Silence stretched between them, heavy and unnatural, as if the world itself had paused to observe the outcome. Oliver tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with measured scrutiny as he studied Damien.
Damien, meanwhile, simply scratched the back of his head.
There was no tension in his posture. No visible damage. No reaction that matched what should have happened.
"Was that meant to do something?" Damien asked, glancing around as if expecting a delayed effect, his tone edged with genuine confusion rather than mockery.
Oliver's gaze sharpened.
"...Interesting," he muttered under his breath. There was no frustration in his voice only curiosity that sharpened into something dangerous. "If that didn't work… then I'll just use something that will."
He stepped forward, rolling his shoulders slightly as his fingers curled and cracked, the sound crisp in the stillness.
Then...
He was gone.
Damien blinked once.
Oliver was already in front of him.
A fist, drawn back with precise intent, drove forward and buried itself deep into Damien's abdomen. The impact folded Damien instantly, all the air leaving his lungs in a violent rush as his body lifted off the ground and was launched backward like a projectile.
He tore through the air and crashed into the main building, concrete and steel splintering on impact before his body dropped amid the debris.
For a moment, he just lay there, blinking.
Processing.
Then, slowly, his lips stretched into a grin as he pushed himself back to his feet.
But Oliver had already closed the distance again.
A leg snapped out and slammed into Damien's side.
The force sent him flying once more, his body tearing through multiple classroom walls in succession, each impact punctuated by explosive bursts of dust, splintered wood, and shattered concrete.
Further down the hallway, untouched by the chaos until now as a small group of students walked, their voices casual, almost detached from the reality surrounding them.
"You ever think main characters actually exist?" one of them said, a black-haired demi-human with wolf ears resting his hands behind his head as he walked.
The blonde beside him shrugged. "What if it's us?"
A girl with dark curls exhaled softly, idly turning a rusted knife between her fingers. "Could be. We deal with enough nonsense in this place."
Another boy laughed lightly. "You know those stories? Where everything goes crazy and people just… awaken something?"
"Maybe this is that," the first one said, grinning. "Our awakening arc."
A few quiet chuckles passed between them.
Then the blonde glanced over. "Alright, if that's true… what would you even want?"
The black-haired human boy jogged ahead a few steps, spinning around to face them with a wide, unguarded grin.
"I'd be the strongest," he said. "Then I'd avenge my parents."
They stopped.
The girl stared at him flatly. "That's the most cliché thing you've ever said."
His grin faltered slightly as he scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah… but just wait. I'll prove I'm the real main chara—"
The wall beside them exploded.
Damien's body tore through it at impossible speed and collided directly into the boy.
There was no resistance.
No moment of impact.
The boy's body simply failed as it ruptured outward under the force, blood and fragments spraying violently across the hallway and onto the stunned faces of the others.
Silence.
Absolute, suffocating silence.
The girl's lips trembled as her voice barely formed.
"...Ma—Mason…?"
A shadow crossed the opening.
Oliver stepped through.
His gaze moved across the group, indifferent, clinical. For a brief moment, he simply observed them as they had wide eyes, frozen limbs, minds failing to process what they had just witnessed.
Then he lifted a single finger.
A small green flame flickered to life at its tip.
He exhaled.
The flame drifted forward.
And then they ignited.
Fire consumed them instantly, clinging to their bodies like something alive. Their screams tore through the hallway, raw and desperate, as flesh began to distort, melt, and drip in viscous strands onto the floor beneath them.
They tried to move. Tried to escape.
There was nowhere to go.
Within seconds, their voices broke and reduced to ragged gasps, then nothing at all. Their mouths remained open, locked in silent agony as their forms collapsed inward, shrinking, dissolving, becoming unrecognizable.
Oliver didn't watch them finish.
His attention had already shifted.
He blinked.
Damien was there.
A fist already in motion.
It slammed upward into Oliver's jaw with brutal force, snapping his head back and launching him into the air.
Damien dropped low immediately, muscles coiling beneath torn fabric, the ground beneath his feet fracturing under the pressure as he propelled himself upward in pursuit.
They rose fast through dust, through heat, cutting into the open sky until they reached just beneath the cloud line.
Oliver's body began to descend.
Damien met him there.
Mid-air, Damien lifted his leg high before driving it down with crushing force onto Oliver's torso.
The impact folded Oliver's body inward as both of them were forced downward, gravity reclaiming them as friction ignited heat along their descent.
They fell.
Fast.
Violently.
Until
Impact.
The ground shattered.
For a moment, there was nothing.
No sound.
