The moment the hooded figure stepped fully through the broken window, Cal moved.
Not because he had a plan.
Because standing still was death.
His brush slashed through the air.
Paint scattered like droplets of liquid light.
A massive wolf burst into existence before its paws struck the floor. Its fur was made from layers of gray and black paint, muscles rippling beneath its painted skin as it lunged straight for the intruder's throat.
A second wolf appeared beside it.
Then three hawks erupted from swirling strokes above Cal's head.
The room exploded into motion.
The wolves attacked low.
The hawks attacked high.
A perfect pincer attack.
The hooded figure didn't move.
The air changed.
Cal felt it immediately.
The temperature dropped so fast that his breath crystallized in front of his face.
The nearest wolf froze solid in midair.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
One moment it was alive.
The next it was a statue of ice.
The frozen creature shattered against the floor.
The second wolf met the same fate.
The hawks dropped from the air like stones.
Cal's eyes widened.
That wasn't ice.
Ice was a result.
This was something else.
Before he could think further—
the temperature reversed.
Heat.
A flash of white filled the room.
The remaining paint ignited.
A wave of superheated air slammed into Cal.
It felt like being hit by a moving furnace.
His body flew backward.
The table behind him exploded into splinters as he crashed through it.
The hooded figure finally moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
A blur crossed the room.
Cal barely got his brush up.
The punch struck with terrifying force.
The impact rattled his bones.
He slid across the floor and smashed into the wall hard enough to crack stone.
Pain exploded through both arms.
The stranger didn't stop.
A second strike came.
Cal rolled away.
The floor froze where he'd been a fraction of a second earlier.
Ice spread across the wood.
Then the ice vanished.
Steam erupted upward.
The sudden expansion blew chunks out of the flooring.
The room shook.
Cal jumped to his feet.
Paint surged from his brush.
Spears formed.
Ten of them.
They launched simultaneously.
The stranger raised a hand.
The temperature around the projectiles spiked.
The paint dried.
Cracked.
Crumpled.
The spears disintegrated before reaching their target.
Cal's stomach tightened.
Nothing he had thrown so far mattered.
The stranger continued walking forward.
Cal painted fire.
A wall of flame roared across the room.
The hooded figure didn't even react.
The flames weakened.
Shrank.
Then vanished entirely.
The surrounding temperature had robbed them of the conditions they needed to survive.
The realization unsettled Cal.
The figure punched forward.
Not physically.
The air itself punched.
A wave of heat tore across the room.
The wall behind Cal softened.
Then melted.
Stone dripped down like candle wax.
"Okay," Cal muttered.
"That's ridiculous."
The hood tilted slightly.
Almost curious.
That bothered Cal more than the attacks.
They weren't angry.
They weren't trying to intimidate him.
They were studying him.
Testing him.
Like a scientist observing an experiment.
Cal hated it.
Paint exploded from his brush.
A tiger appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
Three painted predators charged from different directions.
The room instantly plunged below freezing.
Ice covered every surface.
The tigers froze solid.
Then shattered.
The cold hit Cal as well.
His lungs burned.
His fingers went numb.
Pain stabbed through his chest every time he inhaled.
Then heat returned.
The ice became steam.
The rapid change created a violent pressure wave.
Furniture exploded apart.
Glass shattered throughout the room.
The building groaned.
Cal stumbled.
The stranger appeared in front of him.
A fist slammed into his ribs.
Something cracked.
Cal flew across the room.
Pain shot through his side.
He hit the floor hard enough to bounce.
Blood filled his mouth.
He spat it out.
The hooded figure continued approaching.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
As if they knew exactly how much stronger they were.
That angered Cal.
More than the injuries.
More than the danger.
He hated being underestimated.
His brush moved again.
Paint flooded the floor.
Roots erupted upward.
Trees burst from walls.
Branches exploded through furniture.
The safehouse transformed into a miniature forest.
The stranger finally reacted.
The temperature dropped.
Everything froze.
Trees.
Roots.
Leaves.
Every creation became motionless.
Cal watched carefully.
For the first time he stopped focusing on winning.
He focused on learning.
The stranger destroyed another tree.
Heat.
Roots attempted restraint.
Cold.
Aggressive attacks.
Heat.
Defensive measures.
Cold.
A pattern.
A system.
Cal continued creating.
Not to overwhelm.
To gather information.
More vines.
More birds.
More wolves.
Each one gave him another piece of the puzzle.
The hooded figure destroyed everything.
