Walking through the streets of Endreas, I tried to ignore the gnawing hunger in my stomach. Every step felt heavier as I reminded myself that I'd eat when I got to the academy. "Just a little longer," I muttered under my breath, clenching my fists as if the act would suppress my appetite. The city bustled around me, the noise and the crowds only amplifying the irritation that came with my hunger.

I kept my eyes forward, focusing on the path ahead, but a sudden shift in the air caught my attention. As I passed by a narrow alleyway, I glimpsed three figures standing in the middle, their voices raised in a heated exchange. Something about the scene felt off, and curiosity got the better of me. I slowed my pace and glanced over my shoulder, peering into the shadowy corridor.

The three boys stood out, not just because of the tension in their voices, but also because of the uniforms they wore. Each of them sported a variation of the Endreas boys' uniform, but with distinct differences that set them apart. The first two were tall, towering over the third by a good twenty centimeters at least. Their uniforms were primarily green and gray, the colors blending seamlessly into the shadowy surroundings of the alley. The taller of the two, a broad-shouldered guy with a pale complexion, had a build that suggested he spent a lot of time in the gym. His hair was short and neatly styled, the dark strands framing a stern face that seemed permanently set in a scowl.

Next to him, the other tall boy had the sharp features and dark eyes typical of someone with West Asian heritage. His skin had a warm olive tone, and his expression was just as intense as his companion's. He held himself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at the third boy with an air of superiority. His uniform was slightly more disheveled than the first boy’s, the green and gray fabric stretched taut over his muscular frame.

But it was the third boy who caught my attention the most. He was much shorter, barely reaching their shoulders, with a slender build that made him look almost fragile in comparison. His uniform was different, blue and white instead of green and gray, and it contrasted sharply with his fair skin and messy blond hair. Despite his smaller stature, there was a fire in his blue eyes, a defiance that made it clear he wasn't about to back down easily.

“C'mon, just hand it over,” the pale boy demanded, his voice carrying a rough edge. He had a thick accent, something from the northern regions, each word clipped and harsh. His companion chimed in, his tone just as forceful but with a smoother, more measured cadence. “We don't have all day, runt. Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

The shorter boy squared his shoulders, his voice steady despite the obvious pressure he was under. “I told you, I’m not giving you anything.” His accent was lighter, European, maybe from one of the central provinces. He sounded almost calm, but there was a tremor of fear beneath his bravado.

I couldn’t help but feel a spark of respect for the kid. He was clearly outmatched, yet here he was, standing his ground against these two bullies. I paused for a moment, my eyes flicking between them as I considered my options. The hunger gnawed at me again, but I pushed it aside. This situation was more important.

The shorter boy, still standing firm despite the towering presence of his aggressors, finally spoke up with a sharp tone. "You Valley High boys think you can push everyone around just because you're bigger?" His words dripped with disdain, the term "Valley High boys" spat out like a curse. It was clear that this wasn’t the first time he’d been in a situation like this.

The taller of the two boys sneered, his voice thick with arrogance. "Listen to this prepster," he said, leaning in closer to the shorter boy. "You really think you can talk to us like that and get away with it?" His companion chuckled, the sound low and menacing, as if he found the whole situation amusing.

The shorter boy’s resolve was impressive. He stood his ground, fists clenched at his sides, eyes blazing with determination. Despite the overwhelming odds, he wasn’t backing down. I felt a surge of pride watching him; his courage reminded me of the kind of resilience that my own father always admired in people.

But the Valley High boys weren’t interested in words anymore. They were done with this little exchange, and it was clear they intended to make their point through force. Without warning, the pale boy shoved the shorter one hard, sending him sprawling to the ground. The boy rolled quickly, springing back to his feet with a speed that suggested he was more than just a bookish type.

“Freezing rain!” he shouted, his voice ringing with the intensity of someone who was far from defeated. With a swift motion, he flung his hands forward, and I watched as ice spikes materialized out of thin air, hurtling toward the two boys. The spikes were sharp, glittering dangerously as they cut through the air, a testament to the boy’s skill in magic.

But as the spikes hit their targets, they shattered into harmless shards, falling to the ground in a useless spray of frost. The Valley High boys laughed, their voices echoing off the alley walls. "How cute," the olive-skinned boy mocked, brushing a few icy fragments off his shoulder. "You really think that’s going to work on us?"

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I stared in disbelief as their skin began to shimmer, catching the faint light filtering into the alley. It was as if their bodies were encased in a second layer of translucent armor, the surface of their skin sparkling and shining. It was no wonder the ice spikes had failed; whatever magic they were using had given them a defense that made them nearly invulnerable.

The pale boy grinned, flexing his arms as if to show off his enchanted skin. "You’re out of your league, prepster. Maybe you should stick to your books and leave the real magic to those of us who know how to use it." His tone was dripping with condescension, but there was a dangerous edge to his words, a warning that the boy's defiance was only going to make things worse for him.

I felt a pang of frustration. The kid had spirit, but he was clearly outmatched. And yet, something held me back from intervening. I wanted to see how this would play out, how far the boy's courage would take him in the face of such overwhelming odds.

