Miriam's Apartment - 7:15 AM
Jhon stared out the window at the multiple plumes of smoke rising from different parts of Bogotá. With his enhanced senses, he could hear sirens kilometers away, screams muffled by the wind, and something else… something that set him on edge. A constant, almost inaudible hum, as if the city itself were vibrating.
Miriam had fallen back asleep after the morning scare.
Of course, not before staring at me like a lovestruck fool.
Let's be real—when your partner suddenly turns into a damn Adonis, would you act normal?
Are we dating? No. Are we friends? Yes, but it's not that simple. She calls me when she's feeling down, and I call her when I need someone. Would I let her slip away because of that? Ha, this woman already has my last name written all over her future kids.
We're two pillars in each other's lives—unable to fully come together to build something stronger, too scared the pillar might crack in the process. But I'll change that in the future.
Here's the problem, though: I want a harem.
You're probably thinking, Jhon, how could you? You're supposed to have a monogamous relationship. Pervert. Immoral. A demon in this world. Immature.
Who decided that? The law? Religion?
Ironically, back in the day, kings and emperors had harems, and plenty of women wanted in, even if it wasn't for love.
Hell, any strong, capable man had a harem.
But as time passed and Christianity spread globally, having more than one woman was demonized.
You must have one woman in your life, a partner forever, they said.
So, after awakening powers and getting this damn Essence, do you really think I'd settle for just one woman to share my life with?
I love women, damn it—I adore them. Whoever created them, evolution or otherwise, they're the toughest thing in the galaxy.
Even Omni-Man went from being a conqueror to a family man because of a human woman.
Sure, a lot more happened for his character arc, but you get the point.
Let's not forget that with the Essence, I can become absurdly powerful given enough time.
And don't rule out the possibility of pulling a skill that makes women way more open to the idea of a harem.
"Here's hoping," I said, raising my hands in a mock prayer for that skill.
I headed to the bathroom to wash up—I needed a shower for what I was about to do.
But as I walked, I couldn't stop thinking about my parents. Sometimes I wish I could just live my life, not hurt so much over their loss, but now, with what I've gained, it's impossible.
It eats at me every damn hour. Could I bring them back someday? What would they think of me?
I sighed.
Would my dad ask if I've got kids scattered all over the place? With this face, it's possible.
Lost in narcissistic thoughts, Jhon reached the bathroom.
He stepped silently in front of the mirror. The transformation was even more striking under natural light. His face had completely lost the softness of youth he'd still had at nineteen. His skin, once rough from sun exposure, was now smooth and flawless. His jaw was sharper, cheekbones more defined, and his eyes… his blue eyes now held an intensity they never had before. His black hair looked thicker, and when he pulled off his shirt to inspect the changes, he had to admit he looked like he'd transcended.
I've got a V-cut and eight damn abs—where have you ever seen that?
"Damn," he muttered, running a hand over his torso.
I look like I stepped out of some sadomasochistic BL fan's art.
His phone buzzed near the sink—he'd brought it to check the news. It was a message from his grandparents.
Grandpa: "Mijito, are you watching the news? Things are weird here. The animals are acting strange, and people in town are saying crazy stuff."
Jhon's stomach tightened. He dialed immediately.
"Grandpa?"
"Jhon, my boy, so good to hear you." The old man's voice sounded frailer than usual. "You okay there in Bogotá?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. But tell me, what's going on there?"
"Well, it's the strangest thing. Last night, Mrs. Carmen's rooster grew to the size of a big dog, and this morning we found the chickens all riled up—not normal riled up, but like… like they're smarter."
A chill ran through Jhon.
"And you guys? Do you feel any different?"
"No, mijito, we're the same old tired folks," his grandpa chuckled, but the laugh sounded forced. "But some neighbors… Don Pedro's son says he can sense when it's gonna rain days in advance. And Doña María's granddaughter swears she can make plants grow faster."
"Grandpa, listen to me," Jhon's voice turned serious. "I need you and Grandma to come to Bogotá. Now."
"Oh, my boy, you know we can't leave the farm…"
"Grandpa!" The urgency in his voice silenced the old man. "Please. Things are gonna get worse. A lot worse. I need you in a place where I can protect you."
"I need to protect you, Grandpa, please…" he whispered, his voice breaking slightly.
"Oh, dear Lord…" his grandpa whispered back. Then, louder: "Carmen? Carmen, come here. Our grandson says we need to go to Bogotá."
I heard muffled conversation in the background—my grandma protesting about her garden plants, my grandpa explaining with that infinite patience he always had for her.
"Alright, mijito," he returned to the phone after a few minutes. "If our grandson says it's necessary, then it's necessary. We'll head to the airport in two hours."
"Thank you, Grandpa. I love you."
"We love you too, my boy. Take care."
After hanging up, I stood frozen in front of the mirror. I had 10 gacha points left, and they needed to last 27 more days until I could buy more. Every decision from here on out had to be surgically precise.
But first, I had to improve what I already had.
I applied my last Power Boost card to Intuitive Aptitude.
I pulled the card from my inventory and materialized it.
I brought it to my chest, consciously directing it toward Intuitive Aptitude.
[Apply Power Boost Card to Intuitive Aptitude]
[Yes or No]
I selected Yes.
The change was… indescribable. If I thought Intuitive Aptitude was OP before, now it was on a whole other level.
Sylar needed to meticulously analyze another being to understand the essence of things.
Me? I didn't need to crack open someone's skull anymore. I didn't need that to copy something.
It's no exaggeration to say the ability before was like seeing the world through foggy glass my whole life, and now someone had wiped it clean.
Not only could I see more clearly; I could process, analyze, and understand at speeds that would've given me migraines even with the ability before.
"Damn," I muttered, realizing I'd automatically analyzed the water flow in the apartment's pipes, identified three weak points in the building's structure, and calculated the exact trajectory my voice would need to wake Miriam without startling her.
After the initial shock, it was time to do what I'd planned yesterday.
…
The apartment remained silent, lit only by the orange streetlight filtering through poorly closed curtains.
I settled into the desk chair. My fingers closed around the materialized T-1000 card, feeling the strange texture of a material that didn't seem entirely of this reality.
"Time to see how real these summons are," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper.
