Agony ripped through Owen's skull as his eyes burst in a flash of searing pain. He staggered back, clutching at his face as darkness swallowed his vision. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body trembling as he struggled to process the sudden loss.

Then—wind. A fierce, howling gale roared through the air.

It hit him like a tidal wave. Owen dug his feet into the platform, bracing himself, his muscles straining against the invisible force. For a fleeting moment, he held his ground, his body trembling as he pushed back.

Then the storm intensified.

The sheer force lifted him off his feet, yanking him into the air. He twisted, trying to stabilize himself, but the wind was relentless, tossing him like a ragdoll.

Gritting his teeth, he tried using kinetic energy to stop his momentum. But the wind was too chaotic, too wild. It kept spinning him, hurling him further.

Then, through the turbulent currents, he sensed it.

At the centre of the platform, the wind was gathering. Condensing. Spiraling.

Katherine was forming a tornado.

Even without his eyes, his kinetic vision painted the scene in his mind—air currents converging, forming a vortex of destruction. And he was being pulled straight toward it.

Owen's mind raced, his thoughts sharp despite the whirlwind of agony that threatened to swallow him whole. He had to regain control. His essence burned within him, churning with desperation as he poured more of his energy into resisting the storm’s furious grip.

But then, he sensed something move behind him. Owen clenched his teeth and turned around, only to be met by Katherine's outstretched arm.

She flicked his forehead, a motion so small, but the force that followed sent him flying. He was sent spiraling once more into the tornado, his body spinning uncontrollably as the winds ravaged him.

Inside the tornado, the world was an endless blur of motion. His body was jerked and twisted, flung through the winds. His arms and legs flailed, caught in the merciless current, as if the wind itself were trying to tear him apart.

Owen's senses flared as something else began to stir. High above, far beyond the reach of the tornado's fury, he felt a shift.

And then he was being pulled upwards. The winds dragged him toward the centre of the storm, toward the shifting presence he sensed ahead.

Dark, swirling clouds gathered above, their darkness thickening with each passing second. The wind stilled for a moment, as though the entire world had held its breath.

Then it came.

A bolt of pure lightning, a pillar of white-hot power, crashed down from the sky. The crackling energy tore through the air, and in an instant, Owen's body was struck—the lightning lanced through him, raking his flesh with an unimaginable ferocity.

Every nerve ignited. His mind screamed, every cell burned as though set aflame from within.

The force of the lightning strike broke the tornado's grip. The storm unraveled in an instant, the violent spiral of wind collapsing outward in a wave of destruction. The shockwave sent Owen hurtling, his body thrown like a ragdoll, spiraling uncontrollably through the collapsing chaos.

Owen crashed into the ground with a deafening impact, the force of his fall carving a small crater into the battlefield. Dust and debris exploded outward in a violent shockwave before settling in eerie silence. He lay still, his body screaming in pain.

For a moment, he didn’t move. But then he felt a presence materialize over him.

Katherine.

She hovered above him, and now outstretched her hand towards Owen. The air around her warped, a force gathering at her command.

Owen's teeth clenched.

His rage, buried beneath the agony, erupted to the surface. His essence surged, and with a guttural yell, he unleashed a powerful kinetic blast.

It tore out from him in all directions, the sheer force obliterating the ground beneath him. The area was thrown into chaos—earth cracked, debris launched skyward, the very air trembling under the pressure of his unleashed power.

Katherine vanished but reappeared an instant later, standing effortlessly at a distance, completely unharmed. Watching. Waiting.

Owen ignored the pain in his limbs. His fists clenched, trembling with adrenaline and power. He slammed his hands into the shattered earth beneath him.

The force sent him rebounding off the ground, flipping upright in one fluid motion. He landed, feet digging into the ground, his body steady despite the ache in his body. His breaths were heavy, but his focus was razor-sharp.

He raised his hands and held them outwards. A cold mist began to seep from his fingertips, curling around his arms like living tendrils. Ice crystallized across his skin, flickering with an eerie blue light. The temperature around him dropped sharply, the very moisture in the air turning to frost.

Then, with a sharp exhale, he unleashed it.

A freezing cone of frost erupted from his outstretched hands, spreading outward in a wide arc. The ground before him was swallowed by the cold, frost racing across the rock, turning everything in its path into an icy wasteland.

Katherine stood directly in the path of the frost.

For a brief moment, the freezing mist rushed toward her, threatening to engulf her completely. But then—she vanished. Her body dissolved into wind, scattering apart as the frost swept through the empty space she once occupied.

But Owen could still feel where she was.

