The roar of a high-tech engine shattered the stillness, and Sabir’s head snapped up. At first, he couldn’t see anything but the arid landscape stretching around him, jagged rocks and dust swirling in the wind. Then, from the horizon, he saw it—a black streak cutting through the desert, sleek and fast, racing straight toward him. It was a motorcycle, but unlike any Sabir had ever seen. Its dark, futuristic frame glinted in the sun, moving effortlessly over the rugged terrain like a predator closing in on its prey.


    And riding it was Frederick.


    Sabir’s heart pounded, not just from the physical exhaustion of the earlier battle, but from the recognition of his pursuer. The man he needed to kill.


    Frederick


    As Frederick drew closer, his dark suit dirtied from travel, his cold, calculating eyes locked on Sabir with an intensity that made the air seem colder. He wasn’t here by accident. This was a hunt.


    For a moment, Sabir’s body froze, memories of pain and betrayal flooding his mind. But then his muscles tensed, instincts kicking in. He wouldn’t fall here, not without a fight. He watched as the bike roared toward him, Frederick steering with lethal precision, aiming to run him down.


    At the last possible second, Sabir dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the impact as Frederick whipped past him. The bike tore through the spot where Sabir had just stood, spraying dirt and rocks in its wake. But Frederick wasn’t giving up. With a sharp turn, he drifted the motorcycle, tires screeching against the earth as he spun back around to charge Sabir once more.


    Sabir scrambled to his feet, but before he could move, something grabbed him—an identical Frederick, appearing from the shadows, his grip iron-tight as he pinned Sabir in place.


    Sabir’s eyes widened in shock. “How?” He had no time to process. The Frederick on the bike sped toward him again, the roar of the engine growing louder, closing the distance with terrifying speed. The clone behind him held him down, stopping him from escaping. For a split second, Sabir’s mind raced. “This can’t be the end.”


    With a guttural cry, Sabir grabbed the clone by the arm, twisting with all his might. Using the clone’s own momentum against him, he flung the doppelg?nger towards what Sabir believed to be the real Frederick, who was barreling down on them. The clone slammed into Frederick just as the bike reached them, and the entire scene exploded in a flurry of metal and bodies.


    The bike careened off-course, crashing into the ground with a loud, metallic screech. Both Fredericks tumbled across the ground, but something strange happened—one of them flickered, like an image losing its connection. Sabir watched, stunned, as the clone faded, its body dissolving into nothingness. He couldn’t tell which Frederick had vanished, but it didn’t matter.


    Sabir took a step back, his mind piecing together with the truth. Clones. That was Frederick’s power. He could create replicas of himself, exact copies in every way. Sabir did not know what the limit was to this ability, but he knew one thing: the real Frederick was still standing.


    The remaining Frederick rose to his feet, dusting off his suit, though it was now torn and stained with dirt and oil. A long gash ran down his cheek, blood dripping steadily, but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, he smiled—a cruel, twisted grin that sent a shiver down Sabir’s spine. From inside his coat, Frederick pulled out a gleaming knife, its blade catching the light.


    “I got too excited,” Frederick muttered, licking the blood from his own wound as if savoring the taste. His eyes, dark and gleaming with malice, locked onto Sabir. “I should have killed you before those Pegasi got to you. Tch, you’re lucky there were so many people. My tracker was still useful.”


    Sabir looked at his neck and realised a small chip planted into his skin. He pulled it out, still panting from the exertion, dropping the tracker to the ground. He stared at him—then, to Frederick’s confusion, he laughed.


    It started as a low chuckle, then grew into something darker, almost maniacal. Sabir’s shoulders shook, his laughter reverberating across the empty wasteland. Frederick narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on the knife.


    “What’s so funny, Quinn?” Frederick spat, his voice cold. “You should beg for your life right now, not laugh.”


    Sabir’s laughter subsided, but the gleam in his eyes remained fierce. “Because you came to me. My sister’s murderer came to me.” His voice was low but filled with venom. “And now I can finally get my revenge.”


    Frederick’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. “Revenge?” he scoffed. “You think you can touch me? You’re nothing but a weakling, a waste of space. Revenge…that’s a joke.”


