Bubble chirped mockingly, its voice echoing through the cavern. "Come on, all of you at once! Let's see if numbers can make up for your lack of skill!"
It wasn't just Blackie that surged toward the sparrow. The entire flock joined the fray, diving from every direction, their determination palpable despite the pain and fear etched on their faces.
Bubble smirked—or at least the avian equivalent of a smirk—before opening its beak. A volley of water bubbles shot out in rapid succession, cutting through the air like projectiles.
The assault was relentless. The water bullets pelted the advancing birds, striking with precision. Some faltered mid-flight, their screeches of pain ringing out, but most pressed on, their sheer determination driving them forward despite the agony.
Blackie, however, was in a league of its own. It used its metallic wings like shields, slicing through the incoming bubbles with precision. When overwhelmed, it folded its wings protectively around its body, blocking the barrage and pushing forward with calculated movements.
The most pitiful sight, though, was the woodpecker. It remained trapped in the relentless storm of hundreds of water bullets, its feathers soaked and torn. The once-proud bird now resembled a helpless creature on the verge of collapse, screeching in agony as it teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.
Other birds fared a little better. The parrots and sparrows were battered and bruised, struggling to persevere. Yet, despite their pain, they pushed forward, driven by a glimmer of hope that breaking through might awaken their latent abilities.
Blackie, having breached the watery onslaught, didn't charge at Bubble. Instead, it veered toward its pitiful-looking younger brother, determined to shield it from the unending barrage.
"Oh, you want to save that pathetic loser? Be my guest," Bubble chirped in its arrogant, mocking tone. "But don't come back crying when you fail. Best of luck."
Blackie seethed with anger, its metallic feathers bristling. Every bird present despised Bubble's smugness, a shared hatred that bound them in their struggle.
All but one.
John, still mentally linked to the psychotic sparrow, observed with a mix of admiration and amusement. To him, Bubble was no ordinary menace—it was his ace, the unyielding champion of his fledgling Sky Dominance Clan.
Yet, as he delved deeper into Bubble's thoughts, a startling revelation surfaced. A shift in its intentions, a secret plan that caught him off guard.
"Brilliant," John muttered, suppressing a grin. "If this trial of yours works, then all of them might follow suit. You're not just a psycho, Bubble—you're a genius psycho."
He paused, contemplating the implications. "You might have just earned yourself a star of excellence for the clan. And this changes everything. I'll need to restructure the entire administrative strata of my Sky Dominance Clan. Competitiveness among my subordinates—yes, that's the key."
Meanwhile, John turned his attention to Blackie. He couldn't help but sigh, his tone almost pitying. "Blackie, you poor thing. Your timing couldn't be worse. You've stumbled right into Bubble's trap. But consider this a lesson my little jock, you're just dancing like a clueless monkey at the tune of its drum. Grow from this. Don't let a pitfall like this hold you back."
Unfortunately, John's words of wisdom remained locked in his mind. Blackie's resolve burned bright, but it was charging blindly into a meticulously laid snare.
Blackie used its metallic wings to slice through a nearby small pool of water shooting bullets at its kind the sparrows. But as it moved, its wing suddenly got stuck mid-slice, trapped in the swirling, liquid mass.
A shrill, mocking cry escaped Bubble, echoing through the cavern and eclipsing the miserable screeches of the little woodpecker, still caught under the relentless barrage of water bullets.
"Foul you! Ha, you bloody foul!" Bubble chirped, its tone dripping with theatrical malice, like a seasoned villain in an opera. "Your camaraderie is truly remarkable. Admirable, even. But alas, you're still a hundred years too young to deal with this spell. The moment you broke through my trap, I grounded you with an anti-flying skill—one far more potent than the cheap tricks I used earlier. Stay there and bask in your humiliation... or admit to our master that you're unfit to be part of the Sky Dominance Clan. Then, maybe, I'll consider letting you go."
The other birds, who had initially contemplated diving in to save the little woodpecker, hesitated mid-flight, seeing Blackie's plight.
Bubble turned its sharp gaze toward them. "You lot! Watch and learn, or I'll do something far worse to you all."
Then, fixing its focus back on Blackie, Bubble sneered. "Well? Do you agree to my condition?"
"Shut up!" Blackie chirped defiantly, its voice a mixture of anger and determination. "Do you really think you're the best among us? You're just lucky you awakened your skill before the rest of us."
Bubble's feathers ruffled in amusement. "Luck?" it mocked. "If you think my dominance is just luck, then you're even dumber than I thought."
Meanwhile, John, observing the exchange, mused to himself. Luck, is it? No, Blackie. Bubble isn't the best because of luck, but you're not entirely wrong either. In cultivation, luck itself is a skill—an edge that separates the strongest from the rest.
Bubble chirped arrogantly. "As expected of our valiant little hero. But let's see how you handle this."
Opening its beak, Bubble unleashed a series of water bullets, each one striking the same spot on Blackie's forehead with pinpoint accuracy.
Blackie growled, trying desperately to dodge, but no matter how it moved, each water bullet found its mark, slamming into its forehead with relentless precision. The unyielding barrage forced Blackie to grit its beak in frustration, its movements growing increasingly frantic as it struggled against the trap.
"That weirdo... what's it planning this time?" a parrot asked, its voice tinged with both curiosity and unease.
"Nothing good, I'd wager. We'd best stay put and not piss it off further," a sparrow replied cautiously. "Who knows what new torture Bubble's got up its sleeve?"
"You lot are pathetic!" a voice screeched, cutting through their whispers. It was the woodpecker, still struggling to crawl up the cave wall, its body battered but its defiance burning strong. "Sitting there, enjoying the show while your flock is humiliated like this? Big Brother, hold on! I'm just a step away from cleansing my mark. Then I'll join the fight and take down that demonic beast!"
