Marcello looked down; the controller and visor had vanished from his hand just seconds prior. His arm now hung a shattered mess of bone and tendon, blood oozing through the fabric of his dark suit, dripping in strings on the dusty ground. The limb, though meant to be straight, contorted at an unnatural angle, surpassing the limits of human flexibility.

  Flying Banshee: Marcello spawns a remote-controlled airplane. Its wingspan is a foot long, and its length is eighteen inches. While using it, he must be completely stationary. If the plane is damaged, he will also receive damage equivalent. When activating the ability, a green visor appears over his eyes, and a controller appears in his hands. Flying Banshee cannot exceed fifteen meters from Marcello.

  It has an infinite amount of ammo and a rapid-fire rate, making its accuracy very low. Despite their small size, the bullets are powerful, being able to penetrate concrete.

  Biting back a scream, Marcello's free hand fumbled into his pocket, pulling out the half-wrapped chocolate brownie. The faint crackling of the saran wrap against his trembling fingers barely registered over the pounding in his ears. He tore into the treat without hesitation, not caring as bits of plastic clung to his lips. While the treat had adopted room temperature in his pocket, within his mouth, it reached perfection. The brownie, was gooey and sweet, each chew accompanied by a crackling sensation, Mitani's energy bursting like pop-rocks inside the chocolate.

  Almost instantly, Marcello felt the effects. A warmth spread from his core, crawling along his veins, soothing the sharp edges of his pain. The sound of his bones snapping back into place echoed grotesquely in the room.

  He looked at his left hand, opening and closing it several times. 'That's my one get-outta-jail-free card used. Thanks, Mitani.' Marcello got to his feet and stepped from behind a row of lockers. 'Even though I didn't get to figure out his ability, I now know he's very fast, strong, patient, and precise.'

  He sprinted up the basement stairs, each step echoing loudly in the narrow space. Bursting into the hallway, his eyes locked on Poatan, who stood in the dilapidated lobby. The man’s casual stance belied his readiness, a humorless smile creeping across his face as Marcello approached.

  “You showed up,” Poatan said, his voice rich with amusement.

  Like the surface of water, the glow from Marcello's energy rippled across the room.

  "There we go!" Screamed Poatan in excitement as his aura exploded outward with a loud boom. He kicked out toward a support beam, buckling it with one swift motion, bringing the decrepit ceiling above crashing down.

  Marcello spun, 'He completely deactivated his energy?' the falling debris and dust made it impossible to see more than a foot in front of him. He strained his eyes and ears.

  Poatan stopped in his tracks as a massive gust of air rushed through the room, instantly dispersing the dust.

  Marcello turned. Seeing Poatan's surprised face, he pointed his fist toward him. The orange rock on his finger glowed brightly as the room's temperature rose rapidly.

  Poatan braced himself as a miniature sun erupted before him, engulfing his body in blinding light and searing flames. Inside his shell, he smiled, the realization that if he weren't as swift as he was, his eyes would've melted out of his head. Even though he was surrounded, it was still scorching.

  Marcello's energy faltered as he looked on. The inferno dispersed as Poatan walked forward. Smoldering pieces of rock crumbled from his body as he did so, reabsorbing themselves back into his aura. His designer shirt hung loosely around him, and with one swift movement, he ripped it away, revealing a heavily tatted body.

  Poatan charged forward. Rock started to form tightly around his fists.

  Marcello was only able to remove one ring before having to dodge a punch from Poatan, who slapped away Marcello's left arm, jamming his fist into his ribs.

  Marcello gasped. The jagged rock protruding from Poatan's fist scrapped against his side.

  "You ain't got no hands, bruh!" Poatan taunted as he continued pummeling Marcello.

  A massive gust of wind flowed through the room, launching Marcello back several yards.

  "Oh," he moved closer, watching Marcello quickly remove two more of his plain rings.

