047 Trashy Trio - Part 4 - Karl’s POV

  The Pioneer Cssroom wasn’t big on windows.

  It wasn’t big on much, really. No decorations, no distractions—just desks, walls, and the faint hum of the air conditioning. Functional. Efficient. Cold.

  This pce was different.

  The cssroom where my old man actually taught had a window, wide enough to let in sunlight, but the way he moved—calmly shutting it, sealing us both inside—made it feel just as closed-off as the Pioneer Cssroom ever was.

  I leaned against a desk, arms crossed, my jaw tight. My knuckles still ached from earlier, from throwing the first punch, from throwing so many punches. But Carl Brandt stood there like none of it mattered. Like I hadn't just tried to burn him alive in front of a room full of second-years.

  “What’s my old man thinking?” I muttered, more to myself than him.

  He gnced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. Then, in that calm, measured voice of his, he asked, “Are you happy, Karl?”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Being like this,” he said. “Always angry.”

  I let out a sharp, humorless ugh. “What the fuck kind of question is that?”

  He didn’t answer right away. He just turned back to the window and finished closing it, slow and deliberate. As if the air outside was some kind of problem.

  “I used to be like you,” he said.

  I felt my lip curl. “Oh yeah? You used to want to punch your dad in the face too?”

  His hands rested on the window frame for a second longer before he turned back to face me. “Yes.”

  There was something in his eyes—something I didn’t like. A quiet weight, like he wasn’t just saying it for the sake of it.

  He exhaled through his nose. “How’s school been for you?”

  I stared at him. “Why do you care?”

  He met my gaze, unwavering. “Because you’re my son.”

  I scoffed, but there was something ugly twisting in my chest.

  “And because I’ve been here before,” he continued. “Where you are now. Angry. Pissed at my parents. Thinking no one was on my side. That it was just easier to throw a punch than to—”

  “Shut up.”

  My fmes surged to life before I could stop them, crawling up my arms, bathing the cssroom in flickering orange light. The heat pulsed with my breathing, hot and alive, ready to burn.

  “If you really want to talk,” I said, voice low, “then let’s talk with our fists.”

  “Follow me.”

  That was all he said before turning his back on us, expecting us to just fall in line. Like always.

  I wasn’t about to just let that happen.

  I lunged forward, closing the distance between us in an instant. My fist was already bzing, heat rippling off my knuckles as I swung at the back of his head.

  A clean shot. No way he could—

  Snap.

  Pain shot through my wrist as his fingers closed around my fist like an iron vice. He didn’t even look back.

  I gritted my teeth, pushing more heat into my fmes, but his grip didn’t loosen. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, voice maddeningly calm.

  “You’ll need more than technique, brute power, or talent if you ever want to measure up to me.”

  Then, without warning—

  Wham.

  His leg swept mine out from under me.

  I barely had time to register the shift in bance before my back smmed onto the cold floor. My breath hitched. The world tilted.

  By the time I managed to suck in air, he had already let go of my fist and was walking away. Walking away.

  “Come on,” he said, not even looking back. “Follow.”

  I hated him.

  Hated the way he was always five steps ahead. Hated how effortless it was for him to put me down.

  A hand extended into my vision.

  Mirai.

  I grumbled under my breath, but I took it, letting her pull me up. I dusted myself off and gred at my old man’s back. Reluctantly, I followed.

  “You no longer need to be here,” I muttered to Mirai as we walked. “Our deal still works even if you don’t actually fight now.”

  I expected her to roll her eyes. What I didn’t expect was for her to suddenly pinch my ear and drag me forward.

  “Agh—!” I stumbled, swatting at her hand. “Ow! Ouch! Let go, you bitch!”

  Mirai didn’t even flinch. She kept walking, dragging me along like a misbehaving kid.

  “I came here for a fight,” she said, voice sharp. “And what do I get? Nothing. No fight, no action, just you getting smmed into the floor like a dumbass.”

  I tried prying her fingers off my ear, but she tightened her grip.

  “Tch—!”

  “I’m already bummed out that I’m being sidelined,” she continued, tone ced with irritation. “So you better pick your shit up or I’ll kill you myself.”

  Then—finally—she let go.

  I rubbed my ear, scowling. “Crazy psycho…”

  Dad chuckled ahead of us. “You have a nice girlfriend.”

