Battle

The warehouse loomed before them, its skeletal structure a testament to the passage of time and the decay that had befallen this once-thriving corner of the city. As they stepped inside, the musty scent of disuse and dampness filled their nostrils, a pungent reminder of the building's long-forgotten purpose.

Ethan had transformed this space into a makeshift training ground, an arena in which he honed his burgeoning powers and practiced the moves that had made him a force to be reckoned with in the slums. The evidence of his efforts was everywhere: the scuffed floor, the dented metal beams, and the ripples of displaced air that still lingered like ghosts.

As they stood in the dim light that filtered through the broken windows, Ethan regarded Amelia with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He had many questions for her, but he decided to start with the most pressing one. "So, what exactly are your powers?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of apprehension.

Amelia's lips curled into
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