The parrots exchanged glances, one of them chirping back with biting sarcasm. "Your flock? Ha! Are you kidding me? Truly laughable, coming from someone who bullied us not so long ago." It mimicked the woodpecker's tone mockingly, earning a few amused chirps from others.
Another sparrow chimed in, its tone measured but resolute. "Look, we all know Blackie's the strongest among us. Newly awakened, too. But even it fell right into Bubble's trap the moment it cast that spell. We can't just rush in without a plan. Attacking mindlessly would only make things worse."
"Sure," a second sparrow added bitterly, "we all hate that arrogant bastard Bubble. But don't forget, Blackie's not my 'younger brother' or anything, even if we're blood-related."
Their words hung in the air, a mix of frustration, disdain, and fear.
Meanwhile, Bubble chirped once, the sound sharp and commanding. Despite the other birds' hatred for it, the sparrows, parrots, and even the injured woodpecker fell silent, their hostility tempered by the sparrow's imposing aura.
"Oh, after trapping Blackie, Bubble doesn't even need to fight the rest directly. It's got them all in line, even if they hate its guts," John thought, observing the scene with a mixture of fascination and amusement. That's the true power of a Punisher. A tyrant through and through. I like it.
And then the torture began. Even the softest drops of water could bore a hole through the hardest rock if concentrated on a single spot. After just a few minutes, each water bubble crashing against Blackie's head felt as heavy as a mountain.
Bubble chirped mockingly, halting its relentless attack on the little woodpecker for a moment. "Listen, I'll give you a choice. It's either you or it. Who do you choose? … Or have you fainted already?"
The little woodpecker squawked defiantly, spitting out a series of avian expletives. "You think you can break me with just that weak skill? Dream on!"
Bubble's eyes gleamed with sadistic amusement. "Good. What about you, Blackie? Changed your mind about saving this pitiful fool and saving yourself instead? Will you?" Its words dripped with derision as it continued its merciless barrage, each water bubble slamming into Blackie's forehead again and again.
Blackie's body trembled under the punishment, but its resolve was unshaken. "Bubble, I swear, you and I will never live under the same sky," Blackie rasped, its voice strained but unyielding.
"Oh, even better!" Bubble chirped triumphantly, and with a flick of its wings, five water balls suddenly veered toward the little woodpecker, attacking it again with even greater speed and ferocity.
As the assault intensified, Bubble's squawks grew louder, mocking the flock for their weakness. But then, amidst the chaos, something strange began to happen. The little woodpecker, battered and on the verge of collapse, showed a glimmer of change. Its mark, dormant until now, began to glow faintly, flickering like a dying ember before steadily growing brighter. The mark glittered for a brief moment, then dimmed, leaving a ripple of energy in its wake.
This was the unmistakable sign of awakening.
The other birds froze in shock. This was the same phenomenon that had occurred when Blackie had invoked its innate ability.
And yet, no one had seen Bubble's awakening—not even John.
"Now, you can thank me later. Go to sleep—you've earned it, at least for managing to bleed me a little," Bubble chirped mockingly. With a flick of its wings, a barrage of water bullets struck the little woodpecker, slamming it down onto the floor. The small bird lay motionless, unconscious.
Arrogantly, Bubble turned to the rest of the flock, its sharp eyes gleaming with authority. "Who's next? Anyone here willing to wager your life to awaken your innate abilities?"
The cave fell into an uneasy silence. Even Blackie, enduring the relentless punishment, paused in its cries of pain, its gaze fixed on Bubble in disbelief. Was Bubble truly helping the flock awaken their abilities, or was this just another display of its twisted sense of superiority?
For a moment, Blackie felt ashamed. It had only thought of its own struggle and its pride. Yet now, it saw an opportunity—an idea sparked in its mind. If this torment could awaken my innate ability further, perhaps I can use this pressure to cleanse my mark and grow stronger.
Breaking the silence, a parrot stepped forward, chirping resolutely. Without waiting for Bubble's approval, it flew directly into the area of effect where the spell was cast.
Bubble sneered, "Foolish." With a single chirp, the spell activated, sending hundreds of water bullets crashing into the parrot from all directions.
The torture lasted five grueling minutes. The parrot endured, its feathers soaked and its body trembling under the unrelenting assault. Then, at last, the faint glow of its mark began to shine. A ripple of energy surged through its body as it invoked its innate ability. Exhausted, the parrot managed to chirp its gratitude before collapsing.
Bubble sneered disdainfully. "I'm not doing this for you pathetic losers. This is for Master and the Sky Dominating Clan. Don't go around claiming to be part of the clan with that poor excuse for a skill. Now, get lost."
The parrot was knocked unconscious, falling to the floor beside the little woodpecker.
Inspired by the parrot's success, the remaining birds began to chirp in Bubble's honor, but the arrogant sparrow dismissed their flattery with a cold glare. It didn't care for their praise. One by one, the birds lined up and entered the zone of torture, enduring the extreme trial Bubble imposed. Slowly but surely, each of them awakened their innate abilities, only to collapse unconscious afterward.
Meanwhile, John's consciousness stirred as his body reverted to its original mockingbird form. Stretching his wings, he muttered with a faint smile, "Three and a half hours this time. Not bad. Progress is progress, I guess."
As he surveyed the cave, he saw the flock sprawled across the cool floor, unconscious but transformed. Their marks glimmered faintly, evidence of their newfound strength.
Only two birds remained airborne. Bubble hovered confidently, its expression cold and imperious, while Blackie, battered but unyielding, continued to fight. Its determination burned brighter than ever as it focused all its willpower and strength on breaking the seal that bound its wings.