“Ariel?” he whispered softly, stepping close.

She looked up, tears carving tracks across her cheeks. “They think I killed a teacher,” she choked out. “High-voltage electricity—my power signature matches. I’m the prime suspect.”

Mark’s breath hitched. A junior, suspected of murder. The academy had rules. If Ariel was expelled, her chances at becoming prefect—and later head girl—were gone forever.

He knelt beside her and took her hands in his. “They’re wrong. You’re no danger. I’ll clear this up—no one will push you out.”

Her tears eased, and relief bloomed in her eyes. “You… you’d do that?”

He nodded, firm and sure. “Of course.”

That night, uprooted by rumors of the incident, Mark walked beneath moonlit corridors to the training area where an old dimension-warp bus stood abandoned. Scrawled across its side in faint black: “10 years ago—Chicago.” The handwriting felt unmistakably like the spy’s.

Anger ignited, and he struck the side of the bus with a fist. Metal buckled. A jagged hole tore open. The world seemed to shudder.

A voice came softly from behind—Heather, her pink hair silhouetted in cold light. She’d watched.

“Is that how strong you think you are?” she challenged.

Mark turned, heart pounding. “You want to test it? Come at me.”

She smiled coolly and attacked.

Heather moved with lethal grace: each strike measured, precise. She smashed into Mark’s defenses, forcing him backward. He gritted his teeth, pain flaring. For the first time, he felt real pressure.

Mark summoned his Avos core. Concrete-like weapons sprang from nothing—spikes, discs, barriers—emerging instantly and altering the battlefield. Heather sidestepped a jagged wall, launching a counter that he barely blocked.

He unleashed Destruction: a concussive energy blast arcing from his palm to the ground, leaving scorched concrete. Heather staggered, momentarily off guard.

Yet she rose, wiping weakness from her gaze. “Still not strong enough.”

Mark’s chest tightened as he realized her calm certainty: she knew she held the upper hand. Disappointment pressed in, mingled with respect. She’d bested him—and left him doubting.

The fight's outcome twisted something deep inside him.