The alley was a mess. A complete mess.

  One could see broken bricks, shattered pavement, and the aftermath of absolute chaos.

  The cowboy—who had just been some mysterious guy with a gun a moment ago—was now dodging the bull-man’s attacks with almost unnatural precision.

  Each dodge sent the bull-man’s fists slamming into the walls and pavement, leaving craters in solid stone.

  The ground shook beneath them, and Elion was half-convinced that the entire block was going to come crashing down.

  'Please don't let that happen,' Elion prayed silently. It would be too much of a mess if that really happened.

  Jordan, on the other hand?

  He wasn’t just watching. He was analyzing.

  Elion knew that expression on Jordan’s face all too well. It was the same look he had when studying a pro player’s movement in a high-stakes soccer match. The gears in his head were turning, processing every move, every counter, every mistake.

  Elion clenched his fists. He knew well what Jordan was thinking. Jordan wanted to know how to fight these beast-men, how to deal with them, and how to... win.

  For what purpose?

  'Don't tell me he wants to go beast hunting.' That was the only thing that Elion could think of.

  It was insane—this whole night had been insane—but Elion was wondering. 'Where the heck is the police?!'

  Jordan was thrilled. "This... is crazy," he said with a smile. A really excited smile.

  This was everything he had ever wanted to experience in life. The impossible. The supernatural. The kind of stuff people only read about in books or watched in movies.

  Elion, meanwhile? Maybe he would be okay without the part where their lives were on the line.

  The bull-man let out a loud snort. He lowered his head, and that was not a good sign. He was ready for another charge.

  But something about him felt... different. Unlike the bear-man, this one wasn’t just blindly attacking.

  His movements were controlled. Calculated. Each strike wasn’t random—it was targeted.

  Elion’s blood ran cold as he asked, “He’s able to think?”

  “Yeah. Seems like it.” Jordan must’ve realized it, too. “He’s not the same as the bear-man,” he muttered. “He’s calculating his next move.”

  That was when the bull-man spoke.

  “Ronan Cross..." He said in a rough voice, a voice that suited a bull-man. "You… are not supposed to meddle with the Lord’s plan.”

  Elion’s brain short-circuited. ‘Ronan Cross? Is it the cowboy's name?’

  "So he has a name. Ronan, huh?" Jordan said as if he could do something just by knowing the other person's name.

  Well, Elion did not really know if Jordan really could do something. As of now, he was full of surprises.

  Ronan barely reacted, casually rolling his shoulders as he dodged another pavement-cracking punch. “Tch. Figures you’d ruin the mystery,” he muttered.

  The bull-man snorted angrily, stepping forward. His hooves scraped against the pavement, and his massive arms tensed.

  “You’re making a mistake for going against the Lord,” he growled. “You still have time to return to your world.”

  Ronan let out a slow, almost bored sigh. “Lord?” he repeated mockingly. “What a bullshit title.”

  Elion saw the shift in Ronan’s stance. Up until now, the cowboy had just been dodging, keeping his movements minimal.

  But now?

  His ring—the same—yet better kind of ring as the ones the bear-man and the bull-man had—began to glow brightly. Too bright.

  It was the same black-gold hue from before, but now it pulsed with something dangerous. Ronan’s lips curled into a lazy, mocking smirk.

  "He’s no Lord," Ronan muttered, rolling his shoulders.

  "He’s just using the wrong power at the wrong place. And you..." His ring flared. His voice dropped, colder than before. "You’re just another fool who believed him."

  The bull-man snorted, nostrils flaring. His hooves scraped against the pavement, muscles coiling like a drawn bowstring.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Then they moved.

  One moment, they were standing still. The next, the alley exploded into chaos.

  Ronan dodged left just as the bull-man’s fist came crashing down, sending cracks splintering across the pavement where he had stood a split second before.

  The cowboy twisted, his movements sharp and calculated, but the bull-man was already reacting, shifting his massive frame with shocking speed.

  The bull-man was faster than the bear-man and stronger. He was more in control. His horns shone under the dim alley lights as he charged forward.

  BOOM.

  Ronan had little time to react. He crossed his arms to block the impact, which caused him to skid backward, his boots scraping against the ground. The force hit him hard, but he steadied himself and absorbed the blow.

  "Over here, Elion!" Jordan shouted hurriedly for them to take cover. They then ducked behind a half-destroyed dumpster, watching the fight unfold.

  "What are we seeing? This is crazy," Elion whispered, feeling his heart race.

  "Yeah," Jordan laughed softly but winced as he touched his ribs. "And I think I have broken ribs, so that's great."

  Elion glanced at him. "Wait, are you serious?"

  Jordan just grinned, even as his face twisted in pain. "What, you thought getting punched by a bear-man felt like a pillow fight?"

  Before Elion could respond, Ronan countered. This time, something strange happened to his right arm. It was similar to a gorilla’s.

  “He’s the same?” Jordan blurted.

  Now, things were getting crazier. The cowboy, Ronan, could transform, too?

  Both Elion and Jordan now wondered whether they would make it out alive or not tonight.

  Ronan’s gorilla-like arm—or whatever it was—swung forward with brutal force, catching the bull-man across the jaw. The bear-man staggered, hooves scraping against the broken pavement.