The card dissolved between my fingers like golden sand, and the air in the apartment thickened. An invisible pressure filled the space, as if the molecules themselves were reorganizing.
Then it happened.
Liquid metal emerged from nowhere, like mercury rising from the floor itself. It formed a shimmering silver column, rippling, hypnotic, reflecting the streetlights in patterns that hurt to look at directly. The mass gradually took shape: first a basic human silhouette, then more defined features—muscles, facial characteristics.
When the transformation finished, standing before Jhon was a man of about thirty, tall, with an athletic but not exaggerated build. Like someone who'd undergone years of training and genetic refinement.
The android's eyes opened. No defined iris or pupil—just a reflective surface that seemed to hold infinite depths.
Jhon remained still in the chair, instinctively adopting a posture he'd seen in mafia movies: back straight, hands clasped in his lap, chin slightly raised. A pose that radiated effortless authority.
His gaze locked onto the T-1000 with the intensity of a predator studying its prey. No rush, no nervousness. Just pure, cold evaluation.
The holographic screen appeared in his peripheral vision:
Name: Jhon Ariza Montoza
Race: [Human]
Gacha Points: 11/30
Character Assimilation:
-- Jason Todd: 80%
-- Loki (Earth 199999): 10%
Summoned Characters: T-1000 (Terminator 2) Loyalty (10/10)
Powers:
Stand: Echoes ACT2
Intuitive Aptitude
Equipped Items: None
Jhon raised an eyebrow at the apparently maxed-out loyalty.
As if sensing his curiosity, the Essence sent information to his mind.
Basically, for summons of non-humanoid or artificial entities, loyalty is automatically set to the maximum due to their non-emotional nature. No need to build bonds.
That solves a lot of future headaches. I don't want a potential humanity-exterminator running loose.
With Intuitive Aptitude active, his mind dissected the composition of the being before him like a technical diagram unfolding in his consciousness:
He studied it completely without needing much time to understand. The T-1000 consists of mimetic liquid poly-alloy composed of molecular nanotechnology of unknown origin. Each "cell" is an independent processor capable of instantaneous quantum communication with the rest of the organism. Molecular transformation capacity allows it to adopt any solid form of equivalent mass. Physical damage resistance: 97.3%. Identified vulnerabilities: sustained extreme heat, high-intensity electromagnetic fields, specific molecular acids. Physical strength: approximately 15 times that of an average human. Processing speed: 847 times faster than a human brain. Memory storage: practically unlimited.
The T-1000 stood motionless, awaiting orders.
Jhon leaned back slightly in the chair, maintaining eye contact.
"I'm curious about something," he said softly, barely audible. "Before you got here, what were you doing?"
The android tilted its head slightly, as if accessing internal files.
"I was pursuing John Connor and his mother, Sarah Connor, in Los Angeles, 1991." Its voice was identical to Jhon's but devoid of emotional inflection. "My mission was to terminate John Connor to ensure Skynet's future. During the confrontation at the Cyberdyne steel mill, the T-800 Model 101 pushed me into molten metal."
It paused, as if processing information.
"I remember the sensation of my systems disintegrating as I fell into the liquid steel. The temperature was 1,535 degrees Celsius. My cognitive functions faded gradually. Then… I awoke here, with immediate knowledge of my new situation and my master."
Jhon nodded slowly, analyzing the information. The T-1000 had retained memories of its previous experiences, including its "death." That opened interesting possibilities about the nature of summons.
"Understood." He stood, moving with the controlled grace he'd developed since his physical transformation. "Your previous mission is over. You have a new one now."
He approached the window, gazing at Bogotá's half-empty streets. In the distance, columns of smoke rose from various points in the city. The chaos continued.
"My grandparents are in danger," he said without turning. "They're at a rural farm, exposed to the threats emerging across the country."
He closed his eyes and established the telepathic connection the Essence provided for his summons. Not words, but pure concepts—exact coordinates, images of Don Andrés and Doña Carmen's faces, the farm's layout, potential dangers they might face.
The T-1000 received the information instantly, processing it and calculating optimal travel routes.
"Your mission is to reach them as quickly as possible," Jhon continued, turning to face the android. "Protect them from any threat. Stay hidden when possible, but if eliminating a threat is necessary to ensure their safety, do it."
The android nodded with mechanical precision.
"Mission understood. Parameters established: Protect priority targets, maintain low profile, threat elimination authorized."
"One more thing," Jhon stepped closer, his voice taking on a murderous edge he never thought he'd unleash. "They're the only family I have left. If anything happens to them…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. The telepathic connection had already conveyed what would happen if they were harmed.
"Understood, master. I will not fail."
The T-1000 moved toward the window. Its body began to shift, becoming more fluid, less defined. In seconds, it transformed into a stream of liquid metal that slid through the window frame like water finding its way to the ocean.
Jhon watched as the silver form poured down the building's facade to the ground, where it immediately assumed a generic human shape and vanished into the shadows of Bogotá's early morning.
He stood there for several minutes, staring at where his first true summon had disappeared. The weight of what he'd just done settled on his shoulders. He'd sent a perfect killing machine to protect his grandparents. A machine that, by its very nature, would do whatever it took to complete the mission.
But does it matter? It's faster than going to get them myself.
--------
Miriam's Perspective - 7:50 AM
Miriam woke with that sticky feeling of having slept poorly. Her dreams had been filled with sirens, distant explosions, and the persistent image of Jhon transforming into something both beautiful and terrifying.
She sat up slowly, noticing he wasn't in bed. She could hear him talking on the phone in the bathroom, his voice deeper than yesterday—that masculine timbre that drew her in like a moth to a flame.
When she stepped out of the bedroom, she found him in the living room, surrounded by objects that definitely hadn't been there before. A set of knives that looked more like art than weapons, some kind of military manual, and an electronic device blinking like a sick Christmas tree.
"Jhon?" Her voice came out higher than usual. "Where the hell did all this come from?"
He turned at the sound of her voice, and once again, Miriam felt that punch to the gut. Every time she saw him, he seemed… more. More handsome, more present, more intense. Like someone had been tweaking the saturation controls of reality.
