The day Earth struck back, Happyland Asylum.

Nelly, Batman, Bane, Tyson, and Grog left me a letter with their hand-prints on it and a simple drawing describing an adventure they were embarking upon. I was pleased. Nelly was finally awakening her latent abilities, and if she did, she might even recover her faculties.

After breakfast, I left Happyland Asylum to face Feathered Blade.

It was a quiet morning beneath a gray, drizzly blanket, as if the sky itself held its breath in anticipation.

On the way, I picked up a pedestrian crossing road-sign as my weapon of choice. Tough as it was, my jaw wasn’t quite capable of withstanding direct attacks from a sword.

The street running past M*c Donald’s drive-thru, the roofs of all nearby buildings, as well as the windows, were crowded by gangbangers, local residents, and people from other neighbourhoods. Word had gotten around. City of Townberg had gathered to watch.

Doors of M*c Donalds flew open. Out walked Feathered Blade, wearing a cloak of raven feathers, which draped the ground. “This one admits surprise,” he said. “We anticipated having to hunt you down and drag you screaming from a hiding hole.”

“An interesting fantasy,” I remarked, moving to stand on a spot ten meters from my foe.

Feathered Blade covered his mouth and laughed through a sneer. “This one can hardly fathom the depths of your arrogance. For the benefit of the mortals gathered, this one shall share what he sees! The man before you possesses merely minor improvements in his bone-structure and muscular density. For all intents and purposes he remains a lowly external cultivator, far beneath those such as this one, who have tamed the power of Qi!”

In a flash, Feathered Blade swiped his cloak in a slashing motion, and slashed a cut in the asphalt.

“Aaa-ha-ha-ha! See? See what shall happen when a mortal creature dares court the ire of those who fly realms above him!”

Breeze fluttered his feathered mantle. A cheeseburger wrapper rolled across the road and smacked the man’s face.

It was reduced to scrap within the next five rage-fueled slashes.

A number of the audience members desperately pursed their lips shut or held hands before their mouths. I laughed.

Feathered Blade shot a wrathful glare at me. “You dare?!”

“Feathered Blade,” I began, lowering my voice to a gravestone. “You aren’t wrong to say that you possess greater power than I. That is precisely why you will die here today.”

A small stream of Big-Dick energy was already flowing through me, strengthening my external techniques, emboldening my presence. As the battle went on, its density would only grow.

Unlike Qi, Big-Dick energy is generated when others, be it your foe or random bystanders, witness you daring to act beyond the conventions of normal rational logic. Actions of confidence, when faced by overwhelming adversity. A special kind of confidence devoid of cockiness. Faith in oneself.

With over a thousand spectators, all of whom had witnessed the apocalypse wherein Qi cultivators laid low modern superpowers with their drones, nuclear weapons, and air carriers. A thousand spectators who’d yet to overcome the wounds of their global and personal tragedies. A thousand souls who’d accepted the defeat of our world as a tragic certainty. For a thousand such souls, what did my defiance stir in them?

What did they think upon seeing one man, whom many of them had known for the last five years as a Happyland patient, standing up to a Qi cultivator who’d recently decimated a squad of over one hundred soldiers?

Former salarymen tightened their fists. Retired grandmas grit their teeth, mumbling. Eyes of little school-kids widened, and they whispered to their mothers, asking the question.

Their anticipation.

Their disbelief.

Their envy of my boldness.

It all rushed through me like a foaming rapid, flooding my muscles with Big-Dick energy.

“This one suggests that—”

I cut Feathered Blade off by pointing skyward. “At the first the strike of thunder, we begin.”

Wutummm...

A purple crack split the sky.

He launched into the air, spread his cloak into wings, and dove at me like a black missile. I spun the road-sign to block. Qi reinforced talons sparked against weatherproof steel. He bounced upward, attempting to tear the weapon from my hands.

Both I and my road-sign were hoisted into the skies, high above the gasping crowds.

Qi shimmered over his free talon, which swiped at my face. Thunderstrike blinded me. The strike landed. Hot blood gushed from three cuts, washed off by the intensifying rain.

“Let go or stay. Die by fall or talon. Either way, you shall perish!” The cultivator cawed, climbing higher still with laborious strikes of his faux wings.

“I’ll have to refuse. Alpha cultivators make their own option A.” I grabbed my road sign with both hands, treating it as an exercise bar, then performed a rapid-fire set of crisp fireman pull-ups, taking him by surprise! Each rep, the sharp edge of my chin, slashed his ankle.

