Cole and the Chef stood in mutual support, carefully watching Atasa's movements. With blinding speed, Cole dashed forward, his body a blur of concise precision.
Utilising his skills, Cole fired multiple rapid punches aimed at Atasa's head, abdomen, waist, and shoulder, but each blow was parried and neutralised by Atasa's swift, instinctive hand movements.
From a distance, the Chef tossed a thin table knife towards Atasa's forehead. While still distracted by Cole, Atasa heard the piercing whistle of the projectile and dropped to his knees, effectively dodging both the knife and Cole's barrage.
As a result, Cole's knuckles were grazed by the passing blade. Atasa used his low position to sweep Cole's feet off the ground. Before Cole's body could fully collapse, however, he snatched the escaping knife mid-air, using the momentum of his fall to enhance the speed and strength of the strike, nearly slicing Atasa's throat.
Atasa used his knees to spring backward, and through a stroke of luck and rapid thinking, he narrowly averted a fatal hit. Unfortunately, he had forgotten something...
Before Atasa's body could stabilise, the Chef rushed in, his leg movements stealthy yet quick. Though caught off guard, Atasa instinctively crossed both arms to his left side.
SWOOSH!
Atasa's wrist was slit—not deeply enough to be fatal, but a ripple of purple energy spread across his arm. The Chef's previously lifeless eyes widened in shock.
Without a moment's rest, Atasa appeared before him, placing a hand on the Chef's chest. The Chef gripped his knife tighter, ready to react, but Atasa was steps ahead.
He dodged each slice and slash aimed at his head as if he were conducting a symphony. Cole was on his way to assist, strategising a calculated blow to Atasa's back.
As the Chef tried to gain distance, Atasa raised his fingers, arranging them as though he were about to play a piano.
"Fire," he uttered.
A purple gleam built up in the space between his fingertips and the Chef's chest.
BANG!
Like a fired cannon, the Chef was shot instantaneously into the kitchen. The force and the resulting crash caused a loud, echoing noise that jolted Ohami, who was hiding at the far end beneath a table.
Cole halted his movement and leaped back, but before his feet could meet the ground, Atasa was already upon him. Atasa clenched his fists, tensed them with extreme force, and fired them rapidly at Cole's midsection like a machine gun.
Cole danced mid-air from the repetitive strikes, groaning in excruciating pain as his body was treated like a beating drum. Blood sprayed from his mouth as the wind swirled around the violent spectacle, further frightening Ohami, who curled into a ball and shut his eyes and ears.
Atasa delivered the concluding blow, sending Cole crashing to the floor, his body shattering the ground on impact. Once the loud banging faded, a gloomy silence returned; Cole was left incapacitated.
Lying breathless on the ruined floor, Cole shot Atasa a piercing stare, a vicious life burning within his gaze. Atasa smiled casually in response, maintaining his unwavering demeanour.
Atasa then shifted his focus to the person at the end of the room, his face twisting into a menacing smile. Ohami scooted backward; paralysed by trauma, his limbs refused to help him rise.
Atasa sauntered toward Ohami, seeming to enjoy the demolished decor of the restaurant. He approached Ohami, grabbed him by the collar as if he were a briefcase, and spoke in a chilling voice.
"You're coming with me."
BANG!
A loud sound accompanied by a bright flash of sparking light drew attention towards the kitchen. Atasa narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the unfolding events.
A static breeze made the hair rise across his body; a burning sensation enveloped his senses as he felt an unnatural amount of pressure wrapping around his neck, bleeding wrist, and fists.
Ohami shuddered like a rattled instrument, casting a confused yet hopeful look at the silhouette growing in the kitchen.
TAP! TAP! TAP!
Steady footsteps followed rhythmically, accompanied by a distorted crunching sound from within. The Chef stepped out—feet first, then chest, and finally his head, which bore a resigned expression.
His pupils had abandoned any sign of life they previously harboured. The Chef crooked his back and let his hands hang limp. Atasa neither spoke nor moved; instead, he maintained a steadfast focus on his next move.
The Chef's hair strands eerily framed his face. "Go no further," he spoke in a dry, frustrated tone. "Or your efforts will end in failure."
'This feeling is familiar; I've felt this somewhere before,' Atasa thought.
The atmosphere darkened. Cole shifted his eyes toward the Chef's body, slightly unsettled by what he saw. Indeed, the presence he witnessed now was different; not only in appearance, but the air around him was heavier.
The Chef raised his finger, then his thumb, and with a single snap, Atasa staggered back, dropping Ohami in the process. His eyes shone with a grey ambience.
"All your endeavours will result in futility," the Chef spoke, his tone shifting deeper within his throat. "That is the law of vanity."
Atasa leaned against a wall and inhaled heavy breaths. His veins stretched into lines; the lines parted and spread across his body, turning into cracks. Eventually, his body shattered like fragments of plastic.
"A puppet?" the Chef blurted, his eyes widening.
'For something this sturdy to be able to contain and withstand such a wavelength... only one Potter I know is capable of this.' The Chef stared blankly at the shattered pieces on the floor.
Ohami lay stunned beside Cole, both of them barely able to comprehend what they had just witnessed. Truth be told, everything from the cause of the fight to its conclusion was puzzling.
'Just what the hell...' Cole glared, half-paralysed. 'Did I just witness?'
The Chef sat down on a firm chair, clasped his hands, and wore a depressed expression as he lowered his head.
"As expected, nothing went accordingly. My efforts were pointless, and my hard work lies before me in ruins," he muttered. "Is there any way to escape this accursed fate?"
Meanwhile...
Dark smoke twirled repeatedly in a cycle, dispersing as specks of smaller matter. The matter then merged, folded, coiled, expanded, retracted, and pulsed; the end result was a small black orb radiating an immense wavelength.
The matter floated around before sinking into a bottle. Once inside, the bottle was sealed shut with a cork.
"How was the testing phase?" Atasa asked, placing his feet comfortably on the table as he leaned back in his cushioned chair.
"..."
"No response? That must mean it's going smoothly," he spoke to a mist-like haze clouding a portion of the room.
"I'm a little pained we didn't kill two birds with one stone. If we fulfilled our Lord's tasks while testing the new Potter techniques, we would soar even higher in the hierarchy," he continued.
"..."
"You're right, all in due time. Still, I wonder what deity the clone encountered to send such unpleasant chills down my spine." He darted his eyes upward, staring at the ceiling.
"..."
"So you won't tell me? Oh, how deities love their pride and absurdities. Doesn't matter either way; we'll go again soon." He stretched a mad grin across his face. "And the result WILL BE SUCCESS."