God of Destruction: Living Among Mortals

Nova hammered one last strike, his eyes betraying his bloodlust, something that he had craved for a long time. His fist crashed against the side of the man's face until the guy's body went numb, limp like a paralyzed man in a coma. Blood leaked from the man's face like a running faucet, smothering the ground beneath.

Nova staggered a step back, chest caving, his fists trembling slightly from the force of his own chaos. He didn't even bother to check if the man was alive or not (he knew the man was alive, but wanted to look cool, so he didn't care about the guy).

Then, his head snapped left towards the second attacker, who was already sweating profusely.

The second attacker didn't move. He didn't care to move. He stood there in the smoke, "calm", hands at his side, as if he was in the military, with his eyes fixated on Nova, with an unreadable expression.

Even though he was sweating, looking towards Nova, he didn't panic. He didn't hesitate. He looked like he was in a coma, like the first attacker.

Nova wiped the sweat and blood from his face, narrowing his eyes. He rolled his shoulders; fists raised again despite the ache in his arms. His legs felt slightly heavy, his lungs singeing, but he ignored the pain. He stepped forward anyway, not letting this opportunity leave. This was what he was about. Feeling the pain, the bloodlust, the action. He was all for it.

Nova stepped closer, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on the second attacker. The guy didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He stood there tense, like a teenager caught by their mother holding a rock-hard sock, trying to dispose of it.

Is that it? Nova stood there, unimpressed by the guy's reaction. He was trying to play dead, something you would do if a grizzly bear came at you. Nova tilted his head, confused, astonished, and even slightly amused.

The man's lip trembled slightly. His fists clenched, but not to fight back, but to control himself. Calming himself so that he wouldn't collapse.

Nova smirked menacingly at the man. He stepped closer and closer to the guy, who didn't react. He didn't gulp. He didn't shed a tear. He did absolutely fucking nothing.

Nova wrapped his arms around the man, leaning him in, and said in a low, yet dangerous tone, sneering: "Oh, come on… don't tell me you're just a statue. You watched your buddy get folded, and you still think standing still makes you invisible, as if you are dead?"

The guy finally reacted. He swallowed hard. His mouth didn't utter, but his eyes darted left to right, as if hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone could stop this madness.

Nova sighed, dropping his fists slightly. He isn't even worth the adrenaline. All that build-up, and you're just… useless. Such a waste of my energy and time.

Nova's grip tightened slightly around the man's shoulders, just enough to make him stumble slightly, though not out of strength, but out of pure fear. Pure intimidation. He leaned closer, letting the heat from his body smear all over the opposition.

"Listen," Nova started to mutter, his voice still low and cold, almost amused. "This isn't some movie. There are no second takes. You either move, fight, or… well, I move for you."

The man swallowed again, his jaw visibly trembling, but still no words came out. Nova shook his head, a small, incredulous laugh darting past him.

I can't believe he is giving up so easily. Then he tracked back and realized he would also give up if someone without any powers beat a guy with powers. Well, I guess I would also give up if I saw someone beating the utter crap out of someone who is Awakened. That's life, isn't it? Survival of the fittest.

He released his grip slightly, letting the guy wobble forward. Nova's eyes scanned the surrounding field, then snapped back.

Nova's eyes glared at the man, studying all the possible, time and energy-efficient ways of knocking the guy unconscious. He didn't want to inflict any real damage to the guy, since he was harmless.

He stepped in close, letting the man feel the presence of someone who wasn't playing games. One hand pressed lightly against the back of his neck, the other guiding his posture, destabilizing his balance just enough.

"Relax," Nova muttered, unamused and scornful, his tone calm. "It's over. Just let go."

With a subtle twist of his wrist and a careful shift of his weight, the man's knee buckled. His eyelids were waving, his body drooping forward, collapsing gently onto the ground in an unconscious pile.

Nova stepped back, breathing steady, fists unclenched. The smoke was finally starting to settle down for good. He had disarmed both the opposition's front line, which meant that now he had only one more threat, which was considerably more dangerous than the two attackers he had just faced.

"Scout, check the perimeter," he ordered into the earpiece, voice crispy like a fried chicken. "Shadow girl, move up from defense, cover me. I need you to scout the other team's base. Shy girl, have the distractions ready."

He moved forward, fists relaxed, for now, but ready. He zig-zagged his way through the mess: plants, trees, debris. Every step was conscious, constantly alerting him. He felt like he was so close to the flag, yet so far. He didn't like the feeling; it felt creepy.

The team moved forward as if they were all Navy Seals. Shadow girl melted into the shadows. The scout fed Nova real-time updates, whispering precise locations of any incoming opponents. The shy girl readied another smoke bomb, crouching low, nervous, but firmly herself, as she waited for the signal.

Nova darted toward the flag; his eyes locked on the target. The blue defender was nowhere in sight. Nova felt lucky, but at the same time felt trapped. He didn't know whether to be content or nervous. But with the flag this close, he wasn't going to let himself ruin the moment.