Mod cracked the antimatter cell.
There was no flash of light. No roaring detonation.
His mind sped up, and he watched the implosion unfold in slow motion.
To Gideon's credit, he started reacting as soon as Mod pulled out the device. His hands flew up, a dozen magical rings flaring to life as a lattice of shimmering wards sprang into being around Mod, boxing him in. Helion was half a breath behind, a beam of red-hot destruction already arcing from his visor, aiming dead center at Mod's chest.
None of it made a difference.
In physics, there is no such a thing as cold. What we experience as cold is just the absence of thermal energy. Just like darkness isn't a thing—darkness is just the absence of light.
Mod understood that. He and TINA had run extensive tests on antimatter implosions. His own personal sensors corroborated those findings. But his eyes saw something very different.
Darkness seemed to ooze out of the antimatter cell, so thick it looked like liquid. It ballooned outward, like ink flooding into water, and sucked in all light and sound. The implosion tore through magic and powers alike, negating everything in its path. Gideon's barriers dissolved like powder in liquid. Helion's eye-beams snuffed out like candles.
To their credit, they realized the problem mid-move. Gideon's eyes widened as his spells failed, and Helion's smirk dropped as his heat vision sputtered and died. For one heartbeat, both didn't look like supers but like men watching the ground vanish beneath them.
After those few milliseconds, Mod was engulfed by it, and could only sense his surroundings through his nanites. The demiplane shuddered as wards unraveled and walls bent. Metal groaned and glass shattered.
McGuire had once described the aftermath of the implosion like a giant monster had taken a bite out of his stronghold. That was exactly how Mod felt now.
Then the second phase of the implosion happened—the wave of darkness retreated, tearing a chunk out of the demiplane. Walls were sheared away. Metal squealed and filaments snapped. Intricate magic scaffolding tore and unraveled like fabric.
The demiplane didn't collapse, not right away.
But a jagged hole opened up in the wall and seawater flooded in like a dam burst. The wall of water knocked Gideon and Helion off their feet and swept them clear across the room.
Only Mod remained upright, shifting his body, anchoring his feet to the floor, and countering the rush of water with thrusters. The sound and pressure of the water grew to a roar. But even as the vault became an underwater ruin, he remained unshaken.
The magic glow of the room dimmed as mirrors were smashed against one another. Without their intricate magic locks, artifacts were torn from storage. Ancient tomes, wands, staves, trinkets, crystal orbs—dozens of priceless artifacts. They glowed like UV buoys in the water and were swept across the room.
Mod reached out, but stopped himself. He watched the rest of the artifacts drift away with envy.
They only needed one. The rest just put more targets on their backs.
Mod focused on just one—the Mirror of Borrowed Fates. Nanite tendrils secured the mirror and pulled it against the rushing water. It was bigger than he thought, a little wider and taller than his torso, but still manageable. He clutched it against his body with one hand.
The water was chest-deep and rising fast. He glanced one last time at the ruins of the vault and the two supers still recovering at the far wall. Then Mod turned and launched himself through the breach.
YOU ARE READING
Mod Superhero
Science FictionFor this cyborg, power is just an upgrade away. Emmett was used to being caught between college and his engineering internship, but when he gets caught between a powerful hero and an even stronger villain, he becomes collateral damage. Instead of d...
