Quiet Hour

That was the name of the podcast he used to host. Gregory didn't talk about world events or politics-- he barely knew what he wanted the platform to be. An old friend made the offer, and he'd taken it with little thought. He was already known as the original Hero, though he never really understood what that meant to people. There were other paladin who were just as good and even better.

Greg saw himself as a laid-back guy, the type who didn't take much seriously.

And so, he brought that energy to his little show. He didn't start taking it seriously until he had seen how impactful it really was and how many were listening. It felt strange, humbling even, to know that his silly old man ramblings had meant something to strangers.

For the first time, he wondered what his life may have looked like if he hadn't chosen the path of a paladin.

New laws since stripped paladin of the right to earn from their name or likeness, which meant keeping the show running difficult. Eventually, he had to let it go. But he'd never forget his last caller. On the last Friday of every month, he's open up the line to five listeners, letting them say anything they wanted, be it a word of thanks or even resentment.

His final call came from a kid, probably in his early teens, with a voice that was thin and muffled beneath the sounds of rain. The boy was holding back tears, his words were hollow and brittle. There was something so raw in that sound that Greg's heat tightened. He didn't know how but he felt that if he let this kid down, something wrong would happen.

One year later after he left the podcast for good, he got an offer to be part of another institute and train some rookie paladin again. He almost refused, but memory of that last call lingered, making him think he might be able to do some good.

The first time he met his new team, he recognized one of the boys instantly. That voice, the same hollow tone, though now steadier. "My names Arte Graham..." Hr introduced himself with a touch more life, more resilience.

A warmth filled Greg's heart, a quiet pride in the way this kid had begun to find his way forward, unknowingly pulling himself out of the darkness.

But now that warmth had instantly turned ice.

The sight before Greg had felt like a punch to the gut. Arte lay sprawled on the gravel, his blood pooling beneath him, his OD flickering weakly around his form, pressing on the wound as if even his own life force knew it was slipping away.

'Not dead yet.' Greg's voice was a grim, murmur, a promise in his tone. In a single fluid motion, he lifted the boy's limp body, cradling him with unyielding care. He would not let Arte die here-- not like this and not anytime soon.

With a surge of power, Greg disappeared from the scene, leaving only the faint tremor of displaced air in his wake.

He arrived at a medical tent within seconds, Arte still clutched in his arms. His sudden appearance startled the young medic standing nearby.

"Juno Darby." The girl turned, eyes wide, taking in the battered form of her classmate in the arms of Greg.

"Is Elara around?" He asked, he knew how great her healing capabilities were so was disappointed to receive a silent shake of the young girls head.

"But don't worry, I can help him... please." She gestured toward a bed, and Greg gently laid Arte down, his gaze lingering a moment longer, a silent vow in his eyes.

But he didn't stay. Without another word, he shot out of the tent, taking to the skies above the darkened city, searching with renewed determination.

On the lookout for one Charlie Liber.

'Easy.'

He could feel the presence of his other students as he got closer to where he had picked up Arte.

'He didn't even go far.'

Greg landed with a great stomp that rumbled the ground shaking the four people in the vicinity.

"Teach!" Cole shouted out in surprise.

Greg was glad that the two were not hurt, it seemed he got here before they could even start fighting.

He then looked to the culprit. Charlie Liber.

The man was holding a young boy and there was a needle sticking out of the child's arm.

'That would be Oscar Dempsey.'

Charlie after noticing where Greg was looking gave him a menacing smile about to start taunting him before he had to duck wildly.

As Charlie ducked under a blow that had a very good chance of knocking his head off he dropped the child in his hands which allowed for Greg to catch him.

The boy was unconscious. He handed him over to Cole.

"You two, mission done when you get him back to school. Go!" Greg didn't know if that was the right decision.

The needle was empty when he had taken it out. He didn't know what it would be used for or what it would do to the child, but the best bet of keeping everyone safe was simply to get the child to Juniper Fay.

"I said Go! As quick as you can!" and the two boys ran until eventually jumping atop a cloud formed by Cole.

