Chapter 3: Unseen Forces
Jordan stood at the edge of the gymnasium, still trying to shake off the shock of his unexpected pairing with Naomi. The whole class had been watching-the whispers had started the moment the announcement was made, and they hadn't stopped since. Naomi had moved like lightning-faster than anyone he'd ever faced. It was as if her spiritual energy didn't just enhance her speed but bent reality around her. He'd never fought anyone like her. He hadn't won. But it didn't matter. There was something about her-a calm strength that was both unnerving and... alluring.
He could still recall every detail of that brief confrontation during the drills. In the heat of the final tag game, as sweat mingled with the raw elemental energy that pulsed through the gym, his heart had pounded with equal parts frustration and admiration. "Nice moves, Carter," the sarcastic voice of Mateo Alvarez had interrupted his thoughts. Jordan didn't even have to look to know who it was.
"Thanks," Jordan had muttered, still glaring at Naomi. By that time, she was already back on her side of the room, silently adjusting her PE skirt and preparing for the next activity. She didn't even look at him, but Jordan could feel her presence-almost like a tangible weight suspended in the charged air.
Mateo sauntered up to him, his steps smooth and calculated. But today, there was something off about him. He was watching Naomi-too intently. Jordan noticed the way Mateo's eyes flickered toward her, almost possessively. "You've got potential," Mateo said in a low voice, as if speaking to a lesser ally. "But that girl..." He gestured toward Naomi, his usual charm momentarily gone, replaced by something colder. "She's trouble."
Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Trouble? She looks like she's more trouble for you than for me."
Mateo's gaze flicked back to Naomi, his lips curving into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You're not the only one with eyes on her."
Jordan scoffed and rolled his shoulders, turning away from the confrontation. He wasn't interested in Mateo's games-especially when they involved Naomi. The thought of some unspoken power struggle between Mateo and Naomi churned in him, a dangerous mix of protectiveness and simmering rivalry that he couldn't quite place.
As he walked out of the training hall, Amara caught up with him. Her vibrant purple hair bounced with each step, and her tone was laced with genuine concern. "What was that about?" she asked sharply, her eyes searching his for any hint of vulnerability.
"Nothing," Jordan replied hastily, running a hand through his hair as if to dispel the lingering disquiet. "Mateo's just being Mateo. He doesn't like the fact that Naomi's here, but I'm not interested in whatever his problem is."
Amara raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You've been watching her a lot today."
For a split second, Jordan's gaze shifted uncertainly as he considered her words. "I'm not looking at her-you are," he retorted, though even as he spoke, he knew the truth was far more complicated. His eyes had indeed locked with hers in that brief moment during the drills-a silent challenge, an unspoken conversation that neither could fully decode.
"No, you are. I know you, Jordan," Amara said softly, her voice a blend of teasing and genuine worry. "You've never reacted like this before. This isn't just about her being new."
Jordan's gaze drifted toward the large windows lining the gym, beyond which clusters of students gathered in the courtyard. "I don't know what it is," he admitted quietly. "There's something about her-like she's holding something back. I can feel it, like a current beneath the surface. And I don't know if it's danger or fate."
Amara's expression softened, but the gravity in her eyes remained. "Just be careful, alright? This place-" She paused, her voice growing harder. "Mateo doesn't lose control easily. And when he does, it's not pretty. He'll make sure you're the one who feels the fallout."
Jordan looked down at the ground, his thoughts swirling with questions and a dread he couldn't quite shake. He had to figure out where this was all headed. One thing was clear: Naomi Takahashi was at the center of it all.
---
Later that afternoon, on the sunlit rooftop of Blackridge Academy, Jordan found himself alone-at least until his thoughts were interrupted by familiar footsteps. He sat on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the side, the wind rustling his hoodie in a way that made him feel both free and solitary. This rooftop was his sanctuary-a place where he could escape the cacophony of gymnasium and classrooms, and where the vast sky offered him solace.