But Cal started noticing mistakes.
Tiny ones.
Moments where the stranger reacted automatically.
Moments where certain attacks forced specific responses.
The fight became less about power.
More about understanding.
Minutes passed.
The room became unrecognizable.
Half the walls were frozen.
The other half looked melted.
Steam filled the air.
Water dripped from the ceiling.
Burned paint covered every surface.
Neither fighter remained untouched.
Cal had burns across his shoulder.
Frostbite forming along his left arm.
Bruised ribs.
Cuts from flying debris.
The stranger had injuries too.
Painted wolves had left claw marks.
Roots had sliced through their sleeves.
One hawk had managed to strike their face.
Blood dripped beneath the hood.
Not much.
But enough.
Enough to prove they weren't invincible.
Cal smiled through bloodstained teeth.
Good.
They could bleed.
That meant they could lose.
The fight intensified.
Cal painted water into existence.
The stranger heated it instantly.
Steam flooded the room.
Visibility vanished.
The battlefield disappeared.
Cal moved.
The stranger searched.
Painted birds attacked from multiple directions.
Cold exploded outward.
The steam condensed further.
Visibility became even worse.
Cal smiled.
The stranger had helped him.
The room was now a maze.
Perfect.
Wolves attacked from below.
Snakes struck from blind angles.
Roots erupted beneath the floorboards.
The stranger began reacting instead of controlling.
For the first time, momentum shifted.
Cal pressed harder.
Faster.
More creations.
More pressure.
The stranger destroyed them all.
But every response cost energy.
Every attack required focus.
The battle stopped looking effortless.
Then Cal noticed something.
A memory surfaced.
A conversation.
Something Mercer had once mentioned while discussing legends.
Not fire.
Not ice.
Temperature.
Balance.
Extremes.
Heat and cold as one force.
His eyes widened.
The realization struck like lightning.
He couldn't identify the exact legend yet.
But he finally understood the ability.
Thermal control.
Complete thermal control.
The stranger wasn't commanding elements.
They were commanding energy itself.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The melting walls.
The freezing air.
The steam.
The pressure waves.
The instant environmental changes.
"That's it," Cal whispered.
The hooded figure paused.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But Cal saw it.
He'd figured something out.
The stranger knew it too.
The battle entered its final stage.
Cal poured everything into one last gamble.
Paint erupted from the floor.
Chains.
Hundreds of chains.
They burst upward like a tidal wave.
The stranger froze dozens.
Burned dozens more.
But more replaced them.
And more.
And more.
An endless storm of restraints.
The room became a prison made entirely from paint.
For the first time since the battle began—
the stranger showed urgency.
Their movements accelerated.
The temperature fluctuated wildly.
Walls cracked.
The floor split apart.
Windows exploded.
But Cal pushed harder.
Ignoring pain.
Ignoring exhaustion.
Ignoring the blood running down his face.
The chains wrapped around an arm.
Then a leg.
Then their waist.
The stranger struggled.
Another chain landed.
Then another.
Then another.
Cal's eyes widened.
It was working.
The hooded figure was trapped.
Actually trapped.
For a single glorious moment—
victory seemed possible.
Then the air distorted.
Heat and cold erupted simultaneously.
Not alternating.
Together.
Reality itself seemed to warp around the stranger.
The chains shattered.
Every single restraint exploded apart.
The shockwave threw Cal backward.
He crashed into the wall.
The breath left his lungs.
The hooded figure looked directly at him.
For the first time all fight—
Cal felt genuine danger.
The kind that made instinct scream.
The stranger took one step backward.
Then another.
The window behind them exploded outward.
Cal lunged.
A painted hawk screamed through the air.
Roots burst from the floor.
Wolves leaped forward.
Too late.
The hooded figure vanished into the night.
Gone.
Just gone.
Cal staggered toward the shattered window.
The city stretched below him.
Lights.
Crowds.
Noise.
Life.
No sign of the stranger remained.
Only questions.
He looked down at his cracked brush.
Then at Grekos's body.
Then at the ruined room.
The fight had lasted less than half an hour.
It looked like a battlefield.
And despite everything—
despite all the damage—
despite figuring out the ability—
despite pushing the stranger harder than they expected—
Cal still hadn't won.
He clenched his brush tightly.
Somewhere in Greece, that person was still moving.
Still watching.
Still carrying whatever secret had gotten Grekos killed.
And next time...
Cal intended to learn exactly whose legend they carried.