    But as Frederick spoke, he saw Sabir’s eyes—those golden eyes that burned with hatred and fury. For a split second, Frederick remembered the first time he had met Sabir, those same eyes staring up at him. Back then, Sabir had been helpless, but now.


    Now, they were out in the wastelands, where anything could happen.


    Frederick’s smirk faltered. He gripped his knife tighter, reaffirming his resolve. Sabir was dangerous. Even without Esper powers, even as a so-called dud, he could still bring chaos. And that was something the Voltaire family couldn’t afford.


    That’s why he was so adamant about killing him. Frederick had placed a tracker on Sabir as soon as they left the Sector 5. He waited patiently for his time to strike, but those Pegasi interfered. Instead of killing him, Sabir was still alive. In fact, he looked stronger—more alive.


    With a quick gesture, Frederick activated his Esper ability again. Around Sabir, the air shimmered, and more clones appeared. A dozen Fredericks, each one a perfect copy of the original, surrounded Sabir in a tightening circle. Their faces wore the same smug, confident expression, each one wielding a knife of their own.


    Sabir stood motionless, his eyes scanning the sea of Fredericks as they closed in on him. The desert wind howled around them, but Sabir didn’t flinch. His body was still, his mind focused, as if he were waiting for something, something that even Frederick couldn’t see.


    Frederick hesitated, watching Sabir with growing unease. There was something off, something different. Despite the overwhelming odds, despite being outnumbered, Sabir didn’t seem afraid. If anything, he looked…calm.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    “Why aren’t you running?” one of the Fredericks growled, stepping closer, his knife glinting dangerously. “Do you really think you stand a chance?”


    Sabir’s lips twitched into a smile. “You should have killed me when you had the chance, Frederick.”


    And with those words, Sabir moved.


    He lunged forward with a speed and ferocity that took Frederick by surprise. In an instant, Sabir had grabbed one clone, twisting its arm and using it as a shield as the other clones attacked. The clone yelped in pain as Sabir flung him into the others, creating a chaotic tangle of bodies.


    The real Frederick snarled, slashing with his knife, but Sabir dodged with fluid precision, his body moving like water. His movements were faster now, more controlled, as if something inside him had awakened.


    The clones attacked from all sides, but Sabir didn’t falter. He ducked and weaved, dodging their blades with ease, his hands moving faster than his mind could register. One by one, the clones fell, each one vanishing in a puff of smoke as Sabir cut through them.


    Frederick’s eyes widened in shock as his army of clones dwindled, their numbers quickly falling to a handful. “This shouldn’t be possible”, he thought. Sabir was unarmed, powerless. He was supposed to be weak.


    But that wasn’t even close to reality. Not anymore.


    The last clone lunged at Sabir, but Sabir grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with terrifying strength. The clone struggled, gasping for breath, but Sabir didn’t hesitate. With a single, brutal twist, he snapped the clone’s neck, its body crumpling to the ground before fading into nothingness.


    Frederick stood frozen, his knife trembling in his hand. For the first time in years, he felt a chill of fear run down his spine. Sabir turned to face him, his golden eyes glowing with something primal, something dangerous.


    “You wanted me dead,” Sabir said quietly, his voice carrying over the wind. “But I’m still standing.”


    Frederick swallowed hard, his bravado crumbling as he realized that this battle would not end the way he had planned.


    Frederick’s fingers twitched in frustration as he realized the boy, Sabir, was far stronger than he expected. No Esper powers, no elite training, and yet he had somehow withstood far more punishment than anyone else Frederick had faced. Physically superior, somehow, whilst being a dud, he thought with growing unease, his eyes narrowing as he evaluated the situation.


    Sabir stood panting, blood staining his clothes and arms trembling from exertion, yet his posture spoke of a readiness, a refusal to yield. Frederick sneered, but deep down, unease bubbled. “It seems I underestimated you,” he muttered. “But that ends now.”


    Without further delay, Frederick gathered every ounce of energy he had, his Esper power surging to its limits. In a blur, hundreds of clones materialized around Sabir, each a perfect replica of Frederick. Their identical expressions of cold amusement, their neatly pressed suits, and the sharp glint of the knives they brandished were terrifyingly real.


