Donald recovered from my beating rather quickly.
It seemed he was used to getting hit by people, even stronger than me. That wasn't saying much though, since I was still a skinny 12 year old kid.
That would have to change, if I want to become truly strong.
I've been using the allowance Charles gave me to get as much food and protein as I need. I used the newest phone brand that he gifted me with the penthouse to look up tutorials and do my research on various diets in order to gain muscle, strength, and weight.
The only problems I had at first was learning how to cook properly, but I've been getting the hang of it now.
Sweat dripped from my face onto the penthouse floor, my arms shaking like noodles as I forced myself to do one last push up. Then another. Then another. Then ano-
I fell like an anchor, my body unable to lift a finger anymore. I rolled like a bug onto my back, steadying my breathing as much as I could.
The warm-up is done.
.
.
.
By the time I finished my evening workout, it was pitch black outside. I cleaned up the lingering sweat off the floor and pull-up bar, and took a quick but cold shower.
I had to get my body used to suffering. To relish in it, to make discomfort my new normal.
Then, I can better deliver suffering onto my enemies.
The punching-bag would arrive tomorrow, according to the delivery app on my phone. I'll hook it up to the ceiling and start conditioning my hands and the rest of my bones.
After Donald had recovered, I told him what I wanted him to do.
He would be my tutor of course, I needed to absorb as much information as I could, as fast as I could.
Then we would start scouting and recruiting. Weeding our way through the worthless trash, and grabbing what unpolished gems there are in the district, if there are any.
Evidently the Class President was the top dog of the entire school.
When I heard that, I immediately tossed the idea of looking for potential recruits here in the trash. We'd look outward, go to where the most hardened and dangerous people would be, regardless of their age.
The streets.
.
.
.
Seungjae still didn't come to school. Evidently he transferred, being too scared and too ashamed to come back to where he used to be a king, just to get reduced to a little slave by someone who came in a couple days ago.
The day was rudimentary at school, but when it ended, I called Donald over and we went to the nearest mall.
Thing1 and Thing2 tried to follow, but I told them to fuck off.
I didn't need any useless trash around me for this.
"Why are we here?"
Donald's face was almost brand new. This guy has to have a healing factor or something, I should've hit his face harder.
"To get you clothes, dumbass. I don't need bums around me."
His face morphed into one of shock. I didn't wait for him, walking into the nearest clothing store. He ran after me, catching up but still not able to settle down from the answer I gave him. I'll have to make him join me in my morning runs as well.
"I don't have any money to buy clothes, or to pay you back. Why are you doing this for me?"
I continued to walk and look through different name-brand items.
"You're misunderstanding something. I'm doing this for me, not you."
I paused for a moment, taking a glance at him before continuing my scan of what designer clothing I should pick.
"You belong to me now, and I won't have any broke, homeless bums around me. That reflects on me. You understand?"
I grabbed the third shirt and second jacket that I added to the pile of clothes I was holding, and pushed it all towards Donald's chest.
"So take these and make sure they all fit. We're getting shoes next."
.
.
.
Evidently Donald was an actual homeless bum.
He told me his step-dad would beat him and kick him out every night to fuck whatever whore he had company with, while his mom was still in the hospital fighting for her life.
That explains why he can take a beating, but him being homeless wouldn't do now that he's going to be one of my generals.
His eyes widened so much that I thought they were going to pop out from his skull when we arrived at my penthouse. I told him to take a shower and get changed after, I didn't want his dirty, shit-smelling body to ruin the new designer-brand clothes I just bought for him.
I changed as well, wearing the same Gucci jacket and designer shoes that I got Donald.
We would have to send a message, not just from our fists, but by every single aspect of us. Our clothes, our way of talking, everything. We have to convey in every way, that we're better than them.
That way, they'll be more willing when I make them submit to me.
The day was still young when we finally started our way towards the more run-down parts of Yeongdeungpo. It wasn't long before kids wearing dirt-smeared clothes cornered us in an alleyway, the scruffy-haired one that seemed to be the leader sneering at us.
"Well well, look what we have here. Two snobby rich fucks that ran a little too far from Daddy's mansion."
He pulled out a knife from underneath his shirt.
"Strip to your underwear, and I won't poke a hole in you."
The rest of them mockingly chuckled and smirked while taking relaxed stances.
It seemed they did this a lot, with most of the time their numbers and weapons being more than enough for their victims to obediently hand over whatever they asked them to. They weren't expecting conflict, especially from delicate-looking, rich kids like we seemed to be.
Donald looked at me with doubt, second-guessing for a second if this was a good idea. He was fine with a fight, but he never faced someone with a knife before.
"I'm going to break your fingers."