Without hesitation, he twisted his wrist, shifting his outstretched hand toward where she had moved. The frost curved in an unnatural arc, its frigid breath following her like a relentless predator.

Katherine's air form moved across the platform, as the icy blast chased after her every move. The frost clung to the air, desperate to latch onto her, but she remained just out of reach. Then she reappeared to Owen's left.

Owen barely had time to react before she raised her hand toward him, fingers shaped like a gun. She shot out three shots of compressed air.

The first shot of air struck him dead centre. A force like a cannonball punched through his torso, tearing a clean hole straight through him.

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The second shot drilled into his shoulder, piercing through muscle and bone before ripping out the other side.

The third buried itself into his lower abdomen, shattering its way through flesh and exiting in a bloody spray.

Owen staggered back, a sharp gasp escaping him. He coughed, a thick splatter of blood staining the ground at his feet. His entire body trembled, his strength faltering. The frost that had pursued Katherine flickered—then died, dissolving into nothing.

Katherine moved with the speed of a phantom, her form blurring as she closed the distance. In a flash, she was upon him.

Owen barely had time to brace himself as Katherine’s fist pulled back. Then, without warning, she shot her fist out toward his chest. The punch hit with devastating force, but it didn’t stop there. It penetrated through him, her arm extending through his back, blood spilling freely from the wound.

Owen's mouth hung open in shock, his body shaking as the pain surged through him. Blood dripped from his lips, staining his chest as the reality of the blow set in.

Katherine's expression remained calm, even as she pulled her arm free in one swift motion. Blood gushed from the gaping wound, spilling in thick rivulets down his torso. He stumbled, his footing unsteady, his body swaying as his strength drained away.

Then Owen fell.

Time stretched, every second dragging endlessly as gravity pulled him down. The ground rose up to meet him, and with a thud, his back collided with rock.

Katherine flicked her wrist, sending droplets of Owen’s blood scattering to the ground. She let out a quiet exhale, as if shaking off the remnants of a minor inconvenience. Then, casting one last glance at his fallen form, she muttered under her breath.

"Don't get up again."

With that, she turned and began to walk away.

Owen lay there, unmoving. He felt his body numbing, becoming cold. His consciousness was slipping, fading into the void of unconsciousness. But then, far beneath him, he felt a subtle vibration.

From deep within the staging area the voices of countless inmates, rose together in a raw, desperate chorus. The inmates were shouting, screaming for him to get back up.

A smirk tugged at his lips, followed by a wet cough. Get up again? He didn't even know if he could survive his wound, let alone get back on his feet to fight again.

As he drifted off, a memory surfaced.

He was eight years old. The smell of sweat filled the air. Owen stood in the center of a ring, towering over a beaten boy four years older than him. His opponent lay crumpled, groaning, his face swollen with bruises. The referee stepped between them, raising Owen’s hand.

After he was declared the winner, Owen turned without a word, walking back to his corner, where his father stood waiting.

His dad's expression wasn’t one of pride. It was one of disappointment.

"You shouldn't have gone that hard." his father said.

Owen pulled off his gloves, unfazed. "He was too weak."

His dad exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing. "That mindset will make you lose one day."

From the side of the gym, a voice called out.

"You're wrong."

Owen and his father both turned.

His mother sat on a bench, watching them. Her black hair, cut at shoulder-length, framed sharp, confident features. A tank top clung to her frame, revealing arms decorated with tattoos. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, smirking.

His father frowned. "Oh? And how am I wrong?"

With a sigh, Owen’s mom pushed herself up from the bench. She slipped her hands into her pockets and walked toward them, the smirk never leaving her lips.

She stopped in front of them, tilting her head slightly as she looked at his father.

"Owen knows his own strength. Why shouldn’t he gloat that he’s better than his peers?"

His father shook his head. "Because inflating his ego will only make him overestimate himself. And one day, he’ll come across someone he can’t beat. And when that happens, he’ll lose. Badly."

His mother scoffed. "That’s just what you think."

She then turned her gaze to Owen, her expression shifting into something more thoughtful.

"Owen, tell me—what do you think your greatest strength is?"

Owen didn’t hesitate. He raised his fist. "My punch."

His mother blinked, then suddenly burst out laughing. A sharp, genuine laugh that made some of the nearby trainers glance over. She shook her head, grinning down at him.

"No." she said simply.

Owen frowned. "Then what is it?"

"Your greatest strength is your mind. You fully believe in yourself, and you don’t stop fighting until you win. That’s something a lot of people don’t have."

Her gaze softened, but the intensity in her voice remained.

