Chapter 6: Magnetic Mischief
Metal screeched against metal in Godolkin's outdoor training field, the sound crawling up Landon's spine like fingernails on a chalkboard. Morning dew still clung to the grass, soaking through his sneakers as he circled Andre Anderson, calculating his approach. The magnetism manipulator stood at the center of a web of floating metal objects—screws, nails, small training weights—his expression a mask of practiced concentration.
Today's death will hurt. But the power will be worth it.
Landon had chosen his target carefully. Andre's magnetism abilities ranked C+ on Vought's scale, versatile and potent in the right hands. More importantly, Andre's powers operated on instinct when threatened—a hair-trigger defensive system that would kill quickly and efficiently when properly provoked.
"Ready when you are, Vale," Andre called, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Unless you're planning to stare me to death."
They'd been assigned as sparring partners for the morning's training session, an opportunity too perfect to waste. Landon had spent days laying the groundwork—establishing himself as just competent enough to be a training partner, but weak enough that Andre wouldn't expect a real challenge.
"Just thinking about how much your dad would be disappointed by that stance," Landon replied, deliberately hitting Andre's sorest spot. "Didn't Magneto Junior have better form in his freshman year?"
The barb struck precisely as intended. Andre's expression hardened, the metal objects around him vibrating with sudden tension. His father's legacy was an open wound, the constant comparisons a burden he carried with visible resentment.
"Shut your mouth about my father," Andre warned, a sliver of genuine anger breaking through his casual facade. The small metal objects began to orbit him faster, responding to his emotional state.
Landon pressed the advantage, circling closer. "Hey, no judgment. Must be tough knowing you'll never measure up, no matter how hard you try."
The first projectile—a nail—shot toward him with lethal velocity. Landon allowed his Enhanced Speed to activate partially, dodging just enough to make the miss look accidental rather than calculated. The nail embedded itself in the training field's fence with a solid thunk.
"Oops," Landon taunted, dropping his stutter completely. "Touched a nerve?"
Andre's control was slipping, his breathing accelerating as more metal objects began to quiver and lift from the surrounding area. The training weights fell forgotten to the ground as he pulled power from further afield—screws from the bleachers, chains from the equipment rack, even the metal aglets from Landon's shoelaces.
Perfect. Just a little more.
"Your father would have killed me by now," Landon said softly, the words carrying clearly in the tense silence. "Guess the talent got diluted."
Something snapped in Andre's expression. The air around him distorted with magnetic force as every metal object within thirty yards responded to his rage. Landon braced himself, positioning his body for maximum impact as the cloud of metal projectiles surged toward him in a lethal wave.
The pain was extraordinary—dozens of metal fragments tearing through flesh, larger objects crushing bone, the magnetic pressure itself compressing his organs until they ruptured. Landon felt his ribcage collapse, puncturing lungs and heart, as consciousness fled in a rush of agony.
Landon revived in a maintenance shed, the smell of motor oil and damp earth filling his restored lungs. Static electricity crawled across his skin, raising the fine hairs on his arms and neck as his body adjusted to its new ability. Every metal object in the small space—tools, fasteners, the hinges on the door—seemed to pulse in his awareness, their presence registering like a sixth sense.
[MAGNETISM (C+) ACQUIRED. SHOCKING, LITERALLY. DON'T ZAP YOUR FRIENDS.]
The system's message flashed across his vision as Landon pushed himself upright, wincing at the phantom pains that lingered in his chest. Each death left its mark—not physically, but in the echoing memory of trauma that his body couldn't quite forget. The magnetic crush had been particularly brutal, the sensation of being compacted from all sides lingering in his joints and muscles.
C+ rank. A solid mid-tier ability with versatile applications. Landon tested it cautiously, extending his awareness toward a screwdriver lying on a nearby workbench. The tool trembled, then rose shakily into the air, wobbling as he guided it through simple patterns. The control was imprecise, nothing like Andre's fluid manipulation, but usable.
