Mutant awakening: My evolution knows no bounds

Chapter 52: Reflex

The man staggered to a halt, his breathing ragged, his face contorted in a gruesome mask of pain and fury. Blood poured from his shattered nose, trickling down to his chin before splattering on the ground. His eyes burned with rage as he snarled, "How dare you, brat?!"

His hand trembled as he raised his blade once more, blood staining his fingers as they curled around the hilt. Despite the injury, the crafter wasn't done. Summoning the last of his energy, he activated his stealth ability once again. In a flash, his form shimmered and disappeared. Only the faint echo of his footsteps lingered in the air, leaving behind an unsettling silence.

But Silas didn't move. He stood his ground, his posture unwavering, as if he had anticipated every second of the encounter. His gaze remained sharp, focused, unfazed by the man's disappearance.

Tension rippled through the air, thick and suffocating, like the calm before a storm.

Angelica's breath hitched, and her eyes widened in fear as the man vanished before her. She quickly assumed a fighting stance, her limbs trembling but ready. "Silas, get back! This guy's a maniac!" she shouted, her voice barely masking the terror bubbling beneath her words. Her heart raced as her eyes darted from side to side, scanning every corner, but there was nothing—just emptiness.

Silas didn't budge. His calm, stoic expression remained as he too surveyed their surroundings. But his mind was already calculating his next move.

'His stealth has become much harder to detect. Seems he's finally pulling out all the stops,' Silas thought, his eyes flicking around the space, searching for any hint of movement.

Suddenly—

SLASH!

Silas barely registered the sound before he felt it—a sharp, searing pain tearing across his back. He hissed through clenched teeth as blood spattered in crimson arcs, staining the ground beneath him. The crafter had managed to land a hit, his blade slicing through flesh like a hot knife through butter.

Wincing, Silas spun on his heel, his fist shooting out in a blur toward the man's face. But before his punch could land, the man vanished once again, leaving nothing but the cold, empty air in his wake.

"Silas!" Angelica cried out, her voice cracking with panic as she rushed toward him. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with concern. "Are you hurt? Let me see!"

She reached out, desperate to inspect the wound, but Silas turned away swiftly, blocking her from getting a closer look. The cut had already begun healing, and he wasn't about to let her find out about his regenerative ability. That secret was his to keep.

"It's fine," Silas said with a forced grin, trying to calm her down. "Just a tiny scratch."

"A tiny scratch? Silas, there's blood all over the place! Let me take a look," Angelica insisted, her voice rising as she stepped forward and tried to examine his back. But to her astonishment, there was nothing. The wound had vanished completely. "What the...

I swear I saw him cut you!"

Angelica gasped, her fear momentarily giving way to awe. Silas turned to her, his expression calm. "Angelica, go back to the academy. I'll handle this. I'll catch up with you later," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"But Silas—" Angelica protested, her voice trembling with worry.

"Go," Silas insisted, his gaze firm. "I've got this."

For a long moment, Angelica hesitated, her eyes flickering between Silas and the fallen crafter. Finally, she nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay... be careful, alright?" she said softly, before turning and sprinting away, her lightning ability crackling at her heels, propelling her forward at incredible speed.

As her figure disappeared into the distance, Silas turned back to the crafter, who was struggling to rise to his feet. Blood dripped freely from his nose, his face a battered mess.

"You sent her away?" the man spat, his voice laced with disdain as he glared at Silas. "What, you think you're that much stronger than me, brat?!"

Silas's expression remained cold and unyielding. "No," he said darkly, stepping closer, "I sent her away because I don't want her to see what's about to happen to you." A sinister grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with menace.

The crafter felt a cold chill crawl down his spine. Instinctively, he took a step back, his hands trembling as he tightened his grip on the blade.

'What is with this kid? He doesn't even have a mutant ability, but... he's terrifying. Something about him is just—wrong,' the man thought, panic welling up inside him.

"What... what are you talking about?" the crafter stammered, his voice faltering.

"You forced me to use ten soul points. Points I didn't plan on burning so soon," Silas replied, his voice eerily calm. "Now you're going to help me replenish them. And I'll gain some attributes while I'm at it."

The man blinked, confused. "Soul points? What the hell are you—"

Silas didn't bother to answer. He continued walking toward the man, each step heavy with purpose.

"Dammit! I'm not sticking around for this!" the crafter shouted, spinning on his heel to flee. But as he turned, his blood ran cold. Silas was already behind him, blocking his escape.

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A/N: No Golden Tickets and Power stones? Hmm..