Growing Distances

The streets whispered the name of the vigilante once again. Hayato's return to the shadows, despite his injuries, was met with a surge of online appraisal. Videos of his nighttime rescues flooded social media—blurry clips of a masked figure moving with impossible speed, his attacks precise and ferocious. His swift takedowns of petty thieves, gang members, and corrupt officials alike sparked a wave of admiration.

People called him "The Lunar Hunter," a name born from his agility and wolf-like strikes under the moonlight. Forums debated his identity and motives, some claiming he was a trained martial artist, others convinced he was something more—something supernatural.

But for Hayato, it wasn't about the fame. This was his redemption. Every criminal he stopped was a step toward protecting those who couldn't defend themselves, a mission born from guilt and a promise to himself.

---

In the dojo, the air was thick with tension. Remond leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching as Hayato sparred with Master Ho Dieng. His movements were sharper, faster, more deliberate than before. The weeks of recovery hadn't dulled his edge; if anything, they'd refined it.

"Good," Ho Dieng said, his tone clipped but approving. "But don't rely solely on your instincts. Channel your focus. Feel your energy."

Hayato paused, his breathing heavy, and nodded. He closed his eyes, and the room seemed to shift. The air grew heavier, charged with an unseen force. Suddenly, a faint silver aura began to envelop him, his presence growing more imposing. His eyes snapped open, and for a brief moment, they glowed a bright, piercing silver.

Ho Dieng stepped back, raising an eyebrow. "Well, well," he said, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "It seems you've unlocked your Hatsu. Specialization type, as I suspected. Something… primal. A reflection of your inner strength."

Hayato looked at his hands, flexing his fingers as the aura dissipated. "What does this mean?"

"It means," Ho Dieng said, "that you're one step closer to mastering your true potential. Your powers now have a focus—a shape. But it's up to you to wield them wisely."

Remond, who had been silent until now, scoffed softly. "Great. Another weapon for your little crusade," he muttered under his breath.

Ho Dieng turned to him, his sharp eyes narrowing. "And you, Remond? Still content to sit on the sidelines, wasting your potential?"

Remond shrugged, his expression indifferent. "I told you before, I'm not interested. I'm not going to fight anyone. I don't want to, either."

"Ah, yes," Ho Dieng said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The noble pacifist. Tell me, does it take courage to deny what you are? Or is it simply fear?"

Remond's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. He turned away, staring out the window as the conversation moved on.

---

Experiments on Lu Shueng

Far from the dojo, in the cold, sterile depths of Lopart's facility, Lu Shueng's torment continued. His body was a battlefield, torn apart and rebuilt by the relentless experiments. The primal powers coursing through him were unstable, and Lopart was determined to perfect them, no matter the cost.

Lu Shueng lay strapped to a metal table, his body convulsing as another dose of the gray serum was injected into his veins. His screams echoed through the laboratory, a haunting symphony of agony and defiance.

"Fascinating," Lopart murmured, watching from behind the reinforced glass. "The serum's effects are evolving. His body is adapting, becoming stronger."

One of the technicians hesitated. "But sir, the subject's vitals are unstable. If we push any further—"

"Silence," Lopart snapped, his eyes never leaving Lu Shueng. "This is necessary. He's on the verge of becoming the perfect weapon. We can't stop now."

Inside the chamber, Lu Shueng's golden-veined skin pulsed with energy. His body arched against the restraints as his transformation deepened. The collar around his neck sparked, sending jolts of electricity through him, but he barely flinched. His mind, however, was another story.

Memories of his past flashed before his eyes—moments of triumph, failure, betrayal. And through it all, a single, unrelenting desire burned within him: freedom.

"You'll regret this," he growled, his voice distorted, barely human. "When I get out of here, I'll make you pay."

Lopart smiled, a cold, calculating expression. "If you survive, you'll thank me. If not, well… there's always the next subject."

---

A Nightmare Revisited

That night, Remond sat alone in his dorm room, staring at the small vial pieces of serum he'd kept hidden. Dr. Edwards' words still echoed in his mind: "Your powers were in your destiny."

He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I didn't ask for this," he muttered.

The door creaked open, and Sid stepped inside, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the two friends just stared at each other, the weight of their unspoken words filling the room.

Finally, Sid broke the silence. "You're wasting your time, you know," he said quietly. "Pretending you're not a part of this."

Remond didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the vial.

"You can't run forever," Sid continued. "One way or another, you're going to have to face it."

Remond looked up, his eyes hard. "Maybe. But not today."

Sid sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. But don't wait too long. The world won't wait for you to catch up."

With that, he turned and left, leaving Remond alone with his thoughts.

---

Time Marches On

Days turned into weeks, and life at the dojo continued. Hayato trained harder than ever, honing his newfound powers under Ho Dieng's guidance. His aura grew stronger, more controlled, a testament to his determination.

But for Remond, the path was less clear. He avoided the dojo whenever he could, burying himself in his studies and trying to ignore the growing sense of unease that followed him everywhere.

Deep down, he knew the truth: his destiny wasn't something he could escape.