Isaac sprinted across the hangar floor as he made his way towards the massive hangar doors. When he reached them, he slapped his hand against the wall beside the doors, his essence flaring as he manipulated the controls. With a low hum, the doors slowly began to open, revealing the open space outside.

  Isaac turned, facing back towards the expanse of the hangar, and raised his hands. The hover vehicles began to hum to life, slowly lifting off the ground. They glided forward, making their way towards the open hangar doors.

  High above, in the upper half of the hangar, a battle raged on. Katherine and Barbara were locked in a fierce battle. Katherine, looking frustrated, thrust out her hand and unleashed a lightning blast at Barbara. The crackling bolt of energy hit Barbara head on, sending out a deafening sound that reverberated throughout the hangar.

  But Barbara simply shrugged off the blast, her eyes narrowing as she charged forward, plowing through the lightning and rocketing towards Katherine. The stone-like beast closed the distance, her sharp claws reaching for Katherine.

  Katherine dissolved into mist, her body turning into wisps of cloud just in time to let Barbara pass straight through her.

  She materialized further up, flying higher to create more distance. But Barbara was relentless, twisting in the air and immediately giving chase.

  Katherine scowled. She lifted her hand again, aiming carefully, and sent another jagged bolt of lightning straight at Barbara. The strike hit its mark, arcing violently across the beast’s body. But Barbara hardly reacted.

  Katherine’s frustration grew. Barbara was invincible in her beast form.

  Katherine darted to the side, dodging another attack, and clenching her teeth in frustration. Her essence was quickly running low, and she had to make a decision if she wanted to keep using her embodiment.

  Katherine hovered in the air, her silver hair billowing as she extended her hands out to the sides. Sparks crackled along her fingertips, snaking up her arms as she pulled lightning into her body. The very air around her tingled with electricity, and the overhead lights flickered wildly, struggling against the sudden surge of power.

  Below, all eyes briefly turned upwards as the energy in the air became almost unbearable.

  Barbara, undeterred, let out a guttural growl and shot forward again, her stone wings blasting her toward Katherine with terrifying speed.

  Katherine narrowed her glowing eyes.

  Then, with a sharp exhale, she threw her hands forward and unleashed a devastating lightning strike.

  The blinding bolt tore through the air, striking Barbara head-on. The impact sent out a deafening crack, followed by a violent explosion of light and sound. Barbara was blown backward, her form sent crashing through the air, and near the entry staircase.

  Katherine, still hovering in the air, exhaled sharply before descending. As her feet touched the ground, her form unraveled—her flowing cloud-like garments faded, her silver hair darkened back to black, and the ethereal energy that surrounded her dissipated. She huffed a few deep breaths, feeling tired but at least she wasn’t all out of essence.

  Her gaze flickered toward Barbara, who was already stirring. The beastly woman rose, her body tense with rage. Across her chest, a blackened scorch mark marred her previously impenetrable skin. Her eyes burned with fury as she snarled, flexing her claws.

  Katherine clenched her teeth and cursed under her breath. She needed more time—if she could stall just a little longer, she could gather enough essence to re-enter her embodiment and unleash a decisive attack.

  But then a shadow appeared at the top of the stairway.

  Katherine’s eyes widened for a split second before her expression hardened. Standing there, composed and unwavering, was the warden.

  His hands were clasped behind his back, his sharp gaze sweeping across the hangar like a judge overseeing an execution. He looked down at Barbara with a cold, dispassionate glare.

  "Why," he asked, his voice smooth but laced with contempt, "are you having trouble against an inmate?"

  Barbara growled, her beastly voice rasping, "Be quiet. Katherine isn’t someone that easy to deal with."

  Albert scoffed, unimpressed. His expression didn’t shift as he slowly raised a hand towards the hangar.

  "Inmates," he murmured, almost to himself. Then, his voice turned sharp. "You’re all the same. Insects."

  As Albert’s essence erupted out from him, an invisible force swept through the hangar like a silent storm.

  Screams and pained yells filled the air as every inmate charging toward the hangar doors collapsed to the ground. Some clutched their heads, others their limbs, their bodies writhing as if struck by an unseen hammer.

