Chapter 9: The Lightning God's Refusal
The domain snapped back into place.
Lightning arced across the sky—not the wild, scattered bolts of before, but something controlled, something focused. Leo's pulse was draining. He could feel it, the energy bleeding out of him with every second, with every strike. But he had a plan.
He always had a plan.
The two Leos punched. Blocked. Punched again. They moved in perfect sync, two halves of the same broken whole, each knowing what the other would do before they did it.
Leo fought. He had to fight.
Wrong Leo countered—a punch to the jaw, a knee to the ribs, an electrical surge that sent Leo's nervous system into freefall. His vision went white. His body locked. He dropped to one knee, gasping.
"Give up." Wrong Leo's voice was flat. "Give up."
Leo's head came up.
"No." His voice was ragged. "Never."
He pushed himself to his feet. His body was screaming. His pulse was flickering. He didn't care.
"I've given up too many times. I'm not going to stop fighting. Not now. Not ever." He was talking to himself now, to the voice in his head that whispered he wasn't good enough. "I'm sick of it. Lily died. So many others died. I couldn't help anyone."
Wrong Leo watched him. Didn't attack.
"I'm always weak." Leo's fists tightened. "Always making excuses. I'm not as strong as Derek. Not as smart as Wolfen. Not as fast as Jordan." He looked up. "But I'll never stop fighting. If you think you can make me submit, you're crazy."
The lightning changed.
It had been yellow before—bright, blinding, the color of storms. Now it darkened. Deepened. Became something else. Red lightning crackled around his fists, his shoulders, his eyes. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Failure. All of it poured into the storm, feeding it, making it something dangerous.
The Lightning God moved.
One second he was there. The next, Wrong Leo's jaw shattered under his fist. He followed through, driving his other hand into his evil self's stomach, lifting him off the ground, sending him flying.
Thunder danced around Leo like he was the thunder.
He came at Wrong Leo again. Punched. Punched. Punched. Faster than thought, faster than light. His fists were lightning given form, each strike a storm, each blow a hurricane.
Wrong Leo was barely keeping up.
He released his own lightning—red and wild, mirroring Leo's—and they crashed together. Two forces of nature, two storms colliding. The lightning coiled around them, through them, between them.
Leo's charge climbed higher.
At that moment, Leo Cross surpassed Wolfen Welfric in power.
They moved like lightning—here, there, everywhere. Neither giving up. Because that's what Leo did. He didn't give up.
Success or death. There was no other option.
Both shot energy beams—highly dense, highly concentrated, bright enough to blind. The beams met in the middle, crackling, screaming, refusing to yield.
The domain gave Leo an advantage. He could feel it—the lightning bending to his will, the energy flowing where he directed. He just needed an opportunity.
Just one.
He left his left side open. A mistake. A crack in his defense. Wrong Leo saw it and struck.
His hand drove through Leo's side.
Blood sprayed. Pain exploded. Leo's vision went white again.
But he had been waiting for this.
His hands came up, cupping Wrong Leo's head, and he pushed. Electricity flooded into his evil self's skull—not the blunt force of before, but something precise, something surgical. He fried the nerves. He destroyed the brain.
Wrong Leo stood there. Motionless. Paralyzed. A husk.
Leo had the chance.
But could he kill himself? Could he look at his own face and end it? Did he have the strength?
He waited.
One second. Too long.
Wrong Leo's eyes focused. His hand, still buried in Leo's side, clenched. He punched—full strength, full fury—and sent Leo flying.
The domain shattered.
Wrong Leo was gone.
Leo lay in the ash, bleeding, his side torn open, his pulse flickering. He stared at the sky.
I couldn't do it.
The thunder faded. The lightning died.
Leo closed his eyes.