Chapter 202

The Phoenix Dominion was a land transformed—its cities towering with impossible architecture, its people divided by the stark line between ability and the lack of it. Everywhere Alex went, the changes were both breathtaking and unnerving. Buildings that would have taken years to construct now rose in days, their designs bold and surreal. Towering spires seemed to defy gravity, connected by translucent walkways that shimmered in the sun.

Yet these marvels were fleeting. Battles between ability users often left the cities scarred, their proud structures reduced to rubble, only to be rebuilt just as quickly. To Alex, the Dominion was almost unrecognizable from the world he had known just a few years ago—before Malik's appearance, when the era of abilities had truly begun.

Non-ability users were regarded as little more than second-class citizens. Many clung desperately to the belief that they would awaken one day, joining the ranks of the elite. The Dominion had even institutionalized this hope, offering annual "Awakening Trials" to test latent abilities. These trials often ended in disappointment, with fewer than one in a thousand awakening. Yet, for the majority who left the trials still powerless, the dream persisted.

On the streets, this divide manifested in cruel ways. Non-ability citizens toiled in menial jobs, subject to abuse from ability users who saw them as inferior. But the Dominion was also chaotic—power was fickle. A powerless citizen, humiliated and beaten one day, might awaken the next and unleash their fury on those who had wronged them.

As Alex entered a sprawling marketplace in one of the Dominion's industrial cities, a commotion drew his attention. A burly man with the faint glow of an awakened physical strength ability loomed over a group of street vendors, his voice a low growl as he demanded payment.

"You think you can sell here without paying tribute?" he snarled, tossing a crate of fruit to the ground. "This is my turf!"

The vendors, all non-ability users, cowered before him. One of them, an elderly woman, clutched her cart protectively.

"Please," she begged, "we barely make enough to feed ourselves—"

The man didn't let her finish. With a sweep of his arm, he smashed the cart into splinters. "Not my problem."

Before Alex could intervene, a young man in the crowd stepped forward. He was thin and unassuming, but his eyes burned with anger.

"You've gone too far, Brock," the young man said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Brock sneered. "And what are you gonna do about it, Nate? You're just another powerless nobody."

But Alex sensed it—a shift in the atmosphere, a faint pulse of energy radiating from the young man.

Nate's fists clenched, and a sudden gust of wind swirled around him. "Not anymore," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

In an instant, the marketplace erupted into chaos. Nate, having just awakened to his abilities, unleashed a gale force wind that sent Brock tumbling backward. The vendors scattered, some cheering for Nate, others scrambling to avoid the fight.

Brock recovered quickly, his physical strength allowing him to anchor himself against the wind. With a roar, he charged at Nate, his fist glowing with raw power.

The clash was brutal and unrefined. Nate's wind abilities were wild and unpredictable, while Brock relied on brute strength to close the distance. Their battle raged through the market, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Alex watched from a distance, his expression unreadable. The fight was a microcosm of the Dominion's chaos—a place where the balance of power could shift in an instant, where vengeance and violence were a way of life.

Not all fights were between ability users. In the slums on the outskirts of the city, Alex stumbled upon a grim scene. A group of armed non-ability citizens had cornered a young ability user, their faces twisted with desperation and resentment.

"You think you're better than us just because you've awakened?" one of them spat, raising a makeshift weapon. "You think you can take whatever you want?"

The young ability user, barely more than a teenager, trembled as he tried to summon his power. A weak spark of electricity flickered around his hands, but it was not enough to deter the group.

"Please," he begged, "I didn't mean to—"

The leader of the group struck him across the face, cutting him off. "You didn't mean to what? To flaunt your power while we starve?"

Alex intervened before the situation could escalate further. With a single, precise movement, he disarmed the leader and dispersed the group with an aura of authority that left no room for argument.

"Enough," he said, his voice cold. "This isn't justice—it's just another cycle of violence."

The group hesitated, then retreated, muttering curses under their breath. Alex helped the young ability user to his feet, his expression softening.

In one of the Dominion's vibrant plazas, Alex found himself drawn to a crowd gathered around an ongoing battle. It wasn't uncommon for ability users to clash in public, often over perceived slights or the simple desire to prove their dominance.

At the center of the commotion was a fire manipulator, his flames swirling around him like a living entity. His opponent was a mentalist—a slim woman with an air of unshakable calm. She stood motionless as the fire manipulator launched a torrent of flames toward her, her eyes sharp and focused.

Alex watched, captivated, as the mentalist moved, he had once cultivated this path, even stimulated fights between himself and Malik the first ability user, so he knows the strength of the mentalist. Her movements were not frantic dodges but a series of deliberate, fluid shifts. She sidestepped the fire with an uncanny grace, each step almost like part of an intricate dance. The crowd gasped as the flames missed her by inches, her calm demeanor unbroken.

"Stand still!" the fire manipulator roared, frustration clear in his voice.

The mentalist offered no reply. Instead, she closed the distance between them with terrifying precision, each movement calculated as though she were ten steps ahead. The fire manipulator tried to strike again, sending a wave of fire crashing toward her. She ducked under it, spinning to his side, and swept his legs out from under him in a single fluid motion.

Alex could see the fire manipulator's frustration growing. He lashed out wildly, the flames growing hotter and more erratic, but the mentalist never faltered. Each of his attacks was met with a graceful evasion, and each of her movements carried her closer to victory.

In one final exchange, the mentalist stepped into his guard, her hands a blur as she delivered a precise strike to his wrist, forcing him to drop his guard. Before he could react, she twisted, throwing him to the ground.

The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers, some mocking the defeated fire manipulator while others applauded the mentalist's skill.

As the fire manipulator scrambled to his feet, anger flashed in his eyes. He raised his hands, flames roaring to life around him. It was clear he was ready to take the fight further, the rules of a simple spar forgotten in his rage.

Alex decided it was time to step in again. With a subtle flick of his fingers, he sent a surge of heat into the ground beneath the fire manipulator's feet. A burst of flame erupted from the earth, startling him and forcing him to stumble backward.

"That's enough," Alex said, his voice calm but firm.

The fire manipulator froze, his eyes scanning the crowd for the source of the sudden fire. Alex kept his expression neutral, giving no indication that he had been involved.

The mentalist, too, glanced briefly in his direction, her sharp eyes narrowing as though she suspected something. But she said nothing, simply turning back to her defeated opponent.

"You lost," she said coldly, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "Know when to stop."

The fire manipulator clenched his fists but said nothing. With a frustrated growl, he turned and stormed away, the crowd parting to let him pass.

As the crowd dispersed, Alex lingered in the plaza, his thoughts drifting to the state of the world. The Dominion was a paradox—a place of rapid advancement and relentless destruction.

He looked up at the skyline, marveling at the sheer scale of the new buildings. Spires that twisted impossibly high, their surfaces shimmering with advanced materials. Bridges and walkways that connected buildings in a seamless network, their translucent structures giving the illusion of walking on air.

But even as he admired the architecture, he couldn't ignore the scars of battle. Craters marred the streets, and scorch marks painted the walls of nearby buildings. The plaza itself bore the signs of countless fights, its surface cracked and uneven.

What amazed him most was how quickly these damages were repaired. He had seen a building crumble in one fight, only to be fully restored within a day. It was as if the Dominion had embraced its chaotic nature, designing its cities to be as impermanent and adaptable as the people who lived in them.

It was a far cry from the world Alex had known just a few years ago. Before Malik had appeared, society had been slower, more methodical. The rise of abilities had accelerated everything, for better or worse.