Derek was losing.
Superior-5 was a mountain of muscle and malice, his gauntleted fists finding Derek's defenses again and again. Each impact sent shockwaves through Derek's stone-hardened body, cracking his armor, bruising flesh beneath. He'd heal—he always healed—but the mountain didn't slow, didn't tire, didn't give him a single moment to breathe.
Think, he told himself. Think.
They got injured. They healed. Pulse flowed to the wounded area, knitting bone and sealing flesh. That was how it worked. That was how it had always worked.
But what if there was a faster way?
The thought hit him mid-block, as Superior-5's fist crashed against his forearm hard enough to splinter bone. What if the Pulse didn't have to travel? What if it was already everywhere?
Blood.
Pulse flowed through blood. Blood flowed through everything. If he could push Pulse into every drop of blood at once—saturate himself, flood his entire system—then healing wouldn't be a reaction. It would be a state.
He closed his eyes. Found the Pulse within him—that endless river of Neuro-Kinetic Substrate that made him more than human. And he pushed.
It exploded through him.
Every cell. Every fiber. Every drop of blood in his body ignited with energy. His senses screamed—suddenly he could hear Superior-5's heartbeat, could feel the air moving around him, could see the individual grains of dust floating through the firelight.
His body hardened. Not his skin—his everything. Bones denser than steel. Muscles coiled with impossible strength. Reflexes sharpened to a razor's edge.
And it didn't stop.
The power kept building, flooding through him, demanding release. It felt like too much caffeine and too much adrenaline and too much life all at once. His body wanted to move, to scream, to dance.
So he danced.
His feet moved in a pattern he didn't recognize—some ancient instinct, some primal rhythm buried in the core of him. His hips swayed. His arms waved. His whole body became a celebration of the impossible power coursing through his veins.
"This is better than I thought!" His voice came out high and giddy, childlike with wonder. "JACKPOTTTTTT!"
Superior-5 stared.
Derek stopped dancing. Grinned.
Then he punched.
One hit. That was all it took.
Superior-5 flew backward like he'd been launched from a cannon, crashing through three walls before finally stopping in a crater of his own making. He tried to rise—
Derek was already behind him.
How did he—
The thought never finished. Derek's fist connected with his spine, and the world went white.
CRACK.
Superior-5's spinal cord snapped like a twig. He collapsed, paralyzed, his body crumpling to the ground.
Derek didn't stop.
He couldn't stop. The power was too much, too bright, too alive. He hit again. And again. And again. Each blow sending shockwaves through the mountain's broken body, reducing armor to scrap, flesh to pulp, bone to dust.
When it was over, Superior-5 was no longer recognizable as a person. He was just... pieces. Scattered across the burning ground in a spreading pool of grey and red.
Derek stood over the remains, breathing hard, his body thrumming with power he still didn't fully understand.
Then he felt it.
Eyes on him.
He turned.
Prime 10 stood fifty feet away, motionless amidst the chaos. Her dark grey mask was fixed on him, and through the slits, he could see her eyes—cold, calculating, utterly without fear.
She had watched everything. Every punch. Every kill. Every moment of his transformation.
Derek met her gaze. Something passed between them—an acknowledgment, a challenge, a promise.
They moved at the same instant.
No words. No warning. Just two forces of nature colliding in the center of the burning ruins.
Their fists met.
*BOOM. *
Derek's arm disintegrated.
From the elbow down, his right arm simply ceased to exist—shattered into a spray of blood and bone by the force of Prime 10's strike. He stared at the stump for a frozen moment, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.
Then the Pulse kicked in.
Blood flowed. Flesh knitted. Bone regrew.
In less than three seconds, his arm was back—whole, functional, perfect.
Derek flexed his new fingers, staring at Prime 10 with something that might have been awe.
She stared back, and behind that dark grey mask, something that might have been a smile was forming.
"Interesting," she said.
Derek grinned—wild, reckless, utterly unhinged.
"Let's do that again."
The fire roared around them, and the real fight began.
