Orion struggled with every ounce of strength in his body, his muscles burning as he thrashed against the unseen force pinning him. But no matter how fiercely he kicked or twisted, his efforts were useless. The pressure crushing against his chest and limbs wasn't coming from a tangible opponent—there was nothing solid to grab, nothing to wrestle against. It was like fighting the air itself… because, in a way, that's exactly what he was doing.
His legs flailed helplessly, boots scraping the rough wall behind him. Panic surged through him as he craned his neck to the right, desperate for an answer. That was when he caught sight of an unsettling scene in the distance.
There stood Xander—arm outstretched, fingers splayed toward him—with an expression twisted in annoyance. The sharp scowl etched across Xander's face wasn't just irritation; it was controlled fury.
"Wait…" Orion muttered under his breath, realization dawning. "Is he the one doing this? Is he… controlling the wind—?"
Before he could complete the thought, Xander rotated his wrist with precise, deliberate motion. The air around Orion shifted violently. The howling vortex changed pitch, spinning in chaotic new patterns.
The pressure holding him didn't lessen—it was still as suffocating as before—but the direction of the force shifted abruptly. The wind pulled him away from the wall with a sudden jerk. For a fleeting heartbeat, Orion was suspended midair, weightless. Then, with a swift twist of Xander's hand, the gale reversed, flipping his body in a clean one-eighty. His chest now faced the wall that had been at his back only moments ago.
And then—
SLAM
The invisible force smashed him against the wall like a sledgehammer striking steel.
"Ughhh!" Orion groaned, a strangled sound forced from his lungs. Pain lanced through his ribs, and the breath whooshed out of him.
His vision blurred, leaving only fractured images: the stone wall's rough grain pressed against his cheek, Xander's distant silhouette, and a faint trace of sky above. One of his eyes stayed open, tracking Xander's movements, while the other was half-squashed shut against the wall.
"He's controlling the wind… with his mind and just a flick of his hand." Orion's thoughts spun as wildly as the gale around him. "That settles it—he's part of that group of people Warner told me about. He's a Foci. A real Foci—whoa!"
Before he could even draw a breath, the vortex shifted again. The wind yanked him backward, flipping him midair like a ragdoll before hurling him back into the wall.
"Kak!" The impact drove spittle from his mouth. His teeth clamped together, the sound echoing in his skull.
A few paces away, Juliet stood frozen, her heart pulsating as she watched Orion's punishment unfold. She didn't need long to figure out what was happening. Her gaze darted from Orion's battered form to Xander's outstretched hand.
She gasped, then bolted down the short set of steps that led from her house's back porch to the dusty ground below. Her shoes hit the earth with soft thuds as she raced toward Xander.
"Sir!" she called out, her voice sharp with alarm. "Whatever he did—don't you think you're taking this too far?"
But Xander didn't even glance at her. His hand remained fixed, fingers twitching with subtle, deadly precision as Orion's body flipped once more and crashed against the wall with a bone-jarring thud.
To Orion's disoriented mind, the repeated slams felt like falling off a short ledge over and over—enough to bruise and batter, but not to shatter bones. Yet he knew internal damage was building. Each hit rattled him more than the last.
Juliet's stomach churned. She could see that Xander was holding back—barely. If he had wanted to, he could have flung Orion much farther from the wall before slamming him again, creating an impact force strong enough to break ribs or worse. But even restrained, Xander's punishment was brutal.
"Too far?" Xander finally turned his head, his sharp glare pinning Juliet in place. The combination of words dripped with contempt.
"He should be grateful I'm not going harder," Xander snapped. "If I wanted him dead, he'd already be a corpse."
Juliet swallowed hard, her throat dry. She turned back to Orion, whose body sagged midair, then back to Xander. She couldn't stand by and watch him be battered senseless.
"Yes—thank you for holding back," she said quickly, desperation creeping into her tone. "But isn't this enough? He's just a boy and a regular one at that. He lacks the durability your kind possess!" She reached for Xander's arm, gripping his sleeve as if her touch might anchor his anger.
"That brat," Xander growled, his eyes never leaving Orion, "had the audacity to steal a Supplementary Military Corps member's carrier. That's not just petty theft—it's a direct insult to the Corps. And worse…" Xander's lip curled. "He dared to touch a Foci's teramythe crystal. That's personal. That's life or death for us outside of the splinters where we don't need them. So no—" Xander's gaze hardened, flaring with cold fury— "I haven't done enough."
