"Dude, I seriously didn't know that old shit-head Kiba would try somethin' as fucked up as that with you, man. Trust me, if I'd known…" Daigo was earnestly tryin' to apologize, his face etched with concern, when a new group of local hoodlums suddenly, gallantly, approached us, effectively blockin' our path.
There were about eight of them in total, all lookin' for trouble.
Two of them were already casually holdin' rough, splintered wooden clubs.
Three others held crude, obviously hand-made knives, which they were idly, menacingly, playin' with as they slowly, deliberately approached us.
While the remainin' others were, for the moment, bare-handed, but lookin' no less threatening for it.
I then noticed somethin' else, somethin' even uglier, was happenin' just behind them, further down the alley.
A skinny, twitchy guy was relentlessly beatin' the livin' shit out of someone else, who already seemed to be knocked out cold, or at least gradually, fatally, slippin' away into unconsciousness.
The unfortunate person who was currently takin' that brutal beatin' was just slumped limply on the filthy ground, with his broken back restin' against a dented, overflowing, rustin' old dumpster.
His sadistic assaulter just kept on clobberin' him with a flurry of vicious, unrestrained punches and brutal, stompin' kicks, all the while mutterin' and gigglin' like a completely deranged, cacklin' sociopath.
I and Daigo looked at each other at the exact same time, a silent, shared understanding passing between us.
I just looked at him to try and gauge his reaction to these new hoodlums now blocking our only way forward.
He didn't give any outward signal or sign that would suggest he knew these particular fuckers, or what their immediate deal, their beef with us, might be.
After several more seconds of that one-sided, savage beatin', which left that defenseless person an absolute, bloody mess, with teeth and gore scattering everywhere – and that was me just being fuckin' hopeful, because from where I stood, that person was clearly not even breathin' anymore – the psycho finally stopped.
"Alright, scumbags. Drop the fuckin' bag, and maybe, just maybe, we don't fuck both of you up too bad," the deranged psycho, obviously the leader, said in a low, raspy, drug-addled tone.
His red, bloodshot eyes were filled with a sickening, almost tangible sac of pure, unadulterated malice (he was definitely a fuckin' junkie, no doubt about it), as he slowly, arrogantly, walked towards us like he was some kinda fuckin' gang boss, casually scratchin' the bottom of his runny nose with a dirty index finger.
The other assorted hoodlums quickly, efficiently, surrounded us, just standin' there, waiting and smiling with anticipation, while their scrawny 'boss' walked right up to my front and then stopped, barely a foot away.
This so-called 'boss' is definitely an Evolve, I could feel that much, along with at least five other members of his shitty little crew.
He himself is definitely a D-Grade, though not nearly as domineering or powerful as my own goddamn father, or even most of the other D-Grades I have unfortunately come across in my short, shitty life.
But he still, undeniably, had a stronger presence, more raw power, than either me or Daigo by our lonesome, individual selves.
The other Evolves in his crew were all clearly E-Grade, but two of them, a big, hulking brute, still felt like he might be a borderline D-Grade himself and the other - human.
I couldn't say for fuckin' sure, not without a proper fight, but he was definitely up there, close to the threshold.
*
The hierarchy of Evolves is generally linear, and almost every Evolve can instinctively sense who is higher, equal, or lower than them in the brutal, unforgiving food chain.
Though Evolves can't typically know another Evolve's exact, numerical power level, they can usually get a pretty good feel for which Grade they might possibly fall under.
And this strange phenomenon, this primal instinct, appears to be common to all Arcane-beings, both Aggressors and Evolves alike.
They can all, to some extent, perceive each other's relative power, regardless of race, species, age, or gender.
But, like everythin' else in nature, nothin' is ever truly constant or absolute; there are always exceptions, freaks, and outliers.
All Arcane-beings possess varying amounts of arcane-energy, and it is primarily the sheer quantity of this internal energy that largely makes up where any given Arcane-being might fall in the overall hierarchy of power.
But it is in the specific context of the inherent nature of this mysterious 'energy' that a potential weakness, or sometimes a hidden blessing, often lies.
This energy doesn't really mess too much with the physical mass of things, either living or not.
Meaning, if the body that happens to house a large amount of arcane-energy isn't also a physically dense or durable one, or if it doesn't actively use its arcane energy to harden or reinforce itself, it will simply break down, shatter, when it is hit with enough brute, physical force.
And it also means that the actual, effective force an Arcane-being can create is ultimately dependent on both its available arcane-energy and the inherent mass and strength of its physical body.
