It has been a month since I arrived in mutant town or M-Town as the locals like to call it.
Life in Mutant Town has been... humbling.
I thought I knew what it meant to struggle. Back home, I grew up poor — skipped meals sometimes, wore second-hand clothes, and worried about how the next bill would get paid. But that wasn't real hardship. Not like this.
In my old life, I was still part of society — still protected by it. There were food banks, shelters, and hospitals. There were teachers who cared, neighbours who helped, and police who'd show up if you were in trouble. Even at my lowest, I was never truly alone.
Mutant Town doesn't have those things.
Out there, in the rest of New York, this place is nothing more than a cautionary tale — something you whisper about to your kids when they misbehave. The media paints Mutant Town as a cesspool of crime and violence, and while that's not entirely wrong, they never bother asking why.
The governments practically abandoned this place.
I've seen streets riddled with potholes so deep they could swallow a car tire. Garbage piles up in corners because no one sends the sanitation trucks anymore. Electricity cuts out almost every other night, and when the lights do come back on, the power lines flicker and spark like they're moments away from catching fire.
Clean water? Forget about it. Most taps run brown or stink of rust, so people make do with old filters or whatever bottled water they can scrape together. I've seen fights break out over a case of bottled water. Water. That's how desperate things are here.
And when someone gets sick or injured, they're on their own. Hospitals won't take mutants unless they've got money up front — and most of them don't. So people rely on underground medics, guys working out of dirty apartments with old tools and questionable supplies. I've seen people limp around for days on broken legs. I've seen infections turn fatal because there's no medicine to stop it. There are some mutants with healer abilities but they charge so much you can forget about going to them.
Education's just as bad. The schools barely function, if they even exist. A run-down community center tries to teach the younger kids basic literacy and math, but most kids don't stick around long enough to learn. They're too busy trying to survive — running errands for gangs, picking through trash for something valuable, or just doing whatever they can to make a few dollars.
Crime's everywhere, but not in the way people think. Yeah, there are gangs — plenty of them — but they're less like criminal empires and more like desperate survivors fighting over scraps. They're not trying to take over New York — they're just trying to make it to next week.
And yet... somehow, this place still lives.
People here hold on with a kind of stubbornness that's hard to describe. They build their own communities, patch up each other's homes, and share what little they have. I've seen folks with barely enough food for themselves still offer a meal to a hungry neighbor.
The thing that sticks with me the most is the resilience — the sheer will to keep going.
There's this old guy named Tinhead — some kind of metal-plated mutant who clanks when he walks. He's half-blind and limps on a bad leg, but every day, He lets his friends cut of iron plates growing off him and sell them outside the M-town so they can sustain themselves.
Sure the plates grow back by night but it must hurt all the same every day.
And then there's Jazz.
He's been my guide since I arrived — always hustling, always talking. He knows everyone — their stories, their grudges, their struggles. He's the kind of guy who can make you laugh even when you're knee-deep in misery. He is a drug dealer who sells to everyone, even kids so he isn't a saint and he doesn't claim to be one but he still likes to check in around the community.
Jazz knows how this place works. He's got connections — knows which corners are safe, which alleys to avoid, and whose name you don't say out loud. He's been steering me clear of trouble since day one, but even he can only do so much.
One night, I found him sitting outside his apartment, face bruised and blood drying on his lip. He tried to laugh it off, said he "ran his mouth at the wrong guy," but I knew better. Someone had roughed him up — probably over something petty, like turf or money. Here, those things can get you killed.
I asked him why he kept risking himself for chump change or why kept selling drugs even though there are gangs out there. He just shrugged and said, "I do what I gotta do bro, ain't nobody coming to help us, no cops, no social security, no damm charity no nothing so I keep hustling."
I'm starting to see what he means.
This place isn't just broken — it's forgotten. The people here are treated like they're already dead, and that's dangerous. When people believe they have nothing left to lose, they start to act like it — and that's when things get ugly.
I know I can't fix this place. Not by myself. But... maybe I can make things just a little easier for the people here. Maybe I can give them something — hope, protection, whatever they need to keep going.
