Taking down the stone-faced leader was no easy feat.
Shawn stood over the broken terrain, chest heaving, his limbs trembling—not from fear, but from sheer exhaustion. Lifeblood, his secret weapon, had lost its edge. Its rejuvenating power, so mighty in the beginning, had faded into a whisper. The reservoir was nearly dry. Now, it offered only flickers of strength, barely enough to keep him standing.
But even so, he stood.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His ribs felt cracked. His legs were barely obeying him.
But the battle wasn't over.
Not yet.
Because standing across the ruined glade was the last of the trio—the true monster.
The Lightning Freak.
His body was bathed in a storm of white lightning, arcs flashing and dancing wildly around him like mad spirits. The air itself screamed with static. Heatwaves shimmered around his form, warping the very space. His eyes… no longer human. Just pure light. Blinding. Terrifying.
The pressure that this freak exuded was suffocating.
This was no longer the same man from earlier.
He had ascended.
And Shawn? He was outmatched.
Faster. Stronger. Tougher.
Shawn clenched his fists, fighting the tremor crawling up his arms. He had fought many battles. Died once already. But this… this felt like the end.
Unless he used the one thing he still had left.
His mind.
A genius in his past life, his brilliance had earned him countless awards and accolades. Strategic thinking, rapid calculations, intuition—it was all still there, buried beneath the blood and fatigue. If brawn couldn't win this war, then the brain would.
Use his flaw.
The lightning freak was furious. That much was clear.
Emotion was a weapon—and a weakness.
If Shawn could survive long enough, bait him, make him slip, then maybe—just maybe—he could strike.
The lightning freak finally spoke, his voice like thunder cracking through storm clouds.
"I see… You're strong. Killing the leader? Impressive. But you're no match for me. I'll burn you alive—hell's flame will feel like a candle beside what I'll do to you."
His lips curled into a sadistic smile. "You will not survive."
And with that, he lifted both hands.
A surge of white lightning erupted from his body like a supernova. Arcs of power leapt from tree to tree, setting the forest ablaze. The ground turned molten in places. Rocks cracked from the heat. Shawn was forced to leap back, shielding his face with his arms as the pressure wave rolled through.
The air temperature spiked. Oxygen thinned.
Shawn cursed under his breath.
"He's smart," Shawn muttered, eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield. "He's heating the air. Wind moves slower in heat—he's countering my elemental advantage."
His breath came ragged now. "Ela, we're screwed. I don't think I can beat him. I'm not even sure I can escape."
He waited for her calming voice.
But for once… Ela was silent.
"I… I don't know either," she admitted. "This isn't just power. He's adapting. Fast."
A long silence followed.
Then Shawn gritted his teeth, blood trickling down his chin. His gaze lifted to the lightning freak, who stood surrounded by a dome of crackling destruction.
"I've already died once," he whispered. "This life is borrowed. But my mom—she's still out there. Rian… he'd kill me if I died now. I made a promise."
He took a slow step forward.
"I'm not giving up. Not yet."
He planted both feet into the scorched earth, wind circling around him in defiance of the heat. Every cell in his body screamed in protest, but his will was stronger. He forced the wind to move, cutting through the searing air.
The lightning freak cocked his head. "Still trying?"
Then he vanished.
CRACK!
A bolt of lightning slammed into the ground where Shawn had stood—no, where he used to stand.
He had leapt upward, twisting mid-air as his instincts kicked in. The enemy reappeared behind him with a spear of condensed lightning in hand, thrusting forward like a comet.
Shawn parried—barely.
The wind wrapped around his arm like a gauntlet, deflecting the blow just enough to avoid a fatal hit. Still, the impact sent him flying again, crashing through a burning tree and skidding across the ground.
His vision blurred.
But he rolled back to his feet.
His limbs were slow, heavy. Each step felt like dragging lead through fire. The leader's death had cost him more than he'd thought—blood, energy, and precious seconds.
Now, he stood before a monster.
The Lightning Freak wasn't the same man from before. His white lightning had grown vicious, erratic, burning the very sky above them. The air shimmered with pressure. The very earth beneath their feet had begun to glass over from the heat.
Shawn gritted his teeth, feeling his lifeblood whisper inside him, barely flickering. His healing factor ticked on passively, closing wounds slower now, trying to keep pace with damage it couldn't keep up with.
His opponent?
Unscathed.
"You're weaker than I thought," the freak finally spoke, voice coated in disdain. "The fact that you beat our leader makes me question his strength… or maybe you just got lucky."
The freak raised his arm, lightning dancing from his fingertips like vipers.
