Chapter 4: Clash of Sparks
The downtown chaos had reached a boiling point. Smoke and debris drifted through the streets, the wails of sirens mingling with the metallic screech of collapsing buildings. Rogue anomalies still ran amok, though one had just been obliterated in a blinding flash of gold-white light.
Champ Johnson, soaked in sweat and grime, stared wide-eyed at the aftermath. His chest pounded. He'd just stumbled into the path of a GAA S-rank hero, armored and radiant enough to make skyscrapers look like toys.
And now, he was about to do something completely reckless.
He took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and launched forward.
The Charge
"Wait, Champ!" Lira's voice screamed from across the street. "Don't—!"
But Champ didn't hear her. All he saw was the rogue anomaly, its twisted form crackling with unstable energy. Without thinking, he surged past the S-rank hero, propelled by sheer adrenaline, determination, and the stubbornness that had defined his entire life.
The hero—tall, imposing, and glowing like molten sunlight—reacted immediately. She shifted her stance, accelerating with a speed that made Champ's stomach flip. Within seconds, she was at his side, her aura radiating lethal precision.
"Move aside," she commanded, voice sharp as a whip. "Or die."
"I… I can't!" Champ shouted back. "I just… I just want to help people!"
The hero's eyes narrowed. She raised her hand, energy coalescing at her fingertips. With a swift motion, a shockwave of blinding power erupted, slamming into the anomaly and obliterating it completely. The ground trembled under the force. Champ skidded backward, dust and debris raining down.
He froze. The rogue anomaly was gone. The street was quiet, except for the faint buzz of lingering energy.
Champ's chest heaved. "I… I just wanted to help people…" he whispered, voice cracking slightly.
The hero stepped toward him, a shadow stretching across the rubble-strewn street. "Your help is not needed," she said, voice calm, almost clinical. "You're weak. You serve no purpose other than to die at the hands of someone strong."
The words hit Champ like a punch to the chest. His knees felt like water. For the first time in years, he felt small, useless, like all his dreams were meaningless.
Rust Unit Intervenes
"No!!" Lira screamed, launching herself toward the S-rank hero. "Say that again, I dare you!"
The hero turned her glowing eyes toward Lira and laughed—a clear, biting sound. "Look at you," she said, voice dripping mockery. "The failure B-rank who lost her job as a hero. Word is, you've gone rogue. A vigilante. Sounds like there's a nice bounty on your head. Maybe I should collect it myself."
Lira's jaw tightened. "Say whatever you want," she snapped. "But you will apologize to Champ."
The S-rank hero's laugh echoed through the street. "Apologize?" she said, a cruel smile curling her lips. "To the boy who has no rank, no skill, and no future? This will be fun."
Before Lira could respond, she lunged forward. Sparks erupted as their powers collided. Lira redirected incoming energy with her kinetic manipulation, but the S-rank's attacks were precise, overwhelming, and merciless. Each strike sent her tumbling across rubble-strewn streets.
Champ's Awakening
Champ watched, heart pounding, as Lira struggled under the hero's assault. A furious knot of emotion twisted inside him—frustration, fear, and the burning desire to protect the people he cared about.
No… not her. Not now. Not like this.
And then it happened.
He felt a spark inside him—the Mimetic Growth stirring, reacting to his overwhelming need. He could feel it consciously, a surge of energy flowing through his veins. Muscles tightened, reflexes sharpened, and for the first time, he focused not on surviving, but on adapting.
The world seemed to slow. Champ's senses expanded. In that instant, he could feel the hero's power radiating: the strength, the speed, the precise energy bursts she wielded. I can do that… he thought. I can mimic it.
His hands glowed faintly as energy coalesced around him. He moved with lightning speed, dodging the hero's next strike and launching himself forward. The difference was staggering: his punches carried the same concussive impact as hers, his speed nearly matched hers, and every movement flowed like water.
"I… I can do this!" Champ shouted, adrenaline and determination burning in his chest.
The Counterattack
The S-rank hero blinked, surprised. "What…?" she muttered, frowning. Champ was moving faster than any F-rank had a right to move. His strikes weren't as refined as hers, but they had force, and his ability to mimic her energy attacks, even on a smaller scale, left her off balance.
"How is this possible?" she hissed, sending a pulse of energy toward him. Champ reacted instinctively, generating a smaller version of the same shockwave and deflecting it. Sparks flew, debris scattered, and the ground beneath them cracked.
Lira watched, wide-eyed, as Champ darted forward, not to attack her directly, but to create openings, shield her, and redirect energy blasts toward the debris that threatened civilians. He wasn't just fighting—he was protecting, just as he had always dreamed.
The Emotional Blow
Still, the S-rank wasn't done. She landed a heavy strike that sent Lira sprawling. "You are nothing," she said, glaring down at Champ now that he had stepped fully into the fray. "Your strength is meaningless. You are weak. Your only purpose is to die at the hands of someone like me."
Champ froze for a split second. The words burned. He could feel doubt clawing at him, threatening to undo everything.
But then he looked at Lira, on the ground, panting, struggling to rise. He looked at the civilians fleeing the destruction downtown. And he remembered everything he had fought for.
"I… I won't just stand here!" he yelled, focusing all his energy. His Mimetic Growth flared brightly, amplifying speed, strength, and reflexes again. He didn't just mimic her power—he adapted it to his own body, creating a scaled-down S-rank ability. Not perfect, but terrifyingly fast, precise, and enough to keep him alive.
Turning the Tide
The S-rank hero's eyes widened. "You… are… adapting?" she said, voice incredulous.
Champ didn't answer. He moved, weaving through energy blasts, dodging attacks, and delivering counterstrikes that forced her to pause, reassess, and… respect him slightly. His movements weren't polished yet, but they were effective.
He caught Lira's hand, pulling her up, shouting, "We're not done yet! Get up!"
Together, they fought—two low-rank heroes against an S-rank enforcer. Lira, re-energized by Champ's support, redirected attacks with renewed precision, while Champ kept pace with mimicry-boosted energy bursts. Civilians had a narrow path to escape, and debris was cleared by kinetic deflections and shockwave bursts.
The street became a blur of sparks, dust, and kinetic force. For the first time, Champ felt the power that his father must have felt, tempered by his own will and determination. He wasn't just fighting to survive—he was fighting to protect, to matter, and to grow.
Aftermath
Finally, the hero stumbled back, energy draining, momentarily confused by Champ's speed and adaptability. "This isn't over," she said coldly, her voice laced with warning and amusement. "But… impressive for a failure."
Champ panted, feeling the thrill of adrenaline mixed with lingering doubt. He looked at Lira, who gave him a tired but proud smile.
"You did good, rookie," she said. "Better than I thought possible."
Champ's grin broke through, wet with sweat and dirt. "Thanks… I… I think I can actually do this."
Lira shook her head, still catching her breath. "You can do more than think. You will. But remember—this is just the beginning. S-rank or not, the GAA doesn't like vigilantes."
"And neither do rogue anomalies," Champ muttered, looking down the smoke-filled street. "But… I don't care. I'm going to help people, even if the world says I can't."
The S-rank hero had vanished into the chaos, leaving behind a single word echoing in his mind: weak.
But Champ knew, deep down, that "weak" didn't mean powerless. Not anymore.