I used to think my power was just a tool — a way to fight or survive. But now... now I'm starting to think it can be something more.
I don't know what kind of person I'm supposed to be yet, but I know this:
I can't turn my back on these people.
Not now. Not after everything I've seen.
It hasn't been all bad though and marcus has been a major reason for it.
If you asked Marcus what he thought of himself, he'd probably say, "I'm just some guy,. Don't read too deep into it." But that's not true — not even close.
Marcus isn't the type to smile much or throw words of encouragement around like confetti. He's gruff, always scowling like the world's permanently pissed him off. But after a month in Mutant Town, I've realized that beneath that hard exterior is someone who's quietly holding things together.
It took a couple of days for him to warm up to me but after that he was nice enough. He didn't even ask about my height/body change after the whole God slayer enhancement.
Over the next few weeks, I found myself spending more and more time with Marcus. He never invited me over, but if I showed up, he'd just grunt, push a toolbox toward me, and tell me to hold something steady. He's been teaching me the basics — fixing generators, patching wiring, reinforcing old pipes. Stuff I never thought I'd need to know.
I didn't understand why at first, but I get it now — Mutant Town survives because people like Marcus make it survive. The city barely throws this place a bone. The power grid here is a mess — blackouts are common, and when that happens, it's people like Marcus who get the lights back on. He's the guy who fixes leaky roofs and clears blocked drains so families don't have to live knee-deep in floodwater. He patches holes in walls after mutant fights break out — not because anyone pays him, but because if he doesn't, no one else will.
He's the guy who replaces busted streetlights, who leaves patched-up shoes on doorsteps when some kid's walking around barefoot. There's a small park down the street — barely more than a patch of dirt and weeds — but Marcus fixed the rusted swing set and built a rickety slide out of old scrap. Kids flock there now.
When Mrs. Ramirez's roof caved in last week, Marcus showed up the next morning with wood, nails, and no patience for her protests. By sundown, her place was patched up. He didn't even stay for the 'thank you.'
"Ain't nobody else gonna do it," he muttered when I asked why he bothers.
That's the thing about Marcus — he doesn't help people because he expects gratitude. He does it because if he doesn't, things fall apart.
Marcus isn't the kind of guy to ask if you're okay — not directly. Instead, he shows up uninvited, acting like he's just passing through.
"You eating enough?" he'll ask, eyes never quite meeting mine. Or, "I heard some punks were causing trouble near your building. You good?"
Once, he dropped off a box of canned food and muttered something about "extras." When I pointed out that half the labels were scratched off, he just shrugged.
"Don't get picky now."
I caught jazz grinning like an idiot afterward.
*"Yeah," he said, "That's Marcus for ya. Guy won't say he cares, but you'll never go hungry if you're in his circle."
According to Jazz, they met a few years back when Jazz was fresh in town and had nowhere to go. He'd been scrounging scraps near an old building when some gang tried to jump him for it. Marcus showed up, knocked a few heads together, and dragged jazz inside.
"Didn't say a word to me," Jazz laughed. "Just tossed me a blanket and pointed to the couch like I was a stray dog."
Marcus kept him around after that — probably out of some stubborn sense of responsibility. He's never been much for words, but Jazz swears Marcus is the closest thing to family he's got.
"He acts like he doesn't care," Jazz once told me. "But trust me — if Marcus is watching your back, you're good."
My power hasn't been idle too this last month too.
Although the frequency of the dumps has dropped a lot they still happen.
The things I got though, have been random to say the least.
6-7 One Piece- Eternal Pose- An Eternal Pose is a special type of compass used in the Grand Line. Like a Log Pose, it records the special magnetic waves of a certain island within the Grand Line, allowing the user to know which way to go to arrive at their destination.
19-10 Superpower Wiki- Unique eyes - The trait for users that possess a unique set of eyes. Since the roll is mid AJ gets better eyesight.
8-3 Worm – Colony 15.4 – A old copy of chapter 15.4 of worm drops in front of AJ.
