The name spread faster than Rasheed ever could.
By the next morning, children all over the neighborhood were pretending to race through the streets, their jackets tied around their necks like capes.
“I’m Red Pulse!”
“No, I’m Red Pulse!”
“You have to make the lightning sounds!”
One little boy sprinted across a playground, making exaggerated whoosh noises as the others laughed.
Teachers smiled.
Parents shook their heads.
No one knew who the mysterious rescuer really was.
But everyone knew the name.
⸻
Rasheed sat quietly in the back of his classroom, staring out the window.
He could hear it.
Students whispering.
“Did you hear about Red Pulse?”
“My uncle said he saved twenty people.”
“My brother thinks he’s a government experiment.”
“I heard he isn’t even human.”
Rasheed lowered his head.
He never wanted attention.
But hearing children talk about Red Pulse made him feel something unexpected.
Hope.
For the first time since his father disappeared, people in the city had something to believe in.
⸻
Adesewa slid into the seat beside him.
“You’ve been smiling a lot lately.”
“I have?”
“You don’t notice when you do it.”
She leaned closer.
“You’ve changed.”
Rasheed stiffened.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at him carefully.
“You seem… lighter.”
Before he could answer, their literature teacher entered the room.
The conversation ended.
But the question stayed with him.
⸻
Across the city, Omar’s world was changing just as quickly.
He stood in the Helix Dynamics training arena wearing the blue suit.
It no longer felt unfamiliar.
It felt like part of him.
Dr. Sato circled him slowly.
“Again.”
A dozen combat drones rose from hidden compartments in the floor.
Blue targeting lasers swept across the arena.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One.”
The drones fired.
Omar moved.
Blue lightning exploded beneath his feet.
The first drone shattered before its projectile left the barrel.
The second spun through the air in pieces.
The third never saw him coming.
Within seconds, the arena fell silent.
The Director watched from above.
“Reaction time?”
“Zero-point-zero-three seconds.”
“Running speed?”
“Still increasing.”
The Director folded his hands.
“And Subject Pulse?”
Another screen appeared beside Omar’s statistics.
Security footage from the warehouse fire.
A crimson streak weaving through smoke.
“Our projections show they’re becoming stronger at nearly identical rates.”
“Good.”
The Director smiled.
“Continue observing.”
⸻
That evening, Rasheed returned to the abandoned research facility.
His father’s map led him through another forgotten corridor until he reached a heavy steel door covered in warning symbols.
OBSERVATION CHAMBER SEVEN
The words had almost completely rusted away.
His father’s warning echoed in his mind.
Never open this door alone.
“So why did you leave me the map?”
He placed his hand against the door.
It was cold.
Too cold.
As though something on the other side had never felt sunlight.
He searched nearby until he found a manual override wheel.
With a deep breath, he turned it.
Metal groaned.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
The door slowly opened.
Darkness waited beyond.
Rasheed activated the flashlight on his phone and stepped inside.
The room was circular.
Observation windows lined one wall, all shattered from the inside.
Broken computers covered the floor.
In the centre stood a single reinforced chair surrounded by thick cables.
It looked less like laboratory equipment…
And more like a prison.
“What happened here?”
His flashlight landed on the wall.
Words had been scratched into the steel.
Not written.
Scratched.
As though someone had carved them with their bare hands.
TIME REMEMBERS.
Another message.
DO NOT LISTEN TO THE VOICES.
Then one final sentence.
Fresh.
Far newer than the others.
HE IS NOT DEAD.
Rasheed’s breath caught.
His father.
He rushed closer.
The writing continued beneath the sentence.
HE IS WAITING.
Suddenly—
The room trembled.
A deep metallic groan echoed through the chamber.
Every monitor flickered to life at once.
Static filled the screens.
One by one…
The static disappeared.
Every monitor showed the same image.
A crimson storm.
Floating pieces of buildings.
Broken clocks suspended in the sky.
The Chronal Zone.
Then…
A figure walked into view.
His face was obscured.
But his voice was unmistakable.
“…Rasheed.”
His knees nearly gave way.
“Dad…?”
The image distorted violently.
The man’s mouth continued moving, but the audio broke apart into bursts of static.
Only three words came through clearly.
“…don’t…”
“…trust…”
“…Kronis.”
The monitors exploded.
Glass showered across the room.
The lights died instantly.
Silence.
Rasheed stood frozen in the darkness, breathing hard.
His father hadn’t just survived.
He had sent a message.
Somehow.
Somewhere.
And he had warned him about someone named Kronis.
Far above the city, inside the ancient clocktower, the hooded man slowly looked up.
A smile spread across his face.
“So…”
“You finally made contact.”
Behind him, hidden within the shadows, another voice spoke for the first time.
“It is earlier than expected.”
The hooded man closed his silver pocket watch.
“Which means…”
“…Kronis has begun to lose control.”
Outside, the hands of every clock in the city skipped forward by exactly one second.