Chapter 15: Eyes closed, spirits unbroken
The morning sun bled through the thin curtains of Liam's room, casting a pale glow across the worn-out desk and cluttered floor.
He stood in front of the mirror, buttoning his school shirt carefully, wincing at the sting of fresh bruises on his ribs and arms.
Behind him, Dreck leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, an uncharacteristic frown creasing his weathered face.
"You should stay home today," Dreck said, voice low but firm. "Your body's wrecked. Rest. Heal."
Liam tightened his grip on the collar, staring at his reflection. The boy who stared back wasn't the same kid from a few weeks ago — there was a new hardness behind his eyes, a weight that hadn't been there before.
"I can't," Liam muttered. "If I back down now... I lose."
Dreck exhaled through his nose, a long, heavy sound.
"Don't forget about the watch I gave to you, Emergency signal," Dreck explained. "Hit it if things go south."
Liam nodded once, and touched t
the watch with on his right arm.
Across town, Kaela stood in front of the cracked mirror in her tiny bathroom, wrapping fresh bandages around her knuckles. Her older brother Lucas leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching her with unreadable eyes.
"You look like hell," he said bluntly.
Kaela smirked faintly. "Feels worse."
Lucas shook his head.
"You sure you want to go today?"
She tied the final knot tightly and flexed her fingers.
"I'm not hiding," she said simply.
Lucas didn't argue. He knew better.
"Just... stay sharp," he said, his voice low. "They're not done with you yet."
Kaela grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, hiding her nerves behind a defiant grin.
"I'm counting on it."
---
The school bell rang out across the courtyard like a warning shot.
Liam and Kaela met up by the gate, both moving stiffly but pretending not to notice the way they each winced with every step. They exchanged a quick glance — no need for words. They knew the drill.
Inside the classroom, Lucas entered as the substitute teacher once again. He carried a small stack of notebooks under one arm, his sharp gaze sweeping across the students like a hawk surveying prey.
The chatter died instantly.
He set the books down with a soft thud and spoke without preamble.
"Today's lesson: reaction under pressure," he said. "And no, this isn't about math or history."
A ripple of confusion passed through the room.
Lucas picked up a piece of chalk and began drawing strange diagrams on the board — interconnected lines and angles that looked more like tactical battle formations than anything from a textbook.
"Most people," Lucas said, tapping the board with the chalk, "think strength wins fights. It doesn't. Awareness does. Precision does. Timing does."
He turned, his piercing eyes locking onto Liam and Kaela briefly — almost imperceptibly — before continuing.
"Today, we study controlled movement under stress. When life comes at you swinging, you don't freeze. You flow."
The rest of the lecture was intense but weirdly captivating, blending philosophy, practical strategy, and subtle hints of combat training hidden beneath layers of 'normal' schooling.
By the time the bell rang for dismissal, heads were spinning — but two students, in particular, understood the hidden message perfectly.
---
After school, Liam and Kaela walked side by side toward the school gate, their bags slung lazily over their shoulders.
Kaela was the first to break the silence, eyeing the bruises peeking out from under Liam's sleeve.
"You're a mess," she said, smirking. "Did you get into another fight without me?"
Liam snorted. "I could say the same about you. What's with your face? Looks like you lost a battle with a lawnmower."
They both chuckled weakly.
"Insane training," Liam admitted, rolling his shoulders. "Dreck nearly killed me."
"Same here," Kaela said, rubbing a sore spot on her wrist. "My master doesn't know the meaning of mercy."
They were still laughing about it when a heavy shadow fell over them.
Brody.
He stood just past the gate, arms crossed, his posture stiff with controlled rage. Around them, students paused, sensing the tension instantly.
Brody grinned, but it was a broken, ugly thing.
"Oh, look," he sneered. "The walking wounded. Or did you get into a fight with each other?"
Neither Liam nor Kaela answered.
Brody stepped closer, voice dropping low so only they could hear.
"Since you survived the last beating... heaven must want me to kill you myself."
Without warning, he lunged.
But Liam and Kaela moved, sidestepping easily — Brody's swings were fast, but nowhere near the lethal speed of the Atrium trials.
Frustrated, Brody reached into his pocket and palmed something — a tiny aerosol spray, barely noticeable.
While Liam and Kaela were maneuvering, he flicked it toward their faces and sprayed.
A sharp, burning sensation exploded across their eyes.
"My eyes!" Liam gasped.
"I can't open them!" Kaela cried.
The crowd around them gasped, murmurs spreading like wildfire.
"Did he just spray something?!"
"That's messed up!"
But Brody wasn't listening.
He grabbed the aluminum bat he had hidden nearby and swung viciously at Liam's blinded form.
At the last second, Liam ducked instinctively.
Whoosh!
The bat sailed harmlessly overhead.
Liam's body moved on its own, feeling the shifts in the air, the way Dreck had taught him.
Trust the instincts.
"I see what he's trying to do I can feel it, they're very slow," Liam said under his breath, forcing calm into his voice.
"If this is the best you've got, Brody... you're no where near ready to face me, Liam said trying to sound cool"
Brody snarled, red-faced.
"You think acting tough is gonna save you?!"
He swung again, harder — but Liam stepped sideways, as effortlessly as breathing.
Kaela, eyes squeezed shut, mirrored him — twisting, ducking, evading.
Brody's gang burst from the sidelines, four boys armed with bats, charging in to overwhelm them.
But even blind, Liam and Kaela were different now.
Their bodies read the air, the vibrations, the subtle threads of movement.
The bats swung — and missed.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
The watching students — John and his gang among them — stood frozen, mouths hanging open.
It was like watching a movie.
No — like reading a manga where the heroes dodge every blow without breaking a sweat.
"How... how are they doing that?!" John whispered.
Brody's rage boiled over.
"WHY CAN'T I HIT THEM?!"
"WHY ARE THEY MOVING LIKE THAT"
The bats grew slower. Sloppier.
The attackers grew tired, gasping for breath, their swings turning into desperate flails.
Kaela tilted her head toward Liam.
"Should we end this?"
Liam smiled faintly, despite the burning in his eyes.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's."
In perfect, silent unison, they moved.
Two blurs — one strike each.
A sharp tap at the side of each attacker's neck — a precise, surgical hit — and one by one, Brody and his gang collapsed unconscious onto the ground.
The courtyard erupted into stunned silence.
Then — thunderous applause.
Students cheered, clapped, whistled.
Some even laughed in disbelief.
John pushed through the crowd, urgency in his steps. He reached Liam and Kaela, holding out two bottles of water.
"Here," he said gruffly. "Wash your eyes."
Still half-blind, Liam and Kaela grabbed the bottles, splashing water desperately onto their faces.
Slowly, painfully, their vision returned — blurry at first, then sharper.
They blinked at John, surprised.
"Thanks," Liam rasped.
John shrugged. "It's nothing."
There was no hatred left in his voice. No anger. Only a strange kind of respect.
The crowd kept cheering, clapping wildly, shouting praise.
"What a fight!"
"That was insane!"
"I thought I was dreaming!"
They're like.. kinda cool, ya know"
Liam and Kaela, standing in the middle of the celebration, suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment.
They glanced at each other, faces flushed.
Then — wordlessly — they bolted through the crowd, slipping away as fast as they could.
Behind them, the applause followed — a crashing, roaring tide of admiration they couldn't quite outrun.