Chapter 151: True Flight
Liam appeared, hovering above the runway of his private island, his figure steady in the warm afternoon sun.
Beneath him, the strip of asphalt stretched for five kilometers in a perfect line, its edges framed by swaying palms and the faint shimmer of heat rising from the surface. Beyond that, the blue vastness of the ocean glittered in all directions, calm and endless.
He rose higher into the sky, slowly at first, just enough to take it all in. From this vantage, the entire island unfolded beneath him like a green jewel cast into the ocean — beaches curving like ivory crescents, the forested interior whispering with wind, the runway cutting a sharp, deliberate line across it all.
Liam allowed himself a small smile. The view alone was intoxicating, but today wasn’t about sightseeing.
Today was about pushing the limits.
He dropped back down and landed at the far end of the runway, his sneakers clicking faintly against the asphalt. His chest rose and fell in a deliberate breath as he steadied his mind.
Here on his own island with no one to see, he would finally find out just how far, how fast, and how high he could go.
He stretched his neck, rolled his shoulders, then spoke softly:
"Lucy, track everything — speed, altitude, g-forces and my bioinfo. I want every scrap of data."
"Understood, All metrics will be monitored in real time."
He nodded, exhaling again. Then once more, for good measure. His heart thrummed with anticipation, excitement tangled with a hint of anxiety. This was the unknown.
Liam closed his eyes briefly, drew one final breath, and then —
He shot forward like a bullet.
The ground blurred beneath him as the world roared alive. Wind lashed at his face instantly, flattening his hair, tearing at his clothes like invisible claws.
The force pressed hard against his body, but he embraced it, leaned into it. His pulse surged as exhilaration flooded through him.
This wasn’t like running, nor driving, nor even teleporting. This was raw, unfiltered freedom — the kind of freedom only birds and dreams had known before.
The runway vanished behind him in streaks of gray and black. His speedometer in the Glass flickered upward:
100 mph. 200. 300.
The sensation built with every second. The air became a solid wall he had to punch through, rattling his bones. His blood surged with adrenaline, and yet he laughed — actually laughed — at the sheer insanity of it.
400. 500. 600.
The edges of sound barrier screamed around him. The world narrowed to a tunnel of rushing blue and silver. His body was filled with power and every cell alive with motion. He realized then that flight wasn’t just movement. It was communion with the elements — the air, the speed, the pressure.
And then — BOOM.
The sound barrier shattered. A thunderous crack exploded in his wake, rolling out across the ocean like a storm. Waves rippled violently below from the concussive shockwave.
760 mph. Mach 1. He had broken the sound barrier. He has gone supersonic.
Liam grinned wildly, eyes burning from the wind, as he pressed harder.
800 mph. That’s when the strain began.
A migraine bloomed behind his eyes, it was sharp, and searing. It felt as though his skull were vibrating from the inside and his brain being rattled by invisible hammers.
His nose ran wet and when he touched his lip, he blood smear across his fingers, whipped instantly away by the wind.
His breath came out ragged, not from lack of oxygen, but from the sheer pressure on his body, the mental burden of maintaining control at such velocity.
Still, he continued pushing himself.
850. 880. 900.
And then it stopped. No matter how much willpower he poured into his telekinetic thrust, the number refused to climb. His head was spinning and his vision has tunneled to a point that he could barely see. He could feel his consciousness teetering on the edge of blackout.
"Enough—!" he growled through clenched teeth, cutting off the push.
The world blurred past as he decelerated, streaking across the end of the runway in a controlled descent. His sneakers hit asphalt hard, skidding, until he let himself collapse backward onto the ground. He lay flat, staring at the endless blue sky above, blood still trickling faintly from his nose.
The ringing in his ears was unbearable, his skull pounding like war drums. Yet even through the haze of pain, he smiled.
"Max speed... nine hundred miles per hour," he muttered hoarsely. "Mach one-point-one. Not bad for a first flight."
"Confirmed, Lucy reported. "However, mental strain reached critical thresholds. Any attempt to sustain Mach speeds risks permanent neural damage, though it will be immediately healed by the axotol and the starfish regenerative genes. Recommend limiting cruising velocity."
Liam chuckled weakly. "Noted."
He lay there for several long minutes, breathing, letting the ache ebb away. Slowly, his head cleared, and his nose stopped bleeding. He sat up, wiping away the last crimson streak with the back of his hand.
"I will limit my cruising speed to five to six hundred," he decided. "That’s more than enough. I will go faster only when I need it."
Already, he was imagining it — streaking across countries in hours, continents in a single afternoon. One day, his flight might just be teleportation.
The thought made him smile again.
He rose, hovering gently from his seated position, then turned toward the sea. Without hesitation, he shot forward again.
The island fell away behind him. Ocean stretched infinite ahead, shimmering like liquid glass under the sun. Liam lowered himself until he skimmed mere feet above the waves.
At 500 mph, the effect was breathtaking. The sea erupted in his wake, a massive spray shooting outward in twin walls behind him. The pressure carved a trail across the water’s surface, a roaring corridor that followed his flight.
Liam laughed again, exhilarated, lowering one hand to the waves. The impact stung like slapping stone at that speed, but he relished the sensation — water spraying wildly, dragged upward in glittering arcs. The ocean hissed beneath his touch, his fingers tearing furrows across its surface.
To anyone watching from afar, it would have looked like a god racing across the sea, the ocean itself bowing in his path.
Minutes passed in a blur. Wind screamed, waves exploded, and Liam felt more alive than he ever had.
Finally, he tilted upward and shot into the sky. The sea dropped away beneath him as he climbed higher and higher.
At 7,000 feet, wisps of cloud brushed against his shoulders, it cool and damp like mist. He stretched out a hand and laughed softly as it passed right through, leaving moisture across his skin.
He rose further, punching through thicker banks of cloud until the world beneath disappeared into rolling white. At 15,000 feet, the sun burned hotter, brighter and unobstructed. He leveled off and started gliding smoothly.
But his curiosity stirredz as he wanted more. He tilted his gaze upward, toward the deep blue bleeding slowly into black.
He climbed again. 20,000 feet. 25,000.
The air thinned and he hs lungs strained for breath. The sky darkened around him, the world below shrinking into miniature. For a fleeting moment, he thought he might actually break free, might touch the edges of space itself.
But at 27,000 feet, the warning signs came. His breath caught, his head swam. The migraine threatened again, sharper, heavier. His limbs felt heavy, sluggish, as if the atmosphere itself were chains dragging him down.
"No," he hissed, shaking his head.
He angled downward, descending rapidly, until the air thickened again around him. At 15,000 feet, he leveled off, steady, breathing easier.
Below, the clouds parted to reveal endless ocean once again, stretching toward the faint outline of distant coasts. Liam hovered there for a moment, chest heaving, a grin tugging at his lips.
He had done it. He has achieved true flight, breaking sound, skimming the ocean, touching the clouds, rising into the thin air where only eagles and dreams dared soar.
He hovered in silence for a few seconds, then turned toward a random direction, his smile widening. With a thought, his body blurred forward, streaking across the sky, leaving only a faint ripple of disturbed air in his wake.