Samuel surged forward like a thunderclap.

His body blurred into motion, closing the gap between him and Agent Jim with blinding speed. A flurry of strikes snapped into place—each punch a precise lock on Jim's thick muscle junctions: shoulders, elbows, core. Every blow snapped Jim's form out of alignment, preventing him from ever planting a solid attack stance.

He wasn't just attacking—he was disarming a war machine before it could load a single bullet.

"Level 2: Hell Martial Art—Break the Stance."

Samuel grinned inwardly.

"I've got him. He can't move."

For nearly two full minutes, the battlefield was one-sided. Jim couldn't reposition. He couldn't reset his form. His breathing turned ragged. Rage boiled beneath his skin.

"Warning. Opponent losing rationality. Aura spike detected. Rage threshold breach imminent."

Hell's Order's voice echoed, calm and cold.

Samuel didn't need a second warning.

A vibration swept through the air as Jim's aura exploded—dark, aggressive, primal. His muscle fibers swelled. Veins popped. His skin flushed with fury. It was like staring down a bellowing gorilla moments before it snapped its chains.

In a blur, Samuel shifted behind him. His arms snaked around Jim's massive torso—barely locking his grip together at the center.

Muscle met resistance.

Samuel's body trembled, fingers clawing inward as his grip tightened like steel wire.

Jim's roar echoed through the gym.

"ARRGHHH!!"

He thrashed with primal fury, his boots grinding into the mat, muscles erupting with strain. But Samuel's hold—fueled by Hell's Martial precision—refused to break.

Until it did.

With a violent jerk and thunderous grunt, Jim burst free.

He spun mid-air—his footwork honed by combat instinct—and launched his fist forward like a missile. The wind pressure alone whistled across the mat.

"200% force detected."

"Impact will be catastrophic."

Time slowed.

Samuel's body adjusted before his mind caught up—dodging sideways by a hair's breadth. The fist scraped air beside his cheek.

Then—pivot.

He caught Jim's bicep with one arm, shoulder with the other, and locked his legs beneath Jim's base.

In one fluid, breathtaking motion, Samuel lifted the massive agent off the ground, rotated his torso like a slingshot—and hurled Jim's colossal frame over his shoulder.

Boom.

Jim's body sailed through the air like a launched cannonball and crashed outside the ring in a crater of sweat and disbelief.

"9 minutes, 30 seconds. Agent Jim—out of bounds. Winner: Samuel," announced Agent Vick.

The gym went silent.

The entire room paused—staring.

Even the air held its breath.

Jim. The man they called a walking wall. The king of brute strength. Defeated. By a boy not 24 hours into his X-Division career.

From the floor, Jim blinked.

Then burst out laughing.

"Hah! Damn, that was amazing! We've gotta spar more often!"

Gone was the berserker. The old Jim—the happy giant—was back.

As Samuel stepped out of the ring, his voice calm, he added, "That was fun. But if you want a real fight… you'll want Danny next."

Jim turned. "What, he stronger than you?"

Samuel chuckled. "I'm more the spell-type. I'm a banisher and he the warrior class ."

Agents nearby leaned in, ears perking.

Jim's eyes sparkled like a child finding a secret boss level. "Then Danny, you're mine next time. How about we spar later in the evening"

He clapped a giant hand onto Danny's shoulder with enthusiasm.

The three laughed casually, unaware that the entire room had gone still again.

Around them, the agents exchanged glances—wide-eyed, half-smiling, half-fearful. Like students who'd just witnessed new gods casually joking after reshaping the laws of the battlefield.

Then—

"Agent Zack," Vick called out, slicing through the static with authority. "Step forward and draw."

As Zack moved toward the jar, Vick crossed his arms, the corner of his mouth curling into something unreadable.

"Well done, Samuel. You didn't disappoint me today. And Danny…" His gaze slid toward the other Hell Enforcer like a hunter waiting for the next storm.

"I can't wait to see your potential unleashed."

But he said nothing aloud.

Zack reached into the jar, unfolded the slip, and read with a nod:

"Agent Michael."

The two made their way to the sparring stage.

But not everyone was watching them.

Because something else was approaching.

Agent Black.

Her footsteps were silent.

She walked past the ring. Past Jim.

Right up to Danny and Samuel.

She stopped.

And stared.

Her obsidian eyes were void of emotion—yet sharp enough to slice tension into ribbons. Jim instinctively took a step back, his battle aura dampened into caution.

Then—

Time cracked.

Samuel's heart skipped. The sound in the gym vanished. All movement froze.

Reality… split.

Only the three of them remained in motion—Samuel, Danny, and Agent Black.

"Hell's Order?"

Silence.

System unavailable.

Danny's pulse thundered. "Should we fight? She's B-Class… can we even win?"

Samuel's breath slowed.

Think.

This is still inside X-Division… she won't kill us. Probably.

"I'll talk," he whispered. "Standby. If things go sideways, strike hard."

He took a step forward.

"What do you want, Agent Black?"

A slow smile broke across her porcelain face.

"So you're the ones who took down that proud little bitch, huh?"

"Who?" Samuel asked, wary.

"Zora," she said smoothly. "She escaped with half her power. Back when we fought? She and I were equals."

"But after I broke her… she became nothing. A shadow of her former self," she said, eyes unblinking. "I let her live because she stopped being fun."

Then she turned.

Steps calm. Back exposed.

"But you two…" she said without looking.

"If you want to stand against demons—get stronger. Or you'll be crushed like bugs underfoot."

And then—snap.

Like a light switch in a silent room.

Reality blinked back.

The gym was noisy again. The other agents sparring. No one had noticed a thing.

Samuel clenched his jaw.

"Hell's Order. Report."

Analysis complete.

Illusion-space confirmed. Time-space distortion triggered by Agent Black. Estimated threat level: A-Class. Abilities: Reality manipulation via localized field. Do not engage until sufficiently upgraded. Extreme-level threat.

Samuel and Danny exchanged glances.

"That illusion was real…" Danny whispered.

"And Queen… was stronger before we fought her, lucky us!" Samuel added.

They stood in silence.

Then—Danny grinned, eyes still fixed on where Agent Black had vanished.

"We need to get a lot stronger."

Samuel smirked, the adrenaline still humming under his skin.

"I can feel it… we've only scratched the surface of our potential."

Just then, Hell's Order crackled between them, its voice low and resonant like thunder echoing through a cathedral gate:

"Do not underestimate the power of Hell Enforcers.

We stand at the side of the King of Hell.

We rule the Underworld with iron order."

A silence followed—tense, sacred.

And for the first time, both boys understood.

This wasn't training anymore.

This was ascension.

To Be Continued.