  Katherine's entire body tensed as agony shot through her leg. She let out a sharp cry and collapsed to one knee, clutching it. It felt like her bones had been shattered, like her flesh had been crushed beyond repair—yet, when she looked down, nothing was visibly wrong. No blood. No wounds.

  She looked back up at Albert, her breathing uneven.

  The warden’s voice rang out again, cold and merciless.

  "Insects need to be culled."

  ***

  Owen was in the middle of a brutal, messy brawl. Fists, elbows, and knees crashed into him from every angle, bodies pressing against him as he fought to stay upright. His muscles screamed, his bones ached, but his essence burned hot, fueling his every savage move.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  An elbow slammed into his ribs—he grunted but retaliated immediately, his own flame fist caving in someone’s cheek. Another arm wrapped around his throat, trying to choke him out. He twisted, slammed his head backward, feeling cartilage crunch as the attacker’s nose broke.

  Hands clawed at his clothes, trying to drag him down into the mass of bodies. A fist cracked into his jaw, but Owen barely felt it through the haze of combat. He swung wildly, knocking a man back, only for another to take his place.

  A face loomed too close. Instinct took over.

  Owen’s mouth snapped open, and his teeth clamped down hard, tearing through flesh. The man shrieked as his nose was ripped clean off. Owen spat it out, the bloody chunk smacking into another fighter’s face, momentarily stunning them.

  His knee shot up, burying into the man’s groin. They collapsed with a strangled gasp.

  Another figure lunged at him—Owen’s fingers found their throat. He squeezed, essence surging through his grip, and with a brutal yank, he ripped out their windpipe. Blood spurted, coating his arm, but he had no time to register it.

  More bodies rushed him. The fight wasn’t over. It was only getting worse.

  A jet of ice shot towards him—he countered with a burst of flames, melting it mid-air. A energy blast slammed into his ribs, sending him staggering, but he roared and unleashed a billowing wave of fire, forcing the attackers back.

  For minutes, Owen’s fists never stopped moving. Each punch cracked bone, each movement sent bodies reeling. He fought like a wild animal, his body moving on its own.

  Standing atop the wooden wall he had raised, Mayers observed with sharp, calculating eyes. He had seen this before. His fingers tightened around his cane as he muttered to himself, "It’s happening again… just like in the gauntlet."

  Owen was adapting. Growing stronger. He was a storm that refused to be quelled. Below, his fists shot out like cannons. A single blow sent a man crumpling, unconscious before he hit the floor. He twisted, ducked under an attack, and sent another opponent flying with a brutal backhand.

  One by one, his enemies fell. Slowly, bodies began piling around him, littering the ground beneath his feet.

  It was time to intervene. From the wall, Mayers sent out a tendril to shoot out at Owen.

  But Owen sensed this, and as he had the faces of two officers in his hands, he swerved his head and bit down on the tendril. Frost escaped his lips and a moment later the tendril froze.

  With an almost animalistic snarl, he tore the tendril apart, and banged the heads of the inmates together. He shoved away the nearest attackers as his eyes locked onto Mayers.

  Without hesitation, he bent his knees and launched himself upward, his body cutting through the air like a missile. The force of his jump sent people back.

  Mayers’ eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Owen to shift his focus so suddenly—not with so many enemies still on him. But there was no hesitation in the old sub-warden’s movements. His body tensed, and he gritted his teeth, extending a palm outward just as Owen came barreling towards him.

  A moment later, Owen’s fist slammed into Mayers’ palm. A deafening shockwave exploded outwards, sending a violent ripple through the air. The wooden wall beneath Mayers groaned and cracked, and the pressure sent nearby inmates and officers stumbling backwards.

  For a heartbeat, Owen and Mayers were locked in place, their strength clashing like two colliding storms.

  As Owen’s fist pressed against Mayers’ palm, his voice came out in a low, guttural mutter.

  "I am a crusader, embodiment."

  Mayers’ eyes widened in alarm.

  A blinding light erupted from Owen’s body, engulfing them both in it. Then, in the very next instant—Owen moved.