18-7 Elden Ring - Blue Cloth Cowl- Starting gear for the Warrior class. Cowl of a nomadic warrior. The blue color of its fabric symbolizes brisk waters, as fluid and flowing as the sword in the hand of its wearer. Wearer has better luck if he is wearing the cowl while leading a nomadic life
1-17- YUGIOH- Veil of Darkness- One time usable card, can cover an entire area under intense Darkness in which only the user can navigate, and all the other people inside it have their sense disrupted.
One week I got an compass which looked a lot like the eternal pose from one piece, another week I randomly found that I my eyesight had gotten even better since my god slayer transformation.
Another week a random copy of a chapter of worm dropped infront of me while I was showering.
Then I got a blue bandana type of cloth which I just threw in the trash.
Then just two days ago I got a YUGIOH card, expect this one was magical, it didn't have any flavour or card text but just the name veil of darkness.
I can use it to put an entire area under intense darkness until I wish to extinguish it and while inside it only I can navigate and function properly in it, kinda like grue from Worm.
All of this has been bittersweet for me but I have made no real progress in fixing anything so tonight I hope to take the first step to fixing this place.
I stepped out onto the rooftop of the tallest building in the area, the cold night air cutting through my clothes. The streets of M-Town sprawled beneath me — a patchwork of dimly lit alleys, flickering neon signs, and crumbling brick walls.
I pulled my balaclava over my face, blending into the shadows. My clothes were dark, worn, but effective. Not exactly superhero material — just some guy trying to do the right thing.
From my pocket, I pulled out my Digivice. With a flick, a red glow appeared, and Elecmon materialized beside me. His fur sparked faintly, his red mane puffed up from static.
"You sure about this?" Elecmon asked, his tail twitching. "I mean... you're strong now, but you're still you, y'know?"
"I'll be fine," I said, more to convince myself than him.
"Yeah, well... guess I can't stop ya," Elecmon muttered. "Anyway, I found somethin'."
"What'd you get?"
"Okay, so…" Elecmon puffed up his chest like he was about to unveil some grand discovery. "I hacked into the local police precinct!"
I blinked. "You what?"
"Relax, relax! Their firewall was barely there," he grinned smugly. "I think I could've broken in by sneezing on it."
"That's... still not great, man."
"Hey, I did it for a reason!" He flicked his tail. "I found some notes about a drug problem in M-Town. The cops started investigating," Elecmon continued, "but someone higher up shut it down fast. They barely managed to log a lead before they got pulled off the case. Some warehouse down south — that's where all the trouble's coming from. I uploaded the coordinates to your Digivice."
I nodded, but Elecmon's words had stirred something ugly in my mind.
"Yeah... I know what this is," I muttered.
"You do?"
I sighed and leaned against the edge of the rooftop. "There are three kinds of drugs floating around M-Town. First is the regular stuff — weed, coke, whatever. Jazz was selling that junk to get by."
Elecmon nodded along.
"The second's MGH — Mutant Growth Hormone," I continued. "It's powerful, but it's coming from Hell's Kitchen — that's someone else's mess. But the third…" I clenched my fists. "The third is Kick."
"Kick?" Elecmon tilted his head. "What's that?"
"It's... bad," I said grimly. "It's a drug that amps up a mutant's powers — makes them stronger, faster, more dangerous. But it's toxic as hell. It fries their bodies and wrecks their minds. I've seen people tear apart their own friends after taking it."
"Why would anyone want that?"
"Because when you've been abandoned, when you're trapped in a place like this... power feels like the only way out."
Elecmon shifted uncomfortably. "So… this Kick stuff's comin' from that warehouse?"
"Not just the warehouse," I said. "It's coming from Sublime."
"Sublime? Who's that?"
I exhaled slowly. "It's not a person — not exactly. Sublime's... a sentient bacterium. It's ancient — been around since life began. Its whole goal is to manipulate and control intelligent beings — to wipe out anything that threatens its dominance."
Elecmon's fur fluffed up in alarm. "Wait… wait, bacteria?"
