The sound of helicopters tore through the night—deep, mechanical, relentless.
Ron, Carter, and Rocky could hear them closing in. The air itself seemed to tremble.
Two knights in obsidian armor charged at Ron, their swords gleaming with a ghostly light.
Ron summoned his Blade of Vengeance—its edge humming with dark energy—and met their assault head-on.
Steel clashed. Sparks fell like burning rain.
Ron teleported, reappearing behind them—but before he could strike, two more men materialized, their fists slamming into his face. His head snapped back; blood sprayed into the air.
The knights followed instantly, blades slicing through the smoke. Ron was forced to block, twist, and dodge in a storm of attacks. Every movement felt heavier. Every blow, sharper.
On the ground, Carter fought to protect his position, but a wave of enemies swarmed him. He was outnumbered a hundred to one.
Then the base shook.
A blinding bolt of lightning exploded through the hallways, and bodies dropped in heaps of smoke and ash.
Rocky stepped through the haze, electricity crawling across him.
"These are failed experiments," he said coldly, surveying the fallen. "Only a handful inherited true power from Ron's blood. The rest… are just puppets."
His voice cut through the tension like a blade, reigniting the team's will to fight.
Carter was drenched in sweat and blood, but his stance never wavered. He fought alone—unyielding, defiant. "Ron's blood?" Carter thought.
Meanwhile, above him, Ron was caught in a battle he could barely sustain.
The two men facing him were monsters—one bending space with Teleportation, the other wielding Black Sorcery that twisted the air like smoke.
The knights and the two men shot skyward, and Ron followed.
The night split open as their clash lit the heavens with flashes of purple and gold.
Ron's breathing grew ragged. He could taste iron. His wounds burned, but he refused to fall.
He raised his blade, whispering something which was forbidden.
The world around him shattered.
A purple armor formed over his body, wrapping his limbs in living purple flame.
Only his face remained bare—his eyes now glowing, veins pulsing with energy that clawed at the fabric of reality.
When he exhaled, shockwaves erupted—rippling across dimensions.
Even DA, far beyond this world, felt it. His head turned sharply.
Back at the base, Bruce watched through flickering screens. When he saw Ron ascend, a dark smile curved his lips.
"Everyone—gather around me," he ordered, his voice steady as thunder cracked overhead.
Carter flew beside him. They stood back-to-back, surrounded by chaos and lightning.
Outside, the storm seemed to pause, waiting.
Then, the sky filled with dropships and helicopters.
Hundreds of thousands of soldiers and experiments poured out—most with enhanced strength, some wielding faint traces of power.
Bruce turned to Rocky and gave a single nod.
Rocky became a bolt of lightning, vanishing with Carter into the distance.
Bruce remained.
Alone.
A hundred thousand enemies closed in, their weapons glowing, their eyes lifeless.
Bruce's own eyes glimmered faintly—then eight more eyes opened behind him, glowing in different hues, their light slicing through the storm.
He rolled his shoulders, smirked, and spoke softly—almost amused.
"So… why don't we begin?"
And the horde screamed.
Blades ignited, auras flared, and the battlefield descended into pure madness.
The storm answered with thunder.
And Bruce, surrounded and smiling, took a single step forward into the sea of death.
Bruce put his hand in his right Pocket and with a smile, he took out a magnifying glass. Ron's Magnifying glass. A large wave of beams released which erased everyone and everything
Everything vanished in seconds.
Bruce moved the magnifying glass slowly, methodically, across the horizon.
Buildings collapsed into dust.
Cars melted.
Helicopters fell from the sky.
Foster's experiments—thousands of them—were erased from existence.
Within a minute, the bustling city had become nothing more than a flat, lifeless desert.
"What a terrifying power." Bruce spoke.
uddenly, a shockwave rolled through the air, shaking the very fabric of the universe.
Bruce looked up. Two bodies were falling from the sky—lifeless.
Then he saw him.
Ron descended slowly, wrapped in his glowing purple armor. He landed softly, the ground cracking beneath his feet.
Ron exhaled, inspecting the armor that shimmered like liquid energy around him.
He looked at Bruce.
"How do I look?" Ron asked, half-smiling.
Bruce returned the smile.
"It suits you better than anything," he said. "Keep it. From now on, wear that."
Ron chuckled as the armor dissolved into mist.
Then a message appeared before him:
[ You have reached 50th Grade of Black Sorcery ]
Ron blinked.
Last time, Dr. Thomas said I was only at the 10th Grade… now I'm 50?
Curious, he thought, Show me my attributes.
But his attention shifted when he noticed Bruce removing his gloves. Ron focused on him—and suddenly, a glowing window appeared.
[ Name: Bruce (Currently Known as Jake Jacobs)
Age: 33
Supporter: — (None)
Attributes:
None (At present)
Overall Stats:
• Strength – Above Human
• Durability – Above Human
• Ki – Not used
Fables / Titles / Status: — (None) ]
So… Bruce is just a normal human? Ron thought, frowning.
Alright, then show me mine. Ron closed his eyes trying to focus on himself. The darkness he saw
[ The Fourth Wall wiggles… ]