I couldn't just stand there like everyone else, frozen or pretending not to see. So I dashed across the road. "Hey, leave him alone! What do you think you're doing?" I shouted.

One of the guys—not the one with the tattoo—glared at me. "Mind your own business," he snapped. "This has nothing to do with you."

I pulled out my phone, ready to call the cops. "Back off, or I'm calling the police right now," I warned them.

Before I knew it, the guy with the bat swung at me. I stumbled back, my phone slipping from my hand and hitting the ground. He swung again, and I barely dodged. Then a third swing came, each one closer than the last.

"You can't dodge forever," Bagley said in my head. "You're going to have to fight back eventually."

Dodging his attacks, I yelled, "How am I supposed to fight back? I don't even know how to fight!"

"Absorb a soul," Bagley instructed. "You have two stored. Focus on the one you want to absorb."

I tried to do what he said, but the guy kept swinging, giving me no chance. Then he overreached, leaving himself open. I managed to shove him back—not very impressively, but it made Bagley wince. Still, it gave me a moment to concentrate. Everything seemed to slow down.

I saw the image of the first guy I killed. He wore a white robe, his skin pale white. His teeth pure white, and his tattoo was gone, in fact his skin was clean from everything. No marks, no scars, nothing.

"That's a soul in its purest form," Bagley explained. "To absorb it, just focus, and it'll happen naturally."

Do you wish to absorb 1 soul?

I thought "yes," and the man dissolved into blue energy that flowed into me. It felt revitalizing—not overwhelming or mind-altering, but it gave me a boost.

I felt something change inside me. Suddenly, I was steadier, more in control of my movements. Out of nowhere, memories of boxing popped into my head. They showed me how to execute moves, how to time them, how to dodge just right. I knew how to throw a jab, a hook, even an uppercut with precision.

It was like I was an AI model getting data uploaded into me—all this knowledge downloading straight into my brain. I was picking it up and mimicking it perfectly.

Time resumed, and the bat came down at me. I sidestepped and punched him in the gut. He jerked back, clutching where I hit him.

"Ugh, you bastard. Why won't you get hit?" he snarled.

"Maybe because your mom gave birth to a cross-eyed fool," I shot back.

He screamed in rage and started swinging his bat wildly at me. Guess I hit a nerve. I tried my best to dodge, but his swings were all over the place, and one caught me on the temple. I felt a sting and then a trickle of blood. He smirked. "That'll teach you to shut up," he sneered.

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"Maybe I'll ask your mom—I hear she's good with her mouth," I retorted.

"Stop taunting him and finish this," Bagley groaned in my head. He was fed up with my banter.

I sighed and took a fighting stance. The guy paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You think boxing will save you?" he jeered.

I didn't answer. I closed the gap quickly. He swung at me with one hand, but it lacked power. I blocked it with my right arm and delivered a hook straight to his chin. His knees buckled; he crumpled to the ground.

"Finish him," Bagley urged.

"No," I replied firmly. "I've killed enough today."

"You'll regret this. Thugs don't return mercy," he warned.

I ignored him and rushed over to help Mr. Mann. He was lying on the floor, watching me fight. "Thanks, Zakir," he murmured as I helped him up. He tried to dust off his clothes but winced, clutching his ribs. Clearly, he was hurt.

"We need to get you to a doctor," I insisted, worry creeping into my voice.

He shook his head stubbornly. "No, really, I'm o—"

"Look out!" I yelled, shoving him back as a knife slashed between us. We barely moved in time, and the blade grazed my arm. It stung, but I ignored the pain and faced the second thug holding the knife.

"Nice scar my buddy gave you," he taunted, nodding at the wound on my temple.

I didn't bother replying. I lunged at him, but he blocked me and swung the knife at my chest. I sidestepped and tried to knock the knife out of his hand, but he flipped it upward. He grabbed me, slammed me down, and as he caught the knife on its way down, he aimed it at my eye. I caught the blade with my bare hands, the sharp edges cutting deep. Blood ran from my fingers. He pushed harder; my grip was failing. The knife inched closer to my eye.

"Get off him!" Mr. Mann shouted, yanking the thug away. The guy twisted and swung at Mr. Mann; the blade tore through his shirt but missed his skin. The force sent the thug stumbling forward. Seeing my chance, I kicked the back of his knees. He recovered quickly, tilted his head, and tried to stab me again. Without thinking, I used his momentum to redirect the knife straight into his throat. Blood poured out as the knife lodged there. He grasped at it, but his strength was fading fast. He struggled to say something.

"My... father... will... end... you," he rasped before collapsing, blood pooling around him. I stood there, gasping for air, eyes locked on what I'd done. I'd promised myself I wouldn’t kill another human being after that day in the park, and now, just a week later, I'd broken that vow. A numbness washed over me. I glanced at Mr. Mann; he stared back, speechless. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

A shout broke the silence behind us. It was the guy with the baseball bat. "You idiot!" he screamed. "Do you know what you've done? You've signed our death warrants! You killed the one man you shouldn't have! Now we're all dead!"

He kept staring at me, waiting for a reaction. But when I didn't give him one, he turned and ran off into the distance. I stood there, frozen, until I felt a hand rest gently on my shoulder. It was Bagley.

"It's not your fault," he said softly, watching the guy disappear down the street. "If you hadn't killed him, he would've killed you."

Sirens wailed somewhere far off, but I couldn't bring myself to move. Mr. Mann tried to help me up, and after a moment, I managed to stand on my own feet. Words failed me as the weight of what I'd done pressed down on me. The realization was overwhelming. Then, out of nowhere, I was shoved hard to the ground.

I didn't bother looking up—I didn't need to. When I looked ahead, I saw Mr. Mann on the ground too. A police officer was pressing him down, snapping handcuffs around his wrists. I felt cold metal clamp around my own wrists as well. They said something into my ear, but the words didn't register. I just closed my eyes and let the darkness take over.