As the haze of concrete and drywall dust dissipated, Antonio's two comrades engaged in conversation as they waited for him to exact his revenge. They kept a watchful eye on the bleeding Garrett, hoping for his death.

They were part of an anti-Psion organization that had masterminded the entire attack. Upon realizing that numerous people harbored grudges against Richard "The Healer" Brink, they had eagerly sponsored their vengeance.

Most of these vengeful individuals had been used as cannon fodder on the initial attack outside the building.Their lifeless bodies were strewn across the ground outside.

They had also arranged for the appointments of Richard's son and Garrett's children to coincide, ensuring that Garrett would end up as an unintended casualty in Antonio's vendetta.

"I wonder what the hell Richard Brink did to these people," the larger of the masked men mused.

"Who knows and who cares. He's a Psion, so his days are numbered anyway," the other skinnier man replied nonchalantly.

"So why don't we just finish this guy off?" the larger one gestured toward Garrett, whose chest continued to rise and fall.

"Hey, we want to make it look like he was an unfortunate victim. We just need to leave out the secret exit once Antonio's done with the kid. If he's still breathing when we have to leave, we can finish him off then," the smaller one whispered.

"I guess—" The big man's words were cut short as he saw Antonio collapse in the corner of his eye. He raised his rifle. "Shit, man down."

"Stupid idiot. He let his guard down around Psion kids," the skinnier one said, reacting just as quickly and aiming his rifle in the direction of Christopher, Kristine, and Timothy.

**

Christopher sprang into the line of fire, his arms crossed in front of him and his body now encased in sleek white bone armor. Only his eyes could be seen through the narrow slits in his domed head.

The two men unleashed a barrage of bullets. As they struck Christopher, large chunks of bone plates splintered and flew behind him. Christopher felt the shards of his bone armor shatter and pierce his own flesh. The impact of the bullets caused immense pain, and he soon tasted iron in his mouth.

Thankfully, the onslaught didn't last forever. Kristine managed to brace the dropped rifle on the counter for support, just to the left of Christopher and returned fire.

Her bullets bypassed the intruders' shields. Her bullets sparked as they struck the intruders' helmets. Though the bullets didn't penetrate their armor, the impact still whipped their heads back, disorienting them and halting their attack. Next, she targeted their knees, hitting the armor and forcing them to stumble onto one knee. The intruders grunted in pain, their movements growing sluggish and uncoordinated as the impacts threw off their balance.

The intruders were secretly in shock, unable to understand how this young girl had such uncanny aim. They scrambled to regain their footing and protect themselves, but Kristine's relentless attack kept them off balance.

Kristine was aiming her shots at other parts of their body, targeting the elbows, wrists, and ankles of the disoriented intruders. Her shots rang out in quick succession, striking their targets with deadly accuracy. The bullets impacted with a shower of sparks as they landed on the intruders' armored bodies, knocking them off balance each time they tried to regain their footing.

Christopher had to act quickly. He knew that Kristine's ammunition would soon run out. With a surge of adrenaline, he ignore the pain of his wounds and charged forward, his bone armor clattering with each stride.

Just then, Kristine's rifle clicked empty and the intruders seized the opportunity to raise their weapons at the charging Christopher. But they were not prepared for what came next.

In an instant, Christopher locked eyes with them, unleashing his Mesmerizing Gaze. This was the perfect opportunity.

Mesmerizing Gaze, while potent and powerful, had its limitations and weaknesses. Its effectiveness dwindled with distance, and as the target moved further away, the power of the gaze weakened. It relied heavily on the target's eyesight and could be negated if the target avoided eye contact. But now, the intruders were close enough for it to work.

The intruders felt their bodies go rigid, stunned, and unable to move for a precious few seconds. It was all the time Christopher needed.

Christopher's arms swelled, growing larger and sprouting bone spikes that jutted out menacingly. The intruders, still frozen in place, could only watch in horror as he closed the distance.

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He roared as he lariated both intruders in one swift motion, his spiked arms acting like a devastating clothesline. The impact sent them spinning in the air, their bodies twisting and contorting before they crashed into the ground.

The intruders, dazed, struggled to rise shakily to their feet.

However, Christopher had no intention of allowing them. He seized their helmets with his powerful, bone-armored hands, his eyes ablaze with anger.

