Chapter 23: Riot's Edge
The hallway reeked of smoke and teenage fury, emergency lighting casting everything in shades of blood and shadow. Landon pressed his back against a concrete pillar, pyrokinetic blood singing beneath his skin as shouts echoed from every direction. What had started as a peaceful protest about Shetty's heavy-handed questioning had escalated into full-scale chaos when security forces arrived with riot gear and barely contained violence.
This wasn't the plan.
The thought hammered against his skull as he watched students clash with campus security, powers flaring like fireworks in the cramped confines of the administration building. His enhanced senses picked up the acrid taste of tear gas mixing with ozone from electrical discharges, the metallic scent of blood where someone's powers had found their mark.
A plasma blast scorched the wall inches from his head, followed by Ethan's distinctive laugh—manic and wild with adrenaline. The hot-headed freshman had thrown himself into the chaos with the enthusiasm of someone who'd been waiting his whole life for an excuse to cut loose. Sparks danced around his fingers as he faced down three security guards, his usually careful control abandoned in favor of overwhelming force.
"Landon!" Marie's voice cut through the noise like a blade, urgent with worry and command. She emerged from the smoke like an avenging angel, blood swirling around her in crimson ribbons that spoke of barely contained power. "We need to move. Now."
But even as she spoke, Landon's attention was caught by something else—the way Andre's magnetism was pulling metal fixtures from the walls, creating barriers and weapons with equal efficiency. The way students who'd never shown an ounce of rebellion were standing their ground against authority for the first time in their lives. The way power was finally flowing in directions Vought hadn't scripted.
This is what we wanted, he realized. This is what rebellion looks like.
[SYSTEM: Pyrokinetic Blood Stability: 65%. Hero vibes, huh?]
The system's commentary felt different now—less mocking, more observational. As if even his own cynical inner voice recognized that something fundamental had shifted in the balance of power at Godolkin. The question was whether they could control the chaos they'd unleashed, or if it would consume them all.
A security guard rounded the corner, taser raised and face hidden behind riot gear. Landon's pyrokinetic blood responded before conscious thought, sending a controlled burst of flame that forced the man back without actually burning him. The precision required intense concentration, balancing power with restraint in ways that left his head pounding.
"Nice shot," Andre called out, magnetism yanking the guard's weapon away and into the growing pile of confiscated gear. "Remind me never to piss you off."
There was respect in Andre's voice that hadn't been there weeks ago, the kind of acknowledgment that came from watching someone prove themselves under pressure. It felt like approval Landon had never known he wanted, validation from someone whose opinion had somehow become important.
"Just returning the favor," Landon replied, wiping sweat from his forehead as the strain of maintaining precise control began to tell. "You've been watching my back since this started."
It was true. Andre had positioned himself as a mobile shield, using his magnetism to deflect projectiles and redirect attacks away from the more vulnerable students. The showboating and ego that usually defined his fighting style had been replaced by something more thoughtful, more protective.
Golden Boy emerged from a side corridor like a living flame, his powers casting dancing shadows on the walls as he moved with lethal purpose. But there was something different about Luke now—a focused intensity that spoke of hard-won wisdom rather than reckless anger. The trauma of The Woods had burned away the parts of him that used to hesitate, leaving behind someone who understood exactly what they were fighting against.
"Security's trying to flank us from the east wing," Luke reported, his Southern drawl cutting through the chaos with calm authority. "We need to consolidate, fall back to the main lobby."
"Consolidate?" Andre's laugh held no humor. "Brother, I'm just getting started. These corporate lackeys want to play with the big kids? Let's show them what real power looks like."
But Luke's expression didn't shift, flame flickering around his hands with controlled menace. "This isn't about showing off, Andre. It's about getting everyone out alive."
The tension between them was obvious—Andre's need to prove himself clashing with Luke's hard-earned understanding that victory meant more than just winning the fight. Landon found himself caught between their perspectives, part of him craving the validation that came from overwhelming display of power while another part recognized the wisdom in Luke's restraint.
[SYSTEM: Luke's your bro. Crew's tight.]
The system's observation felt accurate in ways that went beyond simple alliance. Because Luke was more than just an ally now—he was someone who'd looked into the abyss of institutional cruelty and chosen to fight back rather than surrender. That kind of courage wasn't tactical; it was personal.