A wave of paranoia washed over him suddenly, skin prickling with the certainty of being watched. Landon spun, scanning the empty shed with wild eyes, the screwdriver clattering back to the bench. Nothing. No one. Just the aftereffects of death and revival, the system's cruel debuff for his latest power.
Get it together. Andre will be looking for you.
He took a steadying breath, forcing the paranoia down with practiced mental discipline. Six deaths. Six powers. Each one bringing him closer to survival in this lethal environment, but each revival leaving him a little less stable, a little less human.
Landon slipped out of the shed, using Shape-Shifting to alter his appearance just enough to avoid immediate recognition as he made his way back to the dorms. The morning sun cast long shadows across the campus grounds, students moving between buildings with the casual purpose of people unaware that death walked among them daily.
One more power. Just one more good one, and I might actually stand a chance.
"You're certifiably insane," Marie declared, dropping onto the quad bench beside Landon. The afternoon light filtered through oak leaves overhead, dappling the grass with shifting patterns that seemed to mimic his unsettled thoughts. "Provoking Andre? The guy who could turn your blood into a magnetic blender?"
Landon offered a casual shrug, though his neck still tingled with static electricity whenever metal came too close. "He's not as dangerous as everyone thinks."
"Tell that to the three bent metal poles and crater in the training field." Marie's voice carried equal parts annoyance and reluctant admiration. "Campus security is still trying to figure out what happened to you."
"Like I told Andre, I ducked behind the equipment shed at the last second. Lucky timing."
Marie's skeptical expression made it clear she wasn't buying his explanation, but something held her back from pushing harder—perhaps her own secrets creating a boundary of respect. The iron scent that always lingered around her intensified slightly as she leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"Three 'accidents' in three weeks, Landon. Jake, Tara, and now Andre. That's not coincidence. That's a pattern."
Landon's heart rate spiked, though he maintained his practiced expression of mild confusion. "Bad luck follows me. Always has."
"Bullshit." The word carried no heat, just tired certainty. "Whatever game you're playing, it's going to get you killed for real one of these days."
If only she knew how right she was.
Andre's approach saved Landon from formulating a response. The magnetism manipulator crossed the quad with purpose, his expression unreadable as he headed straight for their bench. Marie tensed beside Landon, her abilities humming just beneath the surface—blood manipulation primed for defense.
"Vale," Andre greeted, stopping a few feet away. His gaze was calculating, searching Landon's face for... something. "You're looking surprisingly intact."
"Disappointed?" Landon raised an eyebrow, keeping his tone light.
"Curious." Andre crossed his arms, magnetic energy making the zipper on his jacket quiver slightly. "That equipment shed should have been shredded by the magnetic field. Yet here you are, without a scratch."
Marie glanced between them, the tension evident in her posture. "Maybe he's just lucky."
"Nobody's that lucky," Andre replied, not taking his eyes off Landon. "Especially not three times in a row."
Landon met his gaze steadily, allowing a hint of his true nature to surface—the calculated risk-taker beneath the stuttering facade. "Maybe I'm not what I seem."
The statement hung in the air, a gambit that could backfire spectacularly. But Andre's reaction surprised him—a short bark of laughter, genuine amusement replacing suspicion.
"No shit." Andre shook his head, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You know what? I don't even care anymore. Whatever your deal is, Vale, it's making things interesting around here."
Marie relaxed marginally, though confusion flickered across her features at the unexpected de-escalation. Landon seized the opening, offering a self-deprecating smile.
"Speaking of interesting, nice work with that magnetic field. Your control's improving."
"Was that a compliment or an apology for being an ass about my dad?" Andre asked, though his tone had lost its edge.
"Little of both." Landon shifted on the bench, making room. "Want to join the outcasts' club? Membership requires surviving at least one near-death experience."
Andre hesitated, then dropped onto the bench beside them. "Already paid my dues on that count. Freshman year, golden boy Luke nearly barbecued me during training."
The conversation shifted to safer territory—shared complaints about Godolkin's ruthless hierarchy, Professor Brink's impossible standards, Dean Shetty's transparent favoritism. The banter flowed surprisingly easily, Marie gradually joining in with dry observations that revealed her sharp intelligence beneath her guarded exterior.
