Another week had flown by, leaving only a week of training for Owen and the gang before the competition began.

They had just finished their lunch in the cafeteria and were now w in one of the training rooms. They were all doing their own thing; Grace was sparring against a training droid against the wall, Will was taking advice from Jason about his essence ability, and Owen was trying to meditate.

"I'm not sure what's wrong," he said to the air. "But I feel like my stomach is full."

His hand reached to his belly and rubbed it, feeling a hotness that seemed to be coming from inside him. At first, he thought there was something wrong with his stomach, but no, now that he felt it, it was actually deeper, more within his soul.

"Owen?" Grace said. "Did you say something?"

"Huh? No, nothing," he said. He continued to rub his belly.

"You seem like you're in pain. What's up?"

"No, it's not pain... I think it's—"

Suddenly, he felt a burst of power, a rush of energy that exploded from his gut, filling every fiber of his being. It was as if a dam had broken and the pressure behind it had been released. The feeling was immense and wonderful and exhilarating.

"Owen!"

Grace's cry sounded muted and distant as Owen lost himself in the flood of power. His whole body trembled and shook. Then, a flash of light erupted from him, a blinding explosion that engulfed the entire room.

The others cried out and fell back, covering their eyes. When the light faded, they were still dazed, blinking and shaking their heads.

Owen stood, panting and sweating. His skin was red, and his clothes were torn and shredded, but he was otherwise unharmed.

"What just happened?" he said.

"Owen?"

Grace approached him slowly, cautiously, as if afraid he might explode again. But then her eyes widened, and she ran up to him.

She grabbed his face and brought it close to hers. She looked into his eyes and smiled.

"You have specks of yellow in your eyes," she said. "Congrats, Owen. You’ve ranked up."

Jason and Will gathered around him. They were both grinning.

"How do you feel?" Jason asked.

Owen was silent. He felt... different. But he couldn't describe how. His breathing slowed as he tried to process the new strength that lingered within him.

"I feel…" he hesitated, struggling to find the words. "I feel like… like I have been reborn."

Jason nodded, a knowing grin stretching across his face. "That’s how I felt. The feeling you get from ranking up is exhilarating."

Owen stepped back and held out a hand up to his side. A moment later, a brilliant flame burst out from his hand, and like a thread, it thinned out into a line and moved around Owen like a snake. His control over kinetic energy had improved significantly.

He then formed constructs in the air in front of him. He built miniature figures of himself and the others out of fire, and watched as he made them dance around in the air.

"Has your control improved?" Grace asked.

"Yeah it has," Owen smirked. "It’s almost laughable how easy this has become now."

"That’s incredible," Grace said, watching the fiery constructs move with a life of their own. The miniature version of herself was twisting around like a ballerina. Grace chuckled, folding her arms. "You’ve even got the shading right for the mark on my face."

Jason clapped Will on the back. "Alright, let’s turn this into motivation. If Owen’s ranked up, then we need to push ourselves harder. The competition is in a week, and we can’t afford to lag behind."

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Will nodded enthusiastically. He took one last look at the constructs before turning to Jason. "Alright!"

They turned around and headed towards their side to continue training. Grace meanwhile had her brow raised as she studied the figures.

"Why are mine and your figures dancing together?" She asked pointing to the side of Owen.

Owen blinked. His attention turned to the two figures, and sure enough, the fiery forms of himself and Grace were interlocked and were twirling around, almost like partners in a coordinated dance.

"Uh…" Owen said, his face flushing red to match the embers. He snapped his finger, causing the figurines to pop and extinguish.

"That wasn’t intentional, I swear. They just… moved on their own."

Grace raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk crossing her face. "Yeah, sure," she teased, crossing her arms. "Just a coincidence, right?"

Owen was about to protest, but then Grace suddenly leaned in close. So close in fact that Owen could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek.

She whispered, "I don’t mind if they were dancing together."

And she then pulled back, with a playful glint in her eyes. She winked, and then turned on her heel, leaving Owen there frozen with his heart pounding in his chest.

He took in a deep breath, and tried to calm himself. "Well, damn."

***

The next few days were a blur of intense training and anticipation. The countdown to the competition was on, and Owen could feel the pressure mounting with each passing day.

