This work is entirely fictional. The characters, situations, and events described are products of the author's imagination and are used solely for narrative, creative, and entertainment purposes.
It is not intended to depict real events or to encourage illegal, dangerous, or inappropriate behavior.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This text is also part of the author's learning and writing training exercise.
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The orange light of sunset was still filtering through the blinds when Jhon finished checking the last gacha cards. His fingers trembled a bit, not from fear but from adrenaline. In the floating interface, new data appeared as if carved in liquid crystal:
Name: Jhon Ariza Montoza
Gacha Points (1/30)
Purchased: 40
Race: \[Human]
Character Assimilation:
– Jason Todd: 3%
– Loki (Earth 199999): 1%
Summoned Characters: None
Powers: – Stand: Echoes ACT1
Equipped Items: – (empty)
"Mm, even though they're theoretically good characters, if I go to other Multiversal worlds being at most a human, and Hulk's punching bag, I'll end up screwed." That's what I used to think, but after chewing on it mentally, I realized I can't be a damn coward. How am I supposed to grow stronger if I run from danger?… Now, it's not like with that thought I suddenly become a Chad prototype; growing is going to be hard.
"My head's already starting to ache," I muttered with a sigh while running a hand through my hair.
Anyway, better start looking up info about what I just pulled. I guess that's what sets me apart from the reincarnated: information.
I got up from the sofa, already molded to my butt from so much sitting and standing.
I walked to the laptop on the study table and turned it on.
I typed in my security password. Then I went to search about the Stand.
Several wikis popped up; I clicked the most popular one and got the info:
Echoes is Koichi Hirose's Stand.
* Form ACT1 is the first manifestation of the Stand Echoes. It manifests after emerging from an egg.
* It's a long-range Stand. Koichi can use it up to about 50 meters away from himself.
However, it's quite weak: its punch strength doesn't do significant damage, it's slow, and it doesn't have much stamina or endurance.
* Its special power is generating sounds by writing words on surfaces or people. If what it writes is an onomatopoeia (in katakana), it produces a sound related to that word. If it's a phrase or sentence in kanji, it can affect the person's mental state: persuade, convince, even alter emotions.
* It can write directly on the person ("on them") or on nearby objects/surfaces, which determines the intensity of the effect. The longer it's active and the more directly the target is touched, the stronger it can feel.
* It has limitations: strong will can resist the effects of the written texts/words. Also, it evolves: ACT1 can then transform into ACT2, which has improved abilities.
"Well, I expected more," I was a bit disappointed. I didn't know much about Jojo, so I thought the Stand was broken. Guess not everything's roses.
But I could remove a weakness with the consumable cards, though I don't know if the ones I have are enough. I could also increase the power of the ability, but if I don't eliminate the weakness, I don't know what effects it'll have.
Jason is someone with strong will; dying and reviving would drive anyone crazy. Or did he go crazy? I don't really know; I should've watched the shows.
If I'm right, I have pretty strong will now, even if I can't quantify it, and in the future it'll improve.
"All right, let's continue."
It's action time; I set out to test the Stand.
Moving away from the laptop, I stayed still for a moment, breathing deeply. The screen still flickered in my mind with everything I'd read about Echoes ACT1.
A weak Stand, I guess. Limited. Fragile. But it's what I've got for now.
"We'll see how it is," I murmured, snapping the laptop shut.
The dry click echoed in the dim room. The sofa still bore the imprint of my body from hours sitting, and the table was littered with crumpled papers and fast-food wrappers. I walked barefoot across the cold floor to the center of the room.
The air was still, heavy, as if even the city outside was waiting for something.
I raised my hand awkwardly, as if that gesture alone was enough to summon something I only knew in theory. A strange tingling ran through my wrist, a vibration that wasn't mine. Goosebumps rose on my skin.
"Come on, show yourself…" I whispered, clenching my teeth.
A faint crackle, like static electricity, brushed my ear. And then I saw it.
Behind me, blurry at first like a badly drawn shadow, it appeared.