"Luke's right," Landon said, stepping between them before the argument could escalate. "We make our point and get out. This was never about burning the place down."
"Wasn't it?" Andre's challenge carried hurt beneath the bravado. "Thought we were done playing by their rules."
"We are. But that doesn't mean we have to become what they say we are."
The words came from somewhere deeper than strategy, some part of him that still believed in the possibility of being better than the forces they were fighting against. It was naive, probably, but it was also the only thing standing between them and the kind of escalation that would give Vought exactly the excuse they needed to crack down harder.
Emma appeared beside them like materialized hope, her size-shifting allowing her to navigate the chaos in ways that bigger targets couldn't manage. She'd been serving as scout and messenger, using her abilities to coordinate between scattered groups of students throughout the building.
"West corridor's clear," she reported, slightly breathless from the effort of rapid size changes. "But there's more security coming from outside. Vought's called in reinforcements."
Of course they have. The escalation was predictable, almost scripted. Give students just enough rope to hang themselves, then use their rebellion as justification for even tighter control. It was a corporate strategy as old as power itself.
"How long do we have?" Landon asked, already running calculations in his head. They needed to extract maximum symbolic value from this moment while minimizing the ammunition they were giving their enemies.
"Maybe ten minutes before this place turns into a war zone," Emma replied. "Less if we keep throwing around powers like we're auditioning for the Seven."
Her point was valid, but Landon could see the hunger in Andre's eyes, the way Luke's flames flickered with suppressed intensity. They were powerful, all of them, and power without outlet had a way of building pressure until something exploded.
"Then we make the next ten minutes count," Landon decided. "But we do it smart. Surgical strikes, maximum impact, minimal collateral damage."
As if to underscore his point, Riley's telepathic abilities sent security guards stumbling in confusion while Mia's invisibility allowed her to disarm opponents without them ever knowing she was there. Tara's strength proved devastating when applied with precision rather than rage, creating barriers and clearing paths without causing permanent harm.
[SYSTEM: Emma's stepping up. Romance rising.]
The system's observation about Emma felt both accurate and incomplete. Because watching her coordinate rescue efforts and protect younger students wasn't just attractive—it was transformative. She'd found something in this chaos that she'd been missing before: purpose, courage, the knowledge that her unique abilities could protect people rather than just hide from them.
"You know," Landon said, moving closer to her as they prepared for the next phase of their extraction, "you're kind of amazing when you're being heroic."
Emma's blush was visible even in the emergency lighting, but her smile carried new confidence. "Yeah, well, someone's got to keep you boys from getting yourselves killed."
"My hero," Landon replied, meaning it more than the light tone suggested.
The moment stretched between them, fragile as spun glass but somehow solid enough to anchor him in the chaos surrounding them. Because this—protecting her, being protected by her, fighting for something larger than individual survival—felt like the closest thing to purpose he'd found since arriving at Godolkin.
A security drone rounded the corner, scanners sweeping for targets. Landon's pyrokinetic blood responded with controlled fury, flame dancing around his fingers as he prepared to disable the machine without triggering its more lethal protocols.
But before he could act, Andre's magnetism sent the drone spinning into the wall with casual efficiency, his showboating instincts reasserting themselves now that Emma was watching.
"Seriously?" Landon asked. "We just talked about this."
"What? It's disabled, isn't it?" Andre's grin was unrepentant. "Sometimes the direct approach is the most efficient."
Luke's flames flickered with amusement. "He's got a point. And we're running out of time for subtlety anyway."
[SYSTEM: Crew dynamics stabilizing. Don't mess it up now.]
The system's warning felt unnecessary. Because looking around at their faces—Marie's fierce determination, Andre's loyal bravado, Luke's hard-won wisdom, Emma's quiet courage—Landon realized that somewhere in the chaos of the last few weeks, they'd stopped being strategic assets and become something more dangerous.
They'd become family.
And family was worth fighting for, even when the odds were impossible and the enemy had deeper pockets than God.
The sound of approaching reinforcements echoed through the hallways, boots on concrete and the distinctive whine of advanced weapons powering up. Time was running out, but for the first time since arriving at Godolkin, Landon felt like they might actually have a chance.
Not because they were stronger than Vought, but because they finally knew what they were fighting for.
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
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