Zuri’s chest rose and fell steadily, her stance unwavering as she squared off against Scuttle.

Zuri, a 15-year-old girl with dark brown skin like polished ebony, stood firm. Her black curls—interwoven with shoulder-length dreadlocks—framed her face, swaying faintly with each motion. A sleeveless crop top revealed her toned arms, and snug blue jeans gave her freedom to move. Three large metallic rings rested on each forearm, with a fourth gripped tightly in her hand, her fingers curling around it with ease.

Scuttle's face twisted in fury, his thin mustache twitching as he stomped forward. The lingering pain from Zuri's earlier kick to his groin was clear in his stiff, uneven stride. In his hands, he gripped a jagged whip, its length studded with sharp metal shards meant to tear through flesh like butter. He spun it lazily, the whip emitting a harsh whir, punctuated by the grating scrape of metal against metal, filling the air with a menacing sound.

“You’ve got guts, brat,” Scuttle sneered. “But humiliating me? That's your last mistake.”

Zuri rolled her eyes, flexing her arms as the rings around her forearms shifted subtly with her movements. “Oh, Mouse man,” she mocked, tilting her head. “What’s the matter? Still feeling sore?”

Scuttle’s face darkened at her taunt, his expression twisting into one of barely-contained fury. His triangular face, framed by short, neatly parted hair, reddened as his curled moustache twitched violently. His large, mouse-like ears—too big to be average but not quite as exaggerated as a true demi-human.

He resembled a humanoid rodent so closely that anyone who glanced at him might assume he was a half-breed. The resemblance was uncanny, right down to the sharp angles of his face and the way his ears stood out. The only thing confirming his humanity was the absence of a tail; a detail that should have set him apart as human but instead became a source of bitterness, as it reminded him of the constant comparisons to demi-humans. Being mistaken for a mouse hybrid was a sore point for Scuttle, dredging up memories he preferred to bury, and her taunt hit like a dagger to the heart of his insecurities.

His voice came out as a low, menacing growl, trembling with rage. “Keep running that mouth, little girl. Let’s see if you’re still laughing when I’ve got you face down in the dirt, begging me to stop.” He snapped the whip with a vicious flick of his wrist, the sharp crack punctuating his next words. “I will see how clever that tongue of yours is when I carve it clean off.”

Zuri tilted her head, her lips curling into a mocking smirk. “Yap-Yap Mouse Man, your threats are as pathetic as your face. You’d scare me more if you just stood there quietly.”

Scuttle stepped forward, snapping the whip again, its jagged shards tearing through the air. “Let’s see if you’re still yappin' when you’re on your knees, brat!”

Zuri’s fists tightened around her rings. “On my knees? Funny. I was about to say the same to you.”

She had no time for games, not when so many innocent lives were at stake. Adjusting her stance, her bare toes dug into the scorched dirt for balance. The rings around her forearms caught the light, clinking faintly with each subtle shift.

“Big talk for a guy who’s still limping from a fifteen-year-old’s foot,” Zuri said, “Bet that bruise’s gonna hurt more than your pride tomorrow.”

With a roar, Scuttle lashed out, the whip slicing toward her. Zuri moved instinctively, her Anima-enhanced muscles twitching with energy, surging through her body as she sprang into action. She raised her arm, spinning the rings to intercept the blow. The whip struck with a metallic clang, sparks flying as the jagged edges scraped against her rings. The force jolted her arm, but she held firm, her feet digging into the blood-soaked earth.

“You’re quick,” Scuttle growled, yanking the whip back and swinging again.

“And you’re slow,” Zuri shot back, leaping to the side. But the sting from her earlier wound, the sword wound from Fallow flared, fresh blood seeping through the bandages. Zuri bit back a hiss, but Scuttle’s sharp eyes didn’t miss it. His smirk widened like a wolf catching a scent.

“Slowing down already, huh?” he taunted, snapping the whip with a cruel flick. This time, it struck true. The jagged metal grazed her shoulder, shredding the fabric of her crop top and reopening the wound. Zuri stumbled back, her knees nearly buckling as a fresh jolt of pain shot through her arm. Blood trickled down her arm, staining her fingers red.

Scuttle advanced, sensing an opening. “Tougher with words than with flesh, huh, brat?” he sneered, snapping the whip toward her. Zuri raised her rings to block, but the impact rattled through her bones, her wounded arm throbbing harder.

Zuri dodged the next strike, closing the distance between them. With a sharp pivot, she drove her ring-covered knuckles into Scuttle’s forearm. He grunted in pain, the whip almost slipping from his grasp.

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He quickly threw the whip to his other hand and swung it, this time in a wide arc aimed at her legs. Zuri jumped, twisting mid-air and bringing her rings down onto the whip, pinning it to the ground. Before Scuttle could yank it free, she slammed a second punch into his jaw, the impact enhanced by her Anima enhanced strength.

