As Lumia and Lock walked on, the massive mess hall came into view.
It was always overflowing with people.
Every soldier in this district ate here. The food was bland and crude, but in times like these, having anything to eat at all was something to be grateful for.
As they reached the entrance, the noise was louder than usual.
It wasn’t just chatter—there were cheers, and even screams mixed in.
Something’s happened.
Lumia felt it instantly.
They stepped inside. The cause of the commotion was obvious at a glance.
Near the center of the hall, a circle had formed where people had cleared out.
At its center stood a single man.
At his feet, four others lay sprawled on the ground, bleeding.
“…That’s Toga.”
Lock muttered beside her.
Toga.
She had heard the name before. A recent recruit, if she remembered correctly.
But rumors about him had spread quickly—because of how abnormal he was.
“What happened?”
Lumia asked a nearby soldier.
“Hell if I know. Guess they bumped shoulders or something. Then—bam. That’s what happened. Guy’s insane.”
Toga let out a grating laugh as he grabbed one of the men by the collar and lifted him.
With just one hand, the large man’s body rose effortlessly into the air.
“P-please… just let me go…”
“Heh… sorry. I’m a sadist, you see. When people say stuff like that… it just makes me wanna hit ’em more.”
He spoke with genuine delight as he clenched his fist.
Lumia grabbed it.
“…Huh?”
“Enough already.”
She glared up at him from far below.
He was slender, unnaturally tall, with sharp, predatory eyes.
Like a snake, she thought.
“What are you, huh? I ain’t no feminist. Being a woman won’t save you.”
“I wasn’t talking about that. You’re ruining the meal. Can’t you keep quiet?”
Toga smirked again and easily shook her hand off.
“Heh… cute face, interesting girl. Hitting women ain’t so bad either. I won’t hold back.”
He tossed the man he had been holding aside and turned fully toward her.
Lumia braced herself, taking a fighting stance.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
A familiar voice came from behind.
“…Lito.”
Lito stepped forward, placing himself between Lumia and Toga as if to shield her.
But his expression was nothing like his usual cheerful self.
His gaze was cold—like ice—as it fixed on Toga.
“…Who the hell are you?”
Lito spoke in a low voice.
“Well, well… look at that. The hero himself shows up. Don’t like your kind. Acting all high and mighty… just don’t get in my way.”
Even against Lito, who outranked him, Toga showed no hesitation.
Facing each other, Lito wasn’t small—but Toga was larger, more imposing.
A brief silence fell. Tension tightened the air.
Then—
Toga swung his clenched fist straight at Lito.
That was all the eye could follow.
What Lito did next—no one saw.
But the one who had thrown the punch, Toga, now lay on the ground just like the men he had beaten.
“Stay down.”
Lito spat the words and turned back.
For a moment, Lumia wondered what he was doing—then she noticed his hand, lowered near his thigh, asking for a fist bump.
She returned it. Small, subtle—so no one else would notice.
He did the same with Lock.
This fist bump was a ritual among their class.
Whenever something good happened, they always did it.
A kind of code.
Lumia felt a quiet warmth rise within her.
Lito was still Lito.
And at the same time, she realized something else—
Even that madman who had taken down four men
was no match for him.