Juliet's mind snagged on the unfamiliar term. Teramythe crystal? Her thoughts flashed back to the strange marble-like object Xander had pulled from Samuel's carrier earlier. Could that have been the crystal? She wanted to ask, but she forced herself back to the moment.
Even if Xander felt justified, the risk was enormous. One wrong move, one moment of anger taken too far, and Orion could be dead.
"Please," she said again, her voice trembling. "Even if you're right, accidents happen. Don't let your anger be the reason for one."
Behind them, Marcel exchanged an uneasy glance with Samuel. He knew Juliet was right. Them passing their month long assignment depended on maintaining a good rapport with the townspeople, and Xander's violence wasn't exactly helping.
"Maybe we should listen to the kid," Marcel began cautiously. "This is getting out of hand. Just—"
"No!" Xander's interruption was sharp as a whip-crack. His glare flicked toward Marcel for a fraction of a second before returning to Orion.
Blood still oozed sluggishly down the side of Xander's face, trailing across his jaw and staining the collar of his uniform, but he ignored it. He stalked forward, his boots crunching on the gravel.
With another subtle flick of his wrist, the currents shifted. Orion's battered body drifted a little farther from the wall, suspended like a marionette.
Then— snap! —Xander's fingers clicked. A sudden gust tugged at Orion's shirt, ripping it open in a flutter of fabric. The invisible wind fingers searched and found the stolen carrier strapped around Orion's waist.
"There it is." Xander's lips curled into a smirk.
With another precise adjustment of his fingers—pinky and ring finger folded down, the other three splayed and his palm angled toward the sky—the wind pulled the carrier from Orion's person, carrying it away and holding it aloft as if on display.
"Whoa," Orion breathed, one eye widening in astonishment despite the pain. The other eye, swollen and bloodshot from repeated impacts, barely stayed open. He watched helplessly as the stolen leather bag hovered a few feet away, out of reach.
He tried to reach for it but like handcuffs, the wind locked his arms in an unmovable T-pose
He flicked his pupils toward Xander's advancing form, panic clawing at his chest. His heart thudded so hard he felt it in his throat. There was no way out. He'd made a stupid mistake. If he had known—if he had reallyknown—that Xander and his crew were Foci, he wouldn't have dared gotten entangled with them.
All this time, he'd believed the stories about the Supplementary Military Corps were exaggerated. None of the visiting Corps members had displayed their powers in his little fishing town, at least not in front of common folk like him as the last time they did was twelve years ago when he was four years old and wasn't around to see it.
His guardian's old warnings echoed in his mind—warnings he'd dismissed as paranoia years ago:
"Stay away from the Corps. Don't cross the Foci."
If only he had taken heed.
Xander decided to make his lesson unforgettable. Dropping his arm slightly, he twisted his wrist again. The vortex shifted, and Orion's world became a dizzying blur.
The wind spun him like a gyroscope, faster and faster, until nausea gripped his stomach. Blood rushed to his head, the centrifugal forces making his vision tunnel.
His cheeks puffed as vomit threatened to rise. Black spots danced at the edges of his sight. Consciousness itself seemed to slip through his fingers.
Then—a flicker of hope.
Through the spinning haze, Orion's eyes locked onto Juliet. She was behind Xander, Marcel, and Samuel, clutching something in her hand—a knife. She darted to the side wall, her breaths shallow, her movements deliberate.
Orion's gaze followed the rope she had begun sawing through. It stretched upward, disappearing into the shadowed rafters where an old wooden platform hung. The platform held fishing nets, scrap wood, and heavy, rusted tools. Its rope supports were all that kept the load from crashing down.
"Quick thinking. Do it," Orion whispered, his voice faint. He knew she couldn't hear him over the roar of the wind and the distance between him and her, but his lips formed the words anyway.
Juliet's knife worked furiously, shredding the rope fiber by fiber. Each strained strand snapped with soft pops until finally—
SNAP
The rope split apart, the tension releasing with a sharp twang.
Above Xander and his companions, the platform lurched. Nets and scrap metal trembled. And then…
"Wait, what's that noise—?" Samuel began, his ears catching the groan of shifting wood. He looked up and his eyes went wide.
"Xander!" he shouted, voice cracking with alarm.
Xander's head jerked upward just as Marcel's did. All three Foci saw it: the mass of debris plummeting toward them like an avalanche of junk and fishing gear.
CRASH!!