Aberdeen City, five years prior

Under the cloudy skies amongst the urbanscape, two young men—one twenty-five, one eighteen—were duking it out.

It was Ansel and his nominal brother, Garan.

For the past half an hour, the two had been sparring, though it was mostly Ansel trying to land a hit, albeit to no avail.

At this point, the eighteen-year-old Ansel was extremely sweaty and uncomfortable, his fiery red hair sticking on his smooth skin.

Suddenly, the dark-haired Garan grabbed the redhead's arm, throwing him over his shoulder, throwing him straight to the ground.

Oof!

Ansel groaned in pain, eyes squinting from the brightness of the white clouds.

He struggled to get out of the damned ground, handsome face covered with mud from the soil below and his sweat. He felt extremely uncomfortable.

He tilted his head to glare at the other person, who was as stern as always, muscular arms crossed and looking down at him.

Garan Witt was extremely good-looking.

He had ebony-black hair described to be as black as the universe by his admirers. This, along with his cerulean eyes deep as the ocean, as well as his masculine and chiseled features, made countless women swoon.

Not to mention, his well-toned body and imposing aura was the goal of all men.

And this same man was looking at him like a weakling. Although he didn't show anything on his indifferent face, Ansel couldn't help but feel that he was mocking him.

Damnit!

"Stand up. Be a man." He said, his masculine voice full of imposing aura.

And it gritted on Ansel's ears.

"Althea will be heartbroken to see my bruises!" He couldn't help but quip back, knowing it was a sore spot for the man.

Sure enough, the stoic expression on the overly handsome man's face cracked a bit.

His well-formed eyebrows furrowed and crossed his arms, looking badly at him.

"She knows I do this for your own good." He uttered out, his low baritone voice making him look more mature.

Mature? PFFT!

Lies! Absolute lies!

Ansel immediately opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but the jerk beat him to it.

"Ah, I see." He paused, "You wish to be saved by a little girl again."

Jerk!!

He mocked him for his baby-acts, but who didn't know he often purposely fascinated Althea with that handsome face of his!

Ptooey!

He could still remember this ice-block acting spoiled when he was with Althea!

Barf!

The sight burned his eyes! Literally!

The anger injected adrenaline in his veins and he immediately stood up ready to resume the fight.

He sprinted towards the man who didn't even bother adopting a defensive stance, and a vein of annoyance grew in his head.

He immediately threw a jab at him, easily avoided, but turned his head to give him a side kick.

Also easily avoided.

Ansel continued attacking Garan, punch after punch, jab after jab, and then sent him occasional-supposedly-well-timed kicks.

Not a single one connected.

He couldn't even touch the fabric of his clothes.

What made everything worse was that the guy wasn't breaking a sweat at all. The jerk still had the energy to send out the occasional critique with that deadpan voice of his.

"Your center of balance is too shaky. This is what you get for not training your body well."

"You lose your cool too easily."

"Keep a clear head, and you'll be able to find openings." He paused, avoiding another one of his attacks. "If you're against normal enemies, that is."

F*ck you!

"Language."

He didn't even say it out loud!

Grrr—

In their scuffle, they got nearer and nearer to a wall.

A flash of idea entered his mind and he continued his usual attacks, with imminent misses, but it didn't matter at all.

If anything, his hits were more inspired and a little quicker than usual. One time his punch almost—almost—nicked the side of his shirt.

Suddenly, Ansel darted to the wall, using it as a thrust, and he flew above Garan. He clenched his fist, aiming to hit the square jawline of the other man.

Garan managed to block it with his arms, but Ansel felt elated regardless.

Finally connected!

It didn't do any damage, but it connected nevertheless.

Progress was progress, no matter what!

To his surprise, the man actually smiled a little, giving him an approving nod.

"Very good." He said, and Ansel's eyes dilated a little. "You've improved."

Ansel honestly felt happier than winning a contest.

_______

City Z, Present

Ansel leaped up using the brick wall of the adjacent building, making use of his weight to behead the upgraded zombie with his new machete.

With another breath, he sprinted to a direction, slashing another, before turning his body to finally behead the damned thing.

"You're amazing…" Tom said holding his axe and had just barely managed to deal with his own upgraded zombie opponent.

He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I…er… had a rough childhood." He said, continuously defending himself from the onslaught of zombies that came their way.

They now had to leave his baby Barbara behind because there were too many cars on the road, some were still leaking gasoline.

The duo had no choice but to go forward on foot.

It was not easy, but somehow they managed to get out of the mobs alive.

However, as they dealt with zombie after zombie and got out of it alive and well, he couldn't help but look back at Garan's upbringing.

Although he felt extremely tired and dirty, it was inevitable to feel a little melancholic at the suffering he went through under that man's fists.

Because the number of times the knowledge he learned saved his life was uncountable.

He still felt a little thankful to that jerk, after all.