Volume 1 – Spark of Sector Zero
> "They say 70% of us are born with Specs now... but that doesn't make us heroes. Some of us were just built to explode."
—Malric Grimholt
---
The city of Ordanova never slept.
Not because of dreams…
…but because of nightmares.
Neon lights pulsed like artificial veins down cracked alleyways, humming above streets worn thin by powered footfalls, gliding chariots, and the residual burn marks of failed heroics. Rain fell in rhythmic ticks, bouncing off surveillance drones and electric signage like a countdown.
There were no stars in Ordanova. Just smoke, specs, and sirens.
7:49 PM.
The ground trembled for just a second.
A shockwave, subtle but present—most civilians wouldn't have noticed it. But Malric Grimholt did.
He stood at the edge of a high-rise underpass, hoodie damp, eyes half-lidded beneath the curtain of his messy black hair. He was the kind of teenager people forgot existed until they needed someone to blame. The kind who wore quiet like armor and moved like a whisper.
In his right hand, he flipped a silver coin, repeatedly. Not for luck. For control.
The screaming started half a block down.
Malric didn't flinch.
A woman yelled. Metal screeched. Something large—a city bus—careened through the guardrails of the upper lane, its tires sparking against steel as gravity threatened to drag it into a twenty-meter death drop below.
Time slowed—not from his Spec, but from his mind.
He calculated the trajectory. Seven civilians trapped inside. One crying child. Two support cables already snapped. If it fell now, it would crush the people walking beneath the overpass—and explode from the onboard fuel cell.
He let the coin fall.
Then—
Snap.
His fingers sparked.
Malric's palms glowed faintly purple, sweat instantly evaporating as his body secreted its volatile compound. He ran—not toward safety, but into the collapse zone. One leap. Two steps up the emergency ladder.
Touch.
His hands slapped the last stable column near the bus's undercarriage. Charge infused.
He backflipped down before the overhang gave out—landing on a trash can, legs bending like a spring.
Snap.
BOOM.
The blast wasn't enough to destroy. It was just enough to redirect—a carefully angled detonation at the column's base sent the falling bus sideways, crashing instead into a lower, empty cargo bay across the road.
A miracle, some would later call it.
But Malric didn't wait for applause. He vanished into the shadows before the first responders arrived.
---
The news anchors buzzed all night.
"Unregistered Spec saves civilians!"
"Heroic mystery teen prevents bus tragedy."
"Authorities search for the unknown kinetic emitter."
But by the time the headlines hit the morning feeds, Malric was back in school—sitting silently in the far-right window seat, staring out at the city skyline as if nothing had happened.
His fingers ached. His bones felt like chalk.
But he didn't regret it.
What he didn't know…
was that his one act of interference had already drawn the eyes of people who watched from deeper shadows.
People who didn't see miracles.
They saw a weapon.
And now, they were coming for him.