Chapter 20: The Ghost in the Machine
Ren stood in the center of the ring, his one good eye tracking the movements of the boy in front of him. This was Adam. He had long, flowing purple hair tied back loosely and piercing blue eyes that looked at Ren with nothing but boredom. He was dressed in a sharp black suit and tie, looking more like an assassin than a student.
Standing behind Adam were the other two members of Kimo's squad:
Lira: A girl with short, jagged silver hair and sharp amber eyes. She wore a modified Academy uniform with armored leggings and had a series of throwing knives strapped to her thigh. She looked cold and calculating.
Mika: She had long blonde hair tied into messy twin-tails and bright green eyes. She wore an oversized hoodie over her uniform and was currently leaning against a pillar, chewing gum and looking at Ren with a mischievous smirk.
"So, I have to fight him?" Ren asked, his voice steady despite his internal doubt. He looks terrifyingly strong, Ren thought. How am I supposed to land a hit?
"Adam is your new teammate, Ren," Kimo said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "If you can prove your worth against him, you're in. Hand-to-hand only. No Vane powers, no potions. Just raw skill. Begin!"
Ren didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, throwing a straight punch at Adam's face. Adam didn't even blink. He caught Ren's fist in mid-air, and with a sickeningly smooth motion, he rotated Ren's arm a full 360 degrees.
"Argh! Let go! Stop!" Ren hissed, his body twisting to keep his arm from snapping.
Adam smirked and released him, but as Ren stumbled back, Adam delivered a lightning-fast roundhouse kick. Ren was sent flying, skidding across the dirt until he hit the ground right at Kimo's feet.
Lira and Mika began to laugh. "Is this the 'Elite' recruit you promised us, Sansei?" Mika giggled, popping a bubble with her gum. "He's just a punching bag."
Ren wiped the dirt from his suit and stood up. His jaw ached, and blood began to seep from the corner of his mouth. "The fight... isn't over yet," he muttered. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the faint scars on his arms.
He tried again, throwing a flurry of kicks and punches, but Adam moved like a shadow, dodging every strike with minimal effort. Adam countered with a sharp jab to Ren's stomach, then a hook to his jaw.
Blood sprayed onto the ground. Ren stood back up, his vision blurring. He attacked again. And again. Each time, he was met with a more brutal counter-attack.
Then, it happened.
As Adam swung for another finishing blow, a cold, static-like feeling washed over Ren's brain. His vision shifted. For a split second, he wasn't in the Academy. He was in a muddy trench, surrounded by the smell of gunpowder and the sound of distant artillery. He saw himself—older, maybe twenty-five, wearing a tattered WWII Army Uniform, training in a brutal military camp.
Ren's eyes snapped shut and then reopened. Behind his black glasses, his one eye turned cold and void of emotion. His entire posture changed. He wasn't a desperate teenager anymore; he was a Professional Soldier.
Adam sensed the shift and moved in for a kick. Ren didn't dodge—he parried. His movements were now terrifyingly efficient and precise. He moved inside Adam's guard, his hands moving in a blur of tactical strikes.
Adam's eyes widened. He could barely keep up. Ren feinted a high kick, and as Adam raised his guard, Ren drove a powerful, concentrated punch straight into Adam's solar plexus.
THUD.
The air left Adam's lungs. He stumbled back several feet before collapsing onto one knee, clutching his stomach. Both boys were gasping for air, drenched in sweat and covered in bruises.
The laughter from the girls stopped instantly. Kimo took the cigar out of his mouth, a rare look of genuine surprise on his face.
"Enough," Kimo commanded, stepping between them. "The match is a draw. Ren... welcome to the team."