hidden power

"Again," Edward commanded, voice calm but firm.

Chike groaned, hauling himself up from the cold floor. Six hours. Six long hours since he was tasked with taking Peter down.

At first, the challenge had been simple: defeat Peter. After thirty frustrating minutes of failure, the rules changed.

"Just land one hit," the old man had said.

It sounded easy. But Peter moved like smoke—unreadable, untouchable. Chike's eyes could barely track him. He suspected Peter was enhancing his speed and reflexes with Chi, but even that didn't explain the sheer grace of it.

Danger Sense—useless. It barely stirred because Peter didn't want to hurt him. So it dulled, leaving him with little more than guesswork and bruises.

A part of him hoped Danger Sense wasn't his true gift. If it was… he was doomed.

Still, he wasn't giving up. Not now. He clenched his fists, breathing through the ache in his limbs.

This time, I won't just land a hit. I'll make it count.

"You're too focused on the result," Edward called from the side, seated cross-legged near the fire. "It makes you predictable. Improve the process. Loosen your form. Observe."

He added after a pause, almost like an afterthought:

"Peter isn't even using his Chi yet."

Chike froze.

Not using his Chi? Then what in the world had he been up against?

He closed his eyes again, steadying his breath. He needed an edge—something other than brute effort. Then a memory fluttered into view: Déjà vu. That strange sensation. It had saved him once before.

What if it's not just a feeling?

Slowly, he let go of his conscious thoughts. He allowed the memory of Peter's previous movements to surface—not with logic, but instinct. Maybe if he could sense the patterns, predict the rhythm… he could finally—

"Coming again," Peter's voice echoed, low and firm.

Chike opened his eyes slowly, but shut them almost immediately. A flicker. A blur.

It felt like Peter had vanished—only a ghost of movement left behind. An after-image.

How can he be this fast without using Chi?

The boy's frustration flared. He felt his rage rising, the heat building within.

"Steady now," came a familiar voice—calm but edged.

Ofor.

"You can't access memories of foresight that way. What you call déjà vu," the spirit continued, "is actually foresight. And no—it's not your gift."

Chike exhaled through his teeth, but a faint smile touched his lips.

He had his teacher back.

Even though Ofor's tone still held irritation, his return was comforting. Like an anchor.

"Now listen," the voice resumed. "To access foresight, disconnect your eyes. You must see with your mind instead. It's tricky, but trust yourself—completely. That's the key."

Then, silence.

Typical Ofor.

Chike drew in a deep breath and charged again. Peter blurred, but this time—Chike followed.

Barely.

He could feel his body lagging, but his instincts surged forward. He began attacking where Peter would be, not where he was. His mind narrowed in on the delay—0.2 seconds.

If he could match that, even slightly, he might land a hit.

The air stirred.

Peter moved—fast.

But Chike moved faster than before, pushing himself, forcing his reflexes to catch up. His attacks came in waves, denying Peter room to counter. Until the man finally had no choice but to strike back.

Left feint. Shoulder drop. Spin around—

Chike ducked just before the move landed. He dashed forward, not letting Peter build power.

But he made a critical mistake.

He forgot Peter was already built.

Danger Sense flared.

He'd seen the move coming—even with foresight—but he wasn't fast enough.

The punch hit.

Hard.

He went flying. Slammed into the wall like a ragdoll, breath knocked clean out of him.

The only thing that saved him?

Peter had pulled the punch.

Edward smiled.

The last few moments of the boy's attack showed tremendous growth. He'd stopped instructing Chike an hour ago, wanting to see how far the boy's instincts would carry him.

And Chike hadn't disappointed.

"That's enough," Edward finally called out. "We'll continue tomorrow."

"No," Chike protested, panting. "One more time."

His legs trembled, but he pushed through the exhaustion. He was getting the hang of it. He'd seen Peter's last attack—just failed to anticipate it fully. Now, he understood the gap between them wasn't just strength. It was experience.

But he still had an ace up his sleeve.

From the way Peter moved, it was clear—he had no idea Chike possessed foresight.

Chike charged again, this time sloppier—a feint. The moment Peter reacted, he struck. Too slow. Not by much, but the window had narrowed.

0.1 seconds, his mind calculated.

Peter was definitely using Chi now. The weight of his attacks, the sharpness of his movements—it was no longer baseline strength.

Chike pressed on.

Each blow Peter threw was faster, heavier. Chike dodged narrowly—barely—but he could read them now. His body had grown quicker, his instincts sharper.

Then suddenly—fatigue.

His rage dimmed.

No matter how hard he pushed, the fire wouldn't rise again. He stumbled slightly. Peter's lips curled into a soft smile.

"You've reached your limit."

And before Chike could react, Peter vanished from view.

Blitz.

He was pinned. Peter's knee dug into his back, one arm twisted behind him.

"Yield," Peter said calmly.

Chike gritted his teeth. Pain spiked through his shoulder.

He didn't want to give up. Not yet. Not now.

"Use this," came Ofor's voice, sharp and commanding.

Suddenly—a raw burst of energy surged within him. A flame without fuel. Instinctively, Chike's body reacted—adapted.

The pressure in his arm shifted dangerously. He turned, releasing the wave toward Peter.

The man's expression faltered—he had let his guard down, confident the boy was spent. The blast knocked him off balance. Before Peter could recover, Chike twisted under him and exploded upward.

His fist launched forward like a cannon.

Peter blocked it—but too late, and not with enough force.

The hit connected.

Boom.

Peter was sent flying across the room. He hit the wall hard and crumpled, unconscious. All around them, the multiple doorways snapped shut at once.

Silence.

Edward stood frozen. His face pale.

"We've been discovered."