Kosmo had taken a liking to the wolf pups. They had been less aggressive as of late. Still, he struggled with perfecting the ‘1 = 0.5 + 0.5 = 1’ Pull. Elis had begrudgingly allowed him to use a 2 = 1 + 1 = 2 Pull. She wasn’t too happy about it.

“It’s too intense for the pups,” she said. “But if you wave your tail around so that all of the scent doesn’t get to the pup I guess that’s fine.”

A chilly breeze blew down into the enclosure, cutting through the flimsy jumpsuit. Kosmo shivered, his teeth chattering. He was tempted to agitate one of the pups just enough to make her burst into flames for a bit of warmth.

“Don’t even think about it,” Elis warned, her tone sharp.

“I’m only joking,” Kosmo said half-heartedly.

But it was too late. The slight lunge he’d faked at the pup had already agitated her, and she burst into flames. He held out his palms, trying to feel the warmth of her blaze, but Elis’ tail smacked the back of his head.

“Calm her down,” she pleaded.

Kosmo stood firm, feeling the mind-fraying Essence fog up his brain. A sour and bitter taste curled on his tongue. He felt a slight chill as his body tensed up, a wave of anxiety washing over him. He channelled the Essence to his tail, and performed a dedicated 2 Pull. Timing it perfectly, he spread the scent just as it reached his bristles, preventing it from overloading pup. The flames died down, and the pup calmed.

Kosmo knelt, running his hands through her fur, patting her head, side, and belly. He rolled with the pup, her warm fur pressed against his face.

“Awww…” Elis was impressed.

But Kosmo relished the warmth, savouring it as the bristles brushed past his body. As he stood, patting down his uniform, something caught his eye – but it vanished quickly.

“Did you see that?” he asked, tapping Elis.

“What?” she replied, her eyes scanning the area.

Kosmo looked closer but saw nothing. It was already getting late, and he’d missed the Iradi Derby because of this lesson. “I… Never mind.”

“Concentrate, please.”

“What were you saying again?”

“I was saying your timing is good for now for a 1 + 1. You should be able to pull off a 0.5 + 0.5. Plus, I saw you wrestling with your buddies in the park the other day – you were doing Pushes in time just fine.”

“That’s because Push Essence comes from the core. It’s easier to control it that way. The Pull Essence… I don’t know. It makes me feel crummy when I try to use it.”

“That’s what it’s meant to do,” Elis said. “To be a great Puller, you must be in touch with your emotions. Especially when you reach the Divine Phase. I’ve heard you see some freaky,” she leaned in closer and whispered, “shit.”

Kosmo’s attention was suddenly drawn by a loud roar.

“Did you hear that?”

“You keep hearing things tonight, huh,” she teased.

“Hold on.”

He left the enclosure and made his way past the tiger exhibit. The frightened beast paced in his cage, his breathing low and laboured. Each breath was a strained, guttural sound. Had something escaped?

He descended a few steps and spotted a man in a dark suit headed for the bird enclosure. Kosmo followed cautiously. By the time he entered, Li and Jo, the two Folk security guards, were arguing.

“He just kicked in the TV,” Jo sighed.

“Why would you do that?” Kosmo asked.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“They’ve scored their fifth,” Li replied.

“It’s that bad, huh,” Kosmo felt a laugh bubbling up deep within his gut but stifled it, knowing now wasn’t the time. “The Saints haven’t been at their best lately.”

Jo grabbed Li’s collar and dragged him outside. “Come. Let’s go finish the match with the others.”

Kosmo continued down the bird enclosure. The birds were making a ruckus – chirps, squeaks, and screeches echoed through the hallway. Some were Pushing, crashing into their cages in a bid to escape. Charmed animals always got aggressive around unfamiliar Kin. Kosmo was certain someone who wasn’t supposed to be here had entered.

He heard a door shut at the end of the room. Cautiously, he crept along the dimly lit hallway, careful not to let his hooves echo too loudly. He quietly opened the door and entered the parrot section.

The birds were in a frenzy, their commotion so loud that stealth was no longer necessary. As he moved down the aisle, he spotted a Folk in a dark suit, kneeling over a downed parrot. He must have Pulled on her.

“Step away from the parrot, bro,” Kosmo asserted, his voice firm.

The man didn’t move, instead plucking two feathers from the parrot. What the hell was he doing?

