“I need to plan.” Nate frowned. Hadn’t he been doing that for twelve years?
Planning. Always planning. Every scenario, every move. He didn’t need to start from scratch—he just needed to adjust. Fit his plan to the Damage Control System.
Right. He headed straight to his room.
Closet. Old bag.
Nate unzipped it, fingers brushing worn fabric. Rough. Familiar. The diary.
He tucked the bag back in and settled onto the bed.
The diary—no, the Planbook—lay in front of him.
2175. Scrawled in bold, across a burned and patched-up cover. His dad’s diary, once. Now his.
Nate ran a thumb over the faded ink. The last time his father used it, everything went up in flames.
Now? Nate used it to bring it all down.
His eyes flicked over the pages.
Heroes. Villains. Association. Monolith. Pictures. Powers. Weaknesses.
He skipped it all. Even his Revenge Plan.
None of that mattered right now.
He flipped to a blank page. Pen scratched: Damage Control System & its Usage.
First: Get Stronger. Without strength, no plan.
Use Damage Control System to get…
He didn’t finish. A sudden problem.
The Association and Monolith. They were after him. Wanted him out in the open.
Maybe they’d let the city burn. Let villains tear through the streets. All bait. For him.
Heroes would just stand by. Watching. Waiting.
And the moment he showed up—maybe right after Damage Control? They’d both pounce.
With backlash active, he’d be defenseless.
Not that it mattered. He was never strong enough to win anyway.
His stats were nothing.
And [Time Stop] would just undo any damage he dealt.
Shit! Damage Control wouldn’t make him stronger. Not like this.
Come on. There had to be another way. Some skill. Something that let him slip away unnoticed after restoration.
Yeah. Vega said he had everything he needed for successful Damage Control.
And that meant staying alive. If he got caught, he couldn’t keep Damage Controlling. Simple logic.
It had to be there. Somewhere in his arsenal.
“Control Center.” The screen flickered to life.
---- Control Center ----
User: Nathan Morgan
Level: 2 / Rank - F
Profession: Damage Controller
– Resources –
Health: 146 / 170 (2/min)
Stamina: 217 / 260 (4/min)
Mana: 58 / 140 (0.25/min)
– Stats –
Appeal: 14
Endurance: 26
Vigor: 17
Strength: 24
Dexterity: 14
Intelligence: 19
Perception: 19
Mana: 14
– Skills –
Hivemind - 2
Time Stop - 2
Stabilization Sequencer - 2
Magnetic Shift - 2
Death Step - 2
Structural Awareness - 2
Structural Repair - 1
----
“Okay.” Nate scanned the screen. Top to bottom.
Level up. Good.
Resources up. Expected. But recovery took time. Explained the lingering fatigue.
Stats? Rookie numbers. Some S-rank Hero or Villain had stats in the thousands. He had a long way to go.
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Skills. This was where it had to be. His life-saving skill.
Most skills made sense. He had just used them. Knew what they could do.
Still, he wrote them down—one by one. Better to see the full picture.
Hivemind: Connects to human physique to locate damage.
Magnetic Shift: Allows manipulation of anything metal.
Structural Awareness… and so on.
Then he stopped.
Two skills stood out.
[Death Step] and [Structural Repair].
The latter? Probably another utility skill. Useful, sure. But not for a fight. Not for escape.
The former, though—[Death Step]. What did it do?
He thought for a moment.
Even focused on the screen, hoping a pop-up would explain it.
Nothing.
So… it didn’t sound like a Utility Skill. But it didn’t have the punch for an Offensive Skill, either.
It had death in the name, but… step?
What was that supposed to mean?
Nope. No clue.
“You could always ask me, you know?” Vega chimed in.
Nate exhaled. Yeah, he knew that.
But he’d spent most of his life being self-sufficient. Figuring things out on his own.
He always preferred it that way.
Right now, though?
“Fine. Tell me—what does [Death Step] do?” Nate asked.
“Sure. It’s a skill…” A pause. “You know what? Let me show you.”
Even better.
“Show me.”
“Not like this,” Vega said. “It involves sleeping. Can you do that?”
Her tone was serious.
But the words? Not so much.
He blinked. “How does sleeping help me learn a skill?”
“Trust me, Nathan. When you wake up, you’ll know. Among many other things.”
She sounded confident. Certain.
Nate hesitated. Now that he was thinking clearly, that nagging feeling crept back in—whispering not to trust her.
But so far?
Everything she’d said had worked.
She was on his side.
No harm in trying.
“How does it work though? Magic?”
“Not magic. There is no such thing. But it works.”
She didn’t elaborate.
And Nate wasn’t about to waste all night arguing.
So—
He shut the lights. Set the AC. Laid the planbook on the desk. Then slid under the blanket.
Warmth wrapped around him. Comfortable. Safe—for now.
He closed his eyes.
His body sank into the mattress. His mind let go. Pushed the planning to tomorrow.
One minute. Two…
Sleep crept closer. Finally within reach.
Maybe knowing the city would stay quiet tonight helped. Or maybe exhaustion had finally won.
Didn’t matter.
Sleep took him before he even knew it.
.
.
.
Snap!
Fingers against each other.
Nate’s eyes flew open.
Blinding white light seared into them. He winced, blinking hard. His vision adjusted—slowly.
A ceiling. White. Too white. Definitely not his.
He rubbed his eyes. Still there.
“What?”
He sat up. Looked around. Blinked again. Rubbed harder.
White. Everywhere.
The ceiling. The ground. Walls…? No walls. Just an endless stretch of empty, colorless space.
A void—but too bright.
“Where the hell am I?”
Nate hesitated, then touched the floor. Solid. Felt real enough.
He pushed himself up, turned—
The bed was gone.
