《Damage Control Guy [LitRPG, Progression, Hero & Villain, Revenge]》 Prologue - When, How, & What Now! Twelve years ago, Nathan Morgan''s life went up in flames. It was supposed to be a good day. His birthday. But Pyrebreaker decided to rob a bank, and Apex, the city¡¯s golden boy, stepped in. They fought in the sky, trading punches like gods. Downtown burned. By the time it was over, half the district was gone. Nathan¡¯s parents and sister? Gone with it. Pyrebreaker vanished. Apex got a parade. Revenge burned bright. Still did. But Nathan knew better. Heroes and villains weren¡¯t just people. They were storms. Forces of nature. No amount of training or rage would stop someone who could disintegrate him with a sneeze. So he did what the powerless do. He cleaned up after them. * * * Nate knelt in the rubble of a shopping district. Sweat streaked through the grime on his face. His gloves were shredded, his back shot to hell. He hauled another chunk of concrete aside and swore. The city called it ¡°damage control.¡± He called it ¡°standing in the splash zone.¡± Every time heroes and villains decided to brawl, Nate and his crew showed up to pick up the pieces. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The job sucked. Low pay. High risk. But he didn¡¯t have many options. Most days, it was crawling through unstable wreckage, hoping to find survivors. Or bodies. On the side, he taught martial arts. A way to stay sharp. To scrape together a few bucks. But really? It was training. For the day he got his shot. * * * A sound cut through the air. Muffled, faint. Someone shouting. Nate paused. Tilted his head. A survivor. The noise came from deeper in the rubble. A jagged tunnel yawned open, concrete slabs balanced on splintered rebar. Black shadows stretched into the guts of the collapse. He hesitated. Didn¡¯t look safe. Hell, it didn¡¯t look survivable. The cries got louder. He clenched his teeth and swore. ¡°Of course. Always the weak ones who pay for this crap.¡± He crawled in. Moved slow, careful not to shift the balance of the wreckage. Shadows closed around him. He muttered as he went. ¡°Villains start it. Heroes make it worse. And who to clean? Me. Just a guy with a shovel. Just once, I¡¯d like to see one of them down here. Digging with their bare hands.¡± The tunnel opened into a pocket of space. Small. Cramped. His eyes locked on something immediately: a hand sticking out from under a boulder. ¡°Hang on!¡± he called. He scrambled over. Dug his boots in. Gripped the edge of the boulder. Pulled. His muscles screamed, but the stone shifted. The hand came free. It wasn¡¯t attached to anything. Nate froze. The hand twitched. Then it melted, black and liquid, and lunged for his face. He stumbled back. Tried to dodge. His boot caught on a chunk of concrete. The ground tilted. His head slammed into something hard. * * * Darkness. Suitable host found. Neural link established. Initiating Damage Control System. 1 - Hell of a Day Nate¡¯s eyes snapped open. The voice was still there. Cold. Mechanical. ¡°Damage Control System,¡± it said. Nate blinked, his head pounding. He pushed off the ground and sat up, groaning. ¡°What the hell¡ª¡± Ding! A screen popped up in front of him, hanging midair like a hologram. Damage Assessment Complete. Damage Score: 41 Damage Level: Severe Immediate stabilization required. Rewards: +Level, +All Stats, +Strength, +Endurance, +Vigor, New Skill Unlock Nate flinched. He swiped at the screen, but his hand went right through it. ¡°What is this?¡± Before he could process, the ground beneath him rumbled. The walls groaned, concrete straining under the weight above. Dust rained down in choking clouds. Then came the crash¡ªstone and steel tearing loose, the ceiling collapsing in slow, inevitable agony. ¡°No, no!