NOVEL NEXT Chapter 16: No Way Out
Joren Tael clenched his right fist and jabbed it toward the ground with a sharp motion.
Crack!
Charles felt a chill and, before he could overthink it, the floor beneath him quaked—a faint but unmistakable tremor.
'Crap!' he thought, leaping back on pure instinct.
Whoosh!
Right where he'd stood, the earth spiked up in jagged points, like it was trying to snag him.
The attack missed, and the spikes froze, lifeless, as dust drifted in the air.
Joren clicked his tongue, clearly ticked off.
"Hold still!" he shouted, his voice thick with frustration. "Keep resisting, and I'll add to the report that you didn't just steal a fighter's tunic—you fought back against your punishment too."
His eyes burned with anger, his stance rigid, like he was holding back the urge to tackle Charles himself.
Charles, still catching his balance, let out a short laugh.
"What's wrong, Joren? Can't handle someone who's supposedly not a fighter?" he said, flashing a grin that masked how nervous he felt.
Even though this was his third fight in this world, he still wasn't fully used to this body.
Rian's body wasn't just fit—it was faster, with reflexes his old self could only dream of.
Still… he was pumped.
"If you're so sure I'm a fraud, come and get me."
The dining hall's murmurs swelled.
"What'd he say?" a servant whispered, leaning toward his friend.
"He's challenging Joren!" another gasped, shocked.
A woman shook her head.
"This idiot's gonna end up broken," she said, laughing.
Joren gritted his teeth, his face red with rage. He shoved the parchment board at the guard, who took it with a confused look.
"Don't expect this to be easy," Joren growled, raising both hands.
Rumble!
He made a sharp gesture, and the floor in front of him split. A thick stone pillar, tall as a man, burst from the ground with a deafening crunch. Joren stepped forward and, with a clean kick, snapped it in half.
Crack!
The top chunk, about the size of a chair, rocketed toward Charles at full speed.
Whizz!
Charles ducked just in time, feeling the air hum above his head.
Bam!
The stone slab sailed past, smashing into a table, shattering plates, and knocking a servant to the floor.
"Hey!" the guy yelled, drenched in soup.
Charles couldn't help but laugh, though his heart was racing.
"Careful, Joren!" he called, straightening up. "You're gonna hurt your own side!"
Joren didn't answer.
Half the pillar was still there, and he used it without missing a beat. With another hand motion, the remaining stone broke into smaller chunks—fist-sized rocks. He hurled them at Charles one after another, each whistling through the air.
Zip! Zip! Zip!
Charles moved fast, darting between tables, dodging each projectile with reflexes that surprised even him.
Boom!
The rocks slammed into chairs, walls, and, in one case, a guy's back, who let out a pained yelp.
"Damn it!" the cook shouted from the counter, ducking a shard that smashed a pot. "They're wrecking the dining hall! Stop this, Rian!"
Complaints erupted from every corner.
"This is all his fault!" a woman snapped, wiping stew off her clothes.
"Just give up, useless!" an angry servant barked.
"Quit causing trouble!" another added.
No one blamed Joren—every finger pointed at Charles. But he barely heard them.
Something weird was happening in his body. As he ran and dodged, he felt a spark growing—not like before.
The electricity wasn't in his hands or arms; it was in his feet and back, a tingle that buzzed with every step.
'What's this?' he thought, confused but sharp.
Joren kept chucking rocks, getting angrier by the second.
"Stop running!" he roared, raising his hands again.
Rumble!
The ground shook, and another stone pillar shot up in front of him, ready to be weaponized.
Charles saw his shot. He couldn't keep fighting in the dining hall—not with all these people around and Joren tearing the place apart.
Dodging a pair of servants trying to block him, Charles vaulted onto a table for distance and bolted for the exit.
'Gotta get there!' he thought, hearing Joren's footsteps pounding behind him.
"You're not escaping!" Joren yelled, chasing him down the hall.
Charles rounded a corner and sprinted to the fountain—the same spot where he'd fought Toren Vask's sons.
To Joren, Rian had made a fatal mistake: it was a dead end.
'Got you,' Joren thought, stopping a few yards away. He raised his hands slowly, and the earth quaked again.
Grind!
A massive stone wall began rising behind him, forming a solid barrier to seal the exit.
It took a few seconds, rocks grinding into place. Joren smirked, certain he'd won. But then he saw something that left him speechless.
Charles wasn't trying to run. He was doing push-ups—fast and frantic, hands slamming the ground over and over.
His breathing was heavy, but he kept going, like nothing else mattered.
'What's he doing?' Joren thought, frowning.
He'd expected an attack, a climb over the wall, or a desperate swing—not this.
'Has he actually lost it?'
Joren shook his head, convinced Rian was no threat.
'He's done,' he thought, stepping toward him.
The wall finished forming, a tall, solid slab. Joren crossed his arms.
"No one's watching now, Rian," he said with contempt. "Don't think this ends with a slap on the wrist. You stole a tunic, lied, and now you're resisting. You're gonna pay for it all."
Charles stopped, standing up. He glanced at his hands, a grin spreading across his face.
The electricity was there—racing through his legs, feet, and now his arms and hands.
"You know what, Joren?" he said, turning to face him. "Thanks for giving me time."
Joren blinked.
"What?" he growled, but before he could move, Charles lunged toward the fountain. With a swift kick, he blasted the water jet, sending a spray of droplets at Joren.
Splash!
The supervisor let out a short laugh.
'This was his plan?' he thought, not bothering to shield himself.
The water soaked him, running down his tunic and face.
"Pathetic," he muttered, ready to end it.
Then he felt it.
Zzzap!
A sharp jolt ripped through him, like lightning had struck.
"Aghhh!" he screamed, muscles seizing as electricity surged.
His legs buckled, and he hit the ground with a Thud!, eyes wide.
'What… what was that?' he thought, mind fogged with pain.
"Son of a… bitch," Joren mumbled before everything went black and he passed out.
Charles landed on the ground, panting but grinning.
"I did it!" he shouted, eyeing Joren's limp form.
The water had amplified the electricity, just like with Toren Vask's sons.
'This fountain's my MVP,' he thought, relieved—but his victory lap was cut short.
Crash!
A crunch echoed behind the wall. A chunk of stone shattered, collapsing in pieces.
Through the dust stepped a tall guy with messy brown hair and an arrogant smirk.
Charles knew him instantly.
Kain Cole.
One of the first people he'd run into in this world.
Lira's cousin, notorious for his strength and foul temper. Kain scanned the wet ground, then Joren's unconscious body, and finally Charles, standing by the fountain.
"What happened here?" he asked, his voice cold and sharp.