Marvel Knight of Zodiac

Harnessing the power of a phoenix to execute a dragon-like maneuver, this technique, known as Phoenix Flight, proved fitting for the moment.

James knelt halfway to the ground, feeling as if every pore, muscle, and bone in his body had been pushed to their limits. It was akin to enduring the agonizing rigors of the Zodiac Knight techniques without any cosmic energy—a sensation of trembling and strain that threatened to overwhelm him.

Fortunately, his prior training with the Zodiac Knight Chest had acquainted him with such torment, sparing him the embarrassment of collapsing in a puddle of weakness.

Reflecting on the relentless trials endured by Zodiac Knight candidates, James recognized the necessity of such rigorous conditioning. In the crucible of battle, where bloodshed was inevitable, only those inured to extreme pain could persevere without succumbing to despair.

The essence of the Zodiac Knight lay in its resilience—so long as the spirit endured, the battle raged on.

As he rose, James fleetingly sensed the universe's presence, a moment he regretted not seizing.

Still, a surge of emotion coursed through him. His childhood dream drew nearer, and the universe beckoned, urging him to forge miracles.

"Ah! Quite a potent force."

Nearby, Barton lay nursing a bruised ego and body.

"This is the first time I've witnessed a human unleash such a devastating assault. Is it a boon of your armor?" he asked, propping himself against the stage's low wall.

James felt the trickle of blood down his hair as Barton surveyed him with a mix of curiosity and caution. "You're one of the two who tailed their car earlier. I recognize the tattoo on your back—the phoenix. A vivid emblem, indeed, difficult to forget."

James remained silent, his focus on steadying his breath.

"Allow me to speculate," Barton continued, addressing the silent air. "Your newfound abilities stem from this armor-like contraption. A relic of ancient Eastern mysticism, perhaps? It's surprising to witness such magical prowess. You've surpassed your former self."

James grunted in response, feeling the strain in his body.

"However, donning such armor likely exacts a toll. The physical strain must be considerable. Can you even move your hands now?"

"Huh! I think I'm...sss!" James's arm twitched, reigniting the searing pain that coursed through him.

Barton smirked knowingly. "As I suspected. The ultimate victor tonight is yours truly. Have you heard?"

The tension in the air thickened as heavy footfalls ascended the building's staircase, drawing nearer.

"Before your savior arrives, I have ample time to finish you off," Barton taunted. James gritted his teeth against the agonizing pain, slowly rising to his full height, a flicker of flame dancing in his palm.

"You're free," Barton said calmly, a smile gracing his lips. "Death is inevitable. Since embarking on this path, I've made peace with the end. But..."

"But you're still young. Possessing extraordinary power isn't always a blessing, especially for the youth. If you can't control it, you risk becoming its slave—a monster consumed by violence."

"Examine your heart, James. Let strength serve your aspirations, not enslave you."

With Barton's parting words, he reclined against the wall, gazing into the abyss as if embracing his fate.

James snorted, flames swirling in his hand. "It's over. Time to move on."

With a decisive gesture, James sent the fireball hurtling toward Barton. Without waiting to see the outcome, he turned away. The phoenix emblazoned on his back shimmered as the Bronze Armor enveloped him in its protective embrace.

Boom! The fireball exploded, leaving a gaping hole in the low wall beside Barton.

"I owe no one anything," James muttered.

Suddenly, a pair of black wings unfurled from his back.

"This is my thanks for your earlier assistance with the headless black arrow. But next time, if you defend a villain, don't expect my mercy."

With a graceful flap of his wings, James ascended into the air.

"Before I depart, allow me to pose a question. If one can't be enslaved by their own power, can they be enslaved by the convictions of others? We are on divergent paths, Barton. Don't impose your principles on me."

With that, James soared into the night, vanishing from sight in an instant.

"Puff!" Barton brushed the dust from his head. "That rascal nearly deafened me with that fireball."

Mid-flight, James lost control, and his suit dissipated into the ether.

"It's over!"

Exhausted from the ordeal, James felt his energy waning. Resorting to his reserve, he conjured a pair of wings, depleting his remaining strength in the process.

However, not long after departing the dilapidated factory, his suit vanished, leaving him to plummet from the skies.

The sensation of freefall was disconcerting, exacerbated by James's myriad injuries.

Luckily, he hadn't been flying at high speed. A nearby residential building offered a lifeline, its rooftop adorned with iron railings.

James plummeted just shy of the rooftop stage. Grasping the railing, he slowed his descent, albeit haphazardly, before crashing onto the balcony.

"Lucky... I guess?" James groaned, his body wracked with pain as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

The impact roused nearby residents from their slumber. Peering out windows, they spied nothing amiss—or chose to ignore it altogether.

Adjacent to the staircase where James fell, a window remained concealed behind heavy drapes.

Following James's fall, the curtain fluttered open, revealing a pair of eyes that observed him intently before swiftly retreating.

Inside the room, James stirred, awakening to an unfamiliar environment. Books lined the walls, giving the space an air of scholarly refinement.

A familiar scent wafted through the air, tantalizingly close yet elusively out of reach.

Moments later, the door creaked open, admitting a slender figure.

"Hey, you're awake!"