Small, hunched, with that hybrid look between insect and machine. Its greenish body glimmered faintly under the apartment's artificial light. Letters floated around it, signs like graffiti suspended in the air, and its head seemed to look at me even though it didn't have human eyes.
"Echoes…" The word came out with a smile; I didn't think I'd be this excited.
Sure, I've got my nerdy side, but usually what I read is fanfics and novels; I left anime years ago. Apparently habits don't die completely.
The Stand watched me, expectant, as if waiting for my order. And me… truth is I had no idea how to talk to it.
"How awkward," I murmured, looking away from Echoes. It's a bit weird seeing an almost-insect thing above your head; if not for its expectant look, I'd probably grab a bug spray.
Remembering what I saw on the wiki, I began to do the action to activate it:
I went over to the table and grabbed a random sheet of paper. I took out a marker and, with a trembling hand, wrote in big letters: "BANG."
"Let's see if this works…"
The Stand extended a claw and touched the sheet. The air suddenly vibrated.
BANG!
The sound boomed through the room like a real gunshot. The empty glass on the table jumped and rolled onto the floor. My heart raced; my ears rang.
"Damn!" I clutched my chest, panting.
The echo faded, but the memory of the noise still resonated in my bones.
I looked back at the Stand and, as if a lightbulb went off, my mind thought of the possibilities.
"Damn it, in the future this could turn into a prototype of reality manipulation."
I took a deep breath to calm down, but it wasn't very effective.
AC2 produces sensory effects associated with the written word, not just sounds like AC1. It's likely that if I use the Power Boost card, AC2 improves.
AC3 becomes more physical; it's no longer just the previous two, but physically influences with the word expressed.
Now imagine, if I keep improving it so that it's no longer just slight physical changes but to the point where I can say aloud "DIE" and the bastard dies body and soul — will it still look weak?
"But better stop imagining things so far off," I thought with a sigh. Getting too hyped over something isn't always good; it can make you mess up in the process. I need to think with a cool head.
And at the right time, that power could be more dangerous than the Wiki said.
"But weak? Weak my balls…" I said with a nervous smile.
"Well, they're not weak either."
After testing the Stand, I made it go back. Where does it disappear to after I tell it to go? I speculate into the soul. If it even has a space to store things.
Watching it vanish but still with my chest a bit tight from the BANG's resonance, I raised my hand to the floating interface. Among the glowing icons, I picked a different card:
[Basic Alchemy Book – Fullmetal Alchemist]
I touched it with my fingertip and, as if a fold opened in the air, a bluish-white flash burst in front of me. Immediately, a heavy dark-covered tome, with metallic engravings and a raised transmutation circle, slowly descended to hover over my hands.
The book felt real, rough, smelling of old paper and dry ink. I opened it, and the pages were full of diagrams, formulas, symbols and marginal notes.
As I read, the words weren't just text: they embedded themselves in my mind as if an invisible teacher whispered explanations in my ear.
Alchemy (錬金術, Renkinjutsu): the mystic science capable of understanding, destroying and reconstructing matter.
Understanding: recognizing the molecular or atomic composition of what's in front of you.
Destruction: dismantling its structure.
Reconstruction: reassembling it into another form, using the same matter.
And most important: The Principle of Equivalent Exchange. Nothing comes from nothing. To create something, you must give up something of equal value.
I flipped the pages quickly; each paragraph gave me a stab of excitement. There were basic exercises: move earth, harden stone, manipulate soft metals. Nothing compared to Edward Elric's feats, but it was a start.
I remembered a detail from forums and videos I'd seen: many thought alchemy could only be done with gloves, circles or symbols. And that's true… up to a point. The transmutation circle is the interface, the bridge to channel the energy. Without it, it's impossible to guide the flow. Edward could do it with his hands because he'd had contact with the "Gate of Truth." Me, on the other hand, I needed to start from zero: learn the circles, memorize them, practice them.
"So… it won't be that easy. Even though I knew I had to get a lot of knowledge about each element's composition, I thought at least this book would give me that info," I murmured, touching the relief of a basic circle engraved in the book. "It's theory, understanding and practice. This really will be years of work. Unless I get a smart character."
