Principal Thornton boomed, clearly delighted by Gray's reaction.
"They see your potential, Gray. They believe you're destined for great things! This scholarship covers everything, tuition, board, even a generous allowance! It's the opportunity of a lifetime!"
A wide, genuine smile finally spread across Gray's face. "Principal Thornton... I... I don't know what to say. Thank you so much! I'll definitely go for it!"
"Excellent! I knew you'd be thrilled!" the principal clapped his hands together. "The university is already preparing the official documents. They just need your final confirmation."
He leaned back in his chair, his expression becoming slightly more serious, though still friendly.
"Now, Gray," he said, wagging a finger playfully. "This is a golden opportunity. All you need to do is keep your nose clean for the next few months until the semester starts. No trouble, maintain your grades, which I know won't be an issue for you, and just... behave yourself. Smooth sailing, understand?"
He chuckled again, waving off his own concern. "But I'm sure a perfect, model student like you won't have any problems with that, hahaha!"
Gray's smile twitched slightly at the edges. He forced the smile to remain steady. "Haha, of course, Principal Thornton. You don't have to worry about me."
"Wonderful! Well then, congratulations again, Gray! You've made this old principal very proud!" Principal Thornton stood up, offering his hand. Gray shook it firmly.
After leaving the principal's office, Gray walked out into the bright afternoon sun, his mind buzzing. It felt surreal, freedom was finally within his grasp, he felt lighter than he had in years.
Just as he left, a new message notification from his beat-up phone popped up. It was from Leo.
His heart gave a slight lurch. He opened the text.
"Gray. It's set. Grandmaster Dan has agreed to the final showdown. One week from tonight, at his place."
…
Gray's Hideout.
"This is everything I could find, Gray," Rat squeaked, sliding a crumpled piece of paper across the makeshift table.
Gray's crew gathered around.
"Grandmaster Dan isn't like the others," Rat continued, wringing his hands. "He's been the King Of Delinquents for five years. His headquarters is an old parking garage fortress. Nearly fifty guys on call, minimum."
Specs pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose. "Fifty is conservative. Dan commands loyalty. If he calls for aid, others will come. Ratchet up the estimated opposition to potentially over a hundred if prior conflicts are indicative."
"A hundred?!" Knuckles slammed his fist on the table. "Then we gotta be ready! Leo, do we have the pipes?"
Leo nodded grimly, tapping a heavy duffel bag at his feet. "Pipes, chains, weighted gloves… we also have knives."
Specs cleared his throat. "Furthermore," he said, pulling a bulky, oddly shaped object wrapped in oilcloth from his own bag, "contingency measures are advisable."
He unwrapped it, revealing a crudely repaired but undeniably real handgun. "I managed to restore functionality to this confiscated piece. Statistically unreliable, with a 35% chance of misfire or catastrophic failure upon discharge, but its psychological deterrent value is significant."
The mood in the room instantly became heavier.
'It was a gun!'
They had crossed lines before, but never that line.
Gray, who had been leaning back in a rusty chair, finally spoke, his voice cold and sharp. "Put it away, Specs. Put it all away."
The crew looked at him, surprised. "What? Gray, you serious?"
Knuckles asked, bewildered. "We're talking about Grandmaster Dan! He probably sleeps with a knife! And he's got an army!"
"Exactly," Gray said, standing up. "He's got an army. And he's not stupid. What do you think his real plan is?"
The crew looked at him, confused.
"He wants us to show up armed," Gray explained, his voice sharp and analytical, like he was solving an exam problem. "He wants us to start a war. He knows he can't beat me one-on-one, so his only move is to get me arrested. He's baiting me into a brawl so big the cops get called. Cops, arrests, a criminal record... and just like that, my scholarship vanishes. My entire future is gone. He wins without even throwing a punch. That's his trap."
Leo stepped forward, his expression still grim. "That's a smart analysis, Gray. But you're missing the other half. What if his trap is simpler? What if he just plans to have all two hundred of those guys jump you and kill you?"
