another daily chapter !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Akira ran through the ruins of the jungle, through the smoke and ash and shattered trees, his body broken, his left arm gone, his flames fading slowly. He ran because running was the only option left.
Behind him, the ground shook.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Muscular's footsteps echoed through the forest. Each one was like a detonation. Each one closer than the last. The fully transformed Nomu-hybrid was chasing him through the forest at a pace that turned trees into kindling and earth into craters. He was tearing through the jungle in a straight line, smashing through anything that stood between him and his prey.
Akira weaved between the remaining trees, using the canopy for cover, changing direction every few seconds. His body screamed at him with every step. The cauterised stump of his left shoulder pulsed with a deep, bone-level ache that his blue flames couldn't fully suppress. His ribs rubbed against each other. His Overdrive was running on fumes, the blue enhancement flickering across his skin like a dying lightbulb.
He needed time. Just a few minutes. Time to catch his breath, to let the flames recover enough stamina to mount some kind of counterattack, to think of a plan that didn't involve hitting Muscular with attacks that didn't work.
Muscular sadly, didn't give him time.
A tree to Akira's left was shattered. Muscular had punched through it without slowing down, the trunk disintegrating into splinters that peppered Akira's back as he dove forward. He rolled, came up running, and changed direction again.
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING, KID?!" Muscular's voice boomed through the jungle, distorted by the Nomu vocal cords but still carrying that same deranged excitement. "THE FUN'S JUST STARTING!!"
Akira ducked behind a rock formation — a cluster of boulders at the base of a hillside. He pressed his back against the stone, his chest heaving, his remaining hand clutching his shoulder stump. Blue flames pulsed weakly across his body, healing at a slow pace.
Think. Think. What do I have left?
Red flames? Nearly depleted. He had maybe one or two more constructs in him before his offensive fire was completely spent. Solar Radiance would not do anything, and he did not have enough energy to pull another attack of that scale; he had already emptied his tank.
Blue flames were still functioning, but strained. The healing was keeping him alive, but every second of regeneration was burning through reserves that weren't being replenished. His body was running a deficit, spending more energy on repairs than it was generating.
He was on his last leg.
One arm. Cracked ribs. Depleted flames. Degraded enhancement.
Against a fully transformed Nomu-hybrid that shrugged off his strongest attack and hadn't slowed down once.
He was in a dire situation.
CRASH!!
The boulder formation shattered. Muscular's fist came through the rock like it was cardboard, fragments of stone flying in every direction. Akira threw himself sideways, the fist passing close enough to his head that he felt the displacement of air ruffle what was left of his hair.
He fired a blast of red flame directly into Muscular's face. The fire washed over the black membrane and did nothing. Muscular walked through it the way a person walks through a light breeze.
He grabbed Akira by the ankle.
The grip was crushing. Akira felt the bones in his foot compress, the tendons strain, the joint threaten to pop. Muscular lifted him off the ground with one hand, holding him upside down like a caught fish.
"You know what I love about you, kid?" Muscular said, his grotesque mouth splitting into that nightmare grin. "You don't quit. Even when you should. Even when anyone with half a brain would give up and play dead."
He swung Akira into a tree.
The impact broke the trunk. Akira's body folded around the wood, his spine bending in a way that sent burning pain shooting through his nervous system. Blue flames surged to the impact site, mending what they could.
Muscular pulled him back and swung him into the ground.
BOOM.
The earth cratered. Akira bounced as his vision went black for half a second, then returned — blurry, doubled, the world swimming for him.
Muscular lifted him again.
"Those two heroes.... the water couple, they were the same," Muscular said, his tone jolly, like he was reminiscing about a pleasant memory. "The woman, especially. She kept getting up. Every time I knocked her down, she got back up. Every single time. It was honestly impressive."
He swung Akira into another tree. The trunk snapped. Akira felt something in his right shoulder dislocate. Blue flames rushed to the joint, but they were getting slower. The healing was falling behind.
"Her husband was weaker. He went down faster. But he kept crawling toward her, even after his legs stopped working. Crawling through the dirt with his arms, trying to reach her. It was pathetic. But also kind of beautiful, you know? In a sad way."
