The first spark changed everything.
But it didn't end the fight.
The man with the baton stepped back, shaking his hand violently.
"What the hell was that?!" he snapped.
Michael didn't answer.
Because he didn't know how to.
He stared at his own hand.
Electricity.
Not imagined.
Not fake.
Real.
And barely under control.
The second man moved first.
Faster. Smarter.
He didn't hesitate like the other one.
He rushed in low—aiming for Michael's legs.
Michael reacted late.
Too late.
His body moved—but not enough.
The man slammed into him, taking him to the ground.
Air left Michael's lungs instantly.
"—ghk—"
No time to think.
No time to process.
Only instinct.
His hand shot out.
Not controlled.
Not planned.
CRACK.
A burst of electricity snapped between them.
The man flinched hard, muscles locking for a split second.
Not enough to knock him out—
But enough.
Michael twisted his body and shoved him off.
Rolled away.
Stood up fast.
Breathing heavier now.
"…Okay," he muttered. "So panic equals electricity. Noted."
The first man grabbed the baton again.
This time more careful.
More afraid.
"Don't get close," he said to his partner.
"Yeah, no kidding," the other replied, flexing his fingers.
They spread out.
Trying to corner him.
Michael backed up slowly.
Eyes moving between them.
Brain working fast now.
He already knew something important:
This wasn't like games.
No cooldowns.
No safety.
If he messed up—
He'd get hit.
Badly.
The baton came again.
From the side this time.
Michael raised his arm to block—
Wrong move.
The impact slammed into his forearm.
Pain exploded instantly.
He staggered.
"…Yeah," he hissed, "that still hurts."
No system helping him.
No boost.
No sudden power-up.
Just him.
And something unstable inside him.
The second man rushed again.
Michael forced himself to stay calm.
No panic.
No random reaction.
He remembered the feeling.
The tension.
The trigger.
Grip.
Focus.
A small spark formed in his palm—
Cleaner this time.
The man got close—
Michael stepped forward instead of back.
And pushed.
ZAP.
The shock hit directly this time.
Short.
Sharp.
Controlled—barely.
The man jerked back with a shout, stumbling away.
His muscles spasmed, but he stayed conscious.
Michael stared.
"…That worked better."
The baton came again.
Faster.
Angrier.
Michael ducked this time.
Too slow—
The edge clipped his shoulder.
Pain again.
Sharp.
Real.
But closer now.
Too close.
Michael reacted instinctively.
His hand grabbed the man's wrist—
And electricity snapped again.
Stronger this time.
CRACK.
The baton fell.
The man dropped with it, collapsing to one knee, cursing loudly.
Silence hit the room.
Heavy.
Both men were breathing hard now.
But so was Michael.
He stepped back slightly.
Hands raised—not aggressively.
Just ready.
"…You guys done?" he asked.
Voice steady.
But not confident.
The two men exchanged a look.
Something changed.
Not fear exactly.
But calculation.
"This isn't worth it," one muttered.
"Yeah," the other agreed quickly.
They backed off.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
The door shut behind them.
Silence returned.
Michael stood there for a few seconds.
Not moving.
Not speaking.
Then—
"…Okay," he exhaled. "That could've gone worse."
His arm throbbed.
His shoulder hurt.
His breathing wasn't stable.
But he was standing.
The system appeared quietly.
[EVENT COMPLETED]
Survive encounter
[REWARD: +50 TP]
Michael looked at it.
"…So I don't get stronger when I fight," he said quietly.
A pause.
"…I get paid after."
He looked down at his hand.
A faint static still lingered.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "That makes sense."
From upstairs—
Footsteps.
The gym owner.
Michael glanced up.
Then back at the door.
Then at his hand.
"…I'm going to need a plan," he said softly