???? ????? ?????? ?? ??? ??????? ?????? ?????? ???????? ??????? ??? ????? "????? ???????".

  ??? "????? ?? ????? ?????? ??????? ???????" ?? ?????? ??????? ????? ???????? ?? ???? ??????. ???? ??????? ??? ???? ????? ??? ?????????? ????? ??????? ??????. ???? ???? ????? ??????? ??????? ??????? ?????? ??? ????? ?? ????? ?????? ??????? ?????? ?? ???? ???????.

  "???? ??? ??? ????? ?? ?????? ???????..." ???? ????? ??? ????.

  ??????? ??? ??? ?????? ???? ??? ??? ?????? ??????.

  ???? ????.

  ??? ?????? ????? ???????? ????? ????? ?? "???????". ??? ?????? ??????? ?????? ?????? ???????. ?? ?????? ?? ???????? ????? ???? ?? ???? ???? ????? ?????? ?????? ???? ????? ?????? ??????.

  ????? ?????? ??????? ?????? ?????? ??? ??????.

  ??? ????? ?????? ?????? ????? ??? ??????? ??????? ????????? ???? ????? ?????? ??????? ??? ?????? ??????? ???? ??????? ???? ????? ???? ???? ????? ???? ??? ???? ???? ??????? ?????? ????????.

  ?? ??? ????? ?????? ?????????? ?? ?????? ?????? ???? ??? ??????. ??? ????? ??????? ?????? ??????? ?? ????? ????????? ????? ????? ???? ????? "????".

  ????? "?????" ?? ?????? ?? ?????? ???????? ??? ??????? ??? ??????? ??????? ?????? ??? ??????? ??????? ???? ???? ??????.

  ??? ????? ?????? ??? ???? ????? ??? ?????: "????? ?????? ?????"

  ???? ??? ?????? ?? ?????? ???? ??? ????? ????? ?? ??? ??? ????? ??? ?????.

  ??? ?????? ???? ???? ???????: "??? ?? ??????".

  ??? ????? ????? ?????: "???? ??? ????? ???? ?????? ???????. ???? ??? ?????? ?? ??? ????? ??????."

  ????? ?????? ????? ??????? ?? ??? ???? ????? ?? ?????? ??? ?? ???? ?????: "????? ??? ????? ???????".

  "??????" ??? ?????? ??? ????? ????? ?????? ?? ??????.

  "?? ????." ?? ?????? ????? ???? ??? ???? ?????? ??? ???? ????????? ????? ??? ??? ??? ???? ?????? ?????.

  ???? ???? ??? ???? ??????? ???? ????? ??? ??? ???? ????????? ????? ???? ???????. ??? ????? ????: "?? ????? ???? ???? ???????? ?????? ?????? ????? ?????? ??????"

  ???? ?????? ?????? ????? ??????? ?????? ?? ??? ???????? ??????? ???????. "????? ???."

  ??? "?????". ??? ??? ????? ??????? ?? ??? ?????? ???????? ??????? ???????? ???????? ?? ??? ????? ?????.

  ????!!

  ??? ??????? ????? ??????? ?? ????? ?????? ?? ??????.

  "Is he still going?" The first student looked at the door while continuing to chew.

  "He arrived late." His friend began to remove the ice pack, lifting a finger. With a glacial ability, the water inside the bag began to freeze, turning back into ice, before he placed it back on his eye.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "Who?" the boy asked, smiling with curiosity.

  "A boy with black fingernails..." the student nodded toward the door.

  "Do you call those fingernails? Those are claws!" his friend corrected him irritably.

  "Claws or fingernails, no difference. The important thing is they are black," the student replied, standing up to dust off his trousers.

  "Claws, huh?" The boy smiled widely as he ran toward the entrance, but he stopped abruptly before touching the handle.

  The restaurant door opened very slowly... the sound of choked hinges flowed through the air as if groaning.

  A hand with a strange texture extended outward; its skin first appeared rock-hard, cracking with a faint light emitting from its pores, then gradually returned to a pale... sickly... unhealthy color, as if life was leaving it and then returning. The small wounds filling the forearm vanished before the eyes, scabbing over, then disappearing as if they never existed, leaving the skin clear despite the long, sharp black fingernails.

  Then his face appeared... features tense, clear annoyance etched on his clenched jaw. His eyes were yellow, the color of a predator, with vertical pupils like a reptile seeking light. His gaze was piercing... fierce... boding nothing good for anyone who met it.

  He pushed the door with his body and took a single step out. Drops of dark red liquid dripped from his hand, glistening on the cold pavement. He was gripping a battered young man tightly, dragging him behind, then threw him outside like annoying trash. He turned for a moment... then went back inside the restaurant, leaving the door swinging behind him with an annoying creak.

  The boy stood in place, smiling that half-smile fascinated by a challenge. He continued his walk to the entrance, passing by the bloody young man lying on the ground. He didn't need to open the door because it hadn't closed completely.

  The students outside looked at the bloody young man. "I don't know, should I be happy he got hurt, or happy I got my meal before that guy came?" one student said to his friend.

  "Both. Now, should we check his pulse?" his friend replied.

  "He's alive, don't worry... probably."

  When the boy with the red streak entered the restaurant, the atmosphere inside was... quieter... much quieter than he expected.

  At a table in the center, "The Boy with the Scar" sat, tapping his finger on the table in a monotonous, provoking rhythm. Meanwhile, the sounds of cooking from the kitchen were loud and tense.