"Good morning, gorgeous," he smiled, and even the way he said 'gorgeous' was different. Before, it would've sounded shy, almost apologetic. Now it sounded like an undeniable fact. "Sleep well?"
"Like crap, thanks for asking," she shot back, heading to the kitchen. "And don't change the subject. Where'd all this stuff come from?"
Jhon followed her movements with that new look of his.
"They're part of my abilities," he explained, casually starting to put the objects away. "I can… materialize certain things I need."
"Like in video games?" Miriam focused on making coffee, mostly because she needed something to do with her hands. Being near him now made her nervous in ways she didn't want to analyze too deeply.
Sure, they'd hooked up before, but it never got too serious beyond casual sex, even if they both loved each other. Really good sex, by the way.
"Something like that." He approached the kitchen, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body as he passed by. "Miriam."
"What?"
"Look at me."
She reluctantly looked up and met those blue eyes that now seemed to see too much.
I think I blushed a little.
"Tell me," she said, turning her head to avoid staring at him.
"I need you to come with me to do some things today."
"What kind of things?"
Jhon leaned against the counter, and Miriam could see the muscles in his forearms ripple under his skin as he crossed his arms.
Gulp.
"I need to find other awakened. People like me. Talk to them, understand what's going on better."
"And why do you need me to come with you?"
"Because," his smile turned a little mischievous, "a couple looks less threatening than a guy alone asking weird questions."
Miriam felt something warm spread in her chest at the word couple, but she pushed it down. "Is that what we are now? A couple?"
She said it out loud, but internally, it was a different story.
Miriam, damn it, you've gotta play harder to get. Your mom didn't raise you like this.
"Isn't that what you want?"
The directness of the question caught her off guard. She blushed so hard she was sure it showed, even with her skin tone.
"I…" she started, then stopped. "Is that what you want?"
Jhon stepped closer, close enough for her to see the tiny golden flecks in his blue irises.
"Miriam, there's a lot I want. But right now, what I want is to make sure you're safe. And the easiest way to do that is to keep you close to me."
He ran his hands over her face, tracing her lips, brushing her ear.
What the hell? How is he so good at this? she screamed internally, fighting not to shiver.
It wasn't exactly a romantic declaration, but something about the way he said it—the raw honesty, the intensity—made her pulse race.
"Okay," she murmured. "But if you get me into trouble, I swear I'll kill you."
"Deal."
He pulled her toward him, grabbed her neck, and kissed her slowly.
She felt his tongue enter her mouth, dominating hers.
Her body, tense from the sudden action, relaxed so much her legs trembled.
His hands slid slowly down her hips, making sure she felt every move.
With two firm squeezes, he grabbed her backside, slow but forceful.
"Mm~"
"Wait, I haven't brushed—" She didn't get to finish as she felt a tingle on her backside.
Smack.
"Ahh~."
"Get ready. I'll wait for you."
Miriam watched Jhon walk away as she slowly sank to her knees.
I don't think I can escape anymore, she thought, feeling her soaked underwear.
------
Streets of Bogotá - 9:30 AM
The city felt different. It was subtle—no outright chaos in the streets yet—but there was a tension in the air, like the calm before a thunderstorm. More sirens than usual. More helicopters. And every so often, distant screams that sounded too inhuman to be entirely human.
Jhon walked hand-in-hand with Miriam. He felt like a different person.
Not literally, nor because the Essence had changed his personality.
Or did it? He wasn't sure. It was more like the positive traits of the assimilated characters had been layered onto his own without overwriting who he was.
But it was entirely up to him. Imagine assimilating a card of someone with a hero complex—many would see saving others or sacrificing yourself as positive, but do I consider it positive? That's where the difference lies.
The slight slouch of the college student he used to be was gone. He moved more fluidly, more aware of his surroundings. Do you know what it's like to have the knowledge to kill someone twenty different ways without them noticing? Or to analyze every possible path for escape routes? It's surreal.
Earlier, a group of women approached him—beautiful to a point, but purely artificial. What he might've once found attractive now seemed… bland.
Sure, it was fun seeing Miriam's angry face and the women's discomfort, but I had to drag her away before a fight broke out.
I couldn't help but think how sexy she looked. How far would she go for me? Would she kill for me like I would for her?
Jhon's eyes were empty and emotionless as he thought of Miriam.
Miriam, still fuming over those women, suddenly shivered.
She turned to see if Jhon felt uneasy too, but found him staring at her.
Looking away with a flushed face, she asked something else instead.
"Where exactly are we going?" she said, not having spoken since the incident, except for the occasional furtive glances she threw Jhon's way.
Squeezing her hand as we dodged a woman yelling into her phone, scolding her kids for playing alone at the arcade, Jhon smiled a little, remembering his childhood.
"Three blocks north," I replied, checking something in my pocket she couldn't quite see. "There's someone there I need to meet."
They found him in an alley behind a pharmacy: a young man, maybe 25, with bleeding wounds on his arms that were visibly closing as they watched.
Miriam gasped, but Jhon approached calmly.
"Hey, brother," he said, raising his hands in a universal gesture of peace while trying to flash a relaxed smile. "You okay?"
The man looked up with wild, panicked eyes. Dried blood stained his clothes, and he trembled as if he had a fever.
"Don't come closer!" he shouted. "I'm crazy! Everything I touch heals, but it hurts like I'm burning inside!"
Jhon stopped a few meters away. "Alright, buddy, calm down," he said as Echoes appeared behind him, its greenish shell narrowing its eyes—if you could call them eyes.
"Calm," he whispered, creating invisible sound waves imperceptible to anyone who couldn't see souls. The young man slowly relaxed, unaware of why.
"When did this start?" Jhon asked, watching his expression soften as Echoes returned to his soul.
"What?"
"When did you get this ability?"
The man blinked, as if the question threw him off. "Since… last night. I woke up, and my cat was hurt. When I touched it…" He gestured toward a cat purring happily in a cardboard box by the wall.
Jhon nodded as if this were perfectly logical. "You got family?"
"What? Yeah, my mom, but…"
"Does she know where you are?"
"No, I… I ran out after the cat thing. I was scared I'd hurt her."
Jhon approached slowly, and Miriam noticed the man no longer seemed hostile.
"Look, I'm… different too. I can help you understand what's happening to you." He stopped a meter away. "Can I?"