Charlie Liber straightened his posture and cackled, he stuck his tongue out and started licking his lips before he summoned his ego tool.

Greg remembers from the reports that his ability with the sword was related to water.

It didn't matter, Greg was an experienced paladin, and has been one longer than the brat in front of him has been alive.

"Was that smart now Hero.?" Charlie asked mockingly. "You don't even know what I put in there..."

"Not until I beat it out of you."

Charlie laughed again and got in a stance that left no openings. Even though the chaos in the city was Charlie's fault Greg couldn't help but feel bad.

Greg thought that if he were raised like Charlie Liber was then there is a chance that he would have turned out like him too.

.

.

But then he thought on his student. Arte wasn't like him, all in all he is as innocent as young boys like him come.

So even if Greg felt bad... he knew where his priorities lie.

"Charlie Liber. I will offer you this one chance to surrender."

"Eat shit and die old man!"

Greg sighed, 'This kid thinks he can contend with me.' Greg almost smiled.

Without warning, Greg launched himself forward, moving with a terrifying speed of a man who understood the power he wielded and the damage he could cause. His fist shot forward, the impact cracking the air as it tore through the space where Charlie had been only a moment before.

Charlie was quick, his sword carving a path through the air as he sidestepped, the blade glinting as it summoned a wall of water, crashing up from the ground to shield him.

Greg's fists collided with the water, sending a powerful shockwave through the liquid barrier, dispersing it with brute force. But even as the water scattered, Charlie moved, using the puddles forming around them, Charlie then jumped in them and emerged from surrounding puddles.

Greg kissed his teeth finding the trick both clever and annoying.

"You'll have to do better than hiding behind tricks." Greg's eyes remained focused and unyielding.

Charlie sneered, his voice echoing like a taunt in the vast, empty street. "Come on *Hero*. I know you're stronger than that."

Charlie raised his sword in a piercing motion aimed at Greg and the puddles had started to move in conjunction and all became a sharp wave of water aiming to slice Greg in two.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Greg stood firm, letting the water impact him head-on. The surge hit like iron and Charlie smirked watching Greg's figure blur through the dense torrent.

For a moment, Greg seemed submerged, trapped, but just as quickly, his fist burst past the liquid, the sheer force shattering the water around him like glass. Before Charlie could react, Greg lunged forward, hand in slicing motion ready to crack Charlie's cranium.

As his hand made contact though, what was supposed to be a rock hard skull was instead his hand going straight through it like a butterknife cutting through a piece of cake.

Charlie's form turned to water as it splashed around the area in a mass of water.

Greg felt the cold embrace of the water bubble constricting around his head, his breath growing shallow as the liquid pressed down with an insidious weight. He understood Charlie's plan. --Drown him while forcing him to focus on defending.-- A small crooked grin tugged at Greg's mouth, the kind of smile reserved for enemies who thought they had him cornered.

The street beneath them lay in fragments, debris settling from Greg's earlier blows. A single punch had split open the street, concrete gaping wide in jagged, chaotic craters, lampposts lay twisted like paper, and windows across several blocks had shattered from the force of his shockwaves.

The earth itself had felt Greg's might, and now Charlie would feel it too.

Greg's chest rose and fell slowly as he centered himself, ignoring the pounding in his ears and the bubble of water tightening around his head. With a steely calm, he watched Charlie out of the corner of his eye, sprinting with astonishing speeds, water swirling around his legs like twin-vortexes, propelling him in a dizzying pattern that would be hard for some to track.

Charlie had his sword clamped between his teeth, freeing his hands behind him. Greg's vision blurred for a moment, but he steadied himself, gauging his step, every subtle angle Charlie took as he circled closer.

Charlie finally gripped his sword and pulled it down, gathering all the momentum he had built up, channelling the energy into a single, precise thrust aimed directly at Greg's chest. The vortex around his blade twisted faster, the water forming into a spiralling lance wanting to pierce through everything in it's way.

But Greg was ready. His right palm rose, steady as stone, poised to meet Charlie's charge. Beneath his calm exterior, raw power simmered, waiting to be unleashed. His left hand formed a fist, resting low and tight. His body tensed like a spring as he counted down the moment.