"Yeah," I said. "It doesn't infect people like a disease — it influences them, whispers in their heads, makes them act on their worst impulses. Mutants? They're the biggest threat to Sublime's control, so it targets them the hardest. Kick isn't just a drug — it's Sublime itself, bottled and aerosolized. When mutants inhale it, they're not just getting high — they're becoming part of Sublime."
Elecmon's face fell. "That's... messed up."
"Yeah. It's bad enough that M-Town's been left to rot, but Kick's making things even worse. When mutants take it, they become violent — paranoid, uncontrollable. That's why the government didn't bother helping. They saw M-Town turn into a war zone, and instead of stepping in, they wrote this place off as a lost cause. He wants to create a negative image of mutants so that he can run programs that are specifically aimed at eliminating mutant population"
Elecmon's sparks flared angrily. "That's... that's horrible!"
"That's why Kick's so dangerous," I said. "People are desperate. Some mutants take it just to feel strong, to stop feeling powerless for a few hours. But it always ends the same way — overdoses, burnouts, or worse."
Elecmon's tail flicked anxiously. "So... what's the plan?"
I clenched my fist. "First step — I'm finding that warehouse. Whoever's running this mess... they're going down."
Elecmon gave a firm nod and hopped back into the Digivice.
The glowing screen flickered to life, marking a path through M-Town's crumbling streets. I took a deep breath, adjusted my mask, and sprinted forward.
The city blurred past as I leapt from rooftop to rooftop, muscles pumping with newfound strength. The Fire God Slayer boost had completely reshaped what I could do. The copper form had been powerful, sure — but this? This was on another level.
I scaled a fire escape in seconds, vaulted over a billboard, and soared across a 15-foot gap between two roofs. My muscles felt like they were on fire — but in a good way. I felt fast, strong... unstoppable.
For a moment, I let myself enjoy it — the wind in my face, the city flashing beneath me. This was freedom.
I pushed myself harder, my legs pumping with newfound strength. The Fire God Slayer boost had completely reshaped my limits. Before, in my copper form, I could barely lift 600 or 700 kilos. Now? Twenty tons didn't seem impossible. My speed had skyrocketed too — I knew I could push past Mach 1 if I really let loose.
I reached a rooftop overlooking the warehouse, crouching low as I surveyed the area. Even from a distance, it was clear this place wasn't just some ordinary storage facility — this was a fortress.
The location itself was smart — tucked near the river's edge with only one real point of entry. An open yard surrounded the building, offering no easy cover for anyone trying to sneak in. Armed men paced the perimeter, each one carrying M16 rifles, their faces hard and vigilant.
The windows were blacked out, giving no clue as to what was inside, but the constant movement of vans — even this late at night — told me this place was far from quiet. Each vehicle was checked thoroughly, with guards flashing lights under the wheel wells and inspecting the drivers like they were expecting trouble.
The patrols were tight, moving in pairs, checking in with each other through their earpieces every few minutes. Worse still, security cameras watched from nearly every corner, their fields of view overlapping like a web. From what I could see, there weren't many blind spots — if any.
This is going to be tricky...
I exhaled slowly, then reached for my Digivice.
"Elecmon," I whispered. "Can you tap into their radio frequency?"
He popped out in a flicker of red light, his fur crackling faintly with static. "Radio?" he asked, tilting his head. "I've never done that before, but…" He shrugged. "Lemme try."
With that, Elecmon vanished back into the Digivice. Moments later, the screen flickered to life, and I started hearing faint voices crackling through the speaker.
"Patrol Team 2AEK checking in with Homebird. Everything's normal. Over."
"Patrol Team H5RR checking in with Homebird. Checked out Van 23. Everything's normal. Over."
More voices followed — brief, professional, and constant. These guys weren't just standing around; they were actively scanning their surroundings, keeping sharp and disciplined. No lazy, half-asleep guards here.
This isn't going to be simple…
I leaned back against the wall, mind racing. I needed a plan. I could try creating a distraction to draw their attention away — or just brute force my way in. The musclehead option had its appeal, but there were too many of them, and I don't want to make a lot of noise.
Stealth's the best play... but how?
