The first thing Hope felt was pressure.
Not lightning.
Not pain.
Pressure—like the air itself had decided he did not deserve to exist inside it.
He froze mid-step.
His breath caught in his throat.
Then—
CRACK.
Lightning slammed into his chest and launched him backward like a broken doll.
Hope hit the ground hard, ribs screaming, vision flashing white as stone shattered beneath his back. He rolled instinctively, coughing blood before he even realized he'd been hit.
Volt didn't move.
He stood there, lightning crawling lazily across his arms, his posture relaxed—almost bored.
"…You made it farther than I expected," Volt said casually. "That's… mildly disappointing."
Hope pushed himself onto one elbow, shaking violently. His daggers were still in his hands—miracle number one—but his fingers were numb, spasming from residual current.
Get up.
His legs didn't respond.
Volt tilted his head, watching him like an insect twitching on its back.
"I've been watching you," Volt continued. "Long before this race. Long before you even realized you were part of something."
Hope's heart slammed against his ribs.
"…Watching me?" he croaked.
Volt smiled.
Not wide.
Not manic.
Just sharp.
"You move wrong," Volt said. "You think wrong. You survive things you shouldn't. That kind of thing stands out."
Lightning flickered behind him, casting his shadow long and warped against fractured stone.
"And my instincts?" Volt tapped his temple. "They tell me you're a future problem."
Hope forced himself to sit up, blood dripping from his chin.
"There's—" he swallowed, voice shaking, "—nothing special about me."
Volt laughed.
Not loudly.
Just once.
Short. Derisive.
"That's what pisses me off."
***
Volt grew up knowing exactly where he stood.
At the top.
Not because he was born strong—but because he made himself unbearable to oppose.
Teachers hated him.
Students feared him.
Principals learned to stop asking questions.
He was the kid who shoved smaller boys into lockers just to watch them flinch. The one who laughed when someone cried. The one who never backed down—not because he was brave, but because losing offended him.
Weakness disgusted him.
Not philosophically.
Viscerally.
He couldn't stand the sound of pleading. The shaking hands. The way weaker people tried to justify their existence.
Then the Awakening happened.
And the world finally made sense.
Lightning answered him like it had always been waiting.
Power didn't change Volt.
It validated him.
The weak screamed louder now.
The strong rose.
And the world—finally—was honest.
Back in the labyrinth, Volt stepped forward.
The ground cracked under his foot.
"You know what you are?" he asked Hope. "You're trash that doesn't know when to stay down."
Hope clenched his teeth so hard his gums split.
Blood filled his mouth.
"I've seen people like you," Volt went on. "Pre-Awakening. Post-Awakening. Always the same. Broken little things pretending endurance makes them important."
Hope's sister's face flashed in his mind.
Her smile.
Her bruises.
Her hands shaking when she visited him in prison.
"You think surviving makes you special?" Volt sneered. "Survival is what cockroaches do."
Lightning struck again.
Hope barely managed to cross his daggers before it hit.
The impact obliterated him.
He flew, tumbling, skin burning, nerves screaming as electricity tore through muscle and bone. His daggers skidded away across the stone.
Hope landed hard, face-down.
For a moment—just one—his body didn't move.
Volt watched.
"…Huh."
He took another step.
Then Hope coughed.
Blood splattered the ground.
Volt's expression darkened.
***
Hope's life was flashing before his eyes. Exactly just like what he read in comics and novels that at the point of death, one's entire life will flash before their eyes.
The first face was his brother's.
Small.
Laughing.
Running too close.
I didn't mean to—
The sound.
The fall.
The silence after.
Then the five boys.
Their screams weren't loud.
They were shocked.
Confused.
They hadn't expected resistance.
Prison walls.
Cold floors.
His sister's visits.
Her eyes avoiding his.
Then meeting them.
Then holding his hand.
"You're not a monster," she whispered.
Then the Awakening.
Three years of hiding.
Three years of surviving.
Three years of telling himself—
Just keep her alive.
Hope's fingers dug into the stone.
"No," he whispered.
Volt heard him anyway.
Hope pushed himself up.
Every movement screamed.
His vision swam.
But he stood.
Volt stared.
Something ugly twisted in his chest.
"…You're still doing it," Volt said quietly.
Hope staggered forward and retrieved one dagger.
Then the other.
His hands shook.
"I don't care," Hope said hoarsely, "what you think I am."
Volt's lightning flared violently.
"I fucking hate that tone."
Volt vanished.
Hope barely registered the movement before a knee crushed into his stomach.
He folded, vomiting blood as Volt grabbed his hair and slammed his face into the ground.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
"Stay. DOWN!" Volt roared.
Hope screamed—but he didn't let go of the dagger.
He slashed blindly.
Volt recoiled, more surprised than hurt.
The blade had cut his cheek.
A thin line of blood ran down Volt's face.
Silence fell.
Volt touched the blood slowly.
Then he smiled.
Wide this time.
"Oh," he said softly. "You fucked up."
Lightning exploded outward.
Hope felt his body break.
Bones cracked.
Muscles tore.
His world dissolved into pain and static.
Volt grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground.
"You know why I hate you?" Volt snarled. "Because you don't know your place."
Hope's vision blurred.
Still—he raised his dagger.
Volt stared at it.
"…Still."
He slammed Hope into the ground again.
Cracks spiderwebbed outward.
Hope lay there, twitching, body barely responding.
Volt stood over him, chest heaving—not from exhaustion, but from fury.
"You should've died quietly," Volt said. "But no. You want to stand. You want to matter."
Volt raised his hand.
Lightning gathered—dense, compressed, lethal.
"I'll erase you," he said. "Right now. Before you become something worse."
Hope's body screamed at him to stop.
To sleep.
To give in.
Instead—he planted a hand against the ground.
And tried to stand.
Volt froze.
For the first time—
He felt unsettled.
"…Why?" Volt asked.
Hope looked up at him, face ruined, eyes barely open.
"My sister," Hope whispered. "Still needs me."
Volt's expression twisted.
"…Disgusting."
Lightning descended.
Hope rose anyway.
The lightning was already falling.
And Hope—barely alive—forced himself upright to face it.