The air was thick with tension as Frank gripped his firearm, his instincts honed from years of combat screaming danger. One moment he had been on the seventh floor of a concrete building, and the next, reality twisted, leaving him in an eerily familiar yet desolate version of the same structure. The walls shimmered faintly, like fractured glass, and his footsteps echoed unnaturally in the vast emptiness.

  “Where the hell am I?” he muttered, his scarred hands tightening around his weapon, fingers brushing against the cold metal for reassurance.

  A faint laugh rang out, soft and mocking, reverberating through the hollow space. Frank raised his gun, spinning in place, scanning the room with his one good eye. He crept through the building, each floor revealing only shadows, until he finally descended to the ground level. Stepping outside, he was greeted by a sunny sky, birds flitting overhead, a stark contrast to the dread pooling in his gut. “Where am I?”

  With a surge of determination, Frank created a barrier around himself and took to the sky. Hovering over the city, he surveyed the ghostly landscape below. The streets were barren, devoid of life, a haunting reminder of what once was.

  His binoculars revealed a figure darting away in the distance. Stopping his flight, he leapt from building to building, careful to avoid detection. As he gained a clearer view, he retrieved a sniper rifle from his storage space, his heart pounding with adrenaline. Aiming carefully, he squeezed the trigger, the bullet striking the figure in the leg. The man screamed in agony, and Frank's heart raced as he waited for a savior to respond. When no one came, he pulled the trigger again, silencing the scream forever.

  Flying down, he approached the corpse, searching the pockets for answers. Nothing. As he removed the mask, his breath caught in his throat. The man’s face mirrored his own, identical down to the scars etched into their face and eye.

  “What the fuc…” Frank whispered, he quickly removed all his clothes and his body is identical to his down to the scars.

  Before he could process the implication, a gunshot rang out. Frank instinctively activated his barrier, the bullet crumpling against its surface. Frank looks up press a button and an detonating the bombs he planted killing the sniper, as smoke filled the air, mingling with the sound of shattering glass as grenades rained down from all directions. Frank's barrier held strong, but confusion gnawed at him.

  Frank takes out his assault rifer as he is surrounded by a mob with black clothing and he starts firing at them but the bullets are stopped by an invisible barrier something that confusies him greatly and he flys away switching weapons to a machine gun. He unleashed a hail of bullets, enhancing their velocity with his gravity manipulation, but they, too, were stopped short.

  The mob pursued him, flying through the air like phantoms. Frank wove between buildings, using the urban landscape to his advantage, frank starts using the buildings to attack them and crushing all of them with relentless force. But then, they suddenly stop pursing him and a car hurtled toward him, striking his barrier. He crushed it with a wave of his hand, only to be met with a barrage of vehicles—a bus and a truck followed suit.

  As he halted them, he realized they were filled with plastic bombs and grenades. They detonated, painting the sky with fire and debris, yet Frank remained unscathed. With a surge of determination, he manipulated the air, spinning it into a vortex that cut through the mob like a scythe leaving behind a blob of red.

  A moment of rest but as Frank looked up, his breath hitching as the sky darkened with an impossible sight—thousands of buildings hurtling toward him, each one laden with enough explosives to level entire blocks. The air itself seemed to hum with the sheer destructive energy contained within the descending structures.

  His heart pounded, but his instincts kicked in. He clenched his fists, and focused all his energy towards his gravity barrier. It shimmered around him, a translucent sphere of immense force.

  “I’m not going down here,” Frank growled, gritting his teeth as the first hundred of building struck.

  The explosion was massive, a thunderous eruption that sent shockwaves rippling across the city. His barrier absorbed the brunt of it, but the force began to overwhelm its structure. The shimmering field wavered, cracks forming as the next wave of detonations struck in rapid succession.

  Frank growled in defiance, his mind racing. Using his powers, he manipulated the air currents and the explosion’s energy itself, redirecting the force away from his position. Flames and debris twisted unnaturally, arcing around his barrier like a controlled inferno.

  More explosions followed. Each one tested the limits of his barrier, but Frank refused to let it fail. He pushed his gravity manipulation to its peak, compressing and redirecting the blasts. The redirected energy carved massive craters into the ground below, ripping through buildings and streets in a terrifying display of destruction.

  The entire city was collapsing. Towers toppled like dominos, and roads buckled and split open, spewing molten debris. Fire consumed everything in its path, and the skyline became an unrecognizable wasteland.

  Amid the chaos, Frank soared through the air, surrounded by his shimmering barrier. But even with his redirection, the force of the detonations was too great to avoid completely. A final, cataclysmic explosion struck, larger and more violent than the rest.

  The shockwave hit like a freight train, and Frank’s barrier flickered violently, its structure breaking apart as he was hurled through the air. He crashed to the ground, skidding across the rubble as his barrier finally gave out.