I clenched my fists, focusing on the pressure of my power building in the back of my mind — that familiar itch, like a loaded gun waiting to go off. If I was lucky, I could roll something useful.
I closed my eyes. The sound of dice rolling echoed in my head.
10-6 — God of High School — No Pain- A technique that was created by Na Bong-Chim to block the body system from feeling any physical pain by hitting pressure point in the heart. This allows the user to fight to the limit of their power without being hampered by pain from injuries. Since the roll is low the effect duration of the technique becomes 1 hour and the user experiences 125% pain at the end of hour.
The knowledge flooded my mind — a technique that involved striking a pressure point near the heart to temporarily block all pain. For one hour, I wouldn't feel a thing… but once that hour ended, I'd suffer a brutal backlash — my body would experience 125% of the pain I'd ignored, all at once.
Handy… but not what I need right now.
Still, I tucked the technique away in my mind — it could come in useful down the line.
Alright... no fancy powers for this one.
I pulled my balaclava tighter over my face, took a deep breath, and jumped down from the rooftop.
I kept my movements controlled, conserving my strength. As I fell, I kicked off a drainpipe, angled myself toward a fire escape, and pushed off it to break my momentum. My boots scraped against a ledge as I landed, crouched low to keep from making noise. I stayed low, pressed against the cold concrete wall as I watched the patrols cycle through their routine. The two closest guards walked past my hiding spot, rifles slung lazily across their chests. They muttered something about a poker game — completely oblivious to me lurking in the shadows.
Good...
Once they were far enough away, I moved — slow and silent, one step at a time. The damp night air clung to my skin, and the faint stench of stale garbage filled my nose. The gravel crunched softly under my boots, each step deliberate, each breath controlled.
Up close, the place looked even more fortified than I expected. The main doors were locked down tight with a reinforced steel bar — no chance I was breaking through that without a alerting the whole neighbourhood.
The side door? No better. Keypad lock, with a camera perched above it. If I tried anything, I'd be spotted instantly.
Think... there's gotta be a way in...
I scanned the building again. Most of the upper-floor windows were blacked out, but one — just one — had a faint crack in it, barely noticeable from the street. It was high up, but reachable.
That's my way in.
I stepped back and measured the distance. A clean jump, maybe fifteen feet up — nothing I couldn't handle now.
I exhaled slowly, feeling the warmth of the Fire God Slayer magic coil inside me. Not too much — just enough to sharpen my muscles, to let me move fast and light.
Here goes nothing...
I sprinted forward, driving my heel into the wall as I leapt upward. My fingers caught the narrow ledge below the cracked window, and I dangled there for a second, breath held tight in my chest. The brick dug into my fingers, but I forced myself to hold on.
Don't fall... don't fall...
I shifted my weight, curling my body upward and gripping the edge with both hands I dragged myself up.
It was old — the glass spiderwebbed with cracks — but it still looked sturdy enough to make noise if I smashed it.
Gotta be smarter than that...
I slipped a piece of cloth from my pocket, pressing it gently against the glass to muffle the sound. With my other hand, I curled my fingers into a fist and slowly — slowly — tapped against the weakest point.
Crack... crack... pop.
The glass splintered quietly, a few shards tumbling inside. I carefully reached in, flicked the latch, and pushed the window open just enough to slip through.
The room was dark — some kind of office, judging by the dusty desk and scattered papers. No computers though, so I didn't waste time poking around. I crouched low and moved toward the door.
Now comes the hard part...
I eased the door open just a crack. The faint glow of overhead lights spilled in, revealing a narrow hallway lined with crates and shelves. Footsteps echoed somewhere deeper inside — slow and heavy — a single guard on patrol.
I waited, listening to the rhythm of his steps.
Step... step... pause... turn... step... step...
The moment his back was turned, I slipped out.
Sticking to the walls, I moved between the shadows, weaving through stacks of cargo. The warehouse smelled like oil and stale cigarette smoke.
As I crept deeper inside, I spotted what I was looking for — a loading dock on the far side, packed with crates stamped with weird symbols. Some were marked with red "X"s . Others were sealed tight with reinforced steel bands.