"Because he's a king," Gray said, his voice laced with a new, cold arrogance. "And a king has an ego."
He grabbed his worn denim jacket. "I walk in there alone. No weapons, no crew. I'm showing him I'm not afraid of his army. I'm showing him I'm on a different level. It flips the script. It preys on his pride. He won't look like a king if he has two hundred men jump one unarmed kid. He'll look like a coward."
"I don't want to start a gang war. This is about the title of King of Delinquents. It needs to be clean."
"Clean?" Leo stepped forward, his expression serious. "Gray, Grandmaster Dan doesn't do clean. You know his reputation. He ambushed Razor with poisoned darts. He set Iron Fist's old hideout on fire. He won't hesitate to use weapons if he feels cornered."
"Then he won't feel cornered," Gray countered. "This isn't a raid. It's a challenge. I go in alone."
"Gray, man, this feels wrong," Knuckles pleaded. "That's too big a risk!"
Gray looked around at their worried faces. "Trust me on this. I've run the calculations. This is the only way I win everything."
His crew looked at Leo, their unofficial conscience. Leo met Gray's determined gaze. He knew that look.
It was the same one Gray had before acing an impossible exam. It was pure, unshakable, arrogant confidence.
Arguing further was useless.
"Alright, Gray," Leo said, his voice heavy with resignation. "We trust you. But..."
He hesitated, his eyes filled with a deep unease. "Be careful. Please."
…
Grandmaster Dan's Headquarters
Gray felt a flicker of unease, remembering Leo's warning.
It did feel like a trap.
But he had already come this far. He walked confidently up the main ramp, his footsteps echoing in the empty space.
He reached the first floor. It was empty, cold, and still.
He took a few more steps in, calling out, "Grandmaster Dan! I'm here! Let's settle this!"
SHIIING! SHIIING!
One by one, harsh industrial floodlights flickered on.
And Gray was no longer alone.
Figures emerged from every shadow, pouring down the ramps and stairwells.
A hundred? A hundred-fifty? Easily. Maybe more.
They were armed with pipes, bats, chains. And at their center, walking calmly down the ramp from the second floor, was Grandmaster Dan.
He was lean, maybe early twenties, with cold, scheming eyes. He clapped slowly.
"Gray," Grandmaster Dan said, his voice calm, almost amused. "I heard you were smart, it seems I overestimated you."
Gray kept his expression neutral, his mind racing.
His crew was right. This was bad. "I came to challenge you for the title, Grandmaster Dan. One-on-one."
Grandmaster Dan chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "One-on-one? Do I look like an idiot? I'm already the king, why should I have to fight for what's already mine?"
He gestured around at the gathered thugs. "This isn't a duel, Gray. This is pest control."
"If there's anything you lack, Gray," Grandmaster Dan said, savoring the look of dawning horror on Gray's face, "it's not strength or skill. It's shamelessness. You're too naive. You still believe in stupid things like 'fair fights' and 'one-on-one'."
"Get him!" Grandmaster Dan ordered.
Just as the massive crowd began to close in, a familiar voice roared from the entrance ramp, where the steel shutter was now slowly rising.
"Looks like you need us after all, boss!"
Gray's head snapped around. Standing there, silhouetted against the dim light from outside, were Leo, Knuckles, Specs, Rat, and the rest of his crew.
They had secretly followed him.
"What are you guys doing here?!" Gray shouted.
"We can't just leave you alone while you fight two hundred men right?" Leo smiled.
Grandmaster Dan looked past Gray, his gaze sweeping over Leo, Knuckles, and the others.
"This fight is with your leader," Grandmaster Dan announced clearly.
"He has made many enemies, and today, he pays his debts. But you guys don't have to. You can walk away. My men will open the gate for you. Leave now, and you will be untouched. This is your only chance."
