Part-51

  The girl was ht, and James khat girls like her often faced body-shaming. He himself had once been guilty of such behavior before he learo dis right fr. Once he realized how deeply hurtful it was to be mocked for one's appearance, he stopped participating in such cruelty.

  "Look at those rolls jiggling when she walks," one of the girls snickered, her voice dripping with malibsp; Another boy chimed in, his ughter ced with cruelty. "Yeah, maybe she should y off the donuts for a while." The ringleader, a tall, broad-shouldered boy with a cruel glint in his eyes, joihe chorus of taunts. "Maybe she should just roll away home, wouldn't that be easier, whale?"

  The girl, her eyes overflowing with tears, mumbled under her breath, "Leave me alone."

  James froze, a familiar knot of apprehension tightening in his stomabsp; Memories of his own bullying experiences flooded his mind, the sting of humiliation and fear still fresh. The urge to retreat, to disappear into the shadows, was strong. He wasn't a hero, not yet. He was still healing, his own strength a work in progress.

  But then, something shifted within him.

  Taking a deep breath, James stepped out from behind the trees. His voice, though shaky at first, rang out with a newfound authority. "Hey! Leave her alone."

  The ughter died dotly, repced by a tense silehe bullies turo face him, their expressions a mix of surprise and annoyanbsp; The leader, a tall, broad-shouldered boy with a sched on his face, took a menag step forward.

  "Who are you, pipsqueak?" he snarled, his voice dripping with dession.

  James met his gaze, his held high. "It doesn't matter who I am," he said, his voice gaining strength with each word. "Just leave her alone."

  A shrill ugh ripped through the tense sile was the bully girl, her voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Why are you stig up for her, shrimp? You got a thing for chubby chicks?"

  James' face flushed with a surge of anger. He ched his fists, the urge to sh out a primal rea. But then, he remembered the martial arts book, its emphasis on trol and strategy. He forced himself to take a deep breath, his aransf into a steely resolve.

  Just as he opened his mouth to respond, a stinging sp jolted him sideways. One of the male bullies, a wiry kid with a shaved head, had lunged forward, a cruel smirk twisting his features.

  A wave of nausea washed over James, a cocktail of anger and humiliation ing in his stomach.

  "Yeah, what are you gonna do about it, shrimp?" the bully sneered, puffing out his chest.

  One of the girls cackled, a harsh sound that grated on James' nerves. "Looks like he's all talk and no a. Just another me- to be a hero."

  But before James could retort, a new element intruded upon the se. A translut blue s materialized in the air, h between James and the bullies, its stark letters cutting through the fading light.

  [Mission 10: Beat the crap out of these bullies.]

  [Reward: Snake Jab (Finger Jab) - A precise and powerful firike targeting pressure points.]

  [Penalty: You will get attacked by their seniors.]

  James blinked, momentarily stunned by the ued notificatiohem up? The System, ever-maniputive, was dangling a reward – the "Snake Jab" teique he'd briefly gnced over in the martial arts book – in exge faging in violence. But the penalty loomed rge: a potential retaliation from their seniors, figures likely far more powerful than the current group.