  Poatan, known as 'the stone man' or 'the pillar.' Poatan had extensive knowledge of rock and minerals as from the ages of eight to sixteen, everyday he slaved away in a rock mine. After escaping, he focused the entirety of his training on perfecting the attunement with the material. Of the five paths of energy, Manifestation, Manipulation, Alteration, Oddity, and Enhancement, he felt himself moved toward Manifestation. Most who go down that path concentrate on conjuring functional objects with shape. Poatan had reached the point where he had permanently blurred the line between his manifested and regular energy. Utilizing his past and talents, he is now using those skills to one day become a jeweler and own a store in the diamond district in New York.

  Even when he doesn't have his energy activated, a thin layer of stone is constantly building up over his skin. If Poatan doesn't move for a while, he will resemble a statue. Every day, he wakes up in the morning by shattering a stone shell from the inside.

  He can only bring the effect to his full potential when he enters an energy state of purpose. Stone plates will form from his skin. The thickness is contingent on how much energy he allocates to this process; the placement of the scales isn't arbitrary, as he ensures they won't hinder his movements.

  Marcello hit him with another powerful blast of air directly to the chest. Even though he couldn't see it, Marcello could feel the golden grin plastered across Poatan's face.

  Poatan can shape his energy's aura and create a rock mass by combining his ability with the energy path of alteration. Despite it being solid, he can move it like a fluid, shaping it according to his whims. Because the stone manifests where it goes and is unconjured when it leaves, Poatan can move it as if it were fluid. He can recover most of his energy that went into manifestation by reabsorbing the conjured rock into his body, but physical touch is required.

  Marcello removed his sixth ring.

  Poatan's radiant aura spilled across the floor like a flood of liquid sapphire, illuminating the crumbling remnants of the consulate. The glow reflected on the ground, giving it the appearance of a radiant dance floor. From his energy, jagged spires erupted in rapid succession, their razor-sharp edges grazing Marcello's shirt as he twisted midair to avoid them. The spires shimmered momentarily, then crumbled into dust, the energy flowing seamlessly back into Poatan as he sprinted over it, turning it into pillars under his feet and a sharp, short, jagged rock-knife.

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  Marcello, reacting in an instant, spun and landed a devastating blow, sending Poatan hurtling through the nearest wall. The force of the impact shook the building, sending shards of stone and dust cascading around him. Poatan’s body crashed into the overgrown gardens outside, scattering thorned rose bushes as he tumbled to a stop.

  "What the-" Poatan sputtered, spitting out leaves and thorns, lifting his head from the rosebush. He glared at Marcello, who watched him from the gaping hole in the consulate.

  A pause. The soothing hum of bugs and the rhythmic splashes of fish in a nearby manmade lake, their sounds weaving through the vandalized garden, mixing with the drone of their energy, made for a surreal symphony.

  Marcello’s gaze flicked to the ground, noticing the remnants of Poatan’s rock knife and pillars still embedded in the consulate floor. His expression hardened as he dropped from the ledge, landing silently beyond the ring of bushes that encased the building.

  When he looked up, he saw Poatan standing among the debris, his eyes fixed on a long, sword-like sculpture of rock cradled in his hands. The weight of the weapon required him to wield it with both hands, its jagged edges reflecting the faint moonlight filtering through the broken trees.

  With a grunt of effort, Poatan thrust the sword’s pointed tip into the ground. The earth trembled beneath them as he pulled his arm back, his palm glowing faintly as a mass of stone began to form. The energy coalesced, growing into a boulder that seemed impossibly dense.

  With a roar of effort, Poatan heaved the massive boulder toward Marcello. The projectile tore through the air, uprooting plants and shattering garden fixtures as it hurtled forward.

  Marcello froze for a split second, his mind racing. The boulder dominated his vision, growing larger with every heartbeat. In that pivotal second, the recollection dawned upon him—he had already removed his air ring.

  Punch or run. 'Punch or run.' The thought seemed to loop endlessly as he stared wide-eyed at the boulder moving closer. 'Too late,' With a guttural grunt, Marcello planted his feet and swung with everything he had.