The man hesitated, then nodded.
Jhon placed a hand on his shoulder.
Five seconds later, he stepped back.
"Thanks," he said to the confused man, pulling some bills from his wallet. "Go home. Call your mom. And when you use your ability, breathe deeply and think of something that makes you happy. The pain will ease."
"How do you know that?"
"Because now I understand how it works," Jhon smiled. "Take care."
As they walked away, Miriam looked at him with a mix of admiration and concern.
"Did you just…?"
"Copy his power? Yeah."
"And just like that?"
"Now, yeah."
.....
San Rafael Hospital - 11:30 AM
The hospital was a buzzing hive of voices and hurried footsteps. Shouts from families, stretchers rushing by, the constant beeping of monitors. Jhon strode in like he owned the place: upright posture, a white medical student coat he'd "borrowed" from a guy he left knocked out in a janitor's closet, and that look that drew everyone's attention in a second.
At the restricted area's door stood an exhausted nurse clutching a clipboard to her chest. When she saw him approach, she blinked several times, as if she'd suddenly forgotten what she was doing.
"Good afternoon…" Jhon spoke slowly, smiling, his voice deep, lingering on the words. "I need to get in for a moment."
The woman swallowed, trying to maintain a serious expression.
"Not just anyone gets in here… Who are you?"
Jhon stepped closer, closing the distance until she could feel the heat of his body. A faint smile curved his lips.
"Fourth-year medical student. Dr. Herrera asked for the blood culture samples from Wing C. If they're not delivered now, the coagulation analysis will be useless."
The nurse tried to respond, but the confidence in his words, combined with those eyes that seemed to study her calmly, disarmed her. She bit her lip unconsciously.
"Dr. Herrera?" she repeated weakly, searching for an excuse to keep the conversation going.
"The very one," Jhon replied, leaning slightly toward her, his smile more like a compliment than an explanation.
The clipboard slipped slightly in her hands. She looked away, took a deep breath, and relented with a quick gesture.
"Alright… Go ahead."
Jhon passed by her, close enough that his arm brushed hers. He didn't need to look back to know she was watching him.
Though it's a bit uncomfortable, is this how women feel when men stare at their asses? I get it now.
Inside, the paramedic was waiting, seated on a metal bench, his uniform speckled with white frost. His bare arm, surprisingly intact.
"Excuse me," Jhon said, standing in front of him casually. "I'm a fourth-year student. Can I ask you some questions about the cryogenic tank incident?"
The man looked at him, tired but willing to talk.
"For what class?"
"Emergency medicine," Jhon answered without hesitation. "We're studying injuries from liquid nitrogen exposure."
The paramedic raised his arm, showing it.
"The tank burst, and it spilled all over me. Normally, that'd mean instant necrosis, but… nothing. No blisters, no pain. Like my body canceled out the thermal shock."
Jhon leaned closer, his tone clinical but smooth.
"No numbness? No signs of cryodermatitis or capillary rupture?"
"Nothing. The doctors are in shock." The man let out a nervous laugh. "They don't know how to explain it."
Jhon nodded as if this were medically fascinating. "Can I see the affected area? To document any skin changes."
When the paramedic rolled up his sleeve, Jhon placed a hand on his forearm, pretending to examine it.
Five seconds of contact passed while he maintained a professional conversation about safety protocols.
"Fascinating," Jhon murmured, withdrawing his hand. "Your skin looks completely normal. Have you noticed any other changes since the incident?"
"Not really. Just that I haven't felt cold at all, even with the hospital's AC on full blast."
"Interesting. Thanks for your time."
"Hey, you didn't even write anything down."
"It's fine, I've got a good memory," Jhon replied without turning as he closed the door.
The paramedic shook his head.
"That's why they fail midterms."
…
Meanwhile, Miriam was in the Waiting Room
The hospital air smelled of disinfectant mixed with anxiety. Miriam shifted in the plastic chair for the third time, her legs going numb, watching the constant flow of people passing by. An older woman sobbed quietly while clutching a bag of medications, a man in a wrinkled suit paced back and forth speaking softly on his phone, and two teenagers sat motionless, with that vacant look she'd started to recognize in people lately.
Thirty-five minutes. Jhon had said it'd be quick.
She bit her lower lip, a habit she'd developed since this chaos began. The world had become unpredictable, and being apart from him, even for an hour, sparked an anxiety she didn't know how to handle. It wasn't just fear for her safety—though that was there too—it was deeper. Maybe some chick's trying to steal him. It's normal to want to bury them, right? Right?
Her phone buzzed in her bag, pulling her from her thoughts. "Dad" flashed on the screen.
"Hello?"
"Miriam, my love, where are you?" Her father's voice sounded tense, with that official tone he used when something serious was happening.
"At San Rafael Hospital, Dad. I'm out with Jhon…" She paused, unsure how to explain why they were there without revealing too much.
"Hospital? Are you hurt?" The immediate concern in his voice made her feel guilty for not being more specific.
"No, no, we're fine. Just… needed to do something here." She glanced down the hallway where Jhon had disappeared. "Everything okay over there?"
A heavy sigh came through the line.
"Miriam, I need you to go straight to your apartment when you're done. Watch the news, but don't leave until I get there. And don't talk to strangers."
"Dad, what's going on?" Though she already knew the general answer, the tension in his voice unsettled her.
"I can't explain over the phone, but…" He paused for a long moment. "Is Jhon with you now?"
"He's… doing something. But yeah, I'm with him."
Another silence. Miriam could hear radio chatter and voices in the background.
"Look, my girl, I know you probably slept with him at your place last night." His voice hardened slightly, but not with his usual anger. "Under normal circumstances, we'd be having a very different conversation about that."
Miriam's cheeks burned.
"Dad…"
"But these aren't normal times." His tone grew graver, almost vulnerable. "Take care of yourself, you hear me? The world's changing in ways… ways even I don't fully understand. And I don't know how fast it's going to get worse."
The brutal honesty in his voice scared her more than any scolding.
"Do you know anything beyond what happened with the guy who caught fire?" her father asked.
"Yeah, Dad, Jhon's told me some things."
"What is it? Tell me so I know he's not just bragging."
