The black sedan lay silent, save for the rhythmic dripping of sap from a freshly felled tree branch. Inside, Ciano sat rigidly in the driver's seat, his hands still gripping the wheel, his jaw literally slack. His gaze was fixed on the rearview mirror, where Richard floated just outside the car, surrounded by the prone forms of the armed men. Ciano's mind wrestled with what he had just witnessed.
He… he just did that, Ciano thought. Fifteen men. In seconds. No gun. Just… power. Like a ghost. He didn't even touch them. My boss… what is he? I can't believe my eyes. This isn't just magic tricks or special forces training. This is… something else entirely. Something… beyond. His professional skepticism, honed over years in high-threat environments, had not just been shattered; it had been atomized. He felt a shiver, not of cold, but of awe, tracing down his spine.