But today, even this haven did little to ease his troubled mind. His thoughts kept returning to Naomi. There was something inexplicably intense in her eyes-the way they seemed to assess everything, yet reveal nothing. She wasn't merely a transfer student, he realized; she was a force unto herself. One who might be mastering a power unlike anything he had encountered, and perhaps one who was always a step ahead in the intricate game of hidden destinies.
Footsteps echoed softly behind him, and before Jordan could turn, a familiar voice interjected, "You like her, don't you?"
Jordan's gaze snapped upward to find Amara standing there, her arms crossed over her chest. Though her expression was typically nonchalant, there was a glimmer in her eyes-a mixture of curiosity and an unspoken warning.
"I don't know if it's like that," Jordan began, trying to sound casual as he shifted his weight. "She's just... interesting. There's something about her that I can't really explain."
Amara chuckled, a sound both light and edged with concern. "Yeah, sure. Just be careful, okay? Naomi's not like the others. She's got a mission, a secret purpose. And if you get too involved, you might just end up caught in the middle."
Jordan looked out over the sprawling campus, watching students and faculty mingling far below. "I'm already in the middle," he admitted, his tone resigned yet defiant.
Amara's eyes softened for a moment, and she offered a brief smile before her expression turned serious once more. "Don't say that. I know how unpredictable things can get around here. If Mateo or anyone else starts stirring up trouble because of her, I don't know if you'll be able to handle it."
Her words hung in the air between them-a mix of affection and an almost maternal concern that deepened the already complex tapestry of his emotions. Jordan leaned back, letting his legs dangle as he tried to make sense of it all. He wondered if the collision of fates that brought Naomi here was something he could control or if it would forever entangle him in a web of challenges he might not escape.
---
The next day in the school's courtyard, a palpable tension simmered among the gathering students. Groups huddled together, and whispered speculations about the new dynamics filled the air. Naomi moved through the crowd with an almost ethereal grace-each step measured, each movement calm and deliberate. Her presence drew admiring, envious, and occasionally wary glances from every corner. Jordan watched her from a distance, the memory of her flawless agility in the gym etched into his mind like a challenge. He scanned the crowd, searching for the elusive girl whose every move seemed to defy gravity and expectation.
Across the courtyard, Mateo lingered near his usual posse, his eyes never straying far from Naomi. His gaze was possessive in a way that sent subtle warnings to those around him. The beautiful Serena Montgomery Queen of black, an observant student with a knack for uncovering secrets, stood with her inner circle of Baddies. Her eyes followed Naomi with a mixture of curiosity and unmistakable intrigue.
"She isn't prettier than me. Is she?" Serena teased with her friends as Naomi passed by. Naomi simply brushed this off though.
Something significant was brewing-a convergence of unseen forces that connected power, passion, and peril.
Jordan felt the familiar pull of destiny as he moved through the throng of students with his broad. The energy in the courtyard was different today, charged with both the promise of possibilities and the weight of impending doom. Every whisper, every stray look, and every tiny spark of supernatural abilities hinted that the forces at work were more than mere adolescent powers-they were personal, transformative, and dangerous.
As he passed through the crowd, Jordan's thoughts churned with the usual memories of discipline, defiance, and danger. He recalled the harsh reprimands, the stark warnings, and the uneasy glances thrown in his direction by teachers and peers alike. Blackridge was a school of incredible potential, but it was also a crucible where every misstep could have severe consequences.
He resolved to stay vigilant-if he was to navigate the labyrinth of shifting tides and rivalries, he'd have to keep his guard up. And above all, he needed to figure out what Naomi was up to. Was she merely another talented student or was she up to something sinister?
---
Later that day, after the cacophony of classes and hallway banter had somewhat settled, Jordan found himself back in the gymnasium during PE, determined to shake off the lingering doubts from the day's earlier events. The gym, now a familiar battleground of sweat and determination, offered him yet another chance to prove himself-this time against his own limitations.