A murmur went through the crowd. It was a tempting offer.
A chance to live.
A cold stone of guilt dropped into Gray's stomach.
This was his fault. His naivety, his refusal to listen, had led them here.
He couldn't let them suffer for his mistake.
He didn't turn to face his crew. He kept his eyes locked on Grandmaster Dan.
"He's right," Gray said, his voice low and strained.
"This is my stupid mess. Get out of here. That's an order."
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then, Leo stepped forward, moving to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Gray.
"We started this with you," he said, his voice firm. "We're finishing it with you."
Knuckles cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and defiant.
"Are you kidding? Two hundred to twelve? I wouldn't miss this for the world!"
Specs adjusted his glasses, a grim smile on his face. "My calculations indicate our odds of survival are approximately 1.3%. I've always been a gambler."
One by one, the rest of his crew voiced their resolve, their loyalty a burning light in the face of impossible odds.
Gray felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling so foreign and overwhelming it almost brought him to his knees.
It was the pride he felt for his friends, for their unshakable loyalty.
But it was immediately followed by a wave of regret.
They were willing to fall with him, because of a mistake he made.
He finally turned to them, a look in his eyes they had never seen before.
The arrogance was gone, replaced by a deep, heartfelt gratitude. He gave them a single, solemn nod.
"Alright," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He turned back to face the horde, his fists clenching at his sides. "Let's show them what we're made of!"
With a unified roar, the enemy charged.
The battle erupted.
"GET THEM!" a thug roared, leading the charge.
The air filled with war cries and the thunder of running feet on concrete.
It was a storm of fists, feet, and crude weapons. But at the center of that storm was Gray.
He was a force of nature.
A pipe swung at his head. "Die, Gray!" the attacker screamed.
Gray caught it mid-swing, his grip unerring. The man's eyes widened in shock.
"Huh?"
With a contemptuous grunt, Gray snapped the thick steel pipe over his knee as if it were a twig.
"Pathetic."
He used the two jagged pieces to disable three thugs in a single, fluid motion, their screams adding to the violent symphony.
He moved through the crowd not like a man, but like a demolition ball, shattering lines and breaking bodies.
"He's a monster!" one man shrieked before a single punch sent him flying backward into his comrades.
"Don't let up! Swarm him!" another commanded.
For every man Gray knocked down, five more took their place, but it didn't matter.
He was a tireless engine of destruction. "Next," was the only word he uttered, his voice cold and flat amidst the chaos.
His crew were legends in their own right.
"Eat this!" Knuckles bellowed, laughing as he waded into the thickest part of the fight, trading blow for blow and always coming out on top.
"Who wants a knuckle sandwich?!"
"Knuckles, on your right!" Leo shouted, his movements a blur.
He ducked under a swinging chain, delivering a swift, powerful kick to his opponent's gut.
"You're too slow," he stated calmly before felling another with a precise jab to the throat.
Even Specs was holding his own. "Your center of gravity is all wrong!" he critiqued as he stuck out a leg, tripping a charging brute. "A rudimentary error."
Against all odds, they were actually winning.
"Gray!" Leo yelled across the battlefield, a grin splitting his face.
"We're doing it! We're beating 200!"
One of the younger crew members laughed, adrenaline coursing through him as he knocked a man down.
"They're getting scared! We're gonna win this!"
The floor was littered with the groaning bodies of their enemies.
The massive horde had been whittled down to less than half its original size.
Hope began to bloom in their chests.
Up on the second floor, Grandmaster Dan, who had been watching with an unnervingly calm expression, gave a simple, almost imperceptible nod.
Specs had cornered a thug against a pillar.
"Statistically, your best option now is surrender," he advised, pushing his glasses up. "Your form is sloppy, you've left at least three openings—"
Suddenly, a glint of steel flashed.
"Shut up, four-eyes!" the man snarled. With a desperate lunge, he pulled a knife from his boot.
