“Without ado,” Vega chimed.
And—the world lurched.
A low rumble rolled through the void. Deep. Thundering.
Then another. And another.
The ground shivered beneath Nate’s feet. Then—
Boom!
A shockwave ripped through the space. The sky darkened. Winds howled, twisting the air into a vortex.
Then—thump.
Something hit. Hard. Like a titan’s fist slamming down. The ground buckled.
Nate staggered, heart hammering.
What the hell—
Cracks snaked beneath him, splintering fast. The void shattered like brittle glass.
Something was forcing its way through.
A deafening crunch. Then—
The world erupted.
Buildings speared upward like jagged teeth. Skyscrapers. Neon-lit shops. Billboards flashing ads in languages he didn’t recognize.
A chunk of concrete whistled past his head.
Nate ducked. Swore. Jumped back—just in time to dodge a flying slab of steel.
Shit!
Roads paved themselves beneath his feet as he landed.
Cars. Trucks. Buses. Appearing mid-motion. Tires screeching. Horns blaring.
Pedestrians shouted. Talked. Moved.
A city had formed around him.
And it was alive.
Honk!
Nate flinched.
A truck—right behind him!
“Oh shi—”
He dived to the side. Rolled onto the footpath.
The driver leaned out, cursing.
Nate barely heard him. Heart pounding. Breath sharp.
Too close. Too real.
Despite it all being in his head.
He swallowed. Pushed himself up.
People stared. But didn’t care.
The city hummed around him—neon flickers, engine growls, the distant murmur of thousands going about their lives.
Nate exhaled, scanning the streets before turning to Vega.
His lips curled.
“Cool.” A beat. “Now. Where do I start?”
“Let’s start with something small,” Vega said. “How about… that guy?”
A tug on Nate’s chin.
He let it happen. Turned.
And saw him.
A tall figure lumbered down the street, spiky hair dyed a striking red. His steps swayed—half-sober, half-drunk. Dark bags hung under his eyes.
He passed Nate. Stepped into the crossing.
Gold flashed at his neck, gleaming under the streetlights.
Then—ink.
Tattoos.
Nate knew instantly.
A Villain.
These bastards had wrecked the tattoo industry so badly the government banned it outright. No citizen could get one now—because of them.
“Straight ahead,” Vega pointed. “He’s going to blow that convenience store.”
Nate’s gaze snapped to the five-story building across the road.
Ground floor—a dozen people inside. Apartments above—even more. Too many lives.
His jaw tightened.
“No, he won’t.”
Nate locked onto the guy.
[Structural Awareness]—focused. Activated.
His vision shifted.
Information flooded his brain—faster than thought. The color and fabric of the man’s shirt. The blood-alcohol level surging through his system. The way it fed into a fatty liver already struggling.
Height. Build. Weight. Bone count. Teeth count.
Wounds—where they were, how long he’d had them, what caused them.
And more. Too much. Needless noise.
Then—
A screen materialized:
- - - -
Name: N/A
Level: 15 | Rank: E | Class: Pyromancer
Profession: Villain
Resources: N/A
Stats:
- Apl: 25
- End: 39
- Vig: 31
- Str: 43
- Dex: 32
- Int: 25
- Percep: 29
- Mana: 35
Skills: N/A
- - - -
Nate scanned it. One look, and he knew.
A fight? Not happening.
His stats weren’t even half this guy’s. He’d get thrashed in seconds.
Mag Shift? Out.
Sequencer? Out.
That left one option.
[Hivemind].
Talk him out of it. Solve it peacefully. If possible.
The man crossed the road. Headed straight for the store. Pushed the door.
[Hivemind]—activated.
Nate’s forehead pulsed.
First—whispers. Then voices. Shouts. Cries.
Hundreds. Thousands.
All at once.
Need to pay rent—
Where’s my damn phone?
She doesn’t love me anymore—
Buy eggs. Buy eggs. Buy eggs—
His vision blurred. His skull ached.
Too much. He needed to filter.
Nate focused—sharpened.
Through the glass—locked onto the man.
The Villain—arguing. Face fuming. Hands slashing through the air.
Nate pushed harder.
Slowly—he could hear him.
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From this far.
Feel his anger. His impatience.
The static dulled. The flood of voices narrowed.
Until only one remained.
I need banana. I need banana. I need banana…
Over and over. The only thing in his head.
Out loud, he shouted—“I need the banana sandwich!”
He slammed a fist on the counter. “The fucking banana. Yellow shit. My shit. You know. It’s long. It’s tasty.”
Across from him, the cashier—young, steady. Polite.
“I’m really sorry, sir, but we don’t have that in stock at the moment,” she repeated, calm as ever. “Perhaps you’d like vanilla cream? Or chocolate? Maybe caramel nuts?”