There were 6 of them in total. They were all skinny, some of them towering over us - a couple of years older. The guy who threatened us with a knife was stumped for a second. This wasn't how we were supposed to react.
He walked closer to me, sticking his ear out in my direction to make sure he heard me properly. He was about to say something, probably asking me to say that again, but the world would never know.
*BAM*
His body hit the floor after one hit to the chin.
"THAT SMALL FUCKER SUCKER-PUNCHED DONG-YUL!! GET HIM!!"
The others woke up from their stupor, and charged at us. It seemed like only the one in front had a weapon, and I kicked the knife across the alley so that none of them could pick it up.
I slammed my fist into the liver of the tall, lanky kid that ran up to me — he seemed to be around the age of a middle schooler. He folded from the impact, but another short-haired kid rushed me right after, forcing me to dodge a wild haymaker.
Before I could retaliate, another one of them grabbed me by my arms from behind me before speaking haughtily in my ear.
"You're fucked now, you little shit."
I jumped off the ground with both feet and crushed the nose of short-hair with both heels of my designer shoes, the red bottoms now glistening from the red of his blood.
He fell backwards and I leaned forward as much as I could when my feet landed back on the ground before shooting my head backwards, slamming the back of my head into the nose of the one holding me.
He let go instinctively with a cry of pain, and I grasped the opportunity to stab my elbow into his ribs as hard as I could before smashing my closed fist on top of his already broken nose.
I looked over to check on Donald, and he was fighting a kid two heads taller than him.
There was already one crumpled at the ground by his feet, and the one he was fighting couldn't land a hit on him. Donald sent a jab before crashing a left hook into the kid's face, rattling his jaw and knocking him unconscious. His body fell sideways towards the cold pavement before landing with a dull thud.
It was time for me to finish, too.
The only one left was the short-haired kid from before, holding his bleeding nose in one hand and cautiously eyeing me with anger and fear.
Anger gave way, and he rushed towards me with a battle cry before I spartan kicked him in his solar plexus, forcing him to keel over and gasp for air before smashing his face in.
"Stop playing dead."
I walked over to the scruffy-haired kid that held a knife to me at the start before gripping him by the top of his unkempt hair.
He stopped pretending to still be unconscious then, his eyes shooting wide open with fear.
"I'M SORRY, I SURRENDER! I SURRENDER!"
I regarded him for a moment.
A kid years older than me, terrifyingly pleading with me to spare him on both knees. It was my first act in this world that I allowed myself to truly relish in for a moment. Having the life of another at my mercy. It felt.. amazing.
I couldn't stop the giddy smile from forming on my face.
"You belong to me now."
Was this what that fat fuck felt when he looked at me, after caving my mother's skull in?
"When I tell you to bark, you bark. When I tell you to fetch, you fetch. Like a good dog."
I patted his cheek.
"You understand."
He stilled at my words, his inner pride igniting a rebellious spirit inside of him. He stifled it down before he thought I could see it, before placing an even more exaggerated fear on his face, nodding frantically.
"I UNDERSTAND, WE'LL DO WHATEVER YOU SAY BOSS!!"
Donald watched on, observing, studying the both of us. Good. He was learning.
"Good. I'd hate to have to break all your fingers again."
The exaggerated fear on his face stopped when he registered what I said. His face blanked, slowly turning white.
"W-what?"
My smile grew wider.
"You didn't forget, didn't you? I told you I would break all your fingers."
I grabbed his middle finger before yanking it like a lever in the wrong direction. His agonizing scream pierced the momentary silence, his eyes watering as his body recoiled from the pain.
Donald flinched.
Some of the others that weren't beaten too badly began to stir, his screams waking them up as I broke his fingers one by one. I made sure to give them clean breaks, so they'd heal faster. I didn't want one of my minions to be unable to defend himself for long.
"This is it, Donald."
I snapped his left pinky, another scream filling my ears for a moment before more sobbing came out of him. I had to beat the fuck out of him more when he tried to escape or fight back, before he resigned to his fate and simply braced as much as he could before I broke another finger.
"This is what it means, to be strong."
Right index.
"AAAAAAAUUHHHHH!!! MOMMY!! I'M SORRY!! I'M SORRY!!!!"
I glanced over at Donald, his eyes shifted to the ground.
"You think what's-his-face would've fucked with you, if he knew you would beat the fuck out of him?"
His eyes stayed on the ground, his hands clenching into fists.
"You have to be merciless. Ruthless. Thorough."
"To teach a worm its place — its head buried in the ground, not even daring to look up at you."
As they all slowly woke up from his screams of pain, they looked over to me in fear as I continued to keep my word. Even though Donald still tensed every time I snapped another finger the wrong way, I knew.
He was listening.