Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System! - Chapter 282

Chapter 282: S.S—SARAH Saving Emma

Oh. Shit. The universe didn’t just hit pause. It slammed pause, like a remote thrown against a wall mid-argument. Not in a poetic way. Not in a “Wow, time is so beautiful, let’s admire it” kind of way.

Nah.

This was that kind of slow motion—the type where every single detail screamed danger, but my brain? Calm as hell. Like I was watching a movie frame by frame, except I was inside the damn thing.

I saw everything.

The metal pole tilted midair, the thick screws twisting loose and floating like they had all the time in the world. Each one spun slowly, spiraling through space with a lazy wobble, their silver surfaces catching the light in bright, blinking flashes.

Emma’s hair lifted—every single strand.

Not all at once, but in layers. First, the wisps around her face rose, curling and separating as if testing the air. Then, the longer locks followed, arching upward in a delayed wave, floating, twisting, spinning. It was like gravity suddenly got distracted and forgot how to do its job.

I could count them if I wanted to.

I didn’t.

Beyond her, a dude’s mouth was frozen in a perfect “O” shape, his face the physical embodiment of “bro, no way.” His lips were slightly wet, his tongue just barely starting to retract from where he’d gasped. His phone? Not even fully tilted yet. Just a fraction of a movement, stuck in the process of being lifted like his brain was just now realizing he should be recording.

A girl in the back was mid-gasp.

But it wasn’t a normal gasp. No quick inhale. No sharp sound.

It was drawn out, stretched thin, a broken horror-movie inhale, the kind where you could hear each muscle in the throat straining to pull in air.

Hhhhhh—

She was buffering.

Me? I moved.

Not a rush. Not a panic. Just smooth, controlled motion, like I had all the time in the world. It didn’t feel fast—it felt effortless, like slipping through the cracks of reality while everything else crawled in slow motion. I sucked in a breath, muscles coiling, and pushed off the ground.

The impact barely registered to me, but the floor told a different story. A spiderweb of cracks splintered out beneath my foot, a small but undeniable mark left behind—one I casually covered with my shoe as I settled back into place, looking completely unbothered.

A tiny fracture spidered outward beneath my shoe. Thin, hairline splits that nobody would notice—nobody but me. But I felt it. The gym floor had resisted for a split second before giving in under the force of my step.

The world around me stayed sluggish.

I didn’t.

My body sliced through the air, silent, smooth, fast. Hair barely shifting, just a soft wave that lifted and settled right back like nothing had disturbed it.

Left hand—already reaching before I’d even fully decided to, muscle memory moving faster than thought.

My fingers curled around Emma’s hoodie in a firm grip, the fabric stretching slightly under my hold. Sharp yank—precise, controlled, just enough to tilt her off-course without making it obvious. Gotta keep it cute. Her eyes widened, pure confusion flickering across her face, still trapped in normal speed.

Her expression had barely begun to shift, like her brain was still buffering, lagging behind reality. Her hand hadn’t even twitched yet.

Right hand—already in motion. My palm slammed against the falling pole with effortless force. Metal buckled on impact, not just denting, but rippling like it had been bitch-slapped by a god. The entire tester twisted midair, its trajectory snapping sideways at an impossible angle instead of crashing straight down.

Loose tabs broke free, spinning wildly, tumbling end over end like they, too, had second thoughts about being here.

Then—BOOM.

Time SNAPPED BACK like a rubber band stretched too far, slamming reality back into place. The deafening clang of metal hitting the ground punched through the gym, shaking the air like a thunderclap.

The metal clanged against the ground so damn loud it sucked the sound out of the room for half a second. The impact sent a shockwave through the gym floor, the vibrations bouncing up through my shoes.

And me? Already gone.

By the time Emma realized she had just dodged a whole-ass Final Destination moment, I was already back by the bleachers.

Hands in my pockets.

Casual.

Like I hadn’t just pulled a full Flash-level miracle.

My foot? Casually covering the cracks I’d left in the court floor.

Emma, still half in a squat, blinked.

Looked around.

“Uh… what the fuck just happened?”

Nobody had the answer.

Because nobody had seen shit.

One second, Emma was about to get a full metal concussion—brain cells obliterated, life flashing before her eyes, obituary already half-written. And the next?

She was just… safe.

Like some invisible force had yeeted her straight out of danger.

The whole gym fell into a confused, lowkey terrified silence.

And then—

“Yo,” some dude in the back blurted out, breaking the tension. “That shit was wild.”

“The pole was aiming for her ass, bro, how did she survive?” someone else muttered.

“Did anyone see—?”

Nope. No one saw anything. Because in their eyes, this was just some paranormal Jesus-type miracle.

Meanwhile, me?

I slid into the growing crowd like I hadn’t just been the actual superhero in the room.

Kept my expression wide-eyed, perfectly staged. Even let my mouth hang open a little for effect. A light touch of shock, seasoned with just the right amount of “Oh wow, I’m totally as confused as you guys.”

Acting.

Oscar-worthy, honestly.

“Damn,” I said, throwing in a little dramatic head shake. “That was crazy.” Emma sat her ass down on the gym floor, blinking at her own hands like they held the secrets of the universe.

“I— I don’t even… Did someone—?” She scanned the gym, desperate for answers. But all she got was a bunch of blank stares.

“Maybe your guardian angel said ‘not today, bitch,'” one of the girls suggested.

“Or a fucking ghost.”

…Okay. Sure.

We were going that route.

Not mad at it. The less logical, the better. I nodded along, hands still in my pockets like I wasn’t just the fastest bitch alive five seconds ago.

Emma, still on the floor, dragged a hand down her face. “Bruh. I need a second.” I patted her shoulder, my performance still in full effect.

“Yeah, take your time, dude,” I said, casual as hell. “That was some Final Destination-type shit.” And with that, the gym moved on. People filtered back to their own business, the whole near-death experience downgraded to “huh, that was weird” status.

Except for Emma.

She kept looking around, like she half-expected the universe to drop another metal pole just to finish the job.