Johnny walks through the city heart. Steps slow, deliberate.

  Sun bleeds across the skyline. Screams rip from a building.

  Raw, panicked.

  Three Firecracker men hold hostages—men, women, children.

  Ropes bite wrists and ankles.

  Two wield swords. A junior Captain stands, crest gleaming, grips a gun.

  “Those who rebelled against Captain Sonia must die,” the Captain declares. Flat. Final.

  Two sword-wielders drop dead. Dull thuds. No warning. Just consequence. Faster than sight.

  A gun presses cold to the Captain's temple. “Being a killer is one thing,” Johnny says, low, even. “Targeting children? That’s a deadly red flag.”

  The captain’s eyes flick sideways. “Who are you?”

  Johnny’s finger tightens.

  A wall explodes inward. Dust flies.

  A figure bursts through.

  Johnny leaps, dodges a crackling bullet. A heartbeat off — grazed bone avoided.

  The male Elite with white hair steps forward. Eyes narrow. “This the Alligator?”

  The Firecracker Captain shrugs. “Perhaps.”

  The building shudders. Eight Elite fighters emerge. Guns trained. Johnny’s eyes calm. Still. Focused. Stone.

  The white-haired cocks his gun. Cold smile. “Dude’s calm. Threatening.”

  Lightning-fast, Johnny grabs two children. Slips them out.

  Awareness narrows — saving lives costs.

  The white-haired searches. The Firecracker Captain snarls. “Seems like a superhero.” He presses a gun to a child’s temple.

  Johnny reappears outside. Sets kids down. Tears stream. “Please, mister, my mom…”

  Johnny flicks a glance. Warmth, fleeting. “She’ll be safe.”

  Inside, Johnny manifests.

  The white-haired lunges.

  Subtle tap to knee.

  He reels.

  Balance broken.

  The Firecracker Captain freezes.

  Wrist empty.

  Pistol gone.

  Johnny seizes two hostages.

  Fades. Drops kids far outside. Ropes fall. Tiny legs pump. Dust swirls.

  He bursts back. Eyes stone. Hostages dead. Shot. Lifeless.

  Darkness creeps into Johnny’s gaze. Fist clenches. Restraint fraying.

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  The Firecracker Captain moves.

  Bullet meets temple.

  Drop.

  Puppet strings cut.

  Elites charge.

  Johnny’s hand blurs.

  Clean.

  Deadly.

  Wheat falling.

  Timing slightly off.

  Still precise.

  The white-haired lunges.

  Gun spits fire.

  Johnny ducks — hair’s breadth.

  Twin blurs.

  Light and shadow.

  Gunfire fills the air.

  One elite locks eyes. Steps forward. Gun aligns.

  Johnny steps back.

  Sideways weave.

  Bullet erupts.

  Chest. Collapse.

  Two steps.

  Remaining fall.

  Silent.

  Invisible force.

  Timing, not speed.

  The white-haired remains.

  Eyes widen. Recognition.

  Johnny behind him. Temple press. Alarm flashes. Perception spikes.

  Slips away.

  Six guns materialize mid-air. Trained on fading form.

  The white-haired stands still.

  Eyes shut. Cold smile. Full concentration.

  Guns erupt.

  Johnny dissolves like a hologram.

  Bullets zip.

  Home in.

  Graze arm, thigh, foot, neck. Shallow, cumulative.

  Chipping control.

  No flinch. Eyes lock. Focus sharp. Breath heavier. Timing tighter.

  The white-haired's smile spreads. Eyes closed. “Now this is fun. Glad he’s growing weak.”

  Concentration guides guns. Mind weaponized.

  Across the distance, three Mercury members race the cityscape. Footsteps constant beat.

  “You know where he is?” Paloma, tense.

  “Yes,” Nina's eyes flicker. “Reality swap. Track resonance.”

  Her ability… impressive, Paloma thinks.

  They cut through buildings. Shadows among sun. Speed unrelenting.

