Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

"Well, well," Alexander said smoothly, his voice like a warm breeze laced with quiet menace. "What a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect you to arrive this early… but I suppose you've always had a habit of rushing things, Mark."

He stood in the center of the chamber like a host greeting late guests to a private gala. The overhead lights flickered gently, casting sharp shadows across his tailored suit.

Behind him, figures emerged from the darkness—six of them, cloaked and silent. Their movements were unnaturally graceful, too controlled. Though their faces were hidden, the air around them shimmered faintly, warped by a strange, volatile energy.

Not natural. Not stable.

Maya's fists tightened. Her eyes scanned each one, alert. "How did he…?"

Ezra's voice crackled in through the comms, sharp with disbelief. "This doesn't make sense. The external feed was looped. Internal scanners bypassed. You were in stealth. How does he know?"

Almost as if in answer, Alexander turned his head slightly, smiling.

"I know you're listening, Ezra and Yamal," he said, his tone light, almost teasing. "And I must say, you did an admirable job covering your tracks. But you see, it's not about the cameras."

He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. A nearby console pulsed to life, displaying a rotating schematic of the facility, and two red markers blinking exactly where Mark and Maya had moved minutes ago.

"We let you in," he continued. "Every step you took, every corner you turned, every breath you held, we watched it all. This place isn't a cage you broke into. It's a stage we built… for you."

Maya's expression hardened. "You planned for this?"

Alexander offered a slight nod, his smile never wavering. "Of course. You're not the first to sneak in. But you are the first worth keeping."

He stepped forward slowly, eyes locked on Mark.

"We needed someone… special. Someone chosen. A true Ascendant."

Mark didn't respond. His silence was met with a chilling final line from Alexander.

"We need your blood essence, Mark," he said, his voice low now. "For the final phase of our project. You should be honored."

His finger pointed straight at Mark, and for the first time, the veil dropped and the air in the chamber shuddered with something primal. Not just power. Hunger.

Ezra's voice exploded over the comms. "He's out of his damn mind! Mark, pull back now! Get the hell out of there!"

Yamal, who had stayed quiet until now, let out a shaky breath. "No… if they're after his blood essence—"

Maya's eyes widened.

She knew what that meant.

The blood essence of an Ascendant wasn't just symbolic. It was power in its purest form—concentrated life-force, tempered through countless cycles of spiritual refinement. It was the source of their evolution, their strength, their very identity.

To forcibly extract it meant not only endangering the Ascendant's life—it meant creating a shortcut to godhood. Or something worse.

Alexander spread his arms slightly, as if embracing the gravity of it all.

"With your essence, we could make hundreds. No… thousands. Not born. Manufactured. The Artificial Ascendants."

He paused, then smiled again, genuinely this time.

"Tell me, Mark. How does it feel… knowing you're the missing piece?"

Mark's gaze turned cold. His jaw clenched, and his stance hardened as if ready to strike at any moment.

"So that's what this is," he said, voice low. "You're draining Ascendants. Using their essence to fuel this twisted experiment."

Alexander didn't flinch. If anything, his smile deepened.

"Draining? Stealing? Such unpleasant words for something far more elegant. We're refining the future, Mark. Enhancing human potential. Ascendants just happen to be the missing link."

He raised a hand slightly and made a lazy gesture toward himself.

"Of course, taking too much from one of us, from a LaRue, would be counterproductive. It would weaken the line. But someone like you? You're strong, yes. But ultimately, you're a spare piece."

Mark's fists curled. His voice turned to steel.

"You think we'll just offer ourselves up?"

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Alexander took a step forward, the firelight catching his features in a soft crimson glow. His expression was calm, almost amused.

"No. But I don't need your permission. I just need your blood."

Without another word, his palm ignited in a flash of red flame, swirling unnaturally as if infused with something more than just heat. The temperature spiked, and the chamber flickered under the glow.

"Let's see what you're truly made of."

With a snap of his arm, he sent a blazing arc hurtling through the air. It crackled violently, carving across the floor with the roar of a furnace.

Mark moved instantly. A stream of his own fire surged out, meeting the arc midair. The two forces collided in a burst of heat and pressure, shaking the ground beneath them. The shockwave surged through the room, sending equipment rattling and forcing Maya to shield her eyes from the blast.

"Go," Mark shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. "Get out of here. Now!"

Maya hesitated, her instincts torn between staying and obeying. But she saw the intensity in Mark's eyes and knew he wasn't asking. He was buying time.

She turned swiftly. "Ezra, Yamal. I need a way out. Talk to me."

"We've got you," Ezra replied, voice clipped but focused. "Head left through the corridor. Take the second stairwell. Avoid the east wing. It's hot with movement."

Maya didn't need to be told twice. She sprinted toward the exit, but her path was cut off by one of the cloaked figures. It moved fast, almost twitching, limbs unnaturally fluid. It lunged at her with a clawed hand.

Without breaking stride, Maya spun and called on her power. A sharp gust of wind exploded outward, catching the figure mid-leap and slamming it against the wall. The impact cracked the plaster, but the creature only staggered for a moment before twitching upright again.