Jordan entered the gymnasium with a mix of determination and apprehension. The room was alive with the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished hardwood, the rhythmic thump of heartbeats, and the occasional burst of laughter echoing off the high ceilings. As he stepped through the entrance, he made sure to pause by the wall where he had first tied his laces the previous day. Kneeling down, he carefully tied the laces of his Jordan 1 SB pandas. He looked up, noticing several students casting side glances his way as they watched him secure the tight knots. Their silent judgments, though routine at Blackridge, only fueled his resolve.
Standing up, he remembered Naomi's fluid movements on the gym floor and the way her eyes had locked with his earlier, a moment that now replayed in his mind like a silent promise. The memory bolstered his spirit, if only a little.
Just then, the booming voice of the instructor cut through the ambient noise. "Quiet down, listen up! Today we're doing a little bit of a parkour race," he announced with a devilish grin that sent ripples of excitement and trepidation through the room. His voice carried the authority of years spent training supernaturally gifted athletes, and it resonated off every polished surface in the gymnasium.
At that very moment, the entire gym's ambience changed. The sound of gears turning-creaking and whirring as if the very floor were a giant, mechanical beast-filled the space. The deep, metallic clank of shifting metal and the sizzling hiss of heating metal plates set pulses racing in the hearts of the gathered students. A few girls screamed in alarm, their voices rising in a cacophony of shock as everyone rushed toward the nearest gym walls. Those with even the slightest aptitude for flight found themselves hovering just a few inches above the ground.
Then, as if unveiling a hidden secret, the gym floor began to open. With a grinding, ominous rumble, the polished floor gave way to reveal an extremely dangerous obstacle course below. The course was a veritable deathtrap of engineered perils: flaming rings leapt out from the opening floor with tongues of fire crackling against the air, rotating spikes glinted menacingly as they whirled on precarious platforms, deep gaping holes lined with razor-sharp metal shards beckoned unsuspecting challengers, and a series of electrified floors crackled with blue-white arcs that danced dangerously near the students' feet. In one section, colossal swinging axes and laser grids blinked into view, while in another, a set of collapsing platforms jutted out over a chasm filled with jagged spikes and there was what seemed to be a bottomless pit.
"Okay, guys," the instructor's voice boomed again, cutting through the rising tide of fear and anxiety brought on by the sight of the course. "Here's the deal: the first five to finish this obstacle course will earn immunity from one activity in any class we have after this." For a split second, the promise of escaping one of the instructor's infamous brutal challenges sent ecstatic murmurs across the crowd. But the euphoria was quickly tempered by the sinking truth: for that immunity, they had to run through what was essentially a literal death course.
Before anyone could dwell on their mounting moral dilemmas, the instructor's voice rang out once more with an amused sneer, "But of course that would be unfair-so if you don't want to run the course, just say-"
Before he could finish, about half the girls in the gym shouted in unison, "I don't!" Their voices trembled with both fear and defiance.
"Very well-drop and give me a 1000 push-ups!" the instructor bellowed. The gym erupted in groans and exasperated yelps as some of the braver (or more stubborn) girls braced themselves for the unexpected punishment. Not to be outdone, the instructor continued, "And as for the rest of you, if you want any chance at earning that immunity, you'll start by forming 20 lines of 25 at the front of the obstacle course!"
Soon, students began filing up at the designated line, their faces a mixture of determination and dread. Jordan found himself in the fourth row from the right, his number reading "15" in the ever-growing line.
The instructor-Coach Maverick, as everyone called him-took center stage. With a flash of confidence in his steely eyes, he declared, "Here are the rules: You have 30 minutes to finish the course. In the first half of the course, no one is allowed to attack anyone with their abilities-but you can use your powers to help you overcome obstacles. However, if you destroy any part of the course, you can kiss your immunity goodbye, and I'll personally make you do 5000 push-ups-just like your former mates over there!"