He wasn’t listening.
Banana. Banana. Banana.
Ringing in his head like a broken record.
Nate grinned. “It works!”
He could read minds.
But then—
…Banana… It works!
The man's thoughts shifted.
“Why can’t you understand, lady—” He froze. Blinked.
A heartbeat of silence.
Nate stiffened. His pulse hammered. Did he notice?
What works? I need banana. That works. Banana… Banana…
The villain shrugged and carried on.
Nate exhaled, pressing a hand to his chest. That could have gone so wrong.
But now, he understood. Spoken words fed into the target’s thoughts. But his own? Silent. Untouched.
A weapon. A tool. He just needed to see how far he could push it.
His lips parted.
“Chocolate looks good too,” he whispered.
The villain’s thoughts stuttered. Skipped. Then—
…Banana… Banana… Chocolate looks good too…
“Banana. That is what I—” The man froze again. Blinked again.
But this time a wave of Confusion flashed across his face.
What the fuck was that?
His eyes snapped wide. Spooked.
He looked around. Searching.
Nate’s pulse spiked. That definitely works.
His grin stretched wider. A dangerous skill, this was.
The guy started to turn—
Vega’s voice cut in. “Don’t let him spot you, Nathan. Your connection is active. He will find you.”
He can do that?
Nate’s head snapped up.
Act natural.
He admired the streetlight.
So, it works both ways.
He exhaled.
Gotta be careful.
“Whatever.” The man waved off the stray thought. “Where’s my banana…”
His head went back to: Banana… Banana… Banana…
Nate pushed further.
“Oh man, that chocolate sandwich looks nice. Let’s buy one for Mom too. She must be hungry. Waiting for me.”
The thought slipped in.
Banana… Oh man, that chocolate sandwich looks nice. Let’s buy one for Mom too. She must be hungry. Waiting for me.
Then—
“WHAT THE FUCK!”
The guy jerked back. Eyes wild.
My mom’s dead.
Shit.
Nate froze.
Then groaned, facepalming.
He could do better than that.
Nate pushed in.
“Mom’s dead. Yes. That’s why I need to buy a chocolate sandwich and offer it to her. Her favorite.”
…What’s wrong with this shop—Mom’s dead. Yes. That’s why I need to buy a chocolate sandwich and offer it to her. Her favorite.
“YO, BRO!”
The Villain practically jumped out of his skin.
His scream was so sharp, the cashier and other shoppers ducked for safety.
Then—
My mom liked bananas. I fucking hate her.
Come on!
Nate threw his hands up, turned—nearly punched the streetlight.
Stopped himself just in time.
Teeth clenched.
Mind-altering wasn’t easy. Definitely not.
Nate inhaled. Held it.
Then let it out. Loud.
Fine. Once more.
He locked onto the man—lean build, muscle-packed.
This should work.
He turned to the wall, face twisted into something deranged, just in case.
Then, he whisper-screamed into the Villain’s mind:
“Buy that fucking chocolate sandwich, you motherfreaking piece of shit! Or I’ll fuck you up, head to toe, no bone spared. It’s your goddamn father’s ghost.”
The thought slammed in.
What is wrong with me? I need bananas— Buy that fucking chocolate sandwich, you motherfreaking piece of shit! Or I’ll fuck you up, head to toe, no bone spared. It’s your goddamn father’s ghost.
“OH, HELL NAH!”
The guy screamed so loud, his own hair caught fire.
Then—he ran.
Bolted for the door.
“FUCK THIS SHIT. FUCK THIS SHOP.”
The words shattered the air as he disappeared down the street, terror in every step.
The connection faded.
The noise returned. Distant at first. Then roaring.
Nate exhaled.
That worked. But damn if it wasn’t messy.
Then—
My father is fucking alive!
The connection snapped.
The flood of voices slammed into Nate like a tidal wave.
His skull pounded.
All he could do was bang a fist against the wall.
“Fuck off!”
[Hivemind] Deactivated.
.
.
.
That… could have gone a lot better.
Nate exhaled, sinking into the chair.
The café was the first thing he’d found after that mess. If this had been the real world, he’d be strangling himself already.
Lucky for him—it wasn’t.
Didn’t make it any less of a blunder.
He had a powerful skill. The guy was an idiot. And yet, he’d fumbled.
Sure, it worked. The villain ran. But what if he hadn’t? What if he’d snapped? Lost it completely—blown the store to hell?
What if that hadn’t been some random shop?
What if it had been the Roko-Mart below his apartment?
So many deaths. So much blood.
On whose hands?
Nathan Morgan. The one and only.
His fingers curled. Pulse thrumming.
“God, I was sloppy.”
