Miranda didn't even get a second to react. One moment, she had stepped out of the convenience store, clutching a small paper bag with her purchase. The next, a rough hand seized her wrist and hurled her with force into the dark alley beside the building.
She crashed into the wall with a grunt, pain radiating through her back. The bag slipped from her fingers as she instinctively spun to face her assailants.
A group of students stepped into view—five, six, seven of them—masks covering their faces, low-tier mana weapons gripped tightly in their hands. The faint glow of their blades illuminated their uniforms, each marked with the distinct pattern of first-year students.
Miranda narrowed her eyes, heart thumping.
"You picked the wrong person to ambush," she growled.
The leader laughed. "Oh, we picked just the right one. You pissed off the wrong person, princess."
Her hands glowed faint blue as ice began forming around her fists. Her breathing steadied.
"Then let him come himself next time."
She struck first—her ice surged forward, freezing the alley floor beneath their feet. One attacker lunged; she spun, dodging and slamming her fist into his stomach. Ice exploded from her knuckles, sending the boy flying into the wall.
Another came at her with a short blade, but Miranda ducked, swept his legs, and sent a spike of ice through the weapon, cracking it. She moved like a dancer—fluid, sharp, precise.
But there were too many.
A blast of wind knocked her sideways, crashing her into a dumpster. She winced, blood trickling from her lip. Her vision blurred for a second, but she rose again, defiant.
A spear grazed her arm. Another attacker slammed a shield into her ribs. She coughed, tasted blood.
Still, she fought. Ice walls erupted to block weapons, frostbitten fingers gripped throats, and frozen daggers slashed at legs.
Her aura was fierce, her resistance unyielding. But the numbers…
One by one, her attackers wore her down. Her limbs slowed. A blunt sword slammed into her thigh. A punch caught her cheek. Her ice cracked under constant pressure.
She fell to one knee.
A boot collided with her ribs.
Another cracked her jaw.
Miranda collapsed, blood pooling at her side, her breaths shallow. Her lips were swollen, cuts covered her face, and her uniform was torn and bloodied. Still, her eyes held defiance, even as they fluttered closed.
---
Meanwhile, Alex was walking toward the same convenience store, his hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion.
He craved one thing: raw steak. The craving had been bothering him all day—gnawing, pulling at his instincts.
But then he paused.
A voice.
Barely audible.
But sharp. Pained. Familiar.
His eyes widened. He turned toward the alley.
"That… sounded like Miranda."
He sprinted.
The closer he got, the more his body reacted—his senses sharpened, his blood boiled.
And then he saw it.
Miranda, crumpled on the cold pavement, surrounded by masked students. Blood. Cuts. Her body unmoving.
Time stopped.
The hunger inside Alex ignited—not for food, but vengeance.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!"
The ground trembled beneath his scream.
DING!
System Alert – High level of bloodlust detected.
Half-Starvation Mode: ACTIVATED.
All stats increased by 10%.
Physical Enhancement: ACTIVATED.
System Quest: Defeat the enemies who harmed someone you care about. +50 EXP per opponent.
Optional Quest: Feed on enemies for additional reward.
But Alex didn't care.
All he saw was red.
His eyes glowed like embers, veins blackening around his face. His skin turned pale grey. One arm shimmered—and a crimson energy claw burst forth, humming with violent power.
The masked students turned.
"What the hell is that?!"
"I thought it was just one girl—"
Too late.
Alex lunged.
The first attacker's weapon shattered as Alex's claw slashed clean through it—and his chest. Blood sprayed across the alley.
Another tried to run—Alex was on him in a second. A kick to the knee, a punch to the gut, a claw through the neck.
Screams erupted.
One managed to slice Alex's side, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he turned and grabbed the attacker's arm—ripping it from the socket.
"You. Hurt. Her."
One tried to be brave. A Tier B student with a hammer. He struck Alex in the chest—
—and Alex's arm was severed.
He paused.
The student smirked.
But Alex's body didn't fall. Instead, grey tendrils emerged from the stump, pulsing, twisting—his arm regrew in seconds.
The attacker's grin disappeared.
Alex's voice was low, monstrous. "My turn."
Slash. Crack. Stab. Tear.
Each blow was vicious. Each scream echoed.
The alley became a battlefield of blood. Limbs broken. Bones shattered. Masked students fell one after another, no match for the fury Alex unleashed.
He was no longer human in their eyes.
He was death.
Only one remained. He crawled, begging, shaking.
Alex walked forward, claw raised.
But something stopped him.
He turned. Miranda was still lying there—still breathing, barely.
His rage simmered. Not gone. Just buried.
He dropped the last attacker with a final punch, knocking him out cold.
Blood dripping, chest heaving, Alex knelt beside Miranda.
"Miranda… I'm here now."
.........
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