His words punctuated by a pointed glance at the group of rebellious students who had already tried to test the limits. A loud collective groan rose from the girls already engaged in push-up punishment.
"And now, begin! Oh, and no flying!" Coach Maverick added with finality. The sound of his voice echoed off the newly revealed walls of peril, setting the stage for what was to come.
With that, the race was on.
The gym erupted into chaotic movement. Each student dove headfirst into the treacherous course. The first obstacles were a series of flaming rings suspended in mid-air. They swung gently in rhythm with the whir of mechanical gears-Overhead, the rings burst into bright orange flames, each one snapping shut like the jaws of a hungry beast. Jordan, with his dual-energy manipulation swirling in a soft vortex of cerulean and crimson, lunged forward. He felt his heart pounding as the heat brushed against his skin. With a surge of agility, he dodged the first ring, the fire roaring past him in an explosive boom.
Just then, a group of five boys and five girl-joined the fray with a burst of adrenaline. Among the boys was Elias, whose magnetism allowed him to hurl small metal objects at high speed; Ronan, who relied on brief bursts of super speed; Quentin, whose telekinetic waves enabled him to manipulate obstacles; Darius, whose earthy power could cause minor tremors that unsettled the ground; and Felix, whose sound manipulation produced sonic booms that sometimes shattered nearby objects.
The girls, not to be outdone, formed a formidable squad of their own: Ivy, with her uncanny ability to grow and control plants and vines; Luna, who manipulated illumination and darkness to create dazzling light barriers; Kaia, whose enhanced acrobatics left her nimbly weaving through obstacles; Sabrina, skilled at temporary invisibility to bypass certain traps; and Raina, who could coax water moisture into forming dangerous jets or slippery paths.
As the race ensued, Jordan navigated the flaming rings with an athletic grace that belied the danger. His sneakers-his prized Jordan 1s-pounded the ground with rhythmic "thuds," and the sound blended with the cacophony around him. Every footfall, every leap, resonated like a defiant heartbeat against the dangers below.
The course then shifted abruptly. The floor cracked with a thunderous crash as a series of rotating spiked blades emerged from beneath a section of the gym floor. The blades spun menacingly, the clattering of metal an ominous clank, and the air hissed as sparks flew off against the concrete. Jordan, with his eyes narrowed in focus, sprinted forward, relying on his enhanced reflexes to time his leaps perfectly. Just when it seemed the blades might catch him, he released a short burst of red energy that propelled him upward, his body soaring over the spinning danger, as he landed safely on the other side.
In the midst of the chaos, a commotion erupted from the group of ten closely behind Felix and Ivy, caught up in the adrenaline of the moment, both attempted an overzealous maneuver to clear an elaborate section of obstacles-a raised platform lined with pulsating electric grids and swinging chains. Felix's sonic boom, intended to shatter the electrified shields blocking his path, instead reverberated through the structure. At the same time, Ivy's vines, meant to anchor her steps, wrapped around a critical section of the course, causing a cascade of collapsing beams and shattered metal. The sound was cataclysmic-a cacophony of destruction-as part of the obstacle course was brutally destroyed.
Coach Maverick's booming voice cut through the chaos. "Felix! Ivy! You've just demolished the entire section-5000 push-ups for each of you!" His words were met with a collective groan and a few stifled cries from their peers as the punished duo was quickly escorted away by stern-looking assistants.
Returning his focus to the race, Jordan pressed onward. Along the winding course, he encountered a perilous array of challenges. There were deep holes lined with jagged spikes that threatened to tear through the soles of his sneakers; sections of the floor that tilted violently, forcing competitors to balance with every step; and platforms that intermittently collapsed with a deafening crumble-leaving only a narrow ledge of safety.
