The knock came again.
Harder this time.
Michael Pain stood still for a second, listening.
Not because he was scared.
Because his body already knew what was on the other side.
Downstairs in the gym of New York City, the air felt heavier than usual. The kind of heaviness that didn't come from weather or noise—but from people.
Bad people had a way of changing a room before they even stepped in.
Michael reached the back door.
The small glass panel showed them clearly now.
Two men.
Same ones from before.
No rush in their posture. No hesitation. Just patience.
That was worse.
He exhaled slowly.
"…Of course you came back," he muttered.
BANG.
The door shook.
A crack formed near the lock.
The second hit would open it.
Michael stepped back.
Upstairs, he heard the gym owner moving now.
Too late.
The third hit didn't come.
Instead—
Silence.
Then a voice came through the door.
"Last warning."
Michael tilted his head slightly.
"Yeah," he said quietly, "I've heard worse speeches. Delivery could use work, though."
No answer.
Just a sigh from the other side.
CRACK.
The lock gave.
The door swung open.
Two men stepped in.
The first one smiled.
The second one scanned the room as if it already belonged to them.
"Where's the owner?" the smiling one asked.
Michael leaned slightly on the wall.
"He's busy pretending he's not the problem."
The smile faded.
"Funny kid," the second man said flatly.
Michael nodded. "Yeah. I'm told I'm a coping mechanism."
The first man stepped forward.
No more talking.
Michael moved back instinctively.
The baton came out.
Fast.
Too fast for a normal person.
But something in Michael moved first.
Not thought.
Not decision.
Just reaction.
He dodged.
Barely.
The baton grazed his shoulder, sending a sharp sting through his arm.
He stumbled.
"…Okay," he breathed. "That actually hurt."
The second man moved in immediately.
Michael backed up again, eyes darting.
No weapon.
No space.
No advantage.
Just instinct.
Then—
The screen appeared.
Not calm this time.
It fractured into existence like it was being forced through reality.
[CRITICAL THREAT DETECTED]
Michael stared at it for half a second.
Then the system changed.
[UNLOCK CONDITION MET]TEMPLATE AVAILABLE
A new line formed beneath it.
One word.
RAIDEN
Michael blinked.
"…the god of thunder," he whispered, "but I really don't like how dramatic this is getting."
The first man swung again.
Impact never landed.
The air changed.
Not metaphorically.
Physically.
The lights in the gym flickered violently.
Once.
Twice.
Then stayed dim.
Static filled the room like invisible pressure building under skin.
Michael froze mid-step.
"…What the—"
His body moved.
Not him.
His arm lifted on its own.
The baton swung past him again—but slower this time. Like reality itself had hesitated.
The system flashed violently.
[TEMPLATE SYNC: RAIDEN 0%]
A sound filled the room.
Not loud.
Deep.
Like distant thunder trapped inside walls.
The second man paused.
"…You feel that?" he muttered.
The first didn't answer.
Because Michael's eyes had changed.
Not glowing.
Not flashy.
Just… focused.
Too focused.
Michael's hand twitched.
A spark jumped between his fingers.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But real.
He looked down at it.
"…No way," he whispered.
The spark snapped louder.
The lights overhead flickered again.
The air smelled faintly of ozone.
The first man charged.
Michael reacted.
This time faster.
Cleaner.
His foot slid sideways without thought.
The baton missed completely.
But as it passed—
A crack of electricity snapped through the air.
ZAP.
The baton jerked mid-swing.
The man dropped it instantly.
"What the hell—?!" he shouted, shaking his hand.
Michael stared at his own palm.
"…Okay," he said slowly, "that's new."
The second man hesitated.
Just for a moment.
That was enough.
Michael didn't attack.
He didn't know how.
But his body did.
A small surge of electricity flickered across his arm again.
Not controlled.
Not stable.
But real.
The system updated.
[RAIDEN TEMPLATE: 2% SYNC]
Michael swallowed.
"…I need better hobbies," he muttered.
The first man backed up now, panic creeping in.
"You're not normal," he said.
Michael gave a tired half-smile.
"Yeah," he replied. "I've been meaning to ask someone about that."
The lights above them exploded.
Glass shattered.
The room plunged into dim emergency glow.
Michael stood in the middle of it.
Breathing heavier now.
Not from fear.
From overload.
His fingers trembled slightly, small arcs of electricity jumping between them like unstable thoughts.
The system flickered one last time.
[TEMPLATE ACTIVATED: RAIDEN (INCOMPLETE)]
Michael looked at the two men.
Then at his hand.
Then sighed.
"…I don't think this counts as a normal gym problem."