"Let's test your luck again, shall we?"
And then he vanished.
Shawn didn't see the movement—he felt it. A pulse in the air. A shift in pressure.
Then— impact.
A bolt of raw lightning slammed into his side like a battering ram, hurling him backward. He crashed through a half-melted tree, skidded across the scalding earth, and rolled to a stop with a groan.
Pain lanced through every nerve. His skin blistered. His vision blurred.
Move. You have to move.
He forced himself up.
"You have a flaw," Shawn spat blood. "Your rage blinds you."
The freak appeared again in front of him, arms crossed, unconcerned.
"Do you think intelligence alone can save you?" the freak said with a cruel smirk. "This is not chess, boy. This is power. And my rage strengthens my lightning more, so you are out of luck."
Shawn charged. Wind exploded around him like coiled serpents. He twisted, dipped, and spun—a masterclass of aerial movement. He sent compressed wind blades flying. He used air currents to boost his speed and drop his body temperature, trying to resist the heat.
Every tactic. Every lesson. Every drop of ingenuity.
He even faked a stumble, baiting the freak into lunging, only to redirect a burst of wind into his leg, twisting the angle of impact.
The counter-attack landed—a direct hit to the side of the freak's neck.
It did nothing.
The freak didn't even flinch.
He grabbed Shawn's arm mid-spin and slammed him into the ground like a ragdoll.
Crack.
Something broke—Shawn didn't know what.
Lightning flooded his body.
White agony.
The world went silent.
Then a voice. Ela.
"Shawn—get up! He's going to kill you!"
Shawn's body didn't move.
But his eyes… they did.
He remembered his mom.
Rian.
That promise.
Live.
With a roar, he forced his hand to move, generating a shockwave of wind to push himself away just as another bolt scorched the place his head had been.
He staggered, coughing blood, half his shirt gone, skin blackened in places.
"You're still standing?" the freak muttered, more amused than angry now. "Impressive."
Shawn raised a trembling hand, barely able to keep it steady.
"I won't… die here…"
The freak's smile faded. "Then I'll make sure you do."
He raised both hands.
A sphere of lightning formed between them—compressed, focused, vibrating with annihilating force.
"Goodbye."
He launched it.
Shawn didn't have time to dodge.
The impact hit him dead center.
Everything went white.
His scream echoed through the heavens.
The force blasted him backward. His body twisted unnaturally, crashing into stone, rolling lifelessly until he finally hit a tree—and stopped.
Smoke rose from his body.
He didn't move.
Not a twitch.
The lightning freak stood still, breathing hard, watching the body.
Shawn was burnt, and his bloodline was the only thing keeping him at the door of death.
Then—the freak stepped forward.
"I told you. You're not—"
"Enough."
The voice cut through the chaos like a blade through silk.
It was calm. Unhurried. Ancient.
The freak turned.
From the shadows of the burning trees, an old man walked out.
Simple clothes. Wrinkled face. Bald head. Bare feet.
No aura. No vitral. Just presence.
His presence brought silence in the forest.
Recognition flashed in Shawn's barely-conscious mind.
The old man who fed me. Gave me clothes…
The freak narrowed his eyes. "Who are you supposed to be? Another hero? No strength. Get lost—unless you want to end up like him."
The old man sighed.
"You're bullying children," he said, eyes never leaving the freak. "And making a mess of this forest. Can an old man not enjoy his vacation with his grandchild?"
Lightning crackled around the freak again. "You'll regret this, old man."
He charged.
Mistake.
The old man took a single step forward.
And punched.
A single strike.
No lightning. No wind. No elemental surge. No vitral.
Just raw, absolute strength.
The moment his fist connected, the freak's entire body bent, the air around them imploded from the shockwave.
A second later—
The freak went flying, bouncing off the earth like a skipping stone before slamming into a boulder—and staying there.
He didn't rise.
Didn't twitch.
Didn't breathe for a while.
The old man didn't move again. Just stood there, staring at the unconscious freak.
"Too flashy," he muttered, brushing dust from his palm.
He walked over to Shawn, knelt down, and examined him.
"Still breathing. Good lad."
Shawn's mouth moved faintly. "You… who are…"
The old man chuckled.
'You need not to know. I am just an old man with a granddaughter and we are camping in this forest. " he said gently, lifting Shawn like he weighed nothing.
Feeling tired and wasted, Shawn passed out.
The old man began walking away from the scorched battlefield, muttering to himself, "Burning trees. Lightning tantrums. What a noisy bunch these kids are."
Behind him, the freak groaned softly, still out cold.