I closed the tome with a sharp thud and the interface vibrated again, showing the next card
[Enchanted Short Sword +1 – Dungeons & Dragons]
The air split with a metallic shimmer. In front of me appeared a short sword with a blade about 60 cm long. It wasn't ostentatious, but it was elegant: polished steel with an edge that seemed to drink in the light, a simple cross-shaped guard, and a pommel with a small blue gem embedded.
I held it and immediately felt the perfect weight in my hand—neither light like a toy nor heavy like an ornament. The system catalogued it as +1, which meant more than just a sharp edge:
It was more resistant than common steel.
Its edge remained intact.
And each strike carried a slight magical reinforcement, increasing its ability to pierce defenses or block attacks.
It wasn't a legendary sword, but for a human in a "normal" world with a half-useless Stand and an impossible theory book, it was an invaluable tool.
The interface glowed again, showing that the rest of the cards obtained had been automatically stored in the second tab of the holographic inventory. An endless list awaited there, in pale gray, waiting for the moment to be used.
I sighed, looking at the book on the table and the sword in my hand.
"Fine, I've got time to look at this later, better go see the petal at her place," I said out loud as the sword and the book disappeared, returning to the inventory.
I patted my thighs and stood up.
I stretched and walked to the bathroom. I needed to clear my head before going to Miriam's. The cold floor cracked beneath my bare feet.
When I turned on the light, the mirror gave back a different image. The dark circles that had accompanied him for months had almost completely disappeared. His skin had a more even tone; my sunburned skin was improving a bit—not much, but noticeable—and below the neck, on the shoulders, he noticed small muscular ridges that hadn't been there before: hard, defined fibers like someone who trains every muscle of the body. He leaned forward and turned a bit to check it wasn't an illusion.
"I thought the assimilation would take longer to have an effect, but I'm already noticing the changes," said Jhon, looking at himself and running his hands over the slight muscular changes.
"Meh. Whatever. Even though you can see changes, I don't feel any kind of information about how to kill people. I guess I have to wait."
Smiling at what he was about to do, he did it:
He raised his hand and with a "majestic" face said: "Mortals, bow before Loki, king of Asgard and future king of Midgard."
He moved his hands forward while making a strained face, as if he hadn't taken a dump in a week.
"…"
Nothing, nothing happened.
"Ahem, good thing I live alone."
"Must be because I'm at one percent…" he huffed, resigned, and stepped into the shower.
The hot water hit his nape and eased the tension. In the distance, from the living room, came the sound of the television he had left on. He turned the volume up a bit with the waterproof remote stuck to the wall. The president's voice sounded firm, with a slight echo:
[We are working to control the situation. The incidents with altered fauna are being monitored. We ask for calm and citizen cooperation…"]
The speech went on, full of official phrases, while images of soldiers, armored vehicles and reinforced cages appeared on screen. Jhon closed his eyes and let the water run down his face. He couldn't help thinking that all that—the giant birds, the mutant dogs, the muscular lions—was making it very likely the world would experience a change in the coming days. But he forced himself not to dwell on it. With the essence inside him, he felt safe, as if he were walking with an invisible shield.
He finished showering quickly, dried off and got dressed. Black T-shirt, jeans, clean sneakers. In front of the mirror, he ran his fingers through his wet hair and saw again those subtle changes in his body. He barely smiled.
"Let it stay like this…" he murmured, and slipped the phone into his pocket.
In the living room, he turned on the laptop and began to browse forums and networks. The screen bathed the room in a bluish glow. The headlines were a parade of theories and rumors:
[Video] Soldiers carry "creature" in metal box.
NPC 1: "Anyone else feeling physical changes? I wake up stronger every day."
NPC 2: "Every time I walk I find coins: coincidence?"
NPC 3: "In my neighborhood it gets cold every time I go in: what's happening to me?"
Conspiracy lunatic: "Idiots, the planet is awakening. The new era is imminent. Follow me and I will lead you to the path of power."