85: The Blood Rush
Derek was losing.
Superior-5 was a mountain of muscle and malice, his gauntleted fists finding Derek's defenses again and again. Each impact sent shockwaves through Derek's stone-hardened body, cracking his armor, bruising flesh beneath. He'd heal—he always healed—but the mountain didn't slow, didn't tire, didn't give him a single moment to breathe.
Think, he told himself. Think.
They got injured. They healed. Pulse flowed to the wounded area, knitting bone and sealing flesh. That was how it worked. That was how it had always worked.
But what if there was a faster way?
The thought hit him mid-block, as Superior-5's fist crashed against his forearm hard enough to splinter bone. What if the Pulse didn't have to travel? What if it was already everywhere?
Blood.
Pulse flowed through blood. Blood flowed through everything. If he could push Pulse into every drop of blood at once—saturate himself, flood his entire system—then healing wouldn't be a reaction. It would be a state.
He closed his eyes. Found the Pulse within him—that endless river of Neuro-Kinetic Substrate that made him more than human. And he pushed.
It exploded through him.
Every cell. Every fiber. Every drop of blood in his body ignited with energy. His senses screamed—suddenly he could hear Superior-5's heartbeat, could feel the air moving around him, could see the individual grains of dust floating through the firelight.
His body hardened. Not his skin—his everything. Bones denser than steel. Muscles coiled with impossible strength. Reflexes sharpened to a razor's edge.
And it didn't stop.
The power kept building, flooding through him, demanding release. It felt like too much caffeine and too much adrenaline and too much life all at once. His body wanted to move, to scream, to dance.
So he danced.
His feet moved in a pattern he didn't recognize—some ancient instinct, some primal rhythm buried in the core of him. His hips swayed. His arms waved. His whole body became a celebration of the impossible power coursing through his veins.
"This is better than I thought!" His voice came out high and giddy, childlike with wonder. "JACKPOTTTTTT!"
Superior-5 stared.
Derek stopped dancing. Grinned.
Then he punched.
One hit. That was all it took.
Superior-5 flew backward like he'd been launched from a cannon, crashing through three walls before finally stopping in a crater of his own making. He tried to rise—
Derek was already behind him.
How did he—
The thought never finished. Derek's fist connected with his spine, and the world went white.
CRACK.
Superior-5's spinal cord snapped like a twig. He collapsed, paralyzed, his body crumpling to the ground.
Derek didn't stop.
He couldn't stop. The power was too much, too bright, too alive. He hit again. And again. And again. Each blow sending shockwaves through the mountain's broken body, reducing armor to scrap, flesh to pulp, bone to dust.
When it was over, Superior-5 was no longer recognizable as a person. He was just... pieces. Scattered across the burning ground in a spreading pool of grey and red.
Derek stood over the remains, breathing hard, his body thrumming with power he still didn't fully understand.
Then he felt it.
Eyes on him.
He turned.
Prime 10 stood fifty feet away, motionless amidst the chaos. Her dark grey mask was fixed on him, and through the slits, he could see her eyes—cold, calculating, utterly without fear.
She had watched everything. Every punch. Every kill. Every moment of his transformation.
Derek met her gaze. Something passed between them—an acknowledgment, a challenge, a promise.
They moved at the same instant.
No words. No warning. Just two forces of nature colliding in the center of the burning ruins.
Their fists met.
*BOOM. *
Derek's arm disintegrated.
From the elbow down, his right arm simply ceased to exist—shattered into a spray of blood and bone by the force of Prime 10's strike. He stared at the stump for a frozen moment, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.
Then the Pulse kicked in.
Blood flowed. Flesh knitted. Bone regrew.
In less than three seconds, his arm was back—whole, functional, perfect.
Derek flexed his new fingers, staring at Prime 10 with something that might have been awe.
She stared back, and behind that dark grey mask, something that might have been a smile was forming.
"Interesting," she said.
Derek grinned—wild, reckless, utterly unhinged.
"Let's do that again."
The fire roared around them, and the real fight began.