Nova's screen time was over, and reluctantly, he shut down his computer and climbed into bed.
Sleep refused to come.
His mind was restless, buzzing with ideas—codes, systems, possibilities. So he did what he always did when he couldn't sleep.
He imagined.
He imagined coding a weapon—a blade that could cut anything, but only existed for one minute. A perfect balance. Powerful, but temporary.
As he pictured the lines of code forming in his mind, something strange happened.
The air felt heavier.
Reality felt… wrong.
Almost like it was lagging.
Without thinking, he stretched his arm toward the ceiling.
A sword materialized in his hand.
Cold. Real. Solid.
Nova froze.
"This… isn't real," he whispered, his voice shaking.
He swung it at his pillow.
It sliced through cleanly, as if the pillow never existed.
His heart slammed against his chest. His eyes widened. His breathing turned shallow.
This wasn't imagination.This wasn't a dream.
And just like that—
The blade vanished.
Gone, as if it had never existed.
Nova stared at his empty hand, his mind spiraling. He thought about telling his friends, but memories of sci-fi movies flooded his mind—people with powers locked in labs, experimented on, dissected.
No way. Not happening.
He rolled around in bed, his thoughts racing, until exhaustion finally dragged him into sleep.