Harem Quest: From Trash to King-Chapter 100: The Crew Leader.

They all looked at him together, the same small, sober nod from each face. It was not loud or flashy. It was quiet and heavy, like the kind of nod you give when you promise to be somewhere for someone no matter what. Ryan felt it in his chest more than he saw it. For a second his throat closed, not from fear but from something like belonging.

"You all did nice, guys," he said, voice low and honest. "Thanks for the help."

Maya blinked as if he had chosen the wrong word by mistake. "Help? How is it help when we are fighting for our own crew?" she asked. She sounded more confused than annoyed, like he had missed a fact right in front of him. To her, it was not help. It was duty.

Arthur gave a small nod, the kind that said nothing and told everything. His face stayed unreadable, calm and tight. Leon dusted his jacket with a lazy motion and smiled like a man brushing off a small storm. "Yeah," he said, soft and almost surprised. "I’ve grown fond of our friendship these past few days too."

Daniel bounced forward, full of energy the way he always was. "Yeah me too, me too," he sang out, hands waving around for no reason other than to be loud. Ryan let out a small, tired sigh.

"Daniel, you’re not our crew member," he said. "You’re just a temporary ally."

Daniel’s face fell into the most dramatic pout he could make. His eyes went big and puppyish. "Awww mannnn," he whined with pure, silly disappointment.

Aiden gave Daniel a light shove and said, "Shut up, Daniel." Then he looked at Ryan. "You don’t have to thank us, Ryan. We were sick of the West High crew too. It’s good we took them down."

Ryan nodded, a single solid motion. "Not yet. The main guy is left." The words cut through the small laugh and lightness like a knife. Everyone’s posture straightened. Jokes were gone. It was all business now.

They moved down the hall together, not in silence but in the kind of quiet that means people are thinking about what comes next. The door at the end was a little larger than the others, darker wood, a brass handle worn smooth in the middle. The hallway smelled like dust and old smoke with a tinge of iron where blood had dried. Lights flickered above, making shadows breathe across the walls.

Ryan put his hand on the handle and pushed.

The room felt different. Too calm for a place that had just been the center of a fight. A large desk sat in the middle like a stage. Papers were scattered like someone had been bored with order. The leather chair behind the desk leaned back and a man lay in it with his legs propped on the desk and a book covering his face like a mask.

He sounded lazy when he spoke. "Ah... I guess you guys took out Kai and Sam, huh?"

Ryan stepped forward. "Yes. We did. Now it’s your turn. Whatever your name is."

The man lowered the book. He was broad shouldered and moved with that easy confidence that comes from thinking the world is usually bendable. Tall, maybe six two or so. He looked like the kind of guy who had been told he was special often enough to believe it.

He scanned the room and stopped on Arthur. "Arthur Kane," he said, sharp and mocking. "Are you the leader of these chickens?"

Arthur didn’t reply. He just stood like a statue, muscles relaxed but ready. His face was unreadable. That was Arthur’s armor.

The man’s smirk widened. "Not so chatty as usual." His eyes flicked to Leon next. "Oh, your partner in crime is here too, Arthur?" he added like he was tasting a joke he liked.

Leon’s jaw tightened. The vein in his neck popped out like rope. "Yo. Long time no see, Warren," Leon said, voice low and a little dangerous.

Warren brushed his hair back with a slow hand. He made a sound that was half laugh, half scorn. "Yeah, yeah. Canon fodder." The words were meant to stab, to make Leon sound small.

Before anyone could answer, Warren moved.

It was not the kind of move you could track. He was there, then not. His hand clamped onto Ryan’s face so fast Ryan’s head went light. Warren lifted him like he weighed nothing, and then his boot pulled back as if to stomp Ryan’s head into the floor.

The room froze.

This was the kind of thing people see in cheap movies, but it was very real. Ryan had no time to think. He felt the world narrow to a single, sharp point.

"Eh? What the—" Ryan’s thought died in his mouth.

People reacted. Not in slow, cinematic time. In real time, where a second is a world.

Daniel’s leg flashed out like lightning. His kick cut the air with a sound like a blade. It was fast and beautiful in a way that hurt to watch. It almost hit Warren’s temple. Warren twisted and let the kick graze the side of his head.

Arthur’s cross came in at the same moment, a clean, cutting punch that smashed into Warren’s ribs. The sound of the hit was heavy and wet. Warren’s breath left him in a rough exhale.

Leon spun, a full 360 kick aimed at Warren’s left rib. The motion was brutal and perfect, a thing Leon had practiced in dark gyms and harder nights.

Aiden launched a knee under Warren’s arm, a sharp move meant to make his hand loosen and the grip on Ryan fail.

Four directions, four attacks. The room was a flash of limbs and anger.

Warren, slippery and quick, twisted out of most of it. He let go of Ryan and jumped back like a man who had decided to live another day. He landed gracefully but his ribs were burning from Arthur’s cross. He still grinned, even as his breath came short.

"Fucker," Warren spat, clutching his side. "You grew since our last fight. That punch... beyond human limits."