Back with Alexander was facing the Piken, whose beady eyes were locked on him. The Piken roared, its rage deafening as it lunged toward Alexander with terrifying speed, claws bared and teeth gnashing.
Without a second thought, Alexander's body rippled and shifted, the transformation immediate and striking. His skin took on a cold, rock-solid ice form, crystalizing over him, an organic armor of glimmering frost that seemed to absorb the light. His eyes blazed with an intense blue glow, and he stood like a towering ice sentinel, ready to face the oncoming beast.
The Piken charged forward, its eyes burning with fury, its claws raised high, eager to tear through Alexander's ice form. The thunderous roar of the beast echoed down the hallway, shaking the very walls as it closed the distance in a blur of speed and violence.
But Alexander stood firm, his expression cold and unwavering. He extended his hands with a focused intensity, his body brimming with the power of cryokinesis.
A sudden burst of ice exploded from his fingertips, the temperature around him plummeting, the air turning crisp and sharp. He created walls of solid ice, glittering and hard as stone, rising swiftly in front of him, like an impenetrable fortress.
The Piken didn't hesitate. It barreled forward, full of rage and intent to destroy, but it met the crystal-hard walls of ice head-on. The impact was deafening. The Piken's massive body slammed into the frozen barrier, but it was unable to break it and the beast staggered back, disoriented, its sharp claws scraping against the unyielding ice as it tried to push forward.
Alexander didn't wait for the Piken to recover.
With a swift motion, Alexander thrust his hands forward —a blast of freezing, coolant-like gas erupted from his palms, spilling across the floor in a rolling mist.
Instantly, the ground beneath him crystallized,ribbons of ice racing outward, forming ramp-like slides and angled surfaces —sleek, shimmering paths that gleamed under the flickering overhead lights.
With a swift, fluid motion, Alexander stepped onto the ice,his boots catching the slick surface perfectly.He launched into a glide, sliding effortlessly, the crystalline ramps bending to his will.
The Piken, massive and furious, roared, its muscles bunching as it lunged.
Its curved claws slashed through the air with bone-splitting force —but Alexander was already gone, a blur of frozen motion,
carving smooth arcs around the beast with impossible speed.
As the Piken struck again, its claws smashed into the ice, sending splinters of frozen shards flying like glass. But Alexander, body low and momentum perfect, twisted along a rising ramp,vaulting over the creature in a spray of fine mist and frost.
The ice slides twisted and reformed beneath him,growing with each movement, bending at impossible angles —a living, shifting labyrinth of frozen pathways.
Alexander went all out, as ice sprayed from his hands like a jet of freezing gas, covering everything it touched. The air grew colder, the temperature dropping rapidly, frost spreading across the walls and floor. The Piken howled, but its movements were slowing, as ice began to creep across its limbs.
Alexander's power surged as the temperature continued to plummet. He pushed his hands outward, and icy tendrils shot from his body, freezing the air around the Piken and turning the beast's furious roar into a gurgling choke.
The Piken's claws slowed as the freezing frost took hold. Its body began to crack under the pressure of the ice, its movements becoming sluggish and stiff.
Finally, with a powerful gesture, Alexander focused all of his energy into a single, concentrated blast of freezing gas, shooting it forward like a wave of cold. The Piken's body froze completely, its form turning into a grotesque ice sculpture, frozen in mid-motion, its claws still extended but now encased in brittle, shimmering ice.
Alexander stepped back, his chest heaving as he returned to his human form, his eyes flickering with exhaustion. He looked at the Piken, now a frozen statue in the middle of the hallway.
As the group reunited, the weight of the battle still heavy in the air, John couldn't help but pull Sarah into a tight hug. His hands trembled as he held her close, his voice cracking, barely a whisper. "My dog, he… he just—"
Before he could finish, Six gave him a smirk, her eyes gleaming with understanding. "Yeah, he's a Chimaera. He came with you from Lorien. Probably a gift from your parent's." She was prepping up her gun,she gave John a deadpan look. "Someone had to look after you, after all you are a trouble magnet."
John blinked, his emotions a whirl of confusion and sadness, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His dog, Bernie Kosar, had been the one thing constant since coming to Paradise falls, the one thing he could always count on. So hearing it was probably gift from his parents, it was slightly emotional.
Meanwhile, Alexander, his senses heightened, stood a few feet away, his sharp gaze flickering toward the distant horizon. His superhuman tracking senses had picked up on something — something more than just the faint breeze of the evening. His gaze hardened.
"There's a group heading for the stadium," Alexander muttered, turning toward John. His voice was cold, precise. "They've got your scent."
John let out a long, frustrated sigh. As Alexander seeing this added."This works too, since we planned to lure them out."
John nodded, as Sarah comforted him.
But before anyone could say anything else, Alexander's eyes narrowed as he sensed something else. "Another group is heading this way," he warned, his body tense, ready for what was coming.
Dante, ever the one to welcome a challenge, grinned mischievously as he pulled out a spherical device, its surface metallic with segmented, armored exteriors and embedded red lights that blinked ominously. The sphere had a dangerous elegance to it, its sharp, textured surface making it easy to grip. Dante's grin widened. "I've got a gift for them," he said, his voice laced with anticipation.