Three.

The bubble constricted around him, but he ignored it, eyes unblinking.

Two.

Charlie's speed increased, his eyes blazing with confidence as he drew closer, oblivious to the danger he was rushing toward.

One.

Greg flicked his left index finger upward with pinpoint force, shattering the water bubble around his head with such explosive power that water droplets shot out in all directions like shrapnel. In the same instant he pivoted, sidestepping Charlie's strike.

Now with Charlie's guard wide open, Greg's left fist shot forward, the air compressing around it as if the whole city held it's breath. His punch connected with Charlie's abdomen, the impact detonating like a bomb. A wave of force radiated out, ripping through Charlie's torso with bone-crushing intensity.

The shockwave from Greg's punch didn't stop there. It tore through the surrounding area, rippling outward with an unstoppable ferocity. The ground cracked, forming spiderweb fissures that splintered out for blocks; windows imploded, sending shards of glass raining down, and cars parked along the street flipped from the sheer force of the impact.

The wind howled through the aftermath, carrying with it the groans of the buildings left teetering due to Greg's titanic blow.

The only reason Charlie had lived through that was because the impact was cushioned by the thick swamp of water he had put between them.

Charlie's body hurtled backwards like a ragdoll, slamming into a nearby concrete was with a sickening crunch, the structure collapsed in on itself from the impact. Dust and rubble erupted around him, forming a thick cloud that obscured him from view. For a heartbeat, the world went silent, the only sound was the faint crackling of debris and distant wails that were growing closer.

Greg had moved to Charlie's body only to stop and see a swirling hand emerge to pick him up and instantly take him away.

Greg wasn't as mad as he thought he would be, at first he thought that he didn't view them as a threat anymore, which he knew was wrong.

'What's going on?' He asked himself.

He then heard the wails in the distance again and paid more attention to it, and the moment he did he received an alert from the communication rune.

"What is it!" He hollered.

A voice came back to answer. "{Oscar Dempsey's power has activated.}" Juniper Fay was the voice, she sounded deadly serious as well as disappointed.

Oscar Dempsey's Mayhem had activated, but how. Greg immediately thought on his two students. And he hung his head in shame.

He wasted his time with Charlie Liber and made them run off far too quickly even though he had seen Charlie inject him with something potentially dangerous.

"{Greg, Stay outside the range. Carmen and the others are getting all the students out too. Don't go in until it stops.}"

The orders were so cruel. He had never felt like he deserved the title Hero but he happily welcomed it.

He replayed every moment, every choice that led him here. He had chosen to stay and confront Charlie, as a paladin that would be the right choice, it was expected of him. But to him, it felt like a betrayal.

He remembered the needle, and in hindsight, it looked like a red flag but he decided to ignore it. He had given the command to both Cole and Corey to carry Oscar out of harms way, but now it felt like he was the one who had sent them both into the jaws of danger.

All three of his students, he had failed them.

In his haste to protect, he had doomed them instead.

The moniker they had all given him "Hero" felt like a mockery. That's why he never accepted it in all his years. The decisions one had to make as a paladin sometimes were just too tough to honestly look at yourself as one.

He couldn't wear the title with pride or as a promise to protect.

It just felt like a hollow label. His mind was a storm of doubt and regret, each thought slamming into him like a hammer. He wasn't supposed to be outside the danger range. He wasn't supposed to be safe while those who would call for him were in peril.

And the thought of living life as a simple old podcast host looked a lot more appealing once more...

___

Ava had never been one for anger.

But there is one time in her life where she recalls feeling the intense emotion.

It was in the library where she had seen how Eli was treating Robin. It was as if someone had ripped away a veil from her vision and the world turned to a hot, suffocating red.

She'd nearly thrown herself into the confrontation without a second thought, blind to everything except the need to protect. Only Theon's hard grip had held her in place, keeping her from acting on that fury. At the time, she didn't understand why he stopped her, didn't understand what restrained him from the same red fury. But looking back she could see it clearly, the raw anger had swallowed her then, and it was threatening to swallow her now.

