After five more jumps, Darius had managed to reduce the energy needed to teleport to a fraction of what it had been just hours earlier. Probably 10% of the effort it had previously taken. The strain that had once left him dizzy and half-conscious now barely caused him to break a sweat on each jump. In spite of himself, he couldn’t deny that Wendigo was a good teacher. Gruff and cryptic, sure, but with the kind of expertise that had cut his training time in half. Yet even the best training couldn’t mask the physical limits of his body.
“Unless you’ve got another one of those orange cocktails, I’m about spent for today,” Darius admitted, bending over to catch his breath, his hands braced on his knees.
“That’s about all the time I have anyway,” Wendigo replied, his usually sharp tone softened just a bit. “And yeah, those drinks—better to save ’em for when you’re desperate. Trust me.” He leaned back, watching Darius with a glint of approval hidden behind his usual scowl. “Be here at 6 PM tomorrow. Teleport directly into the dojo this time. We’re moving to teleporting objects tomorrow as a stand-in for people. We’ve got a lot to do, so get some rest.”
Darius straightened up, nodding. Despite Wendigo’s gruffness, he could see the guy’s advice was rooted in years of experience. “Thanks for today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Oh, and good job on not wearing those fancy Guardian Netacts tonight,” Wendigo added as Darius turned to go. “After Sunday’s job, Dodge’ll have a nice chunk of change for you, and we can get you a good replacement. Our tech-focused Empowereds are always working on the latest and greatest, so I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
Darius gave a nod of gratitude and took a deep breath, visualizing the plush couch back at his hotel suite. With newfound precision, he folded the space in his mind, carefully attempting to connect the two points without brute-forcing the tunnel. He strained to get the geometry just right, to get every angle and distance to align, but couldn’t quite manage it. Reluctantly, he closed the remaining gap with a tiny, controlled tunnel, and in an instant, he was back in the suite’s softly lit living room. The strain he felt was minor—more a slight tightening in his chest than the usual tidal wave of exhaustion.
“Maybe my power doesn’t hate me,” he muttered to himself, smiling slightly at how naturally the jump had come.
He slipped his Netacts back on, and the now-familiar overlay blinked into view. A few notifications from his friends appeared, unread and waiting, but he didn’t check them right away. He could feel the hollow ache in his stomach, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten since well before the brutal training session, and his finger hovered over the hotel’s room service options. As he browsed, he settled on a fish curry—one of his mom’s favorites, something she’d make from scratch on those rare nights off when she wasn’t exhausted from a double shift.
A sharp thought struck him then—a cruel, unshakeable realization: if he’d had even a fraction of the training he’d received today, would he have been able to save her?
The question lingered, taunting him, a cold and heavy weight settling over his chest. It was impossible to answer, but that didn’t stop his mind from tearing itself apart over it. Guilt surged, followed closely by an almost unbearable sadness. The memories of his mom filled the silence, vivid and comforting yet now tinged with an aching permanence. He could practically hear her laughing as she explained one of her recipes, insisting he have “just one more bite” even when he was full. She had this way of making every meal feel like an event, a celebration, despite the simple fare in their modest apartment.
A wave of raw loss hit him as he realized he'd never hear her voice again, never see that tired but warm smile she wore as she fussed over him. He’d never get to share his powers with her, the very abilities that might’ve saved her or could have spared him from conscription. The excitement he’d felt after training evaporated, replaced by a hollow, gnawing emptiness. It was as though a part of him had been ripped away, and he couldn’t fathom what might fill that space.
He gripped the arm of the couch tightly, steadying himself. His mother had been his anchor, keeping him steady in a world full of uncertainties. Without her, he felt adrift, aimless, as if he were floating on the edge of something dark and consuming. He knew his friends wouldn’t understand what he was going through. They hadn’t seen the things he’d seen, hadn’t faced the truth of what Guardians really were. And if they knew about Dodge? He doubted they’d understand, let alone approve. They were still clinging to their ideals, still under the illusion that the Guardians were heroes. Darius couldn’t cling to those same illusions. He’d learned, painfully, that he refused to be anyone’s servant, not the Guardians’, and not even Dodge’s if he could help it.