“You’re tough, but you’re still just a kid!” Scuttle snarled, letting go of the whip.

Not wasting a second, Zuri spun her body, using her momentum to deliver a crushing elbow strike to his ribs. The rings on her forearm clanged loudly against his armor, and Scuttle stumbled back, clutching his side.

“You little—” he growled, reaching for the dagger at his belt.

Zuri dodged his wild slashes, her movements were fluid and precise. She deflected the blade with her rings, sparks flying with each clash. She slammed her fist into his wrist, forcing the dagger to clatter to the ground. In a desperate attempt Scuttle swung his other arm wildly, but Zuri ducked under the blow, her agility and training kept her just out of reach. She retaliated with a rising uppercut, her rings catching his jaw with a sickening crack.

The gang members nearby jeered and hollered, egging Scuttle on. “Get her, Scuttle! Don’t let a kid show you up!”

Zuri ignored them. Her eyes burned with fury as she circled her opponent, her voice cutting through the noise. “You call yourselves men? You slaughter children, crucify the weak, and laugh about it? How can anyone be so heartless? so cruel?”

Scuttle chuckled darkly, wiping blood from his mouth. “Heartless? Cruel? brat, this world is built on cruelty. You think you’re special, girl? You think your kind hasn’t seen worse? The things they did to your kin…” His grin widened cruelly. “Makes me wonder how you even survived, slave.”

The word hit like a hammer. Zuri froze, her breath catching as the weight of his words settled over her. The cries of the villagers seemed to grow louder, the images of the stakes burning into her vision. Her fists tightened, her rings grinding against each other.

“What did you just say?” she questioned, her voice low.

“You heard me,” Scuttle sneered. “Slaves like you don’t last long in a world like this. Guess you’re the exception. For now.”

Zuri’s teeth clenched. The anger bubbling inside her erupted, Anima surging through her muscles. Her rings, they chimed softly the air around her humming with a dangerous tension.

“Say that again,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

“I said—”

She didn’t let him finish. With a roar, Zuri lunged forward, her rings spinning rapidly as she unleashed a barrage of strikes. One punch to his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs in a rough wheeze. Another to his shoulder, dislocating it with a sickening pop.

Scuttle roared, desperation fueling his next move. Instead of retreating, he lunged at Zuri, grabbing her injured arm in an iron grip. Her sharp cry pierced the air as his fingers dug into the raw wound, grinding the torn flesh. Fire shot through her body, the agony so intense her vision swam in a haze of red.

“What’s wrong, girl?” Scuttle snarled, his face inches from hers, spittle flying as he hissed the words. “You’re not so cocky now, are you?”

Zuri growled through gritted teeth, sweat mixing with the blood trickling down her arm. She could feel the strength in her limbs faltering, the world around her narrowing to his cruel, gloating face.

“Let… go!” she roared, twisting her body with everything she had left. Her free hand shot up, the ring clenched so tightly her knuckles ached. With all the force she could muster, she smashed it into Scuttle’s temple. The brutal crack of metal against bone silenced the jeering around them.

Scuttle staggered, his movements wild and desperate. He swung a clumsy fist, but Zuri caught his arm with a ring, twisting it with a sharp crack. He screamed, his knees buckling, but she didn’t stop. She spun behind him, her movements relentless, and brought both fists down onto his back. The impact sent him crashing to the ground, his face hitting the blood-soaked dirt.

Zuri faltered back, clutching her wounded arm. Blood ran in thin rivulets down her knuckles, streaking her forearms in dark red. Scuttle groaned, his hands fumbling against the blood-soaked dirt as he tried to push himself up. Before he could move an inch, Zuri stepped forward, her shadow looming over him like a judge about to pass sentence.

“You don’t get to talk about my kind,” Zuri spat, her knee pressing into his spine. Her voice shook with anger, but her gaze burned with unyielding resolve. She slammed her foot into his side, rolling him onto his back.

Scuttle coughed, blood dripping from his mouth. “You… little…”

“You tried to use my wound to break me,” Zuri said, her voice calm but edged with fury. She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of a trembling hand. “But all you did was remind me how much pain I can take. You should’ve run when you had the chance.”

“And this is for every woman, every child, every innocent soul you’ve hurt,” she said. She stood, dragging him up by his collar before delivering a final, bone-rattling punch to his face. His head snapped to the side, and his body went limp, unconscious.

Zuri stood over him, breathing heavily. The jeers of the gang fell silent, replaced by a tense, shocked quiet. Slowly, she adjusted her rings, her hands trembling slightly. Looking down at the pathetic figure sprawled at her feet, she let out a slow, steady breath.

“Talk all you want,” she said, her tone cold and steady. “But trash like you? You'll always end up face-first in the dirt.”