Dante's vision blurred as he forced himself up, the acrid scent of burning metal and ozone thick in the air. His limbs trembled, every muscle screaming from exertion and the raw energy still crackling beneath his skin. Around him, the ruins of the warehouse groaned—a ruined cathedral of shattered concrete and twisted steel.
Samson was howling now, a wild, unhinged scream cutting through the chaos like a blade. Electric arcs danced uncontrollably over his body, burning bright green and yellow as they licked at the air and seared everything in their path. Sparks erupted from his skin, blistering like molten lava, melting through metal girders and cracking the concrete floor beneath his feet.
He staggered forward, each step a battle to contain the volatile storm inside him. His muscles twitched with the effort of holding back the electrical fury threatening to tear him apart. The air shimmered around him with raw energy.
Pulse blasted another shockwave at Samson, hoping to slow the raging torrent, but it was useless. Samson took the hit like a battering ram, his form convulsing and swelling, distorted by unstable power leaking from every pore.
"Stop... make it STOP!!" Samson screamed, voice ragged and desperate.
The world tilted for a moment as the intensity of the storm grew. Samson's eyes burned with a wild light, the very air vibrating with his agony.
Then, he turned. Slowly. His gaze locked on Pulse.
"No," Dante said, voice low and steady as he stepped forward from the shadows. "You want me."
He didn't hesitate. He thrust his hands out, palms open like a conduit ready to catch lightning itself.
Energy flared to life—his energy. It wasn't just electricity this time. It was something deeper. The memory of it, refined by every battle, every spark that had coursed through his veins. It was sharper and smarter. Familiar, but evolved.
This time, Dante welcomed it.
Electricity wrapped around his arms and legs like living armour, dancing and crackling in brilliant blue and white arcs. It flowed into his muscles and nerves, filling him with a new kind of power, syncing perfectly with his heartbeat.
[ELECTRIC ADAPTATION: ACTIVE]
FORM TYPE: CURRENT STRIDE
His body glowed, veins illuminated by surging currents. Faster. Sharper. Dante wasn't just copying the electricity anymore—he had become it.
Without hesitation, he blitzed forward.
In a blur of motion, Dante was on Samson, dodging the wild, erratic swings that shattered the air with thunderous cracks. He leapt off splintered debris, landing with catlike grace and precision. His fists, alive with shocking energy, struck into Samson's key pressure points—wrists, temples, and chest—each impact syphoning off the dangerous energy like a conductor drawing power from a storm.
Samson's spasms slowed, his body responding not with meltdown but with fragile relief.
Dante felt the shift—the raw chaos within Samson's core beginning to stabilize.
Samson swung again, slower this time, the rage dimming in his eyes.
Dante ducked under the arc of an electrified fist, wrapping his arms tight around Samson's torso. He discharged a surge of concentrated current into the man's core, electricity humming like a gentle pulse.
"Breathe!" Dante shouted, voice fierce but compassionate. "You're not a monster. You're just lost."
Samson's scream tore through the night—a painful, raw sound, as if every nerve was firing at once.
Then—silence.
Samson collapsed, the violent storm inside him finally spent.
Smoke curled from his back, the last sparks of stolen energy fizzing out like dying embers.
Dante dropped beside him, chest heaving, muscles trembling but alive with the aftershocks of power.
His comm crackled.
"Stand down. Team en route." Voss's voice was sharp and clipped.
Dante ignored it.
His gaze locked on Samson, whose eyelids fluttered open, the wild energy in his eyes replaced by something fragile—human.
"You okay?" Dante asked softly, brushing soot and sweat from Samson's face.
Samson blinked, confusion mingling with relief. "Still... me?"
Dante nodded. "Yeah. Still you."
Pulse approached, lowering his hands cautiously. "You absorbed it back. Controlled it."
Dante slowly rose, the electric armour fading as his body cooled, breath steadying. "Not just control. I learned how to make it mine."
The gamma storm—the uncontrollable fury that had consumed Samson—was gone. But something new remained in its place. Something Dante could feel deep in his bones.
He'd tasted his true potential tonight.
Not just a copy. Not just mimicry.
He could transform.
—
Minutes later, Voss arrived on the scene, her tactical team stepping carefully through the wreckage. Her eyes narrowed as they landed on Dante, standing amid the rubble with Samson slumped on the ground beside him.
"You disobeyed orders," she said coldly, her voice cutting through the hum of settling debris. "You were told to stand down."
Dante met her gaze, unwavering, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on him but never breaking his resolve.
"If I had, he'd be dead," Dante said quietly but firmly.
The silence stretched between them, thick and charged.
Then—unexpectedly—Voss's expression softened. She nodded once.
"Then you made the right call."
She turned and walked past him without another word.
Dante noticed her lips twitch—the ghost of a smile.
—
Later, alone in the ruined warehouse, Dante crouched beside Samson. The man's breathing was shallow but steady now.
"Why didn't you stop?" Samson asked hoarsely, eyes struggling to focus on Dante's face.
Dante exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing faint burn marks along his arm. "Because sometimes, the fight isn't about winning or losing. It's about finding the part of you that's still human. The part that's worth saving."
Samson's gaze faltered, pain flickering behind it. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
"I know," Dante said. "That energy inside you—it's a curse. But it doesn't have to define you."
A long pause.
Outside, the city lights flickered, oblivious to the battles fought in shadows beneath them.
Dante stood, offering Samson a hand. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere safe."
Samson took it, his grip weak but real.
As they left the ruined warehouse behind, Dante felt something else stirring—a new confidence, a deeper understanding of his power.
He hadn't just survived the storm.
He'd mastered it.
And now, nothing could hold him back.