In time, the enhancements evolved. What began as mere boosts to strength and speed grew into something far more complex. The test subjects started manifesting powers that defied logic—control over gravity, the ability to generate intense heat or freezing cold, and even manipulation of electricity. These abilities transformed them from soldiers into weapons, each unique in their own devastating way.
Remus, however, was different. While others unlocked their powers, his remained dormant. He excelled in raw combat, but the intangible abilities that set the others apart eluded him. He didn't mind. His ferocity was unmatched, and it was enough to keep him at the top.
That changed when the tides of war shifted.
The whispers came first—rumors of betrayal. A mole among the scientists had defected to Germanica, taking with him the secrets of Englasia's experiments. The enemy, once teetering on the edge of collapse, was now resurgent. They had perfected the methods that had created Englasia's super-soldiers, and their numbers swelled with fighters who wielded powers equal to—or in some cases, greater than—those of Englasia's elite.
The battlefield changed overnight. The once-lopsided battles became brutal clashes. Where Englasian soldiers had dominated, they now found themselves evenly matched. Yet, through it all, Remus remained a force of nature.
No matter how powerful or intricate an opponent's abilities were, they crumbled before him. Soldiers who could twist the air into weapons, incinerate foes with fire, or bend gravity to their will—all of them fell. Against Remus, their powers became useless, their efforts meaningless. He cut through them with an efficiency that was as terrifying as it was undeniable.
"Is that all?" he would mutter under his breath, stepping over the defeated. His fellow soldiers, even those who shared his enhancements, whispered about him in hushed tones.
But the tide turned again. Germanica grew desperate. They sent their strongest.
His name was Ouran, and even before the battle, he was a legend among the Germanican forces. The experimentation had changed him drastically. His hair, once dark, now shimmered with an unnatural silver sheen. He was said to be the culmination of everything Germanica had learned, a fighter whose strength surpassed all others.
When Remus and Ouran finally faced each other, the battlefield was silent, save for the wind that carried the stench of blood and ash. Around them lay the bodies of those who had dared to stand against Remus, their powers and skills no match for his relentless might. Yet, as Ouran stepped forward, there was a shift in the air.
"So, you're the one they can't stop talking about," Ouran said, his voice calm but edged with something sharp.
Remus didn't answer immediately. He studied his opponent, noting the fluid way he moved, the confidence in his stance. This wasn't an ordinary soldier.
"And you're the one they think can stop me," Remus finally replied, his tone flat.
"I don't think. I know."
Ouran stepped forward and vanished, leaving nothing but a faint shimmer in the air where he had been. To the soldiers who watched from the distant ridges, it was as though the Germanican warrior had become a ghost. But this was no trick. Ouran had control over time itself, the linchpin of all powers. With it, he could halt the world around him, bending every second to his will.
To him, this was already over.
Remus stood motionless, unaware—or so it seemed—of the attack coming for him. Ouran, moving at a speed no mortal could fathom, closed the distance in an instant. His sword gleamed as it sliced through the frozen air, aimed directly for Remus's neck.
Too easy, Ouran thought. It always was. No one could see him, much less react.
But then it happened.
Before the blade could connect, Remus's arm shot out, faster than thought, catching Ouran in mid-strike. The force of his counter sent Ouran hurtling through the air, his body slamming into the dirt and tumbling several feet before coming to a stop.
For the first time, Ouran felt something unfamiliar: panic.
"What?" he muttered under his breath, sweat beading on his forehead as he pulled himself to his feet. He glanced around, searching for an answer. The world was still frozen—blades of grass stuck mid-sway, droplets of blood hanging in the air like crimson pearls. Time remained stopped. His ability was active.
And yet, Remus moved.
At first, it was barely perceptible. A twitch of his fingers, a subtle shift in his stance. Then, inch by inch, his body began to turn. His movements were slow but deliberate, his gaze locking onto Ouran with a feral intensity that made the air feel heavy.
"How—?" Ouran began, his voice trembling despite himself. "You shouldn't be able to—"
Remus didn't answer. He took a step forward, the ground beneath him cracking under the weight of his presence.
"I see you now," Remus said, his voice low and guttural, carrying an edge that sent a chill down Ouran's spine.
Ouran gritted his teeth, gripping his sword tighter. "Don't get cocky," he spat, though the quiver in his voice betrayed him. "You're just—just a freak! A broken tool!"
Remus tilted his head, the motion eerily calm. "Maybe," he said, his voice steady now, almost reflective. "But I'm still here."
Ouran's heart pounded as Remus took another step forward, the distance between them closing with agonizing slowness. The impossible was happening, and for the first time, Ouran was forced to wonder if he truly was invincible.
With every passing moment, Remus moved faster, his body adapting to the frozen world as though it were second nature. Ouran gritted his teeth, pushing his ability to its limits. His power wasn't merely stopping time—it allowed him to accelerate himself to absurd speeds, moving at a pace that defied comprehension. In the blink of an eye, the battlefield became a blur as the two clashed.
Sword met fist in an exchange that left shockwaves rippling through the frozen air. Blades of grass disintegrated under the pressure, and the ground beneath them fractured like glass. In the timeless space where they fought, they traded countless blows in a fraction of a second.
But it wasn't enough.
Ouran's movements, though impossibly fast, began to falter. Remus, relentless and unyielding, was surpassing him. Each clash brought him closer to the breaking point as Remus adapted with a frightening ease. Soon, it became undeniable—Remus wasn't just keeping up; he was pulling ahead.
In a final surge, Remus struck with a force that sent Ouran hurtling into the ground. The Germanican soldier gasped, blood dripping from his lips as he lay sprawled on the broken earth. His body trembled, exhaustion and defeat etched into every line of his face.
"It's over," he rasped, his voice barely audible. He coughed, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. "Just...finish it."
But Remus didn't move to strike. Instead, he crouched down, his piercing gaze meeting Ouran's. There was no gloating, no sadistic pleasure in his expression. Only cold determination.
"I need something from you," Remus said, his voice steady and calm despite the chaos that surrounded them.
Ouran blinked, confusion cutting through his pain. "What...what do you want?"
"Can you travel back in time?"
The question hung in the air, absurd and heavy. Ouran hesitated, his breathing ragged as he tried to process what he'd just heard. "Why...why does that matter?"
Remus leaned closer, his tone sharp. "Can you do it or not?"
After a moment, Ouran nodded weakly. "I can. But no one else knows... It's not something I've used for more than a few hours at a time. Two years, though...I might be able to, but it'll push me to my limit."
"Good." Remus straightened, glancing at the devastation around them. His voice dropped to a low murmur. "Then you're going to take me back."
Ouran's brow furrowed as he forced himself to sit up. "Why?" What are you planning to do?"
Remus's jaw tightened, and for the first time, a hint of vulnerability flickered in his eyes. "I'm going to save my family," he said quietly. "And then I'm leaving all of this behind."
Ouran stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. Finding none, he let out a shaky breath and stood with difficulty. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, using his ability to reverse time on himself. Wounds stitched themselves back together, and the blood staining his silver hair vanished.
"I can try," he said, his voice steadier now. "But I don't know if it'll work. Two years is..."
"It'll work," Remus interrupted, his tone leaving no room for doubt. He extended a hand toward Ouran. "Let's go."
For a moment, Ouran hesitated, the weight of what he was about to do pressing heavily on his shoulders. Then, with a resigned sigh, he reached out and took Remus's hand.
Silver light flared around them, growing brighter until it engulfed the battlefield. As the two vanished in a flash, time resumed its natural flow, the frozen world lurching back into motion.