It gave way.
The sharp crack of the lock breaking was almost elegant—a contained, technical sound—followed by the heavy groan of reinforced wood being forced inward.
The first intruder entered with calculated movements, weapon raised, night-vision goggles active.
The others followed in formation.
The ambient lighting in the living room was still on—
Warm light reflecting off marble and glass.
The silence felt wrong.
No television.
No hurried footsteps.
No reaction.
The leader—Emir's brother—raised two fingers.
Split.
Two men moved down the side corridor.
Two remained in the living room.
One checked the stairs.
Another covered the rear.
Upstairs, Elena and Lucía could barely breathe.
Eric had been clear:
Farthest room.
Locked doors.
Absolute silence.
Lucía held her phone with trembling hands, already on a call with the police.
Trying to keep her voice steady.
"Armed break-in… penthouse downtown… multiple hostiles… yes, now…"
Elena pressed her hand over her mouth to suppress any sound.
Her heart felt like it would burst through her chest.
"He can't handle this alone…" she whispered.
Lucía didn't answer.
She didn't know either.
Downstairs, Eric stood still.
Barefoot.
Breathing controlled.
The reflection in the windows revealed shadows that shouldn't exist.
Subtle distortions in the glass—
Movement.
Six.
Professionals.
Armed.
He opened the Midas System.
Hero Mode.
The price appeared.
As always.
One coin per minute.
He accessed the Dimensional Vault—
Pulled out twenty coins—
Let them slide between his fingers for a moment.
The golden glow felt almost ironic under the soft lighting.
"Twenty minutes."
Enough.
He hoped.
He activated it.
The change was immediate.
Sound expanded.
His heartbeat slowed.
Perception split into layers.
He moved to the wall panel and discreetly shut off the apartment's internal lighting.
Darkness.
Only the faint glow of the city filtered through the windows.
"Night vision active," one of the intruders whispered.
But night vision doesn't eliminate fear.
Two men split.
One moved down the hallway.
Another checked the stairs.
Eric moved.
Silent.
Using the wall as leverage, he shifted laterally with a short, almost horizontal burst.
The man in the hallway felt the air shift—
Too late.
Eric appeared behind him.
A sharp strike to the neck.
A muted crack.
The body collapsed before a shot could be fired.
The second intruder heard something.
Turned—
Saw only a blur.
He fired.
The shot hit the wall near the staircase corridor.
Upstairs, Elena almost screamed.
Lucía gripped her hand tightly.
"They're downstairs," she whispered.
More footsteps.
More strained breathing.
Eric felt something different.
Anger.
When he realized they were willing to fire toward the direction where Elena and Lucía were hiding—
Something inside him hardened.
He hadn't intended to kill.
But now—
It wasn't a tactical choice anymore.
It was protection.
Another intruder entered the living room cautiously.
Weapon raised.
Eric descended along the side of the staircase like a predator, using the railing as leverage.
The man saw movement.
"Left!"
Too late.
Eric twisted mid-air—
Struck the base of his neck.
The man collapsed silently.
Two down.
The leader noticed.
"Fall back! Regroup in the living room!"
The remaining four gathered quickly.
Forming a tight circle.
Weapons outward.
Breathing heavy.
"What the hell was that?" one whispered.
"Did you see it?"
"It moved like an animal…"
"Was that a dog?"
"Shut up!"
The leader was sweating.
He didn't believe in myths.
But this—
This wasn't human.
Upstairs, Lucía heard them retreat.
Silence again.
Elena trembled.
"Is he okay?"
"I don't know."
Silence swallowed the space once more.
Eric remained in the shadows.
Watching.
Four.
Organized.
Trained.
But afraid.
The timer ticked in his mind.
17 minutes left.
He inhaled.
Then moved.
Not from behind this time.
From the front.
One of the men spotted him.
"Front!"
Gunfire.
Bullets tore through the darkness—
Shattering glass.
Striking furniture.
Eric moved through them.
Impossible angles.
Using the sofa for momentum.
Marble for push-off.
Walls as springboards.
He appeared inside the circle.
At the center.
The four froze—
Just for a fraction of a second.
Enough.
A shot fired at near point-blank range.
Eric grabbed the attacker's wrist—
Twisted violently—
Dislocated the shoulder.
The scream was cut off as Eric used his body as a shield.
Another mercenary tried to retreat.
Eric turned—
Elbow crashing into his throat.
Not fatal.
But devastating.
The leader fired directly at Eric's chest.
The shot deflected upward.
The sound echoed.
Upstairs, Elena dropped to her knees.
"Oh my God…"
"The police are coming," Lucía said—
But her voice lacked conviction.
Below—
The formation broke.
They were panicking.
"He's inside the circle!"
"How did he get in?!"
"This makes no sense!"
The leader stepped back, breathing hard.
And for the first time—
His eyes locked clearly onto Eric.
There was no rage.
No visible fury.
Only focus.
And that terrified him more than anything.
Eric breathed heavily.
Hero Mode amplified everything.
Heartbeats.
Gunpowder scent.
Fear.
The timer continued.
15 minutes left.
He could finish it now.
He could.
But every second had a cost.
His body would demand payment.
The leader raised his weapon again.
"You killed my brother."
Eric didn't answer.
There was no space for dialogue.
One of the men attempted a coordinated advance.
Eric moved first.
Strike to the knee.
Another to the sternum.
The man collapsed, gasping.
The leader shouted something incoherent.
Fired again.
The bullet grazed Eric's shoulder.
Pain registered—
Ignored.
Eric stepped forward.
Then—
Stopped.
At the center of the room.
Between the four of them.
Breathing heavy.
They surrounded him—
But no longer as a strategy.
Now—
It was desperation.
They stared at him—
As if facing something they couldn't understand.
"He… stopped…" one whispered.
"Why did he stop?"
The leader swallowed hard.
And realized something none of them had considered.
They weren't surrounding him.
He had surrounded them.
In the dim, fractured light of the penthouse—
With only the distant glow of the city illuminating the space—
Eric stood at the center.
Hands empty.
Gaze steady.
Air thick with gunpowder and fear.
The invisible timer ticking.
And for the first time—
The four men understood.
They weren't facing a target.
They were facing something they couldn't name.