That's gotta be the Kick supply...
I started checking the crates, but my foot hit something — a loose can that clattered across the floor.
"Who's there?!"
Shit...
A flashlight beam swept across the room. I flattened myself against a wall, heart hammering in my chest.
"Homebird, this is Patrol Unit 3RK," the guard barked into his radio. "I think we've got a rat inside. I'm gonna check it out."
This wasn't good.
I stayed pressed against the wall, heart still pounding from the close call. The guard's flashlight beam danced along the walls, sweeping dangerously close to my position. He muttered something under his breath, clearly annoyed, before turning back down the corridor.
I waited — counting the seconds, letting him put enough distance between us before moving again.
Alright... slow and steady...
I tapped my digivice, and Elecmon's voice crackled softly through the speaker.
"Yo, AJ... you good?"
"Barely," I whispered. "I need your help. I'm inside now can you find me a computer or something I can use?"
"On it!"
He disappeared back into the digivice, no doubt scouring whatever unsecured networks he could sniff out.
In the meantime, I crept further into the warehouse, moving between the shadows. The crates and shelves worked in my favor, giving me plenty of cover. I spotted two more guards patrolling near the loading dock, rifles slung lazily across their backs.
I can't take them both head-on... need to isolate them...
I grabbed a loose wrench from a nearby toolbox and chucked it down the far end of the corridor. The metal clanged loudly as it hit the floor, and both guards snapped to attention.
"You hear that?" one muttered.
"Yeah... sounded like it came from over there."
They moved toward the noise — exactly what I wanted. As soon as their backs were turned, I circled behind them.
I crept up on the first one — the shorter of the two — and slipped my arm around his neck, squeezing hard. His body jerked in panic, but I clamped down tight until his struggles slowed, and he slumped silently to the floor.
The second guy barely had time to notice his missing partner before I lunged at him from behind. One sharp strike to the back of his head, and he dropped like a sack of bricks.
Two down... who knows how many more to go.
Before I could dwell on it, Elecmon's voice buzzed back to life.
"Found one!" he chirped. "There's a computer terminal two rooms down from you — looks like some kind of office."
"Nice work. Keep listening in on their radio, let me know if anything changes."
"Gotcha!"
I moved quickly now, knowing I was working against the clock. The office door was unlocked — a rare bit of luck. Inside, I found a cluttered desk, a half-empty mug of coffee gone cold, and a desktop computer humming faintly.
"Alright, buddy..." I muttered as I tapped the digivice. Elecmon materialized in a flicker of light, landing beside me in a crackle of static.
"Ooo, a computer!" Elecmon beamed. "I've been wanting to try this!"
"Just... be careful," I warned. "We don't want to trip any alarms."
He hopped onto the desk and placed a paw on the keyboard. His fur bristled with electricity, sending small sparks dancing across the keys as his data-based nature took over. The screen flickered for a moment before rows of folders and documents began flashing rapidly.
"Whoa... this place's got tons of stuff!" Elecmon grinned. "Lemme see... shipping records... customer lists... oh, this one's encrypted!"
"Can you crack it?"
"Pfft, easy."
His fur flared brighter, and a few seconds later the encrypted files popped open like a tin can.
"Bingo! Got ourselves some juicy intel!"
"Good. Start copying everything you can," I said, sliding a flash drive out of my pocket.
Elecmon's expression shifted — his usual playful grin gone.
Elecmon gave a firm nod, then focused back on the computer. His sparks flared as the files copied over to my flash drive.
Suddenly, his fur bristled even more. "Uh... AJ...?"
"What?"
"One of those patrol guys just said something about 'backup.' Someone called for extra muscle... and they're close."
Damn...
"Finish the download — I'll handle it," I said, turning toward the door.
I walked out the room and saw that a bunch of guards rushing towards our room, damm must have tripped some sort of motion sensor.
Having no option I jump into the fray, the guards open fire on me immediately.
The bullets sting a little but don't really damage me so I punch the lights out of each guard one by one holding my strength back to make sure I don't really kill anyone.
