Chapter 7

Ryder looked around the large basement room the flyer had led him to. It was dimly lit, the flickering bulbs casting long shadows over the faces of the spectators already crowding the room. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and blood. It was like it seeped into the walls, every square inch of the room smelled of the stuff.

For some reason, no one bothered with this place. There were plenty of cops and heroes in New York—so how did it make sense that none of them had shut this place down? It was an illegal mutant fighting ring, plain and simple, and yet it operated freely, hidden right under the noses of the authorities. Ryder had to wonder how deep the corruption went for this place to be open to anyone.

He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the stares of the crowd as he made his way toward the back of the room where the fighters gathered. Some looked at him with pity, others with disdain. He knew what they were thinking. He looked out of place here—scrawny, ordinary, like he didn't belong. In truth, he felt the same. But he was already here, might as well give it a shot.

Fights went on as the line got smaller. Ryder was beginning to feel sick around the 12th fight. Over half of the others had died, there weren't any referee's around, so Ryder watched as over and over again mutants fought to the death, and he was next.

A booming voice jolted him out of his thoughts. The announcer, a burly man with a gravelly voice, calling out the next fighters. "Thrasher versus Ryder!"

He flinched, not recalling ever telling anyone here his name. Sure he hadn't made an effort to hide his face, but they already knew his name? He reached out to set his wallet down, only to realize it was gone. A student ID and ten bucks was all that was left in it anyway.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Thrasher, a hulking brute with spikes jutting from his forearms, stepped into the ring. He was all muscle and menace, basking in the adulation of the audience as though he already knew he'd won. Ryder could feel his stomach knotting tighter with every passing second.

This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come here.

But then he remembered why he had. He had power. He wasn't normal anymore, and this would be the quickest way to figure it all out.

He stepped into the ring, his heart hammering in his chest. The boos and jeers from the crowd washed over him, but he forced himself to stay focused. It didn't matter what they thought. They didn't know him. They didn't know what he could do—hell, even he didn't fully know what he was capable of yet.

The fight started before Ryder had time to think. Thrasher charged at him, moving faster than Ryder expected for someone so big. He barely dodged the first swing, the spiked fist whistling past his face. He stumbled, almost tripping over his own feet, but managed to stay upright. His heart pounded in his ears, the sound of the crowd blending into a blur of noise as adrenaline surged through his veins.

Thrasher didn't let up. He swung again, and this time, Ryder wasn't quick enough. The blow landed hard against his side, sending him sprawling to the ground. Pain flared in his ribs, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. The crowd roared in approval, already counting him out.

But Ryder wasn't done yet.

He scrambled to his feet, gasping for air as Thrasher taunted him. "C'mon, kid. Just stay down. Make it easy on yourself."

Ryder didn't respond. He couldn't afford to. Instead, he focused on moving, on keeping his distance, trying to bide his time. Thrasher was strong—brutally so—but he was also overconfident. He fought like someone who had never been truly challenged, someone who relied on brute strength alone to win. And Ryder knew that would be his downfall.

Another swing. Another dodge. Ryder's movements were erratic, uncoordinated, but they kept him just out of reach. Each time he avoided a hit, he felt the stirrings of something inside him, something he had felt only one time before. His power.

The next blow came faster, and Ryder reacted on instinct. He dodged—no, teleported—without meaning to. One second he was in front of Thrasher, the next he was behind him, his body moving through space in the blink of an eye.

The crowd gasped.

Ryder's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't meant to do that—it had just happened. But now that it had, he felt it again, that crackling energy beneath his skin, like static building up just waiting to be released. He mentally grabbed onto the energy, forcing it to stay active instead of blinking out like it had earlier.

Thrasher spun around, furious, but Ryder was gone again, reappearing on the other side of the ring. This time, it wasn't an accident. He was starting to control it, starting to understand the rhythm of his power.

He could almost feel himself tugging on the energy, reigning it in and taking control.

The crowd's boos turned to murmurs of confusion and excitement. Thrasher, disoriented and angry, charged again, but Ryder was ready. He teleported just as Thrasher's spiked arm swung down, leaving the brute to crash into the empty space where Ryder had been.

For the first time since stepping into the ring, Ryder felt something close to confidence. He couldn't overpower Thrasher, but he didn't need to. All he had to do was outlast him, wear him down.

Another teleport. Another miss. Thrasher was growing more frustrated by the second, his attacks becoming wilder, less controlled. Ryder, on the other hand, was getting faster, more precise with each teleportation.

He could hear the crowd now, their voices rising in excitement. This wasn't the fight they had expected, and Ryder was no longer the underdog they had written off.

Thrasher roared, his anger only making him more erratic. He lunged one final time, all of his strength behind the attack, but Ryder was already gone. He reappeared behind Thrasher, and without thinking, Ryder threw a punch. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Thrasher, off-balance and disoriented, staggered forward before collapsing face-first onto the ground.

Silence fell over the crowd for a split second, then erupted into a mix of cheers and shocked murmurs.

Ryder stood there, panting, his body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline. He had won.

As the announcer declared him the victor, Ryder's mind raced. He had come here to see what he could do, and now he somewhat knew. Standing in the middle of the ring with the crowd roaring in approval, he realized that this fight had been about more than that.

It had been about survival. And he had more fight in him than even he had realized. He smirked down at Thrasher, his arms buzzing with energy as he watched the older man get dragged away. He could get used to that feeling…

The feeling of winning.

A/N: Make sure to vote some powerstones for bonus chapters this week!