This was pretty unusual.

I wasn't so naive to think my plans, no matter how well calculated, couldn't deviate from the blueprint, but this was certainly a new peak of fucked up.

The machine was on my heels as I bolted around another corner, sprinting with a healthy tinge of my Spark powering my legs. Being a speed specialist Inquisitor meant I was able to imbue my body to push it past human limitations easier than the average Inquisitor, as well as an added boost.

Still, the Machine kept me in its sights, firing as it ran fast enough to leave a cheetah in fiery dust. Sure I wasn't going all out with my speed, considering the tight confines of the corridor and my tendency to always keep some gas in the reserve, but its speed was nothing to sneeze at.

It was exactly the risk that I dedicated my career to avoiding and the reason I had been successful thus far. Now, the only success to focus on was escaping a casket.

I'd never been a fan of tight spaces.

Drawing on my memory while under the threat of incineration was surprisingly difficult, but I managed, calculating that I was a few turns away from the lobby. I would have to turn back to go back out the way I came so the main entrance was my avenue of escape. Outside, I would be able to really let loose and shake this hunking piece of...

My stride faltered momentarily as I came to a realization.

I couldn't lead the machine outside. Despite its complicated creation, the government had conveniently omitted a civilian preservation feature. It wouldn't go out of its way to kill someone other than its targets of course, but it also wouldn't avoid casualties. Meaning my fans whose cheers I heard (as they were unaware of their hero's struggles) could be turned into Swiss cheese if I used the front entrance with it trailing behind.

I wasn't literally obligated to protect the crowd and my reputation would hardly take a hit, if any, should a few fans die at the hands of a killing machine chasing me. Regardless, I felt a certain responsibility to the crowd.

Which meant I only had one choice.

I twirled on my heel, ducking below the trajectory of machine fire and taking a deep calming breath, drawing energy from my Spark into my legs. I positioned myself like a runner on his set mark, crouching down as my legs powered up before shooting forward like a spring.

The machine didn't have humane emotions, so it continued forward with no fear of the human rocket fast approaching.

Not that it bothered me.

I slammed into its midsection, wrapping my arms around it. Even with the force of my speed, I didn't topple the easily eight-foot machine over, its sturdy body feeling as immovable as a cave wall. Its machine guys started a whirring sound, moving to point down at my exposed back, but I wasn't done yet.

I ignited my spark, focusing the rising heat on a single point of my finger.

Inquisitors were able to gain control and mastery the more they used and harvested their spark. Even then there was a limitation to their growth that could only be broken by death-defying situations. This was why more than five handfuls of Inquisitors died probably every hour and a half.

They were constantly looking to test their limits to grow in power. I, on the other hand, felt very content with effectively picking my battles and not prioritizing my progression over my life.

Risk aversion, remember?

As such, my firepower probably couldn't hold a candle to truly strong Inquisitors. However, I practiced meditation often which though met with skepticism, was a way to understand the spark and thus control it better. Now, I could visualize and control my Spark to my desire better than most, though I doubt I'd end up on any strongest lists at the moment.

Having a nonexistent social life made a lot of time for experimenting and discovering techniques like the one I now planned to use. I imagined drawing energy from my spark and condensing it toward my finger, flattening it so it was centered on my index finger. Then, I poked the machine's midriff with my finger oozing raging arcane energy.

The result was a concentrated explosion that sent the Machine shooting through the nearest wall like a ball shot full speed from a pitching machine. I flew backward myself, slamming into the opposite wall with more force than I had anticipated.

It was my first time trying the little party designed to make up for my lack of firepower in action. My back ached and my forgotten shoulder again roared with pain. I groaned as I rose to my feet shakily, my shoulder intent on sharing its discomfort.

I walked to the giant hole in the wall and realized that the machine had fallen all the way downstairs. The corridor was on the upper floor, which meant my attack had acted as a spontaneous elevator trip down for the machine.

