The ground trembled even before Asap woke up.
He was flat on his stomach in damp sand, breathing quick and light, tiny bits stuck to his arms like the sea refused to release him. Water surged over his body, sharp and chilly, jerking his eyelids wide. Air rushed into his lungs - salty, rusty, raw.
Above him, stars lit up the dark - bright, sharp flashes painting the black.
Light spilled across the sky in ribbons of blue, then pink - huge holograms hovered above, ads drifted on air currents, while thick smog lit up dull red, almost like dying coals from some far-off world. Past the shore, the city hummed, stretched upward, packed tight with shiny towers linked by flashing signs. They blinked in waves, timed just right, kind of like how a machine might breathe.
For a moment, Asap just froze.
His thoughts were broken - fuzzy, pieces of moments floating loose, feelings that didn't fit anywhere. Then the impact. Saltwater filling his mouth. Ripoff's voice bouncing off the surf. After that… nothing. Yet now he sat: drenched rags clinging from the tide, grit stuck to skin like old paint on forgotten stone.
In a sluggish fog, Asap dragged himself up onto his knees.
A pale blue flicker snapped from his fingers.
He stiffened. A small flash zapped across his arm, slipping toward his hand - little jolts that didn't hurt but felt oddly hot. His breathing snagged as a weird tightness built in his chest. Everything got hazy for a second. Within that haze, an image jumped into view:
A couple of old gloves used for fighting - beat-up from too many rounds.
Worn leather. With a few faint marks.
The stuff he had when growing up.
He blinked.
The gloves stayed right there.
They showed up - clear, actual - fixed to his palms as if they'd never left. After that, the glow hit: a flickering cyan beat, moving like vapor, curling along his forearms, drifting from his collarbones.
Asap staggered back.
"What… is happening to me?"
His heart pounded weirdly - almost like it was matching some old force deep within. City lights flared up his glow, making it crisper. Energy buzzed through him, similar to a tune he'd heard before but couldn't name.
Out of nowhere, a noise popped up.
BOOOOM.
A blast ripped through the shore. Grains flew up, shaking in waves. In the sky, strange crafts blinked into view - shiny metal circles, whirling like tops, flashing sharp red beams onto roads. From inside, robot figures jumped out, hitting the ground so hard it split.
Sirens screamed inside the glowing mist.
Buildings trembled under shellfire. Blasts tore through streets, sending people running - utter pandemonium. Calculated, fierce, unrelenting.
The attack was already underway.
Yet Asap - shivering, soaked from the ocean - just stood there, staring, like someone who'd shown up where they didn't belong when everything was ending.
A second blast ripped through the shore. His body stiffened. Not logic - pure instinct took over. In one raw motion, he dropped down, electric-blue flashes leaping up from the ground under him -
Then FWOOOM—
He shot up toward the clouds.
The world turned into streaks of glowing color and spinning mist. Despite the wind howling by, he held firm - floating smooth, as if he'd always known how to ride the air. His glow grew sharper, blazing now, a deep blue fire wrapping every inch of him.
Down below, a massive silver machine pointed its gun skyward. Then came a flash - a blazing red streak powering up
Asap didn't hesitate.
He fell outta nowhere - just like a shell from above.
His fist slammed into the robot's head - metal crumpled fast, then shattered. It collapsed like junk in a crusher. Bright sparks rained down on the road. One chopped-off arm spun through the crossroads. That punch gouged the ground, leaving a mark like a burst star.
Asap glared at his clenched hand, breath coming fast - not scared, yet puzzled. His heart pounded, though he couldn't name why - just a hollow mix of doubt and surprise pulling him under.
"When did I get this strong…?"
Just as he started thinking it through, out of the glowing haze came a voice he knew.
"Trash! You'll never win!"
Ripoff.
A shrill, whiny tone burst from a device tucked inside the broken machine's pieces. That noise sent chills down Asap's spine.
"You hear me, kid? YOU AREN'T SPECIAL! YOU'RE JUST—"
Asap's aura flared.
The communicator melted.
He never laid a hand on it.