Meanwhile, Naomi advanced with a quiet, almost anglic grace. Her agility and spiritual energy lent her an otherworldly efficiency. She moved fluidly, her eyes focused and her body seemingly impervious to the physical risks of the course. Though she did not display overt aggression, her precise movements and an uncanny ability to predict when obstacles would shift or collapse set her apart. She utilized her basic phasing ability to slip through particularly hazardous traps-just a flicker of motion and she was gone, only to reappear on the safe side, her calm expression never wavering.
As the course continued, Amara took a different approach. Utilizing her ability to phase between states, she managed to blend her physical presence with fleeting illusions. With heightened senses that allowed her to detect even the slightest shifts in the course, she moved with a sense of internal rhythm that made her nearly untouchable by the hazards. Although she had limitations on her phasing ability, she conserved it for the trickiest sections-carefully timing her transitions to avoid the risk of -----. Her performance was mesmerizing, drawing envious looks from some and awe from others.
Leo, too, participated in the race. Under the semi-strong influence of his tobacco cigarette-which he clutched tightly between his fingers-he allowed his mind to become a weapon. In a moment of inspiration, he conjured a fleeting ability: a temporary surge of inhuman strength that enabled him to vault over a particularly difficult spike pit. The flames and sparks that erupted as he landed, combined with his wild, focused gaze, marked him as a danger not only to the obstacles but to anyone who dared contest his path. Though his transformation was brief and unpredictable, it was enough to earn him valuable seconds on the course, albeit not enough to secure a top finish.
The race grew even more frantic as the clock ticked down. The sounds of sneakers pounding against metal, the shrill whistles of approaching deadlines, and the constant clanging of obstacles fighting back created a symphony of chaos that reverberated through the gymnasium. Among the competitors, the remaining students-Elias, Ronan, Quentin, Darius, and the remaining five girls (Luna, Kaia, Sabrina, Raina, and Becky she had been keeping a low profile)-struggled valiantly, each displaying their unique abilities in moments of brilliance and mishap. Their individual struggles, filled with bursts of energy and moments of panic, served as a microcosm of the challenges faced by everyone at Blackridge.
Jordan found himself nearing a particularly difficult segment of the course-a long, narrow bridge suspended over a pit of rotating, electrified disks. The bridge trembled with a low "vrrrr" as it swayed under the weight of the competitors. His heart pounded in time with the steady knocking. Every step was a test of balance and timing. In that moment, he stole a glance to the side-scanning the throng of racing peers-always searching, always hoping to catch a glimpse of Naomi's determined expression.
Then, like a flash, Amara appeared ahead of him. With swift precision, she vaulted over a burning spike trap, her form blurring for a split second as she activated her phasing ability at just the right moment. The crowd could only gasp in awe as she landed flawlessly on the other side, her eyes glinting with the thrill of victory. Inspired by her fearless pace, Jordan pushed himself harder, summoning his dual energies to propel him forward. The blue and red hues danced along his fingertips as he sprinted, each burst igniting sparks that illuminated the dangerous path ahead.
Soon, the finish line loomed-a symbolic gateway to immunity and relief. In the final stretch, the obstacle course became even more treacherous. Several platforms crumbled and reformed in rapid succession-a chaotic dance of stone and metal, each segment punctuated by the desperate shouts of students and the punishing sound of breaking supports. Amid these collapsing challenges, a few of the extra students faltered; one of them, Quentin, misjudged his telekinetic push and nearly toppled over a section of falling platforms. He recovered, but not without cost. Others struggled through narrow gaps where liquid sparks and screeching metal threatened to engulf them.
Then it happened. Jordan's final sprint toward the finish line coincided with a crucial moment of teamwork-an opportunity that fate had designed. As he rounded a corner, he saw Amara already rounding the final obstacle, with Naomi and Leo close behind. Despite the chaos, their paths converged in a harmonious, almost cinematic rhythm. In a split-second decision, Jordan and Amara exchanged a determined glance, a silent agreement to work together at this critical juncture.