A soft chime broke the silence, and he blinked, realizing his meal had arrived. He pulled himself up and opened the door, retrieving the steaming tray. The smell of the curry wafted up to meet him, rich and heady, a sensory reminder of home. The bittersweetness he knew awaited him with each bite gnawed at his heart. He ate slowly, savoring and enduring each mouthful, knowing that every taste brought him closer to her and yet underscored the irreplaceable gap she’d left behind.
He’d push forward; he didn’t have another choice. But in that quiet, dimly lit room, he knew that some part of him would always be reaching for something that was forever gone, something that even the power now coursing through him couldn’t bring back.
After finishing up his meal, he collapsed on his bed, sleep taking him almost immediately. The emotional and physical exhaustion fading away as the world disappeared.
Darius blinked his groggy eyes into focus as his Netacts displayed 9:00 AM in thin, glowing letters. He hadn’t slept as long this time, but his body still ached from the relentless training sessions with Wendigo. Still, he couldn’t ignore the rising anxiety about his future encounters with the New Toronto Guardians. Growing up, Darius had known of these heroes, admired them even. But the perspective he’d had as a fan was wildly different from what he needed now. This time, he wasn’t reading for enjoyment or inspiration. He needed to understand each Guardian’s powers, tactics, and tendencies for survival. If he couldn’t outmatch them, he’d have to outmaneuver them.
He adjusted the Netacts’ settings, and search windows opened, projecting detailed files on each Guardian in translucent layers around the room. He'd have to start his own files on each one taking notes from forums and Guardian Information Boards alike. One name in particular drew his attention right away: Phase.
----------------------------------------
Phase
Power: Molecular Manipulation
Phase is infamous. She can switch her entire form—or just parts of it—between solid, liquid, gas, and even plasma. The “Ash to Ash” move is her signature: she turns into gas, enters a target’s lungs, and then shifts into plasma. Basically, incineration from the inside out. Effective, if brutal. I remember reading about her all the time back in Wavecrest, but what they left out was the controversy. Civilian groups have protested her methods, but Guardians’ support seems to shield her from any real consequences. If she’s near, keep distance. Absolutely no close range here.
----------------------------------------
Flow
Power: Rhythmic Manipulation
Flow’s in the Vanguard Order, which basically means he’s in the top tier of Guardians. His power “Rhythmic Manipulation” always confused me as a kid, but now I see it’s terrifying. He can align time and space to whatever rhythm he’s set, shifting outcomes and even slowing attacks to match his pace. It sounds subtle but feels like reality’s bending to his movements. This could make him nearly impossible to surprise or outrun. Avoidance is the only strategy here, but if we cross paths… well, I’d need to find some way to break his concentration if that’s even possible.
As Darius went down the list, the weight of their profiles settled over him. He had more Guardians to go.
----------------------------------------
Nexus
Power: Network Integration
Nexus is basically a walking blackout. He can access and control any connected device within range, which means anything from my Netacts to street cameras. If I’m anywhere near him, I’ll need to keep tech use to an absolute minimum. Luckily, his abilities are limited to a tech environment, so he’s not an immediate physical threat—unless I’m careless. Either way, if I have to operate under his radar, I’ll have to rethink every step.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
----------------------------------------
Emberheart
Power: Precision Pyrokinesis
Emberheart is the definition of firepower—literally. Her flames can reach extreme heat and are controlled with deadly precision. Reports say she can burn in the middle of the Driftspires’ harshest storms, which means there’s no reliable way to weaken her ability. She’s also known to be fiercely protective, particularly over civilians, which might be something to keep in mind if I’m caught in her line of fire. Keeping distance and staying hidden are the best options here. Honestly, from what I’ve read it seems like she is one of the good ones. Maybe there's a possibility of reasoning with her in an encounter.
----------------------------------------
Nova
Power: Solar Energy Emission
Nova is a powerhouse, able to release concentrated blasts of solar energy. These aren’t just showy beams—they can melt through reinforced materials and apparently even Breacher armor. That makes her a front-line asset, someone the Guardians deploy only in critical situations. If I’m ever around them, I’ll need a strategy that keeps me out of sight. They need a line of sight to be effective; maybe that’s my one advantage here as my power works great without one from what I can tell.
