After his class, Luke secluded himself for lunch. He wasn't shy, but he cherished the moments he spent alone with himself. He never went to the cafeteria, preferring to buy a sandwich and find a place where no one would disturb him.

His favorite spot was on the roof of a small warehouse used for storage, slightly off-campus. From there, he watched the cars pass on the highway a few hundred meters away. He sat cross-legged, chewing his sandwich, atop the several-feet-high building. The flat roof and raised edges hid him from the occasional passerby.

Luke was a creature of habit. There were probably better places than this one, but he hadn't looked any further. Being there suited him. The distant noise of cars was almost pleasant to his ears. He had learned to prefer mechanical sounds to the voices of students. Cars were more honest, in his opinion.

And precisely, voices, on this sunny afternoon, he heard approaching. He punctuated the approaching footsteps with his chewing noises. The building he was on was about 25 feet high. Too high to be seen, but too low to escape the noise of passersby.

The warehouse was isolated; no one ever came there outside of class hours. The nearest building was a hundred meters away.

Yet Luke heard male voices, several, maybe four. He then closed his eyes, stopped chewing, and focused.

From the sound of the footsteps, there were five men.

Luke opened his eyes and looked skyward. He hated being disturbed. He hoped these visitors would just be passersby.

But the course of events buried that hope.

He heard a dull thud. One of the men had just been pushed against the warehouse wall. Voices began to rise.

Luke finished chewing what was in his mouth, and he laid down on the roof to look at the sky. It was blue, dotted with a few white clouds. The sun was at its zenith, and it was hot.

Luke wore only his regulation white shirt. He had set aside his cloak and vest, folded next to him.

He closed his eyes again, this time hoping to sleep for a few minutes, as usual.

But his heightened senses did not allow him to ignore any longer what was happening a few feet below him. The sound of a punch to the stomach. A man with the wind knocked out of him, trying to breathe as best he could. A few snickers. The smell of blood, of violence in the air.

Luke wanted to ignore the scene. He had nothing to gain by acting. Moreover, any of these five men could be the killer.

Yet, a few seconds later, Luke descended from his perch via the service ladder.

He could have jumped down without difficulty, but Luke was very careful not to use his abilities, even when no one was around.

When his feet touched the ground, he advanced and turned the corner of the building.

He let out a sigh upon seeing the scene, as if at the same time, he had just realized the situation he had just put himself in.

There, in front of him, were the five men. The smallest of the group had a swollen face and a dazed look. Another – the tallest of the group – stood with clenched fists, menacingly, panting heavily. The other three men hung back, watching the scene with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment.

"Surely they're hyenas, feeling guilty about their cowardice and the pleasure they take in witnessing cruelty," Luke thought, watching them carefully. No one had noticed him yet. He cleared his throat and began to speak in an innocent voice, his cape fluttering slightly, "Excuse me, could you tell me when classes resume?"

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The four men - who indeed resembled hyenas - turned to face him. The young man, with his back against the wall, did not turn around; he stared at the ground while wiping the blood from his nose. Luke's mind was blank.

He was slightly panicked but showed no sign of it.

It wasn't because of the men he was facing, but because he had just put himself in a situation that would undoubtedly earn him a scolding from Hannah. She had explicitly told him to keep a low profile. And now, he was intervening in a dispute that would likely have ended with only a few bruises for the victim.

"Damn... What am I doing..." Luke thought, displaying a faint smirk.

The tallest of the four men stepped forward, stopping just inches from Luke, towering over him. With fists reddened from recent blows, the tall man had an athletic build and a passive yet menacing face.

He breathed heavily, his nostrils flaring with each exhale. The force of his breath gently stirred Luke's hair, who appeared stressed. The man believed his intimidation was the cause.

"What do you want?" the man asked. He wasn't wearing a cape, his hair disheveled, and his square jaw well-defined.

Luke glanced to the side, seemingly stuck and disturbed by a choice he already regretted.

"I can beat them without using psychic reinforcement! Okay... But if I beat them, it'll become known, and I'll draw attention to myself... What do I do now?" Luke wondered.

A pain in his stomach brought him back to reality.

He was winded.

The thug had just punched him in the gut. Had he lost patience? Had he ever had any?

Patience requires a certain level of self-control, which a basic thug like him probably didn't have. But it didn't matter. By reflex, Luke had used his psychic abilities, which allowed him - among other things - to boost any part of his body.

This power called 'reinforcement', he had used on his brain.

All the information gleaned from his senses was analyzed at a staggering speed, making time seem to pass more slowly.

His body anticipated the pain of the blows, allowing him to know where his attacker would strike even before the impact.

Luke saw the punches coming in advance.

He felt his assailant's muscles contract, joints move, and bones rotate - all in slow motion.

"The fifth and sixth ribs on the right side," thought Luke fleetingly before the thought vanished, replaced by another: "Stomach, small intestine."

As he felt a blow to his right ribs, he allowed it to happen.

He had trained hard, risked his life time and again.

His body was strong; the strikes didn't hurt, or at least not much.

The bile rising in his throat didn't bother him - it was the price of his foolishness.

"Why did I intervene? This kind of thing happens every day. I'm nobody to stop it. Besides, I have my own problems. The only person I need to protect is Hannah... not some weakling too cowardly to defend himself." These thoughts raced through Luke's mind as he endured the beating.

His attacker struck him for only about twenty seconds.

The blows were fast and powerful for a man without special abilities, but he seemed out of breath. Luke still stood, his gaze empty and focused on the horizon. He glanced on the side at the young victim pinned against the wall, whose face was twisted and swollen, but his small eyes were relieved. Today, someone else was taking the abuse in his place.

Luke felt nothing upon seeing this.

His attacker delivered a final kick to his stomach, as if trying to knock him down.

Luke obliged, collapsing onto the sun-scorched, yellowed grass.

As a final insult, the man spat on the ground near Luke, seemingly reassured that he'd managed to bring him down.

Fear had started to take hold when he saw his blows had little effect.

The man backed away, put on his cape, wiped the sweat from his face, and motioned for his three friends to follow him back to campus.

Luke laid on the grass, watching the clouds drift by, his face reddened from the blows and his lip split open.

He seemed lost in thought, as if unconcerned with what had just happened.

The young man approached Luke timidly, looked at him for a moment, then mumbled his thanks. He picked up his fallen cape and returned to campus, leaving Luke behind.

Luke took a few minutes to get up, brushed some grass off his cape, adjusted his vest, and headed towards campus himself.

"I wonder how Hannah will react when she sees me like this?" he mused, strolling with a newfound nonchalance.