ALRIGHT-bet
THE KING OF ONE HIGHSOOL HERO
Chapter 2: Street Lesson
The sun was low, painting the street gold and red. Ryan walked with his hood up, hands in his pockets, the weight of his backpack hanging off one shoulder. Music played faintly through his earbuds — calm, slow, the kind of beat that made you forget where you were.
Up ahead, seven guys leaned against a wall — all of them Korean, all of them dressed the same way. Cigarettes burned between their fingers as they laughed, blowing smoke into the air. When they saw Ryan walking alone, their grins sharpened.
One of them grabbed a metal bat, tapping it on the ground.
"Hey, you there," he said, stepping forward. "Give us all you got."
The one in the center — their leader — tilted his head, eyes narrow and amused. He pointed at Ryan. "You heard him."
Ryan stopped. The smoke drifted past him. He looked at the bat, not the faces. Then his voice came out low.
"Move."
The gang started laughing. The guy with the bat smirked, walking closer.
"What you gonna do about it, huh?" he said — then swung.
Ryan's hand shot up. He caught the bat mid-swing, the metal stopping cold in his grip. With a flick of his wrist, he threw it away, the sound of it clattering against the sidewalk echoing down the street.
He dropped his backpack to the side.
The first guy barely had time to breathe before Ryan drove a punch straight into his chest — one hit, solid and deep. The boy flew back, hitting the wall and sliding down.
The other six froze for half a second, then charged.
Ryan ducked under a swing, caught another by the neck, slammed his knee up, and threw him to the ground. One tried to catch Ryan from behind, but Ryan leapt onto a parked car and kicked him square in the face. The guy dropped, the cigarette rolling out of his mouth.
Ryan brushed off the smoke from his hoodie, exhaled slow.
Three left.
He started walking toward them. One swung again, desperate.
Ryan smirked. "You brave."
He caught the bat with one hand and snapped it clean in half, then slammed the guy's head into the wall. The crunch echoed. The last one hesitated, hand shaking as he pulled out a small knife.
Before he could move, Ryan stepped in — one fast punch to the throat. The boy dropped, choking.
The final one tried to run. Ryan moved faster, jumping forward and landing a flying kick that sent him crashing onto the pavement. He grabbed the guy by the shirt, lifted him halfway up the wall, stared into his face for a long second — then let go.
The street went silent.
Ryan picked up his backpack, swung it over his shoulder, and kept walking like nothing happened. The smoke from their cigarettes still hung in the air behind him, fading slow.