  Mirai immediately stiffened. “I’m not.”

  I snorted, shoving my hands into my pockets. “She already has someone.”

  Mirai let out a deep sigh. “That was a misunderstanding.”

  Dad shrugged, completely unbothered. “Youths nowadays should be more bold.”

  My father wasn’t looking.

  His back was turned, his posture loose, like none of this mattered. Like I wasn’t standing behind him, fists clenched, rage simmering beneath my skin.

  So I threw a punch. A tight hook aimed straight for his temple. A clean shot.

  And then—

  Pain exploded across my face.

  I barely registered what happened before I stumbled back, clutching my nose. The bastard had moved too suddenly, his elbow smming into my face like he had eyes in the back of his head.

  Dad ughed.

  “Rule number one of fighting, Karl,” he said, shaking his head. “Never turn your back to an enemy.”

  Mirai, who had been watching silently, stiffened. “Your back was turned.”

  Dad smirked. “Was it?”

  I gritted my teeth, my breath coming out sharp. He was toying with me.

  “You should never present your back to a hostile,” he continued, as if he were giving a damn lecture. “Unless, of course, you have a method to fake it and can actually see them even when not looking.”

  My fmes fred instinctively, but he had already turned away, walking forward.

  I hated that. I hated how he dismissed me. How effortlessly he made me feel like a kid throwing a tantrum.

  We left the cssroom and entered a facility that looked eerily familiar—like the training grounds in Bck Tortoise, the ones designed for sparring and survival drills. The floors were reinforced, the walls thick enough to take a few explosions.

  Dad stepped ahead of us, exhaling as he kicked off his shoes. Then, stretching his arms over his head, he let out a yawn.

  “Alright,” he said. “Here’s the deal.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “I’ll give you an opportunity of a lifetime,” he continued, rolling his shoulders. “You want to talk to me with your fists? Fine. Let’s make it a match.”

  I clenched my fists, ignoring the dull ache from earlier. “What’s the catch?”

  He smirked. “There need to be stakes. Otherwise, this is just another pointless brawl.”

  I didn’t like that look on his face. The one that said he had already pnned this.

  “If I win—say, I knock you out—” his smirk widened, “I’ll pull you out of the academy and put you in a collegiate program instead.”

  My body went rigid.

  I hated school, but I despised the idea of being pulled from the academy. That wasn’t just a punishment. That was exile.

  “That’s unfair,” Mirai said immediately.

  “Okay, to be fair, what do you want, Karl?” Dad ignored her. He turned to me, expectant. “What’s in it for you, then? Do you want daddy to give you a kiss? A smooch?”

  I took a deep breath. The words had been buried in my throat for so long, but now they surged forward like fire through dry wood.

  “You let me kill the bastards responsible for what happened ten years ago.” My voice was sharp, seething. “The ones who crippled my sister.”

  The amusement in his expression vanished.

  “No,” he said ftly. “That’s criminal.”

  I sneered. “And?”

  “I’m not letting my son do something so stupid.” His voice was steady, unshaken. “Revenge isn’t going to—”

  “So you’d hold me back?” I snapped. My fmes fred again, this time in sharp, jagged bursts. “You’d coddle me? Lie to me? Pretend like everything’s okay?”

  His expression didn’t change.

  “What? You won’t fight me?” I took a step forward. “Does your word mean nothing?”

  Dad exhaled, shaking his head. “So you think I’m chickening out?” He scoffed. “No, Karl. The match is on.”

  My blood pounded in my ears as he cracked his knuckles.

  “It just means I’ll be fighting you for real, kid. Kiddie gloves off.” His gaze flicked to Mirai. “The missy’s free to join too. I’m fair like that.” His smirk sharpened. “Or as fair as I can get, because get this, Karl—you are outmatched.”

  I clenched my jaw as my fmes burned hotter.

  Dad kept going. “If I have to knock some sense into you via violence, then so be it. I’ve coddled you long enough.”

  I didn’t wait. I lunged.

  Fmes burst from my feet, igniting the air as I propelled forward. Every step was an explosion, every stride fueled by combustion. My body felt lighter, faster—stronger.

  I fnked Dad in an instant, my fist burning hotter than ever. The heat rippled through the air, distorting the space between us. This time, I wouldn’t miss.

