The sound of the doorknob turning rang out in the silent lounge as clearly as a bell.
Lucas huddled in the shadows of the corner, his presence completely erased by [Absolute Stealth].
His breathing was filtered into nothingness by the system, his heartbeat suppressed to near-stagnation, and even his body temperature merged with the environment.
But his eyes were alive.
Those eyes stared fixedly at the doorway like two venomous snakes lying in wait in the darkness, waiting for their prey to step into attack range.
Kimiko crouched less than half a meter away from him.
The door opened.
Shockwave walked in.
His movements were at least twice as slow as when he had left.
The arrogance and confidence he had shown when walking out of the tunnel had completely vanished.
On that face, which had been captured by close-up shots and was filled with resentment and confusion, there was now a heavier layer—exhaustion.
It wasn’t physical exhaustion, but the hollow kind that comes after the spirit has been drained.
He walked to the vanity mirror, propped his hands on the table, and lowered his head, staring at the tips of his toes.
“0.003 seconds.”
His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself, or perhaps accusing fate.
“I practiced hard for three years.
Three years.
Waking up at four every morning.
Running until I vomited and then kept running.
And him?
He does drugs.
He chases girls.
He doesn’t train.”
His fingers slowly tightened, nails digging into the wooden tabletop.
“Just because he’s one of The Seven.
Just because he’s more famous than me.
So the winner is always him.
0.003 seconds?
Bullshit.
That 0.003 seconds was cobbled together with decimal points by Vought’s PR team.”
He suddenly snapped his head up and smashed a fist into the vanity mirror.
Bang!
The mirror shattered.
Shards of glass sliced his knuckles, and beads of blood seeped out.
But those tiny wounds stopped bleeding quickly; while nowhere near as freakish as Kimiko’s, it was still far beyond an ordinary person’s.
“It’s not fair.”
Shockwave’s voice turned hoarse, as if he were crushing something in his throat.
“This world has never been fair.”
Lucas tightened his grip on the knife.
His plan was simple.
Use the knife to cut into the back of Shockwave’s neck, inserting it into the gap between the skull and the spine.
Death would be complete within 0.1 seconds.
No struggle, no sound, not even much blood would flow.
His breathing stopped completely.
His heartbeat was suppressed by the system to less than twenty beats per minute.
His eyes didn’t blink, his pupils reflecting the patch of tanned skin on the back of Shockwave’s neck.
Now.
Lucas’s right hand was like a bolt of black lightning, carrying all the kinetic energy generated by 75 points of strength, stabbing straight toward the back of Shockwave’s neck—
Five centimeters.
Three centimeters.
One centimeter.
Just as his blade was about to touch the skin.
Shockwave moved.
It wasn’t an active dodge, but an instinct faster than consciousness.
A Speedster’s body, once trained to the limit, develops a near-precognitive reaction to any danger signal.
Sound waves, changes in airflow, static induction on the skin—these subtle signals that even ordinary Supes couldn’t capture were the strongest alarms in a Speedster’s nervous system.
In the split second as Lucas’s knife first touched his skin, Shockwave’s body lunged forward.
Lucas’s knife grazed the back of Shockwave’s neck, the blade leaving a shallow bloody scratch on his skin.
He missed the vital spot.
The Medulla Oblongata was not severed.
It was just a graze.
Then, everything spiraled out of control.
Shockwave’s pupils constricted violently in the mirror.
He didn’t see anyone—Lucas was still invisible—but he felt it.
The killing intent carrying the scent of death that had attacked from behind.
His instinct made a judgment faster than he could: someone was launching a sneak attack from behind.
Not an ordinary person.
A Supe.
Capable of invisibility.
Shockwave’s body completed three movements within 0.1 seconds.
Left foot stomped the ground, body rolled forward to open up distance.
Right hand pushed off the floor, using the momentum to spring up and turn around.
Legs slightly bent, entering a combat stance, ready to burst into extreme speed at any moment.
“Fuck!”
Lucas cursed in his mind.
The assassination had failed.
Shockwave had already turned around, facing him directly—though he couldn’t see him, the feeling of being locked on was like having a gun pointed right between his eyebrows.
Shockwave’s eyes were full of horror and rage.
“Who?!” he roared, his voice exploding in the lounge, “Who’s there?!
Come out!”
His gaze swept across the empty room, over the storage bins, clothes racks, and vanity, finally landing on the shadow in the corner.
There, he saw someone.
It wasn’t Lucas.
It was Kimiko.
She wasn’t invisible.
She was wearing a dark gray hoodie, crouching in the gap between the storage bins and the wall.
There was no expression on her face, but her eyes were alive—those black, cat-like eyes were staring fixedly at Shockwave.
Shockwave’s eyelid twitched violently.
“Who the fuck are you?”
His attention was drawn to Kimiko.
This was exactly what Lucas needed.
The moment Shockwave’s gaze locked onto Kimiko, Lucas moved.
He didn’t rush at Shockwave.
He had already verified that in a frontal assault, even with the cover of [Absolute Stealth], his speed could hardly pose a fatal threat to an already alert Speedster.
He needed a different tactic.
He needed Kimiko.
Lucas moved quickly to Shockwave’s flank and rear, then reached out and lightly tapped Kimiko on the shoulder.
This was their pre-arranged signal.
One tap meant “strike.”
Two taps meant “retreat.”
One tap.
Kimiko’s body was like a machine that had been switched on, instantly catapulting from a standstill.
She drew a Boning Knife from her hoodie sleeve, the blade flashing with a cold light as it stabbed straight toward Shockwave’s chest.
The corner of Shockwave’s mouth curled into a disdainful sneer.
Too slow.
To an ordinary person, Kimiko’s speed was as fast as a pouncing leopard.
But to a Speedster who could run at supersonic speeds, her movements were like slow-motion footage in water, every detail clearly visible.
Maybe it’s not a big deal now… maybe it will be later.
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”