The impact was devastating. Kevin went flying like a ragdoll and crashed brutally into a metal shelf. Bottles of cough syrup and boxes of vitamins rained down on him.
"Aaaagh!" A bloodcurdling scream tore from his throat as he hit the ground hard. He clutched his left shoulder with his right hand; hot blood was already soaking through his jacket.
Without giving him a second to breathe, the man in the white coat fired a second crimson spear from his wrist. Kevin, fueled by pure adrenaline and survival instinct, rolled across the linoleum floor just in time.
Clang! The hardened blood stake pierced the metal shelf like hot butter, embedding itself inches from where his head had just been.
Kevin scrambled to his feet, gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain, and tried to make a run for the exit. But a loud mechanical grinding stopped him dead in his tracks. The pharmacy's heavy iron security gates slammed down, sealing off the windows and the front door, plunging the store into a grim, dim light. He was trapped. Escape was no longer an option.
He quickly slid behind a cosmetics counter, dropping to the floor while pressing down hard on his wounded shoulder to stem the bleeding. His breathing was ragged, erratic. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, dulling his migraine slightly but sending his heart rate through the roof.
Alright, Kevin, calm down, he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Let's do a headcount: I'm locked in with a lanky freak, paler than a popsicle, who can shoot his own blood like freaking steel... And all I wanted was some damn pills!
"So, you're the famous user of the Gura Gura no Mi..."
A hissing, mocking voice echoed from above. Kevin snapped his eyes open and looked up. The guy in the white coat was crouched on top of the shelving unit, staring down at him like a predator stalking its prey.
"You're a lot smaller than I imagined," the assassin added with disgust.
Without a second thought, Kevin bolted down the aisle. But the slender man made a superhuman leap, landing with feline grace right in front of him, cutting off his escape route. Kevin slammed on the brakes, skidding in his sneakers.
"Who the hell are you?!" Kevin yelled, his face contorted in fury, refusing to show an ounce of fear.
"The name of your killer is Silas," the man replied, his macabre smile widening. "Remember it well on your way to hell."
Silas didn't waste any time. With a flick of his wrists, he unleashed a barrage of blood drops that solidified in mid-air, flying at Kevin like heavy-caliber bullets.
Kevin tried to dodge, weaving nimbly through the narrow pharmacy aisles, but Silas was alarmingly fast. The crimson bullets rained down on him, forcing him to constantly change direction. A couple of those lethal projectiles managed to graze his good arm, tearing through his clothes and leaving cuts that burned like fire.
Before Kevin could find cover, Silas manipulated the blood pouring from his palms, molding it into a heavy, solid dark-red bat. With a brutal swing and astonishing speed, he slammed it square into Kevin's chest.
CRACK!
The blow knocked the wind right out of him. Kevin was launched backward, crashing violently into a massive display of cleaning supplies. The shelving unit couldn't take the weight and collapsed with a deafening crash.
Kevin lay flat on his back amidst shattered soap bottles and dented boxes, coughing desperately for air and clutching his chest, where a massive bruise was already blooming.
Dammit... Kevin thought, squeezing his eyelids shut in frustration and helpless rage. If I wasn't locked in this stupid building, if I didn't have to worry about dropping the whole apartment block on my head... I would've crushed this clown with one punch.
His dad's rule ("No powers") had never made so much sense, nor had it ever been this frustrating. With the power to create massive earthquakes and vibrations, using any attack in an enclosed space was basically collective suicide. If he used his Devil Fruit here, the pharmacy would cave in, and he'd be crushed to death right alongside Silas.
He slowly opened his eyes, trying to focus his vision through the wreckage of the fallen shelves. But what he saw made his blood run cold, making him forget the pain for a split second.
When the massive display fell, it had exposed the adjacent aisle that was previously hidden. And standing right there, completely unharmed and unfazed amidst the chaos and destruction, was a man.
It was the old man in the Hawaiian shirt. The exact same guy who had almost gotten run over just a couple of hours ago.
Silas walked slowly down the wrecked aisle, dragging his hardened blood bat against the linoleum floor with a sickening scrape. He was taking his time, savoring his prey's fear.
But Silas made one fatal mistake: he didn't know that it's exactly in these moments of extreme pressure that people's true talents shine.
Cornered in the rubble with the old man just a few feet away, Kevin's eyes locked onto the spilled cleaning products around him. His left hand, trembling from the pain, instinctively grabbed a heavy, thick plastic bottle of bleach.
Kevin closed his eyes, tuning out the sound of the assassin's footsteps. He took a deep breath and focused as fast as humanly possible. He projected the latent power of his Devil Fruit to the absolute minimum, channeling the seismic energy not into the ground, but through his fingers and straight into the bottle.
The plastic container began to shake violently. The bleach molecules inside started to agitate and expand from the friction of the constant vibration, building up an unbearable pressure against the plastic walls.
"Game over, little boy," Silas hissed, finally looming over the fallen debris, ready to deliver the killing blow with his crimson weapon.
In that exact millisecond, Kevin chucked the pressurized bottle right at the assassin's face.