  But instead of stumbling, he grinned.

  "What’s the matter, Ronan?" he sneered, cracking his neck. "Can’t even deal with a low-level like me?"

  Ronan gritted his teeth. Something in those words hit deeper than it should have.

  Elion noticed the flicker in the cowboy’s expression—just a moment of frustration buried quickly behind his usual bored demeanor.

  "If it wasn’t for this world," Ronan muttered under his breath. "If it wasn’t for that damn incident..."

  His fingers twitched. His stance shifted.

  Elion felt it before he saw it. Something changed.

  Ronan’s ring pulsed brighter, hotter. Then he lunged. Now, both of his arms had changed into a gorilla’s. They began moving faster.

  What had started as powerful, deliberate strikes turned into a storm of rapid blows. Each punch slammed into the bull-man like a wrecking ball.

  Elion could barely keep up with what he was seeing. The speed. The power. It was like watching a hurricane give form and fists.

  Jordan, despite his pain, whistled. "Man’s got hands."

  Elion let out a breath. "No kidding."

  But the bull-man wasn’t going down easy. Even as Ronan pummeled him with relentless force, he held his ground. His body absorbed the blows, muscles tightening, resisting the force behind them. And then he fought back.

  The bull-man let out a snarl and caught Ronan’s wrist mid-strike. Ronan’s eyes narrowed in that split second before a savage knee drove into Ronan’s abdomen.

  The impact was so strong that it created shockwaves in the air.

  Ronan grunted as he was thrown backward, crashing into some debris. He groaned and sat up slowly, spitting blood onto the ground.

  "Okay," he said, wiping his mouth. "You're really annoying me now."

  Elion and Jordan looked at each other when they heard that.

  Jordan grinned through the pain. "Think he’s getting serious now?"

  Elion let out a nervous chuckle. "I really hope not. Because if this isn’t serious, I don’t wanna see what is."

  Ronan stood, rolling his shoulders. His ring flared one last time. "Playtime’s over," he muttered. Then he dropped into a stance. His ring glowed brighter.

  The alley trembled.

  The air rippled.

  And this time, when Ronan moved—he didn’t just punch.

  He destroyed.

  His gorilla-like arms slammed into the bull-man with such force that the shockwave alone sent dust and debris flying outward.

  BOOM!

  The bull-man froze—his massive body lifting off the ground, his feet leaving the pavement. His eyes went wide. Then, he was sent flying.

  Not stumbling. Not reeling.

  A flying bull.

  He crashed into the farthest wall with bone-crushing force, the impact shattering the bricks around him.

  For a moment, everything was quiet.

  Jordan and Elion gawked. How on earth could a human deliver such attacks?

  Jordan exhaled sharply. "That... was... insane."

  Elion barely managed to nod, his brain still processing what just happened. He looked at Jordan, who was looking at him, too.

  They exchanged glances and shared the same thoughts. What in the world were they watching?

  Ronan, meanwhile, cracked his knuckles, his usual lazy expression returning as he dusted off his cloak.

  That was when he turned, seemingly remembering something. He glanced at the alley floor—where hundreds of rings lay scattered. His expression shifted.

  “Damn it… I forgot.”

  And right then—the rings trembled.

  Elion and Jordan could feel something was amiss. A weird pull in the air, like the moment before a storm hits. Their hearts skipped a beat.

  Jordan tensed, shoulders locking up as his fists curled. Despite the pain, he was ready for anything that was coming.

  The cowboy grimaced. “Ah, hell.”

  Then—the rings started rising.

  One by one, like they had been yanked by invisible strings, they shot into the air—spiraling upwards, scattering like fireworks launching into the sky.

  Elion and Jordan froze, watching dozens—hundreds—or more rings scatter toward who knew where.

  Elion felt a chill down his spine. “That’s not a good thing, right?”

  Jordan’s voice was quiet. “Not even a little.”

  Ronan sighed and rubbed his temple as he watched the last of the rings fade into the night. He then put his hands in his coat pockets and let out another sigh, treating it like just another day.

  “What a bad day…”

  Elion’s eye twitched. “What happened?!” he raised his voice because he knew that the rings' disappearance would spell more trouble.

  The cowboy turned back to them, completely unbothered. “I think that’s going to be a problem.”

  Elion gestured wildly at the now-empty ground where more than hundreds of potentially cursed rings had just flown off into the world. “YOU THINK?!”

  Ronan shrugged. “Not my fault. That’s on you two.”

  Jordan blinked. “Wait, how is that our fault?”

  Ronan pointed at Jordan. “You chased them.”

  Then he pointed at Elion. “You distracted me.”

  Elion clenched his jaw. “Are you actually blaming us for—”

  Ronan cut him off with a wave. “Doesn’t matter. They’re gone. Someone’s gonna find them. Then we’ll have more of these idiots running around.” He gestured lazily toward the unconscious bull-man.

  Jordan’s expression hardened. “And what exactly are they?”

  Ronan gave him a long look. “They’re…. Uh. Never mind.”

  For a second, he almost answered.

  Then, just as quickly—he turned away.

  “Too much for you to handle,” he said simply. Then, stepping over the rubble, he walked toward the bull-man’s fallen body.