That last comment was lost among thousands, ignored by almost everyone. Jhon read it and raised an eyebrow. It seemed more like a joke than a warning. He moved the mouse and closed the tab.
With just enough time, he put on the jacket and left the apartment. In the building hallway, an older neighbor greeted him from her half-open door.
"Jhon! How good to see you so healthy. Your parents would be proud."
"Thank you, Doña Rosa," Jhon smiled at her, somewhat uncomfortable but sincere.
He entered the elevator. The metal doors closed with a snap. The white ceiling light made the droplets of water still in his hair shine. He looked at his reflection in the polished steel and took a deep breath. Remembering his parents always made him a bit sad.
On reaching the ground floor, the security guard raised his hand.
"All good, Jhon?"
"All calm, Don Luis," he replied, adjusting the jacket.
At the exit, the fresh night air hit his face. He raised his hand to hail a taxi. A yellow one stopped with a squeal of brakes.
"Where to?" asked the driver, a man with a thick mustache and a worn soccer jersey.
"To 98th Street with 42nd Avenue, La Cima neighborhood," Jhon gave the address to Miriam's house.
"Fine." The cabbie started the car and merged into traffic.
While the vehicle moved, Jhon took out his phone. The screen lit up showing a carousel of notifications. He slid his thumb and opened each chat as if flipping through pages of his life.
Chat "Uncles 💬"
Uncle Jorge: "Hey, we're worried about all this animal stuff in the news. Are you okay? You know you can tell me anything."
Aunt Adri: "If you need anything, let us know."
Chat "Grandparents 🧓👵"
Grandpa: "We already sent the money transfer, take care and eat well."
Grandma: "Don't stay up so late, my boy."
Group U – "Projects 3️⃣"
Carlos: "Man, did you see the video of the rooster with red eyes? LOL"
Laura: "This looks like Resident Evil."
Camilo: "The professor said the homework is still due Monday."
He smiled a little. It was the chaos of the world filtered into memes and everyday worries.
Then he opened Miriam's chat.
The message was there waiting for him, along with a photo. "So you're really coming? I'm here waiting."
The image showed Miriam, dark-skinned, curly hair gathered in an improvised bun, full lips. She wore a tight blouse that hinted at her bust and the framing highlighted her rounded backside without being explicit. A suggestive photo without crossing into vulgar.
Jhon's heart sped up. He felt a heat travel down from his stomach to his crotch. His little brother, which apparently had grown a few centimeters, stirred a bit. Yes, somehow one of the first things to grow was his penis; if the essence weren't real, he'd think it was a hentai system.
He tapped the heart icon and wrote: "Yeah, I'm on my way."
The cabbie, looking through the rear-view mirror, muttered:
"These kids nowadays only think about putting it in and taking it out… that's how they end up with babies at 19."
I could only raise an eyebrow at the cabbie's pretty realistic comment, but does it matter? No. The petal waits at home anyway.
Jhon swallowed a bit because his mouth was dry and turned his gaze toward the window, where the avenue lights stretched like liquid lines over the asphalt. The taxi's engine vibrated under his feet, in time with the rhythm of his pulse.
Outside, the city looked the same as always; nothing seemed out of place, but with all the news it's likely the status quo won't last long.
---
The taxi braked sharply and the seatbelt pressed against my chest. He paid and I got out. The air outside smelled of soy sauce and reheated grease. In the distance horns sounded and a vendor shouted something I didn't understand. Right in front of Miriam's complex, three guys were kicking the Chinese rice cart, spilling pots and throwing trays. The owners—two thin old folks with stained aprons—were crying and begging with raised hands.
My throat tightened. I saw my mom selling empanadas downtown to pay for my notebooks. The same look, the same wrinkled hands. I didn't think; I walked toward them.
"Hey, that's enough, leave it like that," my voice came out hoarse as I approached the disturbance, lower than usual.
One turned, cap crooked, bloodshot eyes, maybe high.
"Don't get into what's not your business, bro, unless you want problems."
I kept moving forward. The noise of metal on the ground tickled my teeth.
"Don't mess around. Get out before the police arrive"—I felt heat rise up my neck.