BOOM!
The container couldn't hold on another second and exploded like a liquid frag grenade in mid-air. Silas let out a bloodcurdling scream, dropping his blood weapons as his hands flew to his face. The corrosive liquid hit him dead in the eyes, temporarily blinding him and leaving him completely disoriented in a cloud of chemicals and agony.
Kevin didn't miss his window. Ignoring the infernal throbbing in his wounded shoulder, he grabbed the old man in the Hawaiian shirt by the collar and yanked him hard, sprinting through the side aisles.
They managed to duck behind the very last shelving unit in the back storage area, right next to the emergency exit door—which was also locked down tight.
Kevin slumped against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. He started hyperventilating, gasping desperately for air while the pain from his shoulder wound, piled on top of his unmedicated migraine, made him break out in a cold sweat.
"What does that man want with you, young man?"
The voice shattered the silence of their hiding spot. Kevin snapped his head around in disbelief. The old man, who had just been dragged through a literal warzone, spoke with absolute serenity, like they were sipping tea in a park instead of hiding from a bloodthirsty psycho.
"I... I'm not sure," Kevin stammered, breathing heavily, "but I think he's after my power..."
Suddenly, it clicked in Kevin's brain. He frowned, his eyes sharpening as they locked onto the old guy.
"Wait a damn minute..." Kevin's voice turned raspy. "Old man, what the hell are you doing here?! You almost got hit by a car two hours ago, several streets away!"
The old man, Master Fu, stroked his small white goatee, looking at him with calm, wise eyes. "You intrigued me. The way you moved, how you saved me despite your bad mood... so I decided to follow you."
"Why the hell were you following me?!" Kevin's voice shot up a couple of octaves, laced with pure annoyance, forgetting for a second that they needed to keep quiet. "Are you some kind of senile stalker?! We almost got killed!"
Master Fu ignored the kid's lack of respect, focusing on what truly mattered. "He mentioned you possessed a unique gift. That must be why he is trying to eliminate or capture you. Tell me, what kind of power do you have exactly?"
Kevin gritted his teeth, wincing as he pressed down on his bloody wound. "My dad calls it the power to destroy the world," Kevin replied between pants and groans of pain. "That's why I have to be incredibly careful with it. I swear, if I wasn't holding back to keep from bringing this building down on our heads, I would've wiped the floor with that lab-coat-wearing freak... though, I'd probably take half of Paris out with him. Collateral damage sucks."
Master Fu's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the sheer magnitude of the boy's claim. "The power to destroy the world..." the old man repeated, slowly rubbing his goatee. "That is very curious. And at the same time... incredibly ironic."
Kevin didn't get what the old man meant by "ironic," and frankly, he couldn't care less at that moment. Silas was already bouncing back; the assassin's furious screams and the sound of shelves being smashed to pieces were getting closer and closer.
Kevin closed his eyes, centering himself. He raised his right fist in front of his chest.
The air around his knuckles began to distort, emitting a deep, vibrating hum, like space itself was about to shatter. A faint, trembling sphere of white light—condensed and highly dangerous—began to form, wrapping around his hand.
"What are you doing, young man?" Master Fu asked, watching the strange energy sphere with fascination.
"Trying to channel my power into a single point so I don't nuke the whole damn city," Kevin replied, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he fought to keep the white sphere small and contained. "It's super hard to control... but if that bastard rounds the corner, I'm gonna shatter every bone in his body."
CRACK!
The massive metal shelving unit acting as their barricade split in half like paper. The debris went flying, revealing Silas's twisted silhouette. The assassin didn't even look human anymore. Thick blood tears streamed from his eyes, and his entire right arm had condensed into a gigantic, grotesque crimson broadsword, ready to decapitate his prey.
"Young man, look out!" Master Fu shouted, losing his unbreakable serenity for a fraction of a second.
But Kevin wasn't running anymore.
He snapped his eyes open. His normally ordinary pupils now glowed with an intense, fierce golden-yellow, reflecting the overwhelming seismic energy threatening to devour him from the inside.
With a roar that mixed pain, rage, and desperation, Kevin threw his right fist forward.
Silas's massive blood sword and Kevin's white-light-engulfed fist collided in the center of the aisle. But the clash didn't last. There was no prolonged struggle.
At the exact point where the boy's knuckles connected with the weapon's edge, reality itself seemed to surrender. Space let out an agonizing screech, as if the very air was screaming, and fractured. Brilliant, jagged white cracks expanded into the void, forming a web of pure destruction right in front of Kevin's fist.
The entire building began to shake violently with a structural groan. The walls trembled, any remaining glass shattered into a million pieces, and the paint on the ceiling started flaking off like snow.
But Kevin's genius didn't lie in the strength of the attack, but in his restraint. Inside his mind, a titanic battle was waging: if he let all the energy go, the pharmacy would cave in and they'd be crushed. He had to focus all that catastrophic force into a single vector. One hundred percent destruction aimed at a single target. A philosophy of absolute control over chaos.