  "Faster! Just one meal and we leave!" a man (the Assistant restaurant manager) screamed at the staff as he frantically pulled drinks from a box on the floor.

  "Which one do you prefer, sir?" The man smiled a professional smile that trembled with nervousness as he looked at the boy with the scar.

  "Natural juice," the boy with the scar replied coldly, continuing to tap on the table.

  "But we don't..." The man tried to look at the staff in the back, but they shook their heads in firm denial.

  "Then shut up and prepare the meal!" the boy with the scar suddenly growled, slamming his fist on the table, making the dishes rattle.

  The man gasped in terror, nodded quickly, and stumbled as he ran to the kitchen.

  At that moment, the tapping stopped. The boy with the scar slowly looked toward the entrance where the boy with the black hair and red streak stood.

  "Another insect wants to annoy me." The boy with the scar stood up slowly and began to walk confidently toward the boy, who was smiling and stepping forward as well.

  The boy with the scar lunged suddenly, extending his hand. The boy with the red streak smiled, waiting to be punched so he could absorb the blow as usual.

  But the boy with the scar didn't try to punch him. Instead, he grabbed his neck with lightning speed, beginning to choke him while lifting him off the ground with one hand.

  "Your smile made me think you had a passive defense, or that your body was special, or even that you were protected by determinism, but hah? Just an arrogant brat, not strong..." said the boy with the scar in a raspy voice, then narrowed his yellow eyes. "Still smiling?.. Do I understand you have something else?"

  The boy with the red streak spoke with difficulty, the smile never leaving his face: "In the hands of my opponent... it is not a prison... but a gold mine for energy!"

  The boy felt the energy flowing from his opponent's grip into him with every increase in pressure. He gathered it, then released all that energy in a violent tremor, breaking free as the boy with the scar was propelled away by the force of the kinetic explosion.

  The boy stood up, holding his neck and coughing. "You're not the first to do that, and you won't be the last." The boy with the red streak grabbed a metal chair, ready to throw it, but the boy with the scar didn't fall to the ground from the previous push as expected. Instead, he regained his balance immediately and started walking toward him again.

  "Not a repulsion force... it requires the opponent to touch you to activate," the boy with the scar analyzed the situation coldly. "Let's see, little one, to what extent you will make me transform!"

  The boy with the scar jumped, pouncing again.

  "Same result!" the boy with the red streak shouted confidently.

  The boy with the scar punched the face of the boy with the red streak. The sound of bone was audible, but the moment he received the punch, the boy's smile widened. He immediately punched the boy with the scar back, pushing him using the absorbed energy of the blow. But the boy with the scar was only pushed half a step back.

  Then he punched the boy with the red streak again, with a force that made his teeth rattle. The boy with the red streak didn't waste a moment; right after the hit, he punched the boy with the scar back with double the force.

  But this time, the boy with the scar didn't move a single step. He stood his ground and smiled, revealing sharp teeth.

  "Have you heard that poison kills its owner?" the boy with the scar said, watching the blood fly from the broken hand of the boy with the red streak.

  The boy smiled, holding his trembling hand. "Do I understand you have a similar ability?"

  "I don't know about your ability," the boy with the scar replied, advancing quickly, ready for another punch. "Did you say something about a gift? Every successful attack... is a gift to me. A gift of permanent immunity!"

  The boy with the scar punched the face of the boy with the red streak hard, shoving him backward. The bandage on his face itched maddeningly as his nose bled profusely.

  But the boy ran and jumped. Instead of punching, he stomped his foot on the ground next to the boy with the scar, who was preparing to punch him again. The boy with the red streak formed a ground shockwave that pushed the boy with the scar and threw him off balance, then he stomped on him as he began to stumble.

  "Just one strong hit is enough!" the boy shouted, smiling, blood leaking from his nose and staining the bandage.

  "We shall see!" the boy with the scar screamed, raising his hand and straightening it like a sword.

  There were no claws, no spear, but his fingers suddenly became transparent and sharp as invisible blades. He thrust them with insane speed toward the chest of the boy with the red streak.

  The boy smiled in the face of death.

  A blinding white light exploded from his chest, not like a burning flame, but like a small flashbang that blinded the eyes of the boy with the scar for a single moment. That moment was enough.

  Then... The Side Thrust.

  He converted part of the collision energy stored inside his body into a violent propelling force from his left side, pushing himself away from the path of the killing hand. The shift was slight, just a few centimeters, but it was enough to change the point of impact.

  The transparent hand pierced his body, but it missed the heart. It pierced his right side, causing sharp pain like an electric shock. He felt the warm blood flowing over his skin before he even hit the ground.

  But he didn't collapse.

  Instead, he used the remaining energy, the energy of the hand stab itself, and turned it into a reaction.

  "Thanks for the energy."

  ?????? ???? ???? ????? ?? ???? ??????? ?????? ??? ??? ????? ???? ????? ?? ?????? ??? ?????? ??? ?????? ??? ????? ?? ???? ?? ??? ????? ??????? ?????.

  ??? ????? ?? ???? ?????? ??? ??????? ????? ??????? ??????? ???? ?????? ?? ?????? ??? ????? ????? ?? ?????? ??????? ???? ??????.

  ??? ??????? ????? ???? ?????... ??? ??? ????? ?? ?????? ????? ????? ???? ???? ???? ??? ????? ??????? ?????? ?????? ???? ???? ???????.