---
[Bond Instability Rising]
[Glitch Level 82%]
"No, no, no... I have to hurry and find that thing before it starts going haywire!"
Vicky was getting more anxious by the second, weaving through the bustling market crowd as she tried to pinpoint the signal of her stolen tech—and Adam.
She darted her eyes left and right, scanning for anyone with scruffy white hair. But it was no use. There were too many people. Too much noise. Too much interference.
"I have to hurry..." she muttered again, biting her lip as her pace quickened.
---
Joe dragged Adam by the collar down a narrow alley behind one of the shops—where fewer eyes were watching. He hurled Adam against the wall like a sack of garbage. Adam crashed into a pile of trash bags, his body folding awkwardly with a dull thud.
"I already told you... I don't have it," Adam groaned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Pain erupted in his ribs as George—the skinny one—drove a savage kick into his side. Adam gasped, coughing, each breath like needles scraping his lungs.
'How many times am I going to get jumped like this?' he thought bitterly.
"Think you're so smart, huh?" George sneered, grinding his boot down on Adam's cheek as he writhed on the floor. "Where's the goddamn phone, you rat?"
"That's enough. Leave him to me," Joe said coldly, stepping forward. He yanked Adam upright with one arm. Joe's hand was massive, almost engulfing Adam's entire face as he lifted him off the ground.
"I'll ask you one more time..." he whispered, dangerously calm.
"...Where. Is. The phone?"
Adam's eyes burned. His ribs throbbed. But he clenched his teeth and smirked through the blood.
"Gah—are you deaf? I told you, I don't have it."
That was it. Joe's temper hit a boiling point. His hand tightened around Adam's collar as he pulled back his fist. The blow came crashing toward Adam's face—slow, yet brutal. Almost like time hiccupped.
[GhostFrame Activated]
The world blinked.
Joe's fist passed clean through Adam's chest.
Colors dimmed. The air distorted like heat waves on pavement. Time fractured.
Adam pivoted on instinct, grabbing Joe's extended arm mid-punch and yanking it forward. Joe stumbled—his wide eyes full of confusion—as Adam drove a knee into his gut.
Wham!
Joe staggered back, grunting, clutching his stomach as he dropped to one knee.
"What... the hell was that?" he gasped.
Just moments ago, he had Adam pinned to the wall. Now, he was the one gasping for breath.
A few nearby shoppers glanced toward the commotion, but as usual in Cradle City, they minded their business and walked away.
Except for one.
A man stood silently near the edge of the crowd, half-shrouded in the shadow of a storefront. He wore an urban-style trench coat, hood pulled low, and a sleek mask with glowing blue eyes.
"He's... growing," the figure whispered, eyes fixed on Adam.
Adam stood still, gasping, every nerve in his body lit up. What the hell just happened? His body... it had moved on its own.
The shimmering aura around him faded.
"Oh s*it! Dude, you okay?" George called out, checking on Joe.
"I'm fine!" Joe snapped. "He just caught me off guard!"
Adam gritted his teeth. He wasn't much of a fighter, and his stats weren't built for power. Most of his points had gone into Speed—and right now, he was starting to regret that choice.
Joe stood up again, brushing off his jacket like nothing had happened, still nursing his gut.
Adam patted his pockets.
His eyes widened.
'Where is it?'
Panic set in.
"Oh, you looking for this?" George dangled the cylindrical gadget in the air, grinning.
"Oooh, would you look at that. Not every day you find one of these, huh? Hahahaha!"
"Consider this a trade," Joe added with a sneer.
Adam clenched his fists, stepping into a loose fighting stance. He was hurting, outnumbered, and out of shape—but he couldn't let Vicky's machine fall into the hands of these two idiots.
"If you want it..." Joe spread his arms wide, grinning darkly.
"...Come and take it."
Both thugs rushed him.
Adam knew he wasn't srrong, but maybe he did'n't have to be. Not when he had the speed to make up for it
He reacted fast, grabbing a nearby trash can lid and hurling it into Joe's face with a loud clang!
George kept coming, cocking back a punch.
Adam ducked low and countered, driving his fist into George's gut in a clean, fluid motion.
But George barely flinched.
Adam's strike lacked power. Desperate, he shoved the skinny man into the wall with everything he had.
"GAAHHH!" Joe barreled toward him, both fists raised.
*[Cooldown Reset]
[GhostFrame Activated]
The world blinked again.
The air shimmered. Time fractured.
Joe's fists sliced through Adam's ghostly silhouette and smashed into the concrete.
"That was close..." Adam staggered back, sweat trickling down his cheek. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. The skill wouldn't last forever. Every second counted.
Then—
Snap!
George leapt from behind, wrapping his arms around Adam's throat. He pressed the cylindrical device hard against his neck, cutting off his air.
"Gghh—!" Adam struggled, choking, clawing at George's arms.
The GhostFrame was on cooldown. He was vulnerable.
Crack!
A punch slammed into Adam's face.
His body hit the ground like a bag of bricks. Vision blurred. Blood in his mouth. His limbs felt like lead.
He couldn't move.
Why is it always like this? Why is trouble always looking for me?
"That's what you get, you filthy street rat."
Joe loomed over him, his grin wide and cruel.
George handed him the device. Joe inspected it with the awe of someone holding a treasure chest.
"Heheh... Now that we've got our hands on this engine core, we can sell it off for a fortune."
George laughed hysterically.
"Even if it doesn't work, the parts alone could make us rich!"
The two turned to leave, giddy with excitement. The market was still open—they could flip it within the hour.
But then they stopped.
Just a few paces ahead, a tall hooded figure blocked the exit of the alley.
His face was hidden. Only the eerie glow of his blue eyes pierced through the shadows. His presence made the air feel heavier, like gravity itself had thickened.
Hands still in his pockets, he took one slow step forward.
"That doesn't belong to you?"