The subway tunnel transformed into a slaughterhouse of grinding metal. Elian stood motionless while the swarm of wasps spiraled toward him, their wings humming with a pitch that could liquefy human bone. His eyes, now glowing with an unstable, prismatic hue, traced the incoming trajectories as if they were simple mathematical equations written in the air.
He thrust his hand forward.
The air distorted, rippling like heat haze over asphalt. The lead swarm didn't crash. It simply disassembled. Bolts, micro-circuitry, and jagged plating fell to the floor in a metallic rain, clattering against the rusted rails.
Sarah stared at him, her weapon dropped to her side. She didn't see a man anymore. She saw a glitch made flesh.
Elian, stop. You are burning your own neural synapses. Look at you
