Chapter 5: The Rush of Vengeance
Elvas stared at his reflection in the cracked restroom mirror, his chest heaving, his thoughts spinning wildly. The System's cold proclamation echoed in his skull: [Speed ability unlocked.]
His palms pressed hard against the sink, knuckles stark white. Was this genuine? Could he truly possess power now—him, the boy universally mocked, the cursed "demon"?
He shook his head, trying to quell the dizzying rush of adrenaline and disbelief. "This is impossible. It has to be some kind of trick," he muttered. His voice sounded foreign in the empty restroom, as if it already belonged to someone else.
"An illusion... or maybe I'm losing my mind." He studied his reflection, his dark eyes wide and uncertain. "I can't be faster now. That isn't how things work."
He pushed away from the sink and turned to leave, his sneakers squeaking on the dirty tile. As he stepped forward, his foot slid on a damp patch. His arms instinctively flailed, bracing for the inevitable impact, but—
He didn't fall.
Before his body could hit the floor, his movements violently accelerated, snapping into an unnatural quickness. He corrected his balance in a blur, standing tall and perfectly steady, his breath ragged, his heart hammering against his ribs.
For a long moment, he simply stared at his reflection. His eyes looked different—sharp, vibrant, full of something dangerous.
"No way," he whispered, afraid to give voice to the possibility. "That... that wasn't real, was it?"
But deep inside, beneath the fear, a scorching spark ignited. A thrilling, perilous spark of hope.
He forced himself to speak, his voice catching. "System... what just happened? Was that me?" He swallowed, his throat dry. "Did I do that? Did you truly make me faster?"
The answer arrived instantly, crimson words flaring in the stale air, the cold, steady voice sliding into his consciousness.
[System Response: Host activated the 'Speed' ability. Test successful. Your physical velocity is now significantly enhanced.]
Elvas's lips twisted into a broken, shaky smile. The magnitude of the realization struck him—this was real. This was power.
"All this time," he breathed, his voice a mix of bitter disbelief and triumph, "they called me nothing. A freak. A demon." His fists clenched tightly. "But now... now I have something. Something real."
He shoved open the restroom door and stepped into the dim hallway. His footsteps felt unnaturally light, sharper, as if the air itself parted for him.
But before he could test his newfound speed, a familiar shadow blocked his path.
Marcus.
The vampire's smirk was razor-sharp, his red eyes glowing faintly in the weak corridor light. Behind him, Mark and Luke grinned like cruel jackals, feeding on their leader's malice.
"Going somewhere, demon boy?" Marcus sneered, his tone dripping with corrosive mockery.
Elvas's body tensed. His fists clenched at his sides, every instinct screaming to fight or flee, anything but show weakness. He forced his voice to remain steady. "I don't want trouble, Marcus. Just let me pass. I want to be left alone."
He attempted to move around them, his pulse escalating.
But Marcus slid in front of him again, blocking the hallway with a blur of inhuman speed. His laugh was low, cruel, echoing through the corridor. "Running already? What's the urgency?" His smirk deepened. "You think you can just walk away from me?"
Before Elvas could react, Marcus's fist slammed into his stomach. Pain exploded through him, sharp and suffocating. He doubled over, gasping, clutching his gut as his knees threatened to give way.
Marcus laughed louder, the sound triumphant and vicious. "You're nothing, demon. Nothing!" His voice rose, ensuring everyone nearby could hear. "You should bow when you see me. Beg me for mercy."
Mark and Luke cackled, their voices blending into the growing murmur of a crowd gathering at the hall's edges.
Elvas forced himself upright, the intense pain burning through him, but something hotter, darker, was boiling in his chest—pure, blinding rage. His voice shook, but it sliced through the noise. "Do you truly enjoy this, Marcus? Hurting me, over and over? What is wrong with you?"
The unexpected question struck something deep in Marcus, his grin vanishing into a ferocious snarl. In one rapid movement, he grabbed Elvas by the hair, yanking his head back violently. "You're not on the rooftop now, freak," Marcus hissed, his eyes blazing brighter. "But I'll kill you just the same."
Laughter swelled around them, a cruel chorus that fueled Marcus's monstrous ego.
Elvas's chest seized up. Years of torment—every shove, every insult, every wound—crashed down on him at once. His vision blurred with absolute fury. He couldn't endure it one more second.
Without thinking, his fist shot forward.
A sharp, sickening crack echoed as his knuckles connected squarely with Marcus's nose. Blood spurted instantly. Marcus stumbled back, clutching his face, his red eyes widening in genuine, utter shock.
The crowd gasped. The laughter died immediately. A profound silence fell, broken only by Marcus's ragged breathing and Elvas's thunderous heartbeat.
For the first time, the fear wasn't his.
Elvas didn't hesitate. He ran. His legs surged with alien power. The air rushed against his skin, an exhilarating, terrifying sensation.
Behind him, Marcus's primal roar shook the brick walls. "Get him! Don't let that freak escape!"
Mark and Luke immediately bolted after him, the crowd erupting in chaos. But Elvas was faster. Significantly faster.
He sprinted through the school's corridors, dodging students and lockers, his heart screaming with the incredible rush of newfound speed. He reached the end of the corridor, skidding to a breathless stop before a dead end—a looming brick wall.
Panting, he spun around. Marcus and his cronies were already there, their faces contorted with murderous fury.
Marcus wiped blood from his broken nose, his savage grin returning, vicious and wild. "Nowhere to run, demon. You're finished. This time, you won't survive."
Elvas backed up until his shoulders pressed against the cool wall, his eyes darting desperately for an escape. Marcus stalked forward, raising a fist for the killing blow. The crowd pressed closer, hungry for the final act.
But then—
The world shifted.
Time stretched thin and viscous, every sound warping, every movement crawling like shadows in molasses. Elvas's pulse hammered, his body humming with the strange, unnatural energy of the speed ability.
Marcus's punch came down, but Elvas was already gone, slipping past the blow like mist. Another strike—missed. Another—dodged with effortless ease.
The crowd gasped as Elvas weaved, fluid and utterly untouchable, his every instinct razor-sharp due to the power burning through his veins.
Then, with a sudden surge of physical strength, he darted behind Marcus and shoved him hard. The Vampire King crashed to the ground, sprawling in the dirtiest corner of the hall, humiliatingly exposed.
Breathing hard, Elvas stood over him. His voice was low but steady, ringing raw with years of pent-up pain. "All I ever wanted was to be left alone. Just stop. Leave me the hell alone."
He turned, his steps echoing in the suddenly hushed hallway. Students instinctively parted, wide-eyed, watching the outcast walk free.
From a corner, Auran leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "So much for the Vampire King, huh, Marcus?" he drawled, enjoying the spectacle.
Marcus scrambled to his feet, fury twisting his bloodied face. His voice cracked with impotent rage. "I'll kill you, Elvas! I swear I will kill you!"
But Elvas didn't look back. His heart pounded with the thrilling buzz of power in his veins, a sensation far louder and more compelling than any threat left behind.