The thought pressed against his skull. No—not just a thought. The ache was still there. A dull, lingering reminder of [Hivemind]’s toll.
He grabbed his coffee. Took a sip.
Grimaced.
Too hot. Tasteless.
But at least the headache eased. A little.
[Hivemind] didn’t drain much—1 mana per minute. He’d checked.
But the headache?
Annoying as hell.
Didn’t matter that his resources were full—his brain still felt like it had been wrung out.
Vega had explained it. The brain’s a muscle. Force it to work in ways it’s not used to, and it’ll fight back.
Use [Hivemind] enough, and the pain would fade.
Obvious solution.
Exactly what he used to drill into his students at the dojo.
Nate exhaled. Rolled his shoulders. The headache still throbbed, but whatever. Push through.
“And don’t make the same mistakes twice.”
He was already working through the problem—breaking it down.
“Minds are sensitive. They pick up the smallest inconsistencies. Gut feeling—we call it that.” He leaned back, rubbing his temple. “I went too hard, too fast. Should’ve listened to him. Should’ve eased in. Match his thought pattern instead of slamming into it.”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
“You deal with an idiot by thinking like one.”
A pause. Then—a smirk.
“Next time… I’ll be smarter about being stupid.”
He nodded to himself. Yeah.
Pushing up from the chair, he headed straight to the counter.
“How much for the coffee?” he asked. “Cream. With sugar.”
The cashier beamed. “That’ll be two dollars and fifteen cents, sir.”
Nate reached for his back pocket. Empty.
Right. No wallet. He didn’t sleep with his wallet.
Wait—this café wasn’t even real. The whole city was in his head.
He didn’t need to pay.
But then he looked at the cashier—bright-eyed, beaming, completely unaware of his dilemma.
Didn’t want to ruin that.
What do I do? He forced a smile, still patting his pockets like he’d find something.
“How about trying [Hivemind]?” Vega suggested. “It’ll be good practice.”
Want me to lie to her? he shot back in thought.
“She’s a figment of your imagination, Nathan. She isn’t real. No feelings, no consequences.” Vega’s voice was firm. “This is Sandbox. Use it.”
Nate exhaled. “Fine.”
He met the girl’s eyes—blue, jewel-like. She smiled even wider.
He almost felt bad. Almost.
But she wasn’t real.
[Hivemind]—Activated.
Since he was already focused, the noise didn’t hit as hard.
Just her thoughts and emotions. Clear. Happy.
That’s a handsome fella. Nice eyes. Jaw. Nice shirt too… Wait, he’s looking at me. Checking me out? Do I look good…
Nate smirked. For $2.15, he could clear a few tables.
Then—
…Why do I even care if I look good? Josh likes me. That’s what matters.
And just like that—she ruined it.
His smirk faded. Brow twitched. Sighed through his nose.
Josh.
Of course, there’s a Josh.
He wasn’t even trying to flirt, but still—it stung, a little.
Focus.
“…This guy seems like he doesn’t have money. Oh, you poor guy. But wait, doesn’t he look like Josh’s friend. It’s only $2.15. Maybe I should let this one slide. Just this once. Josh would like me even more. Yes. He’ll love me.” Nate whispered.
His words took hold of the girl’s thoughts.
… I wonder what Josh is doing…This guy seems like he doesn’t have money. Oh, you poor guy. But wait, doesn’t he look like Josh’s friend. It’s only $2.15. Maybe I should let this one slide. Just this once. Josh would like me even more. Yes. He’ll love me.
The girl blinked. Hesitated. Then her expression softened.
“You know what?” she said, still smiling. “This one's on the house.”
Nate exhaled. Smirked. Damn. That was easy.
She didn’t resist. Not even a little.
“Better,” Vega chuckled in his mind. “That’s why subtlety and context matter. It’s not just about slipping thoughts in—it’s about making them feel natural. Seamless. Like their own ideas.”
A pause. Then—
“You did well.”
“Yup.” Nate’s smirk widened, chest swelling. He was getting the hang of it.
Then—he took a sip of coffee.
Bitter. Watery. So tasteless he could puke.
He forced it down with a grimace. Definitely a shitty café.
And before the headache could get any worse, he shut the skill off.
Without another word, he pushed open the door and stepped outside.
First thing—cup gone.
Dropped into the roadside bin. Wiped his hands.
Back to business.
“Let’s practice [Hivemind],” Nate muttered, scanning for a target.
“Sure. Want a bigger scale?” Vega’s voice came smooth as ever.
Nate raised a brow. “Like how big?”
“Like that big.”
A tug on his chin—his head tilted up.
His stomach dropped.
A fireball.
The size of a damn truck.
Roaring. Through the night sky.
Barreling straight for him.
“Oh, fuck.”