Power and Precision

Jarek moved carefully through the ruined outskirts, his footsteps light against the cracked pavement.

The last fight had changed him. He could feel it.

His body moved more smoothly, his thoughts came quicker. But it wasn't enough.

The Titanfang had proven that.

Jarek clenched his fist. I need more.

Not just strength. Not just speed. I need both.

And the only way to get stronger was through blood.

Jarek perched on the edge of a collapsed freeway, gaze locked on the Mawhide Bull below.

Seven feet tall. Thick muscle. Jagged tusks curling from its lower jaw. Its hide was rough, scarred from past battles.

It wasn't the strongest thing out here—but it was more than enough for him.

Jarek exhaled slowly.

Strength. That's what this thing had. That's what I need.

He adjusted his grip on the steel pipe and dropped down.

Jarek hit the ground in a crouch, his landing barely making a sound.

The Mawhide Bull's head snapped up.

Its nostrils flared.

Then, without warning, it charged.

Jarek barely rolled aside before the beast crashed through a rusted car frame, metal shrieking as it collapsed.

His grip on the pipe tightened.

Durability. That was its strength.

But durability required energy.

Make it move. Make it burn itself out.

Jarek dashed left. The Bull pivoted, hooves grinding against the asphalt.

He darted right. The beast followed, but a second slower this time.

It's reacting, not predicting.

Jarek spun, planting his foot—and lunged forward.

The steel pipe struck behind its foreleg—right where the muscle was thinner.

The Bull bellowed, stumbling as pain shot through its limb.

Not enough. Again.

Jarek kept moving, striking again and again—the joints, the tendons, the weaker spots even armored beasts had.

The Bull's movements grew sluggish. Its weight worked against it.

Then it happened—its balance wavered.

Now.

Jarek rushed in—only for the Bull to lurch forward at the last second.

Too late to dodge.

Jarek twisted his body just in time—instead of taking a direct hit, the beast's massive head clipped his ribs and sent him skidding across the pavement.

Pain flared up his side, but he didn't let himself stop.

He rolled, regained his footing, and dove forward.

A final strike—driven straight beneath its jaw.

The beast collapsed.

Jarek climbed onto its neck, raised the pipe—and ended it.

[GENETIC INTEGRATION COMPLETE.]

NEW MUTATION ACQUIRED: "BRUTE'S MIGHT" (PHASE 1).

MUSCLE DENSITY +35%.

EXPLOSIVE POWER BOOSTED.

Jarek staggered back as his muscles tightened.

A rush of raw force settled into his limbs.

He flexed his fingers. His grip felt stronger.

When he shifted his stance, his body carried weight differently—like his core had been reinforced.

Jarek exhaled.

Good.

But it still wasn't enough.

A low clicking growl echoed through the ruins.

Jarek turned sharply, scanning the wreckage.

Something was watching him.

Perched atop a broken wall, its sleek form tense, was a Swiftfang Jackal.

Smaller than the Bull. Built for speed, not strength.

Its limbs were long and lean, its golden eyes locked onto him.

Jarek exhaled.

Perfect.

He stepped forward.

The Jackal reacted instantly—a blur of motion, claws flashing as it lunged.

Jarek barely twisted aside, feeling the wind from its strike graze his skin.

Even with his Striker reflexes, it was still faster.

Jarek adjusted his stance. Brute's Might made him stronger—but strength wouldn't catch this thing.

I have to make it commit.

He lowered his guard—just enough to make an opening.

The Jackal's muscles tensed.

It darted left, then right—then lunged for his exposed side.

Jarek moved to counter—but the Jackal feinted.

Shit.

Its claws raked his shoulder—not deep, but enough to sting.

Jarek barely avoided the follow-up bite, staggering back.

It's reading me.

He gritted his teeth. Fine. Let's gamble.

Jarek shifted his weight, adjusting his posture. Just a fraction. Just enough to make it think he was vulnerable.

The Jackal took the bait.

Jarek pivoted—swinging upward with everything he had.

His punch connected mid-air—bone cracked under his knuckles.

The Jackal crashed to the ground, dazed.

Jarek didn't hesitate.

He finished it before it could recover, its blood seeped into his frame.

[GENETIC INTEGRATION COMPLETE.]

MUTATION UPGRADED: "STRIKER'S REACTION" → "PHANTOM REFLEX" (PHASE 2).

REACTION SPEED +85%.

MOVEMENT PREDICTION ACTIVATED.

Jarek staggered, vision sharpening like a lens clicking into focus.

His perception shifted.

For a moment, he felt like the world slowed down.

It wasn't just reflexes. It was anticipation.

The subtle shifts in the air. The slight tensing of muscle before a strike.

He could see movements before they happened.

Jarek clenched his fists.

Every movement—every possible attack, every shift of weight—was clearer.

He adjusted his stance, and his body reacted instantly.

Jarek took a slow breath.

This… this was different.

Jarek stood over the Jackal's corpse, hands tightening.

He wasn't just collecting traits.

He was refining them.

Brute's Might gave him power.

Phantom Reflex gave him control.

And both of them could still evolve.

How far could he take this?

He looked down at his hands, flexing them experimentally.

Was this the limit?

Or was this just the beginning?

Jarek exhaled.

Time to find out.