"Ah," Specs breathed, his eyes widening as he spotted the blade a fraction of a second too late. "A concealed variable."
The blade slid between his ribs.
He let out a soft gasp of shock, and collapsed to the ground, a hand-drawn map falling from his pocket, stained with his blood.
Leo's eyes went wide with disbelief and horror. He violently shoved the man he was holding into a pillar. "SPECS!"
The thug who had stabbed Specs sneered, kicking his body. "Not so smart now, are ya, four-eyes?"
Gray had a man hoisted over his head, ready to be thrown. He heard Leo's scream and paused. "Leo? What is it?"
His eyes followed Leo's gaze and saw Specs on the ground.
A pool of blood spread from Specs's body as the killer let out a victorious smirk.
"Specs…" Gray's voice was deathly quiet.
The tide turned in a heartbeat.
A collective shing sound echoed through the garage as, all across the battlefield, the remaining thugs pulled hidden knives.
The clanging of pipes was replaced by the flash of blades in the harsh floodlights.
"They've got knives!" someone from Gray's crew screamed in terror.
Knuckles saw Specs fall. His face contorted in pure rage.
"SPECS!" he roared, his voice raw with fury. He turned on the man who stabbed him. "YOU BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU!"
He charged, ignoring the three other thugs who turned to face him, their knives flashing. "Fistfight's over, big guy!" one of them sneered.
Knuckles didn't care. He threw a single, powerful punch that crushed the first man's jaw, but the other knives found their way into his back.
He grunted as he fell to his knees, his massive frame slumping to the concrete, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"NO!" Gray bellowed, the sound tearing from his throat. He tried to get to his friends, but he was instantly swarmed.
"Get him! Stab him now!"
"Cut him down! He's just one man!"
Ten men, their faces twisted with murderous intent, converged on him at once.
He moved faster than he ever had before, a whirlwind of desperate blocks and brutal counters.
An arm was broken with a wet snap. A wrist was shattered.
He dodged and weaved, the blades missing him by millimeters.
Eight of the attackers went down in a blur of motion.
But two got through.
He felt a searing, cold pain in his stomach.
He looked down and saw the hilt of a knife buried deep within him.
At the same moment, another blade stabbed him in the back, right below the shoulder blade.
A sharp gasp of air escaped his lips. His seemingly infinite strength began to drain away, pouring out of him with his own blood.
He fell to one knee, the world starting to tilt and blur around him.
Through his fading vision, he saw the last of his loyal friends fall.
He saw a younger crew member cornered, screaming in fear.
"Leo, look out!" the boy shrieked.
Leo didn't hesitate. He shoved the boy behind him.
"Get back!" he commanded. Three thugs lunged at him. He managed to take one down, but the other two plunged their blades into his chest.
He fell with a soft sigh, his eyes finding Gray's for one last, fleeting moment.
He mouthed a single word.
'Live.'
The fighting stopped. The only sounds were the pained groans of the wounded and the heavy breathing of the victors.
Gray was on his knees, surrounded by the bodies of his friends.
His friends.
His family.
Rage, pure and undiluted, surged through him, but it was quickly extinguished by the crushing weight of his regret.
'I was a fool. An arrogant, selfish fool.'
The thought screamed in his mind.
'Despite my foolishness, they followed me.'
'If only I had listened. If only we had a plan.'
'This is all my fault.'
The remaining thugs parted, and Grandmaster Dan walked calmly through them.
He stopped in front of the kneeling Gray, idly flipping a small butterfly knife in his hand.
He looked down, his expression not of triumph, but of cold, detached pity.
"Raw strength isn't everything, kid," Grandmaster Dan said softly. "If you have a next life, don't be so goddamn naive."
Gray let out a low growl.
With a monumental effort, he pushed against the ground, trying to rise, to launch one last, desperate attack, however, his body was too exhausted.
Grandmaster Dan knelt, bringing himself face-to-face with the fallen Gray.
