Lightning_speed
As he reached the center of the shadow, he saw the ship’s hull beginning to tear. A massive shard of titanium was shearing off, aimed directly at the city’s primary oxygen scrubber. If that fell, the city wouldn't just be crushed; it would suffocate.
Silence followed, broken only by the sound of sirens. Kaelen sat behind the fountain, his heart hammering at a thousand beats per minute, sweat pouring off him. A girl standing nearby blinked, looking at her hands. She had been in the direct path of a falling brick, but now she was standing five feet away, safe.
He moved before his brain could even process the fear. He sprinted toward the impact zone, his sneakers smoking against the pavement from the sheer friction of his velocity. He didn't have the strength to stop the ship, but he had the time to change the outcome. lightning_speed
"Did you see that?" she whispered to no one. "It was like... like a flash of lightning."
Kaelen searched for a solution. He found a high-tension crane cable, snapped and whipping through the air at a snail's pace. He grabbed the frayed end—the heat of it searing his palms even through his gloves—and began to run. He looped the cable around a structural pier, then back up toward the falling shard, creating a makeshift web of steel. As he reached the center of the shadow,
Should we focus on the of his powers on his health?
He wove through the crowded plaza, gently repositioning pedestrians who were seconds away from being crushed by falling debris. He moved a child three inches to the left. He nudged an elderly woman behind a reinforced pillar. To them, it would feel like a sudden, inexplicable gust of wind. Silence followed, broken only by the sound of sirens
Kaelen lived in a world where time was the only currency that mattered. In the city of Orizon, citizens were biologically tethered to the Chronos-Grid, a system that tracked every heartbeat and every second spent. Most people moved at a standard human pace, but the "Glitch-Born" were different. Kaelen was one of them.