    Sabir cursed under his breath as the wave of Fredericks surrounded him on all sides. He could feel his muscles tighten, the weight of his situation bearing down on him as the sheer number of enemies made his stomach lurch. Hundreds? The odds were impossible. He was cornered.


    Before Sabir could form another thought, the attack began. The clones moved in unison, a deadly synchronization as they pounded him from all angles, fists, and blades tearing into his flesh. Pain shot through his body as he hit the ground hard, dirt and rocks grinding against his skin. He raised his arms instinctively to shield himself, but it was futile. Every time he blocked one blow, three more hit him from different directions. Blades sliced through his side and arms. Boots stomped into his ribs. The flurry of attacks kept coming with brutal precision.


    Gritting his teeth through the pain, Sabir knew he had to escape to avoid being torn apart. He kicked out, breaking through a gap in the assault. With a desperate push, he scrambled to his feet, finding an opening just wide enough to bolt.


    He ran.


    Frederick’s army of clones surged after him, their steps a thunderous echo on the barren terrain as they pursued their target relentlessly. Sabir could feel the weight of their presence, the pounding of feet behind him growing louder as the clones closed the distance. There were too many. His chest heaved with each breath, blood dripping from his wounds as he sprinted across the rocky ground.


    But as he ran, something changed.


    The chaos of his mind — the noise, the panic, the fear — slowed, ebbing away like a receding tide. His heart still thundered in his chest, but everything around him felt... slower. The wind’s howl, the scuffle of feet behind him, even his own breath seemed muted, as if time itself had stretched. Sabir’s vision sharpened, his senses heightened. He could feel the clones, sense them behind him. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know where they were, how far they were, how fast they were closing in.


    His mind cleared, and with clarity came understanding. Now, the clones spread out, their formation less tight as they gave chase. And in that spread, there was a weakness.


    Sabir’s steps slowed. He turned his head, gazing into the distance behind him, focusing on the indistinct figures of the clones that blurred together. A plan shaped in his mind, piecing together without conscious thought. It was as though his body, his instincts, were guiding him toward something. Something important.


    He stopped running.


    Instead, Sabir turned to face the oncoming wave of clones, his body still, his eyes closed. There was no fear, no hesitation. He felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. The ground trembled with the approaching footsteps, but Sabir didn’t move. He let his breathing slow, inhaling deeply.


    And then... he walked.


    The clones closed in, but Sabir moved as though in another world, his pace slow and deliberate. He measured each step, his feet gliding over the dirt with an almost eerie grace. His eyes remained shut, and yet he moved with a confidence he hadn’t felt before. As the first clone swung its knife, Sabir sidestepped with ease, the blade missing him by inches.


    He kept walking, his body twisting and turning, avoiding each attack without seeing them. Knives slashed at the air where he had just been, fists swung wildly, but found nothing. Frederick’s army lashed out with brutal intent, but Sabir remained untouched. He wasn’t sure how he was doing it—whether it was instinct or something else entirely—but the world felt alive around him, every detail clear in his mind.


    The closer the clones came, the easier it became. Sabir’s pace quickened. His steps became lighter, faster, until he was running straight into the army of Fredericks. His eyes snapped open, his focus zeroed in on a single target. He couldn’t explain it, but something told him this one... this one was different. The real Frederick.


    Sabir sprinted, weaving through the clones, the wind whistling past his ears. His body moved with a purpose, his mind locked on his target. And then, with a roar of determination, he struck.


    His fist connected with Frederick’s solar plexus in one brutal motion, the impact sending a shockwave of pain through the man’s body. Frederick’s eyes bulged, his mouth opened in a silent scream as he doubled over, gasping for air. The clones around them flickered, then vanished in an instant, leaving only the real Frederick crumpled on the ground.


    Sabir stood over him, his chest heaving, blood and sweat dripping down his face as he watched Frederick writhe in agony.


    Coughing and spitting blood, Frederick clawed at the ground, struggling to pull himself upright. His vision blurred, and the pain radiating from his core was unbearable. He wheezed, looking up at Sabir with wide, disbelieving eyes.


    “H-how...?” Frederick choked, his voice ragged. “How did you... know it was the real me?”


    Sabir looked down at him, his golden eyes burning with intensity, his voice calm.


    “Instinct.”