¡± Nate scrambled to his feet. Too slow. The rubble was coming down fast, an avalanche of destruction. Ding! The screen flashed again, brighter this time. Default Skill Set Unlocked. [Time Stop] Available. Snap your fingers, quick! He didn¡¯t think. Instinct took over. Nate snapped his fingers. The world froze. Debris hung mid-fall, suspended in the air. Dust stopped in its tracks, each particle frozen in place. The groan of the wreckage silenced, leaving a ringing void in his ears. Nate¡¯s breath caught in his throat. He turned, staring wide-eyed at the chaos locked in time. ¡°What the¡­¡± His voice broke the stillness. He reached out to touch a piece of falling rubble. It floated away, ignoring gravity¡¯s pull. He yanked his hand back, heart racing. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± he muttered, trying to steady himself. ¡°Not freaking out. Definitely not losing it.¡± Ding! The screen popped back up. Time Stop Duration Remaining: 30 Seconds. All Base Stats Boosted by 500%. Stabilize The Structure to Survive. Optimal Stabilization Sequence Loaded. Proceed with Caution! Thump! Nate¡¯s heart thudded hard against his ribs. Then came the rush. Electricity buzzed in his veins, hot and alive. It spread fast, lighting up every nerve. His muscles tensed, his senses sharpened. Even the pounding ache in his head vanished. His breathing steadied, his vision cleared. He felt¡­ Stronger. Faster. Better. One glance at the wreckage, and he knew exactly what to do. . . . Nate moved like a man possessed. His eyes locked on the debris. Everything frozen mid-fall, the whole scene teetering on the edge. It all clicked¡ªangles, weights, stress points. It was instinct, but sharper, cleaner, like the world itself was handing him the answers. He dashed to the first weak point: a jagged steel beam leaning against a cracked pillar. Without hesitating, he grabbed the beam. It should¡¯ve been impossible to lift, but his body responded effortlessly. Muscles surged with strength, and he slammed the beam upright, locking it into a stable position. Ding! The screen flashed: Stabilization Point Secured. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Nate didn¡¯t wait. He was already on the move, crossing the space in a blink. A slab of concrete hung precariously, ready to tip. He threw his weight against it, driving it into a safer position. His feet dug into the ground, anchoring himself. The rubble groaned but settled. Another chime. Stabilization Point Secured. The clock ticked down in the corner of his vision. Time Stop Duration Remaining: 20 Seconds. He was moving faster now. Target after target. A section of the ceiling sagged, rebar bending under the weight. Nate spotted a steel rod on the ground, hefted it, and hurled it into place like a makeshift support. The ceiling shifted, but held. 10 Seconds Remaining. Sweat poured down his face, but he didn¡¯t stop. A broken wall leaned at a dangerous angle. He kicked a chunk of debris into place, wedging it tight to act as a brace. The air hummed, thick with tension. It wasn¡¯t just a feeling anymore. He could sense it¡ªevery shift in the balance, every creak of the collapsing structure. One wrong move and it would all come down. 05 Seconds Remaining. He spotted one last problem: a crumbling column. If it went, everything did. Nate sprinted to it, grabbing a steel bar and shoving it into the gap, reinforcing the column just as time resumed. The clock blinked. [Time Stop] Deactivated. The world came alive in an instant. The groans of the wreckage came back, louder now, but this time¡ªthis time¡ªit held. Nate hit his knees. The energy bled out of him, fast as it came. His chest burned, every breath a fight. His heart pounded like a fist inside his ribs. His head? Worse. Pain slammed him in waves, blinding and sharp. He coughed, hard. Blood sprayed across the rubble. ¡°Damn it¡­¡± His voice was raw, barely there. His arms gave out. He collapsed face-first into the dust. Blood pooled beneath him, warm and sticky. Ding! The screen flickered back to life. Structure Stabilized. Survival Secured. Now Restoring Damage. Rewards Unlocked: +1 Level Up +1 All Stats +3 Strength +5 Endurance +2 Vigor New Skill: Structural Awareness Nate blinked at it, his vision swimming. The edges of the world blurred, darkness creeping in. His lips twitched. A faint, almost delirious smile. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening,¡± he muttered, words slurring. ¡°But¡­ It¡¯s awesome.