“…?”
When Kun turned, he saw a boy in the same gray training uniform holding a broom and a bucket, looking down at him. A fierce face, red curls, and a scatter of freckles made a strong impression.
He was huge, too. Not an exaggeration — he was at least two heads taller than the current Kun. Even compared to the other trainees he stood a good hand higher. Kun narrowed his eyes and scanned the boy’s frame.
This guy?..
He was in his memories. The same type who called himself the “Iron Fist,” the leader of the beggar gang under the Belzgan bridge, always picking on those weaker than him. His name was…
Barison, was it?
Barison met his gaze and swaggered forward confidently. The corner of his mouth curled up — he seemed to think Kun was frozen with fear.
— Here’s the thing… — he began, closing in on Kun and shrugging casually. — It’s my turn to scrub the latrines on the training ground today… I thought you might just do it for me.
Though he put it politely, the meaning was clear: do my work while I ask nicely. Kun couldn’t help but smile and shake his head.
…Ha.
Given how weak this body was, he had expected a moment like this sooner or later. Still… he hadn’t thought it would come so quickly. It had only been a month since training started at Lion’s Moat, and already he was being treated like nothing. Kun glanced at himself and smiled bitterly.
Of course — with a build like this, it was hardly surprising...
It was little consolation, though. Kun let his eyes drift around. Everyone was watching them. Apparently the other trainees, bored for spectacle, were waiting with interest for how this would end. Barison kept on:
— So? You swap? We’re one of the same — is it so hard to do a favor for a friend?
He threw an arm over Kun’s shoulder like a typical street thug. Kun moved his fingers slightly, weighing his options.
What to do?
The opponent was a massive trainee, two heads taller. Any other boy in Kun’s place would have meekly taken the broom and bucket, cowed by the size difference. But…
I can’t allow that.
After all, he would be living in Lion’s Moat for the foreseeable future. If he backed down now, assaults like this would repeat endlessly. Better to use this chance to teach them a lesson.
I…
Will show them I’m not easy prey.
Of course, if others wanted to test him afterward, there was nothing to be done… Kun found his thoughts oddly familiar and smiled coldly.
For some reason this feeling seems familiar.
A rumor surfaced in his mind — one he’d heard long ago. They said the methods Roberian used to raise his “Black Foxes” were partly modeled on the Lion’s Moat.
Back then I let it slide… but…
In a similar situation, he wondered whether the rumors might be true. Of course, they couldn’t be identical. Unlike Lion’s Moat, built to raise talents to support a house, Roberian’s “Fox Den” had from the start been meant to breed hunting hounds.
Hunting hounds that could be discarded at any moment, and heirs who must lead the house — those two could never be equal. Besides, unlike Roberian, who then was merely a claimant, this place was under the protection of the entire Zoldic house.
They can’t be the same.
Still, the atmosphere was undeniably similar. Kun slowly lifted his head.
— Then I’m counting on you, buddy. Got it?
Barison was about to thrust the bucket and broom into his hands and walk away when Kun spoke.
— As far as I remember, it’s not my turn to clean the training grounds today.
— ……?
— If you’re looking for a slave to do the dirty work, you’d better find someone else. Right now. Because… I have absolutely no intention of doing it.
The voice was provocatively calm enough to freeze the thug in place.
— What did you just yap?
Barison spun around before Kun finished. The smug grin was gone. His face contorted into an ugly snarl, like an enraged ork. Shock, bewilderment, rage — surely a cocktail of emotions boiled inside him. He glared at Kun, eyes burning.
— What did you say? — he growled, eyes bulging. — Huh? What did you just yap?!
His heavy palm pushed roughly into Kun’s chest. The powerful shove staggered the boy’s body. Any street kid from under the Belzgan bridge would have broken into a cold sweat, looked away, or begged for mercy. But, unlucky for him, Kun was not from those parts. He didn’t even know where that damn bridge was, and he certainly wasn’t the sort to be cowed by such threats.