The machine now had a gaping hole in its midsection but was already starting to shift from its position on the floor. The gift of no pain threshold.

I could really use some of that myself, I thought, rubbing my searing shoulder.

It would be just a few moments before the machine would be back on its feet, though sporting a hole that should hinder it in some way. I felt a chill, signaling the dwindling of my energy reserves.

That wasn't good.

An Inquisitor who ran out of energy opening themselves up to serious dangers. Either, they lost the ability to manipulate their spark and the timeline it took for them to regain their spark was unpredictable. It could be as soon as five minutes or from some rumours I'd heard, an entire month.

On the other hand -and much worse, in my opinion, was the chance that the Inquisitor lost control. This didn't mean that they were possessed by some evil spirit, it was much simpler than that. They lost the ability to control their power output.

It was like an erupting volcano in most cases, raw and destructive to both the Inquisitor and their surroundings. I had pledged myself to never lose control again.

I shook my head clear. I'd need to act fast to finish this fight. There was a rumor circulating that these machines had the ability to adapt, and even if it proved false, I wasn't sure I had the juice for many more attacks capable of piercing its armor.

I couldn't have this draw out much longer.

I once again crouched in a runner's stance, charging up energy in my legs as a plan began to form. The spark no longer responded immediately. It took some internal beckoning before I was able to coach out the power I needed.

I had calculated the risk and decided that this was the avenue of the least risk while still effectively spelling victory.

Hopefully.

Without further hesitation I launched forward, though not yet letting the power disperse and propel me forward. Instead, I did a normal jump through the hole and gravity started to take a natural hole, pulling me downwards toward the recuperating machine twenty feet below.

When I was sure I had positioned myself accurately, I activated the dormant power in my feet, using the energy like a rocket engine to push me forward at breakneck speed.

The machine was just regaining its feet when I slammed into its head with my fist outstretched in a poor imitation of a superhero.

I had hardened my hand with coarse energy but it could only dim the pain of punching through multiple layers of metal on a controlled fall of twenty-five feet.

"FUCK!"

I initially landed on the machine's body, my momentum causing me to flip over and introduce my back to the ground with a sickening bone-crunching thud.

That was certainly one way to adjust your spine.

I couldn't focus to see if the machine was finally out of commission, my attention solely focused on sparingly using my spark to heal my excruciating injuries. I wasn't sure if I'd broken my shoulder or what injury tag a doctor might attach to my back but I did know one thing.

It hurt like hell times hell.

After what felt like an hour of groaning and holding back the watering of my eyes (no, not tears), but was probably closer to two minutes, I rolled over on my stomach to admire my work. As expected, the machine wasn't moving. In fact, it was now headless thanks to my poorly executed Superman punch.

I could certainly imagine it chasing me without a head but the accumulation of its damage must have done it in.

Not bad for a B ranker I'd say. Not that the world may agree, but who's asking?

I stood up, wincing at mostly phantom pain as I stretched my limbs, appreciating the fact I could still move them at all. I couldn't resist an extra kick to the machine as I passed it which I immediately regretted thanks to a sharp pain in my foot.

Dammit.

I limped to the entrance, steeling myself before frying the lock. The crowd had gone silent. They were accustomed to me finishing jobs speedily thanks to my overplanning, but this had not been such a case.

I stood tall as I emerged from the door, putting on an act that would've been broken if they had seen me just five minutes ago. Nonetheless, the people needed to see a champion.

The crowd roared at the sight of me, pumping their first as I raised my own. Each victory belonged to not only me, but also the people who couldn't put up a fight physically. So they supported someone who could, egging them on and granting them more power than even they might be aware of.

The power of being depended on.

I soaked up the cheers with a grateful smile hidden by my mask. The pain I had gone through was suddenly worth it as I scanned the sea of joyous faces.

God knows we needed more joy in this wretched world.

Chapter Two - Faceoff

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