Hermes show his true power Theo inhales the power in a desperate attempt following Hermes . The goons inhale powder. Theo snatch a radio from an unconscious guy, get save by another relics user.

  Theo quickly ducks into the alley, pressing himself against the wall near a set of green garbage bins. The smell is revolting—rotting food, dog piss—but nothing Theo hasn’t dealt with before.

  Peeking out, he hopes the giant is just protective ser—

  BAM. BAM.

  The man slams his fist against the door.

  … Yep. Definitely not from the government.

  Theo scans the ground—empty wine bottle nearby. Lucky.

  He grabs it, hides it behind his back. Now he just—

  "Wait, hold your horses."

  Huh?

  "I saw another hiding behind the electric pole ."

  Searching for him at where Hermes said. Yep. He's there. If there's two, there could be more.

  Shit.

  No hesitation. He grabs—stars appear and the world blurs—sky rushes past him. He grabs again, landing on the rooftop above.

  Goddamn it. He wants to puke.

  The headache gnawing at his skull isn’t helping.

  He forces himself to focus. Looks down.

  Five men. All in black suits and a ... gas mask?.

  Each of them has a gas mask hanging from their side, a small bottle protruding from the cheekpiece.

  One leans against a streetlamp, another flicks through a newspaper—fake as hell. A third lingers by a black van, hand resting near his belt. Watching. Waiting

  … How the fuck is he going to deal with this? He can barely take on two guys.

  "Only five? This should be easy."

  What?

  Oh. Right. God. Completely forgot about that.

  "How would you go about it?" Theo whispers. Hopefully Hermes has a good plan. He’s a god, after all—

  "Move behind them and, you know? BONG."

  … What was he expecting?

  Okay. Okay. He tries to think through the rapid heartbeat and ringing headache.

  He has one clear advantage: his power. But there's a problem.

  He doesn’t know how many more jumps he has left before exhaustion takes over.

  But the moment he smash someone heads with the bottle he's holding, it will shatters, the others will immediately notice—and he’ll lose the element of surprise.

  Direct ways are too risky, he has to depend on his ability. Can he do something else with it?

  His fingers tighten around the glass bottle. It warped with him—just like his clothes.

  Wait.

  That means—if he can carry objects with him…

  Can he transport only object?

  "Hermes, can you choose what to wrap?"

  "Well, duh. I am the Messenger of the Gods, after all. What kind of messenger doesn’t deliver parcels? I’ll have you know—"

  Theo tunes out Hermes’ rambling. That confirms it. He can transport objects.

  Which means he might be able to drop things on their heads.

  … But that’s just throwing with extra steps.

  BAM. BAM.

  The big guy slams his fist against the door again. Shit. He’s getting angrier.

  Come on. Come on.

  He needs something that will help him handle five guys. Or at least distract them so he can make take them one by ...

  Then— Right! Throwing!

  "Hermes, I can open the warp circle anywhere, right?"

  Hermes stops mid-ramble. "…You weren’t listening earlier, were you?"

  The coin sighs, somehow making the sound feel exaggerated.

  "But yeah? At least, that’s how it worked for me."

  "How do you do it? Wait, never mind—I’ll just try."

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Wow, you don't ev-"

  The stars had always appeared in front of him.

  But what if he willed them to form elsewhere?

  He focuses—imagines them shifting to his left—and grabs.

  A swirling starfield flickers into existence, this time off to his side. It surges forward—then disappears as it passes him, leaving him untouched.

  He waits for the usual dizziness… but nothing.

  That means as long as he's not transporting himself or an object, he can use the ability purely as a setup.

  Nice.

  Alright. Let’s do this.

  He'll aim for the furthest guy away, the bench guy. If he were to fake a throw from the building right behind him, they should think he is there.

  Let's open a portal in the path where the bottle would have gone him he were throwing it from the top of that building.

  Theo edges toward the rooftop’s ledge, heart pounding.

  He imagines himself back at his original position—then grabs.

  Swirling stars burst to life. The portal rushes forward, and as it forms, he hurls the glass bottle through it.

  He turns his head to the location where he was aiming to find the bottle there rocketing out.

  Predictably, it rockets out at the target destination, slamming straight into the skull of the newspaper guy.

  The man staggers, clutching his head, and drops to one knee in pain—but he’s not knocked out.

  Unfortunate.

  All the others’ attention snaps toward the kneeling man as he points to where the bottle came from. All of them runs to surround the building. All except for the black van.

  Damn it. If he had gone for the building too, he could have taken that car and rammed it straight into the abandoned building.

  It's okay, he only needs to knock him out.

  What he needs now is a weapon ... There! One of them left a metal bat behind near a wooden fence.

  With a clasp of the hand, stars swirl then he is there.

  Ducking behind the wooden and snatching the bat and holding it tightly, breath tight in his throat. Now he just need to get to the vehicle.

  He warps—stars flicker—then he’s under the van’s driver-side window.

  Holding the bat up, he lightly hit the window.

  Tap. Tap.

  Then quickly pull the bat down.

  The glass rolls down, slow. Theo grips the bat tighter, forcing himself to wait.

  A hand appears. Instincts takes over.

  Now.

  He surges up. Swings.

  BONG.

  The driver’s eyes roll back as he slumps sideways. Theo’s pulse spikes.

  Shit.

  That was loud. Too fucking loud.