Every Arcane-being's real, practical power level is ultimately derived from a combination of these two crucial factors; no one, absolutely no one, can ever truly cheat this fundamental law of nature.
*
The scrawny 'boss' of this particular group of worthless ball-sacks is probably only thirteen or maybe fourteen years old at most, makin' him significantly younger and noticeably shorter than me.
He is barely fuckin' 4.9 feet tall, if that, while I am a comparatively towering 5.5 or so.
The little bastard was also extremely, almost grotesquely, freaky skinny.
I know I am pretty damn thin and generally wrenched-lookin' myself, probably like a dried-out, rotten stick most days, but this little motherfucker here was basically just fuckin' dried-bones held together by sheer spite.
He was so incredibly fuckin' skinny that describin' him as a starvin', dried-up worm that's about to die isn't too far off the goddamn mark, and most of his equally pathetic goons weren't much better.
This ignorant little kid clearly knows next to nothin' about actually bein' an Evolve, and he's still just findin' out his proper place, his actual chain, in the overall food chain.
Even if it's true that no sane Evolve will ever willingly, or lightly, dare to face a significantly stronger Evolve in a direct confrontation – it was basically just fuckin' common sense, a survival instinct – these particular motherfuckers here are about to fuckin' learn the hard way about some notable exceptions to that general rule.
And most important of all… I'm really, really fuckin' angry right now.
**
As that single, liberating thought of pure, unhinged rage finally sounded with crystal clarity in Shitsubo's mind, he exploded into motion.
He slammed a vicious, unexpected head-butt straight into the surprised face of the skinny kid-boss standin' directly in front of him.
This sudden, brutal attack kick-started the inevitable, desperate fight between Shitsubo and Daigo on one side, against all eight of these 'wanna-be-gangsters,' these local hoodlums, on the other.
The force of the head-butt caused the kid-boss to stumble a few steps back, clearly disoriented, his eyes losing focus.
Shitsubo then instantly grabbed the neck of his ragged, filthy singlet with both hands and forcefully pulled him closer, delivering a short, deadly jab straight to his already bleeding nose.
This made the kid-boss stagger backward again, now with even less control over his own body.
But Shitsubo didn't let go, pullin' him violently forward again (never loosenin' his death grip on the cheap fabric of the jacket for even a second) and then gave him another clean, bone-jarring jab right to his broken, gushing nose.
The kid-boss was stepping backwards yet again from the repeated impacts, but this time he was almost completely falling down, with a deep, ugly cut now clearly visible on the bridge of his nose, and dark blood already smearin' all over his shocked, pain-filled face.
As Shitsubo then launched a powerful front kick, aimed at the bleeding, crumpling kid-boss's chest, a huge, heavy wooden stick suddenly descended from his blind side.
It slammed hard into Shitsubo's right leg, completely neutralizing his intended front kick, and sendin' a shockwave of agony up his limb.
But before Shitsubo could even begin to reconcile with this new, searing pain, or even turn his head to face his unseen attacker, the goon attacked again.
He delivered a deadly, horizontal swing aimed at Shitsubo's abdomen.
The brutal impact made the top part of the thick wooden stick actually break apart, splinterin' and flyin' away into the alley.
It also made Shitsubo fall hard onto his back on the unforgiving, filthy ground, with barely any air left in his fuckin' lungs.
The attacker quickly marched forward, advancin' on the downed Shitsubo, who was still desperately tryin' to make heads or tails of what the fuck had just happened to him, and simultaneously tryin' to suck in a proper, life-givin' breath.
The goon raised the remaining, jagged part of his broken stick high up above his head, obviously preparing to destroy Shitsubo's exposed face with a final, crushing blow.
When, suddenly, another huge, heavy stick came flyin' through the air and landed squarely on his face, sendin' him into a momentary daze for barely two critical seconds as he, too, stumbled a few involuntary steps back.
Daigo immediately ran towards the guy he'd just cleverly thrown his own stick at, nimbly jumpin' clean over Shitsubo (who was still tryin' to get his wind back on the ground) and then landed a swiftly executed, vicious kick right to the surprised guy's unprotected balls.
As that guy's entire defense completely crumbled due to the debilitating, eye-waterin' cock-shot, another different guy came runnin' towards Daigo from behind, with the clear attempt to stab him in the back.
But he was surprised to suddenly feel two strong arms wrappin' tightly around his own waist from an unexpected angle, and before he could even begin to react to this new threat, he felt his legs liftin' clean off the fuckin' floor.
Shitsubo had quickly gotten himself back up the instant he noticed another person jump over him, just a few seconds after Daigo had done the same.
