In a heartbeat, after the sniper's bullet stole his breath and darkness swallowed the world whole, Mystic snapped back to life on the cracked wooden chair of the empty classroom.
His lungs dragged in air, each breath coming in desperate, ragged gulps as though he'd been pulled from the depths of a drowning sea. His loop power had hurled him backward mere minutes, wrenching his soul into the present with the violent snap of a frayed elastic.
He lurched upright, his hands gripping the edges of the chair as blood thundered through his skull, a white-hot blade seemed to split his temples, forcing his eyes shut as the classroom tilted around him.
The room remained an empty shell beneath the ashen glow of dawn, sunlight filtering through grimy blinds. The silence was suffocating, no footsteps, no Mr. Summers, not even the distant chatter of students since break time was still underway.
His head jerked from side to side, fingers digging into his scalp until his nails scraped against the skin, his eyes darted across the classroom, searching for something familiar, something that could convince him this wasn't another illusion, four deaths.
His heart had stopped beating four times, each death had dragged him backward, only to leave him trapped in another fragile moment of existence.
His shoulders convulsed as air scraped through his throat in uneven bursts, sweat ran down his face while his knees buckled beneath him.
He collapsed onto the icy linoleum, palms pressed against his temples, and tears spilled freely down his cheeks, his chest heaved with each sob, his mouth opening and closing as though he couldn't draw enough air into his lungs.
The pain from his fourth death drowned out everything else, his fingers trembled against the floor, his teeth clenched until his jaw ached.
It was sharper than steel, deeper than bone, an unbearable sensation that seemed to tear through his nerves and bore directly into his mind, even the memory of the bullet entering his skull made his entire body recoil.
"What the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK!" Mystic muttered, agony felt.
His fingers raked across his scalp, catching strands of hair as he searched for the wound that wasn't there.
Perspiration trickled down his temples and soaked into his collar as he pressed both hands against his head, his fingertips digging deeper with every passing second, yet the invisible rupture continued to throb beneath his skin.
His breathing turned into a low, strained growl, every muscle in his body tightened, and his bloodshot eyes darted between the corners of the classroom, his hand repeatedly snapped back to his temple, pressing against it with enough force to make his fingers ache but nothing changed, the pain remained, pulsing with every beat of his heart.
"I'll find you... I'll find you bastard. I'll hunt you down and rip you apart, limb from limb." He muttered, slamming his head down on the desk over and over again.
Blood trickled from his forehead, staining the wooden surface beneath him, his skin had split from the repeated impacts, but he barely seemed to notice, his hands kept dragging his head back before smashing it against the desk again.
Four deaths had already brought him to this point, and another three hundred and ninety-six awaited him before his final death.
Yet the pain refused to loosen its grip, the phantom gunshot continuing to crackle through his skull regardless of the damage he inflicted upon himself.
"Mystic, chill. CHILL THE FUCK OUT!!!"
Visual's voice rang through the classroom entrance, his footsteps pounded against the floor as he rushed toward Mystic, grabbed him around the torso, and hurled him away from the desk. Mystic struck the floor, but Visual followed immediately, pinning his arms down before he could reach his head again.
He tightened his grip as Mystic twisted beneath him, his eyes widening at the blood smeared across the desk. He had never seen Mystic behave like this as only minutes earlier, the boy had been perfectly fine, yet now he was thrashing beneath him, his face drenched in sweat and tears.
"Get a hold of yourself. You were just fine a few minutes ago and now you gone psycho in the middle of Mr. Summers classroom." Visual muttered.
"Let go of me. LET GO. LET ME GO I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING" Mystic shouted causing more people and Mr. Summers to enter the room.
The teacher hurried between them, pulling Visual away before helping Mystic to his feet, his gaze fell upon the blood smeared across the wooden desk, and the colour drained from his face. Above them, the classroom lights flickered, briefly casting the students' frightened faces into alternating darkness and pale illumination.
Mystic stood without resistance, his arms hanging loosely at his sides but nobody could see what he had experienced. Every death, every moment of agony, disappeared from their memories when his power dragged him backward.
His gaze slowly dropped to his left hand, a thin stream of blood slipped between his fingers before more followed, dripping onto the floor, the skin appeared to sink inward, its shape becoming increasingly distorted as his fingers trembled.
He tightened his right hand around his wrist, staring at the deformity while the surrounding students shifted away from him.
"Look at his left hand, it looks like its tearing itself apart." One student muttered, nodding to his friends.
"Mystic, what's happening to your hand?" Visual asked, backing up a bit.
The skin wasn't the problem as beneath it, the bone itself was disappearing, vanishing piece by piece as though something were consuming it from within.
Mystic's eyes narrowed, he already knew what had caused it, his fourth death had come with another price, and his left hand was paying for it.
Without wasting another second, he reached into his equipment kit with his uninjured right hand and pulled out a collection of expensive, highly advanced components designed to channel kinetic energy.
He gripped a screwdriver and drove its edge into the damaged flesh, tearing it open to expose what remained beneath, his expression barely changed as he worked, even while blood ran down his wrist.
With painstaking movements, he positioned the mechanical components inside his hand, connecting the artificial bone to the remaining structure and integrating it with his nervous system.
"Everyone stay the fuck back," Mystic shouted as everyone actually backed off.
Violet light spilled from the components, spreading across the classroom walls and illuminating the faces gathered around him, his fingers twitched once, then curled inward.
A second later, his wrist rotated, and the kinetic energy coursing through the artificial structure responded to his movements.
The transformation was complete, his left hand was no longer entirely human as a mechanical, cybotic replacement now occupied its place, its internal components humming with kinetic energy that he could wield against the Yandere Killer group.
"Mysti are you in here." A voice said appearing outside of the classroom, it was a familiar voice appearing from outside.
Luna stood at the entrance, having returned to school after a week away and the moment her eyes settled on Mystic, her expression shifted.
Her gaze travelled from the blood on the floor to the ruined desk, then settled on his exposed mechanical hand.
The cheerful curve of her lips disappeared, her fingers curled against her palms, and her eyes remained fixed on the boy as though everything else in the classroom had ceased to exist.
"Who did this to you!?" She asked, tilting her head obsessively.
Her head remained tilted as her pale eyes followed every movement Mystic made, her lips parted slightly, and her fingers twitched at her sides, almost as though she were resisting the urge to reach for him.
The sight of his blood seemed to have erased every trace of warmth from her expression, her gaze moved briefly toward the other students before snapping back to Mystic, her attention narrowing until he was the only person that mattered, a smile threatened to return, but there was something terribly wrong about the way her eyes lingered on his injuries.
"It's nothing besides the wound is all fixed up." He explained, backing up a little but Luna followed the steps like a possessive puppy.
"WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?"