  From behind the massive boulder, Poatan ripped his weapon from the ground and began to march forward. His eyes narrowed as the dust began to settle, obscuring his view of Marcello. The boulder was so massive it blocked any sight of his opponent, but he pressed on, his steps deliberate and heavy.

  Marcello dropped to one knee, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, feeling as if a blood vessel had burst in his eye. His vision dimmed, stars flashing before him. Blinking, he attempted to focus on something—anything! Moving his hands? His left was fine, but his right didn't move. It hurt, but it wasn't excruciating. A sharp, piercing pain radiated from his forearm, and Marcello’s gaze snapped downward. His right hand was buried deep into the boulder, his forearm locked in its unyielding grip. Gritting his teeth, he grunted, tugging desperately to free himself. “Dammit…”

  The boulder flowed around Poatan as he charged forward, stabbing his spire through the rock. As he moved forward, he saw the blurry figure of Marcello. The rock-sword's tip dug itself into the side of the consulate. Missing him.

  The boulder began to disintegrate as Poatan absorbed its remnants back into his aura, along with the sword. In its place, thick stone plating began forming across his chest and arms, attempting to protect himself in time.

  Marcello moved, his body twisting low to the ground as he flung himself forward. He hit Poatan square in the stomach, his momentum sending the larger man hurtling backward. Poatan crashed onto the stone path, skidding several yards before coming to a stop—no longer able to absorb what was left of his massive boulder and sword.

  The shattered stone plating on Poatan’s chest crumbled away absorbing back into his aura as he groaned, slowly rising to his feet. Sweat dripped from his brow as he wiped his face with a shaky hand. “How— Okay,” he muttered, his voice heavy with disbelief. A wide, gold-toothed grin spread across his face, though one of his front teeth was conspicuously missing.

  Marcello stood calmly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know why you’re smiling,” he said flatly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You just lost.”

  'The fuck?' Poatan's mind raced, thinking back to everything that had just happened. He looked down at himself, making sure he didn't have some gaping hole in his chest that he somehow didn't notice. 'What is he talking about? Don't tell me this dude's got some other energy ability,' he thought.

  Marcello’s eyes tracked Poatan’s movements, noting the subtle glance toward the shattered remains of his boulder. “Trying to figure out how to get your energy back?” he asked.

  "What did you do?" Poatan squinted suspiciously, moving to circle Marcello like a lion sizing up its prey.

  "Nothing yet," Marcello admitted. "But I'm telling you right now that if you have some other ability, use it now because you won't have a chance to in a few minutes." He began fidgeting with his rings on his fingers, not even looking at Poatan, who warily approached him.

  "You really like to hear yourself talk, huh?"

  Marcello tilted his head slightly, his smirk faint but visible, 'Oh? He's still got something?' he thought, bracing himself.

  "Fine then," Poatan stopped, taking a deep breath. Calming his body, mind, and energy.

  Marcello watched and glanced over, somewhat amused at what he was seeing.

  Poatan stopped in his tracks, his breathing steadying as he closed his eyes. His aura pulsed faintly, shifting and shimmering with a new intensity. The small minerals embedded in his skin seemed to glimmer, their crystalline forms catching the faint light. He focused, visualizing the five main branches of energy, and leaned into the path of Alteration.

  Shards of jade began to grow from his body, spreading across his arms and chest in intricate, gleaming patterns. He opened his eyes, now burning with renewed determination, and took a step forward. 'After a lot of concentration, I was able to crystalize my aura turning it to a much more durable material than stone. Jade, a green, slightly translucent mineral with comparable density but remarkable durability. Unlike the deceptive toughness of diamonds, this entails top-tier resistance to cracking, slicing, and blunt force. This resilience is attributed to the disordered crystal structure, which doesn't allow cracks to spread through the material as much as other minerals.'

  He blinked the sweat from his eyes, and pointed a heavy hand toward the boy. "Keep talkin' shit! Why ain't you speaking?"

  The jade shards on his knuckles shifted, coalescing into a razor-sharp projectile. With a sudden motion, he launched the shard, the air hissing as it tore toward Marcello.