As I watched the scene unfold in the alley, a thought gnawed at the back of my mind: "I can’t let them hurt this prepster kid." The term "prepster" was unfamiliar to me, but I figured it must have something to do with his school or background. It didn’t really matter, though. What mattered was that this kid, despite his bravery, was about to be overwhelmed by these Valley High boys. And I couldn't just stand by and let that happen.

Just as the taller of the two Valley High boys took a step forward, clearly ready to end the standoff by force, I decided it was time to act. The kid didn’t see me coming, but I wasn’t about to let them lay another hand on him. Without a second thought, I moved, shoving the prepster aside just as the Valley High boy lunged at him. My body met his with an unyielding force, and I stood there like an immovable wall. The boy slammed into me, hard, but I didn’t budge an inch.

The impact must have surprised him because he stumbled back, the ground beneath him even giving way slightly. He took two more determined steps toward me, each one accompanied by the dull thud of his shoes on the collapsing ground. But I held my ground, staring him down, refusing to be moved. My eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, there was nothing but a tense, silent standoff between us.

The Valley High boy glared at me, his expression twisting into a nasty scowl. He clearly wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone who wasn’t afraid of him. His fists clenched, and I could see the muscles in his jaw tightening as he stared me down. We were close enough that I could hear his breathing, quick and heavy, fueled by anger and the frustration of being stopped so abruptly.

He shot me a dirty look, his eyes narrowed in a way that was meant to intimidate me. But I wasn’t easily shaken, and I held his gaze with a calm, steady stare of my own. I wasn’t looking for a fight, but I wasn’t going to let him think I was afraid of one either. The tension in the air was thick, each of us waiting for the other to make the next move.

“Leave it,” the other Valley High boy said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, almost a growl, but there was an edge of caution in it. He recognized me for what I was—an Endreas student. "It’s time to go. He’s one of them." His words were a warning to his friend, a reminder that they were out of their element here.

The boy in front of me didn’t respond immediately. He kept his eyes locked on mine, his lips curling into a sneer as if he was debating whether or not to push this further. But after a moment, he seemed to think better of it. “We’ll get nothing from this broke boy,” he muttered, the disdain in his voice evident.

With that, he finally broke eye contact, turning away from me with a dismissive shrug. His friend was already starting to walk away, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he followed. The two of them exchanged a few muttered words as they made their way out of the alley, their steps quickening as they headed back toward the direction of their school.

I watched them go, my body still tensed, ready for any sign that they might turn back. But they didn’t. I let out a slow breath, releasing the tension that had built up in my muscles. The prepster kid was still standing behind me, silent and wide-eyed, clearly trying to process what had just happened.

I turned to him, giving him a brief nod. He looked up at me, his expression a mixture of gratitude and confusion. I could tell he wasn’t sure whether to thank me or question why I had gotten involved in the first place. But for now, it didn’t matter. The danger had passed, and I was just glad that he didn’t have to deal with those two alone.

As the Valley High boys disappeared from sight, I turned to the prepster kid, who was still catching his breath. “Why wouldn’t they consider fighting me just because I’m an Endreas kid?” I asked, genuinely curious. Back where I was from, people never shied away from a fight, especially if it was with someone strong.

The prepster’s reaction wasn’t at all what I expected. His eyes widened in sheer terror the moment he processed my words, and before I could say anything else, he jumped back as if I’d just declared I was a bloodthirsty beast. “I-I don’t have any money to give you, but thank you for saving me!” he stammered, his voice trembling. Tears welled up in his eyes, and to my utter confusion, he dropped to his knees in front of me, pleading for mercy like I was about to do something horrible to him. "Please, just let me go!"

My mouth opened, but no words came out. What was he talking about? I hadn’t threatened him or asked for anything. Then I noticed something lying on the ground next to him—his wallet, slightly open with bills of cash peeking out. The sight made the entire situation even more surreal, like I was caught in some strange, comical misunderstanding. Was he actually offering me his wallet, like I was going to mug him?

“Uh…” I glanced at the wallet, then back at the kid who was still on his knees, sobbing as if his life depended on it. This was beyond weird. I’d heard stories of Endreas students having a reputation, but I hadn’t expected something like this. Where I came from, mages were always looking for a fight, but it wasn’t out of fear or malice—it was out of pride, a way to prove yourself and build each other up. It was about respect, not intimidation.

But here? Here, it felt like I was being viewed as some sort of gang member just because of my uniform. It was unsettling, to say the least.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible, “I’m not gonna take your money or anything.” The kid looked up at me with a mixture of disbelief and hope, his tears still glistening on his cheeks. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Really, I’m not here to rob you.”

He blinked, then slowly reached for his wallet, clutching it tightly as if it was his lifeline. I could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out if he could trust me. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded, though he still looked wary. Without another word, he scrambled to his feet and backed away, still clutching the wallet like it was his last possession on earth.

As he hurried off, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting me to change my mind and chase after him, I just stood there, shaking my head in disbelief. What was it about this place? Back home, people fought to prove their strength, to earn respect. But here, it seemed like my mere presence was enough to scare someone half to death.

“Damn, these prepster kids sure are weird,” I muttered to myself as I turned to leave the alley. The whole encounter left me with more questions than answers, and a strange feeling that maybe, just maybe, things in this city weren’t going to be anything like what I was used to.