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Crawley was much more than just a high-ranking member of the Howlers; he was the foundation of their combat prowess. After leaving the professional world of the AFC, he had transitioned into the role of a master teacher. He hadn't just taught the rank-and-file members how to handle themselves in a street fight; he had specifically overseen the training of every Altered within the group, showing them how to harness their primal instincts alongside technical skill.As an AFC veteran, Crawley knew the nuances of battle better than almost anyone in Slough. However, the recent brutal conflict with the Lupus group had left the Howlers depleted. They had suffered heavy losses, and the remaining members were on edge. Because of this, Crawley had taken to the skies more frequently, circling the city like a watchful raptor. He had been observing the Burnham Food Street area when the commotion started, and his descent had been a thunderous declaration of war. His first and only instinct was to neutralize Marcus.
“I can tell immediately that you’re quite different from the others,” Marcus said, a small, weary smile playing on his lips as he stood his ground. He straightened his back, the air around him beginning to hum with suppressed Qi. “If that’s the case, then maybe, just maybe, you’re high enough in the food chain to actually listen to me. Can you take me to where Ga, ”
Marcus was cut off mid-sentence. Crawley didn't care for parley. He flared his massive wings, pointing the tips directly at Marcus. In a sudden, rhythmic blurring of motion, jet-black feathers began to shoot out like a volley of obsidian daggers.
Marcus reacted with the grace of a seasoned master. He shifted his hands in a blur, his palms catching and knocking away the projectiles. The feathers that missed him didn't just flutter; they slammed into the concrete with enough velocity to bury themselves halfway into the ground, standing upright like grave markers.
“To be able to block those with your bare hands?” Crawley muttered, his eyes narrowing in shock. He didn't wait for an answer. He dived forward again, wielding a giant feather-blade that shimmered with a metallic sheen. “Are you even human!”
The blade slashed through the air with a terrifying whistle. Marcus dodged the strike by a hair's breadth, watching as the feather-sword sliced into the asphalt. It didn't crunch or resist; it cut through the solid road as if it were soft butter.
“I’m a lot more human than you are right now!” Marcus countered. He launched himself forward, closing the distance to strike with a heavy fist.
His patience was officially at its end. If this winged teacher wouldn't listen to reason, Marcus would simply have to beat him into submission. He hoped that causing enough of a scene would draw out someone even higher in the hierarchy, perhaps Gary himself, and then he could finally explain the catastrophe facing the Dark Guild.
Before Marcus’s fist could connect with Crawley’s chest, one of the massive wings swept around like a shield. The impact was dull and heavy. Even Crawley, an experienced fighter, let out a sharp hiss of air as a jolt of genuine pain radiated through his wing.
‘Is he an Altered?’ Crawley wondered, his mind racing to categorize his opponent. ‘To be able to strike with that much force while in a human state... if he is an Altered, why isn't he transforming? Am I not pushing him hard enough?’
Crawley beat his wings, creating a gust of wind to force Marcus back. He stayed on the offensive, unleashing a relentless flurry of slashes with his blade. He wanted to keep Marcus under constant pressure, denying him the chance to breathe or counter. The sound of the blade cutting through the air was sharp and rhythmic, a deadly song that echoed through the shops.
Marcus dodged every attack with surgical precision. In some instances, he didn't just move; he redirected, using the palm of his hand to shove Crawley’s arm aside and disrupt his momentum.
‘This one really knows how to fight. He’s keeping me on my toes,’ Marcus thought. ‘I have enough energy to keep this up, but I have a feeling I might have to deal with a lot more Howlers very soon. It’s best to end this now.’
Marcus feinted a low sweep and then jumped, aiming a driving knee toward Crawley’s face. Crawley managed to get a hand up to block the knee, but the force was immense. Taking advantage of Marcus being mid-air, Crawley threw a heavy counter-punch that crashed into Marcus’s side.
Marcus let out a yelp of pain as he was sent tumbling back. He scrambled to his feet, putting some distance between them as he clutched his ribs. He was preparing for another exchange until he saw the sky go dark. Crawley was flapping his wings with a violent intensity, and thousands of black feathers began to spiral into the air.
The feathers didn't just fly; they surrounded Marcus’s entire body, creating a localized vortex. It was a tornado of obsidian blades, constantly closing in and striking from every conceivable angle.
“This attack is normally meant to suppress multiple targets at once,” Crawley shouted over the roar of the wind. “But when an opponent is this tough, I have to do what I must to bring them down.”
The feathers swirled faster and faster until Marcus was completely encased in a black dome of death. Those watching from the safety of the shops could no longer see him at all; they only saw the spinning, lethal tornado.
“It’s over for him. He’s done for,” one of the Howler members said, leaning against a wall with a sigh of relief. “It’s a shame Teacher Crawley had to get involved. We should have been able to handle it.”
“Right,” another agreed. “I wish the fight had lasted a bit longer so Teacher could have shown us more techniques. But once he uses that move, nobody comes out in one piece.”
“Wait... look at that.” One of the younger members pointed toward the center of the vortex. “When Teacher used this move before, I don't remember seeing... that.”
Deep inside the black tornado, bright blue sparks began to flicker. They grew in intensity, crackling with a sound like tearing silk. The sparks began to punch through the outer layer of the feathers, and seconds later, the entire vortex exploded outward. The wind was silenced by a deafening boom.
Standing in the center of the clearing, his clothes torn but his eyes glowing with an intense light, was Marcus. His forearms were completely covered in dancing arcs of blue lightning, the Qi manifesting as raw elemental power.
“Now,” Marcus said, his voice echoing with an unnatural authority. “Will you listen to me, or do I need to cause some real damage?”
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