No movement.
Just a quiet, unnatural stillness.
Then Oliver's ribs caved further as the ground beneath him began to vanish.
Not crack.
Not break.
Evaporate.
Layer by layer, the earth disintegrated outward from the point of impact, the destruction deepening, widening, consuming everything in its radius.
A lone bird passed overhead, its path cutting across the sky and its eye catching the devastation below.
For nearly five hundred meters, the land had been erased.
At the center of it all
A crater.
And within it
Them.
Damien stood a few feet away as the dust finally settled, arms folded loosely across his chest, posture relaxed in a way that didn't match the devastation around them. His gaze dropped toward Oliver, who lay at the center of the crater.
"Are you done?" Damien asked, one eyebrow raised, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Oliver exhaled sharply through his nose before pushing himself up. His movements were slower now not weak, but measured, as if recalibrating. He rolled onto one knee, then to his feet, brushing dust from his shoulder.
"No," he said plainly. "If I stayed down from that, it would be disappointing."
Damien nodded once, almost approvingly.
Oliver rolled his neck, a subtle crack breaking the silence, then his shoulders followed. He placed his hands on his hips, studying Damien again this time more carefully, more analytically.
"I find it… interesting," Oliver began, his tone quieter now, less theatrical and more deliberate, "that my ability didn't work on you."
Damien tilted his head slightly. "Oh, so it was meant to do something?"
For a brief moment, Oliver's lips twitched not quite irritation and not quite amusement. Then he exhaled.
"Yes," he said. "It targets the soul. If more than half of it is deemed corrupted, it erases it." His eyes narrowed slightly. "But yours… isn't. Surprisingly, your soul is still intact. Untainted."
Damien shrugged, as if the statement held no real weight to him. "Then I guess we'll just have to kill each other the normal way."
He unfolded his arms slowly, cracking his knuckles as his stance shifted.
Oliver watched him for a second longer before a smirk crept across his face.
"Just fists?"
"Just hands."
A quiet breath of amusement escaped Oliver as he stepped forward. Damien mirrored him.
They closed the distance without breaking eye contact, the air between them tightening with something far more primal than before.
Then Damien moved first.
His fist shot upward in a sharp arc fast, direct but Oliver leaned back just enough for it to miss by inches.
"You cheap bastard," Oliver muttered.
"Never said I was expensive."
Oliver responded immediately, driving a punch toward Damien's midsection. Damien's left forearm snapped down, catching the blow cleanly. The impact thudded against bone but before the force could settle, Damien's right hand came up and slammed into Oliver's jaw.
A clean connection.
Oliver's head snapped to the side, his footing shifting slightly as he absorbed it. He retaliated with a wide, sloppy overhead swing powerful, but unrefined.
Damien ducked under it.
His body twisted sharply, hips turning as he drove a compact punch into Oliver's right side. The moment it landed, he rose with an uppercut that snapped Oliver's head upward again.
No pause.
Damien stepped in, both hands shooting up to grab Oliver by the head. He dragged it downward and drove his knee upward
Crunch.
Again.
Crunch.
And again.
Crunch.
He released him, letting Oliver's body stagger backward before stepping forward and bringing a heavy overhead strike down onto his skull.
The blow forced Oliver to stumble, his balance finally beginning to give.
Damien straightened, watching him with a steady gaze.
"Too reliant," he said calmly. "You've been leaning on your abilities so long you forgot how to fight properly."
There was no mockery in his tone. It was just a flat observation.
"What a waste. I thought this would last longer."
He moved again.
This time faster.
Within seconds, the strikes came in a clean, brutal sequence of a liver, gut, hook to the jaw, another hook, a body shot that folded Oliver slightly, then an uppercut that lifted him just enough to break his stance.
Finally
A sharp jab snapped Oliver's head back, blood spilling from his nose.
His eyes rolled.
His body swayed.
Then he dropped.
Unconscious before he hit the ground.
Damien stood over him for a moment, silent.
Then his eyes dimmed.
The glow faded.
And just like that, everything hit him at once.
His face tightened, muscles locking as pain surged through his body in delayed waves. He exhaled sharply before letting himself fall backward onto the scorched ground, staring up at the sky as he tried to regulate his breathing.
"If that guy actually knew how to fight…" he muttered between breaths, "I would've lost."
A pause.
"I wonder how the others are doing."
Across the ruined grounds, Jiwon sat slumped against a cracked wall, breathing unevenly, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts. His hands rested loosely at his sides, fingers twitching slightly from overuse.