Shrieking, the cultivator let go.

I plummeted seven stories. Every joint and bone in my body buckled as I landed into a roll. Flexing my muscles and channeling Big-Dick energy, I protected my innards from rupturing, at least the worst of it.

A cough of blood escaped my lungs. My body felt as if it’d been danced on by a road-roller.

Lightning struck across the storm above, illuminating a black silhouette. Steadying my wobbling feet, I swung my road sign to block the first strike of two lunging talons.

Each of his strikes reverberated through my bones. Each threatened to force me backwards. And, as mad rage seeped into the wide yellow eyes of Feathered Blade, the tempo of his assault only grew.

Cawing and screeching, he was on me like a gigantic vulture of blackest night. Smacks of his Qi-reinforced wings cut into my muscles. His claws began to leave cuts on my weapon.

“You are skilled,” I admitted. More so than the current me. Steady stream of Big-Dick energy, which I channeled across my body, was the edge that kept me standing.

For years, I had practised in solitude, without an opponent or a foe to fix bad habits and misguided intuition. Although Alpha cultivation techniques were superior, my combat experience in their utilization was lacking. I’d forged a blade of myself, but not once taken it to a whetstone.

I smiled at him. “You have my gratitude for this opportunity.”

This drew his face into a primal snarl.

Ignoring the wounds and possibility of death, I unsheathed my blade and got to work sharpening the chinks with blood and pain.

As strikes rained upon me faster than the waterfall downpour above, I rotated through the defensive postures of Alpha cultivation: [Impeccable Pecs], [That Almost Hurt], [Sure You Wanna Do That, Bruh?], [The Final Butt], [Leg Day Everyday], and finally the [Unlimited Ab Works].

Merciless talons tore weaknesses in technique from my flesh.

Whenever a chance shined to counterstrike, I honed my offensive techniques: [Oops Didn’t See You There], [Sorry Bruh, I Tried to Hold Back], [Alpha Slap], and all the eleven different Alpha Walk techniques.

Hundreds of thunder strikes passed.

Tens of thousands of attacks were exchanged.

Hours passed.

Lightheadedness crept in. Edges of my vision blackened. Blood loss wrapped its weights upon me, and exhaustion settled in like that old friend who refuses to leave your couch after crashing for weeks. Rather than muscle power, my body was animated by pure Big-Dick energy and willpower.

But Feathered Blade too slowed down. Rather than flying, he now glided and hopped on his uninjured leg. Where my techniques sharpened, his were losing their edge.

Yet still, he held the advantage.

A wingstrike spanked the road sign from my grip. Sharp twist of feathers slashed across my unprotected fingers and rendered them useless messes of bone and blood.

“You are defeated! This one…” Feathered Blade heaved. “Suggests… accept defeat… with grace.”

I scoffed, folded my broken fingers into fists, and held them up. Both arms felt like sacks of gravel, barely capable of motion. “About time,” I said, “We can move on to pure hand-to-hand techniques.”

“You dare?” Feathered Blade coughed blood. Qi spread through his feathers, and once more, the man turned into a blur of ravenblack death, dashing through me.

Slashes appeared all over my forearms and arms. My tendons were snapped and my fists unfolded once more into mush as both arms fell limp.

Again, he dashed.

Feathers ripped through my legs. Only the battered pedestrian crossing sign held me upright.

Feathered Blade appeared an inch before me, a silhouette of wrath. “You are defeated! Prostrate yourself before me, beg for mercy, and perhaps I shall spare your comrades.”

“You should have ran,” I said.

[Jawline Guillotine]

One sharp flick of my neck opened his into a fountain. Cloak of Qi reinforced feathers fell and dispersed as Feathered Blade collapsed, helplessly clutching his neck. He fell face first into a puddle of red and rainwater.

Clouds parted. Fire of the twilight reflected off of the wet pavement and burned in the wide eyes of the storm drenched spectators around me.

***

A moment was witnessed that day by 2412 residents of Townberg that would spread across Earth in whispers and videos. It was a moment Earth fought back, and won. A moment of patriotism surpassing national borders. A moment of pride. And to some, something greater...

***

“He’s weakened! We can take him now,” shouted a scrawny boy with a bright grin.

Fifty or so pistols, pilfered military rifles, and even a bazooka were pointed at me. Safeties clicked. Guns were cocked.

