Valerius stepped into the garage and pulled out his bike—not just any bike. Sleek and matte black, it looked like something between a racer and a prototype. It had pedals, but also a quiet hum beneath the frame—a compact engine that whispered technology far beyond the market. It was both humble and impossibly advanced.
He wheeled it down the drive, past the trimmed hedges and mirrored windows, until he saw Ryan waiting just outside the estate gates.
Ryan was already straddling his own ride—a regular bike. He was shorter than Valerius leaner too, with messy hair and a face built for sarcasm.
"What took you so long?" Ryan asked.
Valerius shrugged. "Had to eat."
Ryan circled around his bike like a hawk. "Come on, man. Just put in a word with your mom. I need this bike."
Valerius smirked. "Eryndor made it, not my mom."
Ryan scoffed. "Right. Of course. You and your perfect family. Everyone's a genius. Even your little sister probably builds rockets in her sleep."
Valerius laughed, kicking off gently. "Envy suits you."
"Shut up. I'm rich too, you know. My dad just won't get me a car. Says I need 'to get older.'" Ryan air-quoted as they coasted into motion.
They rode side by side, laughing. The wind rushed past them as they zipped down familiar lanes, weaving between storefronts and clumps of students heading to school. The sun filtered through rows of street trees, and the quiet hum of Valerius's bike followed them like a whisper.
---
School, as usual, was uneventful.
Valerius drifted through it like a prince who didn't ask to be royal.
The girls adored him. They lingered in hallways, snuck glances in class, giggled over his every glance. But he found most of them uninteresting—except for a few who, maybe, were okay. In his mind, beauty was rare
Everyone knew Val was strange.
He never joined sports, never entered competitions. Yet once, just to prove a point, he outpaced the middle school's track captain in a sprint—without even trying. And when the football team's strongest eighth-grader sucker-punched him during a locker room argument, the boy's wrist snapped on impact. Valerius didn't even blink.
Rumors swirled. Some said he was on something. Others claimed he was a lab experiment. No one knew the truth. But no one challenged him anymore.
And still… people liked him. He had a confidence that made boys curious and girls dangerously attached. It wasn't arrogance—it was just how he moved, how he breathed. Like someone who knew nothing could hurt him.
---
At lunch, he sat on the rooftop beside Ryan, watching the clouds drift lazily overhead. Their trays were nearly empty. A few birds hovered nearby, waiting for scraps.
Then her shadow fell across the table.
"Skipping class again?" she said, arms crossed.
Carmen.
Seventeen. Stunning. Light brown skin, high cheekbones, eyes lined with perfect black. She wore jeans and a jacket. Her presence came with heat and warning.
Valerius leaned back. "I already know everything. You're the one who's late."
Carmen smirked, stepping closer. "Had business."
Ryan stood immediately. "Yep. Gonna go breathe air. Somewhere else."
He disappeared down the rooftop door, giving Carmen a wink on the way out.
She slid into his seat, close. Too close.
"We need to talk," she said, eyes scanning his face.
---
Later that day, they walked home together.
Valerius wheeled his bike beside him as Carmen walked just slightly ahead, shoulders tense. She kept glancing back, her jaw tight.
"There's someone following me," she said suddenly.
Valerius didn't flinch. "You sure?"
"I saw them. Three guys. Two cars. Near the school. They weren't students."
He looked at her, brows low. "What did you do?"
"Nothing."
Silence.
"…Okay," she relented, biting her lip. "Maybe I ran some errands for someone. But I stopped. Weeks ago."
Val's face stayed still. His green eyes unreadable.
"God, Carmen," he said finally. "I told you to stop doing that stuff. What did you get involved in this time?"
She didn't answer.
"Carmen."
She sighed and folded her arms. "I was supposed to deliver a package, alright? Just handoff work. But… I kind of lost it."
"What was inside?"
"I don't know."
Val narrowed his eyes. "Carmen."
"I'm telling the truth," she said. "They didn't tell me. I wasn't supposed to open it."
Val looked down at the sidewalk, then back at her. "You've got to stop putting yourself in danger. Especially for money."
Her voice snapped. "That's easy for you to say. You're rich. You have everything."
He didn't argue.
Carmen rubbed her face. "I'm going to college next year. My parents work two jobs each. I'm just trying to help."
