Left in Rage

Akira growls, closing the distance between them in an instant. He grabs the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground.

The man struggles, his hands scratching at Akira's iron hold.

"You'll...regret this,"

He gasps out, his voice desperate.

"You don't know who I work for-"

Akira's hand closes tighter, eyes blazing like twin suns.

"I know and they're next."

Akira lets out a deafening roar and throws the man across the room, his body slamming into the wall with a loud, echoing crash.

The agent sinks to the floor, half-unconscious, his body battered and bruised.

If he weren't awakened, the sheer damage he's endured from the rentless attacks of Akira would have killed him ten times over.

Bruised and bleeding, he struggled to his feet, his will burning like a dying ember that refused to be snuffed out.

His body shook under Akira's relentless assault, but his hands rose and conjured into being two orbs of fire that hovered ominously in the air.

"Igneso Purify him!"

The spheres of flames lunge forward in blurring arcs of fire and deadly accuracy.

Akira's eyes glow bright as he sidesteps the first ball, flips backward to avoid the second.

But his eyes sharpen when he saw the flames bend in mid-air, like relentless predators homing in on their target.

"Tchh,"

Akira mutters, planting his feet on the cracked pavement.

His aura crackles with renewed strength, the white lightning coiling around him like serpents.

"Fine."

"Let's see what your fire can do against this."

He gives a sharp motion with his hand then.

"White Lightning!

A blinding streak of electricity tears through the air, striking the flaming orbs in a deafening explosion.

The clash sends ripples through the street, and windows shatter in its wake.

Smoke and embers fill the air.

The agent smirks, a flicker of relief crossing his bruised face.

"Got you now, you little—"

Before he can get it out, Akira bursts from the smoke with an unscathed body.

He shoots forward in a burst of motion too fast for human comprehension.

"What?!"

The agent shouts, his eyes wide in incredulous awe.

Akira's leg arcs through the air, heel slamming into the agent's face with bone-shattering force.

The impact sends him flying across the street his body crashes into a light pole with a really sickening clang.

The pole bends under the force, an agent's limp form crumpling to the ground.

The crowd, having kept a safe distance away, erupts in gasps and screams.

Mothers cover their children's eyes; men and women whisper in terror, the trembling in their voices all too apparent.

Akira strides toward the fallen agent, eyes glowing-cold, unyielding.

"Get up,"

He says in a low, venomous voice.

"Fight me."

"Don't you dare die yet."

"You don't get to escape what you deserve."

The agent grunts, his body trembling as he struggles to move his face a smear of blood and dirt.

"Y-You...You're a monster,"

He wheezes, coughing violently.

Akira's lips curve into an unamusing smile.

"A monster?"

There is a chilling calm in his voice.

He squats down, his hand gripping the agent by the collar, lifting him well off the ground with unnatural ease.

"You fuckers turned me into one."

Akira hurls him into the pavement with a savage twist, cracking the ground beneath him.

The agent screams, but Akira isn't done.

He reaches in and grasps the man's arm, his grip as unforgiving as a vice.

"First, your arms."

"You don't need those anymore,"

Akira growls with no tinge of pity.

A sickening snap of bone echoes in the air as Akira twists, breaking the agent's arm in one brutal motion.

A scream pierces the night from the agent, chilling all who can hear it.

"Then your legs,"

Akira continues, tone eerily calm, as he stamps down on the agent's knee, shattering it.

The man cries softer now, weakening as pain overtakes him.

The onlookers watch the scene build up, fear rising in their bodies.

Some of them had turned their faces away, disallowing the sight of such a brutal incident. Others whispered prayers, hoping someone-anyone-would stop the boy whose wrath seemed unending.

But Akira doesn't stop.

He stands over the broken man, his aura intensifying, arcs of lightning around him snapping violently like a storm in its prime.

"You don't deserve a quick death,"

Akira spits, his voice trembling with rage.

"You deserve to feel every ounce of pain you've caused."

"Every scream."

"Every tear."

The agent, barely conscious by then, sputters weakly.

"P-Please...mercy.

Akira's eyes are ablaze as he stares back, unblinking.

"Mercy?"

He repeats, his voice like a whip, cutting.

"Where was your mercy when you destroyed my family?"

"When you tore apart innocent lives?"

"How dare you even to mention that word!!!"

The white lightning gathers on his palm, spiraling and crackling, brighter with each passing second.

The street bathes in its heavy light; its sheer intensity makes onlookers shield their eyes.

Energy sweeps forward, as if in a cascade of too many bolts to count, all pummeling the broken body of the agent beneath.

With every strike, true it lands, and the quaking earth shakes around it.

The man's screams are swallowed by the roar of Akira's power as his body disintegrates under the constant assault.

When the light finally fades, all that remains is a charred patch of earth, lifeless, with wisps of smoke rising into the air.

What the boy unleashed in the heart of the city wasn't just violence, but an unchained storm—an eternity of massacre, etched into the minds of everyone who witnessed it.

No one had ever dared to unleash such a gruesome display of uncontrollable anger, not here, not on the streets of a crowded city like Seoul.

He didn't care.

Nothing mattered in the world around him nothing-the screams of terror, the gasps of onlookers, the chaos erupting in his wake.

Every step cracked the pavement, every breath trembled with pent-up anguish.

Fury had claimed him, guiding his every move as a cruel puppeteer.

This wasn't vengeance neatly carried out, nor with calm calculation.

This was raw, viscous, and relentless.

This was the eruption of a volcano, long dormant, whose immense rage consumed everything in sight.

And he Akira-this boy with eyes aglow white.

Lightning whipped and boomed around him, flashing from the storm within.

His blows weren't mere attacks but statements of hate, each one encapsulating an ache of loss, a furor of betrayal.

The air itself seemed to shrink before him, his form shimmering with the intensity of his power.

To the onlookers, there was no dividing line between wonder and terror.

Through all that, he did not waver.

Not a moment of hesitation, no second-guessing-no flush of regret crossing his face.

His was an expression chipped in stone, hard and unyielding.

This wasn't just a boy losing his temper.

This was a moment he had kept living for.

His body had become a canvas, painted with the wrath of a man, etched in lightning and blood. 

Every scream that escaped his lips was drowned by the deafening roar of thunder.

The people there had never seen anything like this.

STARS had fought monsters here before they'd clashed with criminals and beasts alike even most villains stop when their enemy is crushed like that but...

What the boy did now was a step beyond those—something darker, far more terrifying.

Because he didn't stop.

Not when the man begged.

Not when the bystanders cried for the man's mercy.

Not even when the man's body had turned to ash and the stench of burnt flesh still hung in the air like a grim reminder.

This wasn't justice.

This wasn't balance.

This was something darker—something born from the depths of his pain, his fury, his shattered soul.

And as Akira stood amidst the smoldering remains of his fury, his eyes dimming yet his expression unshaken, one truth became clear to all who watched

The once kind boy who had once been such and amazing human being was nowhere to be found.

What stood in his place was something far more dangerous.