Yet as he glanced around, Ripoff's vessels had vanished. The flying objects zipped over buildings, chasing a target - some unknown thing they couldn't lock onto.
Because Asap was… invisible to them?
Or going way too quick?
Or something deeper?
He didn't know.
He just couldn't bother anymore.
A fresh swarm of machines slammed into the dirt near him. The earth shook hard. Vehicles tumbled sideways thanks to the blast waves. Yet a shift clicked deep within - no programming, no training, nothing learned before. Just pure ancient impulse.
Energy.
It was hitting him now.
He had a way to keep it in check.
Blue sparks slithered over him, twitching like wires alive. Muscles locked up suddenly. Breathing grew heavy, slow. Eyes lit up - cold blue light bouncing off walls, glass, pavement nearby.
And then—he moved.
Nothing like a person.
Nothing close to someone unreal.
He vanished.
One blink.
Two blinks.
One after another, bots went up in flashes - bits of steel flying everywhere, thick fumes curling from broken arms, bodies caving fast. Asap ripped past each wreck like wind cutting through still air. Each hit cracked louder than thunder. Each strike hit like pressure bursting outward.
His feet hit the earth - he hardly noticed.
He hardly noticed a thing.
Time melted from seconds into flashes.
Once the noise faded from the block, glowing signs blinked through thickening fumes. Smoke carried a sharp scent - overheated wires mixed with engine grease. He let out a heavy breath, fighting to slow his pulse. Energy around him sparked unevenly, twitching like faulty current, reacting to some force deep within he couldn't tame.
After that, he spotted himself in the glass.
A broken phone sat left behind by a smashed shop window. The damaged display blinked - part dark, part lit - barely showing his reflection.
He knelt slowly.
His hair seemed off somehow. Not just a little - way more intense, like his eyes were lit from inside, giving me chills. The angle of his face felt harder now, sliced clean. It wasn't just the look - it was the weight behind it. Like years had piled on overnight.
He grabbed toward the display.
"…Is that… me?"
A shiver ran down his spine - no panic, just knowing. The world didn't only shift nearby. He shifted too. Each fight. Each burst. Every hit taken or thrown. It bent him differently. Remade him from within.
Hours felt different now.
Time dragged on slow. Weeks slipped by without notice.
Weeks into months.
The city pieced itself back together bit by bit while fighting dragged on. People got used to the mess - quicker, rougher, more numb. Neon stayed bright no matter what. Nights always hummed with noise. Yet Asap… moved through everything like a shadow.
He barely slept.
Didn't talk much.
Didn't belong anywhere.
Sometimes he came to on rooftops. Other times, in alleyways. Now and then, inside hollowed-out buildings - ones he'd wrecked without meaning to during fights against Ripoff's gadgets.
Every time, his strength seemed unlike before.
Stronger.
But heavier.
The blue glow didn't flicker anymore - it surged, calm but sharp. Folks hushed as he walked by. A few gestured. Others grew uneasy. He made them nervous.
He'd grown older - just not in body, more so within his gaze.
Eyes that didn't seem young anymore.
Eyes worn from seeing everything fall apart.
By the fourteenth week of battle, he was perched on a broken skyscraper - wind pulling at his jacket. Light from neon signs shimmered across his glow, kind of like shattered stars.
He murmured toward the quiet heavens:
"…How much more can I take?"
Still nothing came back.
Only the hum of drones circling far off, then echoes from fights happening who-knows-where, while the burden of a planet he didn't choose to fix settles heavy on him.
Asap shut his eyes tight.
The glow faded slowly.
He was breathing slowly, like he didn't have much energy left.
Yet way down inside that tiredness…
something else sparked.
Not weakness.
Not defeat.
Not fear.
Resolve.
The fight still hadn't ended.
Ripoff wasn't finished.
The robot mind running the attack kept pulling tighter on the world.
Though tired, worn, yet still on his feet, Asap kept pushing through.
The glow-streaked breeze rushed by, dragging the smell of fried wires with a hint of wet pavement.
His aura pulsed.