¡± The screen dimmed. His world went black. * * * Nate coughed. Golden light stabbed at his eyes. He squinted, groaning softly. He pushed himself off the ground. Expecting pain, a grunt. But neither came. Nate froze, halfway up, confused. Sat up first. Then stood. Smooth. Effortless. Wait. He stretched his arms. No wince, no struggle. His body moved easily, like it hadn¡¯t just been slammed against a ton of concrete, or hurled blocks of rock like pebbles. This is wrong. His uniform told a different story. Yellow, streaked with dirt and dry blood. His blood. He looked around, dazed. Still at the site. Workers milled about. Someone waved from near the ambulance. ¡°You alright, Morgan?¡± Nate nodded without thinking. ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯m good.¡± His voice sounded strange to him. Flat. Distant. The guy approached. Nate recognized him. ¡°What the hell happened, man? You were just lying there, out of it?¡± Gabe asked. ¡°I had to carry you all the way here.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Nate hesitated. He wanted to tell Gabe everything. The tunnel. The hand that wasn¡¯t a hand. The black goo. The system. The power¡­ God, it sounded stupid¡ªlike something out of bad fiction. Gabe wouldn¡¯t believe it. Hell, Nate himself couldn¡¯t. How else could he explain feeling fine? Better than fine. His head didn¡¯t hurt. His chest didn¡¯t ache. His hands didn¡¯t shake. He flexed his fingers, testing them. No stiffness. No strain. ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Nate muttered, too quick. ¡°Just... my asthma acting up, I guess.¡± Gabe raised an eyebrow, skeptical. Then his expression shifted. ¡°That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t find your mask!¡± He rolled his eyes, groaning. ¡°How many times do I gotta tell you, Nate? Wear a Goddamn mask. Always. It protects your face, your lungs. But you never listen.¡± Nate forced a grin. ¡°Next time, definitely.¡± ¡°You sure?¡± Gabe¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°Hundred percent. I always listen to you, don¡¯t I?¡± Nate clapped Gabe on the shoulder and started walking. Quick steps, headed toward the tunnel. ¡°Oi, where are ya going?¡± Gabe called after him, loud enough to draw a few glances. ¡°Finish my shift,¡± Nate answered without turning back. ¡°It¡¯s over.¡± Nate checked his watch. 05:15. Still 45 minutes to go. ¡°No, it isn¡¯t.¡± He could still check out the place, and not let them shave an hour of his wage. Gabe jogged after him, grabbing his shoulder. ¡°Stop! Our work here is done. Tunnel¡¯s not that damaged.¡± ¡°What?¡± Nate turned, confused. ¡°You heard me,¡± Gabe said, motioning back toward the site. ¡°Inspection team gave it the all-clear while you were out. That collapse wasn¡¯t as bad as we thought. Most of the structure¡¯s stable.¡± Nate blinked, thrown. ¡°That can¡¯t be right. The place was coming down.¡± ¡°Looks bad, sure, but you know how it is.¡± Gabe shrugged. ¡°Scans didn¡¯t pick up much. Small damage, easy fixes. Hell, no one even knows why you ran back in there.¡± Nate¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°It was worse than that.¡± ¡°Maybe to you,¡± Gabe said, studying him. ¡°But the scanners say otherwise. Weird, huh?¡± Weird didn¡¯t even begin to cover it. Nate glanced at the tunnel. The spot where it should¡¯ve all fallen apart. Instead, it stood solid. Like nothing had ever happened. His pulse quickened. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, voice low. ¡°Weird.¡± ¡°Come on,¡± Gabe said, steering him around. ¡°Let¡¯s go. You gotta see a doctor, no?¡± Nate¡¯s mind was elsewhere. Something wasn¡¯t right. Seriously not. It wasn¡¯t just the pain that wasn¡¯t there. It was the whole damn situation. His stomach twisted with that nagging feeling. He glanced over his shoulder. ¡°You know what, let me just take a look.¡± Before Gabe could respond, Nate yanked his arm free and bolted. ¡°Hey!¡± Gabe¡¯s voice rang out behind him. ¡°Nate! What the hell, man?