— WHAT DID YOU SAY, I ASKED?!
Grimacing at the noise tearing at his ears, Kun idly picked at his ear and replied:
— You bragged about being the former leader of a beggar gang… Are you deaf from not being fed enough? Looks like your hearing’s shot.
— …What?
Barison was so stunned by the insolence that his rage froze into slack-jawed stupor for a beat. But Kun wasn’t finished.
— If you want to ask a favor like that, do it properly for a beggar leader: take a begging bowl and kneel and beg.
Those caustic words didn’t suit the image of a child. For a moment an icy chill gripped the area, then muffled snickering began.
— You little… bastard!
The realization that he’d been humiliated in front of everyone hit Barison like a blow. His face flushed crimson with fury.
— Did you smash your head in training, you bastard?! — His shout cut through the air like a slicing whistle. — DIE!!
His fist shot toward Kun in an instant. The huge, callused hand — it lived up to his nickname. If Kun had taken such a blow on his skull in his current condition, only a bloody pulp would have remained.
What happened next widened everyone’s eyes in astonishment.
A whistle — BAM!
— …Kh?
With a muffled grunt, Barison’s massive body staggered and flew backwards. A dull sound of impact was heard, but to everyone’s surprise it was not Kun who’d been pushed back — it was Barison who retreated.
— Gha-aah?
Blood gushed from his broken nose. Clutching his face, he whimpered in pain. A bucket lay at his feet for reasons nobody could explain. It turned out that the moment Barison lunged, Kun had hurled the bucket square into his face.
— You son of a… A bucket?!
Realizing the situation at last, Barison raised his head. With his swollen red nose, he was about to spew a fresh torrent of curses. But Kun was no longer where he had been.
— Wh-what?!
Kun dashed forward. Barison panicked and screamed, trying to react to Kun’s speed.
— Take this!
He swung a desperate fist, but it was too late — the motion was overly wide and clumsy. As expected, the punch sliced through air. Feeling the gust at his ear, Kun swung the broom with force. The strike was delivered as if he’d drawn a sword and slashed diagonally, aiming between ribs and flank.
Crack!
— Kha-a! — Barison doubled over in searing pain.
But Kun didn’t stop. He spun in place, entering the opened defense. A merciless flurry of blows rained down on the thug’s body.
Bam, bam, BAM!
With each turn the heavy strikes sank into Barison’s flesh without pause.
— Kh... Gha-aah!
He didn’t even attempt to counter; he only uttered intermittent groans as he absorbed the damage. The onslaught wasn’t merely overpowering — it was explosive. Some of the children instinctively shut their eyes at the brutality. Yet Kun’s attack was not over.
He dropped low, going beneath the guard. This time his target was the ankles. With a sharp motion, like a sweep, he struck the opponent’s ankle.
Whoosh — CRACK!
— Kha!
The sudden hit sent Barison, already bent double, off balance.
— Wh-what?!
Only then, grasping the gravity of the situation, did the big kid flail his arms desperately to keep his footing, but it was too late. As the massive body toppled to the ground, Kun closed the distance in a flash. Planting one boot on the attacker’s chest, he pressed the broom’s tip to his chin and said:
— I told you to find someone else.
Kun’s voice was cold, matching his stare. It all happened in an instant.
He casually brushed dust from his training uniform, then felt the eyes on him shift. The atmosphere became as if someone had dumped a bucket of icy water over everyone.
Those who had snickered a minute ago and those who’d eagerly awaited the outcome — all froze. No one dared utter a word. The sight had shocked them to silence. Kun only smiled bitterly to himself as he looked at them.
No wonder. Considering the size difference…
Hardly anyone present had expected him to win. If Kun hadn’t known the truth of his situation, he too would have picked another favorite.
Still, that doesn’t mean I should willingly become a laughingstock.
Shrugging, Kun began to walk away. A funeral hush lingered for a moment. Only after several minutes did the first whispers begin.
— Is this… is this even possible?