"Help me…"
Her weak plea shattered against the laughter of the four men holding her down with excessive force. As if this starving, frail girl could even escape the grip of just one of them… With one hand, one man could pin her to the ground, and with the other, easily tear apart her threadbare clothes.
One of the four men said, "Come on now…" as he grasped her leg, which she shook desperately. "Come on, show me how the lights heal their wounds."
He pulled his cigarette away from his lips and pressed it into her bare stomach. The scent of scorching flesh… her piercing screams… increased their laughter.
But her skin did not stop bubbling. The dark reddish-brown burn still hissed, and the main man stared at it, puzzled. Why?
Angrily, the man yelled, "What's this? Why aren't you healing?!"
He released her leg—plenty of other hands were still holding her down. He took her face in both hands and shouted, "How dare you scar the body that will be mine today! Why aren't you healing?!" His last words came as he struck her hard across the face.
The slap stung. She wasn't surprised; her face knew this kind of pain all too well. But what did surprise her was the young man sitting on a nearby rock. Her ears rang, and her head throbbed, yet she could see him clearly—this black-haired boy with a scar on his face. He could see her? Maybe not? Still, if she screamed, he'd come to her rescue. Wouldn't he?
She yelled, "Help me!"
He still didn't move. She yelled harder, "Please, help me!" using every bit of strength she had, thrashing beneath their many hands. Still, he didn't stir. Perhaps her voice was weaker than she realized, or maybe the ringing in her ears kept her from knowing how loud she really was. Maybe she was just whispering without knowing it. That had to be it.
But... He was looking straight at her.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as the man with the cigarette stood over her naked body, starting to unfasten his belt.
He sneered, "Hey, kid, looks like you want to learn how to be a real man."
The man turned to the boy on the rock, pants down. "This is what a human man looks like!" His men burst into crude laughter at his horrible joke. None of them cared about anything but the girl beneath them. They nearly drooled with anticipation, waiting like obedient dogs for their leader to finish.
She fixated her eyes on the boy on the rock; he was still looking at her. He didn't take his eyes away until both of them heard a sudden scream cutting through the air. Someone was coming.
The man with the cigarette and his followers turned toward the source of that sudden shout. A blond boy raced toward them. Before they could speak, before the leader could rise off her, before he could pull up his pants, the blond boy's foot slammed into the leader's face.
The cigarette fell from his mouth, extinguished by the blood dripping from his busted lip. Gasping for breath, the blond boy took a moment, leaning on his knees. The leader's face flushed red with rage as he snarled, "How… how dare you touch me, you filthy light-blooded! You cursed spawn!"
His loyal followers sprang up as well. How dare this kid dishonor their leader? They advanced toward him in pure anger.
One growled, "I'll tear out your heart."
The other, "I'll carve your dirty flesh and feed it to this wretched town."
The blond boy looked at the shocked girl on the ground with a faint smile, hiding his anger behind gentle words: "Don't you think this might be your chance to get up?"
Exhausted from lying on the cold ground, she rose quickly, still sobbing, nearly screaming as she gathered every scrap of her torn clothes. She couldn't leave a single piece behind—she had no others. Even a ripped shirt could be sewn back together somehow. She wouldn't abandon it.
The leader and his men surrounded the blond boy. In a deep voice, the leader growled, "Doesn't matter if that whore got away. You, with that blond hair and green eyes, will be more than enough."
Another man cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, Boss, to be honest, he's more my type than that skinny thing."
The blond boy kept a faint smile and stood firm at the center of their circle. Was he challenging them? Trying to act brave and strong?
The leader's eyes burned with fury. Did this kid think a lucky kick could help him beat them all? He'd show him who truly owned this city—their blood! He lunged and seized the boy's throat with strong fingers. First, he'd choke him until his face turned blue, until he couldn't breathe, until he pawed at his hands with pitiful eyes. Then he'd make him do anything he pleased. Lastly, he'd kill him and erase him from the world.
But… his vision blurred. He couldn't see well. His throat hurt. Had it always hurt like this? He couldn't remember. He couldn't breathe. The black-haired boy on the rock—how did he get here so fast? Why were his hands around his neck now?
The last thing he heard before being flung into a nearby pile of rocks, his blood staining them red, was a frightening voice saying, "Don't. Touch. Nier."
The men stared at the rocks wet with their leader's blood, at the scrawny black-haired boy who stood in front of the blonde boy, and at their unconscious leader. Then they looked at that bony boy's body again.
Finally, one of them screamed, "How dare you, you damned filthy blooded! I'll kill you with my own two hands!" He drew a small knife. If only he had his sword! That idiot squad leader had insisted they come without uniforms or swords. At least he had this knife.
Before he could reach the black-haired boy, he found himself staring at the sky. Why was he looking at clouds? Suddenly, he was laying flat on the ground, and the skinny boy hovered over him. How was he that fast, that strong? Was this the power… of the spawns of the lights?
The skinny boy's fists rained down mercilessly, each punch erasing the man's thoughts, features, and even his will to resist. Punch after punch... The last two men watched in terror, frozen. One of them thought, We need to do something now, as another punch landed on his friend's face.
Now… another punch. Now's the time… another punch. Each blow shook them to their cores.
The blonde boy turned his face away from the gruesome scene. Finally, one man found the courage to speak. "Don't you know who we are? We're humans! You'll be executed! You'll die, you bastard! You will die!"
Another punch from the skinny boy now hit one of them, quicker than he could react! Even the skinny boy seemed surprised by his own strength. He thought as he continued beating on the other man, How were their bodies so fragile?
The last man turned tail and fled toward the gates, screaming, "What is this?! Damn you, spawn of the lights!"
The blonde boy placed a hand on the skinny boy's shoulder, prompting him to stop beating the unconscious man beneath him. He paused, checking if the blonde boy was unharmed. Yes, he was fine.
In an irritated, angry voice, the skinny boy said, "Nier! Stop getting involved in shit that doesn't concern you!!"
Nier flared up. "You should've been the one to intervene, Elir! Why didn't you help her?"
Elir sat on the ground, as though baffled by the question. "Why would I help her? Do you know her?"
Nier's face burned with anger as he screamed, "Do you need to know people to save them?!"
As usual, those types of lines never work on Elir. No matter what Nier said, Elir never helped anyone.
Nier collapsed on the ground next to Elir, looking at the sky and said in exhaustion, "Oh my god, man, you're hopeless. How will you join the army if you can't even help one girl?" Elir didn't reply; he just stared at Nier in silence.
Nier stared back at him, thinking, Still, by saving me, Elir saved the girl in the end. If that's what it takes for Elir to save others, he'd force him to save him a thousand times.