Muscular slammed Akira into the ground again. Face this time. His nose broke. Blood mixed with ash in his mouth.
"And then there was you. The little kid who came out of nowhere and actually hurt me. Burned my eye out. Left that scar. And almost killed me." He touched the Nomu side of his face.... the side that had once been human, where Akira's fire had taken his eye two years ago. "You were thirteen. Thirteen! And you fought me like a demon. I respected that."
He lifted Akira to eye level. The boy hung limp in his grip, his body a canvas of bruises and burns and blood. His remaining arm dangled. His eyes were half-closed, the crimson irises dim.
"But respect doesn't mean I won't enjoy this."
He threw Akira.
Not into a tree. Not into the ground. Through the jungle. Akira's body flew through the air, clipping branches, bouncing off trunks, travelling fifty metres before hitting the hillside at the edge of the former fire arena and sliding to the base in a trail of blood and broken vegetation.
He lay there.
Blue flames flickered across his body. Weaker now. The healing was barely functional was almost gone.
Muscular walked toward him. There was no rush, no urgency. He strolled through the devastated jungle.... Why rush, something he was enjoying every bit of?
After all, this was what he lived for. The hunt. The chase. The slow, inevitable collapse of something strong into something broken. It was art to him. Every hero he had ever killed had given him a few minutes of this feeling. Akira? He had to wait for years to get this one done.
Akira pushed himself up using his functional arm. He planted his palm in the dirt and pushed, his body screaming, his muscles failing, his bones grinding. He got to one knee. Then his feet, and he stood.
Muscular stopped in front of him and looked at the boy — the one-armed, bloody, ash-covered, flame-depleted boy who was somehow, impossibly, still on his feet.
"See?" Muscular said. "That's what I'm talking about. That right there. You just won't stay down."
Akira looked at him. His vision was fading at the edges, darkness creeping in from the periphery. His flames were gone — both red and blue, barely registering, their light dim enough that he looked more human than he had since the fight began.
He tried to form a blade. Red flame flickered in his palm, a spark, a whisper of fire... alas, that was it... the flame died. Nothing left.
He had nothing.
No flames, no weapons, no enhancement. One arm. A body held together by willpower and whatever healing his blue flames had managed before they gave out.
He was fifteen years old, standing in a ruined jungle, about to die.
But he didn't close his eyes. He didn't look away. He didn't beg.
He stared at Muscular with those dim crimson eyes and said nothing, because there was nothing left to say. He had made his oath. He had kept his promise for as long as his body would let him. And if this was where it ended, then it ended with him facing the monster, not running from it.
Muscular closed the distance.
One step. Two. Three.
He stood directly in front of Akira. Towering over him. Three metres of engineered nightmare, looking down at a boy who couldn't fight back.
He reached out with one massive hand and wrapped it around Akira's neck.
His hand encircled his throat completely, the tips touching at the back of his neck. The grip wasn't crushing.... not yet.
Muscular raised Akira off the ground until the boy's feet dangled, until they were eye to eye.
White eyes staring into crimson.
The monster stared into the boy's eyes.
"You put up a hell of a fight, kid," Muscular said. His voice was almost gentle. Almost sad. The tone of someone saying goodbye to a toy they had enjoyed playing with.
"But this is where it ends."
His grip tightened.
"Goodbye."
SNAP.
The sound was small. Nothing like the explosions and crashes and roars that had defined the fight.
Akira's body went limp.
His eyes went dark, and the life snapped out of them.
His remaining hand, which had been gripping Muscular's wrist in a final, futile attempt to break free, fell to his side.
His heart stopped.
The flames?
Gone.
Muscular held the body for a moment. Then he dropped it.
Akira hit the ground as a puppet with its strings cut. He lay in the ash, motionless, silent, his eyes open but seeing nothing.
Dead.
For the second time in his life, Akira Shuzenji was dead.
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Knock knock!!!
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Who is it?
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Hanger
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Hanger who?
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CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MUAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHA!!!! ggs guys... the story ends.....
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