Truth

The Crucible trembled.

Troy's fist slammed into Starman’s jaw with a crack of kinetic energy, hurling him across the training field like a cannonball. He hit the ground with a thud that rattled the reinforced foundation beneath them.

Zoe screamed silently behind the pillar, hands over her mouth.

Starman didn’t get up right away.

Troy blurred forward in a streak of white-blue light, the wind snapping behind him. His boots struck the grass, then another punch, square into his father’s ribs, sending him tumbling again.

“You don’t get to shape her,” Troy spat, panting, fists glowing. “You don’t get to touch her future!”

Starman rolled to his knees, wiping dust from his face. No blood. No retaliation.

He looked up, breathing slow, steady.

“I won’t fight you, son.”

Troy roared and launched again.