chapter 6
Chapter 6: Of Shadows and Flame
The City of Osiris — vibrant, colossal, and endlessly buzzing with life. But beneath its shine and noise, shadows always move. And today, they moved fast.
In the heart of the city, amidst the busy crowd, three men clad in black suits suddenly broke into a sprint. Their eyes darted nervously, sweat dripping from their brows. Panic clung to them like second skin. People turned, startled, parting the crowd as the men dashed past, knocking over street vendors and pedestrians.
They slipped into a narrow alleyway, a place choked by graffiti, shadows, and silence. But before they could catch their breath—BOOM!
A thunderous impact from the sky cracked the earth at the alley's entrance.
There he stood.
Mighty.
Rank 2 Hero.
Cloaked in a shimmering crimson and gold suit that fluttered behind him like a royal banner. His gaze was calm, calculating.
One of the black-suited men grinned. "There are three of us. Why are you alone?"
But before his smugness could linger, the air trembled. The walls of the alley began warping, twisting and contorting. The sky above turned to molten red. The ground flipped like a book page— gravity reversed, and the three men were separated instantly.
Mighty now stood in a shifting battlefield with one of them.
The man stepped forward, and his body morphed. Tattoos crawled across his skin like ink brought to life. His aura pulsed with malevolent energy.
He sneered. "You think you're a hero. But in my domain…"
He clapped his hands. "Eclipse."
Reality shattered.
The alley was gone. In its place — a twisted arena, floating platforms surrounded by a black void, red lightning cracking through the air. Towering statues of screaming faces circled them, and the air was heavy, thick with curse-like pressure.
"I am god here."
Mighty couldn't move.
His limbs were frozen in place by invisible chains of energy. The villain circled him, eyes glowing.
"You're in my arena now. I control gravity. I control pressure. I control time."
But Mighty smiled, closing his eyes.
He whispered:
"Mind… calm. Soul… clear."
Suddenly—FLASH!
He blurred from his position and reappeared behind the villain, his fist already connecting to the back of the enemy's skull. A shockwave shattered several floating statues instantly.
"Your world is a cage," Mighty growled. "And I break cages."
---
The Battle Begins
The villain surged forward, arms bursting into elongated blades of shadow and flame. He moved like a ghost with the fury of a storm, striking from all angles.
Mighty ducked under one blade, spun mid-air, and unleashed a punch infused with golden energy. The villain flew back but landed gracefully, then struck the ground—pikes of crimson energy erupted beneath Mighty.
He dodged, barely.
The fight escalated into pure chaos.
Mighty — known for his speed, strength,
He conjured blade-shaped curses from his fingers, summoned monstrous arms from his back, and manipulated the arena with terrifying control.
They clashed in midair, exchanging over a thousand blows in seconds. Cursed blades met energy punches. Blood splattered, rubble fell like meteors. Mighty's body cracked under the pressure, but he kept pushing. He yelled, powering up again—his eyes flaring with cosmic light.
The threat unleashed his domain's final form—a floating castle of illusions with cursed beasts attacking from every angle. But Mighty powered through them, one punch at a time, breaking through the beasts, tearing apart the castle.
With one final scream, Mighty soared into the sky and charged a punch wrapped in pure energy. "FOR PEACE!"
He slammed it into the Human Threat's chest. The arena shattered, reality snapped back into place—and the threat's body collapsed, fading into dust.
BACK TO THE CITY
The other two threats had entered a nearby school bus filled with children. One of them began levitating the bus into the sky. Children screamed. Civilians panicked. The second threat raised a blade to a child's throat.
As Mighty prepared to take off, a white blur dashed past him. A man in glowing white Superman-style clothes appeared out of nowhere. With one precise kick, the bus descended safely to the ground, untouched.
The man grabbed the threats and disabled them in seconds. The people cheered. Cameras flashed.
"It's Mr. Nice!" someone yelled. He smiled and waved as the crowd flooded toward him for autographs and pictures.
Mighty, however, quietly took off into the sky.
HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT
At the sleek hero headquarters, Mighty landed on the roof and walked in. A woman in a black suit with short silver hair approached him.
"Sir, more threats are appearing—and they're… unusual."
Mighty took the file from her hands, flipped through it, and said calmly, "Prepare the case. I'll handle it."
BACK TO ELI AND THE OLD MAN
In a thick, shadowy forest, Eli walked beside the old man. Trees loomed like silent guardians.
The old man said nothing at first. Then, with a heavy voice: "Yet you survived. And you're still standing. That's strength."
They began chopping wood. Eli carried heavy bundles on his back. The old man then vanished in the wind, leaving a challenge:
"Return home before sunrise. If you can do that, I'll train you."
Eli smirked. "Old hag thinks I didn't memorize the road."
THE TRAPS BEGIN
But the forest was a nightmare.
First, thin wire traps nearly sliced his ankles. Then, hidden pits opened beneath him with sharpened stakes at the bottom.
Eli dodged, limping forward. Poison darts shot from trees. Nets dropped from above. Mechanical wolves—traps enhanced with machinery—chased him under the moonlight.
Swinging logs with spikes, collapsing bridges, pressure-triggered explosions—it was endless.
He screamed as a dart grazed his arm. Blood dripped, pain pulsing through him. But he pressed on.
He finally stumbled into camp just as the sun set. The old man pretended to sleep. Eli collapsed, eyes drooping.
"You made it," the old man said. "Good. Your training begins… now."
THE BRUTAL TRAINING
Eli groaned. Exhausted, he now had to:
Wash plates endlessly.
Scrub the floor until his hands bled.
Clean clothes using rocks in freezing rivers.
Carry water up a hill in leaking buckets.
Whenever he cleaned an area, the old man dirtied it again. "Part of the training."
After a week, the real training began.
He ran through the forest daily, holding stones tied to his ankles.
He trained in areas where air was thin, forcing his lungs to strengthen.
He fought moving dummies that shot arrows. He practiced dodging blades in the wind.
He learned five basic combat stances:
1. Stone Stance – Heavy defense, ground-based blocks.
2. Wind Stance – Dodging and quick counters.
3. Fang Style – Aggressive and feral, close combat.
4. Echo Style – Using sound and misdirection.
5. Breath of Flow – Channeling energy with breathing.
He sat in cold rivers for hours, controlling his breath. He pushed boulders. Climbed cliffs with bare hands.
Each day, he got faster. Stronger. Sharper.
One day, the old man looked at him and said:
"You're improving. But your powers… they're still weak. Let's change that."
TO BE CONTINUED…