The biggest guy pulled out a kitchen knife, glowing orange under the streetlight.
"Step back or we'll cut you too."
I stopped. Five. Knives. My heart started pounding faster; I could feel it in my temples. I wanted to step back… I didn't want to ruin the day, but I also didn't want to leave the old folks. And at that moment, the one with the knife started trembling. His shoulders turned red, the skin sizzled like meat in a frying pan. His eyes turned to embers. And suddenly, fire. A flame ran along his torso, exploded in his hands. His laugh came out broken, cavernous.
"Let this shit burn!" he shouted and stretched his hands toward me.
The air turned into an oven. People screamed. A woman dropped a shopping bag that scattered on the ground: plantains rolling, eggs breaking.
"My son! My son!" she screamed, grabbing the boy by the arm and running with him on her shoulder.
"Kyaaa"
"Help"
You could hear the screams of the people who until now ignored what was happening with the old folks. Not everyone wants to get into trouble. I wouldn't want to either, but when you had parents who work to give you the best, you can't let this slide.
A prepaid-cell vendor took off running, leaving his box behind. A group of three young people stood still with their phones recording, mouths open.
Upstairs, Miriam was sitting on her bed looking at my chat. "I'm here," said my message. The noise below was a roar. She leaned out over the balcony. Her heart stopped for a second when she saw the tongue of fire and me almost straight in front of it, between smoke and people fleeing.
"Jhon…!" she whispered; her voice came out broken. She dropped the phone, grabbed it again, ran to the door. Her hands trembled as she tried to fit the key. She rushed out, nearly tripping, took the stairs two at a time, heart pounding in her ears.
"Please, nothing happen to him, please, nothing happen," she repeated in her head. She hit her knee on a step but kept going, not even feeling the pain.
Down below, the fire brushed past me. The fabric on my arm caught flame. I tore it off and was left in a tank top, sweat sliding down.
"Kid, move out!" an old man yelled from across the street.
"Whoa, so cool!" a frustrated teenager shouted, phone in hand.
"Idiot! That's a human on fire!" a man next to her roared, yanking her arm to get her running.
The burning man advanced. Four others surrounded me, knives, bottles. I didn't think—everything turned into lines in my head: routes, angles, arms, centers of gravity.
I ducked just as a bottle went by. Air whistled past my ear. I hit one hard in the stomach, felt him double over and drop to his knees. Another came at me from behind; I twisted my torso, blocked with my forearm, felt the blade tear my skin.
"Urgh."
It burned hot, blood running down. I shoved, disarmed, drove my knee into his face. He crashed against the stall's table, soy sauce spraying everywhere, the sweet-salty smell mixing with smoke.
"Cough."
The heat kept rising; I coughed. A child cried somewhere; his mother scooped him up and ran. A third man tried to stab me; I grabbed his wrist, twisted, crack, knife to the ground. I shoved him and he slammed into the burning man. The flame reached him; he screamed and rolled on the floor trying to put himself out.
"AHHHHH, IT HUUURTS," he writhed like mad on the ground trying to strip the fire off.
Every muscle burned. I breathed like I'd run a kilometer. But each time I reacted a little better: blocked a kick, turned, hit a jaw. The fourth one fell unconscious. Only two left: the flaming one and another retreating, shaking.
The burning man threw another blast of flame. I covered myself with a piece of metal sheet fallen from the cart.
"Shiiiit," I shouted as if that somehow gave me more strength, while watching the sheet slowly burn and scorch my hands.
But in the end I let it go and rolled. The heat still cut through, searing my shoulder. I clenched my teeth. A store window burst from the heat, an alarm began to howl. The crowd screamed, some tripped, others shoved. Smell of burning plastic, burning hair.
"Wiu wiu wiu."
Sirens. Blue lights in the puddles. Two trucks screeched to a halt. Police poured out shouting:
"Everyone back, back, back! Stop filming and run!" an officer yelled, pushing people away with her arms.
"Extinguishers now! Cover the fire one!" another ordered.