The sound of footsteps echoed as the five Mogadorians moved forward, red blasters aimed at the shadows, seeking out the Garde. They were methodical, efficient — predators in search of their prey.
But before they could take another step, the spherical device rolled forward, its red lights flashing rapidly, signaling its imminent danger.
BOOM!
The explosion was deafening, sending a shockwave through the air. Three of the Mogadorians in the front were obliterated instantly by the blast, their bodies disintegrating into the dust in a flash of fire and fury. The force of the explosion threw the other two back, their bodies slamming into the hard ground, both suffering slight burns but still alive.
As they scrambled to regain their footing, Freya stepped forward with cold precision. Without missing a beat, she drew her power discs — sleek, futuristic in design, with glowing blue neon circuitry running across the surface. The sharp, metallic outer rim gleamed in the blue neonlight, and as she gripped it tightly, the disc hummed, pulsating with energy.
With an expert flick of her wrist, the power disc shot from her hand, spinning with blinding speed. It whistled through the air, its energy lines intensifying, before slicing cleanly through the throat of the first Vatborn. It let out a strangled scream before its body turned to ash, vanishing into the air.
The second Vatborn was still in shock, trying to raise its blaster as it fumbled to aim at Freya. But it was too late. The disc rebounded off the wall, coming back with terrifying precision, and slammed into the chest of the last Vatborn, cleaving through its body with brutal force.
As the last of the Vatborns crumbled into dust, Freya stood motionless, her eyes narrowing as she watched the power disc rebound off the wall. The glowing blue circuitry flickered momentarily before it began to spiral back toward her with a humming precision.
Without a single hint of hesitation, Freya's hand shot out, her fingers closing around the disc as it whizzed through the air toward her. She captured it effortlessly, her grip firm yet fluid, like an extension of herself. The disc pulsed faintly in her palm, the energy circuits dimming as she held it.
She gave it a quick spin in her hand, checking its balance and readiness for the next strike. "That was easy," she muttered under her breath, her lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile.
Griffin couldn't help but smile at Freya as she effortlessly captured the power disc, their eyes meeting for just a moment. The brief connection was a fleeting but welcome pause in the chaos that was quickly escalating around them.
But somewhere in the depths of the school, the sounds of battle were far from over. Deep in the shower area, the conflict between Bernie Kosar and the Piken was growing more brutal by the second.
The Piken, with its monstrous frame, slammed Bernie Kosar against the wall with a sickening crash. The force of the blow sent cracks spider-webbing across the tiles, the water from broken pipes soaking the entire room in a slick, dangerous sheen. The air was thick with the sound of rushing water and the growls of both creatures.
Bernie Kosar—bloodied but unyielding—rose slowly from the wreckage, his body shaking with the effort. He gave a low, threatening growl, his eyes locked onto the Piken, who was now advancing on him with a ferocious snarl. The Piken was stronger, no question, but Bernie Kosar had never backed down from a fight.
The Piken lunged, jaws snapping, but Bernie Kosar reacted fast. His tail, thick and club-like with sharp spikes, swung with brutal force. The Piken's head snapped back as it caught the strike full force, momentarily dazed, stumbling back.
Both creatures circled each other, their eyes never leaving their opponent. The water from the broken showers cascaded over them, mixing with the blood from their wounds. It was a battle of survival, a primal contest of strength and willpower.
Bernie Kosar saw an opening. With a roar, he lunged, his teeth bared as he rammed the Piken into the wall. The sound of cracking concrete echoed through the room. But before he could finish his strike, the Piken's long, curved claws shot out, impaling Bernie Kosar in the back with a brutal slash. The pain was immediate, searing, but Bernie Kosar refused to let go.
He roars in agony, his body shaking with the pain of the stabs.
But the Piken was quick. It seized the moment, grabbing Bernie Kosar and throwing him into the opposite wall with bone-shaking force. The room seemed to collapse around them as Bernie Kosar slid to the floor, too wounded to rise immediately. His blood pooled beneath him, his breaths ragged and shallow.
The Piken stalked toward him, its claws clicking menacingly against the wet floor, prepared to deliver the final blow. But the floor was slick, the debris from the wrecked showers creating a hazardous trap. The Piken, confident in its victory, failed to notice the danger underfoot.
With a sudden slip, the Piken lost its balance and slammed into the wall next to Bernie Kosar. For the briefest of moments, time seemed to freeze.
Bernie Kosar—in a final, desperate move—lunged forward, his teeth sinking deep into the Piken's throat. The Piken roared in pain, its claws slashing wildly in an attempt to dislodge the relentless attack. It tried to drive its claws into Bernie Kosar's sides, but the dog held on, biting down with everything he had left.
The Piken struggled, its movements slowing as the life drained from it. With a final, shuddering gasp, the Piken slumped to the floor, its body going still.
Bernie Kosar, barely able to keep his hold, pulled back with effort. His body trembled, blood pouring from the numerous wounds on his back. He had won, but it came at a cost. Slowly, his form began to change, shifting back into his smaller, more familiar beagle form.
Limping and covered in blood, Bernie Kosar staggered a few steps before collapsing onto the wet floor. His body was battered and bruised, but his eyes, even now, held the quiet determination of a warrior. With a deep, weary breath, he curled up, unable to do anything but rest and recover from the brutal fight he had just won.