----------------------------------------
Frostbite
Power: Cryokinesis
Frostbite has the ability to lower temperatures within a huge radius, freezing almost anything in their path. They can create barriers, spikes, or walls of ice, all of which are extremely durable. However, his power takes time to charge up. Oddly enough, Frostbite’s reputation among civilians is spotless—friendly and outgoing, apparently. It’s hard to reconcile the public hero image with what it’d mean to actually face their power. I’d need to keep mobile, maybe teleport in close to take him out early. Hopefully it never comes to that obviously.
----------------------------------------
Arc Strike
Power: Electrokinesis
Electricity manipulation. Arc Strike can generate high-voltage attacks and barriers, especially effective against anything metal. Water makes him even more lethal, which is… perfect, given I’m on a Driftspire. He’s known to be aggressive, often paired with other Guardians on missions that need quick force. Outrunning him would be a challenge as he is capable of turning into bolts of high speed electricity for brief bursts; he doesn’t hesitate. If I see him coming, I’ll have to be ready to react instantly.
----------------------------------------
As Darius scrolled through the profiles, more Guardians began to blur together, each one wielding powers seemingly insurmountable. There was Rampart, whose ability to create energy barriers made him nearly impossible to get past. Pulse could emit disabling EMP waves, and Mistveil could cloak entire areas in dense fog, rendering even the most advanced tech useless.
Looking back over his notes a lot of his options involved running or hiding which made him feel particularly weak.
The Guardians had been the stuff of legend for him as a kid. They were protectors, saviors, wielders of impossible power who protected the Driftspires from threats beyond human comprehension. But now, with every profile, the overwhelming weight of their reality hit him. These weren’t just stories anymore. These were obstacles, threats that he’d have to overcome—or evade—if he wanted a life of his own.
With a sigh, Darius closed out of the profiles, his mind buzzing with newfound respect for Wendigo’s training. If he was going to face threats like these, he’d need every edge he could get, and the Guardian being able to teleport a Netacts case across a living room wasn’t going to cut it.
Darius had a few hours to kill before the evening, and after the intense research session on Guardian powers, he needed something that felt a little more concrete—literally. His mind kept flashing to practicalities; if he really did go through with this job, he'd need a physical edge. The conscription deadline was Monday evening, so he extended his hotel stay through then, just in case. To his relief, the whole transaction was handled through his Netacts, sparing him another encounter with the front desk attendant. With that squared away, he noted his remaining balance of 35,000 credits.
He let his mind wander, imagining how he could spend the rest. If he couldn’t take the money with him after slipping the conscription net, then it may as well be spent on something useful. Self-defense supplies were a logical choice. He knew the Guardians would see his search history, but he figured that would only make him seem like a cautious recruit. It was a solid cover. A few taps on his Netacts, and he found a self-defense store about 10 kilometers away. The live street cams in the Rosedale area were plentiful, so he quickly located an empty restroom to pull off what he now called “the classic bathroom teleport.” He reallllllly needed to work on his ability names if he wanted to embrace this whole Empowered thing.
He visualized that elusive fourth dimension, a thread between the points, bending and folding space between him and the target. Still, it wasn’t perfect, and he found himself once again creating a small tunnel to connect the points. With practiced ease, he stepped through and arrived in the empty bathroom. He grinned, feeling the improvement in his technique—it only took about five percent of the energy it once had. Barely out of breath, he exited the washroom into the open, freshly swept streets of Rosedale.
A warm breeze carried the faint scent of seawater and flowering trees, mingling with the soft glow of holographic signs above. It was a high-level walkway, the sunlight filtering down through layered balconies and bridges, casting moving shadows along the polished paths. Below, he could see the waterway cutting through the main street, sunlight glinting off its rippling surface.
Alfred’s Protection Needs wasn’t hard to find, given its flashy chrome exterior and rotating holograms displaying various weapons. He took a breath and stepped inside, where he was greeted by rows of neatly displayed tasers, stun guns, and an impressive selection of knives and swords. The atmosphere was both clinical and slightly ominous, a place where you could arm yourself for any contingency. Behind the counter stood a solidly built man with a name tag reading “Jason.”