"The strongest people in the world aren’t the ones with the hardest punches. They’re the ones with the greatest wills. It doesn’t matter how strong your opponent is—what matters is that you refuse to break."

She reached out, ruffling his hair. Her smile widened.

"And that’s why you won’t lose to anyone."

The memory faded, dissolving into the darkness of Owen’s drifting consciousness.

Katherine continued walking away, but then she heard it. A sound behind her. A faint shuffle. A ragged breath.

She stopped and slowly, she turned around, her gaze narrowing.

Owen was standing. Barely. His legs wobbled, his body still dripping with blood, yet there was a smile on his face—a crazed, defiant grin, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

Katherine’s frown deepened. She fully turned to face him, raising a hand. "I warned you."

Owen took a step forward, his body swaying like a puppet barely held together by strings. He mumbled something, his voice hoarse but firm.

"The inmates…" His head lifted slightly, his crimson-streaked lips curling. "They’re screaming out for a liberator."

Another step.

"So I can’t stop."

His sockless eyes seemed to lock on onto hers.

"If a dog like you…" He exhaled sharply, the star-shaped mark over his heart beginning to glow, pulsing brighter and brighter. "…can achieve embodiment, then so can I."

Katherine’s eyes widened slightly.

Owen took another step. The glow intensified. His grin widened.

"I am a liberator."

His voice grew louder.

"I am a warrior."

Then, he paused. The mark over his heart flared with brilliant light, swallowing his entire form.

"I am a crusader."

And lastly he let out the word, "Embodiment."

The blinding radiance erupted outward, forcing Katherine to shield her eyes.

A moment passed. Then eventually the light died back down. Katherine lowered her hand, blinking against the fading glow.

Owen was standing there, shrouded in smoke, like a fighter stepping onto a grand stage. He wore a black walkout robe, with gold trimmings lining the edges. His hands were tightly wrapped by golden bandages. Emblazoned in bold white letters across the hood’s edge, was the word 'Crusader'.

The wound on Owen’s chest was gone. No trace of blood, no torn flesh—just smooth, skin. His eyes once gone, were now there, sharp and clear, burning with an intense focus.

Then he vanished.

Katherine’s eyes widened. "What—"

Her words were cut off by a sudden, crushing pain exploding across her face. It was a fist.

She barely had time to process it before the force sent her flying halfway across the platform, her body flipping through the air before she crashed into the ground, skidding to a halt.

Katherine forced herself upright, shaking off the lingering pain. But the moment she steadied herself, Owen was already in front of her.

Her body tensed—she tried to strike, to summon her power, but nothing happened.

She couldn't move.

Her breath caught in her throat as Owen smirked. He stepped forward and drove his fist upward into her jaw. The impact sent her rocketing into the sky.

He didn’t wait. Crouching low, he coiled his muscles and launched himself after her. Wind howled around him as he caught up in an instant, his fist already cocked back.

A shockwave rippled through the air as his punch slammed into her ribs, bending her body at a brutal angle. Before she could react, another blow crashed against her back, then another to her side, then her face—she was being pummeled, thrown around like a pinball.

Her mind reeled. Why couldn’t she fight back? Every attempt to move was met with failure. Did he gain this ability through his embodiment?

Another punch sent her hurtling across the platform, her vision darkening at the edges.

For a moment, everything went black.

Then—she came to.

Owen hovered before her, grinning maniacally, his eyes alight with something wild. He pulled back a fist and slammed it into her stomach.

Katherine’s breath exploded from her lungs as the world blurred. They went plummeting downward at supersonic speeds, the air screaming around them as shockwaves rippled in their wake. And then there was the impact.

They smashed into the ground with earth-shattering force. But the momentum didn’t stop. The force of the collision ripped through the rock beneath them, sending them crashing down through layers of reinforced metals and complex machinery.

Sparks and shattered metal flew in every direction as they tore through the mechanical heart of the platform.

Then, with a final, devastating crash, they burst through into the staging area below, crash-landing down onto a stage.

The dust from their impact billowed outward, swirling through the staging area like a storm. For a moment, everything was obscured. Then, as the haze settled, a lone figure emerged.

Owen stood tall atop an elevated block of debris, his black and gold robe flowing behind him like the mantle of a conqueror. His chest rose and fell steadily, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. Below him, amid shattered debris, Katherine lay unmoving, her body half-buried in the wreckage.

Then, he noticed them, the inmates.

Rows upon rows of them filled the seats ahead, their faces frozen in stunned silence. Some sat forward, gripping the edges of their seats, while others simply stared, their eyes wide with something between disbelief and awe. No one spoke. No one moved. They had just witnessed the impossible.