“You can,” I said, nodding grimly. “Put a bullet in my skull here, while I’m unable to dodge. Do it, and report your deed to the next Qi cultivator who comes here to lord over you. I’m certain you’ll be handsomely rewarded. But is that how you wish to live your life? Is this…” I gestured to the world around us. “...how you wished to live?”

A few barrels lowered. Murmurs. Then, a shout.

“Hell naw! I wanna be a comic artist!” A girl gangster pointed her gun at the man who’d first called out for my elimination.

“Annie what the f—”

“I wanna draw webtoons you fuck, that’s what! Cultivation can go fuck itself. I just wanna live my life,” shouted Annie, her face red.

Another gun joined her rebellion. “And I want to finish my studies and become a pharmacist!”

“And I don’t wanna die before I hit thousand subscribers on my Only F*ns!”

“I wanted to become a pro gamer!”

“Policeman!”

“Doctor!”

“Y*utuber!”

One by one, and often more than one, unabandoned wishes rang across the street, each louder than the last, until even the last gun was lowered by the now weeping boy.

“I… I thought we couldn’t… I wanted to become a florist…” He sobbed, collapsing. “Can I still become a florist?”

“You can,” I said, wondering if the one who wanted to become a doctor could help me back to Happyland Asylum.

Air clapped as two incredibly fast blurs of raven black landed before me. Both wore the cloaks and attires of Humming Blade cultivators. One was a tall man with a vulture’s features. The other a small woman reminiscent of a round black tit. Fresh and powerful Qi crackled about their feathers and talons. Bloodlust oozed from their glares.

“WHO DARES?” bellowed the girl with a voice thousand times her size.

People’s hope shriveled up.

“Who dares to raise their hand against the Humming Blade sect, after we graciously spared your miserable mortal lives, and allowed you to live in servitude?”

I moved my gaze from the cultivators to the crowd. “You’re a hundred to one.”

“B-but they killed over a hundred soldiers before,” dared Annie, the would-be webtoon artist.

“KILL HER AND THIS MAN AND YOUR PUNISHMENT WILL BE LENIENT.”

I spoke softly, for an Alpha’s voice needs not be shouted to be heard. “I wasn’t as strong as he, and I killed him. You too can do it. They had the advantage of surprise and positioning over the soldiers. They aren’t as far above mortals as it may seem. Only their cloaks are bulletproof...”

“THIS ONE ISSUES LAST WARNING—”

Barrels began to rise. Fear gave way to cold determination in the crowd.

I continued speaking over the cultivator’s screaming, “You have them surrounded in a kill-box. Aim for the chests, legs, and heads. One-two, even ten bullets may not stop them, but don’t falter. Keep on firing. They will drop before reaching you.”

“SO YOU HAVE CHOSEN DEATH!” The two cultivators bolted into motion, one’s claws poised to crack my skull, the other’s were bared at the crowd.

“Yeah, your deaths.” Annie was first to shoot.

Gunfire banged and flashed over the rain-drenched street. Bullets deflected off of feathers of the seemingly unharmed cultivators, but some bit into their flesh. Not as deep as they would’ve buried through a mortal, but, bit-by-bit, shot-by-shot, feathers began to loosen as lead was deposited in the softer spots of Qi-reinforced flesh.

After a second, their steps faltered. One fell, having caught a shot through her eye. The other pivoted on his feet and launched himself to air with his full power, intending to flee.

A hail of gunfire cut him down. The spindly vulture of a cultivator crashed through M*c Donalds roof and fell into the deep fryer, dead.

“WAHOO! WE GOTTEM!” People began jumping with joy, hooting and hollering at the scarlet sky, kissing, hugging, and crying.

I approved of the sight with a smile, nodded, and turned, beginning to hobble back to Happyland Asylum on my sign.

Part of the crowd ran after me.

“Chadman!”

“Mr. Chadman, thank you!”

“Someone help him! He’s hurt!”

I raised my hand to refuse the aid. “Just a scratch.”

“Please don’t be unreasonable Mr. Chadman. You saved us! Allow us to help!”

I shook my head. “You did the hard work. I gave you but a tiny nudge in the right direction. Remember what you did. Be proud of it. And the next time a cultivator comes knocking, shoot first.”

They swore that they would.

A small surge of Big-Dick energy generated by me walking away helped me make it to Happyland Asylum, where I was patched up, and immediately made a breakthrough, completing the Jaw Reformation Stage.

While recuperating from my injuries, I idly pondered what Nelly and the gang were up to.