Queens on a rainy night; the air was thick with the smell of rust and mildew.
Freezing rain pelted down rusty fire escapes, kicking up murky ripples in oil-slicked puddles.
Beside a movie ticket stub trampled into the mud, blood was spreading.
A glaring, piercing red.
Still steaming.
Ben Parker was curled beside a dumpster, blood gushing between his fingers as he clutched his right shoulder.
Just seconds ago, he had been laughingly mocking movie visual effects for looking fake.
Now, his face was deathly pale, his faded gray jacket stained a dark, gory red.
No slow motion, no tragic soundtrack.
Real-world violence came too fast for fear to even take root.
There was only the ringing in his ears and the sickening, metallic reek of blood in his nose.
Leon Parker froze in place.
A drop of warm liquid splashed near the corner of his eye and trickled down his cheek.
His father’s blood.
“Leon…”
Ben Parker wheezed weakly, his blood-soaked hand gripping Leon’s ankle tightly, trying desperately to drag the boy behind him.
“Run…
Run, quick…”
The old man’s voice was shattered and raspy, yet it struck like a sledgehammer, shattering the paralysis in Leon’s mind.
He jerked his head up.
Out in the blind spot of a dim streetlamp, three shadowy figures fanned out and closed in.
The thug in the lead held a cheap revolver, wisping blue smoke from its barrel.
His murky, yellowish eyes held no reverence for life—only a hyena-like greed.
“Damn old bastard.”
The thug with the gun spat out a wad of phlegm, casually snapping the dark barrel around until it was centered right between Leon’s eyebrows.
“Hey, kid, hand over that watch on your wrist, and your wallet.
Hurry up!”
The other two lackeys let out grating snickers, flick knives flashing in the faint light.
A sixteen-year-old body was trembling.
A biological instinct in the face of death.
His heart pounded frantically in his chest, fingertips numb, breath coming in sharp gasps.
This was Marvel.
No Spider-Man swinging down to save the day—that nerd Peter was probably still fretting over tomorrow’s chemistry exam.
The lives of ordinary people here were cheaper than dirt.
“Hurry the hell up!”
Losing his patience, the gunman stepped forward, swinging the pistol butt brutally toward Leon’s forehead.
“No!”
From the ground, Ben Parker found a sudden burst of strength, kicking out hard with his good left leg against the thug’s knee.
The kick was weak and soft.
But it thoroughly enraged the criminal.
“Old man, you want to die faster, is that it?!”
Stumbling back, the thug snarled in embarrassment and rage, swiveling his gun back toward Ben Parker’s head.
His index finger pressed down on the trigger.
In that instant, everything slowed down in Leon’s eyes.
He watched his father’s face twist in pain, watched the old good-for-everyone who always said “With great power comes great responsibility” about to turn into a corpse.
A scripted death?
Making him a sacrifice for the protagonist’s growth?
Screw the plot!
A violent surge of fury shot up his spine to the crown of his head.
*Thump!*
A heavy boom detonated in Leon’s mind.
On his left wrist, the black-and-white watch that had served as nothing more than an ornament for fourteen years suddenly vibrated.
A searing electrical current pierced his skin, coursing upstream through his veins and instantly igniting every nerve in his body.
The world changed.
The dim, chaotic alley was instantly covered in a cascade of green data streams.
The terrifying scene before him was deconstructed into cold, hard data.
[Target A: Armed.
Distance: 2.3 meters.
Weapon: .38 caliber revolver.
Firing delay: 0.4 seconds.]
[Weakness: Incorrect grip posture, center of gravity leaning left, worn firing pin.]
In an instant, the terror in Leon’s eyes vanished completely.
In its place was the absolute composure of a higher-dimensional predator.
The sensation was surreal.
It felt as though he had been a blind man trapped in a cage, but now God had laid out the source code of the universe right before him.
A gift from the Creator.
Tactical Analysis Module online.
As long as there is power…
Leon looked down.
The face of the Omnitrix glowed with a faint green light, its core popping up to reveal intricate mechanical inner workings.
The light was not dazzling, but it pulsed with a heart-stopping rhythm, like a mechanical heart waking from slumber.
[Extreme emotional fluctuation detected.]
[Omnitrix restriction lifted.]
[Recommended tactic: Annihilation.]
*Annihilation.*
The word rolled across the tip of his tongue, leaving a sweet taste of blood behind.
Time snapped back to normal speed.
The gunman’s finger was pulling the trigger.
“Die, old bastard!”
Just a split second before pulling the trigger, he caught sight of the boy’s eyes.
That was not a look any child should have.
Indifferent.
Frigid.
Like looking at a corpse that had already rotted.
“Now…
it’s my turn.”
The boy raised his left arm, his right hand slamming down onto the popped-up dial with decisive force!
*Snap!*
A sharp mechanical click rang clearly through the rain.
No fancy transformation sequence.
Only pure destruction.
*BOOM—!!!*
A blinding flash of green light swallowed the dingy alleyway.
A terrifying heat wave radiated violently outward from Leon.
The puddles on the ground vaporized instantly into white, scalding steam.
Ben Parker instinctively closed his eyes, awaiting death.
But the expected gunshot never came.
In its place were bloodcurdling screams from the thugs.
“Aaargh!
My eyes!”
“So hot!
What the hell is this?!”
Overwhelmed by the intense heat, Ben Parker forced his eyes open.
The sight before him made him forget the agonizing pain in his shoulder.
The green light dissipated, steam twisting and rising in the intense heat.
The skinny boy was gone.
Standing in his place was a terrifying creature formed entirely of scorching rock and living flame.
Beneath its dark-red rocky hide, molten golden-red magma flowed like veins.
With every breath it took, visible sparks puffed into the air.
Raindrops were vaporized three feet above its head before touching the ground, producing a harsh sizzling sound.
The monster slowly lifted a burning hand and tilted its head.
Its voice sounded like grinding stones—deep and suffocatingly ominous:
“Which hand…
was holding the gun just now?”