  Smoke and fire filled the sky as Frank pushed himself to his knees, blood dripping from his wounds. His breathing was heavy, his body battered but still functional. He had survived the explosion, but the destruction of the city was absolute.

  Frank pushed himself to his knees, blood dripped from his wounds. He had survived, but the city lay in ruins around him. As his vision cleared to reveal an ominous sight—tens of thousands of black-clad figures emerging from the haze, As he stood, his vision cleared to reveal the ominous silhouettes of a mob in black emerging from the haze they numbers were in the tens of thousands, "No rest for the wicked but I should tell you that I haven't used my secret move to save my energy but I have no choice." Frank yelled as he stood up and he lifts up his hands and in seconds starts crusing every single one of they vital organs killing them all and he drops to his knees his body covered his burns and he is breathing heavy, "That's it no more power left... I Have to figure out a way out here."

  Frank staggered to his feet, his body trembling with exhaustion. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of burning rubble. He clenched his fists, summoning the last reserves of his strength for once again he was surrounded by a mob in black but they numbers had tripled, so he scanned the crowd.

  Then he noticed it—their movements had become synchronized, precise. A cold chill ran down his spine as one figure stepped forward, removing their mask.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Frank’s heart sank. The face staring back at him was his own, down to the scar over his left eye.

  One by one, the others followed suit, unveiling identical faces. Tens, hundreds, thousands of Frank’s own likenesses stared back at him, their eyes cold and unfeeling.

  “Thank you.” one of them said, their voice a distorted echo of his own.

  Before Frank could react to this new reality, he felt a sharp pain as a bullet hit his back. He fell to the ground, the world fading into darkness.

  Vergil cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. "Well, we were going door to door checking to see if there was someone in this building when a man appeared—"

  Suddenly, Karabo materialized infront of Vergil, with an unconscious Frank at her feet, "I got him!" she announced, her voice laced with triumph.

  Vergil blinked in surprise, "Karabo was the first to react. She disappeared with him and reappeared moments later with him subdued."

  Sheila nodded approvingly, "Okay, continue heading upstairs."

  Karabo glanced down at the incapacitated Frank, a satisfied smile on her face. The team quickly regrouped and proceeded up the stairs, their mission pressing forward despite the unexpected encounter.

  On the second floor of the dimly lit, abandoned building, Team A found themselves locked in a fierce battle with Blade, a formidable opponent whose katana gleamed ominously under the flickering red lights overhead.

  “I wonder what will fail first, my katana or your skin?” Blade taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.

  “Your fight is with all of us,” Gift replied, determination etched on his face.

  “None of you interest me, so you can leave right now, and I won’t kill you. You have my word,” Blade sneered, his confidence palpable.

  With a burst of energy, Gift charged forward, closing the distance between them. He aimed a straight right at Blade, but the skilled fighter dodged effortlessly, using his katana to slice at Gift’s stomach. The blade met the reinforced fabric of Gift's uniform, stopping his blade. Swiftly, Blade leveraged the katana’s edge to lift Gift and throw him against the cold, hard wall and Blade rushed in to finish him off and John chased after him.

  In a fluid motion, Blade spun, aiming to slice John in half, but instead, his elbow connected with Gift's nose, fracturing it with a sickening crunch. John seized the moment, launching an electrical beam at Blade, but the agile fighter rolled out of the way, leaving Gift to bear the brunt of the attack.

  Moosa attempted to capitalize on the chaos, charging at Blade with a knee strike, but was met with a powerful kick to the gut, sending him crashing into John. Blade, now aware of the slick ground beneath him, leaped instinctively, only to find himself engulfed in a swirling ball of water.

  With a swift swing of his katana, he unleashed a shockwave that obliterated the water around him. “It seems one of you may offer some sort of a challenge,” he remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.

  Mandisa gathered the moisture in the air, encasing Blade in an icy iron maiden. Just as the doors were about to close, Blade unleashed his fury, slicing through the icy prison as if it were mere paper.

  Liz walked up to Mandisa, "Why are you having problems against noname NPCs?"

  Mandisa looked at Liz, "He is hiding something that is why he is relaying on his physical capabilities and sword skills, so I want to force him to use everything he has and then finish him off... pause."

  "Yeah I will be taking over because that is just too much time to waste on an NPC; I mean he hasn't even moved NPC behaviour." Liz pointed out as she walked towards Blade.

  Blade laughed, shaking his head dismissively. “I am a trained killer. No matter who steps up they will..."

  Liz cut Blade off mid-sentence with an exaggerated, mocking tone. “Whe-whe-weh! Nobody cares. Seriously, we didn’t even ask for your name. Do you know why? Because nobody cares. Just hurry this up already.”

  Blade narrowed his eyes, momentarily stunned by her dismissive attitude. “You know bullets from your fancy weapons don’t work on me, right?”