"It's complicated. But I'm okay, alright? And Jhon…" She hesitated, unsure how much she could reveal. "Jhon can protect me."
"He better, because if anything happens to my little girl, I…" His voice broke slightly. "Miriam, I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I need you to be smart. Don't trust anyone but us for now."
"I love you, Dad."
"I love you too, my sky. Call me in an hour."
The line cut off, leaving her with a mix of comfort and worry. Her father had never sounded so… human. He'd always been the incorruptible cop, the man with all the answers. Hearing him admit he didn't understand what was happening made her feel more adult than she had these past few days.
"Miss?" A voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
She looked up to see a young nurse, probably her age, watching her curiously.
"Is your boyfriend the doctor who went in earlier? The tall one with black hair?"
Miriam frowned.
"Doctor? No, he's not…" Then she remembered Jhon had borrowed a hospital coat. "Uh, yeah. Why?"
The nurse blushed slightly.
"Just… just wondering. He caused quite a stir upstairs. Some of the older doctors were asking if he was new."
A strange knot formed in Miriam's stomach. Jhon had always been attractive, but since his transformation…
"Stir?"
"Well…" The nurse leaned in conspiratorially. "Let's just say Dr. Ramírez, who's like fifty, asked if he needed a 'tour of the hospital.' And Dr. Santos almost tripped when he smiled at her."
Miriam felt a pang of something she didn't want to admit was jealousy.
"Oh."
"You're really lucky," the nurse continued with a genuine smile. "He seems super nice. He helped the lady in room 304 find the bathroom, and when Don Carlos's granddaughter was crying because she was scared of needles, he told her a joke and made her laugh."
The tension in Miriam's chest eased a bit. That sounded like the Jhon she knew.
"Yeah, he's… he's a good guy."
"Miriam!"
She turned to see Jhon walking toward her down the hallway, still wearing the white coat. Even from a distance, she could see that satisfied smile he got when things went exactly as planned.
"Little doctor!" An older woman's voice shouted from behind him. "Little doctor, wait!"
Miriam saw three elderly ladies hurrying toward him, moving with surprising agility for their age. One held flowers in her hand.
"Oh, doctor, are you leaving already?" one said, clearly flirting. "We wanted to invite you to lunch."
"My granddaughter's a nurse, doctor, and she's very pretty," another added, winking exaggeratedly.
Jhon laughed, and Miriam could tell he genuinely found the situation amusing rather than annoying.
"Ladies, you're too kind, but I've got to go with my girlfriend," he replied politely, gesturing toward Miriam.
"Oh, what a shame!" the third lady exclaimed. "But if you get tired of her, little doctor, you know where to find us."
Miriam stood with her arms crossed, her expression trying to be serious but unable to hide her amusement.
"Seriously?" she said when he reached her. "Three grandmas?"
"Hey, not my fault," he defended, laughing. "I just asked how they were."
"Sure, and I bet it was also a coincidence you 'asked how they were' to the doctors on the second floor."
Jhon looked at her with genuine surprise.
"How do you know that?"
Miriam pointed at the nurse, who was still watching their interaction with obvious interest.
"I have my sources."
"Oh, Miriam," Jhon stepped closer and cupped her face with both hands. "Are you jealous?"
"No," she lied, looking away.
"You're jealous," he confirmed, clearly amused. "You've got that little wrinkle you get when you're lying."
"I don't have wrinkles!"
"You've got a tiny one right here," he gently touched the space between her brows, "that only shows up when you're pretending not to be mad about something."
Miriam tried to stay serious, but the way he looked at her—a mix of tenderness and amusement—melted her irritation.
"Fine, maybe I'm a little jealous. But it's just that since you… changed, every woman looks at you like you're a snack."
"And that bothers you?"
"Of course it bothers me!" she exclaimed, then lowered her voice when she noticed people staring. "You're mine."
Jhon's smile softened.
"Yeah, I'm yours. Completely yours." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "And you're mine."
"You better not forget that when the next fifty-year-old doctor tries to seduce you."
"Definitely won't forget." He took off the white coat and hung it on the chair. "Ready to go?"
"More than ready. My dad called, he wants us to go to the apartment."
They started walking toward the exit when they heard a female voice shouting behind them.
"Doctor! Doctor, wait!"
They turned to see a different nurse, younger than the one who'd spoken to Miriam, running toward them with a piece of paper in her hand.
"Doctor, you forgot to give me your number to coordinate with the patient in 412!"
Jhon and Miriam exchanged looks.
"Uh…" Jhon started to say.
"My boyfriend's not a doctor," Miriam interrupted with a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes. "He was just… consulting something."
The nurse stopped, clearly confused, and looked at the white coat Jhon had left on the chair.
"But he…"
"Thanks for everything," Jhon said quickly, taking Miriam's hand. "Have a good day."
They left the hospital quickly, and it wasn't until they were on the street that both burst out laughing.
"Consulting something?" Jhon asked. "That was your best excuse?"
"I was under pressure! Besides, technically I didn't lie."
"You're right. I was consulting something. Just not exactly medical."
Miriam glanced at him sideways as they walked toward the waiting taxi.
"Did you get what you needed?"
"Yeah," Jhon's expression turned serious. "I'll explain later. First, let's get to your apartment like your dad said."
"Was it dangerous?"
Jhon squeezed her hand.
"No more dangerous than walking the streets these days. But Miriam…"
"Yeah?"
"Next time I have to do something like this, stay closer, okay? I don't like leaving you alone."
Miriam felt warmth spread through her chest. Sometimes she wanted to throw him to the ground and claim him right there. That's what she loved about him—genuine concern mixed with something deeper, like the idea of losing her physically pained him.
"I don't like being away from you either," she admitted as they climbed into the taxi, her face flushed from the embarrassment of admitting it, still getting used to showing affection.
They settled into the back seat, and Miriam rested her head on Jhon's shoulder. For a moment, with the familiar noise of Bogotá's traffic and his solid presence beside her, she could pretend the world hadn't gone completely insane.
But as they passed an intersection where two patrol cars had cordoned off an area with completely shattered asphalt in broad daylight, reality hit her again.
Her new world was dangerous, unpredictable, and terrifying.
But at least Jhon was with her.
Oh, and her dad too.