(He didn't have enough time in that chaotic moment to grasp the exact identity of that first person who'd jumped over him, but the crucial fact that that person hadn't immediately attacked him while he was down, made him correctly assume that his worthless ass had just been saved by Daigo's quick thinkin').
He immediately scrambled off the filthy floor and ran full tilt towards the guy who was now tryin' to attack Daigo from his blind side.
Shitsubo didn't even notice, in his haste, that he himself had barely, miraculously, dodged both a strong, stompin' foot aimed at his head and another wild, wooden stick swing.
Both of these attacks landed harmlessly on the bare ground instead, as Shitsubo struggled for a split second to regain his balance, but still managed to continue his charge and wrap his arms powerfully around the new guy's waist.
He lifted this attacker clean off the ground and then, with a guttural roar, threw him violently backwards, holdin' onto the guy's waist tightly with both his arms, not lettin' go for even a nanosecond – expertly deliverin' a swift, brutal suplex.
As Shitsubo and his unfortunate opponent fell backwards together towards the hard ground, one of the other nearby goons attempted to hit the airborne Shitsubo with his own weapon in mid-air.
But he didn't weigh this risky action properly at all, and his wild, uncontrolled swing instead struck the exposed head of the guy Shitsubo was currently throwin' backwards, hittin' him with a sickening, skull-crackin' force that sent that unlucky goon's head swingin' limply, unnaturally, far to his left.
Since his head was already slightly, fatally tipped to the left from that friendly fire incident, when Shitsubo finally slammed him backwards hard onto the unyieldin' ground, his neck met the floor at an impossible angle and fuckin' snapped with an audible, final crack.
Shitsubo barely registered what had actually happened in that chaotic instant, but he did notice that other guy swingin' a heavy stick right as he was throwin' himself backwards for the suplex.
So, the moment he landed, he immediately, instinctively, rolled quickly to his right, avoidin' any potential follow-up attack.
Meanwhile, Daigo gave the 'cock-shot' guy a brutal elbow strike to the temple, causin' that guy to fall sideways like a discarded sack of shit.
It was then that he heard a loud, sickening thud from behind him, and he immediately spun around to look.
An upward, slashing swing from a shabby, rust-stained knife cut him vertically on his chest, drawin' blood, as a new goon, seizing the momentary distraction, stopped his initial momentum and then swiftly, almost instantly, repositioned his knife, strikin' out again, this time towards the vulnerable left side of Daigo's exposed neck.
He swung the knife horizontally, aiming for Daigo's throat.
Daigo reacted with lightnin' speed, quickly interceptin' the deadly blow by usin' his own left wrist (his hand balled into a tight fist) to expertly jam and then wedge the opposite side of his attacker's elbow, effectively neutralizin' the knife hand.
The attacker, his arm now trapped, instinctively dropped the knife, with the clear intent of tryin' to catch it as it fell with his now-free left hand.
But Daigo, anticipatin' this, immediately gave him two swift, hard jabs to his nose as soon as he noticed the guy droppin' the knife and registerin' his intention.
The knife clattered uselessly to the ground as the attacker was not given any chance to catch it, his face now a mask of pain.
Daigo then roughly pulled the attacker closer with his still-grippin' hand, deftly turnin' him around the opposite way to let the attacker momentarily rest, off-balance, on his own back a bit.
Then, Daigo delivered a vicious back kick to the attacker's exposed left leg, just behind the knee, makin' the attacker completely lose his footin'.
He immediately followed this by liftin' the now-stumbling attacker clean off the ground, usin' his own back for leverage, and then slammin' him down hard onto the unforgivin' ground directly in front of him, with a bone-jarring impact.
As that goon fell flat on his back, completely stunned, Daigo immediately began givin' him a flurry of deadly, precise punches right to his unprotected face.
He rained down blow after blow, givin' the unfortunate goon deep, bleedin' cuts all over his face as teeth and blood spilled out fuckin' everywhere, quickly makin' his features an unrecognizable, pulpy mess.
As Daigo systematically demolished that guy's face with his relentless punches, another goon (this one clearly not an Evolve, just some regular street trash) foolishly picked up the heavy wooden stick that had been used earlier by the now-fallen 'cock-shot' guy.
He came runnin' towards Daigo from the side and brought the stick crashin' down hard across Daigo's exposed back.
The blow clearly hurt, pushin' Daigo a bit forward from the force of the impact, but he just slowly, deliberately, turned his back towards his newest assailant and then looked at this non-Evolved goon with cold, murderous eyes, like he was about to put down a particularly annoying, rabid dog.