She remembered how she had carried that anger in the days afterward-- a cold, merciless steel lodged in her chest, fuelling her rage against everything that had failed her friend. Against herself for not having seen the signs. And against the school for letting in someone like Eli. And now this mission gone awry, she felt it creeping again.

Juniper Fay had warned them about this-- about how Oscar Dempsey's power could spread some infectious rage, and about how it could distort even the strongest minds. Paladin's would have some time to fight it off, she'd said.

Ava's hands trembled as she moved toward the source of the smoke, where she knew Oscar had to be. But what shook her were that her calls for her teammate-- Lugh-- went unanswered.

Her only answer was the rising tide of fury crawling up her throat. Her vision grew heavy, redder, cloudier, and yet she couldn't let herself slip.

She pushed herself forward, fighting the weight pressing down on her mind. And then she blinked and her vision was all red, she was aware of it, the rage and anger, but she wasn't acting upon it.

'Good.' She believed that the reasoning was because she was an awakened like Juniper Fay had said.

And in front of her she saw them-- civilians clawing at each other, police officers also driven to a wild frenzy, all lost to the burning all consuming red.

"Hey!" Ava shouted, raising her hands... "Please, try to fight it-- don't hurt each other."

The words fell dead on her lips. Their eyes didn't even register her, their faces twisted into masks of aggression, they lunged at one another. Ava's heart wrenched as she watched them, realizing that her voice, her presence, meant nothing to the crimson tide.

Her mind wrestled against the raw helplessness flooding in, a torrent mixing with the rage. She was powerless, and the weight of it bore down on her shoulders like iron.

For a moment her feet stilled. She had continued moving forward even when she knows it is not what was ordered of her, she continued hoping that she could reach Oscar, that she could help him before things got any worse.

But now looking into the eyes of these people, she saw there was nothing she could do. No amount of pleading, no careful touch could break the power that gripped them. And in that terrible moment, something inside her had cracked.

She gave in, feeling the helplessness spiral out, curling inwards, eroding her hope. The red seeped deeper into her vision, but in that darkened haze, one thought burned bright--a need to reach Oscar.

To push through the see of rage and get to him before he was lost completely. Her instincts sharpened, and her pulse quickened as her power surged through her, sharpened her every step, quickening her every movements with the danger that lay ahead.

Her feet moved with fierce determination, carrying her forward, blurring past the civilians locked in senseless violence. Her focus tightened, her heart racing in sync with her surging power.

And then she saw him, huddled in the center of it all with no one around.

A small shaking figure wrapped in his own fear, sobbing against the chaos of his power had unleashed. Oscar Dempsey.

Ava knelt beside him, reaching out. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and his teary eyes looked up at her, raw and terrified. "Oscar," she whispered, her voice as calm as the morning sun though her heart was pounding violently in her chest.

"It's okay. I'm here now. You don't have to be afraid," Her words calmed his panic, grounding him as his wild sobs slowed, his gaze searching her face for some thread of safety. She spoke softly, calming words tumbling out like a lullaby.

And in that moment the weight of his terror was slowly beginning to seize, his eyes fluttered and soon they shut, 'probably exhausted,' she thought.

The small frame melted in her embrace as she got up and leaped up to the top of a building trying to scope out her positioning and find her way back to the school.

After travelling for the length of a minute, Oscar's power began to fade, the red in Ava's vision retreating, dissolving with the chaos around them.

'Good.'

After a long night of trouble and a long fighting. Ava's heart began to settle, a soft gentleness began to take over.

"Ava." A familiar voice behind her spoke.

She turned to him, "Sir." he teacher, Bruno Hayes was behind her with a long black as ink pole in his hands. In his left arm was a passed out Lugh.

"You retrieved the boy." He inspected her and seen no major injuries. "Good job. Now lets get home, we have a lot to deal with."

There was a hint of unease to what he had said but Ava tried to pay it no mind as they were travelling, her arms tightly wrapped around Oscar.

She didn't want to lose the current swell mood that was growing within her.