X – The Infernal Gate
"Kaodin… please. Don't stop."
Liara's whisper wasn't sound — it trembled through something deeper, carried inside his breath rather than his ears.
The corridor blurred into embers and pulse.
Inside that hush, another voice rose — old, steady, familiar.
His father's.
"To prevail against strength, you don't fight it. You flow with it."
Kaodin's eyes opened, blue light burning through dust.
He exhaled slowly.
The rigid Muay Boran stance softened; his center shifted from force to rhythm.
One foot slid back, arms loose, ready to move with the strike rather than resist it.
Rogan sneered, metal jaw grinding.
"Still standing? You're either brave or stupid."
Kaodin tilted his head, a faint smirk cutting through the tension.
"Why not both?"
He beckoned him forward.
"You're good at provoking your opponent," Rogan growled. "But try that with someone else— not me."
Rogan lunged — a blur of augmented weight and hate.
His fist tore through the air toward Kaodin's skull.
Kaodin was already gone.
He drifted aside with a Pendulum Step, the movement so fluid the strike hit only the ghost of where he'd been.
Rogan swung again — a hammerfist aimed at Kaodin's ribs.
Kaodin didn't block; he redirected.
His right arm guided Rogan's wrist upward, blue Qi blooming softly between their limbs, absorbing the brunt of the blow and turning it aside.
He let the stolen force sink through his stance, grounding through his heel.
As momentum peaked, he released it —
a long rising knee, Khao Yao, driving into Rogan's ribs with his own redirected power.
Rogan twisted sideways.
Kaodin followed with a sharp stop-hit side kick to the ribs — commanding space, forcing the brute back two steps.
Rogan growled, mechanical arm whirring hot.
"Tricks won't save you, boy!"
"Then stop falling for them."
Rogan charged again, faster than before.
Kaodin dipped low — a sweeping kick snapping out to catch Rogan's ankle mid-step.
The giant stumbled.
Wawa reappeared beside him, spectral flame flickering, the cub's breath syncing with Kaodin's own.
The resonance steadied him.
"Alright, big guy," Kaodin murmured. "My turn."
Blue Qi bled into red along his arms, spiraling toward his fists.
He stepped in, palms rising in a mirrored arc —
Hanuman Tawai Waen, both hands twisting as they struck upward beneath Rogan's chin.
A burst of red combustion rang through the corridor.
Rogan reeled but did not fall.
Kaodin inhaled sharply, forcing more Qi up from his core.
His arms ignited again.
He struck once more —
a Qi-enhanced Hanuman Tawai Waen, a doubled uppercut blast that hurled Rogan back against the wall, shattering more of his mask.
Rogan's jaw split open, metal teeth glinting.
"Not bad, kid… but not enough."
Kaodin steadied his footing.
Pain throbbed through his limbs, but his eyes burned bright blue.
"Then how about another round?"
He breathed in, letting flame coil through his legs, tightening around his calves.
He leapt — a streak of blue-red cutting through smoke.
His heel snapped across Rogan's jaw —
Jarakae-Fad-Hang, the Crocodile Strikes Its Tail —
and a deep, wet crack echoed as teeth scattered across the floor.
Kaodin landed hard, smoke rising off his clothes.
Rogan still stood for a heartbeat — eyes rolled white —
then collapsed like a falling pillar.
Silence swelled.
Then cheers roared through comm-channels.
Security droids swept in, restraining Rogan's ruffians and tagging the unconscious lieutenant for containment.
Kaodin swayed.
Wawa brushed against his leg, spectral light faint, whispering:
You did it.
He smiled. "Yeah… we did."
Across CSDS, screens flared alive.
Civilians in the vaults erupted into applause and relieved cries.
Mrs. Hong's voice cut through the chatter:
"Eastern corridor secure! Medical teams, move! Bring that boy home!"
Far below, Liara smiled through the med-fluid haze.
"You did it, Kaodin…"
Above ground, the fires dimmed.
Smoke thinned.
The city exhaled for the first time in hours.
Kaodin felt his body tilt, weightless.
He looked down and saw himself kneeling, Wawa curled beside him.
A faint blue-white outline lifted from his skin — his own flame taking shape.
It pulsed once.
Light rippled outward, drifting down through floors until it brushed Liara's suspended consciousness like a warm hand.
And in the ruins of the east corridor, the boy who should've been dead simply closed his eyes —
and slept inside the glow of his awakening flame.