THE IRON FIST 👊
Chapter Ten: Clash of Fire and Shadow
The streets of Florida's old quarter were nearly empty that night. A thin mist crawled along the ground, weaving between broken lampposts and abandoned cars. The silence wasn't peace; it was the quiet that came before a blade slid between ribs.
Silva's fists burned faintly beneath his skin as he walked down the alley where so many of his nights ended. His thoughts spun back to the warning carved into his mother's counter:
THE FRIEND WILL STRIKE FIRST.
And deep down, he already knew who it meant.
A figure stepped into the pale glow at the end of the alley. His outline was familiar, but the air bent strangely around him, like shadows were alive on his skin.
"Jared," Silva whispered.
Jared smiled — but it wasn't the smile of a friend. It was sharp, empty, cruel. His eyes glowed faint red, veins crawling toward his temples like black roots under glass.
"You've been hiding," Jared said. His voice was deeper now, edged with something unnatural. "But I knew you'd come. You always come here, don't you? This alley is your sanctuary."
Silva swallowed the lump in his throat. "What happened to you?"
"What happened?" Jared's grin widened. He lifted his hand, and a ripple of corrupted red energy shimmered across his palm, bending the shadows around it. "I was chosen, Silva. Not to save. To rule."
"That's not power. It's corruption," Silva shot back, sparks igniting across his knuckles. "It's eating you alive."
"Alive?" Jared laughed, harsh and broken. "I've never felt more alive. While you cling to the old man's lies, I've seen the truth: strength belongs to those who take it. And I took mine."
Silva took a step forward. "I don't want to fight you."
"You don't have a choice."
The first strike split the night. Jared's hand slashed forward, releasing a beam of red-black energy that tore through the alley wall like it was paper. The explosion rattled the ground, showering Silva in broken brick.
Silva rolled clear, his fists blazing. He charged, striking with a glowing punch that cracked against Jared's chest. The force hurled Jared backward into a dumpster, metal shrieking under the impact.
For a second, Silva thought he'd ended it.
But Jared only laughed as he stood, blood trailing from his lip.
"That's the fire I wanted to see," he hissed. "The fire the world will kneel to. But it won't be yours."
He lunged, impossibly fast, his red aura colliding with Silva's yellow fire. The clash lit up the alley like lightning, shockwaves blasting outward, shattering windows on both sides.
They locked fists — fire against corruption — faces inches apart.
"You were supposed to be my brother," Jared spat.
"You are my brother," Silva groaned, every muscle straining. "That's why I won't let you fall further."
"Then you'll fall with me!"
Jared twisted, red fire flooding through his veins, forcing Silva back. His strength was unnatural, almost monstrous. Silva dug deep, slamming his fist upward, golden fire exploding and breaking their hold. The blast flung them both apart.
Silva hit the wall, ribs aching. Jared rose slowly, hunched, grinning through the blood smeared across his teeth.
"You think you're chosen?" Jared asked, his voice dripping venom. "You don't even know why. Do you know who your father works for, Silva?"
The words froze Silva mid-step. "What?"
Jared's grin widened. "The Hand has roots everywhere. Even in your home. Even in your bloodline. You think destiny picked you? No. You were bred for this."
Silva's fists faltered, sparks flickering. His chest twisted with doubt.
Jared struck. A blast of red energy slammed into him, hurling Silva against the bricks so hard the world spun. His lungs screamed for air.
Jared loomed closer, his shadow stretching across Silva's broken body. "You're not a savior. You're a weapon. And when the world burns, I'll be the one holding the leash."
He raised his hand, red fire building, ready to end it.
But then, a sound echoed through the alley.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
A staff striking stone.
Jared froze. His glow dimmed slightly as he turned.
At the far end stood the old man, his staff faintly glowing, his eyes like fire buried in ash.
"Enough," he said. His voice carried the weight of centuries.
Jared snarled. "Stay out of this."
"You are not ready for this battle," the old man told Silva, his gaze unblinking. "And he is not ready to claim the war."
Jared laughed bitterly. "Then I'll kill you both."
He thrust his hand forward, a massive pulse of red energy screaming toward them.
The old man slammed his staff into the ground. White light erupted, pure and blinding, colliding with Jared's darkness. The explosion tore the night in half, shockwaves rattling the earth.
When the light faded, Jared was gone — vanished into the mist.
Only silence remained.
The old man's face was grave as he looked down at Silva. "If you fight him now, you will die. Train harder. Grow darker. Or you will lose everything."
Silva, bruised and broken, stared into the shadows where Jared had disappeared. His chest burned, his fists still flickered weakly.
For the first time, he understood.
This wasn't a fight for justice. It was a war.
And wars devoured everything — even brothers.