The leader of the task force glanced behind him at the bomb—ticking away relentlessly, its blinking lights counting down to oblivion.
Then he looked at his subordinates, who were staring at the device with barely concealed terror.
That thing could vaporize their entire existence in minutes.
He swallowed hard and turned back to Mika on the screen.
"So." He asked, his voice cracking slightly. "Which bomb will we defuse first?"
Everyone tensed.
Part of them wanted to be first—to get their own bomb dealt with, to stop the countdown, to breathe again.
But another part dreaded being first.
What if sothing went wrong? What if the expert’s instructions failed?
What if they made a mistake and everything and everyone disappeared in a flash of light?
Their minds scrambled in panic.
But then Mika smiled. A carefree, almost lazy smile that seed utterly out of place in the middle of a crisis.
"There’s no first or second." He said. "We’re going to do them all....All at the sa ti."
The silence that followed was absolute.
The leaders stared at him in wonder.
Their subordinates froze mid-motion.
Even the technicians in the command center stopped typing, their hands hovering over their keyboards as if they had forgotten how to move.
"All...all of them?" The main task force leader stamred. "You an—you’re going to lead everyone at the sa ti?"
"Dismantling all five bombs...simultaneously?"
Mika nodded. "Yep. That’s the plan." He glanced at a clock on the wall. "I don’t want to waste any more ti."
He turned to look at the officers still roaming the hospital grounds, visible through the window.
"We still haven’t found the sixth bomb. I want to wrap this up quickly so we can go search for it."
The leader’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.
"But—but that’s impossible! The coordination alone—the margin for error—"
Mika’s expression changed. His easy smile faded, replaced by sothing harder.
His voice dropped to a low, serious tone.
"I told you to trust , didn’t I?"
The leader froze.
He didn’t know why, couldn’t explain it, but sothing about this boy made a veteran like him, soone who had faced death every day and learned not to flinch, feel real fear.
And sothing else, too. Sothing that made him nod despite the nerves churning in his gut.
"Yes, sir." He said. "I understand."
Mika’s smile returned.
"Good." He grabbed the tablet Nadia had given him, tapped a few buttons, and held it up. "I’ve just sent you the schematics, protocols, and procedures for what we’re going to do."
"You should feel more confident once you see this."
All around the city, the bomb squad mbers received the file.
They opened it eagerly, desperate for any guidance—and froze.
Their eyes trembled. Their hands trembled. Voices cracked with shock.
"This...This can’t be."
"Oh my god. How is this possible!?"
"I never even thought about it this way!"
The docunt Mika had sent was thorough—painfully, ticulously, impossibly thorough.
It contained detailed blueprints for dismantling each bomb, step-by-step protocols for every stage of the process, lists of required equipnt and chemicals, contingency plans for every possible failure mode.
And the thodology—it was unlike anything they had ever seen.
They were experts in bomb disposal, trained to handle not just conventional explosives but also the more advanced devices that fused mana and science.
They had seen it all or so they thought.
But the thods Mika had outlined were completely novel. Unique. Almost impossible to conceive.
And yet, as they read, it all made perfect sense.
Every step flowed logically from the one before.
Every precaution addressed a potential danger they hadn’t even considered.
It was as if Mika was tapping into a realm of knowledge they had never accessed, a level of understanding that transcended their years of training and experience.
They were mind-blown.
One by one, they looked up at the screen, their expressions shifting from fear to awe.
They looked at Mika, this young man they had dismissed as a playboy, a pretty boy, a joke and saw him differently now.
Fauna noticed.
She puffed out her chest, a smug smile spreading across her face as if she were the one receiving the praise.
Nadia’s nose also tilted upward. She looked like a peacock preening, gloating over the admiration being showered on her beloved Mika.
Cecilia, watching from the corner, also smiled. She had never doubted him. Not for a mont.
And just then—Mika clapped his hands, waking everyone from their daze.
"But beefore anything else." He said, his voice crisp and commanding. "I need you to prepare certain things."
He pointed at the first screen.
"Group one: you’ll need a modular engine stabilizer, three quartz crystals, a twin-molecule decarburizer, the smaller model, mind you."
