My Girlfriends Are Hardcore Yanderes - Chapter 89

Chapter 89: Built Differently
Asher glanced at her, the faint echo of their footsteps filling the empty hallway.

“So, do we have a plan? Or are we just wandering until something jumps out at us?”

Lucy folded her arms, her gaze drifting over the cracks in the plaster and the lingering chill in the air.

“If this is a specter’s work, it’ll find us soon enough—they’re not exactly subtle. But…”

She paused, a sly grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “We can speed things up.”

He raised a skeptical brow. “How do you plan that?”

Lucy didn’t answer.

Instead—

The air around her rippled with an intense, invisible force.

Power gathered at her fingertips. It vibrated with the intensity of an oncoming storm. Her hair was lifted by an invisible breeze, and her feet rose two inches off the ground.

She raised her hand slowly. ‘Tempest Rend!’ With a commanding wave, she unleashed a howling gale.

The wind tore through the hallway, wild and relentless.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Windows shattered into glittering shards, scattering across the floor. The walls buckled, plaster and paint peeling away as sections of the ceiling crumbled.

Furniture was hurled through the air like toys, crashing against walls with loud, jarring impacts.

“What are you doing?” Asher shouted, his voice barely cutting through the howling wind.

She shot him an expectant look. “Start destroying stuff.”

He’d expected a clever plan—not outright mayhem. Still, something about her bold actions was infectious.

With a shrug, he raised his hands, conjuring twelve basketball-sized fireballs.

Accuracy didn’t matter now; he could unleash as much as he wanted.

“Burn!” He released them all at once, and the flames surged forward, crashing into the opposite wall with a deafening roar.

The fire twisted and writhed through the air, consuming everything in its path.

Lucy’s grin widened as the destruction spread. “Now, that’s more like it.”

He didn’t hear her, too focused on refining his skills.

‘If we’re destroying the place, might as well make it worth it,’ he thought.

With renewed resolve, he saw this as an opportunity to create a new attack.

He raised his palm, summoning a massive sphere of flames. Its intense heat pulsed against his skin.

This time, he focused on compressing it, forcing the unruly fire into a denser, smaller form.

The pressure built, and the sphere wobbled on the verge of collapse, its edges flickering as if ready to detonate—an incredibly risky situation.

But he didn’t panic. Instead, he slipped into a hyper-focused state, his mind zeroing in on the problem.

He carefully considered the best approach to stabilize the volatile sphere.

The problem lay in the size of the flames he had started with.

When he conjured the fire, it had been too large, and compressing it only intensified the issue. As he tried to shrink the sphere, the flames’ molecules were forced closer together, increasing the density.

Fire, by nature, thrives on movement—molecules need space to vibrate and release energy. Compressing them packed the molecules too tightly, creating unstable pressure within the sphere

‘I need to find a way to isolate the sphere,’ he muttered to himself.

A memory flashed through his mind: Lucy’s earlier display. He recalled how she had summoned the wind, her control over it so precise, using it not just as a weapon but as a way to direct and contain her power.

Drawing inspiration, he summoned a swirling current of air.

At first, the wind was a gentle breeze, but as he concentrated, it began to intensify, forming a tight spiral around the unstable flames.

The air wrapped around the sphere in fluid, controlled motions, encasing it like a protective barrier.

He could feel the wind’s pressure gently pressing against the edges of the flame, not to extinguish it, but to aid in the compression process.

The air didn’t fight the fire; it worked in harmony with it, coaxing the energy into a contained, manageable form.

Wind formed a spiraling barrier, containing the fire’s volatile energy.

‘This works,’ he murmured.

The controlled interplay of the two elements pushed his abilities to new heights.

Lucy watched in disbelief as Asher combined fire and wind seamlessly, like it was second nature. ‘Dual element?’

Blending two elements wasn’t just difficult—it was almost impossible for beginners.

The supernatural world had strict rules about elemental magic. Each individual was born with a limited number of magic circuits—ethereal veins through which elemental energy flowed.

Using a single element was already taxing on the body; and attempting to wield two at once could easily cause overload.

Each element had to be carefully funneled through specific pathways to prevent a clash. It took years of training to master the delicate balance needed to wield multiple elements simultaneously without risking instability.

And yet, he wasn’t just doing it—he was excelling. His body seemed immune to the usual limitations, his circuits somehow balancing the opposing forces without strain.

Lucy’s mind raced. ‘Is he a godlike genius, or are his circuits different from everyone else’s?’

Oblivious to her racing thoughts, Asher perfected his new attack.

The compressed fireball glowed a searing yellow, its temperature climbing beyond 1,200 degrees Celsius. The heat rippled outward, warping and searing the air around him.

“Ignite!” he commanded, sending the orb shooting forward with the added force of the wind .

Lucy’s eyes widened. “Not good!”

She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him out of the building, hurling them both through a shattered window.

BOOM!

They crashed through just as the explosion erupted.

BOOM!

BOOM!

The detonation was catastrophic. Flames consumed the hallway, and the shockwave obliterated the walls, sending concrete and debris flying.

Dust filled the air, swirling like a thick fog in the aftermath of the explosion, while one portion of the building creaked and groaned, its frame wobbling under the immense pressure.

Asher coughed, waving a hand to clear the smoke.

“I think I overdid it,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

“You think?” Lucy shot him a sharp look, though a smirk tugged at her lips.

She was genuinely impressed by the power of his attack—he had shattered her expectations once again.

“Nice —”

Before she could say more, a chilling, unnatural sound cut through the air—a high-pitched scream that reverberated from the ruins, echoing like the mournful cry of a thousand voices.

They quickly snapped into defensive stances, senses sharpening as they braced for whatever came next.

From the crumbling debris, a figure emerged, its form blurry at first, but slowly going into focus.

The figure was a man—if he could still be called that. His skin was ghostly pale, stretched tight over his bones like parchment.

Hollow, blackened eyes stared back at them, void of emotion but brimming with malice.

His mouth stretched into a grotesque grin, far too wide to be natural.

He wore a tattered janitor’s uniform, the fabric stained and frayed. In his bony hand, he clutched an old mop, its wet, frayed ends dragging ominously along the ground.

Asher broke the silence. “Told you it wasn’t a woman.”

Lucy didn’t respond. Her eyes remained locked on the specter, every fiber of her being on high alert.

Whatever they had unleashed—it wasn’t going down without a fight.