Chapter 9 — Angel's Superpower Dream
Angel focused with everything he had. Inside his heart, he screamed and pleaded, praying that his superpowers wouldn't fail him at this crucial moment.
He had to give it his all.
Under the girls' expectant gazes, he knew—he had to break out.
In the blink of an eye, pale yellow psionic energy burst from Angel's palm and slammed toward the Black man, Ruths. The impact wrinkled the fabric of Ruths' vest.
"What the hell is this? This is what you call a superpower?"
Ruths felt a faint soreness in his chest, like being lightly pricked by a needle.
"It's not over yet."
Angel knew he was being underestimated. He had more than one way to attack. He clapped his hands together, and a powerful gust of wind expanded outward, kicking up dust everywhere.
"Well? Scared now?" Angel gritted his teeth and said fiercely.
"Actually, that cooled me down a bit."
As soon as Ruths finished speaking, he stepped forward and swung his club, smashing it into the side of Angel's head. The blow left Angel dazed. Ruths didn't stop—he followed up with a kick, sending Angel crashing to the ground.
"And then? Did that change anything?" Ruths looked down at him.
The girls panicked. They realized Angel was losing—and the other side had only sent out one person.
Ruths grabbed Angel and hauled him up.
"This is a superpower?"
As he spoke, he threw another punch, smashing it straight into Angel's eye socket. Angel staggered backward and collapsed to the ground again.
Lying there, Angel stretched out his hand, desperately trying to activate the psionic energy within him.
Nothing happened.
"Angel!" Sunny cried, her voice trembling.
"I—I just didn't want to show you guys the dangerous powers," Angel said through clenched teeth. "It's not that I can't win… You should go! I don't want you to see those bloody abilities! Once you're gone, I'll use my real power and beat them!"
Of course, the girls didn't believe him. They knew Angel was just forcing himself to sound tough, clinging to his pride.
But they still turned and ran, no longer staying by his side.
"Can you still stand up, kid?" Ruths asked coldly.
Angel slowly got to his feet. His right eye was already bloodshot from the beating.
From a distance, Ivan realized Angel had probably done all he could. He really couldn't win. Earlier, Ivan had wanted to see how other people used their superpowers in combat—but now, all he felt was disappointment.
"You bastard… this time I'll make you regret it," Angel growled.
"Hear that?" the Asian man sneered. "The kid still doesn't want to face reality. Superpowers are just parlor tricks."
Ruths snorted and stepped forward, swinging his club down from above!
At the critical moment, Angel dodged! As he slipped aside, he lifted his leg and kicked Ruths in the waist!
Ruths cried out in pain. Before he could react, Angel followed up with a punch to his face. Ruths screamed and staggered back three steps.
"What the hell? Ruths, are you joking?" the Asian man shouted in disbelief.
"Tch… this kid's fists are surprisingly hard."
Ruths clutched his broken nose, pain etched across his face.
Angel then grabbed the hem of his hoodie and yanked it off, revealing a powerful upper body and clearly defined eight-pack abs.
"How ironic," Angel said coldly. "A so-called superpowered individual like me has to rely on brute strength to take you down."
He raised his voice.
"You bastards shattered the girls' dreams about superpowered heroes!"
His blood seemed to ignite. He clenched his fists, his biceps bulging.
"Is this guy really a high schooler?" the Asian man muttered, staring at Angel's exaggerated muscles.
His own physique was nowhere near Angel's.
"Ruths, can you still fight?" the other Black man—who hadn't spoken until now—asked.
"Yeah… I'm fine. Didn't expect a high school kid to have a body like this," Ruths said, holding his nose, eyes watering from the pain.
Seeing this, Ivan—who had already raised his arm to intervene—lowered it again.
"Today, I, Angel, will knock you all down. After that, you will admit in front of the girls that you were defeated by my superpowers. Otherwise, every time I see you in the future, I'll beat you again."
As he spoke, Angel burst forward, closing the distance to Ruths. Still distracted by the pain in his nose, Ruths failed to react in time and took a punch to the temple, collapsing to the ground.
Just as Angel was about to follow up with a kick, the other Black man rushed in and struck him on the side of the head with a club.
In an instant, Angel's head rang violently. Before he could recover, a punch smashed into his face, blood spraying from his nose.
The Black man followed with another swing. Angel raised his arm to block it, then countered with a straight punch to the man's chest. The man cried out in pain. One more hit would have taken him down—
But suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in Angel's waist.
The Asian man had circled behind him and stabbed him.
Taking advantage of the opening, the Black man kicked Angel hard in the abs, then brought the club down onto his head, knocking him to the ground.
Blood flowed down from Angel's forehead.
His vision gradually blurred.
Angel knew it.
In the end, he couldn't protect that superpower dream of his.
"My dream… is broken."
Standing over him, the Black man raised his club, preparing to deliver an even more brutal final blow.
"Can… can someone help me…?"
Angel cried out in his heart.
Dimly, he saw withered yellow leaves drifting in the air—slowly turning a deep blue.
The wind rose.
A violent gale blasted the Black man away just as he was about to strike. Leaves rustled wildly. Pebbles lifted into the air. Then—not just the ground, but an entire small section of terrain tore itself free, carrying the three assailants straight into the sky!
Half-conscious, Angel rolled off the edge of the rising landmass and began to fall. When he was about five meters from the ground, a soft blue light wrapped around him, abruptly halting his descent.
The light gently lowered him to the ground in front of Ivan.
"You okay, big guy?" Ivan asked, crouching beside him.
"Ugh…" Angel groaned, barely opening his eyes. "It's you… shorty…"
"I'm not short! Who knows—by the time I'm eighteen, I might even be taller than you!"
High above, on the floating chunk of land—
The three attackers stared wide-eyed, clutching desperately at the ground and anything they could grab. One slip, and they'd fall from this terrifying height.
They had no idea what was happening, or why this was happening. One moment, everything was normal—and the next, they were in the sky.
They looked at each other, and in each other's pupils, they saw the same thing.
Fear.
In their hearts, they had already formed an explanation:
The Superpower Kid really was terrifying.
He had suppressed his strength until the very end—and then sent them straight to the heavens.
One hour later.
The chunk of land was no longer rising or falling, suspended motionless in the sky.
The three men had tried everything. Their phones wouldn't make calls. Buttons didn't respond. The screens wouldn't register touch.
"What do we do now?" one of the Black men gasped. At this altitude, the thin air made his head spin.
"The Superpower Kid just trapped us here. He doesn't intend to kill us," the Asian man said.
"You stabbed him. You really think he'll let us go?" the Black man said bitterly.
"We're going to starve to death," Ruths said.
"Don't panic," the Asian man said firmly. "At this altitude, we'll show up on radar. Air traffic control will notice us. We won't be stuck here forever."
---
The next day.
The three men were starving, their throats so dry they felt like they were on fire.
"Didn't you say we'd be discovered and rescued at this height?" one of the Black men asked, eyes bloodshot.
"I—I don't know… I don't know why…" the Asian man's voice broke.
They were helpless.
"It's God," Ruths said, his voice trembling. "God is punishing us."
"Wait!" The Asian man suddenly lit up. "We can pray—to the Superpower Kid! Maybe he's watching us all the time!"
"Good idea!"
"We'll beg him—maybe he'll hear us!"
"If he's moved, he'll let us go!"
The three reached an agreement and began their endless cycle of prayer.