"Also ethereum crystals to stabilize the monoflow, and three personnel: one to coordinate, one to monitor the flux engine, and one to handle the chemical bath."
He turned to the second screen.
"Group two: you’ll need a phase inverter, a full set of non-conductive extraction tools, a thermal imaging module, and soone with steady hands. Very steady hands."
Group three. Group four. Group five.
He listed equipnt, chemicals, personnel requirents, safety protocols—everything they needed, down to the smallest detail.
The squads scrambled to comply, moving with new urgency, new purpose.
Portals opened. Equipnt was retrieved from secured warehouses. Chemicals were fetched from climate-controlled storage.
Within a minute, every team was fully prepared, standing next to their respective bombs, waiting for his command.
Mika examined the layout one final ti.
"Everyone ready?" He glanced at the clock. "Once this begins, there’s no stopping."
"So if anyone needs to use the bathroom...now’s the ti."
He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
But no one smiled. No one cracked a glance. They were all focused, all intent, all staring at the bombs with expressions of grim determination.
Mika hid a small satisfied grin.
"Let’s begin."
He turned to the first screen.
"Group one. Remove the outer casing—slowly, don’t let the sides touch. You’ll see a series of conduits inside. Identify the blue one and isolate it from the others."
He gave instructions—complicated, precise, a seamless blend of technical expertise and intuitive understanding.
Then he moved to the second screen.
"Group two. Check the modular engine housing. There’ll be a small access panel on the underside."
"Open it and look for a blue-colored casing. Pull it out, connect it to the angular frequency resonator, and give the readings."
To the third screen. "Group three. Your bomb is different—more sensitive. The chemical payload is unstable, so you’ll need to work slower. First, stabilize the temperature regulators..."
Fourth. Fifth. He moved between them fluidly, giving each team exactly what they needed, when they needed it.
His voice never wavered. His instructions never conflicted.
It was as if he could see everything, every bomb, every team, every potential point of failure, all at once.
The squads worked frantically.
Hands moved at impossible speeds. Wires were pulled. Components were extracted. Devices were attached. Schematics were consulted.
It was a massive operation unfolding across five different sites, all coordinated by a single young man who stood in a hospital command center, surrounded by screens and silence.
And Nadia?
Nadia felt her earlier grievances wash away completely.
Seeing her son orchestrate this—seeing him command these experts, direct these operations, bend chaos to his will filled her with a pride so intense it almost hurt.
She wanted to tear up. She wanted to scream to the world that this was her son, her Mika, and he was amazing.
She then glanced at Fauna, expecting to see the sa proud look on her face—probably even more so.
And froze.
Fauna was still gazing at Mika—but sothing was different.
Her eyes held the sa adoration, the sa affection, the sa devotion.
But there was sothing else now. Sothing that hadn’t been there before.
Love. Not the love of a sister, or a mother, or a friend.
The love of a woman for her man!
Nadia stared, her mind reeling. Anyone else would have seen nothing unusual, just Fauna gazing at Mika affectionately.
But Nadia was sensitive. Attuned. She noticed the subtle differences—the way Fauna’s eyes lingered, the way her lips parted, the way her body seed to lean toward him like a flower toward the sun.
It was the sa way she had been looking at him.
But quickly, Nadia’s mind rejected the thought.
It was absurd. Impossible!
Fauna was too innocent, too pure, too naive for sothing like that!
She was like a golden retriever—happy, affectionate, oblivious to anything beyond her imdiate joy.
It was just Nadia’s imagination. Her own twisted thoughts, projecting onto her sister.
She felt ashad of herself. Only she could be so perverted. Only she could look at her son and think such forbidden things.
But little did Nadia know.
Fauna was so excited right now that she was practically trembling.
Her mind raced with fantasies—dragging Mika away, extracting his milk, feeling him fill her.
Seeing him like this—so amazing, so manly, so utterly in control made her lower body grow wet and hot.
She silently ground herself against him, her hips moving in small motions. Her eyes were half-lidded, her gaze lustful and hungry.
And Nadia had no clue.
She was too busy berating herself for her own dark thoughts.
User Comments
0 comments from readers