The jagged blade should've cut him. It didn't.
It scraped past his cheek — barely — as Ayo moved at exactly the right moment, almost like something told him to, almost instinctively.
He shifted slightly to the left, his hand outstretched in the same direction for some reason.
The kind of reaction that shouldn't have been thought through. And yet it worked.
The cultist blinked, pausing for a fraction of a second.
Ayo's hand 'coincidentally' landed on the earlier stool, and he swung it upwards without hesitation.
*Crunch.
It connected with the assailant's shoulder.
The guy yelped, feeling the immense pain of a broken bone, but Ayo didn't wait.
He stepped in and drove his own shoulder into the cultist's chest, sending him stumbling backward into a table that collapsed under their combined weight.
Femi was still down, coughing. Ayo didn't check — he already knew the second guy was coming. From the right. He ducked at the right moment, as a bottle whizzed over his head and shattered against the wall behind him.
The second attacker swung wild again, missing by inches, without even a single move from Ayo. He tripped on some spilled beer, leaning forward uncontrollably.
Ayo cocked his fist, unleashing up to 200 kg of force unto the guy's lower abdomen.
He dropped, gagging, and out cold in seconds.
Ayo's breath was shallow, his pupils narrowed. Adrenaline – and something else – toned the sound of people screaming and bottles falling to the floor. The only thing he could 'see' was… chances.
He could feel it. He could feel that he had the ability to shift the course of events.
It was like an instinct. No need to think too much about it. Just use it.
Ayo's pupils narrowed.
What mattered, and what didn't, was in his hands.
"AYO!" Femi's voice rasped from behind, struggling to get up.
The third guy was closing in now — the one with the scarf.
He was bigger and stronger than the others. His hands adorned with knuckledusters that he got from God-knows-where, and yelling.
"I don mark your face!"(Meaning is closer to 'I recognize you', but it means 'You're in my black-list')[A/N: Don't ask how.]
Even though his underlings had been downed, he still looked confident… And brutal. Rage rippling through his features.
Ayo's body tensed with awareness.
He didn't know what he was doing. But he knew what not to do.
And sometimes, that was all it took.
Scarf guy threw a punch. It should've landed. It didn't.
Ayo leaned back just enough. A single inch made the difference.
Before his opponent could rebalance himself, he pushed his fist into his ribs.
Scarf guy grunted, stepped back, and stepped forward again with another swing.
This one grazed Ayo's jaw.
Pain bloomed.
He didn't back up.
He let the momentum carry him sideways twisted the hand holding the chair, as it fell off inexplicably and left its leg in his hands— then let go of everything and snapped the broken chair leg against Scar-face's shin.
*BAM!
The man howled.
Ayo reached out with his other hand.
Elbow to temple.
Scar-face staggered from the impact, still trying to regain his bearings.
Another blow to the jaw with the chair leg sealed the deal, both for Scarface and for the leg, as it broke into two.
*Thud
Scar-face fell. Not out cold. But out of the fight, blinking through blood and a lasting concussion.
Ayo stood there, chest rising and falling.
The music had long since cut.
People were pressed to the walls, wide-eyed. Some recording, some frozen, some already gone from the hall. Nobody moved to help.
Then a shout broke the ice:
"Let's go! Police fit show any moment!"
A scramble began. Everyone rushed. Ayo didn't join. He walked to Femi and helped him up.
"You good?" he asked, breath still shallow.
Femi grimaced, wiping his mouth. "I'll live. You... what the hell was that?"
Ayo didn't answer.
He looked at the blood on his hand.
Not his.
He looked at the three bodies.
Still breathing. Not moving.
He'd never fought like that. He'd barely fought anybody, being one hell of a pacifist.
But what happened today wasn't just fighting.
He'd felt and done something way more complicated. Even now, he felt that sensation of power
Like consequences could be… tilted. Just a little.
People were still leaving.
The girl in peach was gone.
Sirens echoed in the distance.
Ayo stared at the cracked speaker beside him, the spilled drinks, the blood smeared on the tiled floor.
He didn't feel like a hero.
He didn't feel like a monster either.
But he had gained something.
And it wasn't just bruises.