  Another three Mercury members sprint across the other side of the street. Human Rights offices destroyed.

  Ellen skids. Head cocked.

  “What?” Maxwell asks.

  Ellen unfocuses. Pressure, not sound.

  “Look that way,” she says.

  Two Elite fighters.

  Ellen vanishes.

  Flash.

  Bodies explode.

  Spray.

  Shion and Maxwell beside. Eyes scanning.

  Ellen points to empty sky. Then she drops her hand and closes her eyes.

  “Something’s wrong…” Shion says.

  Air thickens. Weight descends.

  Ground trembles.

  Crash.

  Buildings shudder.

  Fury’s Edge. Massive. Leader of Elite. Gravity bends. Presence palpable.

  Shion shivers. “Never felt this before.”

  Maxwell, Shion level guns.

  Ellen’s eyes snap open, narrowing into slits of fury. A massive, rotating black mist vortex erupts around her, growing larger, more menacing.

  The mist—a violent high tempo with a heavy force that shakes the wind itself.

  The sky turns dark. Fog covers the cloud.

  Fury’s Edge throws his head back, laughter echoing through chaos.

  "I never expected to see you, of all people. The scariest Daughter of the legendary Saturn. Ellen, the Dark Mist.”

  Her eyes blaze crimson, fueling the swirling darkness.

  Johnny vs guns reaches brutal peak. Bullets graze. Stumbles. Wall collides. Control slipping.

  The white-haired opens his eyes. Cold smile. “Can’t keep up.”

  Johnny defiance burns. Tries to rise. The white-haired's fist hits gut.

  Falls.

  “My reality swapping. Gun parade,” the white-haired punches Johnny's cheek.

  “You will not evade my bullets parade if you don’t snap out, fool,” he taunts.

  Drags Johnny by shirt.

  “A grieving heart weakens mind. Stand. You’ll still fall.”

  “Oh no,” a gun at the white-haired’s temple.

  Spike. Paloma. Nina. Precision strike.

  The white-haired falters.

  Foot to face.

  Stumbles.

  Kicked down. His guns vanish. Out cold.

  Fury’s Edge targets Shion, Maxwell. Palm slams Maxwell.

  The air cracks.

  Shion fires.

  Too slow. Grabbed.

  Ellen’s mist surges. Hand grips Fury’s Edge.

  Vice-tight.

  Pulls him. Distance gained.

  Shion gasps.

  Fury’s Edge stumbles.

  Ellen drags him into building.

  Concrete cracks. Shudders.

  “Never expected you. Work with the Alligator?” he mutters.

  Ellen spins.

  Mist explodes.

  Ground cracks.

  Fury’s Edge backpedals.

  Air screams.

  Buildings fracture.

  Fury’s Edge crashes.

  Earth splits.

  Ellen reappears.

  Eyes pitch black.

  Mist strains.

  Fury’s Edge chuckles. “Can’t beat you without Fury’s Edge, huh?”

  Ellen charges.

  Fury’s Edge smashes the ground with both hands.

  A massive force sends Ellen flying like a projectile.

  He stands tall.

  A monstrous weapon materializes in his grasp, curved blades glinting.

  A wind rotates around him. But fades.

  "My Fury’s Edge blades cut through whatever they slice.”

  Ellen bursts back into view, fury blades flashing inches from her face.

  She slips away — barely.

  Air holds.

  Ground tears.

  Earth quakes.

  Ellen manifests inches away. Eyes turn back normal. Body trembles. Backlash hits. Collapse.

  Fury’s Edge chuckles. “Such power takes time to control."

  He strides closer. "You failed today because your perception of your gift isn't complete."

  Her fog fades.

  Fury’s Edge. Footsteps pounding closer.

  "Those that possess deadly weapons or gifts like yours are on the first stage. Without growing your mind to perceive what it is or how it fully works makes you limited."

  Threat lingers.

  Fury’s Edge stalks, blades ready. “Beloved daughter of Saturn… I end you.”