Ba Martial Arts School

  The wooden wall shuddered faintly with each distant explosion, dust sifting down from the rafters.

  Denzai Ba leaned toward a narrow crack between the planks and looked out into the courtyard. Firelight flickered across broken tiles and scattered practice weapons. Beyond the gate, something moved through the glow — low and deliberate. Scales caught the light in dull flashes as a lizard-like creature passed, its spine rising and falling with slow breaths. A forked tongue slipped out, tasting the smoke-heavy air.

  It paused near the entrance.

  Head tilting slightly.

  Denzai did not move.

  Behind him, Diwa Saw knelt on the wooden floor, trying to steady his breathing. The tremor in his shoulders betrayed him despite the effort. The incense from the morning’s training still lingered faintly in the hall, mixing strangely with the acrid scent drifting in from outside.

  “We should hide, Head,” Diwa whispered. “Wait for the army.”

  Denzai kept his gaze on the crack in the wall. He had already tried the radios, the emergency line, even the old shortwave set stored in the back office.

  Static.

  “There is no army,” he said quietly. “No one’s coming.”

  The words settled heavily in the space between them.

  His thoughts did not linger on the school. They pushed past it — past the courtyard, past the burning streets — toward one place only.

  Family.

  He straightened and turned to the two students crouched near the weapon rack. Both were pale, but neither looked away from him.

  “If you’re going to find your families,” he said, voice steady, “go now. I won’t stop you.”

  They hesitated only a moment before bowing low.

  “Thank you, Head.”

  They left through the rear entrance, footsteps quick but controlled.

  Diwa rose.

  “I’ll stay,” he said.

  Denzai studied him briefly. The boy had nowhere else to run — that much was clear — but fear had not emptied his eyes.

  “Stay close,” Denzai replied.

  They stepped out into the street.

  The city no longer carried its old shape. Cars burned in uneven clusters; their frames warped by heat. Storefronts had collapsed inward, spilling merchandise and glass across the pavement. Somewhere farther down the road, a scream broke off abruptly, leaving only the crackle of fire and distant gunfire in its place.

  They moved along the walls, keeping low, stepping over debris instead of through it.

  “Head,” Diwa murmured after a moment. “No weapons?”

  Denzai flexed his arms once.

  The air felt sharper against his skin, as if every current carried information. He could sense movement through subtle shifts in pressure and sound — the scrape of claws on brick, the displacement of ash, the faint vibration of something landing out of sight.

  His body felt aligned in a way it hadn’t before.

  “Hands are enough,” he said.

  They turned into a narrower street that funneled into an alley clogged with overturned bins and broken masonry.

  Denzai slowed mid-step.

  Something in the air shifted.

  He dropped without conscious thought.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  A chunk of concrete tore through the space where his head had been and exploded against a car behind him, spraying fragments across the pavement.

  Diwa’s blade slid free in one smooth motion.

  For a breath, the alley went still.

  Then a low sound rolled through the shadows.

  “Ka… ka… ka…”

  The laughter echoed strangely, bouncing off brick and metal until it seemed to come from everywhere at once.

  Denzai rose slowly and stepped back until his shoulder brushed Diwa’s.

  The boy adjusted immediately, covering the opposite angle.

  Good.

  Shapes moved along the upper ledges. A shadow peeled away from a fire escape. Another shifted behind a dumpster near the alley mouth. The scrape of claws against brick carried from somewhere above.

  They weren’t rushing.

  They were circling.

  Testing.

  Denzai rolled his shoulders once, feeling the coil of muscle settle into place. His pulse remained steady despite the narrowing space around them.

  “Be carefully,” he murmured.

  The alley felt tighter now, the smoke thicker, the shadows deeper.

  The laughter came again — closer this time.

  Denzai shifted his weight slightly forward.

  “Left breaks first,” he said in low voice.

  Diwa didn’t ask how he knew.

  The one on the wall tensed.

  Denzai moved before it did.

  He stepped forward — not rushing, not retreating — forcing the nearest creature to commit.

  It lunged low, claws slicing for his thigh.

  He pivoted.

  Not a full dodge — too little space for clean evasion, but enough.

  The claws tore through fabric and skin along his outer leg.

  Heat flared along his thigh.

  He didn’t retreat from it.