He flinched, heart kicking up a notch.
“What the fuck?!”
His gaze darted around. Nothing. No one but him.
He swallowed.
Where the hell had he been dropped?
Did the Association get him? Monolith?
How?
And this space—what? Some kind of mass torture cell?
Fuck!
His breath hitched. Knees buckling.
But then—
“Welcome to Sandbox, Nathan.”
Vega’s voice rang from all around.
“A pocket inside your consciousness. A place to train, test, and learn your skills. Without affecting the real world.”
Nate blinked. Looked.
Vast. Empty.
No one but him.
“Oh.” A breath. Realization. Tension eased.
Of course. It made sense.
He’d been freaking out over something that was actually useful.
“God damn it!” He cursed, throwing his hands in the air.
“You could’ve told me.”
Vega’s voice sharpened, amused. “For a guy claiming to be self-sufficient, you sure expect help a lot.”
The sarcasm landed. Nate grimaced.
She was… right.
If only he’d connected the dots instead of letting instinct take over.
A void. He got here by sleeping. Because Vega told him to. Because she brought him here.
Yet another thing she could pull off without my say-so. Great.
But that didn’t excuse her dumping him into a place he knew nothing about.
The least she could’ve done? Warn him.
But then—
Wasn’t he supposed to be self-sufficient? Prepared for anything?
Sigh!
Nate let out a breath, rubbing his neck.
“Yeah. I get it.”
A pause. Then, muttered—“Still would’ve been nice to get a heads-up.”
“So, [Death Step]—what is it?” Nate asked.
“A skill, obviously,” Vega answered, amusement lacing her tone.
Then she shifted. Serious.
“When activated, it completely eliminates your Mana Signature for a maximum of two minutes. So you can either find a place to hide or make a run for it—out of the Watchers’ sight.”
Nate gasped in realization, then dragged a hand down his face.
Mana Signature… Of course. How had he forgotten that?
What separated a common human from a superhuman? Mana. The energy the Framework introduced, the very thing that powered every skill in every System—including his.
Heroes and Villains could sense mana, picking out one of their own in a crowd.
The Association and Monolith had scanners for their officials.
But if his mana was suppressed?
None of them would catch him. None of them would even know he was there.
Like how they couldn’t sense a dead man. How they ignored the dead.
Exactly the skill he needed.
A grin tugged at Nate’s lips. He pumped his fists. “Hell yeah!”
“Why don’t you give it a try?” Vega prompted.
“Sure.” He was more than ready.
Focusing on [Death Step], he treated it like [Magnetic Shift]—centered his attention, willed it to activate.
Nothing.
He tried again. Same result.
His brow twitched. “What the hell?”
“Oh, right.” Vega’s tone was far too casual. “I forgot to mention—it only activates after [Time Stop] ends.”
Nate froze. Blinked.
Then his eyes snapped wide. “You gotta be kidding me.”
He was supposed to find cover—somewhere neither Heroes nor Villains could see through. Or make a run for it.
All while backlash was in full swing.
While his body felt like it was ripping itself apart.
While he could barely breathe.
And he had what? Two minutes. Two damn minutes to pull it off.
The excitement crashed as fast as it came.
Nate exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Yeah. Nah. That won’t do.”
“You know,” Vega murmured, voice edged with dry humor. “You could always meditate for a few days. Fine-tune your mana absorption. That way, you’d manipulate your mana—and by extension, your mana signature—on your own.”
A pause. Then, smug—
“No need for [Death Step]. And, of course, you’d have all the time you need.”
Nate clenched his jaw. Opened his mouth to argue—
“Or,” she cut in, “you could work with what you have.”
Her voice sharpened. “Do careful Damage Control. Level up. Your skills will follow.”
A beat. Then, matter-of-fact—
“And once they do? You’ll have all the time you need to escape.”
She… was right, again. Nate let out a slow breath. No use fighting it.
He couldn’t afford to waste days meditating while innocents died for his sake. He had to work with what he had.
“Yeah.” He nodded, more to himself than her. “Let’s do Careful Damage Control.”
“Give it a try,” Vega said.
And the world shifted.
A low rumble spread through the endless white void. Then another. Deep. Thundering. The ground trembled beneath Nate’s feet, and suddenly—
Boom!
A shockwave ripped through the space. The sky darkened, the empty air twisting into roaring winds.
Then—thump.
A force slammed into the ground like a falling titan. Nate staggered, his pulse spiking. “What the…”
Cracks splintered out from beneath him, the white void shattering like fragile glass. Something was pushing through.
With a deafening crunch, buildings erupted from the cracks, shooting up like jagged teeth. Skyscrapers. Shops. Billboards flashing advertisements in languages he didn’t recognize.
He jumped back, barely dodging a burst of flying debris. “Shit!”
The roads paved themselves beneath his feet as he landed. Cars. Trucks. Buses. All appearing mid-motion, tires screeching. Horns blaring. Pedestrians shouted, pointing toward the sky in terror.
A city had formed around him. And it was alive.
Roar!
The sound tore through the streets like an earthquake. Deep. Raw. Gut-wrenching.
Nate froze. Heart pounding, he slowly turned.
A shadow loomed.
Massive. Towering over the skyline.
Something colossal shifted behind the high-rises, blotting out what little light remained. A shape took form.
Broad, plated shoulders. Scales like jagged black steel. A ridged spine that crackled with flickers of blue energy. Clawed hands gripped the tops of buildings, crushing concrete like wet sand.
Then—the head rose.
Golden eyes. Slitted pupils. Rows of glistening, serrated teeth.
It was looking right at him.
“What. The. Fuck!”
Another roar, even louder than before. Windows shattered. The streets quaked.
And then—
It lunged.