Clancy and Mira moved in unison, instinctively falling into a rhythm. Mira ducked low, moving fast and erratic, drawing Alek's attention. Clancy darted left, then right—testing for openings, forcing Alek to track two fluid threats at once.
Alek's smug grin faltered—just slightly.
His drones zipped back into formation, orbiting like angry satellites. He sent two of them flying at Mira, but she was ready this time, planting a foot on the wall and flipping backward mid-dash, narrowly avoiding the strike. Clancy came in hot behind the distraction, twisting into a low kick aimed for Alek's legs.
Contact.
Clancy's foot clipped Alek's ankle—not enough to bring him down, but enough to break his rhythm. Alek's eyes widened, surprised he'd been touched at all.
Luca, having finally recovered from his drone-pummeling, sprinted into the fray with a roar, leaping straight into a flying punch.
Alek ducked.
But not fast enough.
Luca's fist grazed the side of Alek's head, snapping it to the side with a thud. It wasn't a clean hit, but it was a hit.
Alek stumbled.
He looked up slowly, blinking.
And then, for the first time since the match began, he looked pissed.
Clancy could feel it—the sudden pull in the air, like gravity tightening. The drones stopped moving. The room grew still. Even Garrick, standing at the far end of the hall with his arms crossed, straightened up.
Alek's voice, when he spoke, was low. Controlled. But sharp.
"You're not supposed to land hits."
Clancy felt the hairs on his arms rise. "Yeah? Guess we're slow learners."
Alek didn't smirk this time.
He threw both hands outward—and the room exploded.
Every drone launched at once, not in patterns now but in chaotic, looping strikes. They shattered into fragments mid-flight, breaking into smaller shards of metal that spun and buzzed like hornets. It was no longer clean, tactical telekinesis—it was rage.
Luca ducked just in time as a shard sliced past his shoulder, tearing through the sleeve of his shirt. Mira threw herself into a roll, only to get clipped across the side by a kinetic burst that flung her into the padded wall with a dull whump.
Clancy darted sideways—too late. He was caught mid-stride by an invisible force that lifted him a full foot off the ground and hurled him backward like a ragdoll. He hit the mat hard, coughing, the wind knocked out of him.
Alek was floating now—actually floating. His feet a few inches above the ground, arms raised like a conductor gone mad. The shattered drone pieces were swirling around him in a cyclone of metal.
"I was trying to be nice!" he snapped, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Do you know how boring it is holding back every day?!"
Clancy forced himself up, wincing.
'He's losing control.'
Mira slid next to him, clutching her ribs. "He's gonna kill us."
Luca was limping back into formation, blood on his brow but a fire in his eyes. "Not if we hit him first."
Clancy glanced at them both—his team, battered and exhausted—and then looked back at Alek.
The "kid" who'd nearly flattened them without breaking a sweat…
and was now going full-blown psychic storm.
'He's strong. But he's emotional. And emotion makes people reckless.'
Clancy gritted his teeth.
"Then we give him something to lose control over."
And with that, the three of them launched themselves back into the chaos, not as individuals—but as a unit.
The cyclone of metal shards spun tighter around Alek, catching the sterile white lighting and refracting it in sharp flashes. The air in the room had shifted—heavy with static, humming like a storm about to break.
Clancy could barely hear over the sound of the vibrating metal. Each step forward was a fight against invisible pressure, like walking through molasses that wanted to hurl you backward.
Alek wasn't speaking anymore. His mouth was tight, his brow furrowed, and his eyes glowed faintly—not with light, but with intensity, like his thoughts were burning holes in the air around him.
Across the room, Instructor Garrick finally moved.
His boots hit the mat hard as he marched forward, the usual command in his presence now paired with urgency. "Alek! Stand down. Now."
Alek didn't even flinch.
The fragments orbiting him accelerated—a scream of sharp metal against frictionless air.
Garrick narrowed his eyes. "I said—!"
Before he could finish, a blast of telekinetic force erupted outward.
Clancy watched in stunned awe as the air around Alek distorted like a heatwave, and Garrick—a mountain of a man—was lifted and thrown backwards like a toy. His clipboard shattered against the floor, and he slammed into the padded wall hard enough to leave an indent.