  Liz gasped dramatically, clutching her chest in mock fear. “Oh no! You broke the sound barrier! Please, don’t hurt me.” Her sarcastic tone dripped with disdain.

  Blade inhaled deeply, closing his eyes to focus. He wasn’t going to let her get under his skin. Instead, he decided to end this swiftly. Activating his ultimate move—Godspeed—he surged forward, moving faster than lightning itself.

  But something was wrong.

  As he stepped forward, his left leg snapped backward instead, nearly throwing him off balance. He froze, confused, and tried to compensate with his right leg, only for it to jerk sideways like a puppet with its strings cut. His arms followed suit, flailing in directions opposite to his intent, twisting grotesquely in ways they shouldn’t.

  Liz watched Blade struggle, his body flailing in chaotic movements he couldn’t control. She didn’t attack, though he was utterly vulnerable.

  Liz gaze shifted to the reflection of a nearby window. Completely unconcerned about the fight, she reached up to adjust her hair and smooth out a wrinkle in her outfit. The light from the window caught her face as she tilted her head, inspecting her reflection with the precision of someone preparing for a photoshoot, not a battle.

  Blade he opponent was still struggling, “What the hell is this?” he thought, panic clawing at the edges of his mind. His movements became increasingly erratic, his body betraying him as if it had a will of its own. Every step forward sent him spiraling backward, every attempt to steady himself only made him stumble more violently.

  His thoughts raced. “She must’ve used her power on me… but how? When?”

  Desperation bubbled to the surface as he by forcing his mouth shut but nothing happed and blade grinned believing that he found a loop hole and now hoped to bait Liz into revealing her secret. But even his voice betrayed him.

  “Derewoprevo si ytiliba rouy yas tsum I…”

  The words were garbled and reversed, spilling out in a way that made no sense even to him. The sound of his own twisted voice only deepened the panic surging through him.

  But Blade face contorted into a wide, unnatural grin, stretching so far it made his muscles ache. The forced smile was utterly horrifying, a grotesque mockery of his fear and confusion.

  "Like I said No name NPC." Liz said as she allowed Blade to look at her and she is point her gun at him; when they lock eyes tears welled up in his eyes, started streaming down his face as his body betrayed him further. The act of smiling hurt more than anything else—a cruel mockery of his fear and humiliation.

  Liz let out a mocking laugh, each "ha" sharper and more piercing than the last. Her voice echoed with a cruel sense of finality as she stepped closer to Blade, who now knelt trembling, his smile twisted into a grotesque reflection of his despair.

  “All those days, months, years—hell, decades—spent training,” she said, her tone dripping with derision. “All that effort, all that discipline. And yet, here you are, as powerless as the day you began. Everything you built, everything you believed, forged by the axiomatic mindset that training would make you invincible. But in a single moment, reality itself has been inverted."

  She tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Because without Law, there is only Chaos.”

  The sound of the hiss of the tranquilizer leaving the barrel of Liz’s gun offered Blade an end to this humiliation. His body shuddered once, then collapsed to the ground, his limbs slack as unconsciousness overtook him.

  “You’ve improved your power, Liz.” Theresa noted.

  “Yeah, I can manifest in waves now improving the speed and make it affect several parts to the thing, like Blade's brain.” Liz explained.

  “Is everyone okay?” Mandisa asked.

  “Yeah.” Moosa replied, brushing himself off as he got to his feet.

  Gift, still rolling on the floor, interjected, “I think my nose is broken.”

  John leaned against the wall, shaking his head. “How hard is your head? You damn near gave me a concussion.”

  “You both deserved it. We had to work as a team because of Isa and Liz. None of our parents will have to write a eulo--" Theresa began, but the sudden arrival of Pretty interrupted her.

  “Here’s Pretty!” yelled Pretty as she rushed down the stairs.

  “Hi,” Liz replied, grinning.

  “It’s over, damn,” Pretty remarked, catching her breath.

  Miri, sprinting closely behind Pretty, chimed in, “Here’s Miri.”

  “She already did that one,” Theresa countered.

  “You stole my thunder,” Miri shot back playfully.

  “Where is the rest of your team?” John asked, shifting his focus.

  “They're right behind me. Just give them a couple of minutes,” Miri explained, her eyes darting toward the staircase.

  “Should we call it in?” Mandisa asked, glancing at John.

  “Oh, yes, Sheila,” John confirmed, pulling out his communicator.

  “What?” Sheila's voice crackled through the device.

  “We rendezvoused with Miri’s team, but we were confronted by one person,” John reported.

  “Okay, check the remaining rooms and see if you haven’t missed anything,” Sheila instructed.

  “Doesn’t make sense why just six guards and then the elite force.” Sheila muttered to herself, deep in thought.

  “What are you mumbling to yourself about?” Rosina asked, appearing beside her.

  “Nothing.” Sheila replied, a hint of worry lingering in her tone.