TEN VS. ONE

"Come out now; we already know that we are being surrounded," Father said, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable authority. His eyes were sharp, scanning the dark alleyways around us. He stood tall, his posture relaxed but ready, like a coiled spring waiting to snap.

From the shadowed corners of the alley, a low, mocking chuckle echoed. "Oh, it seems that you have keen senses, mister winner," said a man, stepping into the dim moonlight.

He was a guy from the casino earlier, he has a mahawk and his face twisted into a sinister grin. His eyes glinted with malice, and the ugly scar running down his cheek only made his leer more menacing. The sneer on his lips said he wasn't here to play fair.

One by one, more figures emerged from the alleyways around us. The rest of his gang, a group of rough-looking men with leering faces and crude weapons.

They weren't strangers; I recognized them from the casino too. Their eyes gleamed with a predatory light, fixed on the pouch of gold my father had won. Behind us, five more emerged, blocking off any possible escape route. I could see the glint of their drawn swords, their edges catching the flickering torchlight of the nearby buildings.

Father didn't flinch, his gaze steady on the mohawk man. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual.

The mohawk man sneered, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Hehe, give me all the money that you just won earlier," he said, his voice dripping with smug confidence. He gestured lazily toward Father with a flick of his chin, as if expecting compliance without question.

"And what if I said I don't want to?" Father replied, his tone steady, unyielding.

"If you don't do what we ask," the mohawk man continued, drawing a wicked-looking blade from his belt and holding it up for us to see. "Then there's no other choice; we'll take it by force." He grinned wider, a nasty glint in his eyes.

"Can you see this?" He waved the sword in the air, as if showcasing it for an audience. "With that body as skinny as yours, maybe you'll die in just one strike of mine," he added, laughing with a hollow, cruel sound that echoed off the walls.

Father glanced at me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. His eyes were calculating, assessing the situation with a calmness that bordered on eerie. He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper in my ear.

"Will, there are twelve of them, and two are still hiding in the alley behind us." His eyes flickered with a glint of strategy. "Can you take care of those two while I handle these ten?"

"You can take care of ten of them?" I asked, my voice low but tinged with surprise. I knew Father was strong, but this seemed almost reckless.

He gave a slight nod, his gaze never leaving the gang before us. "Don't worry, they're talentless; they're not blessed with affinity in magic or swordsmanship talent. That's why they are here and not fighting on the battlefield," he explained, his tone reassuring but deadly serious. "Don't overdo it on your side either; remember, they're talentless."

"Okay," I replied, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel the adrenaline starting to surge through my veins, heightening my senses.

The mohawk man, oblivious to our whispered conversation, let out an impatient growl. "What are you whispering about? Give the money to me already; if I'm not mistaken, it's 50 gold coins, right?" His eyes gleamed with greed. "Or do you want to show off to your kid and get kicked in the butt instead? Whichever you choose, I'll be happy to accept it. But don't forget that if you choose to fight, your child won't get out of here without a scratch."

"Stop talking already." Father's voice cut through the night like a blade. "I'm fed up with your voice." Without another word, he raised his hand, a focused determination in his eyes as he began to cast a spell.

"Water javelin," Father shouted, his voice echoing with the power of his magic. A spear of water materialized in the air, gleaming under the moonlight as it hurtled toward the mohawk man with terrifying speed.

The man's eyes widened in shock, his bravado vanishing in an instant. He raised his sword in a desperate attempt to deflect the javelin, but it was futile. The water javelin pierced through the sword like it was made of paper, the blade shattering with a sickening crunch. The watery spear stopped just short of the man's chest, poised to pierce his heart.

Father's eyes were cold, unforgiving, as he canceled the spell at the last moment. The water dispersed into droplets, splashing harmlessly to the ground, leaving the mohawk man standing there, pale and trembling. He let out a shuddering breath before his eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The gang stared in shock, their confidence shattered. The men around us shifted uneasily, clearly reconsidering their odds. Yet, despite their fear, they held their ground, driven by either greed or sheer desperation.

"Will, do it," Father said calmly, and I knew that was my cue.

I spun around and dashed toward the alley behind us. The five men stationed there were caught off guard by my sudden movement, their eyes wide as they scrambled to react. They fumbled with their swords, taking defensive stances, but I didn't stop. I needed to get to the two hiding in the shadows first.

"Where are you going, brat?" one of them shouted, his voice cracking with panic. "Don't you dare ignore us!"

Father's voice rang out behind me, steady and commanding. "Water arrow!" I glanced back just in time to see five arrows of water materialize in the air and shoot toward the men blocking my path. The water arrows struck with pinpoint accuracy, hitting the hands holding their swords. They yelped in pain, dropping their weapons as they staggered back, clearing the way for me.

I rushed past them, diving into the alley. My heart raced as I searched the darkness for the two men Father had warned me about. There, in the shadows, I saw them—two men with daggers drawn, their eyes glinting with murderous intent.

I had to act fast. I couldn't let them ambush Father from behind. I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves as I prepared to face them.

But before I could engage, I heard a shout from behind me. I turned just in time to see Father, his back to the remaining gang members. Four of them were closing in, swords raised, ready to strike.

"We got you!" one of them roared, his blade arcing through the air toward Father's unprotected back.

Father's voice was calm, almost serene as he cast another spell. "Water Curtain!" A wall of water erupted behind him, forming a shimmering barrier that blocked the attackers' swords. The men were thrown back by the force of the spell, their expressions stunned as they realized they had been thwarted once again.

The Water Curtain glistened in the dim light, a testament to Father's mastery of magic. It was an intermediate spell, a step above the basic Water Shield. Unlike the Water Shield, which only covered a small area, the Water Curtain spanned a full 180 degrees, providing comprehensive protection.

Relief washed over me as I saw the attackers stumble back, their swords useless against the watery barrier. Father had everything under control, as always. I turned my focus back to the two men in the alley. They wouldn't get the chance to sneak up on us. Not tonight.