Give It Back — Part 2

Dark sparks splattered from the cut. Raven tensed up, but smirked.

"So, you are learning to improvise."

Jake stepped forward, this time with a different rhythm. It wasn't about raw speed anymore — it was about control. His moves flowed as if he were dancing with gravity itself, breaking away from the predictable angles of attack. He wove his starlit energy through spins, surging power from his heels and releasing it with surgical precision.

Raven began to step back. Not out of fear — but out of study. He watched him. Analyzed him. And then he spoke:

"Don't think you can figure everything out just through fighting…"

"Where were you, those days before the tournament, Raven?" Jake cut in, striking without pause. His fist skimmed past Raven's jaw, but his knee crashed hard into his stomach, forcing him to stagger.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

Jake shifted the pace again. He spun midair as if the fight were some kind of choreographed dance, then launched a downward kick from above. Raven raised both forearms to block, but the ground cracked beneath his feet from the force. Jake used the contact to push through, sliding along Raven's flank and locking onto his arm.

"Why did you leave, right when everything started? Why did you come back... like this?"

Raven let out a low growl.

"Because I realized everything I thought I knew... meant nothing. I needed more. I had to see it for myself."

"See what?"

"You wouldn't understand," Raven replied, breaking free with a burst of dark energy that hurled Jake back several meters.

Jake landed on his feet, skidding across shattered stone. His arm throbbed, but his eyes stayed locked onto his opponent.

"Then answer me this," Jake gritted his teeth. "Who's behind all of this? Was it just you?"

Silence. Raven hesitated. His jaw tightened. He didn't speak the name, but his eyes flicked to an empty space just beyond Jake's shoulder. As if, right there, in that unseen void, the shadow of the real mastermind lingered.

Jake understood. And it made him furious.

The fight pressed on. Faster. More violent. More precise.

They clashed like twin currents inside a storm. Blows sliced through the air, movements sketching lines into the space between them. Raven relied on refined techniques — his threads, his dark bursts, even jagged crystal shards formed from his own blood fused with energy. Jake countered with raw strength, fluid timing, and an uncanny ability to adapt mid-battle that even surprised Raven.

The hollow echo of Raven's footsteps cut through the plaza at an inhuman pace. His figure, stripped of any mask or restraint, stood wrapped in an unnatural stillness. A dry gust of wind swept dust between them. Jake drew a deep breath, feeling the air around him grow heavier, like it weighed tons. Time slowed for just an instant.

And then, Raven vanished.

An invisible friction ripped through the space. Jake barely turned his head before a shadow lunged at him. He threw himself to the side. The blow grazed past his shoulder like a searing scythe. The air whistled, compressed, and the stone slab behind him shattered under the force.

"Is he really trying to kill me?" Jake tilted his head, breathing hard, pulse thundering in his ears.

Raven's gaze didn't waver. With an unnatural twist, he struck again, this time chaining his moves: a spinning punch that sent dust spiraling into the air, followed by a sweeping kick that split the ground wide open.

Jake shielded himself with his forearms, but the force hurled him backward, crashing into a fallen column. The impact rattled his lungs, knocking the air from his chest.

"There's no holding back. This... this isn't a fight between old friends anymore," he thought, staggering to his feet, chest heaving.

Raven advanced with steady, effortless strides, as if his feet barely touched the ground. From his forearm, an irregular blade of obsidian and plasma extended, humming with a visceral, unstable pitch.

Jake tried to dodge, but the claw-like blade slashed down with surgical precision. He barely deflected it with his left arm, feeling the pressure burn deep into his muscles. His arm went numb, buzzing from the impact.

Raven didn't hesitate. He moved behind Jake and drove his knee straight into his abdomen. Jake doubled over, spitting out blood-tinged saliva, his vision flickering at the edge of consciousness. The force lifted him off the ground before he crumpled back down like a ragdoll.

"You should be unconscious," Raven said in a flat, mechanical voice, as if reciting an equation. He slowly raised his right hand, the gesture ritualistic, ready to strike the final blow.

"Damn you..." Jake growled through ragged breaths, forcing himself upright. Blood dripped from his chin, but his eyes stayed sharp and fierce.

"Why is he fighting like this? Why now, without pause, without doubt? He hesitated before... so what changed?" The thought pulsed in his mind as his body burned, muscles aching under torn skin.

Raven reached him again. This time, he grabbed Jake by the throat and lifted him effortlessly. Jake struggled, kicking out, but it wasn't enough. The grip on his windpipe was so precise only the faintest thread of air squeezed through.

"You understand nothing..." Raven whispered, but beneath his voice... there was something else. Guilt.

"Then talk to me, damn it!" Jake spat, veins pulsing in his temples from the lack of air. "If this is all about something bigger — then say it! Stop playing the elegant puppet!"

Raven's arm tensed. His other hand rose, aimed straight for Jake's skull, gathering energy.

And then — everything froze.

The hand remained poised. But unmoving. His fingers trembled, and the light in his eyes flickered, unstable. For a moment, Raven wasn't fighting Jake — he was fighting himself.

"What are you doing...?" Jake managed, vision blurry but senses sharp.

Raven's body began to shake, not from exhaustion — but restraint. As if something deep inside him screamed to keep him from crossing that final line.

"I can't... I can't do it," Raven murmured, barely a whisper. His arm dropped. Jake fell hard to the ground, clutching his throat, coughing as red marks bloomed across his skin.

"That hesitation... it was real. His own," Jake thought, spitting blood to the side, dragging himself upright, wavering but determined.

Raven stepped back. His face, usually unreadable, showed a subtle distortion at the corner of his mouth — as if something invisible hurt.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he finally said, voice low, avoiding Jake's gaze. His fingers tensed into fists. "I never wanted this. But... it's too late."

"Too late for what?" Jake asked, barely steady. "For redemption? To stop this madness? To reclaim who you were?"

Raven closed his eyes for a long, heavy second. The air seemed to hold its breath.

"For me... there's no way back. But you... you still have a choice."

And with that, he slowly turned his head toward Jake. His gaze was different now — not hate. Not pity. Just emptiness.

Jake steadied his breath, swallowing the pain.

"Then I won't stop," he said, raising his fists again, even as his battered body screamed for mercy. "Because if you can't... someone has to."

The plaza hung in suspended silence. Two figures. Two stories tangled together. And one of them, on the verge of breaking from within.