"This is the end of the line for you, Gray."
With a flick of his wrist, he plunged the knife into Gray's neck.
The faces of Leo, Knuckles, and Specs appeared in his vision, clear and painfully real. Their loyal, trusting smiles twisting into expressions of agony.
All of it... because of him. Because he believed in "fair fights." Because his dream of having a normal future was more important than their lives.
His final thought wasn't anger at Grandmaster Dan. It was a pure, agonizing hatred... for himself.
A single, silent, blood-choked realization.
'He's right. I am a fool.'
The world faded, but a single, burning ember of Will remained, an obsession seared into his very soul.
'Honor is a lie. Pride is for idiots. The only thing that matters is my family. Next time... if there is a next time... I will be the one who brings the knives. I will be the one who ambushes. I will be... shameless!'
'Where in the world am I?'
Everywhere Gray looked, it was simply a vast, empty nothingness. A cold, silent void.
The faces of his friends flashed in his mind, vivid and agonizing. Leo's final, determined gaze. Knuckles's roar of pure, selfless rage. Specs's lifeless expression.
'Leo… Specs… Knuckles… I'm so sorry.' The thought was a silent, desperate scream into the void. 'I'm so, so sorry.'
He wasn't curious about reincarnation, or heaven and hell. Such things were luxuries for souls with a clear conscience. All he could feel was the crushing weight of his failure.
'It was all for nothing. My stupid pride… my stupid dream. What a joke. I killed them. If only I had agreed to them bringing weapons in the first place, if only we planned an ambush instead of going in directly.'
If he could just go back. If he could have one more chance, just one single moment.
"I'd listen," he whispered into the emptiness, voice trembling. "No… even that doesn't matter. I'd be content just to share another cup of noodles, to laugh and waste time with my friends. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
Then, suddenly, the nothingness gave way to a dimly lit expanse, an endless procession of figures shuffling forward in an eerily silent line.
Gray found himself standing among them, another formless shape in a sea of souls.
At the front of the line was a large pot of soup and an old woman who looked similar to witches in fairy tales. The souls in the line would step forward and take a bowl to consume it before entering a large, black and white vortex which exuded an ancient aura.
As the new soul in the line stepped in front of the pot to consume the soup, everyone, including him would move up in position.
'Just what in the world is this place?' Gray thought to himself. He could see that the souls in line had faces full of struggle, confusion, and fear. But as if they couldn't control their bodies, they would continue walking to the front of the line before taking a sip from the pot of soup. As soon as they did this, all the fear and confusion drained from their faces as their eyes became empty and dull.
He looked carefully at the pot of boiling soup, written on its body was 'Soup of Forgetfulness'. Gray's eyes constricted as he saw this. An old woman ladling soup from a massive pot, giving a bowl to each passing soul. At this moment, he realized where he was.
He had heard the legend when he was still alive.
'Meng Po's Soup of Forgetfulness…' The thought struck him not with resignation, but with a surge of cold panic.
He looked at the dull, empty faces of the souls who had already drunk the soup, their past lives wiped clean. He saw it not as a mercy, but as the ultimate erasure.
'No.' The thought was a defiant cry in his soul. 'I can't. Forgetting them would be the final betrayal. It would be like killing them all over again. My memory of them… of what I did… it's my penance. I have to carry it. I mustn't forget!'
But the line moved forward, an inexorable current pulling him toward the old woman. His soul body moved against his will, like a puppet on an unseen string. He finally reached the front, and his hand, as if it belonged to someone else, reached for the bowl of soup offered by Meng Po.
Gray peered into the swirling liquid. For a moment, he thought he saw Leo's determined smile, Specs's thoughtful frown, and Knuckles's boisterous laugh shimmering on its surface before fading away.
'I'm sorry, everyone,' he thought, his soul aching.
He closed his eyes, accepting the unavoidable. He had to drink it.
Slurp.