“Hello, young master,” Jason greeted, voice polished with that strange blend of formality that seemed standard here in the upper districts. “How can I assist you today?”
“I’m heading to Soca on some business with my father. He said it can get… rougher there,” Darius replied, offering a half-truth that didn’t feel like a lie.
Jason nodded, eyes flicking briefly to a digital display. “Ah, Soca. Yes, I've heard it’s a bit… unrefined, shall we say? Do you have any permits?”
“None,” Darius admitted, trying not to sound too naive.
“Understood. No firearms then, but we have some excellent options in blades, tasers, and a few non-lethal tools for close encounters.”
Darius scanned the wall behind Jason, assessing the lineup. Rows of weaponry shimmered in elegant glass cases. He noticed a line of sleek tasers with ergonomic handles and a charge display along the grip, convenient and fairly practical, but they didn’t hold his attention for long. His gaze moved to the display of blades, a wide array of knives ranging from compact, close-combat types to elaborate, tech-augmented daggers.
But it was the swords that really captured him. The longer he stared, the more he felt a strange pull. A sword could be practical with his powers—it would give him range, precision, and power.
Jason seemed to pick up on his interest, activating his Netacts, his eyes glazing over for a split second. The wall of weaponry rearranged itself as knives and tasers slid back, making room for the swords. Rows of shining blades, each with unique modifications, appeared.
Each sword seemed more impressive than the last. There was a sleek vibro-blade with a reinforced spine, buzzing faintly as Jason demonstrated its pulse mode, which could tear through synthetic armor with ease. Next to it, a double-edged broadsword gleamed, equipped with a pulsating blue energy core along its edge that allowed it to deflect energy blasts.
Then, a shorter, katana-inspired blade caught his eye. It glimmered under the lights, a thin line of circuitry woven seamlessly into the metal, its silver sheen contrasted by an intricate hilt that almost seemed too beautiful for a weapon. As Darius’s gaze traveled down the display, he found the one that stopped him cold.
The katana caught his eye immediately: a stygian black blade marked by two thin white lines running parallel up its length. The hilt was meticulously wrapped in a deep crimson fabric, embroidered with the elegant shapes of coral reefs, blues and reds glistening as they caught the light. It was intricate yet dark, echoing the vibrant underwater worlds he used to explore. The blade looked like it had been crafted not just for combat but with purpose, history even.
“What about that one?” Darius asked, nodding toward the katana.
Jason’s eyes lit up. “Excellent choice, young master. That blade is a unique piece—reinforced carbon fiber with a titanium core. It’s incredibly durable and lighter than most in this class.” He paused, smiling as he tapped a spot on the hilt. “It has a hidden feature too—a switch here can either dull the blade temporarily or activate an electric current along the edge, enough to stun most adversaries without lethal damage. It can even be synced to your Netacts for remote control and tracking.”
He passed the katana to Darius, who grasped the hilt and felt its perfect balance in his hand. It was light, practically an extension of his arm. He couldn’t take his eyes off the intricate coral design woven into the hilt, a reminder of a different life, a different world.
“How much?” Darius asked, not even looking up.
“30,000 credits,” Jason replied, unflinching.
Darius raised an eyebrow. “I’ll give you 20,000.”
Jason chuckled, more amused than offended. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but 26,000 is the lowest I can go.”
A bit more back and forth, and they finally settled on 25,000. Darius transferred the funds, his heart pounding as Jason boxed the blade, securing it with a matching sheath adorned in the same coral reef design. As he shook Jason’s hand, a wave of satisfaction washed over him—he’d made the right choice.
With his new weapon secured, he slipped back into the restroom and readied himself for the return jump. Visualizing the plush couch in his suite, he tried bending space as precisely as possible, but the geometry was still just out of reach. Reluctantly, he created a tunnel and stepped through, landing seamlessly in the living room of his suite. This time, he barely felt any strain.
Placing the boxed sword on the couch, he took a deep breath, a sense of readiness filling him. With the right training, he might be able to hold his own. With some luck he might even survive Wendigo's brutal regime, too.