  Instead, he stepped inside the creature’s reach.

  His fist drove upward under its jaw.

  Bone met bone with a crack that vibrated through his arm. The creature reeled but did not fall. It twisted unnaturally, spine bending as if it had too many joints.

  A second one dropped from above.

  Denzai felt the shift in air before he saw it.

  He pulled Diwa down by the collar just as claws raked across his back instead of the boy’s neck.

  Fabric split like butter under hot knife. Warm blood started to flow under his shirt.

  Diwa slashed upward, blade catching the descending creature along the ribs. Dark fluid sprayed, but the cut wasn’t deep enough.

  “Move!” Denzai shouted.

  They advanced instead of retreating.

  The first creature recovered quickly, jaws snapping toward Denzai’s shoulder.

  He drove his elbow down across its forearm.

  Something cracked — maybe bone, maybe joint. With a scream it bites down without caring.

  Teeth sank into his forearm.

  Denzai exhaled sharply but didn’t pull away. Instead, he stepped forward again, closing the distance completely, and hooked his fingers into the creature’s eye socket.

  His grip tightened.

  The texture was wet, resistant.

  He twisted.

  The bite loosened with a shriek.

  He shoved the creature backward into the one behind it, using their own momentum to create space.

  “Now!” he yelled.

  Diwa bolted through the opening; the blade held above his head with both hands. Strike down with all of his training and techanic. A strong resistance vibrates to his body through the blade. But it still did the job done.

  The third creature lunged to intercept.

  Denzai leg falter as he searches for stable footing, the earlier cut deeper than he’d allowed.

  With tighten jaws his push forward to welcome the creature.

  The world sharpened.

  Every motion stretched slightly longer than it should have. He saw the angle of the creature’s leap, the imbalance in its landing foot.

  He adjusted mid-stride.

  His shoulder slammed into its ribcage before it could stabilize. They crashed into the dumpster together.

  Metal buckled.

  The creature clawed across his side, tearing flesh. He drove his forehead into its snout, a dull thud.

  Once.

  Twice.

  On the third impact, wet sensation flow down from his forehead with burning pain.

  It staggered.

  Diwa’s blade came in from the side, finally clean — sliding between ribs and angling upward.

  The creature spasmed violently before collapsing.

  The other two regrouped quickly.

  One still blinded on one side. The other bearing a damaged shoulder blade.

  The eerie laugher was no more, only eyes fill with malice.

  They lunged together.

  Denzai stepped into them.

  Not wild.

  Precise.

  He redirected the injured one with a forearm strike, absorbing the impact into his hips instead of his spine. The second clawed across his back again, reopening the earlier wound.

  His breath hitched.

  He caught the attacker’s wrist mid-swing.

  The grip locked like a vice. Bone creaked under the pressure.

  He felt it.

  The creature felt it too.

  For a split second, surprise flashed across its twisted features.

  Denzai twisted sharply, using the broken alignment to throw it sideways into the brick wall. The impact cracked masonry.

  Diwa stumbled as the blinded one charged him.

  The boy blocked high — too high.

  Claws tore across his ribs, by passing his blade.

  He cried out but didn’t drop the blade.

  Denzai stepped between them, taking the next strike across his own shoulder instead of Diwa’s throat.

  He pivoted, dragged the creature off-balance, and drove his knee under the fallen creature spine with full force.

  Something snapped.

  The creature collapsed, twitching.

  The last one stoop unsteadily between broken bricks, back off little by little.

  It studied them — bleeding, breathing hard, still standing.

  Denzai straightened despite the pain in his leg.

  Blood soaked through his clothes now. His arms trembled faintly from strain.

  He took one deliberate step forward.

  The creature jumps half a pace back ward, stumble wobbly.

  It hissed — then leapt sideways up the wall and vanished over the rooftops.

  Silence returned to the alley.

  Only fire crackling in the distance.

  Diwa swayed.

  Denzai caught him before he fell.

  Both of them were bleeding freely now.

  “Head…” Diwa’s voice was thin. “Your wounds….”

  Denzai looked down at his own hands, some wounds starting to close.

  They were shaking slightly — not from fear.

  From exertion.

  “I know,” he said quietly.

  Then his leg gave out.

  They both hit the ground hard.