Silas's body became the vessel for that physical paradox.
The blood sword yielded instantly, exploding into a shower of harmless red drops. But the shockwave from Kevin's fist didn't stop there; it traveled straight up the assassin's arm. Silas didn't go flying; instead, his body absorbed the full brunt of the seismic impact.
The sickening crunch of the bones in his arm snapping and bending at an unnatural angle echoed over the tremor. The vibration tore through his torso, scrambling his internal organs like they were jelly caught in an invisible hurricane.
Finally, feeling like his own muscles were about to tear from the sheer effort of holding the earthquake back, Kevin retracted his fist. The white sphere and the cracks in the air vanished as if they had never existed, taking the suffocating pressure in the room with them.
Silas let out a hollow groan, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed to the floor—completely broken and defeated.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of Kevin's ragged breathing as he dropped to his knees, cradling his injured arm, drained to the very core.
A few steps away, Master Fu watched the scene in pure astonishment.
The ancient Guardian was shocked by the display of raw power, yes. But what truly took his breath away was the immense weight of responsibility this foreign boy carried.
Anyone can unleash destruction when they let anger take over, Master Fu thought, staring at Kevin's trembling back. But to have the absolute power to wipe everything out, and possess the iron discipline and personal sacrifice to hold it back, to channel it, to ensure the innocent aren't hurt... that requires an unbreakable spirit.
The doubts the old man had harbored minutes ago completely dissolved. Yes, the boy was rude, irritable, foul-mouthed, and undeniably disrespectful. He lacked the idealistic purity Fu usually looked for in his holders. But Master Fu understood something fundamental in that instant: destruction doesn't need a saint; it needs a guardian who is terrified of its own consequences.
He was the perfect wielder for the Black Cat Miraculous.
Master Fu approached slowly and calmly, carefully stepping over the rubble. "What did you say your name was, young man?" he asked, his voice reflecting a deep, newfound respect.
Kevin looked up, his face pale and beaded with sweat. "I'm Kevin... Kevin Mercer," the boy panted. "And, if you'll excuse me... I have some damn pills to find."
About fifteen minutes later, the chaos had settled. Master Fu, showing surprising medical skill, had helped Kevin clean and bandage the nasty shoulder wound using some intact first-aid supplies from the floor.
Now, Kevin was sitting on an overturned cardboard box, holding a bottle of water as he dry-swallowed two painkillers, tilting his head back with a sigh of immense relief as he felt his migraine start to fade.
"Thanks for patching me up, old man," Kevin muttered, closing his eyes.
"And thank you for saving me, Kevin," Master Fu replied with a warm smile. He reached into the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. "In return, I have a gift for you."
The old man tossed him a small, octagonal box made of dark wood, decorated with strange red symbols on the lid.
Kevin, his reflexes still on high alert, caught it mid-air. He looked at it curiously for a second, frowning at the ancient design. "Real nice of you, old man, but I don't want your gratitude or your trinkets. I've had enough for one day," Kevin said, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed the box back to the old man.
Master Fu caught it nimbly and chuckled. "I insist. Please, take it. It will be very useful to you"—and he tossed it right back.
Kevin sighed, catching it again. "Seriously, thanks, but no. Sell it or something"—he tossed it back.
"It is yours. Destiny willed it so"—the little box flew back to Kevin.
"I said I don't want it!"
The absurd game of catch went on for a couple of minutes, like they were playing hot potato in the middle of a wrecked pharmacy. Finally, with his headache fading but his patience entirely depleted, Kevin caught the box with a huff of surrender.
"Fine, fine! I'll keep it. Freaking stubborn old man," Kevin grumbled, shoving it into his jacket pocket.
Master Fu gave a small, satisfied bow. "I am glad you accepted it. Use it wisely, Kevin Mercer."
Kevin rolled his eyes and, driven by sheer curiosity to see what warranted so much nagging, popped the little wooden box open.
Inside rested a dark metal ring with a simple design. "A cheap silver ring?" Kevin said, raising an eyebrow, turning his head to look at the old man. "Look, old man, if you wanted to give me a reward, you could've at least..."
He stopped mid-sentence. Master Fu was gone. He had vanished without making a single sound, disappearing like a ghost among the broken shelves.
"That old guy is super weird. I didn't even ask for his name..." Kevin sighed, shaking his head.
With a shrug, he pulled the ring out of the box and slid it onto the ring finger of his right hand.
The exact second the metal touched his skin, a blinding, brilliant sphere of emerald green light erupted from the jewelry. Kevin took a step back, shielding his eyes from the sudden flash.
When the light faded, floating lazily in the air right in front of him, was a tiny creature. It was pitch black, with a disproportionately large head, huge green eyes, and a pair of little cat ears.
The creature yawned, stretching like it had just woken up from a hundred-year nap, and stared dead at him.
"You got any cheese?" the creature asked in a high-pitched, totally unbothered voice. "By the way, I'm Plagg."
Kevin froze, jaw slightly slack, blinking at the magical floating creature. The headache threatened to come back. "What... the hell... are you?"