Even the most seasoned audience, well-acquainted with the horrific nature of containnt objects and anomalies, couldn't hold back their reactions upon witnessing the unfolding scene.
"Shit! This guy is a complete psychopath!"
"Not just his powers, even his personality seems twisted beyond repair!"
"Where's the Nine-Tailed Fox? Soone rescue it, quick!"
"Oh God, soone please save that poor child!"
The chat was a flood of horror and outrage.
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
Even the hardened agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., who were used to the unimaginable, looked at the screen with grim expressions.
Natasha Romanoff crossed her arms tightly, frowning with disgust. "So this freak got his powers under control and the first thing he does is throw a party? And he's keeping soone—no, sothing—just to torture it?"
Even her voice trembled slightly with revulsion.
Nick Fury, however, remained silent, staring intently at the monitor. His expression was unreadable, but his mind was racing. He didn't care for assumptions—he wanted to know what Jas was planning.
But no one could've anticipated what happened next.
Suddenly, the monitor flared.
A loud burst of gunfire echoed across the live feed.
Bang!
The watching agents collectively held their breath.
"Was that Jas?" soone asked with hope in their voice.
Everyone leaned in closer, waiting for the dust to settle and clarity to return. But instead of the expected result, a cold, tallic sound rang out.
Clang!
Then silence.
The agents stared, dumbfounded.
A single bullet hovered motionless in the air, suspended just one ter from the boy's head.
It was a bullet powerful enough to penetrate reinforced steel plates—designed for anti-armor engagents. According to physics and trajectory, it should've cleanly pierced the boy's skull.
But there it was. Frozen. As if ti itself had held its breath.
"What the hell?" one of the agents gasped.
Natasha was the first to react. Her eyes widened in horror.
"Ti distortion!" she shouted. "He's distorting ti now!"
Nick Fury finally spoke, his voice grim. "This makes the third anomaly we've seen. Reality distortion, spatial manipulation… and now ti? Damn it."
Onscreen, the boy flinched as though yanked from underwater. Cold sweat drenched his back. The defense he had activated had clearly pushed him to the limit.
His expression twisted into rage. Ferocity glead in his eyes.
"Untouchables…" he hissed. "You dare challenge ? You're courting death!"
Without warning, he vanished from the spot—so fast that even high-speed caras couldn't track his movent.
In a building across from the church,
Jack put down his binoculars, cursing under his breath. "Damn it. He reacted already."
Jas calmly packed away his sniper rifle and observed the building across the street.
"This guy just entered Level 2," Jas said. "He's still not fully in control of his ti-distortion abilities."
Jack looked anxious. "So what now?"
Jas listed their options without emotion. "We have two ways forward:
Use light-based weapons to attack or suppress him.
Deliver a weapon directly into his body to kill or intimidate."
Jack's face paled. "We don't have any light-based gear... and the range of the portable reality anchors we're carrying is only three ters."
Jas stood up, brushing dust from his coat. His eyes were cold and razor sharp.
"That's why I never planned to use the first option."
He turned toward the direction the boy was coming from.
"The second one has already started. Now, let's finish it."
Boom!
The concrete wall behind them buckled and cracked like it had been ramd by a charging rhino.
The boy had arrived.
Grinning like a predator, he stared up at the window.
"So the cockroach brought friends, huh?"
He tossed sothing into the room.
It landed with a sickening thud.
A mangled, twisted corpse—barely recognizable—lay in the center of the floor. From its tattered uniform, it was clear the man had been one of the field agents dispatched earlier.
"Son of a bitch!" Jack yelled, raising his weapon in fury.
Da-da-da-da!
He pulled the trigger, and the room was bathed in the muzzle flashes of his assault rifle. Dozens of bullets tore through the floor below, heading straight for the boy.
But it was useless.
In front of their eyes,
The space around the boy twisted like the surface of a funhouse mirror.
The bullets vanished the mont they touched the distorted space—sucked into a pocket of non-reality.
The boy laughed maniacally.
"Foolish insects. You think you can harm ?"
He raised his arms like a deity descending upon mortals.
"You lowly humans know nothing of my power!"
Then a voice, calm and precise, rang out behind him.
"Is that so?"
It shouldn't have been possible.
The boy reacted instantly, using both space and ti distortion to strike out.
Three ters away, Jas' left arm was suddenly contorted like soft wax, twisting unnaturally under the weight of the anomaly.
But Jas didn't flinch. His eyes—calm and deep as an abyss—t the boy's gaze directly. The boy felt a chill down his spine.
"You—"
He tried again to activate his powers.
But this ti…
Nothing happened.
Suddenly,
Jas lunged forward. A dagger, previously hidden in his hand, glead briefly in the dim light before plunging into the boy's chest.
The impact was brutal, nearly sending the boy flying.
But before he could stagger back, a pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him in place.
The boy panicked.
What the hell is happening?!
He stared down at the blade buried in his heart.
No problem.
He could heal. That's how his powers worked.
But nothing happened.
No regeneration. No spatial defense. No ti reversal.
Why?
Gasping for breath, blood spilling from his mouth, the boy felt sothing he hadn't felt in a long ti:
Fear.
Jas stared down at him coldly.
"Reality benders who ascend to Stage 3 from Stage 2 often develop a narcissistic obsession with their abilities. Even if we lie or set traps, they always think they can twist reality in their favor."
He crouched down beside the boy, gaze unyielding.
"In other words, you're easy to fool."
The boy coughed violently, crimson bubbles forming at the corner of his mouth.
His once-proud eyes now looked lost, terrified.
Jas turned to glance at the agent's body on the ground and gave a brief but solemn salute.
Then, reaching into his backpack, he pulled out a strange-looking device that resembled an old military radio.
It emitted a low hum.
"This," Jas said, "is a reality anchor."
He held it up so the boy could see it clearly.
"Within a few ters of this device, all supernatural distortions—whether ti, space, or matter—are suppressed."
The boy trembled, his muscles seizing in pain.
"No… no... But… the agent I captured said… said there wasn't any device like that in this city..."
Jas raised an eyebrow.
"Let ask you sothing."
He leaned in close, his voice cold and mocking.
"Where do you think you got that information?"
The boy's eyes widened.
Realization dawned—but too late.
"You an… I was…"
Jas smirked. "Played like a fiddle."
The boy stared blankly at the ceiling as darkness crept in from the edges of his vision.
His breath slowed. The world grew cold.
That last thought lingered in his dying mind:
I... was tricked... by that damn cockroach...?
And then—nothing.
Back at S.H.I.E.L.D.
Silence filled the room.
One by one, the agents exhaled in disbelief.
Natasha leaned back in her seat, muttering under her breath, "He actually did it."
Nick Fury said nothing for a mont. Then he spoke, his voice low and thoughtful.
"Jas… What kind of monster are you really?"
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