On one evening, after Sonya's evening class, Owen found himself moving towards the training room after everyone else left.

The training room was dimly lit, the faint hum of the over head lights creating an almost meditative atmosphere. Owen stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss. The space was empty, save for the faint scuff marks on the floor from countless hours of practice.

He exhaled deeply and moved to the centre of the room. He settled into a stance, with his legs planted firmly, and closed his eyes.

His breathing steadied as he raised a fist, and then a moment later, his eyes snapped open. He threw out a fast jab that cut through the air like a blade, and then another. He fell into a familiar rhythm of punches and footwork, each movement sharp and deliberate.

The hum of the overhead lights was soon drowned out by the sound of his fists striking air, the sheer force of each blow creating a faint pressure wave that seemed to ripple through the room.

Owen’s focus deepened as his essence began to flow freely, coursing through his body like a river. With every strike, he felt more confident. Yellow essence flickered along his arms, illuminating them with each punch.

"More strength," he muttered under his breath. "I need more power."

Suddenly a voice echoed from the doorway.

"It’s a bit late for this, don’t you think?"

Owen froze mid-punch, his fist hanging in the air. He turned to find Isaac standing in the doorway, leaning on one side of the frame.

"I didn’t think anyone else was going to come," Owen said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Guess I got a little carried away."

Isaac stepped into the room. "It’s tomorrow, the competition," he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight of its own. "You’re really pushing yourself, huh?"

Owen shrugged as he stretched out a limb. "Yeah, I guess. I just feel like if I stop training, I won’t be ready to face the challenges that lay ahead of me."

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "You’re not feeling confident?"

Owen glanced down at his hands, feeling the essence that still coursed through them. "That’s not it. But, now that the competition is this close, I’ve been looking ahead into the future. And it feels… uncertain,"

He lowered his fists and looked up at Isaac. "I’ve ranked up, yeah, but is my strength enough? After the competition, I was planning on trying to break out of here, but how would I get past the likes of Mayers and Fowler? And even then, getting off the island, finding our families, finding a place for them away from the eyes of Arden," he clutched his fist to his face and almost glared at it. "Will my strength be enough to lead us to that ending?"

Isaac studied Owen for a moment. He walked further into the room, his shoes leaving imprints on the soft training mat.

"You’re carrying a lot," Isaac said. "Too much, if you ask me. Trying to lead, escape, fight all at once… no wonder you’re stressing out."

Owen sighed. "What choice do I have? If I don’t do all this, then who will?"

"Do you think you’re all alone in this?" Isaac shook his head. "You’ve got us, Grace, Will, Jason. We're all fighting with you, so don’t put everything on your shoulders."

Owen’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t reply right away. Isaac took another step forward.

"You’ve already shown us your strength, your determination. That’s why we’re with you. But if you keep trying to bear all of this by yourself, you’ll break before you even get a chance to fight back."

Owen stared at Isaac, the weight of his words sinking in. His clenched fist relaxed, and he let out a slow breath.

"You’re right," Owen admitted, his voice quieter. "But the competition tomorrow. If we lose, it’ll just reinforce in the minds of all the inmates that you can’t stand against Arden."

Isaac put his hands in his pockets, and almost casually said, "Alright, then don’t lose."

Owen stared at Isaac for a long moment, unsure of how to respond. There was something about Isaac’s calm confidence that made Owen’s heart settle, as if the burden he’d been carrying had been lightened just a little.

"Just don’t lose," Isaac repeated, his tone simple but firm. "You fought in the gauntlet alone but still came out on top. This time you’re fighting with allies. Your strength and the strengths of the others will be enough to win, so believe in yourself and the team."

Owen nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. The weight of it all, the fear of failing, had clouded his mind. But now, it felt like his head was clearing up.

"Thanks, Isaac," Owen said, his voice more certain now. "I needed to hear that from a friend."

Isaac widened his eyes at the word 'friend', but then he smirked, and held out a fist towards Owen.

"Good luck tomorrow."

Owen fist bumped him and smirked himself. "Thanks, but we won’t need it."

The future was still uncertain, but one thing was clear, he wasn’t fighting alone.