Wildcard was barely standing.
His ribs screamed with pain, his hands throbbed, raw and blistered from overusing Boiling Touch. The stink of burnt flesh, blood, and sweat clung to the air, thick and suffocating.
The bodies at his feet weren’t moving. Some twitched. Others let out wet, rattling breaths—what was left of Scarface’s gang after he burned through them.
Two were still standing.
Wildcard could barely lift his arms. His fingers curled weakly, but the boiling heat was gone now, drained from his body. He had nothing left.
And they knew it.
The bald man stood nearby, arms crossed, watching. Judging. This wasn’t just a fight anymore. It was a test.
Wildcard had two choices.
Win. Or die.
The first fighter moved.
A broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar across his nose rushed forward. Fast. Brutal. No hesitation.
Wildcard barely had time to react before Scar-Nose slammed a shoulder into his gut.
Pain exploded through Wildcard’s body. His knees buckled.
The second man—a lean, knife-wielding bastard—darted in from the side.
Wildcard twisted, barely avoiding the blade as it sliced the air where his ribs had been.
His foot caught on something, his balance shot—
Scar-Nose lunged again, swinging a brutal fist toward his jaw.
Wildcard braced for the hit.
And then—everything shifted.
His stomach lurched. His vision blurred.
His feet weren’t touching the ground.
A strange weightlessness spread through his body, tugging at his gut, throwing off his sense of balance. The familiar burn of Boiling Touch was completely gone now.
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Then it hit him.
New Ability: Slight Levitation.
His feet hovered just above the ground. Not much—two, maybe three inches—but enough to make him feel completely unsteady, like gravity wasn’t gripping him right. His muscles clenched, fighting against the unfamiliar sensation, but the more he struggled, the worse it got. He wasn’t just standing anymore. He was drifting.
Scar-Nose’s fist swung at his head.
Wildcard didn’t dodge—his body moved for him.
The attack missed by inches.
Scar-Nose hesitated, eyes narrowing.
Wildcard tried stepping forward. His foot glided forward too fast.
He almost fell face-first.
The knife-wielding thug lunged.
Wildcard wasn’t sure how he did it, but his body rose slightly—
The knife passed just beneath him, cutting nothing but air.
His heart pounded. His stomach twisted. His movements weren’t his own anymore—his body was adjusting on its own, reacting before he even had a chance to think. His legs weren’t doing what they were supposed to, but somehow, he was still dodging.
Scar-Nose recovered, letting out a growl as he rushed again, throwing his full weight into a grapple.
Wildcard let himself drop lower—ducking under the attack faster than he should have been able to.
Then he struck.
His elbow crashed into Scar-Nose’s throat.
The man gagged, choking.
The knife-wielder swung for Wildcard’s ribs.
Wildcard twisted awkwardly in midair—hovering just enough to avoid the strike.
Then he kicked forward.
His boot slammed into the man’s knee.
A sickening crack filled the alley.
The knife clattered to the ground. The man collapsed, clutching his ruined leg.
Wildcard landed unsteadily, his body swaying. His feet barely touched the dirt before he floated slightly again, like a marionette with its strings loose.
Scar-Nose was back on him.
This time, he didn’t go for a punch.
He tackled Wildcard outright.
Wildcard’s feet left the ground completely.
They hit the dirt together, Scar-Nose on top, fists slamming down.
Wildcard’s head snapped sideways, his vision exploding with white-hot pain.
Another punch.
His skull rattled.
A third—Wildcard barely turned his head in time, the fist grazing his temple.
Wildcard struggled, his whole body floating and shifting awkwardly beneath Scar-Nose’s weight.
The thug grinned down at him.
"Levitate out of this, freak."
Wildcard did something else instead.
He drove his forehead into Scar-Nose’s nose.
CRACK.
Scar-Nose reeled back, cursing.
Wildcard twisted, using his levitation to move in a way Scar-Nose didn’t expect.
He got his legs under the thug’s chest—
And then he kicked out with everything he had.
Scar-Nose went flying backward, crashing hard into the alley wall.
Wildcard hovered slightly, swaying from exhaustion.
The knife-wielding thug was still on the ground, clutching his knee, shaking in pain.
Scar-Nose bled from the nose, eyes unfocused.
Wildcard’s head spun. His breath came in short gasps.
The bald man hadn’t moved.
But now, finally, he spoke.
"That’s enough."
Scar-Nose froze.
The bald man stepped forward.
Wildcard swallowed, his body still hovering slightly.
The bald man studied him, then smiled.
It wasn’t a friendly smile.
"You’ve made your point," he said. "Now let’s talk about what happens next."