Gray drank the soup in one gulp, bracing himself for the oblivion that would take away his precious memories forever.
A strange warmth spread through his soul, a profound, unnatural peace washing over him.
The sharp edges of his grief, the burning self-hatred, began to dull. Faces, names, they started to blur like watercolor paintings left out in the rain.
Leo's calm advices, Knuckles's loud curses Specs's quiet concentration, everything was fading, becoming indistinct echoes.
Just as the last vestiges of his crew threatened to dissolve completely into the peaceful haze, a faint but familiar high-pitched voice echoed from somewhere far behind him, piercing the tranquility.
"Boss! Wait! Let's look for each other once we reincarnate! Find us, okay?!"
Gray's dulling consciousness registered the sound, a confusing ripple in the calm sea of forgetfulness.
His body jolted slightly, but the soup's gentle erasure was relentless.
His steps didn't falter. Like the countless souls before him, he walked forward, his eyes already taking on the vacant stare of the cleansed, towards the swirling vortex ahead.
At that moment, he stepped into the Gate of Reincarnation.
The initial sensation was one of dissolution, of merging with the infinite cycle.
He felt his 'self,' already frayed and indistinct from the soup, unraveling further, preparing to be woven into the fabric of a new life. Peace settled over him.
Forgetting felt... easy. Right.
But then, Rat's words echoed again, louder this time, amplified by the vortex's churning energies, cutting through the fog. 'Find us!'
And with those words, the fading images surged back with desperate, agonizing clarity: Leo mouthing "Live." Knuckles roaring in selfless defiance as blades sank into his back. Specs falling, the blood-stained map fluttering from his pocket. The weight of his own failure, the crushing sorry that had been his last thought.
A guttural scream tore through Gray's soul, a raw, primal denial fueled by a love and guilt too profound for even Meng Po's soup to completely erase.
'NO! I WILL NOT FORGET THEM! I CAN'T!' His soul, moments from complete dissolution and rebirth, blazed with an unexpected, defiant silver light, fighting against the oblivion he had almost accepted.
The vortex shuddered violently.
The gentle, impartial process of reincarnation stopped. The ancient, indifferent aura twisted into something hostile, enraged.
It was as if the fundamental laws of Samsara had been violated by this soul's sheer, stubborn will to remember, and the vortex itself lashed out at the anomaly within.
Pain, more unbearable than any physical wound, more agonizing than the knives that had ended his life, slammed into Gray's soul.
"Aaaghh!!"
The vortex churned, no longer a gateway but a grinder, its energies converging not to reincarnate, but to destroy the soul that defied its purpose.
Cracks began to appear on Gray's flickering, silver-lit soul form. It felt like the universe itself was trying to crush him; he could feel the vortex's animosity, its intent to erase him utterly.
However, he could also tell that it was struggling. His resistance, his refusal to forget, was somehow fighting back against the ancient mechanism. Large cracks were also starting to appear in the swirling black and white walls of the vortex around him.
"I won't go down this easily..." Gray snarled through the agony, pouring every ounce of his desperate will into survival.
As if responding, his soul, though fractured and on the verge of collapse, shone even brighter with silver light. The cracks began to mend, knitting back together with defiant energy.
Simultaneously, the cracks in the fabric of the vortex itself widened, growing larger and more unstable.
"How'd you like that, asshole?! Hahaha!" Gray guffawed weakly, spitting spectral defiance at the cosmic machine that was trying to erase him.
The vortex, rumbling and unstable, seemed to sense it couldn't destroy Gray's soul through sheer force without tearing itself apart. With a final, violent shudder, it ripped open a jagged rift in its own structure – a tear not into another life, but into somewhere else entirely. The rift exerted an irresistible pull.
"W-wait a secon-" Before Gray could say anything else, his soul was swallowed by the rift, yanked out of the cycle of reincarnation and flung into the unknown.
"This place is..." Gray looked with wide eyes at his new surroundings as the rift snapped shut behind him.