Dick didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, raising his fist. When his knuckles connected with the boulder, something miraculous happened. The rock shattered into countless pieces, raining harmlessly to the ground.
Stunned, Dick stared at his own hand. He couldn't believe what he had just done. Had he… had he just destroyed a boulder with a single punch?
Alex groaned as he struggled to sit up, while Ms. Perry stared at the wreckage in disbelief. They had witnessed the impossible. Alex saved, Perry rescued, and the boulder destroyed—all feats beyond explanation.
But what was happening to Dick? What kind of power was he wielding now?
---
The School in Crisis
The strange occurrences had thrown the entire school into chaos. Students whispered in corners, their faces pale with fear. Teachers kept watchful eyes, looking over their shoulders at every turn. Moore was still missing, and now, more students had begun to vanish or show up dead under circumstances that couldn't be explained.
The morning assembly was unusually tense. Ms. Perry stood at the podium, trying to project confidence, but her strained expression betrayed her anxiety.
"I know you are scared," she said, her voice steady, yet tinged with the weight of the situation. "But the police are here to protect us. If anyone has any information about what's been happening—anything at all—please come forward. Your identity will remain confidential."
The students murmured among themselves, casting furtive glances at each other. Mikey and his group sat apart, their expressions dark and wary, as if they had something to hide.
As the assembly dispersed, Mikey gathered his friends in a secluded corner. "Now do you see why I said we need to stop Dick?" he said, his voice low, laced with malice. "He's dangerous. If he gets to Ms. Perry or the principal, we're finished."
But Dick wasn't paying attention to Mikey or his scheming. He had bigger concerns—finding Moore and understanding the strange powers that had awoken within him. His mind was consumed with questions, and he knew that only one person had the answers.
---
Ms. Perry's Suspicion
During class, Ms. Perry suddenly appeared at the door, her gaze locking onto Dick. Without a word, she pointed at him.
"You," she said, her voice sharp. "Come to my office."
Poure watched nervously as Dick followed her, unable to shake the feeling that something terrible was about to unfold.
In her office, Ms. Perry motioned for Dick to sit, her usual stern demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic calmness. Through the window, Dick noticed two policemen outside—one walking the perimeter, the other standing motionless
A Chilling Realization
"Dick, because ants bit you doesn't make you an ant-man," Dr. Kray said, his voice firm, his tone implying that he had long since exhausted his patience. His eyes briefly flicked over Dick's chart for the final time, his pen tapping rhythmically against the desk, an absent gesture of disinterest. "I've run all the necessary tests, and I can assure you—you're perfectly fine. Ants don't live inside people. What you're experiencing, it's just your imagination. The mind has a funny way of playing tricks when you're stressed."
Dick's stomach twisted. His entire body felt like it was rebelling against the doctor's words. He wasn't imagining it. The sensations under his skin—the crawling, the shifting, the whispers of movement that shouldn't have been there—it was all very real. There was no explanation that could change that. His strength, his strange connection to the ants, the visions—they weren't delusions. They were truths, undeniable and impossible to ignore.
"I know what I'm feeling," Dick said, trying to keep his voice calm, but his words felt like they were being forced through clenched teeth. "You're wrong."
Dr. Kray raised an eyebrow, offering Dick a look that was half condescending, half weary. "Dick, sometimes stress manifests itself in ways that aren't easy to understand. You're young. There's a lot going on in your life. Trust me, your mind is playing tricks on you."
But Dick's frustration bubbled over. He had tried to be reasonable. He had tried to be calm. But all he was hearing now was dismissiveness, a refusal to accept what he knew to be true.
"I know what's real," he muttered under his breath, the words escaping as a hoarse whisper, barely audible to anyone but himself. He knew this wasn't the right place for answers. The doctor wasn't going to help him. No one was. Not here, not now.
He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the linoleum floor in a harsh screech that filled the sterile, impersonal office. His movements were sharp and fueled by the anger that had been building inside him, but there was something else in the air now—something that made him pause.
On the desk, slightly askew from where it had been left, was a cup. Its rim faintly glinted under the dim office light, and though Dick hadn't been consciously focusing on it, he could feel it. The presence of the cup seemed to hum, vibrating in sync with something deep inside him.
Without thinking, Dick turned and walked back toward the desk. He grabbed the cup, his fingers trembling slightly, a strange surge of energy running through his veins. Without looking at Dr. Kray, he thrust the cup into his hands, his voice low, yet undeniably demanding.
"Throw it at me," Dick ordered. "Turn your back, throw it, and I'll show you what I'm talking about."
Dr. Kray's eyes narrowed, and he looked at Dick with the skepticism of someone who had spent too long in the medical field to believe in the extraordinary. His lips curled into a faint, patronizing smile.
"Dick, I'm a doctor, not a magician. I don't have time for—"
"Just do it!" Dick shouted, the sudden burst of force in his voice enough to make Dr. Kray flinch. For a brief moment, the room seemed to freeze. Even the air around them thickened.
Dr. Kray sighed, clearly reluctant but seemingly unwilling to argue further. He set the cup down on the desk with deliberate care. "This isn't how healing works, Dick," he said with an air of finality. "You're looking for answers in the wrong place. You need to be honest with yourself. I can't help you if you don't want to help yourself."
Dick's pulse quickened, his frustration mounting. But he knew it was futile to argue with someone who wouldn't even consider the possibility that something strange and powerful was happening to him. His hands clenched into fists, and without another word, he turned on his heel, storming out of the office.
---
The Path of Reckoning
Dick's footsteps were heavy as he walked down the school road, his mind consumed by the weight of the conversation he'd just left behind. Around him, the world seemed oblivious to his turmoil. Students laughed and chattered, their voices ringing in the air like innocent echoes. To everyone else, it was just another day. But to Dick, everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same.
Ms. Perry's words from earlier that week echoed in his mind: "You're special." He couldn't shake them, couldn't understand what she meant. What had changed in him? His body, his mind, everything felt different, like he wasn't entirely in control. He needed to understand. But the only answers he could find were buried in the forest—the place where all of this began.
Further down the path, a familiar figure appeared—Harry. The boy who had tormented him for years, always loud, always the strongest in the room. Harry was showing a group of younger students some Taekwondo moves, demonstrating his agility and strength with practiced ease. He was the center of attention, as always.
But now, something was different. Harry's eyes flicked to Dick as he passed, and a subtle shift in the air seemed to occur. Dick could feel it—Harry was aware of the changes too. His curiosity was piqued.
As Dick continued walking, he didn't look back. The forest path was calling to him, its darkness wrapping around him like a cloak. It was a path he had taken countless times, but today, it felt more foreboding, more alive. Every step forward felt like an invitation—an invitation to confront whatever was waiting.
He reached the forest's edge and stepped onto the well-worn trail. The canopy above him was thick, casting everything in a shadow that seemed to hum with hidden life. Dick's instincts screamed danger, but he didn't turn back. He couldn't. Not now.
To ease his nerves, Dick began moving through some basic combat stances, mimicking what he had seen in movies. His punches were sloppy, his kicks off-balance, but they were all he had. He had never been strong, never been the type to fight. But now, he felt an unnatural compulsion to try. He needed to prove something to himself, if not to anyone else.
Behind him, Harry observed, his gaze fixated on Dick's movements. A quiet laugh rumbled in his throat, but it was tinged with something darker, something more curious than mocking. Harry knew Dick wasn't the same. Something had shifted in the boy. And Harry couldn't help but wonder what it was.