I take care of them easily but soon the guards stop rushing in, and are just standing back with guns pointed at me.
I don't have a chance to wonder why because my advanced hearing picks up some type of projectile coming at me with great speed and as soon as I turn around something crashes into me with a loud bang and I get thrown into the wall and some of the bricks fall on me.
I reorient myself and come out of the rubble and when the smoke clears standing in front of is a large heavily muscled man with pale, almost chalk-white skin. He is wearing sunglasses and a bandana, giving him a rough, mercenary vibe and one of his arms is turned into a gun.
I immediately knew who he was, Marshal Stone III or Random as he likes to go by, a mutant mercernary who's entire body is composed of a malleable protoplasmic substance that transform his forearms into guns and other weapons, he can heal quickly too and the cherry on top he has adaptable physique which counters his opponent's ability.
He definitely won't let me do my own thing from the looks of it.
He stood there, towering over the guards with his arm still shaped like a bio-organic cannon. Smoke drifted from the barrel, and his sunglasses reflected the dim warehouse lights. He shifted his stance casually, like he wasn't the least bit concerned.
"Yeah... I figured that wouldn't put you down," he drawled, his voice deep and gravelly, "Still, had to check."
He flexed his arm, and the gun melted back into a muscular limb. Bits of hardened bio-matter flaked off as the arm reshaped itself into a massive, spiked mace.
"Now…" He rolled his neck, cracking it loudly. "You're gonna tell me what you're doin' here — or I'm gonna turn you into pavement paint."
"Not here to chat," I shot back.
"Yeah?" He smirked. "Neither am I."
Random surged forward faster than I expected — way faster for someone his size. His mace-arm swung wide, and I barely ducked in time. The spike-covered limb smashed into a metal shelf, reducing it to twisted steel and scattering debris everywhere.
I countered with a quick jab to his ribs, but it barely phased him. His skin hardened on impact, absorbing the blow like it was nothing.
"Cute," he muttered, grabbing me by the front of my hoodie and slamming me into a nearby wall.
The air shot out of my lungs, but I pushed through the pain, shifting my weight and twisting his arm behind his back. His skin rippled again, the mace melting into a flexible tendril that coiled around my arm like a python.
"Oh yeah," he grinned, "I adapt."
With a jerk, he flung me across the room. I crashed into a pile of crates, wood splintering under me.
"Look, man," I coughed, staggering to my feet, "I don't wanna fight you."
"Funny," he shot back, his arm reshaping into a jagged blade. "'Cause I'm havin' fun."
Deciding holding back wasn't gonna achieve anything I let magic fill me up. The organ near my heart started magic throughout my body like crazy and I felt a rush of strength like never before.
In a blur I appeared behind Random and kicked him right in his spine sending him crashing out of the warehouse.
I followed him out and asked "You wanna keep playin'?".
I saw him get back up, his teeth grinding against each other. He looked downright furious.
His fist turned back into the gun and fired back at me, me being faster was able to dodge it easily.
The longer this fight went on the more attention I will draw so I need to end things fast, time to pull out the big guns.
I slowly mutter my incantion " By embers dark and flames that writhe, Let searing crescent blaze forth and thrive —Fire God's Scythe!"
In my arms a large black Scythe made up of blazing black hot flames forms.
I haven't really used these spells other than when I practiced with them alone so I need to careful not to put too much or too light magic into them.
Seeing my Scythe Random too turns his arm into a blade with a grimace and rushes at me with more speed than he did previously.
Our blades clash and instead of clang I hear a sizzling sound of flesh burning against flame and random immediately backs off and I spot his skin immediately responds to my flame and turns darker, more rugged and scaly but no matter my flames are not common ones but weapons against the gods themselves so I again push ahead this time pumping them with more magic.
We clash once more and this time I am burn straight through his right arm and cut it off.
He falls to the ground in pain but my flames keep burning where the stump of his arm is, not letting him off at all.
He gets back up and creates some distance between us and turns his other arm into a blade and cuts off his burning arm off at the shoulder.
