[New Talent Acquired: Instant Drive]

[The user can reach maximum speed from a complete standstill, skipping the normal acceleration phase.

Movement begins at full output the moment the body commits. This applies only to straight-line movement. Each activation consumes 30 energy]

Francis read the description twice.

Then he read it a third time, slower.

’No acceleration phase.’

That was the detail that mattered most.

Every talent he owned up until now — Muscular Acceleration, Spring Joints, Kinetic Calibration — they all worked by building momentum.

One layer stacked on top of another until his speed peaked.

The process took fractions of a second. Not long by any normal measure.

But in a high-level fight, fractions of a second were everything.

This talent removed that window entirely.

The moment his body decided to move, it was already moving at full speed. No wind-up. No tell. No gap for an opponent to read and respond to.

’That’s why Trajectory Reading kept failing against him.’

The answer had been right in front of him the whole time.

His cognitive talent worked by reading the early signs of a movement — the micro-shift in weight, the tensing of a shoulder, the pull of a heel off the ground.

It needed those signs to paint the ghost-lines.

Vance gave it nothing.

One moment he was standing still. The next, his fist was already at Francis’s face. There was no in-between moment to read.

The straight-line limitation also made sense in hindsight.

During the fight, Vance never changed direction mid-dash. Every approach was a straight charge. Every retreat was a clean line back.

It looked like aggression. It was actually a boundary.

’And the energy consumption.’ He paused. ’No wonder he was careful about overusing his abilities in his prime. This kind of ability would drain him dry.’

Francis leaned his head back against the wall.

Instant Drive was powerful, but using it carelessly would leave him drained at the worst possible moment.

It demanded planning. Commitment. He could not activate it on impulse the way he used his other talents.

’One clean entry. One clean exit. That’s the smart way to use it.’

He thought about how it paired with what he already had.

Momentum Breaker stopped him at full speed and released everything into a single point of impact.

Instant Drive brought him to full speed without any warning, effectively solving Momentum Breaker’s weakness.

Together, they formed a two-part sequence. Close the distance in a blink. Stop dead on arrival. Transfer all of it into one strike.

The problem was cost. Instant Drive alone ate 30 points Momentum Breaker added around 10 on top of that.

One attack like that would drain more than half of his reserves.

’It’s a finisher,’

That was the correct way to frame it. Not something to use throughout a fight. Something to end one.

Francis checked his current status.

=====

Name: Francis Hall

Category: 4

Liver Count: 3,055 / 10,000

Energy Levels: 12 / 70

Status Effect: Body Lock (6 Days)

=====

Infestation – Level 4

Parasite Eyes – Level 4

Parashift – Level 3

Integration – Level 3

Berserk Mode – Level 2

=====

--Elite Talents--

Instant Drive (New)

Momentum Breaker

--Rare Talents--

Vibration Sense

Trajectory Reading

Chain Drive

--Uncommon Talents--

Kinetic Siphon

Kinetic Damper

Kinetic Calibration

Muscular Acceleration

Shockwave Emission

--Common Talents--

Reinforced Spring Joints

=====

His eyes dropped to his remaining energy. Too low for any testing tonight.

He folded his arms and sat down to recover.

By early morning, he would take his time, first consolidating his new abilities before heading to the central areas.

What he needed right now wasn’t more liver, but better control over his humanoid body and innate talents.

His eyes closed.

For the first time in a long while, there was no target in front of him.

No sound worth tracking. No decision left to make tonight. Just silence.

And for someone like Francis, silence was the closest thing to rest.

.

.

.

.

.

Few hours earlier.

’Where am I?’ Samantha tried to speak, but her throat was too dry.

Her eyes were open, but her mind took a few extra seconds to catch up.

The ceiling above her was bare concrete, grey and uneven, with a single bulb hanging from a wire at the center.

It gave off a weak yellow light that barely reached the corners of the room.

Samantha stared at it and tried to remember how to breathe normally.

Her chest rose. Fell. Rose again.

The pain came next. It started as a dull pressure at her side, then sharpened as her body fully woke up.

Carefully, she pressed her hand against it.

Bandages. Tight and clean. Someone had wrapped the wound properly.

She tried to push herself up from the bed, but her body gave out, so she stayed down and looked around.

The room was small. Bare walls. One door. No windows.

A folding table sat against the far wall with a medical kit open on top of it, its contents partially used.

Nothing about the room felt familiar, which made her nervous, thinking she might have been kidnapped.

Her breathing quickened.

"Where am I. Who brought me here. How long was I out."

The questions came all at once, piling on top of each other without answers.

Then the door opened.

A man stepped in. He moved without noise, the way people moved when silence was a habit rather than an effort.

He was somewhere in his mid-forties, with a lean build and a face that carried no particular expression.

Short dark hair. His clothing was plain — dark formal coat, black pants, black shoes.

He carried no visible rank. But everything about him said he was not someone who stayed behind desks.

His eyes found her immediately. "You’re awake."

Samantha pulled the blanket up slightly, her body tensing.

"Who are you?"

"John" He moved to the folding table and checked something on the medical kit without looking at her.

"I was hired to pull you out. You lost a fair amount of blood, but the wound is clean, and I administered the special drug on time. You’ll survive."

She studied him.

He didn’t seem interested in making her comfortable, but he also didn’t seem like a threat.

"Hired by who?" she asked.

"Your father."

The tension in her shoulders dropped slightly.

"Um... why didn’t you just take me to the hospital?"

"Because from this point forward, Samantha Liner is dead. You won’t be going back to your old life."

"What?" Her voice came out smaller than she intended.

John finally turned to face her. "Your father’s orders."

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

The words were there. She could feel them. But her throat closed around them before they could form.

"Dead..."

She looked down at her hands. The knuckles were scraped.

There was dried blood under two of her fingernails that the bandaging had missed.

Yesterday she had a name. A reputation. A life that took years to build.

Now a stranger in a dark room was telling her it was already gone.

"I—" She stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. "My father decided this without even asking me?"

"I don’t know what Mr. Liner’s plan is. I’m just doing what I was tasked to do."

"What does that even mean!" she snapped.