Its face was hidden beneath the hood, but something inside those eyes was wrong. Too bright. Too vacant.

"These things aren't human," Maya said under her breath. Her voice was tight with disgust.

"They aren't," Yamal confirmed grimly over the comm. "They're what we call the seventy-fives. Strong but incomplete. Still unstable. You can outrun them. Don't waste time."

"And Alexander?" she asked, already weaving through the hallway.

Yamal's voice dropped lower.

"He's the real problem. Just keep moving. Mark knows what he's doing."

Maya didn't respond. Her focus was razor-sharp now. The hall ahead curved into darkness, but she ran straight into it, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Behind her, the room was filled with flame and fury.

And Mark was still standing.

Mark stepped forward without hesitation, placing himself between Maya and the threat in front of them. Fire surged around his body, burning bright and steady. The heat pulsed outward, forming a wall of flame that forced the cloaked figures to stop in their tracks.

Alexander watched with faint amusement. He wasn't impressed. He was entertained.

"How noble," he said, his tone light, almost conversational. "But you know you can't protect her forever."

Mark didn't answer. He didn't need to.

He pushed off the ground in a burst of speed, fists cloaked in flame. The two collided hard, their powers crashing together in a wave of fire and heat that lit up the entire chamber. Sparks danced across the floor. The walls blackened under the intensity of their clash.

They weren't just fighting with fists. Their flames told the story—shifting, colliding, striking with purpose. Mark moved with clear intent. Every blow was meant to push Alexander back, to keep him away from Maya.

Alexander was faster than he looked. His flames lashed out unpredictably, flaring wild and cruel. He fought like a man who enjoyed chaos.

"Is that all?" he said between attacks. "I thought I'd feel the weight of a legend."

Mark dodged a sweeping arc of fire, pivoted, and responded with a heavy blast that drove Alexander back a few paces.

"You talk too much," he replied flatly.

Meanwhile, Maya was moving fast. Her eyes scanned every corner as she sprinted down the corridor. Ezra and Yamal guided her through the comms, their voices clear in her ear.

"Next left," Ezra said. "Exit's close. Two halls down."

"I'm not leaving without Mark," Maya replied. Her voice was firm.

"Don't be reckless," Yamal cut in. "You can't help him if you're dead. Move now, regroup later."

She didn't answer. She knew they were right, but every step away from the fight felt heavier than the last.

Two cloaked figures dropped into her path from a side corridor. This time, they didn't hesitate. They moved faster, more aggressive, like something had snapped inside them.

Maya didn't slow down.

With a wave of her hand, a gust of compressed wind slammed into the first one, hurling it against the wall. The second came straight at her, its limbs twitching unnaturally.

She ducked low, blade in hand, and swept it across the figure's torso. The hit landed clean, but the thing didn't fall. It glared at her with eyes that glowed too bright to be human.

"Persistent freak," Maya muttered.

Another blast of wind sent it flying into a corner. She didn't stop to watch it recover.

Back in the chamber, the air had turned thick with smoke and scorched metal. The fire lit everything in shades of orange and red, and the temperature was rising by the second.

Alexander's flames darkened, shifting to a deeper red with hints of black at the edges. Something in his aura changed.

"You're strong," he said, breathing a little harder. "But strength alone isn't enough."

Mark didn't answer. He gathered his flames into a spear and hurled it straight at Alexander's chest.

Alexander reacted fast, raising a massive wall of fire to block it. The impact rocked the entire chamber. The force of the explosion flung several cloaked figures into the walls. Some disintegrated on the spot, their unstable forms unable to survive the blast.

Alexander didn't look back.

He only had eyes for Mark.

"You're stalling," he said, his voice lower now. "You know you can't win. Once I'm done with you, your friend won't make it far."

Mark stared back, unfazed.

"You're assuming you'll get that far."

The pace shifted. They closed in again, fire exploding between them with every strike. Mark's movements were tight and controlled, each motion built on years of real combat. Alexander fought with flash and power, but he left openings. Mark saw them all.

Between swings, Mark pressed the comm against his ear.

"Ezra. Maya's status."

"She's almost clear," Ezra answered. "You're doing great. Just a little longer."

Mark's fire flared brighter in response.

"Then I'll hold the line."

Alexander launched forward, his flames merging into a wide inferno that tore across the floor. Mark didn't retreat. He raised his arm and summoned fire to wrap around him like a living shield. The two forces slammed together, and the chamber lit up in white heat.

The shockwave blew both men apart. They skidded backward, boots scraping across the scorched floor.

Alexander's calm was gone. His face twisted in frustration.

"You'll regret this."

Mark stood tall, brushing soot from his arm.

"The only thing I regret," he said quietly, "is not ending this sooner."

The flames around him burned steady once more.

Maya was safe.

But the fight wasn't finished.

Mark took a slow breath, stepped forward again, and made it clear—

He wasn't backing down. Not today. Not ever.