He slammed their heads repeatedly into the ground. Each impact echoed through their helmets, their skulls ricocheting like racquetballs, the force reverberating through their brains. Their world spun, blurred, and turned to darkness as consciousness slipped further away. He could see notifications for Hatred Points popping into view but he ignored them as he continued his assault.

Each slam sent a shudder through the intruders' bodies, their limbs twitching involuntarily as they fought to stay conscious. Christopher's relentless assault left no room for them to recover or retaliate, and with each impact, they began to fade into unconsciousness.

Finally, with one last, brutal slam on the ground, Christopher released his grip on their battered helmets. The intruders collapsed, their bodies limp and defeated, unable to cause any more harm. Christopher's breath came in heavy gasps, his heart pounding in his chest, sweat beading on his forehead. It was over, at least for now.

Christopher leaned against a nearby pillar, gradually sliding down until he was seated. He pressed his back against the cool, concrete, grimacing as pain surged through his body.

His bone armor, while impressive, hadn't been enough to shield him entirely from the injuries sustained during the rifle gunfire. He noticed employees and staff emerging from their hiding spots, their eyes on him after witnessing his heroic act.

**

"Chris! Are you okay?" Kristine's voice, thick with worry, called out to him. The sound of the rifle hitting the ground echoed as she cast it aside and rushed to her brother's side.

Christopher clenched his teeth, managing a feeble smile. "I might have a broken rib or two, but I'm fine," he assured her. "Help Dad first."

Kristine wasn't entirely convinced, but she nodded. As she turned her attention to their father, who lay bleeding on the floor, tears filled her eyes. She sprinted to his side, holding back a sob as she put her hands to her mouth when she saw his condition. Quickly, she began applying pressure to the gunshot wound on his chest. His face was pale and twisted in pain, and she see the blood continue to fill his lungs.

Kristine tried to desperately stem the flow of blood, pressing harder against the wound. But it seemed like an impossible task. No matter how much pressure she applied, the blood continued to seep out, soaking through her father's white clothes.

"No." She thought. Her heart ached at the thought of losing her father.

Suddenly, a thought struck her, and she spun around. "Timothy, what's your Psionic power?" she shouted, her voice cracking. She heard that children of Psions often possessed abilities similar to their parents, and Timothy's father was a famous healing Psion.

Timothy, still catching his breath after being strangled, flinched and looked at Kristine, who gazed at him with desperation in her eyes.

"I can control blood," Timothy said, his voice soft. That was how he had rendered Antonio unconscious. He had stopped the flow of blood in his body, causing him to lose consciousness.

"That's great. Use your power to help my Dad!" Kristine's eyes widened with joy, amazed that Timothy possessed just the perfect ability for the job.

Timothy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He moved to her side and assessed Garrett. Placing his hands on Garrett's clammy, cold body, he closed his eyes and focused. The blood flowing from the gunshot wound slowed to a trickle, then stopped altogether. Their father's face relaxed, and his breathing grew steadier. He also detected blood pooling in the lungs and managed to clear it away. His hands remained on Garrett's body as his powers only worked by touch.

Kristine was relieved to see this improvement, but she noticed that her father's complexion remained pale. In fact, his lips were turning blue.

As her mind calmed, she remembered receiving the "First Aid" skill from the Angel system previously.

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She purchased 200 copies of this skill, and now she allowed the images and memories of first aid training to flood her mind. With her newfound knowledge, she realized her father was suffering from a condition called tension pneumothorax. With each breath he took, more air became trapped inside his chest cavity, leaving less space for his lungs to expand.

Kristine knew she needed to act quickly to save her father.

Her eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that could serve as a makeshift needle to relieve the pressure building in his chest. She spotted a first aid kit on a nearby wall and rushed towards it.

She tore open the kit and found a small syringe with a needle attached. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. Her hands shook as she recalled the steps for performing a needle decompression from the memories she had just received.

Kristine sterilized the needle and searched for the area on her father's chest where she would insert it. She located it and with a quick, firm motion, she punctured her father's chest wall.

A hiss of air escaped as the needle found its mark, relieving the pressure inside Garrett's chest. His breathing eased, and some color returned to his face. Kristine exhaled in relief, her tense body finally relaxing. Her father was finally out of danger for now.