He is panting and sweating quite badly but I can his arm slowly start to regenerate.
" Do you want to keep going or wanna move aside and let me do my thing"
Random gritted his teeth, his breath ragged but steady. His arm, or what was left of it, was already beginning to bubble and reform — pale tendrils of his protoplasmic flesh stretching and knitting themselves back together. He staggered slightly, but the fire in his eyes wasn't dimming.
"You got two choices," he growled, flexing his half-reformed arm. "You kill me — or I keep comin'. Don't matter how many times you cut me down, I finish my contracts."
I clenched my fists, the flame scythe flickering in my hand like a viper poised to strike.
"Man... don't make me do this," I warned.
Random spat a glob of bio-matter onto the concrete. "I've been burned before," he sneered. "Didn't stop me then, sure as hell won't stop me now."
He surged forward again, faster this time — adapting even more. His bulk moved like a freight train, the jagged blade-arm lashing out at my throat. I ducked, but he twisted his arm mid-swing, the blade curling like a whip.
It slammed into my shoulder, digging in deep enough to leave a gash even through my skin.
Damn it, he's learning.
I forced myself to stay calm. Every second I kept him busy was another second for Elecmon to finish grabbing data from the computer inside.
Stall. Stall. Stall.
Random came again, unrelenting. His other arm now reshaped into a sledgehammer, and this time I couldn't avoid it. The strike hit me square in the chest, sending me skidding across the pavement. My ribs ached, he was very strong.
I struggled back to my feet, coughing out smoke. Random was already closing the distance.
Alright… time to stop playing nice.
I let the scythe's flames flicker out and clenched my fists tight. My magic surged as I muttered the next incantation under my breath:
"Black flame of the forgotten pyre, rise and devour! Burn away the unworthy — Fire God's Bellow!"
I drew in a deep breath, feeling heat build in my chest — then unleashed it all at once.
A roaring torrent of black and crimson flames erupted from my mouth, engulfing Random in a cyclone of searing heat. The fire swirled violently, tongues of flame whipping and snapping like living serpents. The air rippled from the intensity, and the pavement beneath him started to blacken and crack.
Random's screams cut through the chaos — a guttural, pained roar that vibrated in my skull.
When the flames finally died down, he was face-down on the pavement, his body still steaming. His protoplasmic skin was charred and cracked, flaking away in thin layers like molten wax. His arm was half-reformed, but whatever resilience he had wasn't enough to keep him conscious.
I staggered over, breathing hard. "Told you... you should've stepped aside," I muttered.
I was barely steady on my feet, the adrenaline starting to crash when Elecmon's voice crackled from the Digivice.
"Hey, AJ — I got the data! Download's done!"
"Perfect timing, buddy," I said between breaths. "I'm almost done here too."
I took a shaky step forward and glanced back at the warehouse. Random was still breathing — tough bastard — but he wasn't getting up anytime soon.
Time for phase two.
I jogged back inside and found the Kick supply stashed in crates near the loading dock. The vials were packed tightly, like ammo in a war chest — enough to ruin half of M-Town if this stuff flooded the streets.
I saw that the warehouse was empty, looks like the other guards pulled out their teammates while I was fighting random.
I didn't waste any time.
I summoned a ball of black flame into my hand and hurled it at the stash.
" Fire God's Explosive Flame!"
The fireball exploded, engulfing the crates in black inferno. The vials popped like firecrackers, toxic chemicals sizzling as they burned away. The flames spread rapidly, licking up the walls and climbing toward the ceiling.
The warehouse's fire alarm screamed to life — loud, piercing, and echoing through the night.
I ran back outside, flames blooming behind me as smoke poured from the windows.
Random was still down, groaning softly as he tried to push himself up. I stood over him.
"Don't follow me," I warned. "Next time I won't hold back."
He just chuckled through the pain. "Kid… you better hope I'm the one that finds you next time. 'Cause if it ain't me... it'll be someone worse."
I didn't have time for threats. I turned and bolted, vanishing into the night as the glow of the burning warehouse painted the skyline behind me.