Chapter 5. A Rival for the Powerless

“Ha! Come on, man! Come on—come on—COME ON!
You’ve gotta do better than that!”

Ren laughed as fists, bones, and metal collided around him.

“You’re supposed to challenge me!”
“So why did I even bother baiting you into this fight?”

Thud.
Crunch.
Bang.
Clank.

Bodies hit the ground as Ren danced between a gang he had intentionally provoked—moving like he was playing a game only he understood.

Now you’re probably wondering: who the hell is Ren?

Let’s just say this—
he was blessed by the Flash in a way no one would ever call lucky.

“P-please… stop…!”
“HELP—ARGH—!”

Ren’s smile widened.

His essence… was that of a psychopath.

Not the movie kind.
The real kind.
Detached. Curious. Thrill-driven.

And unfortunately for me—and very fortunately for him—
Ren would become my greatest rival.

Because he saw what happened to Jerrad.

And that’s when everything escalated.

After the fight with Jerrad, Misaki and I finally got our ice cream.
Normal. Quiet. Almost peaceful.

Almost.

A man stepped in front of us.

“Powerless,” he said flatly. “Give me your money. Now.”

We stared at him, confused.

Then—without warning—he lunged.

His fist grazed my shoulder.

And then he burst into uncontrollable laughter.

I barely had time to process it before my legs buckled.

I hit the ground hard.

He crouched beside me, eyes wide with manic delight.

“My essence is begging,” he said. “If I ask you for something… and you don’t give it… your energy drains. Slowly. Constantly. Until you can’t move.”

I looked up at him, completely unimpressed.

“Alright, bro,” I said calmly. “Turn this shit off. Or you’re gonna regret it.”

I pulled out one of my pistols.

He stared at it—focused—then started laughing again.

“Ohhh, Powerless. I know what you’re hiding.”

He pulled on a gas mask.

Big mistake.

I fired.

The shot tore into his leg.

The laughter stopped.

He stared down, lightheaded, confused—then saw the blood spreading beneath him.

“That’s… not a pepper round…” he muttered.

The man who sent him had lied.

“Yeah,” I said coldly. “Funny how everyone keeps underestimating me.”

I fired a warning shot near his other leg.

“Turn it off. Now.”

He did.

We called an ambulance.

Misaki didn’t say anything—but I could tell.
Something about me had changed.

I wasn’t freezing anymore.
I wasn’t hesitating.

I was done holding back just because I was “disadvantaged.”

And then—

RATATATATATATAT.

A vehicle screeched past.

Gunfire exploded from the windows.

A drive-by.

I barely reacted in time—deploying my riot shield as bullets slammed into it.

Metal screamed.

Pain exploded behind me.

“Misaki!”

One bullet had caught his leg.

I snapped.

The vehicle stopped.

A woman stepped out.

Crimson hair.
Black combat gear.
Calm. Professional.

She smiled.

“Hey, Powerless. I was hired to kill you. Or bring you in alive.”
She paused. “Honestly, I forgot which.”

She rolled her shoulders.
“Either way—we’re fighting.”

My heart pounded.
Adrenaline surged.

“Call emergency services,” I said to Misaki without looking back.

Then I ran.

Batons clashed against machetes.

The powerless
versus
the world’s greatest mercenary.