Sam stopped five meters away. Wind blew debris between them. The city's hollow silence buzzed like static.
His breathing was calm now. But his brain was firing at full capacity.
You have one shot. No strength. No power. Just speed. Mind over matter.
Sam clenched a sharp chunk of broken glass in his left hand. In his right—three smooth, heavy stones.
He wasn't planning to fight. He was planning to blind.
The only weak point... is the eyes. That's all I need.
And then, before Draco even moved—Sam moved first.
But the movement didn't begin with his limbs.
It began in his mind.
He issued a mental command to his nervous system—simultaneously telling both arms to throw. One would release the glass. The other, the stones. But not at the same time.
Slight delay. Just enough to create a blind spot. The illusion of a single threat hiding a second.
Throw with left. Then right. 0.7 second lag.
His brain relayed the instructions through the motor cortex. That electrical signal raced down the spinal cord into the peripheral nerves of both arms.
His body understood. His muscles primed. His arms began to move.
He threw.
The shard of glass shot first—like a glinting spear straight toward Draco's face.
Then, almost instantly—but not quite—the stones followed.
A 0.7 second delay. Invisible to the eye. But not to a killer.
Draco reacted.
It moved.
Not to attack. To dodge.
Because the glass, while useless against its armored hide, could still pose a threat if it struck the eye. Even Draco knew that.
So, it instinctively tilted its head sideways—not far, just enough—to avoid the incoming shard.
Exactly as predicted…
But as that glass shard skimmed past its cheek—it saw something else.
The stones. Hidden behind. Hurtling with more speed. More weight. More force.
That was the true threat.
Draco's pupils contracted. It saw it. It knew.
But seeing wasn't the same as reacting.
It had already committed to the first movement. Already lifted its massive arm for a vertical swing.
That swing was already in motion—guided by its earlier brain command.
And biological law remained true for even the most evolved predator:
One neural command at a time. 0.3–0.5 seconds. No more. No less.
Draco's brain had issued two orders:
Tilt head.
Swing blade.
To overwrite that, it needed another half second.
But that window had passed.
The stones collided with the glass midair. Right in front of Draco's big eyes.
A shattering burst—a calculated explosion.
Glass fragments scattered in all directions. Not large shards. Not jagged spears.
Micro-particles. Razor-fine dust, near invisible.
Against Draco's skin—they were meaningless. Harmless.
Its scales reflected every shard.
But its eyes—exposed, glistening, vulnerable—absorbed the damage.
One eye took the brunt.
It shrieked. Recoiled. A stream of viscous green-black fluid leaked from its iris.
The other eye blinked rapidly, assaulted by a haze of micro-blades.
And then—the sword came down.
Sam had already begun to move—to dodge, to roll, to escape the inevitable arc of that bone blade.
He knew the blade would come. He knew the timing. He had calculated everything down to the millisecond.
But his body was too slow.
He was a genius. A cyber-mech engineer. A master of timing and motion.
But he wasn't a warrior. He wasn't built for raw speed.
His agility couldn't match the velocity of that monstrous swing.
The blade tore through his left arm—from the shoulder down.
Blood exploded outward. A scream—raw and primal—ripped from Sam's lungs.
His body slammed onto the ground. His vision spun.
He had lost an arm.
But he had gained a chance.
Draco reeled backward. Vision clouded. Body heaving. It swung its arms wildly—blinded.
No ears. No nose. No light in its world anymore.
It was now a beast of pure muscle… with no direction.
Sam coughed blood, gripping his torn side. Breathing was fire. But his mind was still awake.
This was it. The best I could do. I never planned to kill it.
Only blind it. Only survive.
"Now… run…" he whispered to himself, trying to stand. "Even if I never get another chance like this to kill him … even if I can't reach its heart… we can live by running."
"Dad, let's go home." I said to dad with a relax expression.
Darian watched his son with a veteran's sharp eye. To a man forged in countless battles, this was no ordinary fight—it was a masterpiece of strategy, timing, and unyielding spirit.
My son... he's more of a force of nature than any monster I've faced.
Sam's back was turned toward Darian. He couldn't see Draco.
Draco had healing powers, so he healed fast.
Then, the Draco lizard, its eyes now dull black, unleashed a furious roar, leaping into the air with the intent to crush Sam beneath its monstrous weight.
"Sam! Move—dodge!" Darian's voice cut through the chaos.
Sam's body reacted on pure instinct, twisting sideways as the lizard crashed down.
The aftershock threw him harshly, pain exploding through his already battered frame. Blood poured freely now, the adrenaline that had once numbed the agony fading rapidly.
KIRA's calm, mechanical voice buzzed softly in his ear:
"Warning: Blood loss critical. Adrenaline levels dropping. Stabilize or risk syncope."
But before the Draco could strike the killing blow, time seemed to slow—the air thickened, as if the world itself held its breath.
Beneath the distant roar of destruction, an immense force stirred—Mother Earth awakening from a deep slumber.
Just a silent surge of power that rippled through the very ground beneath their feet.
The energy radiated outward, vast and ancient, infused with something no human had ever witnessed before: the raw power of nuclear weapons, repurposed by Earth itself as a shield against the tearing rifts from the cosmos.
With a sound like thunder rolling through the skies, the air vibrated.
The massive, invincible Draco lizard suddenly halted mid-air, pinned and crushed by the invisible, unstoppable force of Earth's awakening.
Its strength—once a nightmare made flesh—was rendered powerless.
And then, as if speaking directly into the minds of every living being, a voice echoed inside Sam's head and Darian's alike:
"I am Earth. I slumbered while my children struggled, but the rifts—those tears in the fabric of reality—have awakened me. The energies of nuclear fire, once forged to destroy, are now mine to wield. They scorch the rifts, hold back the alien darkness creeping through space."
"Yet, this is but the beginning. I am not enough. My children, you must grow stronger. Close these rifts. Fight with all your might. I grant you the chance to rise."