A/N: The kid is under genjutsu if you think why isn't he being more expressive and just doing what he is saying.
Enjoy:)
….
Madara watched as the group of teenagers closed in, their faces twisted into exaggerated sneers and mocking grins.
Their expressions were so over-the-top, almost comical, that Madara found it faintly amusing.
The way they contorted their mouths and squinted their eyes, trying to look intimidating, was laughable to someone who had faced true monsters and warriors. His crimson gaze remained steady, unfazed by their childish display.
These were no ordinary teens—they were part of a delinquent gang known as the Red Ogre, a group notorious in Yuuya's school.
They thrived on bullying the weak, targeting those who couldn't fight back.
Yuuya, with his timid nature and unappealing appearance, was their favorite victim, with the request from Yuuya brother and sister.
The delinquent group reveled in making his lives miserable, using their numbers and cruelty to dominate anyone they deemed inferior.
The blond leader strutted forward, his slicked-back hair gleaming under the streetlights. "Look at this pig," he sneered, his voice loud and taunting.
"Yuuya, you're so fat you're blocking the whole street!" His gang laughed, egging him on. Then his eyes flicked to Madara, who stood calmly beside Yuuya.
"And who's this guy? Your babysitter? What's with the weird clothes, old man? You look like you crawled out of a history book!" The others snickered, throwing in their own insults.
"Yeah, what's with the creepy eyes? You some kind of wannabe tough guy?"
Madara didn't react. Their words were nothing to him—empty noise from insignificant pests. He stood there, his arms crossed, his expression one of mild boredom.
If they thought their weak taunts could rattle him, they were gravely mistaken. He had faced gods and demons; a handful of loud-mouthed kids were less than nothing.
The blond leader, unimpressed by Yuuya's silence, stepped closer to the boy. He slung an arm around Yuuya's shoulder, his grip tight and mocking.
"Alright, pig," he said, his voice dripping with fake sweetness. "You've ruined our day just by existing. That's mental damage, you know? So, hand over some cash to make up for it. Now."
Yuuya froze, his face pale, his hands trembling at his sides. He didn't speak or move, his eyes fixed on the ground. The blond's smirk faltered, irritation flashing across his face.
"What, you deaf now?" he snapped. Without warning, he swung his fist, aiming a quick punch at Yuuya's stomach.
The blow landed with a dull thud, but Yuuya didn't flinch. He stood there, unmoved, as if the punch had been nothing more than a tap. The blond blinked, confused.
For a moment, he wondered if he had missed. Frowning, he pulled back and threw another punch, harder this time, straight into Yuuya's gut.
Again, it did nothing. Yuuya remained still, his expression unchanged, not even a gasp escaping his lips.
Unbeknownst to the blond punk, Yuuya was no longer the weak, defenseless boy he used to be. Through his system, Yuuya had recently defeated a powerful bull-like magical beast, a creature far stronger than anything these delinquents could imagine.
The victory had caused him to level up, boosting his strength and endurance to extraordinary levels. His body was now far tougher than any normal human's, capable of shrugging off blows that would have left others doubled over in pain.
Madara's eyes narrowed slightly, catching the subtle shift in Yuuya's demeanor. He hadn't expected the boy to withstand the punches so easily. But again he was an abnormal boy who happened to have a dimensional gate in his house, so this was the least of his concerns.
Madara let out a quiet sigh, his patience wearing thin at the pathetic display before him. The blond punk's failed punches and the gang's empty taunts were a waste of his time.
He had seen enough of this nonsense. His mind shifted to more pressing matters—he needed to return to the other world through the gate, deliver the goblin reconnaissance information to the Adventurer's Guild, and check on the children he had left at the inn.
This world was fascinating, but he had responsibilities to attend to.
He turned to Yuuya, who stood frozen, still shaken from the punches that had done nothing to him.
"Kid," Madara said, his voice sharp and commanding, "start walking. We're going back to the house." He gestured toward the road, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll see more of this world on the way."
Yuuya nodded quickly, his round face pale but obedient, and began to move. Madara followed, his eyes scanning the surroundings, taking in the strange sights of this modern world—the towering buildings, the glowing screens, the carefree people.
But before they could get far, the Red Ogre gang stepped forward, spreading out to block the entire street. Their sneers and mocking expressions returned, as if they hadn't noticed the shift in the air.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" the blond leader barked, his voice laced with arrogance. His gang chimed in, their taunts echoing.
"Yeah, you and this fat pig think you can just walk away?" one said, laughing. "What's with you, old man? You think you're tough or something?" another jeered, pointing at Madara's borrowed clothes.
Madara's expression remained cold, his crimson eyes glinting with quiet disdain. Their words were meaningless, like the buzzing of flies.
But then, one of the gang members—a lanky teen with green hair—stepped forward, gripping a baseball bat.
The blond snatched it from him, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Without warning, he swung the bat with full force, aiming straight for Madara's head.
Madara didn't even glance at the attack. His hand shot up, catching the bat mid-swing with ease.
The metal groaned under his grip, and with a casual twist of his wrist, he bent it into a useless, warped shape. The bat clattered to the ground, deformed beyond recognition.
The blond's jaw dropped. "What the hell?!" he swore, his voice cracking with disbelief. The others froze, their mocking laughter dying in their throats.
"Did you see that?!" one stammered. "He just… bent it!" another whispered, eyes wide. But instead of backing down, their pride—or stupidity—pushed them forward.
Like brainless thugs, they shouted curses and threats, their faces twisting into aggressive snarls.
"You're dead, man!" one yelled. "We're gonna mess you up!" another added, clenching his fists.
Madara's patience snapped. He had given them plenty of chances to walk away, especially since he was in a rare good mood after glimpsing true peace in this world. But they had chosen to test him. That was their mistake.
In an instant, he vanished from his spot. The gang blinked, confused, their eyes darting around. Before they could react, Madara reappeared behind the blond leader.
His hand shot out, grabbing the punk's head with an iron grip. With a single, brutal motion, he slammed the blond's face into the concrete road.
The impact was deafening, a sickening crunch echoing through the street. Blood sprayed across the pavement, splattering Madara's hands and the borrowed clothes he wore.
The blond's face was flattened against the ground, his body limp, his life snuffed out in a heartbeat.
The remaining gang members—five teens with their brightly colored hair—stood frozen, their faces pale with horror.
What they had just witnessed was something straight out of a nightmare, a scene they had only seen in the goriest horror movies. Their leader, the untouchable blond, was dead, his blood pooling beneath him.
They wanted to scream, to run, but their legs wouldn't move. And deep down, they knew they wouldn't live long enough to carry this memory.
Madara straightened, his bloodied hand flexing as he turned his cold gaze to the others. One blond was dead. A few colorful-haired punks remained. Their fate was sealed.