The sound of the extinguishers filled the air with a white "pssshhhhh." Foam covered the burning man. He rolled, growling, his skin steaming. A helmeted agent threw an insulating mesh over him. Another helped lift a wounded man. A third pulled the elderly from the cart, shielding them with his body. People kept screaming, some dropping to their knees, others filming with trembling phones.
I leaned against a post, gasping, veins bulging, eyes fixed. My fingers shook. My shoulder was red, tank top clinging to my body with sweat. My tongue tasted of copper.
"Jhon!" a sharp cry called me.
I lifted my head. Miriam was running toward me, curls disheveled, eyes huge with fear, phone in hand. She reached me, cupped my face with both hands, her fingers cold on my cheeks. Her lips trembled.
"I thought… I thought…" she didn't finish the sentence, hugged me tight.
I grimaced from the pain but wrapped my arms around her.
"I'm fine… easy," I said, though my voice shook.
"Let's go to my apartment, I've got a first aid kit there, I'll patch you up," she ordered, almost out of breath.
A police officer approached with a notebook.
"Sir, you can't leave, we need your statement."
Miriam turned her head slowly, brow furrowed.
"I think I was clear: he's coming with me," she said with a calm that cut.
"Miss, no…" the officer began, brow furrowed.
She took out her phone, dialed a number and put it on speaker.
"Dad, there's a policeman here who won't let me take my injured friend," her voice was ice.
"Yes, I'll treat him with the kit."
"Yes, Dad, I'll take responsibility."
"Here, for you," Miriam told the officer, handing him the phone.
The agent swallowed hard when he heard the deep voice on the other end.
"What's your name, officer?" the voice on the speaker asked, authoritative.
The cop stammered, gave his name and stayed on the line for a while. After what felt like a slaughterhouse, he handed the phone back to Miriam and she hung up.
"Alright, you can go," the officer said, stepping back with sweat on his forehead.
I tried to smile but felt a bit sorry for the officer—he was only doing his job.
"Remind me not to mess with you," I joked under my breath.
"You'd better," she replied, holding me by the waist to help me walk.
Between nervous laughter and the pain in my body, we crossed into the building complex. Me in my tank top, shoulder burning. Behind us, the police finished securing the fire man with a heat-proof harness. They loaded him into the truck while another officer shouted:
"Clear the way, it's under control! Clear the way!"
A kid on the corner already had his phone up. The screen showed comments on his live stream on Tok Tok, fire icons and text screams:
"What the hell is happening in this city"
"Look at that guy almost die"
"Someone call the fire department"
The truck engine started, carrying the burning man away. Foam, smoke, and the remains of the rice cart lay scattered across the street while neighbors tried to help the elderly. After all that happened, Jhon didn't even have time to check on them.
---
Meanwhile, as Miriam and Jhon headed to the apartment…
The men who had appeared moved with military precision. Some wore authentic police uniforms and moved like them, others moved with a rigor far beyond an ordinary cop. Firmly, they cuffed the youths who had caused the disturbances.
The ride was silent. The streets stretched under the yellowish glow of streetlamps, the rumble of engines echoing inside the armored truck. Nobody spoke, only the creak of metal and held breaths filled the air. The city fell away bit by bit until the vehicle entered a restricted zone, passing several guarded checkpoints.
Upon arrival, the prisoners were led into a gray building without signs. Their footsteps echoed down metal corridors. As they advanced, screams began to be heard. Not ordinary screams, but howls of pain, muffled pleas, and the sound of bodies striking gurneys.
"N-no… please… aaahhhhgghh…"
"Hhhhaaahhh… it hurts… it hurts…!"
In one of the rooms, through reinforced windows, doctors in white coats adjusted machines, placing electrodes and syringes on strapped-down subjects. Some convulsed, others wept for help, veins standing out on their skin as if something inside were trying to break free. The smell of disinfectant failed to mask the metallic stench of blood and sweat.
At the center of the laboratory, a gray-haired man in an immaculate uniform watched with his hands behind his back. His insignia identified him as head of the Special Health Department. He murmured to an assistant while reviewing a monitor with a mad gleam in his eye:
"The frequency of cases is increasing… more appear every week. The supposed awakening of the ether is no longer speculation; this is a fact."