  Heart hammering, Theo ducks behind the van’s rear bumper to check the others… The goons are still scouring the empty building, unaware. He exhales, finally releasing the breath he’s been holding.

  He opens the car door, and a foul wave of cigarette smoke and sweat slams into his nose. Jesus. How does anyone live like this?

  Unbuckling the driver, he lets the man slump to the ground before quickly rifling through his pockets.

  A piece of paper. A wallet. A walkie talkie.

  As he grips it, static crackles through the speaker.

  "Search thoroughly! The slippery fuck could be anywhere!"

  They could be talking about someone else… right?

  "We have to get that coin back no matter what!"

  Never mind.

  Theo climbs inside the van, searching. These guys are from a big organization—there has to be something useful here. He pops open the glove compartment.

  Bingo. Another one of those gas masks with a small bottle attached to the side.

  He unscrews the container, peering inside. Dust. The same kind as the one in the bag he’s carrying.

  Ah. So, they’re actively snorting it.

  Enhancing their physique? Possible. Or maybe they’re just incredibly addicted. Who knows?

  "WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!" He heard a from the building the are scouring.

  They’re getting pissed. He has to move. Now.

  Shutting the door and getting into the driver's seat, he turns the key.

  The engine rumbles to life.

  Okay. Time to go

  Wait.

  He doesn't know how to drive ...

  Welp.

  No time to figure it out.

  He grips the gearshift, flicking it up like he’s seen people do.

  Press the gas, lightly

  The van jerks.

  Theo spins the wheel in front of him furiously until the target is in his sight.

  He rams on the gas as the car shoots forward.

  Straight. Into. The. Fucking. Building.

  ... At least it’s empty.

  Quickly grabbing the gas mask. He wrenches the door open, leaps, and warps away just as the van crashes through the wall.

  BOOM.

  The rooftop trembles beneath him as he reappears, knees slamming into the concrete. Heat flares, flames licking the sky. Smoke curls into the afternoon sun.

  Damn.

  That should keep those bastards busy—hiding from the cops for a while.

  "Buddy... you are fucking crazy." Hermes exhales, somewhere between awe and horror. "And I am so glad you’re the one who picked me up."

  "Thank you," Theo mutters, still gasping for breath.

  He’s going to puke any second now, but exhaustion keeps it down.

  He sprawls against the rooftop, staring into the blazing afternoon sun. Thick smoke curls up from the burning building below, tinging the air with the stench of scorched wood and plastic. His eyelids grow heavy, exhaustion pulling him toward a half-conscious doze.

  Then a loud thud reached his ear. He sits up slowly at take a look.

  The building is in flames, but something stirs amid the rubble. At first, he thinks it’s just debris shifting under the collapsing roof. Then he sees them: human shapes. Their suits, now charred and hanging in tatters, reveal glimpses of blistered skin. Gas masks cover their faces, and as they force aside slabs of concrete with casual strength, the sound of thud after thud echoes across the street.

  ... Looks like the powder works as advertised. Fucking hell.

  What the hell was he supposed to do now? Fighting them wasn’t an option. Not that he was even in any shape to fight.

  Theo tries to stand, but the world spins around him. The foul taste in his mouth grows stronger, and his legs tremble under his weight.

  He desperately hopes they’ll leave, but he knows it’s a lost cause. A shout rings out below, the deep voice of the brute who nearly tore the door off its hinges.

  “Spread out! The bastard is definitely here!”

  Theo hears hurried footsteps—some getting farther away, some coming closer. Too close for comfort.

  " … you could use some of whatever they’re having…"Hermes’s voice purrs from the coin in Theo’s hand.

  Theo snorts a mirthless laugh, forcing air in and out of his lungs. “Yeah, I fucking could…”

  Theo’s eyes flit to the gas mask he swiped from the van. The one that those guys are using. He could use it - maybe gain a chance to survive. But what if he gets hooked. He cringes at the thought of turning into a junkie, of losing every dime to fuel a new habit.

  What would Ellie think?

  Their situation is already bad, even if he get out of this, he wouldn't have the gut to face Ellie.

  “Then what are you waiting for? You’ve got a handful of psychos eager to turn you into a rooftop decoration, pal.”

  "... I would rather die than become an addict." This seems like a dead end. Through his blurry eyes he try to focus but no use.

  He staggers, knuckles white against the rooftop ledge as he tries to keep himself upright.

  Then he feels it—heat flaring in his pocket as the coin grows unnaturally hot.

  “What the—?!” he gasps. “Hermes, what are you—?”

  “Sorry, kid,” Hermes murmurs “You’ll thank me later.”

  Before he can resist, the gas mask that had been on the ground appears in his grip.

  An invisible force pulls the gas mask upward, pressing it to his face. Panic seizes Theo—he tries to jerk away, but Hermes’s control is too strong.

  His protests vanish under the sharp hiss of powder flooding the mask. Inhaling sharply, Theo’s sinuses flare with cold fire. He coughs once, twice—and his vision explodes into a swirling night sky. A violent jolt of raw energy tears through every cell, his heart hammering in a painful thud-thud-thud. An ear-splitting ringing floods his skull.

  He can’t breathe. He can’t think. The power roils inside him, expanding like a balloon about to burst—

  With a final, strangled gasp, Theo collapses, eyes rolling back. His body slumps against the scorching concrete as consciousness slips away.

  The coin flared.