This is a work of fantasy fiction intended for entertainment purposes
only. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Please note that Fated Strike may contain sexually suggestive content
between consenting characters. If that's not your preference, I
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Chapter Seven: The Protector
As Malik and Jinwoo neared the dorms, Malik felt tension spike inside his friend. It started as a low hum but quickly grew, laced with traces of fear. Malik's steps slowed, his senses heightened, and he picked up on something else lurking nearby--malice. Something ugly and sharp, like a chill in the air, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Moments later, he spotted them: a group of three guys watching Jin with an unsettling intensity.
One of the guys stepped forward, his presence dominating the group. He looked like a typical 'Chad'--tall, with a smug expression and an overconfident stance. "Hey, Jinhoe!" he called, his voice dripping with mockery. "Had me worried when you didn't come home last night."
Malik saw Jin's back stiffen, catching the flicker of panic in his eyes before a flash of defiance replaced it. Putting on a brave face, Malik realized. Jin met the guy's stare, his voice cold and steady. "It's Jinwoo. James, you should know a hoe from experience with how loud your girlfriend's pussy claps when she walks. Maybe if you were a bigger man, she wouldn't need to go around."
A dark shadow crossed James's face as he clenched his jaw, his voice low and menacing. "You'll regret saying that." He motioned to his friends. "Hold him down, boys. Looks like our message didn't get through last night. Time for a little reminder."
As the guys moved to grab Jin, Malik stepped closer, feeling anger begin to boil inside him. A strange sensation washed over him--like a cloak that he could pull around his own emotions, dulling them and masking his intentions. He felt invisible in a way, hidden from the group's perception. Experimenting, he adjusted the "cloak," trying to keep his emotions from spilling out. Sure enough, one of the guys glanced his way but quickly dismissed him, barely registering his presence.
James, still looming over Jin, pulled back his fist to deliver a punch. But before he could strike, Malik lunged forward, catching James's fist mid-air. The force rippled through Malik's hand, and James looked at him, struggling to focus on the person suddenly standing in his way.
"Who the hell are you?" James spat, his voice strained with confusion. "This doesn't concern you."
"Yeah, you're right," Malik said, letting go of James's hand with a calm smile. James looked away for a moment, readying another punch, and Malik caught it again, holding firm.
James's eyes narrowed, his expression clouded with frustration. Malik dropped the cloak, allowing his emotions to sharpen, to cut through the haze surrounding the bullies. Suddenly, the three guys turned, realizing Malik was there to defend Jin.
James sneered. "What are you supposed to be? Superqueer, here to save this fag?"
The other guys snickered, joining in, but Malik didn't waver. He leaned in close, his voice low and steady. "This isn't going to be a fight. Maybe you should walk away."
James ignored him, attempting to sucker-punch Malik, but Malik sidestepped effortlessly, dodging the blow. Using James's own momentum, Malik shoved him to the side, causing him to stumble and fall hard against the concrete, scraping his hands and knees.
The two other guys released Jin, their attention now fully on Malik. One aimed a punch at his jaw from the left while the other raised his leg to knee Malik in the ribs. Meanwhile, James charged forward, attempting to tackle him. Malik's mind slowed, his senses sharp. Each movement of theirs seemed to stretch out in perfect clarity.
He stepped back, causing the knee to miss, and the punch to land on the kicker's face instead. Then, with a powerful kick, he sent the two stumbling into the oncoming James, causing all three to collapse in a painful pile on the ground.
Malik didn't waste a second. He went on the offensive, landing deliberate blows, each one calculated to match the bruises and injuries he'd seen on Jin. For every mark on Jin's body, Malik returned one in kind--a black eye, a busted lip, bruises blooming on their necks and ribs.
By the time he finished, the trio was begging for mercy, their voices weak and pitiful. Malik knelt down, meeting their frightened gazes, and reached deep, amplifying their fear until it filled the air around them like a thick fog.
"If any of you so much as lay a finger on Jinwoo, or anyone else, I'll make you pay double. For every arm you break, I'll break two. For every tear he sheds, you'll cry just as many nights. Do you understand me?"
The guys whimpered, too scared to respond properly, their fear thick and real. Malik turned to Jin, his voice softer. "Give me your phone."
Jin, still wide-eyed in shock, quickly handed his phone over. Malik typed in his own number, pressing dial to ring his cell. He handed it back, his gaze steady. "If one of these guys so much as looks at you wrong, I want to know about it. You call or text me. Got it?"
Jin nodded, his voice a murmur. "Yeah... got it."
Malik glanced back at the three bullies, still sprawled on the ground. "And I'll be expecting a call or text from him every day. If I don't hear from him, I'll look for him, starting by paying you three a visit."
With that, he straightened, gave one last look to the group of defeated bullies, and turned, starting to jog away in the direction of Dre's place. His mind buzzed with adrenaline, a heady rush of power humming through him. He couldn't wait to tell Dre--his abilities had definitely evolved.