Matthew's breath hitched as he stared at the glowing screen in front of him. The words burned into his vision, refusing to fade.
[Elliott Gray / Matthew Groff]
[Strength: D]
[Speed: A]
[Intelligence: B]
[Endurance: B]
[Potential: Unreadable]
His mind raced.
[Potential: Unreadable.]
The hell was that supposed to mean?
[Well, well, look at you.] Elliott's voice was smug. [Not bad, huh?]
Matthew ignored him, his fingers twitching at his sides. His stats weren't terrible—but they weren't great either. Strength at D? He barely held his own against Ren. And "Unreadable Potential"? That wasn't normal. That wasn't right.
Elliott scoffed. [Sorry, bud. I'm not a god.]
Matthew exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. The fight was over. The night was settling. But the unease twisting in his gut refused to go away.
He had won.
And yet, somehow, he felt like he had lost.
A man had lost his life for nothing. No one had even checked on him. No one cared. The crowd had already moved on, laughing, as if nothing had happened.
Matthew still felt pain like never before—every inch of his body ached, his muscles screaming in protest. His ribs throbbed, and when he coughed, he tasted iron. He glanced down. Blood.
[Yeah… that's not great.] Elliott muttered. [Try not to die, alright?]
Matthew wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his vision swimming for a moment. He had to stay standing. Had to keep moving.
Matthew hesitated, glancing around. The crowd was still dispersing, some throwing him quick, unreadable looks. Ren was nowhere to be seen, but Matthew knew this wasn't over.
"He'll try again," Ace said, his voice quiet.
Eric let out a small chuckle, unfazed. "Yeah, we know," he said, "And when he does, we'll figure something out."
Matthew exhaled sharply, wincing at the pain in his ribs.
Eric knelt, patting his back. "Now quit being stubborn and get on. You can barely walk."
Matthew frowned but didn't argue. He climbed onto Eric's back, every movement sending another wave of pain through his body.
[This is humiliating.] Elliott grumbled.
"Shut up," Matthew muttered under his breath, resting his forehead against Eric's shoulder. For now, he'd let himself be carried. Because despite everything, he was still alive.
…
When they arrived home, Ellen and Rafaela immediately took charge, tending to Matthew's wounds. His right eye was already swollen shut, and every breath sent sharp stabs of pain through his ribs.
The rest of the walk back had been quiet. Ace hadn't said a word. Not even a joke.
As Rafaela wiped the dried blood from his face, Ace finally broke the silence.
"How did you do that?" His voice was low, controlled. "Where did you learn to move like that?"
Matthew blinked, caught off guard. "Sorry, what?"
"You heard me," Ace said. He wasn't letting this go.
[To be honest, I'm curious about that too.]Elliott chimed in.
Matthew hesitated, then, despite the pain, he smiled.
His mind drifted back—back to late afternoons in a cramped gym, the sound of Mark's frustrated sighs as he tried to teach Matthew taekwondo. Back then, Matthew had been slow, out of shape, always struggling to keep up. He never got good at it. Not really. But now… now it was different.
Matthew turned away, shrugging as if it were nothing. "Eh, I'm just that good," he said casually. "Did it without even thinking."
Ace narrowed his eyes. He clearly wasn't buying it, but before he could press further, Ellen shot him a look.
"Enough questions," she said firmly, dipping a cloth into a bowl of water. "He needs rest."
Ace exhaled sharply but didn't argue. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, still watching Matthew like he was trying to figure him out.
Rafaela worked in silence, dabbing at Matthew's split lip with a featherlight touch. "You're lucky," she murmured. "That could've been worse."
[Could've been worse?]Elliott scoffed. [Lady, I think half my ribs are gone.]
Matthew resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the voice in his head. Instead, he shifted his focus to Ellen, who was now inspecting his side. Her brow furrowed.
"Deep bruising," Ellen muttered. "And possibly a cracked rib."
Matthew winced as she pressed down slightly.
"Yeah. Definitely cracked," he gritted out.
Ace let out a low whistle. "And you still fought like that?"
Matthew smirked. "Like I said—just that good."
Ellen shot him a warning glance. "No more fighting for a while. You need to heal."
Matthew didn't respond. Because they all knew the truth, this wasn't over.
The Earl wouldn't let this stand.
And next time, Matthew might not be so lucky.