The soldiers around him kept silent, attentive to every word. The chief picked up a secure phone, dialed directly and spoke in a deep voice:
"Madam President… we found another subject. Male, 22 years old, anomalous physical resistance, abilities related to fire. He was captured during a confrontation in the city, apparently stopped by a civilian before the agents arrived. Yes, he's under containment."
"Yes, the civilian apparently acted out of altruism. He did not show superhuman abilities."
He paused, listened carefully and concluded:
"I understand. We will continue with the tests."
His gaze returned to the newly arrived prisoners, as if they were simply pieces on a much larger board.
---------------------------------------
Back at Miriam's apartment.
Miriam opened her apartment door and helped Jhon inside. As soon as she closed it, she went straight to the first aid kit. Her hands trembled a little as she pulled out bandages, gauze and alcohol.
"Sit here, quickly," she ordered, worried, while pushing him gently toward the sofa.
Jhon obeyed, smiling with a calm air despite his wounds. The way Miriam looked at him, with furrowed brows and shining eyes, made him feel strangely happy.
She began to clean his cuts, and in doing so her fingers brushed the firm skin of his torso. She stopped for an instant, surprised: his muscles were much more defined than she remembered. She swallowed, trying to focus on the treatment.
"Since when…?" she murmured, without finishing the sentence.
Jhon, noticing her lingering gaze, let out a light laugh.
"What's wrong? Do you like what you see?"
Miriam blushed immediately, tapping his shoulder softly.
"Idiot, I'm checking your wounds."
But at that moment, in front of him, the invisible holographic screen that Miriam could not see showed a new piece of data:
Name: Jhon Ariza Montoza
Gacha Points (1/30)
Purchased: 40
Race: \[Human]
Character Assimilation:
– Jason Todd: 10%
– Loki (Earth 199999): 1.5%
Summoned Characters: None
Powers: – Stand: Echoes ACT1
Equipped Items: – (empty)
He hadn't felt it in the heat of the fight, but the fact that he was improving while fighting already showed the difference in percentage. It wasn't much, but it was enough for me to realize those agents were not simply police.
Now… you may wonder, why doesn't he use my stand? Well, what did you expect?
That I would use my stand in a public place? Until recently, the confirmation of people with abilities was only speculation.
The guy on fire and the police taking him away prove me right not to use something that could be labeled a "superpower" in their eyes and be seen as a freak.
"It seems there are many isolated cases similar to these, seeing their preparation," I thought with concern.
But setting aside something over which he had no responsibility now, he decided to concentrate on what he did have.
After overthinking, Jhon decided to try something. He looked at Miriam and asked in a low voice:
"Do you trust me?"
She lifted her head, her beautiful hazel eyes shining with doubt and tenderness.
"Yes, I trust you."
Then he pulled a small bottle from the inventory. The glass glowed with a strange hue. Seeing it, Miriam startled and as she moved she cut his arm a little with the scissors she was holding.
"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, pressing the wound.
He grimaced in pain, but without complaining uncorked the potion and drank the liquid in one gulp. The wounds on his body began to close slowly, the skin regenerating before Miriam's eyes, but it was a little slow.
She opened her mouth, incredulous, her eyes shining with a mixture of fear and fascination.
"What… what was that?" her voice came out as a trembling whisper.
Jhon swallowed. He thought fast. He could not mention the essence in any way.
"It's… something I awakened. Apparently there are people who are gaining strange abilities… like the guy today. Apparently… I'm one of them."
Miriam blinked several times, processing what she had just heard. She stepped closer, so close that Jhon could feel her breath.
"What…?" she repeated, but this time her tone carried a different, more vivid emotion.
Suddenly she pushed him lightly on the shoulder, frustrated.
"Jhon, you have powers! How can you be so calm!? You should be more excited, damn it!"
He couldn't help but smile crookedly, scratching his neck.
"I guess I'm not good at celebrating it…"
Miriam stared at him for a second, and then her expression changed completely. A huge smile spread across her face, her eyes sparkled with hope and stars.