Valerius's expression softened slightly. "I know. I get it. But this… this isn't the way."
They walked in silence for a bit longer, their shoes crunching on gravel as the sky began to turn gold.
---
That night, Valerius sat alone in his room, the quiet hum of the estate like a lullaby beneath the silence. The moonlight spilled through the tall windows, casting pale reflections on the polished floor. His desk was cluttered with school books, a half-dismantled drone, and a bowl of half-eaten cereal.
On his tablet screen, old photos flicked by.
One caught his eye: he was nine years old, lifting a full metal bench over his head like it was cardboard. Daniel stood frozen in the background, mid-panic, mouth open, hands raised as if yelling at someone out of frame. Valerius smirked faintly.
Another photo followed—Lyriana, Ziraiah, Eryndor, Daniel, and himself. They were all smiling. Except him. He looked annoyed, arms crossed, standing stiffly like someone who didn't belong in the picture. Lyriana had beaten him for misbehaving.
Why blades dulled against his skin. Why bruises never lasted. Why his bones were harder than concrete.
But life went on. Strange… but normal enough.
Until the next day.
---
It was 9:42 p.m.
The night was quiet, and the estate roads were lined with soft street lamps and trimmed hedges. Valerius walked beside Carmen, gently rolling his hybrid bike as they reached her block.
He had just finished tutoring her—math, mostly. The street was calm. But the moment they rounded the corner to her house, Carmen's entire body stiffened.
Three men were sitting on the curb in front of her house.
"That's them," she whispered, voice trembling.
Valerius slowed to a stop, his eyes narrowing. The street suddenly felt much colder.
"What do you want?" he said loudly.
One of the men stood and approached.
"This doesn't concern you, kid," he said, trying to brush past.
Valerius blocked his way. When the man tried again, Valerius grabbed his wrist—firm, calm, immovable.
That's when the other two men revealed their weapons.
Guns.
Valerius's heart dropped.
Shit, he thought, glancing at Carmen.
You've really done it this time, Carmen.
"Let's take this somewhere private," the first man said.
Valerius released his grip and nodded. "Fine."
They walked together—Valerius and Carmen between them—toward a parked black car at the end of the street.
Valerius gave Carmen a long, sharp look. His voice was low and hard.
He looked away, breathing slowly.
"You've got to stop getting into things like this," he said. "You can't just flirt with the edge and expect to walk away. This isn't a game."
"I needed the money. You wouldn't understand," she said. "I've got siblings too, my parents can't do this alone."
Valerius didn't reply.
They were steps from the car now.
One of the men opened the rear door.
Valerius looked at Carmen again.
Then, in one smooth, terrifying moment, he moved.
In a flash, he punched the first man directly in the chest—CRACK—sending him flying backward several meters.
Before the others could react, his elbow rammed into the second man's temple. A third blow followed—lightning-fast, mechanical—leaving the last man sprawled and groaning.
Without missing a beat, Valerius scooped Carmen into his arms and ran.
---
He sprinted down the street, darting past stunned pedestrians and parked cars faster than any human could. Carmen clung to his shoulder, breath caught in her throat.
One of the downed men wiped blood from his mouth, pulled out his phone, and growled into it:
"They're making a run for it. Now."
---
They made it to a busier street—lights, shops, people. But the screech of tires rang out as a black car drifted into the lane ahead, blocking their path.
Valerius's muscles tensed.
From the passenger window, a hand emerged—holding a gun.
Valerius's world slowed.
Everything dimmed. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
He saw the barrel.
He saw the trigger move.
And with only one thought in his mind—
Protect her.
—he turned his back to the car, wrapping Carmen tightly in his arms as the first BANG echoed.
Then another.
Then another.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Valerius hit the ground hard and skidded across the asphalt, arms wrapped around Carmen as if shielding her from the world itself.
His body jerked once—then stopped, crumpled on the pavement like a broken shield.
He groaned, teeth clenched, breath ragged.
Blood poured down his back in slow, dark streams.
---
Screams erupted from the sidewalks.
A woman shouted, "Oh my God—someone's been shot!"
Another stumbled backward, pale and shaking. "He got shot! He got shot!"
A cyclist dropped his bike and ran.
Car brakes shrieked. Doors slammed. People ducked or sprinted for cover. Panic spread like wildfire, fast and loud, engulfing the street.