Landon participated with practiced charm, but part of him remained detached, analyzing this unexpected social development. Andre and Marie weren't just useful allies anymore—they were becoming something dangerously close to friends, people who might actually care if he lived or died.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
[BANTER SUCCESS: GROUP'S WARMING UP. KEEP IT COOL, QUIPSTER.]
Tara's furious shout echoed down the dormitory hallway, audible even through the reinforced walls designed to contain supe outbursts. Landon pressed himself against an alcove, suppressing a grin as he listened to the strength supe's discovery of his latest prank.
He'd used his new magnetism abilities with surgical precision, rearranging the metal components in her room while she was at training—dresser drawers that now opened from the inside out, a chair with reversed supports that collapsed when sat upon, and her prized weightlifting medals fused into an unflattering sculpture.
The prank served multiple purposes: testing his control over smaller metal components, establishing a pattern of behavior that explained his interest in other supes' abilities, and, if he was honest, a small measure of payback for the ribcage-crushing death she'd inflicted on him weeks earlier.
"VALE!" Tara's voice carried the promise of violence as she stormed into the hallway, face flushed with rage. "I know it was you!"
Landon remained hidden, using Shape-Shifting to alter his appearance just enough to blend into the wall's shadows. The dorm population had wisely evacuated upon hearing Tara's initial outburst, leaving the corridor eerily empty as she stalked past his hiding spot.
A soft giggle from the adjacent hallway caught his attention. Emma Meyer peered around the corner, her small frame practically vibrating with suppressed laughter as she watched Tara's rampage.
"You're going to get yourself killed," she whispered as Landon slipped over to join her, returning to his normal appearance. "Was it worth it?"
"Ask me again when she's not actively hunting me," Landon replied, his smile genuine for once. "But yeah, probably."
Emma's eyes sparkled with mischief and something warmer that made Landon's chest tighten unexpectedly. "The reverse-functioning dresser was inspired. How did you even do that?"
"Trade secret." He winked, deflecting with humor rather than explaining his magnetism abilities. The "copy ability" lie only stretched so far, and Emma was observant enough to notice discrepancies if he wasn't careful.
They retreated to the relative safety of the common room as Tara's search continued on the upper floors. Emma perched on the arm of a worn sofa, legs swinging slightly, her size-shifting abilities unconsciously making her just a bit smaller than usual—a defensive habit when she was nervous or excited.
"You really like living dangerously, don't you?" she asked, studying him with unexpected intensity.
Landon shrugged, though the question hit closer to home than she could know. "Makes life interesting."
"There are safer ways to be interesting." Emma's voice softened, a blush creeping up her neck. "Like, I don't know, actually showing up for that coffee date you keep postponing."
The invitation caught him off guard. Between deaths, power acquisitions, and strategic alliances, Landon had nearly forgotten the casual date they'd tentatively planned. The reminder of normal human interaction—something as simple as coffee with someone who seemed genuinely interested—felt jarringly out of place in his calculated existence.
"Tomorrow," he found himself saying. "Four o'clock at Perks."
Emma's smile brightened her entire face. "I'll believe it when I see it, Vale."
Tara's approaching footsteps forced them to cut the conversation short. Landon slipped away with a final grin, using Enhanced Speed to exit the building before she could corner him. As he crossed the quad, the afternoon sun warm against his skin, he found himself looking forward to tomorrow with an anticipation that had nothing to do with powers or survival.
[PRANK SUCCESS: TARA'S MAD, EMMA'S IMPRESSED. NICE BALANCE.]
The system's message flashed briefly across his vision, its sarcasm oddly muted compared to its usual mockery. Landon allowed himself a genuine smile as he headed toward his next class, the static electricity of his new ability humming beneath his skin like an unspoken promise.
Six deaths. Six powers. A growing circle of people who might actually care what happened to him. The game was changing, evolving beyond mere survival into something more complex—something with stakes beyond his own life and death.
Whether that made him stronger or more vulnerable remained to be seen.
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
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