Attacked

As Ethan padded quietly through the still forest, gathering the cards from the unconscious students, a steady hum reverberated within him, a warmth tingling beneath his skin. His body, no longer just a vessel, but a powerhouse of energy. The command over the nuclear reactor in his body had unchained a vitality he'd never known. He found himself murmuring to the silent woods, "I've never felt so alive."

The rustle of leaves underfoot snapped him out of his thoughts. Emerging from the dappled shadow of the trees was another student, his eyes flaring with an intense determination. A derisive snort escaped him as he sized up Ethan.

"So, you think you're smart, huh?" he drawled, an unpleasant smile etching his features.

In response, Ethan rose to his full height, mask hiding any hint of his expression. Without warning, the student lunged, his fist slicing through the air. Ethan's body moved fluidly, evading the strike. Their dance of fists and feet began, a ballet of power and control.

Each exchange was a rhythm, a martial artistry of dodges and strikes that took them spinning across the leaf-strewn earth. Their movements, quick as lightning, were a blur in the quiet forest. Ethan's body moved with a newfound grace, every punch, every kick fuelled by the relentless energy of the reactor within him. Despite the violence of their confrontation, there was a strange beauty in their dance, two forces locked in a battle of power and wits.

As the balletic bout carried on, it became a symphony of relentless attacks and intricate countermeasures. Ethan flowed like water around every punch, countered every kick with the precision of a seasoned warrior. His body moved, no, it danced to the tune of an inner rhythm, the nuclear reactor inside him humming louder with each beat.

The other student staggered backward, his face flushed with the exertion. Yet, his eyes flashed with something new, a trick up his sleeve, Ethan reckoned. The air seemed to change, vibrating with a new energy that hadn't been there before.

Then it began. With an upward sweep of his arm, the student summoned a furious gust of wind. The once calm forest roared into life, leaves whirling in chaotic symphony as the wind surged around them. The student controlled the wind like a maestro, guiding it into a bladed gale that whistled through the air towards Ethan.

Ethan was no stranger to elemental powers, yet he did not possess one. His heart pounded in his chest as the wind, sharp and lethal like a sword, screamed towards him. But he was Ethan, he was not defined by the powers he did not have. He was defined by the willpower he held within him, the courage that forged his spirit and the relentless energy that pulsed through his veins.

As the wind slashed towards him, he grounded himself, his stance as sturdy as an oak. With a determined glance, he stared into the heart of the storm. The wind roared, but Ethan stood his ground. The battle was far from over, and he was far from defeated.

***

The air was thick with tension as the student jeered, his voice carrying through the gusty forest, "Poor Ethan, without a speck of elemental power to his name. You're as mundane as it gets."

Ethan, never one to back down from a verbal duel, retorted with a lopsided grin, "And here I thought, only the weak hide behind elements. Isn't it pathetic, to be so dependent?"

The barbs exchanged, a war of words set amidst their physical duel. Behind the playful banter, however, Ethan's mind was racing, formulating blueprints for a weapon he desperately needed. He could see it, every detail of it, every gear, every bolt in the augmented reality interface only he could see.

The student lunged, a roar escaping his lips, and Ethan felt a click in his mind. The gun was ready. The nuclear reactor inside him churned, converting raw elements around him into the desired form, creating a pistol and live ammunition out of thin air.

The time seemed to slow down as the student bore down on Ethan. And then, with a swift, practiced motion, Ethan whipped out his newly formed pistol, aiming at the student's leg. The deafening sound of a gunshot echoed through the forest, and the student went down, howling in pain.

"Who's weak now?" Ethan said, the sarcasm in his voice not disguising the cold determination in his eyes.

Ethan's silhouette loomed over the writhing figure below him. He coolly settled down on the injured student's chest, his mocking voice slithering through the silence like a hiss of a serpent. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he sneered, the edges of his lips curling upwards in a contemptuous smile.

As the boy whimpered below him, Ethan pressed the cold, metallic rim of his pistol against the student's quivering lips, cutting through his desperate pleas. "You know, I'd love a bit of peace and quiet. You wouldn't want to disturb that now, would you?" he asked, the threat thinly veiled behind his saccharine words.

In a panic, the student began to spill, spouting confessions about his old bullies' plan to finish Ethan off for good. He stammered out information about a lurking assassin whose crosshairs were now trained on Ethan. His words were frantic, desperate, each one a bid for mercy in the face of the unwavering menace.

Ethan's grin faltered as the confession unfurled, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of rage ignited in his eyes. With a swift, merciless tug of his finger, he silenced the informant once and for all. The echo of the gunshot reverberated through the still forest, a chilling reminder of the ruthlessness of survival.

***

The chill of the night was settling in, but beneath the inky curtain of darkness, a sinister pact was being formed. Three figures huddled in an isolated clearing, their silhouettes backlit by the faint glow of a solitary lantern. Their faces were obscured by shadows, but their identities were far from inconspicuous - the favored sons of a prestigious benefactor of the academy.

Around them, stood imposing men in black robes, their menacing figures exuding an aura of grave danger. These men were assassins, summoned from the darkest corners of the underworld to deliver an ultimatum of death.

One of the students, the eldest of the trio, stepped forward, the lantern light glinting off the silver crest adorning his jacket. He handed over a picture to one of the hooded figures, a youthful face captured within the worn frame - Ethan's face.

"Bring him alive," he instructed, his voice smooth yet steely. His lips stretched into a grim smile as he added, "We want the pleasure of executing him with our own hands." His words sliced through the silence of the night like a knife, echoing with an air of palpable malevolence.