One man crouched behind a mailbox, eyes wide. "Is he still alive?! Did you see that? Did you see what he did?!"
---
Valerius, face twisted in pain, saw the round slab of iron right beside him—a manhole cover, old and heavy, the edge barely lifted from the street.
He reached out with a blood-slicked hand, curled his fingers beneath it—
And roared.
With a single burst of fury, he lifted the manhole cover one-handed and hurled it with all the force his broken body could summon.
CRRRAAAANK!
It spun through the air like a disc from hell, screaming with speed.
BANG!
The metal crashed into the side of the black car—the same one that had fired.
The impact caved the car in, shattered the side door, and threw the vehicle off balance.
WHEEEEE-KRASH!
The car tipped— flipped, and spun in the air twice before hitting the ground.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
THUD. THUD. KRRRRNNNNKKK!
It crashed onto its roof in a burst of sparks and steam, skidding a few more feet before finally slamming into a streetlamp with a metal-twisting groan.
Gasps rippled through the stunned crowd.
"He threw that?!"
"Did I... see that right?."
"What the hell did I just see?"
Someone else pulled out their phone. "I got the whole thing—I got it on camera! He threw something at the car!"
---
Carmen scrambled to her feet, heart pounding. "Lerius —Lerius!"
She dropped to her knees beside him.
And froze.
His shirt was torn to ribbons. His back was a mess of blood—but the bullets…
They hadn't even gone all the way in.
Three of them—still visible—half-buried in his flesh like jagged metal teeth. Like they'd hit a wall of rubber and stopped.
Her hands trembled as she reached toward one.
Valerius hissed sharply, his voice barely audible through gritted teeth. "Don't touch it…"
Carmen's eyes welled up. Her voice broke. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this—I didn't know it would happen, I didn't think—God, Lerius—"
She fumbled for her phone.
Dialed.
911.
"Hello?! Please—I need help! A boy's been shot! Three times! He's bleeding—he needs an ambulance right now! Belmont and Westbridge—please hurry, please!"
---
Valerius lay on his side, breath shallow and uneven.
Carmen turned back to him, barely holding herself together.
He blinked slowly, his gaze locking with hers.
"…Are you okay?" he whispered.
She choked out a tearful laugh. "I'm fine… You're the one who just got shot. I called 911."
His breathed heavily.
"No, no, you shouldn't have done that," he muttered.
---
Valerius's hand trembled as he reached into his pocket.
He pulled out his phone—its screen shattered, edges cracked. He tapped it. Swiped.
Nothing.
Just flickering lines and static.
Useless.
A quiet curse slipped past his lips.
Around him, the world didn't stop.
People had gathered—dozens of them now. Some frozen in shock. Others whispering. Many of them filming.
Phones pointed in his direction. Some zoomed in. A few people even shouted.
"Yo, that's the guy who threw the manhole!"
"Is he bleeding? Dude, is he okay?"
"Yo, he just flipped a whole car! What the—what the hell is this kid made of?!"
Flashes. Cameras.
Eyes everywhere.
Valerius groaned and lifted his arm—shielding his face from the swarm of lenses.
His jaw clenched.
He hated this.
Not the pain. Not the blood.
But the eyes.
The stares.
The feeling of being a spectacle.
He tucked his head lower and turned slightly, hiding Carmen behind him again—even now.
The crowd closed in.
And somewhere far off, he heard the sound of sirens.
But even with help on the way…
Valerius wasn't sure what would happen next.
Not when the world had just seen what he really was.
By the time paramedics came, he was already seated on the curb. He was entered the ambulance naf layed on his belly
---
Hospital — 15 minutes later
Doctors surrounded him as he lay face-down on the hospital bed, blood-soaked and in pain.
Gritting his teeth, Valerius groaned, "Hurry up and get them out… this hurts like hell."
"His vitals are perfect."
"His skin's density is abnormal. The bullet's lodged halfway."
"No internal bleeding. How?"
They cut his shirt. Probed. Took scans. No explanation.
One of the nurses, pale, whispered to another. "This is beyond human."
A senior doctor picked up the landline. "We need to inform the parents—now."
---
She appeared seconds later.
The hospital lights flickered. The front desk shook. A tall shadow walked through the automatic doors.
Lyriana.
---
To Be Continued…