  And then—

  Boom.

  An orb of fire appeared between us, as if willed into existence.

  It detonated before I could react.

  The force threw me back, my world flipping as heat and shockwaves bsted through the air. I crashed against the ground, rolling to a stop as smoke and dust billowed around me.

  I couldn’t see a damn thing.

  But Dad could see me.

  I barely had time to register the incoming attack before spears of fme rained from above, their eerie glow piercing through the smoke.

  I dodged left—one burned past my shoulder.

  I rolled right—another seared across my leg.

  No matter how I moved, the fmes followed. They weren’t strong enough to kill me or impale me outright, but they were hot—too hot.

  I could feel my body overheating. My breaths came out ragged, dry. My fmes sputtered in response.

  Shit.

  I tried to gather my strength, to force my body into motion—

  Then someone tackled me.

  A pair of arms wrapped around my torso, and before I could process what was happening, I was rolling.

  A second ter, a fming spear twice the size of the others smmed into the ground where I had just been. The impact sent out a scorching shockwave, scorching the earth bck.

  Mirai’s voice snapped me back to reality.

  “Karl, get your shit together!”

  I turned my head, still dazed. She was gripping my wrist tightly, her expression sharp but strained.

  “Conserve your damn energy,” she said, yanking me up to my feet. “You’re burning yourself out.”

  I swallowed hard, my throat dry as hell. I hated to admit it, but she was right.

  Mirai offered her hand. “Hold on. I’ll lead the way.”

  I hesitated—just for a second—before grabbing her hand.

  The moment I did, she took off.

  She zigzagged through the battlefield, dragging me along as the fming spears kept coming. She barely avoided them, her every step skimming the edge of a fiery death.

  And she was cussing the entire time.

  “Fucking—shit—old bastard—how the hell is this fair?!”

  Another spear nearly clipped her.

  Mirai yelped, then hissed under her breath. “I swear to god, Karl—if you don’t get your head in the game, I will kill you myself.”

  Despite everything, I felt a ugh bubble up in my throat.

  The dust finally began to settle.

  My breathing was ragged, my body aching from the heat still clinging to my skin. The air reeked of scorched earth and burning embers. I clenched my fists, scanning the battlefield.

  Where the hell was he?

  Then—

  “Above.”

  Mirai’s foot smmed into my side, shoving me away.

  A bzing impact followed immediately after.

  Dad nded where I had been standing, his feet igniting the ground on contact. The explosion was instant—the force sent shockwaves through the air, the very earth charring beneath him.

  I gritted my teeth, my fmes flickering erratically.

  “Get your shit together!” Mirai yelled, snapping me out of it. “You’re being too emotional!”

  “Fuck emotional!” I snarled.

  I drew in every ember, every flickering wisp of heat left in me. Fmes coiled toward my palm, compressing into a single, unstable orb.

  This was it.

  A technique I’d only seen once. A technique Dad had shown me years ago.

  A miniature sun.

  It bzed in my grip, searing hot enough to distort the air around it. The power surged through me, the weight of it immense.

  I raised it high—

  “Supernova!”

  I crushed it.

  Or at least—I tried.

  Before the explosion could ignite, before the power could detonate in my favor—

  Dad caught it.

  With a single flick of his wrist, he snuffed it out.

  The energy I had poured everything into? Gone. Like it was nothing.

  I stared, stunned. My breath caught in my throat.

  Dad sighed. “Boy, that’s still too early for you.”

  I didn’t even have time to react before—SLAP.

  The sting of his hand across my face sent my head snapping sideways.

  “Wake up, son.” His voice was firm. Unshaken. Cold.

  “This is reality.”

  I clenched my fists, the heat in me boiling over.

  “You want to kill those bastards?” Dad asked, his eyes sharp. “The ones responsible for your sister?”

  His gaze bored into me, like he could see straight through my rage.

  “Then listen well—”

  He took a step forward, towering over me.

  “The people you want to kill? They’re true ESPers.” His voice was absolute. “And they’d be just as strong as me.”

  He paused.

  “If not, stronger.”

  His words hit like a gut punch. A cold, unforgiving reality settling into my bones.

  Stronger than him?

  I refused to accept that.

  Dad had to be lying…

  After all, he used to be called the strongest ESPer.