.....
Medellín - 12:30 PM
Two hundred forty kilometers away, Helena Krüger watched from her helicopter what remained of Medellín's city center after the most destructive power manifestation recorded to date.
Miguel Santos, a 30-year-old accountant who had awakened gravitational control that morning, had completely lost control. Within a two-kilometer radius, gravity had become erratic: cars floated in the air like balloons, buildings tilted at impossible angles, and civilians ran in panic as their own bodies betrayed them—some pinned to the ground like magnets, others floating helplessly.
The screams of terror pierced the air like the wails of lost souls. A mother desperately held onto her baby floating three meters high, stretching her arms as tears of desperation streamed down her cheeks. In Plaza Botero, an elderly woman had been crushed against the pavement by amplified gravity, her bones audibly snapping as she begged for help that never came.
"Commander Reaves," Helena spoke into the radio, "confirmation on civilian evacuation?"
"Negative, Captain. Evacuation at 40%. Families are trapped in tilted buildings, and our rescue teams can't approach due to erratic gravitational fields. We've confirmed at least two hundred civilian deaths, and the number is rising every minute."
From her elevated position, Helena could see bodies scattered across the streets like broken dolls. A bus full of passengers had been hurled into an apartment building, its spilled fuel igniting and turning the vehicle into a mobile funeral pyre whose occupants no longer screamed.
Helena clenched her teeth. The rules of engagement were clear but complicated: neutralize the threat with minimal collateral damage. But every second Miguel remained out of control, more civilians would die.
"Initiating approach."
"X25."
Her transformation was violent. Her muscles swelled under her military uniform, veins bulging like electrical cables, and her golden aura began radiating heat that made the helicopter's metal hot to the touch.
She jumped.
Free-falling from 200 meters should have killed her. Instead, she hit the pavement with the force of a small bomb.
BOOOOOOM
The shockwave from her landing shattered the windows of every building within a hundred-meter radius. Glass shards fell like deadly rain on people running in the streets, cutting faces and arms of those who couldn't cover themselves in time.
The crater she left was three meters deep. She rose slowly, her military boots crunching against pulverized concrete, assessing the situation.
Around her, chaos was absolute. An entire family had been trapped under the rubble of a collapsed marquee caused by her impact. The muffled groans of the injured mixed with the wails of those who'd lost loved ones in seconds.
Miguel floated fifty meters above, his eyes completely black, gesturing wildly as invisible gravitational waves radiated from his body like ripples in a pond.
"ANOTHER SOLDIER!" he screamed upon seeing her, extending both hands toward her. "CRUSH HER!"
The gravity around Helena instantly multiplied by twenty. The pavement beneath her feet disintegrated under the pressure, creating a cone of pulverized debris.
The secondary effect was devastating. Everyone within a fifty-meter radius felt the increased gravity crush them to the ground. The bones of the frail—children, the elderly—snapped instantly with dry cracks like breaking branches. Their screams of agony turned to gurgles as blood filled their collapsed lungs.
But she remained standing.
The air itself had become thick as molasses. Breathing required conscious effort. Moving was like pushing against an invisible wall of pure force.
Helena smiled.
"X50."
Her aura intensified to a blinding level. The air around her rippled with heat, and the gravitational pressure that would've crushed a tank barely made her knees bend.
The heat radiating from her was so intense that the bodies of nearby victims began to smolder. Exposed flesh blistered and charred, adding the stench of burnt meat to the already unbearable aroma of death and destruction filling the air.
She launched upward with such force that her jump created a second shockwave.
CRACK - WHOOSH
Her momentum tore piano-sized chunks of pavement that shot out like projectiles. One of these rocks cleanly pierced an apartment building, and Helena could hear the terrified screams of families inside as the walls collapsed around them.
The sound of displaced air echoed through the city center.
Miguel tried to deflect her with erratic gravitational fields, but Helena tore through them like cobwebs. Her fist connected with the awakened's torso mid-flight.
The impact sounded like a hammer striking a giant bell.
CLAAAANG
Miguel shot out like a cannonball, his body smashing through three office buildings before crashing into a reinforced concrete structure that partially collapsed.
CRASH - RUMBLE - CRASH
His flight path was a perfect line of devastation. In each building he pierced, Helena could hear screams cut off abruptly as office workers were crushed by debris or sliced by metal shards. A secretary in the second building managed to scream "My God!" before a steel beam split her in half.
Dust rose like a toxic cloud, and for a moment, Medellín's city center fell silent.
But the silence was worse than the screams. It meant no one was left alive to mourn in that zone of destruction.
Yet when the dust settled, Miguel was still alive.
And he was furious.
His eyes now glowed with an unnatural purple energy, and the debris around him—car-sized chunks of concrete—began to levitate slowly.
Among the floating debris, Helena could make out human forms. Some bodies still moved weakly, victims trapped in Miguel's gravitational field, floating like broken marionettes, some still conscious and groaning in pain as blood dripped from their wounds toward the sky.
"Impossible…" Helena muttered, feeling something dangerously close to fear for the first time in weeks.
Miguel raised both arms to the sky, and Helena followed his gaze.
Everything within a one-kilometer radius began to rise: cars, streetlights, building fragments, traffic signs, and in the distance, people screaming as their bodies lost contact with the ground.
The screams of terror now came from the sky. Men, women, children, the elderly—all floating helplessly at deadly heights, some crying, others praying, many already in shock. A girl no older than eight screamed "Mommy!" while floating a hundred meters up, reaching for a woman also floating, too far to reach her daughter.
"IF I CAN'T CRUSH YOU!" Miguel roared, his voice distorted by the energy coursing through him, "I'LL BURY YOU WITH THIS DAMN CITY!"
Helena looked up. Tons of debris floated above her like a suspended storm, ready to fall. And on the periphery, she could see civilians trapped in gravitational fields, some of them children.
Among the floating mass of destruction, she counted at least fifty people suspended in the air. Their screams had grown hoarse from pleading. Some had begun bleeding from their noses and ears due to altered atmospheric pressure.
She had no choice.
"X100."
Her transformation this time was apocalyptic.
Her golden aura turned incandescent white, so bright that news cameras broadcasting from distant helicopters were completely saturated. The air around her didn't just heat up; it began to ionize, creating electric arcs that danced around her body like serpents of light.