"Hehehe… my… my boyfriend has powers?" she murmured with a mix of nerves and joy, almost as if she had said it without thinking.
Jhon froze, processing those words.
"Boyfriend?… is that what we are?" he thought, his heart skipping a beat.
Miriam, realizing what she had said, blushed, pressing her lips as if she wanted to swallow the phrase. She coughed nervously and quickly changed the subject:
"Ahem… and there are no side effects?"
He shook his head, smiling confidently, seeing her attempt to change the topic but not calling her out.
"No, I'm fine."
Without realizing it, they were very close, breathing unevenly, faces a few centimeters apart. Miriam hesitated a second, but the heat of the moment pushed her. They kissed hard.
Their mouths met in a soft kiss at first, wet, clumsy from surprise.
"♡~Mmnhh… mmm…~♡" escaped from Miriam as she clung to his neck while he held her by the waist.
Their breathing became irregular, mingling between short gasps:
"haaah… haaah…".
Miriam, almost without realizing it, raised one leg, then the other, ending up straddling his waist. She kissed him harder, pressing her body against his.
"Smmmhh… ahhn… Jhon~♡" sounded between lips, with a slight moan that escaped her throat.
The heat of the moment enveloped them, the friction of their bodies becoming more evident. Jhon held her firmly, and every time their lips separated for a second, they returned to seek each other desperately.
"~chuup♡… mnnhh…".
Miriam's heart pounded violently, and both their breaths were a panting sway, as if the air were not enough.
Finally Miriam pulled back abruptly, resting her hands on Jhon's chest. She was agitated, her cheeks flushed, lips wet and red.
"W-wait," she stopped him, face full of concern.
"Y-you were injured…" she whispered in a thread of voice, lowering her gaze, though her hands kept exploring his torso.
Jhon let out a laugh while watching her touch him.
"Hey, if you keep checking like that, I'll think you just want an excuse to caress me."
She blushed and hit him on the shoulder, though not hard.
"Idiot!"
He faked exaggerated pain.
"Ow, careful, I'm still very weak."
Miriam puckered her lips in a pout, between annoyed and worried. But the tension rose again between them, Jhon's eyes searched hers and he leaned in to kiss her again.
She put a hand on his face, stopping him, and with a mischievous smile whispered:
"Not today, Jhon. You're hurt, remember? You'll just sleep… with me, but you'll sleep and that's it."
He sighed, resigned, although a satisfied smile formed on his face. They walked together to the bedroom, where the calm of the night would probably be interrupted by the questions Miriam had in her mind.
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Antarctica
In the vast white desert, an explorer advanced on his sled pulled by thick-furred wolves. The icy wind cut like blades, but he was used to that climate.
Suddenly, the sky lit up with a multicolored glow, an energy that crossed the firmament like a living wave. The explorer barely managed to look up when the force hurled him into the air, knocking him down onto the snow.
His wolves howled, but the glow kept going, vanishing on the horizon. Silence returned for an instant, until the man's eyes opened wide.
Seconds later, the frozen silence broke with a brutal burst of icy energy:
"BOOOOOMMM!!!" – a dry thunder that made the ground tremble.
The cold spread in cutting waves:
"CRRRAAACKKKK-CRRSHHHHHHH" – the ice extending at full speed, freezing rocks, snow and even the air.
The wolves, trapped in the wave, barely managed to howl before their voices were silenced in a crunch:
"AAAUUHHhh… crrshhhhhh…"
Everything within a kilometer was covered in solid ice. The wolves, the sled, the snow… all trapped in a frozen crystal.
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Author's note:
Brother, I really underestimated fanfic writers. This stuff takes forever to create, even my eyes hurt now.
So, if you can support me with power stones, I'd appreciate it. Next Saturday's chapter will be another gacha.
The next gacha will be more developed and stronger.
If you have any questions or advice, I'm here.
[Please leave comments to let me know if you support the fan fiction.
Depending on whether there are enough comments, I'll post another chapter tomorrow.]
End