Blazing Dusk
The sky above Dermaga 2 High School had turned dark. The once-orange twilight was now blood-red, like a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. A cold wind blew, carrying the faint smell of smoke from afar. The old basketball court had transformed into a battleground, one that would carve new scars into the souls of those involved.
A circle of students had gathered, forming a ring—but none dared to step into the space between Jora and Devan. The two figures stood face to face. They were no longer just students, but warriors caught between a dark past and an uncertain future.
At the edge of the circle, Dimas' eyes were red with fury, Rina bowed her head in tense silence, and Arif bit his lip anxiously. From the upper floor, Noah watched—his gaze cold, almost emotionless.
The Beginning: Tension at its Peak
Devan launched the fight without a word.
His movements were no longer human—something in his blood seemed to be driving his muscles in a way that defied explanation.
His first kick wasn't just fast—it shimmered strangely, creating a ripple in the air like a small explosion. Jora barely dodged it, feeling the wave of energy vibrate through the atmosphere.
"This strength... it's not normal," Jora whispered to himself, eyes wide.
Arif and Rina gasped.
"Can a human really be that strong?"
"That kind of power will destroy Jora," Rina said, trembling.
"Relax," Arif replied, trying to reassure her. "Jora's not someone who goes down that easy—not even to Devan."
Devan's Secret Power
Devan wasn't just muscular and strong—his body had been altered through a cocktail of illegal drugs injected into him regularly. The result? Super stamina, extreme muscular strength, and most terrifying of all—he no longer felt pain. His body was powered by raw, unstable energy that pushed past human limits.
His movements weren't natural anymore. He staggered sometimes, then exploded forward with impossible speed. His left eye occasionally flared red—like a burning flame waiting to consume everything.
He wasn't just a monster.
He was an uncontrollable one.
The Battle Turns to Hell
Devan launched a near-lethal strike, his punch shaking the ground. Jora was knocked back—like he'd been hit by a storm. But he got up quickly, inhaling deeply, drawing on the calmness he had trained to summon.
Devan only laughed—a terrifying, unhinged laugh.
"Just wait... this is only the beginning!" he growled, stepping forward. His body trembled, as if some hidden engine inside him was pumping liquid fire through every joint.
Then, with a motion that defied logic, he unleashed a spinning kick that stirred the wind, sending leaves flying. Jora was nearly thrown into the fence, but managed to land safely.
An Explosion of Chaos
Suddenly, Devan's body trembled uncontrollably, and a dark energy surged from his hands. His entire form crackled with invisible electricity, emitting a hissing sound like a live wire.
He swung his arm—and a violent gust of wind tore toward Jora like a mini-storm trying to obliterate everything in its path.
Jora's heartbeat skyrocketed as he stood his ground.
He knew this wasn't just a physical fight—it was a battle for sanity.
With a leap, he closed in and locked Devan's body with a tight hold, trying to neutralize the wild force with pure technique and calm control.
Darkness and Light
But Devan's unnatural power kept surging, shaking his own body like a storm trapped inside a man. His face twisted between rage and pain—a chaotic mess.
"You don't understand!" Devan screamed, his voice distorted by the unstable energy.
"I became a monster because the world needs monsters! I never asked for this... but I have to survive!"
Jora looked at him with sad, yet firm eyes.
"Your life is your choice, Devan.
If you let the darkness own you, it'll destroy you."
Climax: Inner Explosion
Devan shook violently one more time. The black aura surrounding him exploded upward like a lightning storm. The crowd was pushed back, and a deep rumble echoed through the court.
Jora sprinted forward, gathering every ounce of strength into a single strike—not just a physical punch, but one forged from willpower and hope.
"This isn't the end!" Jora shouted as he landed a blow to Devan's chest.
Devan stumbled back, reeling. His expression shifted—from anger… to emptiness. Like someone waking from a long, horrifying nightmare.
"Finally..."
"Finally I've met someone who knows how to turn pain into identity."
Jora stood there, exhausted. Sweat and blood dripped from his chin.
"You call violence an identity? I used to think the same.
But believe me—it'll never bring you peace."
Devan lay sprawled out, staring up at him.
And for the first time… his eyes looked human.
"You're scared of the other side of yourself, aren't you?" he asked.
Jora said nothing.
He simply walked away, leaving Devan laughing quietly in the silence.
Silence After the Storm
Jora stood before the crowd that had watched the entire fight. He was bruised, bleeding—but his eyes burned with resolve.
No one spoke. They all knew they had just witnessed something far beyond a schoolyard brawl.
Dimas trembled with clenched fists.
Rina sobbed softly.
Arif looked down, silent.
And Noah, from atop the building, just smiled faintly.
From Above – The Shadow Scribe
Noah closed his notebook.
He had watched it all—the fight, the words, the stares, the pain.
But what intrigued him most wasn't who won.
It was what awakened inside Jora when he was pushed into darkness.
He wrote:
Analysis:
Subject J.N. exhibits extreme self-control. But when cornered,
he summons his "fighter's soul" from the depths of trauma.
This isn't just defense. It's a legacy he never truly discarded.
Conclusion:
Someone like this… isn't meant to be fought.
But recruited.
Noah stood up.
He wouldn't remain in the shadows much longer.
The hidden force he'd kept buried—was about to move.
That Night – Jora's Boarding Room
Jora stared into the mirror again. His face was bruised. His shoulder ached. But that wasn't what bothered him.
What bothered him… was himself.
The version of him that appeared when he was struck, threatened, pushed too far.
He touched his reflection.
"If I had a choice… I'd choose peace."
"But this world... keeps forcing its way in."
Then he opened his old bag.
Inside—an item he hadn't touched in a long time:
A national kickboxing championship belt from Japan.
Covered in dust. But still whole.
"If you come again... I'll be ready," he whispered.
Aftermath – At Dimas' House
A loud bang echoed.
Dimas kicked a cabinet so hard it nearly collapsed. His breath was heavy, his face red, his eyes filled not with sorrow—but with fury and humiliation.
Dimas (shouting):
"Damn it! DAMN IT ALL!"
He punched the wall—once, twice—until his knuckles bled. But he didn't stop. He didn't feel the pain. All he felt was the gaping wound in his pride.
Devan…
The one they called the "last weapon," the "brute of grade one," the guy even teachers feared to confront…
LOST.
Not just lost—was defeated.
By who?
Jora.
The quiet transfer student. Polite. Reserved. The one who never even retaliated when insulted.
"That kid... he's not normal," Dimas muttered, eyes filled with hate. "I saw it in his eyes when he fought Devan… like he's been through hell before."
"Devan... you promised to restore my pride. But instead, you fell. You…"
He stopped.
Then laughed—short, bitter, unstable laughter.
"What… am I really dealing with now?"
"Who the hell is Jora…?"
He stepped toward the crooked mirror on the wall.
He looked at his reflection—the face of a leader that now looked small, fragile.
He whispered, almost like a prayer:
"If you can make Devan kneel... I'll be the one to bring you down. With my own hands. So everyone knows who's really at the top of this school."
He took a deep breath.
"If it's war you want, Jora..."
"I'll burn this whole school down just to destroy you."