The temperature rose so high that the closest people—those who had miraculously survived until now—disintegrated into ash before they could even scream. Their bodies turned to vapor in fractions of a second.
Her physique swelled to almost unrecognizable proportions, muscles inflating like balloons, veins glowing like incandescent filaments under her skin.
The ground within a hundred-meter radius cracked and sank under the sheer pressure of her energy.
The effect on survivors was immediate and brutal. The pure heat radiation melted the asphalt, which began to flow like rivers of liquid lava. Those who hadn't evacuated died instantly as their lungs filled with superheated air that cooked their organs from the inside.
She launched toward Miguel not as a human but as a force of nature.
Her movement broke the sound barrier.
BOOOOOOOOOOM
The sonic wave spread across the city like the roar of an enraged god.
Within a three-kilometer radius, everyone outdoors suffered instant eardrum rupture. Blood poured from their ears like tiny fountains as they fell to their knees, screaming silently because they could no longer hear their own voices.
The impact wasn't a punch; it was a miniature nuclear explosion.
The shockwave spread through Medellín like concentric rings of pure destruction. Windows shattered within a five-kilometer radius. Parked cars were torn from their spots and flung like toys. Entire buildings swayed like trees in a hurricane.
But the most horrific were the floating people. When the shockwave hit them mid-air, their bodies disintegrated instantly from the pressure. A rain of blood and organic fragments fell over the city like a crimson storm, coating the streets in a viscous layer of what had been human beings seconds before.
Those in buildings fared no better. Structures collapsed inward like houses of cards, crushing entire families who had taken refuge in their homes. Screams were cut off abruptly by the sound of colliding concrete and steel.
Seismographs in Bogotá registered a 4.2 magnitude tremor.
News broadcasts cut off abruptly as communication towers collapsed.
News helicopters filming from a safe distance were shaken so violently that several crashed. The last images transmitted showed cameramen screaming before the signals cut to static.
And when the dust finally settled, where Medellín's historic center had once stood was now a perfect crater two hundred meters wide and fifty meters deep.
The impact zone was completely sterilized. Not a single trace of organic material remained—no bodies, no blood, not even ash. Everything had been vaporized to the molecular level. On the crater's periphery, the few buildings still standing were empty and silent, their windows like dead eyes staring at the devastation.
Helena stood in the center, bleeding from her eyes, nose, and ears. Her uniform had been completely incinerated, and her skin smoked like freshly forged metal. Every muscle in her body trembled uncontrollably.
Of Miguel Santos, literally nothing remained. He had been vaporized instantly.
Along with approximately three thousand innocent civilians who had simply been in the wrong place when two monsters decided to fight.
"Mission…" Helena murmured before her legs gave out, "completed."
Her radio crackled weakly.
"Captain Krüger, status report."
"Threat… neutralized," she managed to say before collapsing completely.
The rescue helicopter took twenty minutes to arrive. By then, Helena had slipped into a coma from extreme overexertion, and the first images of the destruction were already being broadcast via satellite worldwide.
Satellite imagery showed what looked like an open wound in the earth where one of Colombia's most vibrant cities had once stood. The official death toll wouldn't be established for weeks, when forensic teams could access the area. The final count would be: 3,247 dead, 8,000 missing (presumably vaporized), and 12,000 seriously injured.
---------
Reaction in Bogotá - 12:45 PM
Jhon and Miriam had just arrived at the apartment when they decided to stop at a small restaurant on the building's ground floor for lunch. Jhon had been unusually quiet during the taxi ride from the hospital, lost in thoughts about the new ability he'd acquired from the paramedic.
Miriam noticed his distraction as they waited to be served.
"You sure everything went okay at the hospital?" she asked, gently touching his hand on the table.
"Yeah, perfect," he replied, snapping back to the present and smiling at her. "I was just thinking about…"
His words cut off abruptly as every TV screen in the place began showing the same image: a smoking crater where Medellín's heart had once been.
The restaurant's noise died instantly. Customers, waiters, cooks—all froze, staring at the screens with expressions of absolute horror.
A woman began sobbing uncontrollably when she recognized the ruins of a building where her sister worked. An older man clutched his chest and started hyperventilating, realizing his grandson attended a school in that area. The horror wasn't abstract—it was personal and devastatingly real.
"BREAKING NEWS from Medellín," the reporter's voice trembled, "an explosion of unknown magnitude has completely destroyed the city's historic center. Official sources haven't confirmed the cause, but witnesses speak of 'people with superhuman abilities' involved in the incident. Initial estimates report thousands of fatalities."
Aerial footage showed devastation straight out of a sci-fi movie. Buildings collapsed within a kilometers-wide radius. Cars scattered like confetti. And at the center, that perfect crater, like the footprint of an enraged god.
But what hit hardest wasn't the material destruction—it was the small human figures visible in the aerial shots: bodies strewn across the streets like broken dolls, survivors stumbling like zombies covered in dust and blood, rescue teams barely able to process the tragedy's scale.
Miriam gripped his arm hard enough to leave marks.
"Did a person do that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Jhon analyzed the footage with Intuitive Aptitude. The destruction patterns, the perfectly circular crater, the total absence of explosive or chemical residue.
"Two people," he corrected, his voice sounding oddly distant even to himself. "One who could manipulate gravity, another who could amplify their physical strength to… extreme levels."
And they'd killed thousands of innocents in the process. Not as collateral damage, but as the inevitable consequence of power that had surpassed all human limits.
The realization hit him like a hammer.
In the grand scheme of things, he was still an insect. A very clever insect with some useful tricks, but an insect nonetheless.
His accelerated regeneration wouldn't save him from instant disintegration. His thermal resistances were a joke against that level of power. Even with all the abilities he'd copied, he was fundamentally human against true monsters.
"Jhon," Miriam's voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts, "you okay? You look pale."
"We need to go," he said, standing abruptly and leaving money on the table. "Now."
"What? Why?"
"Because," he muttered as he guided her toward the exit, carefully avoiding eye contact with other customers who'd started murmuring nervously among themselves, "if there are people out there capable of this, none of us are safe."