Amara, leveraging her phasing ability with perfect timing, darted ahead to disable a particularly vicious trap-a series of electrified, rotating axes suspended over a narrow beam. With a swift, calculated dash, she phased through the field just as one of the axes swung dangerously close. In her wake, a surge of illusionary duplicate images confused some of their competitors, momentarily buying her crucial seconds. Jordan, riding the momentum of her lead, unleashed a carefully aimed blast of blue energy. The impact produced a resonant "boom" as he shattered a segment of an electrified barrier that had been slowing Naomi and Leo down. The obstacle trembled and fell apart in a shower of sparks, and the path cleared suddenly.
At that moment, the finish line came into view. In the final breathless seconds of the race, the order became clear: Amara burst through first, her triumphant smile lighting up her face as she crossed the line. Jordan followed closely in second place, a mix of exhilaration and relief etched on his features. Naomi, ever the composed warrior, finished third with a quiet nod and an air of solemn victory. Leo trailed behind in fourth, his wild eyes and ragged breathing evidence of his impulsive surge.
The gymnasium erupted in cheers and exclamations as the race ended. The students had pushed themselves to the limit, and every sound-the echoing thud of footsteps, the sizzling, crackling impacts of obstacles, and the collective gasp of astonishment-was a testament to their resilience. Coach Maverick's booming laughter mixed with the clamor, congratulating the top finishers and reminding the rest of the consequences if they had chosen to forgo the deadly challenge altogether.
As the victorious competitors caught their breath, the remnants of the course still smoldered below. Still, the memory of every perilous obstacle-the flames that flew past, the metallic "clank" of rotating spikes, the "crash" of collapsing platforms-remained vivid in every participant's mind. The teamwork between Jordan and Amara had not only secured their positions but also sent a clear message: in the unpredictable chaos of Blackridge Academy, destiny often favored those who dared to unite their strengths in the face of overwhelming danger.
Meanwhile, amid the jubilant celebrations, whispers spread about the two extra students who had unwittingly destroyed a part of the obstacle course-Felix and Ivy. Their overzealous application of sound and vine manipulations had wreaked havoc on one particularly intricate section of the course. Coach Maverick's subsequent decree of "5000 push-ups" for each echoed as a stern reminder of the academy's uncompromising discipline. The groans from their fellow students underscored the severity of the punishment, and for a long moment, silence reigned over that section of the gym.
As the adrenaline ebbed away, the aftermath of the race left Jordan with a mix of emotions. The triumph of the race was tinged with the bitter taste of near defeat and the ever-present burden of responsibility. Amid the clamor of congratulatory shouts and the relieved laughter of peers, he recalled every moment-.
Walking away from the course, his sneakers still echoing with the residual "thud-thud" of his determined strides, Jordan felt a renewed sense of purpose. Each step toward the finish had been a battle against not only the physical hazards but his own doubts. The race had illuminated the dynamic interplay of his dual energies-a vivid mix of light and shadow-and confirmed that, despite the challenges, he was capable of transcending them.
In the lingering haze after the race, as the gym slowly returned to normal and the obstacle course was cordoned off for repairs, Jordan exchanged a look with Amara. Her eyes shone with determination and a spark of friendship deeper than rivalry. "Nice work today," she said quietly, her tone equal parts admiration and relief.
"Yeah," Jordan replied, running a hand through his hair and glancing around at the exhausted faces of his peers. "I guess we're all getting stronger in ways we never expected."
Jordan paused to catch his breath. He leaned against a wall, sweat beading on his brow. He was beyond tired but still had to make it to the last class of the day.
He left the gym and went straight for the locker where he took a quick shower and headed for his Mythology & Ancestral Power Studies class in room 708. He left at the end of class but Amara still had something to do since she's the substitute class representative and the main class rep, Ivy, was in the infirmary because of the mountain loaded push-ups she was forced to do. As he walked down the hallway after the last class, his mind was still buzzing from the race and his brief interactions with Naomi and Mateo earlier. Just as he reached for his locker, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a message: Dont leave early after school I need to talk to you-N."