Soren approached at a measured pace before lowering himself beside him, leaning back against the same wall.
"How was it?" Soren asked, glancing sideways.
Jiwon shook his head slowly, still catching his breath. "He leaned on his abilities way too much. Took longer than it should've, but… the outcome was obvious."
He turned his head slightly. "You?"
Soren nodded once. "Same pattern. Once I adjusted to her movement, it was over."
A third voice cut in.
"They were arrogant."
Both of them looked up.
Renji stood a few steps away, his clothes torn in places, faint marks lining his body, but his posture remained upright, composed.
Jiwon blinked. "Damn… what happened to you?"
Renji exhaled quietly. "That 3D anatomy project kept on using endless summons. It caused me a bit of damage before I finally beat him."
He stepped closer, gaze steady.
"But that's the point," he continued. "From what you've said and I'm guessing Damien's fight went the same way they relied too heavily on their abilities."
A brief pause.
"They never had to fight someone who could match them without being affected by those abilities."
His tone flattened.
"So when they finally did…"
"They lost," Jiwon finished.
Renji gave a small nod.
"It's disappointing."
Soren exhaled lightly, pushing himself up. "At least we're not walking away half-dead this time."
Renji turned slightly. "I'll go get Damien."
Before he could take a full step—
Space distorted.
Portals opened beneath each of them simultaneously.
There was no time to react.
They dropped.
They hit the ground hard, the familiar void-like space collapsing behind them as reality reformed into something far more mundane.
For a moment, none of them moved.
Then Damien's voice broke the silence.
"…I forgot about this damn expensive scent."
Jiwon groaned softly as he pushed himself upright. "Forget the scent we can finally relax."
He dragged himself to the couch and collapsed onto it without ceremony, grabbing the remote and flicking the television on.
The screen lit up instantly.
"BreakingNews—"
All four of them stilled.
"The underground vibrations first recorded over a decade ago have begun to intensify. Scientists worldwide are now stating that this is no longer a simple geological anomaly. Deep-earth scans have revealed multiple moving heat signatures beneath the crust."
The camera cut to footage—graphs, seismic readings, blurred thermal visuals.
"Current projections estimate that, within twenty years, whatever is moving beneath the surface may reach ground level."
The room grew quieter.
"In addition, global disappearance cases have increased significantly. Individuals who were previously missing have begun returning with many reporting experiences in unknown environments, including unfamiliar worlds and isolated landmasses."
The screen shifted again.
A recording.
A man appeared—ragged, prematurely aged, his expression unstable.
"I'm telling you," he said, voice strained and rising, "this isn't random. You think people disappearing and coming back is normal?!"
The camera shook as he moved through what looked like a forest.
"We're all going to die. I saw them. I felt them, their teeth and claws."
He dragged the camera downward.
A prosthetic leg.
"I DON'T EVEN HAVE MY LEG ANYMORE!"
The camera snapped back to his face.
"THEY'RE COMING. RUN. HIDE. DO WHATEVER YOU CAN. THEY ARE COMING. THIS IS THE END. WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"
The footage cut abruptly.
The news anchor reappeared, composed but visibly tense.
"Public response remains divided. While some dismiss these claims as fabricated, others believe there may be a connection between the disappearances and the seismic activity. Global population fluctuations have also raised concern, with numbers dropping by nearly twenty-five percent before sporadically recovering."
A brief pause.
"We can only hope that these warnings are unfounded."
She offered a practiced smile.
"This is Kanu Sumya, signing off for DDC News."
The screen shifted to a bright, cheerful cereal advertisement.
The contrast was jarring.
Damien stared at the ceiling.
"…I hate that I believe him," he said quietly.
Soren leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze distant.
"We're not the only ones disappearing," he said. "But from what we've seen… we might be the only ones coming back with abilities."
"Don't assume that yet," Renji replied from the table, one leg crossed over the other. "We don't have enough data."
He paused, thinking.
"But one thing is consistent."
They looked at him.
"We're being sent somewhere repeatedly. And each time… it escalates."
Jiwon frowned slightly. "So what, we're being trained?"
A brief silence followed.
"By who?" he added.
"The Observer?" he guessed.
Soren shook his head slowly. "Maybe. But… it doesn't feel like the top of the chain."
His fingers ran through his hair as tension crept into his posture.
"There's something above that."
Silence settled over the room again this time heavier, more grounded.
Not from exhaustion.
But from the realization that whatever was happening to them was only getting started.
The Blood Festival has ended
The four are home with new alarming news...
What are their next courses of action? What is happening to the world?
Find out in the next chapters...