"Let's go!" I thundered, flow energy crackling like white-hot lightning across our skins as Hadal and I lunged toward the trio of bullies who'd haunted my nightmares. Today I'd end this feud once and for all—and make them regret ever laying a hand on me.
"Don't get cocky," Marcel snarled, his fist pulsing with that same sickly purple flow that'd sent me to the ER days ago. I braced myself, heart hammering—but instead of dodging, I squared my stance and drove my arm up to absorb the full brunt of his blow. The impact rattled my bones, but I refused to budge.
"Have you weakened, Marcel… or have I outgrown you?" I taunted through gritted teeth. Before he could reply, I spun out and let loose a blistering flow-enhanced back kick to his gut. He rocketed backward, tumbling into the sand in a cloud of grit. In an instant, though, he sprang up, purple aura flaring, "Boxing Flow Art, Sixth Move: Fake Charge!"
He blurred forward—vanished—reappearing directly behind me. His fist crashed down like a sledgehammer, wind shrieking in its wake. But he hadn't counted on Hadal. With a single, devastating sweep of his foot, Marcel exploded into the air and skidded across the beach, dazed.
"Nice one, Hadal. Let's finish this." We fell back-to-back, ready to defend against the rest of the Musclehead High-Top Crew. Our breaths came hard and fast; Tajudeen's arena still sucked our stamina dry. We had to end the fight quickly—every wasted second bled us of energy.
"Joseph, they're coming—brace yourself!" Hadal's shout cut through the roar of crashing waves. Chris dropped from above in a feral arc, boot aimed at my skull. I rolled aside just in time; his impact left a crater like an artillery shell had struck the sand.
No hesitation. I surged forward, fists blazing with flow energy. Chris swung wildly, and I danced through his reach, then slammed my charged fist into his abdomen. He flew upward in a screech, slamming face-first into the beach with a thunderous crack. The ground ruptured; sand and seawater surged into the new chasm.
As I stood panting, Hadal by my side, the surviving bullies froze—hollow-eyed. "Sir," Paul gasped to Tajudeen, "we can't beat them now that Chris is down."
Tajudeen's aristocratic composure snapped. "Fine," he seethed. "Come here." Two lackeys knelt before him as green glyphs of flow energy spiraled over their bodies. A wild scream split the air. Their skin darkened to blood-red, muscles ballooned—they towered as seven-and-a-half-foot titans, veins roaring with power. The arena's summoning pillars collapsed behind them, their energy siphoned into these monsters.
"Begin!" Tajudeen hissed. The mutants charged, whip-like arms lashing the ground, cracking stone. "Hadal, use Cloud Chasing Step—move or you'll be shredded!" He vanished in a blur, reappearing in my periphery just as a whip snapped where he'd been standing.
I closed my eyes, dialing my senses to eleven: the salt tang of the sea, the hot sting of sand in my teeth, the sun burning on my neck—and most importantly, the faint shimmer of two soul points beating like drums behind those hulking forms. If I could strike their souls, I could win.
"Hadal! Freeze them for a heartbeat!" I roared. He grinned, sweat and blood mixed on his brow. "Just a second—" He unleashed a sustained blast of flow energy that encased both mutants in a glowing cage of force, paralyzing their sinewy limbs.
My body became the focal point of a swirling vortex of cool azure flow. A hurricane of energy battered the earth under my feet. "Flow Smasher Art—First Move: Soul Smasher!" I hollered as I punched the air. A shockwave of exhilarating wind energy erupted from my fist, vaporizing everything in front of me. When the roar subsided and the sand settled, the titans were gone—reverted to their scrawny forms—but half the beach lay in ruins. A tidal wave of seawater roared into the crater I'd carved.
Hadal stared, jaw agape. "That… punch. What the hell was that?"
Across the ruined sands, Tajudeen stood frozen, eyes bulging. "You… you monster!" he shrieked. He clawed at his face like a madman. "Relinquish the professor or your friends never leave this campus alive."
He lifted a trembling hand, green-black aura coiling like vipers around his fingers in the shape of a gun. "Your friend stays… to watch. Someone must scrape your remains from this beach."
My heart hammered, fear twisting my gut. But anger flared hotter. I shed my torn uniform, muscles humming with stored energy. The wind gusted, whirl followed by dead silence—the calm before the storm.
I inhaled deeply, channeling every drop of flow energy into my limbs. Adrenaline and determination fused into a single, unstoppable force. I launched myself like a bullet into the air, eyes locked on Tajudeen as I bellowed:
"LET'S END THIS!"