Damn, that looks like a Thor vs. Hulk fight. Aren't we supposed to start with street-level fights before jumping to city-destroying ones? What kind of madness is this, author?
On the TV, the reporter continued broadcasting about the catastrophe with barely contained hysteria typical of crisis news. But what worried Jhon most was something only he could likely detect with his enhanced senses:
The air itself had begun vibrating at a different frequency. Like something massive was awakening in the distance.
As they headed toward the building's elevator, Jhon glanced back at the restaurant's screens through the window. The footage now showed black smoke columns rising to the sky like accusing fingers, and in the bottom corner of the screen, a real-time counter kept climbing: "CONFIRMED VICTIMS: 3,247… 3,248… 3,249…"
The numbers kept rising as they entered the elevator and lost sight of the screens. But Jhon knew they'd keep climbing for days.
When the doors closed, Miriam looked at him, worried.
...
Miriam's Apartment - 1:15 PM
The door closed behind them with a soft click that contrasted with the chaos they'd left behind. Jhon dropped the keys on the entryway table, but something wasn't right. His enhanced senses picked up a subtle vibration in the air, like the world itself was humming at a barely perceptible frequency.
"Want some water? I'm hungry, we could order something…" Miriam spoke as she kicked off her shoes, but Jhon's words were lost in the background noise of his mind.
He walked to the window, completely ignoring what she was saying. His eyes scanned Bogotá's horizon, searching for something he didn't know how to name. The vibration was growing stronger.
"Jhon, are you listening to me?"
He pressed his palms against the glass, focusing. Something was out there, something massive approaching. His skin prickled as if he were standing in front of a thunderstorm.
"…talking to myself, huh?" Miriam's voice grew smaller, but he barely registered it.
The sky changed.
It wasn't gradual. One second, the sun shone through scattered clouds; the next, an unnatural darkness spread like ink spilled in water. Clouds swirled, forming spirals that defied any known weather pattern.
RUMMMMMBLE
The first thunder shook the apartment's windows.
"What the hell…?" Miriam approached the window, but another thunder interrupted her.
CRACK-BOOOOM
This one sounded different—not like normal thunder rolling across the sky, but as if something massive had split in two.
From the street, people began screaming.
"Oh my God!"
"Get inside! Everyone, get inside!"
"The kids! Where are the kids?"
The screams mixed with the sound of slamming doors, cars braking abruptly, and the cries of babies who didn't understand why the world had turned so dark so fast.
CRASH-RUMBLE-BOOM
Another thunder, louder. The apartment's lights flickered.
"Jhon…" Miriam's voice trembled now. "What's happening?"
But he couldn't answer. Something had activated in his vision, letting him see beyond the normal. And what he saw froze his blood.
A wave.
Invisible to normal eyes, but clear as water to him. A pulse of pure energy expanding from a point on the horizon, growing at a speed that defied physics. It had already covered everything in his sight.
"No, no, no…" he muttered, mentally calculating its speed and direction.
CRACK-CRACK-BOOOOM
The thunder now came in rapid succession, like a cosmic machine gun. One struck a streetlight across the street, sending sparks that lit up the growing darkness like fireworks.
The screams grew louder.
"The power's out!"
"Maria, get over here!"
"This isn't normal!"
Miriam had gone quiet, staring at him. Her silence was worse than her questions.
Jhon kept calculating. The wave was approaching at an impossible speed, sweeping everything in its path. Not destructive, but transformative. He could feel its intensity even from a distance.
BOOOOM-CRACK-RUMBLE
A bolt struck the building next door. The sound was deafening, like a cannon fired inside the apartment.
Miriam covered her ears but kept staring at him.
The wave was kilometers away but closing fast. Too fast.
Jhon's eyes widened, the realization hitting him like a hammer.
"GET DOWN!"
His shout cut through the air as he lunged toward her.
The world slowed.
His feet left the ground in a desperate dive. Miriam, startled by his shout, began to crouch, but too slowly. Her eyes widened in confusion and fear, her hair floating slightly from the static-charged air.
Jhon extended his arms, reaching her just as her knees touched the floor. He enveloped her completely, forming a human cocoon with his body, his back to the window, shielding her from whatever was coming.
The air grew thick as honey. Every second stretched like an eternity. He could feel the warmth of Miriam's breath against his chest, the trembling of her hands clutching his shirt.
The wave was meters away.
Jhon closed his eyes and pressed his face into Miriam's hair, inhaling her familiar scent one last time before…
WHOOOOOOSH
It wasn't a sound. It was a sensation. Like all the air in the world had been sucked out and then expelled in a second.
The wave hit them.
Not like a physical explosion, but an invisible electric current that pierced every atom of their bodies. Jhon felt like a thousand cold light needles stabbed through him simultaneously, every cell vibrating at a frequency that didn't exist seconds before.
Miriam screamed, not in pain but in pure surprise, like jumping into a cold pool unexpectedly.
The energy passed through them, through the apartment, through all of Bogotá, through the entire world in a fraction of a second.
And then, silence.
The thunder stopped abruptly. The unnatural darkness dissipated like smoke. The sun shone again as if nothing had happened.
But something had changed.
Jhon could feel it in the air, in the way the light seemed slightly brighter, in how his senses had amplified even further. He hadn't just been touched by the wave.
He felt something more in his body, but he wasn't focused enough to analyze it now. He only knew one thing:
He'd been transformed by it.
And from the confused shouts rising from the street, he wasn't the only one.
"Jhon?" Miriam's voice sounded strange, like it came from far away. "Is it over?"
He pulled back slowly, looking into her eyes. Her pupils glowed with a greenish shimmer in her hazel irises.
"Yeah," he murmured, barely believing it himself. "It's over."
From the street came new voices, but these weren't of fear.
"I can see through walls!"
"My hands are glowing!"
"The car's floating on its own!"
Jhon helped Miriam stand, his own hands trembling slightly. Whatever had just happened, he doubted it was confined to here.
The world had just changed forever.
------------------------------------
Hello! First of all, thank you for reading.
I've posted a long chapter here, as I won't be posting tomorrow due to a family outing.
I welcome advice and any kind of constructive criticism.
Finally, please comment and give me power stones so I can get into the rankings.
Have a good night/day.
The end.