  His fist hurtled forward and slammed into Mayers’ face. The sub-warden’s head snapped to the side, his body twisting violently as he was launched clean off the wooden wall. He crashed into the cafeteria floor below, skidding past inmates and officers, and across the floor in a brutal roll before smashing into a row of overturned tables.

  Owen’s robe fluttered as he landed back down, his eyes locked onto Mayers’ crumpled form.

  Eyes lingered on Owen, who slowly walked towards Mayers. Some officers who had been standing nearby, stood frozen in place. Their instincts screamed at them to run, but they were too slow to act.

  Owen didn’t even glance at them.

  His after-shadow moved before they could react.

  Blurred echoes of his fists struck out at the surrounding inmates like vengeful phantoms—knocking them out before they even realized what had happened. Their bodies slumped down to the floor.

  The sub-warden groaned, pushing himself up from the shattered remains of the tables. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His green eyes flicked up to meet Owen’s unwavering glare.

  For the first time in this fight, Mayers felt something deep in his chest.

  A flicker of unease.

  In an instant, Owen was in front of Mayers, his fist raised high above his head. The old man’s eyes widened as he tried to move, but something was stopping him—his body refused to obey.

  Owen’s yellow aura flared, and with a brutal shout, he slammed his fist down into Mayers’ chest, sending the sub-warden crashing hard into the floor. The impact left a crater beneath them, dust and debris scattering in all directions.

  Before Mayers could even recover, Owen launched himself at the downed man, his fists raining down like a storm. Each punch landed with earth-shaking force, cracking the floor beneath them and leaving deep indentations where his fists struck. Mayers’ body jerked with each blow, his breath coming in shallow gasps as the relentless barrage continued.

  But Owen wasn’t done. He raised his fist again, ready to bring it down with even more force.

  That was when Mayers’ angry yell pierced through the chaos.

  His essence erupted from him in a furious wave, the ground trembled beneath their feet. Wood shot up from every direction, snaking up from the cracks in the floor, twisting and turning like living tendrils. Owen's eyes narrowed as he saw them moving, and he leapt backwards just in time as the wooden roots shot up, attempting to entangle him.

  The wooden tendrils wrapped around Mayers’ body, coiling tightly, and then solidified, forming a suit of armor that covered him from head to toe. The once frail and old man was now encased in a thick, wooden exoskeleton that made him appear even more formidable.

  A low creaking sound echoed as Mayers, with a sudden burst of energy, launched himself forward, closing the distance between him and Owen at an unexpectedly fast pace.

  Owen’s body was already in motion. With fluid grace, he sidestepped Mayers' attack, with the charge narrowly missing him. Before Mayers could recover, Owen delivered a series of rapid jabs to his head.

  Mayers stumbled back slightly, swinging wildly to counter. His movements were chaotic and uncoordinated, like that of an untrained fighter. Owen effortlessly dodged and stepped to the side, landing a powerful uppercut to Mayers’ chin.

  As Mayers reeled from the blow, he found himself struggling to regain his footing. His mind raced, confusion clouding his thoughts. It felt as though he had somehow forgotten how to fight properly.

  Owen didn’t give him time to recover. He gathered flames around his fist, and with a roar, shot his blazing fist directly into Mayers’ chest. The heat seared through the wooden armor, and in the same motion, Mayers was launched across the cafeteria, his body aflame as he flew through the air.

  The cafeteria fell silent, the officers and inmates stepping back in fear as Owen walked forward. He drew closer to Mayers, but three officers in special uniforms stepped in, helping Mayers to his feet. Owen's eyes narrowed when he saw their uniforms—they were some of the overseers for the upper floors.

  Mayers, now battered but standing, took a deep breath, his wooden armor crackling slightly as it absorbed the heat. He straightened, meeting the eyes of the overseers.

  "Owen has the ability to take away your fighting ability," Mayers said through gritted teeth. "To break free of it... you’ll need to pour a significant amount of essence into your bodies."

  The overseers exchanged nods, and then without hesitation, they began gathering their essence, their bodies surging with energy.

  Owen cracked his neck, as he stared them down. He then raised his fists and took a fighting stance. He was ready for them.