The world didn't slow. It shattered.
The gunshot exploded like thunder, but Johnathan saw the bullet moving—floating—cutting the air in a curved line. The metal reflected a warped glimmer of streetlight, spinning so slowly that he could count its rotations. Each twist felt unreal, like watching a raindrop frozen mid-fall. The wind shifted, carrying the scent of burning gunpowder directly into his nostrils. Lydia gasped beside him, her eyes wide with horror, yet even her reaction seemed locked in syrup, stretched out as though time itself was struggling to breathe.
Jonathan's body refused to obey panic. He stood still, mesmerized, watching death approach the center of his forehead. His chest tensed with a brutal throb, harder than fear, stronger than instinct. The DestralCore Seal pulsed beneath his sternum, not with heat this time, but with an invisible force that rippled through his organs, scraping at his nerves and spine. The pulse was silent, but Johnathan felt it like a heartbeat in a broken universe.
Then the world snapped forward. His body jerked to the side before his mind even registered movement. Muscles tightened in a blur, his leg pushing against the pavement so violently that cracks spider-webbed beneath his foot. The bullet skimmed past his skin, slicing only a shallow cut along his cheek. Blood misted into the air, glittering like red dust as time resumed its normal pace.
The gunman cursed loudly from above the overpass. More shots echoed from different directions. Chaos erupted. Lydia's operatives broke formation instantly, moving like trained wolves. One tackled Johnathan behind a rusted metal barrier while another raised a compact rifle toward the rooftops. "Multiple shooters! Six to eight! Spread formation!"
Lydia stepped into the open with terrifying confidence, her silver hair whipping in the wind, coat flowing behind her like a banner. She gave a single signal. At once, the operatives formed a tight defensive line around Jonathan, but the protective wall was immediately under fire. Bullets ricocheted off cars, concrete, and metal rails. Sparks lit the night like miniature fireworks.
Johnathan barely understood what was happening. He could hear the whistle of bullets, the clash of shoes against gravel, even Lydia's breath from three meters away. His hearing stretched like rubber, overstimulated, absorbing every detail too sharply. He could smell heat, adrenaline, coppery blood. His vision zoomed in and out like a faulty camera, eyes flicking to distant rooftops where black-shapes crouched behind scopes. Time wasn't slowing anymore, but his senses weren't normal either. They were too open, too aware.
One shooter switched weapons, the light glinting off a silenced barrel. Johnathan reacted without thinking, twisting his torso in a jerky dodge. Another shot missed him by a hair. His body moved before he could even feel afraid. Lydia shouted over the storm of gunfire, "Your seal is partially awakened, your mind can't keep up yet! Don't fight the instincts just move!"
Johnathan didn't know how. His limbs seemed to know before he did. A gunman from the right fired a burst of three bullets. Johnathan fell backwards, not because he chose to but because something inside him yanked his muscles like strings. His hand shot out to break his fall, smashing into the concrete. A small crater formed beneath his palm. Dust exploded upward. His fingers throbbed, but he couldn't feel pain clearly only pressure, vibration, and raw force.
Three more assassins appeared on the far rooftop, faces hidden by masks, moving like shadows trained for war. Lydia's operatives fired back from behind a flipped sedan, but the assassins kept advancing, positioning, communicating with silent hand signals. Jonathan's pulse hammered in his ears, his breath deepening against his will, every inhale stretching his lungs like they were expanding past their normal limits.
He felt something else too, a tide in his head, a throb behind his eyes. The world brightened in a painful flash. The headlights of distant cars turned blinding. The neon signs against the cliffside highway flickered like exploding stars. His brain felt like it was overheating, thoughts drowning in buzzing static. His heart pushed against his ribs with a brutal force, each beat threatening to crack bone from the inside. His legs trembled from the energy that had nowhere to go.
One assassin leaped down from the rooftop railing, landing with a soft thud. He sprinted toward Johnathan with a short blade glinting in hand. Johnathan felt the attack before the motion even happened. His body pivoted on its own and a surge of energy burst from his palm, a pulse like the one underwater but more controlled, more violent. The air rippled outward, and the assassin flew backwards as if hit by a speeding car, crashing into a parked motorcycle that shattered beneath him.
The pulses stopped abruptly, leaving Johnathan disoriented. The noise in his skull grew louder. His head felt too small for the power spilling into it. He collapsed to his knees, gripping his temples, gasping for air that tasted oddly metallic. Lydia's voice came through his dizziness, sharp and commanding. "Don't try to think! Your consciousness isn't synced yet! Stay down!"
Johnathan couldn't respond. His vision blurred into smeared colors. His tongue numbed. His throat tightened, the taste of copper thickening. His hands shook uncontrollably. Lydia rushed to him and grabbed his arm. "We're leaving now! All units retreat to Safe House Theta! Full blackout protocol!"
The operatives closed in around them, moving as a protective formation. Smoke grenades exploded across the street, flooding the area with thick gray clouds. Gunfire continued, but the assassins lost sight, shouting in frustration as visibility collapsed. One operative shoved Johnathan into the backseat of a black armored vehicle while Lydia barked coordinates over a secure radio.
Johnathan tried to sit upright, but the world twisted. His muscles twitched in overload, twitching like wires burning from too much current. The interior lights blurred into streaks, and even Lydia's voice sounded distant, muffled through water.
Warm darkness crept over him. His eyelids sank. The pain faded into a heavy numbness, dragging his thoughts under. Just as unconsciousness pulled him down, something whispered inside his mind. The voice was cold, smooth, and echoing like a digital transmission resonating through bone.
"Host detected. Synchronization beginning."
Johnathan tried to answer, but sleep swallowed him whole.