“I mean it,” Kosmo stamped his hoof on the ground.

The man stood, raising his hands. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’ve got what I need, and I’m leaving. Nobody needs to get hurt.”

‘Except for the parrot,’ Kosmo thought, glancing at the poor creature.

Without warning, he charged at the man, feeling his Pulse channel through his body, propelling him into the air. He wrapped his arms around the Folk and slammed him hard into the ground.

Kosmo then hoisted the man high above his shoulders, impressed with his own strength, and then used his Pulse to gain enough momentum to slam him into the reinforced wall. The Folk hit the wall hard, slid down, and rolled across the grass and dirt, landing face-first in the stream.

The Folk spat out water and stood shakily. “You know, if I were a Regular, I’d be dead.”

“Fuck,” Kosmo muttered, realizing the truth of it. His anger had gotten the better of him. What was wrong with him?

“Is this really what you want?” the Folk spread his arms apart, challenging him.

‘So, he’s definitely a Pulser,’ Kosmo thought. “Come get it, bruh,” he pounded his chest, adrenaline coursing through his body.

The Folk hesitated, and Kosmo saw his chance. He repeated the same Pulse-propelled lunge, this time aiming with his horns. Now that he knew the Folk was a Pulser, he didn’t have to hold back as much.

But the Folk swerved to the side, though Kosmo’s shoulder connected with a glancing blow. He crashed into the ground, sliding down a slope, grass burning against his skin. When he stood, he saw a torrent of fire headed his way.

There wasn’t time for a full-power Push, but he could manage a 1 = 0.5 + 0.5 = 1. He quickly squatted, spread his hands apart, and channelled the Essence toward them, holding a 1 Push of Air to counter the flames.

But the Folk’s Push was stronger – at least a 2 – and some of the flames broke through, singeing his uniform and scorching his skin. The flame licking his skin had made him wince.

The Folk finally stopped, likely drained of his Essence. This was Kosmo’s chance.

He lunged again, headfirst, crashing into the Folk’s body. They slammed into the ground. He rolled away. The pain in Kosmo’s horns travelled down to his temples. The Folk must have blocked in time. His block must have been a weaker strength, maybe a 2. It certainly wasn’t enough to stop his strength of 4. But it was enough to hurt his horns apparently.

He stood quickly as the Folk, now on his stomach, tried to rise. Kosmo stomped his hoof onto the Folk’s arm, not using his Pulse this time. He held it there.

“Ahhh,” the Folk groaned, his voice losing its confidence, sounding almost boyish. “You’re hurting me.”

Kosmo hesitated. He couldn’t understand – this Folk was a Pulser. If he wasn’t, Kosmo’s horns would have penetrated his torso, and he’d be on his way to prison, where the Folk population would make his life hell.

Suddenly, he felt his uniform rise, as if an invisible hand were tugging it up. His limbs followed, and he was slowly lifted into the sky, his body turning as he floated. The parrot had woken up and was Pushing between them.

‘How long can she do this?’ Kosmo wondered. ’60 seconds?’

As his body rotated, he saw that the Folk was now shirtless, having wrapped the top half of his suit around his waist. Why?

The parrot stopped flapping and the two foes dropped to the ground.

Kosmo barely had time to register landing before he was taken aback by a kick that landed squarely on the side of his head, sending him stumbling onto his back.

“I could go on, but I’ve got things I need to be doing,” the Folk said, making a beeline for the exit.

Kosmo leapt after him covering an incredible distance that even impressed him. If only he were still an Ironblitz player he thought to himself. He wrapped his arms around the Folk’s torso and threw him back.

When he turned, the Folk was already on his feet. They exchanged blows but were equally matched, each able to block and parry each other’s punches with ease. Kosmo grabbed him again, throwing him against a cage.

The Folk rolled away, once again on his feet.

“You’re forcing me to hurt you now. Stop,” Kosmo warned, his tone darkening.

The Folk lunged, aiming for a hit, but Kosmo’s reactions were just as quick. The Folk stepped back, taking a stance that betrayed his next move – a Push.

Kosmo prepped his Essence, this time aiming for a 3 Push. As he saw sparks of light flicker from the Folk’s fist, he channelled an Air Push forward. But the Folk faked him out, dodging to the side, and delivered a kick to Kosmo’s ribs – right where his scar was.

The impact sent a shockwave of pain up his spine and through his body.

Kosmo crumpled.