A few minutes after John had passed out, the room filled with a surge of energy that seemed to defy gravity. Grandma and grandpa felt the weightlessness take hold of them, their bodies tingling with anticipation. With a startled gasp, grandma was lifted off the ground, soaring through the air. Meanwhile, grandpa stood with his arms crossed, as if he had been waiting for this very moment.
John lay motionless on the ground, releasing intense energy in waves. Slowly, he began to regain consciousness, his head throbbing with pain. As he struggled to sit up, his voice trembled, uttering a few words, "ma... pa," before passing out again.
Grandpa, realizing the urgency of the situation, quickly placed his hands on John's body, attempting to transfer some energy to revive him. Concern etched on her face, grandma voiced her worry, "Should you really be using your powers? They could come for you."
Grandpa's voice betrayed a sense of urgency as he replied, "Does it really matter? They would have already sensed his powers and be on their way. The best we can do is move out for a while. We don't have much time." His agitation was palpable as he urged grandma to take the truck keys and head to peaceland immediately.
Fear gripped grandma as she considered leaving grandpa behind. "But what about you?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.
"We don't have much time left now!" grandpa yelled, the urgency in his voice unyielding. The gravity of the situation was apparent to both of them.
Without wasting another moment, grandma mustered all her remaining energy and carefully hoisted John onto her back. With a swift motion, she placed him in the trunk of their old truck before zooming off towards peaceland, leaving behind the only home they had known for years.
As they sped away, their hearts racing, grandpa's words echoed in the air, "He should be here any minute now." The sound of a crash shattered the silence, reverberating through the house as a figure came hurtling in with incredible speed.
"Where is he?" the figure demanded, his voice filled with violence.
"We meet again, Adam," grandpa said calmly, his stance unwavering.
"No, we meet again, Kevin. It's been decades since you gave me this scar on my face, and then you ran off!" Adam's anger seethed through his words.
Grandpa's eyes gleamed with determination. "Enough with your blabbering. Let's fight," he said, his voice steady and resolute.
Adam's attempts to retaliate were futile as grandpa effortlessly overpowered him, sending him crashing into the ground time and again. The speed and precision of grandpa's movements were beyond Adam's comprehension.
"I will kill you, old man!" Adam's voice was laced with frustration as he struggled to come to terms with grandpa's superior skills.
Grandpa's chuckle revealed a hint of nostalgia. "You think twenty years could make me rusty, young blood?"
Adam, realizing the disparity in their strengths, decided to unleash his true power. He unleashed a surge of intense energy, writhing in excruciating pain as he repeatedly declared his intent to kill grandpa.
Grandpa, however, remained steadfast. "I may have led you to believe I'm not rusty to keep my cool, but the truth is, I have to finish you in time." With a renewed determination, grandpa dashed toward Adam with lightning speed, his movements a blur as he closed in on his opponent.
Meanwhile, John slowly regained consciousness, his surroundings a blur as he found himself lying in the back of the truck. Confusion and panic washed over him, and he frantically called out for help, believing he had been kidnapped.
"John! John!" grandma's voice pierced through his distress. With a burst of strength, she shouted, "John!" Her voice carried a mix of urgency and relief as John turned his head towards her voice.
"Ma!" John exclaimed, surprise evident in his tone. "Where are we going, and where is Pa?" he added, trying to make sense of the chaotic situation.
"Your pa had to settle a little business, sweetie," grandma explained, her voice choked with emotion. "He will be back soon."
As John struggled to process the information, the sounds of a fierce struggle reached his ears. He strained to listen, his heart pounding in his chest, as the clash of bodies and the grunts of exertion filled the air.
Amidst the chaos, John couldn't help but feel a mix of worry and curiosity. "What really happened?" he wondered. "And why is grandma so tense?"
An intrusive thought crept into John's mind, a nagging doubt fueled by his imagination. "What if she's like that wicked grandma in the games?" Fear began to take hold of him as he trembled, his voice quivering, "You're not going to kill me, right? I know how much I've hurt you and Pa, but please don't kill me. I promise not to cause trouble again."
Grandma's response was immediate, her tone both exasperated and comforting. "Shut up, idiot. Do you really think I will kill you? Sometimes I wonder if I was the one who raised you."
Relief washed over John as he realized he had been overthinking. "Phew, I knew I could trust you, ma," he said, the tension easing from his voice.
"Just shut up," grandma replied tiredly, her focus consumed by the urgency of their situation.
Finally, after hours of anticipation, John and grandma arrived in peaceland. The journey had been filled with uncertainty and trepidation, their minds burdened by the absence of grandpa.
As they settled down in an old building, John couldn't help but voice his cynical observation. "Why am I not surprised? This place looks like the perfect setting for a murder," he muttered under his breath.
"Hurry up and unfold those clothes now!" grandma snapped, her patience wearing thin.
Rolling his eyes playfully, John decided to tease her. "You know, calling you ma seems really weird, and calling you 'grandma' feels even weirder. Maybe I should just call you 'Miss Nag'."
Annoyance flashed across grandma's face as she retorted, "Hurry up and just unfold those clothes, dammit!"
Chuckling to himself, John picked up the pace, unfolding the clothes with a mix of amusement and obedience.
Their banter was abruptly interrupted by the sound of clacking coming from the door. Both John and grandma froze, their attention immediately drawn to the unexpected noise.
"What was that sound? I thought we were the only ones here," John whispered, his voice barely audible.
With a calm yet cautious expression, grandma replied, "Why don't you go check? You can use this mopping stick."
John hesitated for a moment, his fear evident as he contemplated the unknown. Summoning his courage, he muttered to himself, "I guess I have to go then. If anything happens, I'll just run."
As he approached the door, a thick mist seemed to seep through the cracks, adding to the eerie atmosphere. With trembling hands, John turned the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open.
To his horror, a figure emerged from the mist, their body slumped and covered in wounds. The injured figure stumbled forward before collapsing face-first onto the ground.
A mix of shock and concern flooded grandma's face as she rushed to the fallen figure's side. In disbelief, she exclaimed, "Honey?!"