X – The Infernal Gate
"Kaodin… please. Don't stop."
Liara's whisper wasn't sound. It trembled through something deeper—carried inside his breath rather than his ears.
The corridor blurred into embers and pulse.
Inside that hush, another voice rose—old, steady, familiar.
His father's.
"To prevail against strength, you don't fight it. You flow with it."
Kaodin's eyes opened, blue light cutting through dust.
He exhaled slowly.
The rigid Muay Boran stance dissolved. His weight sank lower. His center shifted—not into force, but into rhythm. One foot slid back, heel light, hips loose. His arms lowered, no longer guards—just balance.
Rogan sneered, metal jaw grinding.
"Still standing? You're either brave or stupid."
Kaodin tilted his head, a faint smirk breaking through the strain.
"Why not both?"
He beckoned him forward with a subtle tap of his toes.
Rogan growled. "You're good at provoking your opponent. Try that with someone else—not me."
He lunged.
Augmented mass crashed forward, a piston of rage. His fist tore toward Kaodin's skull.
Kaodin was already gone.
He drifted aside with a pendulum-like shift of weight, hips rolling smoothly, feet never crossing. From that flow, his leg shot up in a straight rising kick, spine aligned, force carried cleanly from the ground.
Rogan followed through, swinging wide—hammerfist aimed at Kaodin's ribs.
Kaodin didn't block.
He turned.
The strike slid past his shoulder as Kaodin's rear leg snapped up—Khao Chiang, a short, brutal knee that drove into Rogan's floating ribs. Perfect timing.
Rogan grunted, staggered half a step.
Kaodin landed light, already rotating.
He carried the motion through, his lead left foot snapping out—Teep Klang—a hard stop-kick to the chest. Not to damage. To command space.
Rogan stumbled back two full steps, boots scraping sparks from the floor.
"Tricks won't save you, boy!" Rogan snarled, servos whining hotter.
"Then stop chasing them."
Rogan charged again—faster, heavier.
Kaodin dipped low.
His leg swept out—Teh Chiang—a scything low kick that clipped Rogan's ankle mid-step.
The giant lurched, balance cracking.
Wawa reappeared beside him, spectral flame flickering, the cub's breath syncing with Kaodin's own.
The resonance steadied him.
"Alright," Kaodin murmured. "My turn."
Red Qi bled downward, flooding his hips, coiling through his thighs and calves. Heat tightened around his legs until every step hummed.
He stepped in close—dangerously close.
Rogan swung again.
Too late.
Kaodin's knee drove upward—Khao Loi—lifting Rogan's weight just enough for the follow-through.
He pivoted.
His heel whipped around in a tight arc—Jarakae Fad Hang, Crocodile Strikes Its Tail.
The kick landed flush against Rogan's jaw.
A deep, wet crack echoed down the corridor as teeth scattered across the floor like broken ivory.
Kaodin landed hard, boots skidding, smoke curling from his calves.
Rogan stood for one heartbeat—eyes rolled white—
Then collapsed like a fallen tower.
Silence swelled.
Then cheers erupted across open comm-channels.
Security droids surged in, restraining Rogan's ruffians, tagging the unconscious lieutenant for containment.
Kaodin swayed.
Wawa brushed against his leg, spectral light faint, steady.
You did it.
He smiled weakly. "Yeah… we did."
Across CSDS, screens flared alive. Vaults echoed with relieved cries.
Mrs. Hong's voice cut through the noise:
"Eastern corridor secure! Medical teams—move! Bring that boy home!"
Far below, Liara smiled through the med-fluid haze.
"You did it, Kaodin…"
Above ground, fires dimmed. Smoke thinned.
The city exhaled for the first time in hours.
Kaodin felt his body tilt.
He looked down, saw himself kneeling—Wawa curled beside him.
A faint blue outline lifted from his skin, fur flickering like flame.
It pulsed once.
Light rippled outward, drifting down through layers of steel until it brushed Liara's suspended consciousness like a warm hand.
And in the ruins of the east corridor, the boy who should've been dead simply closed his eyes—
and slept inside the glow of his awakening flame.