His feet slammed against vertical stone as if the wall had become horizontal ground made only for him. The first impact sent hairline fractures spider-webbing outward like black lightning frozen in ancient masonry.
The second step deepened them.
The third turned the cracks into deep, jagged fissures that groaned in protest.
He was running straight up the side of a three-story mansion like it was nothing more than a gentle slope.
His right hand shot forward. Fingers punched straight through the decorative stone ledge as though it were warm butter. The grip was absolute — stone crumbling between his fingers like dry sand.
With one explosive pull he launched himself sideways in a perfect, impossible horizontal arc, body parallel to the ground, utterly defying every law of momentum and trajectory.
Mid-air, time itself stretched into something luxurious and heart-stopping.
The world slowed to a glacial, golden crawl.
