My eyes shoot open.
A door creaks shut, followed by soft footsteps in the hallway.
I sit upright and glance down at my Superman pajamas. A sharp, nagging pain pulls my attention to my chest. Pulling up my shirt, I find bandages plastered across my body. My gaze shifts to my foot, encased in a cast. Broken glass… right.
Curious, I press the tip of the cast, squeezing slightly. A snap echoes through the room.
"Oops..." I mutter, ripping the cast off entirely. At this point, why not?
To my surprise, my foot is completely healed, as is my chest. Yet, that sharp pain remains. I press my chest, wincing. What is this? I rise to my feet, wobbling slightly, and tiptoe to the door. Peeking out, I catch the faint hum of a TV but hear no voices.
The hallway stretches before me, bathed in dim light. Clutching my chest, I creep forward, sticking close to the walls. At the edge of the hall, I poke my head around the corner. A pristine living room comes into view—the kind straight out of a brochure.
Should I get Spera to check it out?
I hesitate, recalling how I'd dismissed him earlier when he was trying to help. I was so rude… No. I'll handle this myself.
I dart from the corner to the back of the sofa, crouching low. My eyes scan the room. Coast clear. I roll to the left but step on something soft.
A yelp pierces the air.
I freeze, turning slowly. A steampunk dog lies curled on the floor, exhaling long streams of steam with each breath. A valve on its back hisses as it recharges. A black case beneath it flashes a glowing "20%" in red.
What the heck is that?
I back away cautiously, but I bump into something solid.
Turning, I look up—and up—and up.
A towering man looms over me, his frame massive enough to dwarf even Shaq. He's clad in a sharp gray suit and apron, a spade-shaped beard framing his face. A small bandage adorns his cheek.
I gasp, stumbling into a sitting position.
The giant bends down and effortlessly lifts me to my feet with two fingers. "Sorry, sir. Are you okay?" His voice is calm, polite.
I stare up at him, my jaw slack with disbelief. Shaking off the shock, I assume a battle stance. He tilts his head, puzzled, then turns and signals for me to follow. Rubbing his stomach, he strolls ahead.
Reluctantly, I tiptoe after him still in battle stance.
The man leads me to a dining room, the table piled with breakfast delights: orange juice, coffee, cookies, and a golden fried omelet.
"Eat up," he says, gesturing grandly.
I look at him. He stares back.
What's his deal?
I stare harder.
He stares even harder.
Ping! The toaster ejects its toast.
"AAAAAGH!" I roar instinctively.
Spera materializes beside me, launching forward in a flurry of attacks. The giant man freezes momentarily, caught off guard, before Spera's rush sends him crashing into the wall.
Spera?!
"Nox!" he yells back, his energy crackling.
The man groans, his roar reverberating through the room. Moving impossibly fast for his size, he lunges, a massive palm strike aimed at Spera. Spera rockets toward him like a bullet, the impact shaking the ground. The man grits his teeth, pinning Spera to the floor with sheer force.
This man isn't normal…
I unsummon Spera, releasing him from the giant's grasp, then resummon him midair as a spring. Spera coils tightly, launching himself at the man with explosive speed. But the giant raises an arm in defense, absorbing the hit with ease.
Spera flies backward toward me. I unsummon him again just in time to prevent him from crashing.
The man charges at me. What now? I prepare to summon Spera once more—
"Whoa, whoa, calm down!"
A voice rings out from the doorway.
Both the giant and I pause, turning toward the source.
A boy stands there, brown-skinned, his nervous smile trembling.
"Let's all relax and eat," he says, holding his hands up in surrender.
The giant straightens, instantly adopting a butler-like demeanor. "Yes, sir," he replies smoothly.
I blink in confusion, still clutching my chest as I glance between the boy and the giant. What have I stumbled into?