The room froze.
No one moved.
And then Alek's voice cut through the air—distorted and layered, as if someone else was speaking with him.
"You don't get to control me."
Clancy's heart pounded. He took a step forward, Mira beside him, Luca not far behind.
"We need to take him down," Mira muttered. "Or we're not walking out of here."
Luca winced, cradling his side. "Great. How do you KO a psychic hurricane?"
Clancy's eyes darted to the walls, then to the debris circling Alek. "We need to overload him. Make him focus on too many things at once. He's strong, but he's still a kid—he can't keep track of everything forever."
Mira nodded, already moving. "Draw his attention. I'll try to get close."
Luca grinned through a split lip. "Distract the telekinetic time wizard. Got it."
They split up again, flanking him in a loose triangle. Clancy ran first, zigzagging to throw off Alek's aim. Two shards launched at him—he ducked and rolled, one slicing just past his neck, close enough to draw blood.
Alek's head snapped toward him.
Mira seized the chance, running full-speed from the opposite direction. She vaulted off the wall, flipping through the air and aiming a precise kick toward Alek's back.
A sudden pulse of energy caught her mid-spin. She was thrown downward, hard, the wind knocked out of her as she crashed onto the mat.
Luca roared and threw a handful of debris—chunks of shattered drone casing—toward Alek's face.
It worked. Alek instinctively raised a hand to deflect the projectiles, and that split-second of effort gave Clancy an opening.
He rushed forward, ducking low, and drove a shoulder into Alek's side—not a full tackle, but enough to break his hover and knock him off-balance.
Alek stumbled—but the floating shards immediately retaliated, spinning and slamming into Clancy's back like a flurry of metal bats. Clancy cried out and hit the floor.
"Clancy!" Mira shouted, crawling toward him.
Luca ran in from the other side, trying to throw a knee into Alek's chest—but was met mid-air by a wave of kinetic force that flung him across the room like a ragdoll.
Alek was breathing heavily now. Not tired—angry. Like something inside him was boiling over.
His voice cracked, young but furious:
"I'm not a kid. I'm not weak. I'm not your experiment!"
Clancy forced himself to his knees. His vision was blurry, his ribs ached, and everything smelled like ozone.
"Alek…" he muttered, trying to push himself up.
A deep rumble filled the room as the metal shards stopped moving—and began vibrating in place.
Clancy realized it too late.
'He's not throwing them anymore. He's charging them.'
Before the storm could break loose—
"ALEK."
The voice that cut through the madness wasn't loud.
But it was clear. Firm. Familiar.
Mariana.
She'd been watching from the edge, frozen at first like the rest of them—but now, as her brother spiraled, she stepped forward with her usual calm intensity. Her towering frame was covered in sweat from her earlier sparring session, her blonde hair tied back, and her blue-accented uniform slightly torn at the shoulder.
But her expression wasn't afraid.
It was something else.
Resolute.
She walked slowly, hands raised—not as a threat, but as a sister.
"Alek. Look at me."
He turned toward her—eyes wide, teeth clenched, breath ragged.
"Don't," he snapped. "Don't you tell me to stop. You don't get it—none of you get it!"
Mariana kept walking. "I do."
The shards pulsed once, flickering like dying fireflies.
"You don't know what it's like in my head," Alek continued, voice cracking now. "Everything's loud. Everything's fast. I see it all. I hear time. I can't turn it off!"
"I know," Mariana said gently. "I know, baby brother."
He flinched.
"You don't remember, but I was there. The first time you touched the stream. You screamed for hours. You begged me to make it stop."
His breath hitched.
"I didn't know what to do," she said. "I was scared, Alek. I thought I lost you. But you came back. And I swore I'd never let you go through it alone again."
She was in front of him now, arms still up. She knelt.
"You're not alone."
Alek's lower lip trembled. His fingers flexed. The metal fragments paused midair.
"You're not an experiment. You're not a freak. You're my little brother."
One by one, the fragments dropped—clinking faintly onto the mat.
Alek's knees gave out, and he collapsed into Mariana's arms.
The storm was over.