¡± Nate didn¡¯t stop. Couldn¡¯t. The thought burned in his head: No. The tunnel has to be damaged. It has to be. I saw it. Heard it. Felt it! He stumbled over a loose rock, arms pinwheeling. Crashed into a pair of workers, muttering rushed apologies. A rack of shovels caught him next¡ªclattering to the ground as he scraped past, ignoring the startled shouts. Finally, he rounded the corner. And froze. The tunnel. It was intact. The ceiling stood solid. Lights buzzed faintly overhead. Pipes along the walls gleamed under a layer of dust. The columns were upright, sturdy, unbent. Nate stopped dead in his tracks, breathing hard. He stumbled forward, his legs weak. His knees gave out, and he dropped to the ground, hands pressed into the cold floor. He ran a shaky hand down his face. Stared at the tunnel. It looked as if¡­ the hero had never crushed it. ¡°What the hell did I do?¡± he whispered. 2 - System & Vega Nate¡¯s head was a wreck. Nothing made sense. He¡¯d seen the tunnel collapse. He¡¯d been there. Tried to escape. Couldn¡¯t. Then something¡ªa Control System, was it? His memory was foggy there. It showed up. Did something. Made him stop the tunnel from collapsing. Saved him. And then he blacked out. When he woke up? Nothing. Tunnel was fine. Scanners said so. Engineers backed it up. Workers shrugged. No damage. No collapse. Great. So now he was the idiot who panicked over nothing and threw himself at walls for fun. What about the time freeze? The power rush? That energy that felt like lightning in his veins? Nope. Didn¡¯t happen, apparently. Well, then what the hell did I feel? Nate wanted to scream. Just stand up in this bus and let it rip. But people would stare. Maybe film him. Definitely kick him out. Walking home wasn¡¯t on the to-do-list tonight. He sighed instead. Long. Loud enough for the lady next to him to glance over. ¡°This isn¡¯t working,¡± he muttered, rubbing his temples. His voice carried just enough self-pity to be annoying, even to himself. Still better than screaming. Nate leaned back. Stared out the window. Darkness outside. His own blank eyes stared back. ¡°I need a new perspective,¡± he said to himself. He shut his eyes. Traced his steps. Back to the beginning. The cry. He¡¯d heard it and ran. Someone needed help. He reached out, grabbed a hand¡ªexcept it wasn¡¯t a hand. It turned into black goo. What the hell was that? The goo jumped at him. His leg slipped. He hit the ground. Hard. Did he black out there? Maybe. Probably. Where did the goo go? No idea. But when he opened his eyes, there it was¡ªthe Control System? A glowing screen in front of him. It gave him the powers to stabilize the collapse¡ª Wait. Hold on. System. That¡¯s what it was called. An actual system? A real system? Did he have one now? Holy shit. Nate¡¯s eyes snapped open. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± It explained everything. The powers. The repaired tunnel. The impossible stuff. That¡¯s what systems did, right? They made the impossible... possible. But then again, systems usually showed up when you were a kid. Between five and ten, tops. Nobody got one at twenty-six. Nobody. Nate leaned forward, hands on his knees. ¡°Come on, this can¡¯t be real.¡± What would his system even be called? Not a hero system. Not a villain system. A Control System? Seriously? Did something like that even exist? Doubt crept in. But how else do you explain all this? Nate sighed, then shrugged. Fine. No harm trying. He cleared his throat. ¡°Uh, hello? System? If you¡¯re there, now¡¯s a great time to show up buddy.¡± Silence. ¡°System?¡± Still nothing. Except for the side-eye from the lady next to him. Nate gave her a sheepish grin and scratched his head. ¡°Figures. Stupid wiki page¡ª¡± A translucent screen flickered to life in front of him. Nate flinched, mouth hanging open as words scrolled across the screen: ¡®Hello System¡¯ is not recognized as an internal or external command. ¡®System¡¯ is not recognized as an internal or external command. Perhaps, you are looking for Control Center? Nate swallowed hard. His chest tightened. ¡°Uh... Control Center?¡± The screen expanded. Welcome to Damage Control System! ---- Control Center ---- User: Nathan Morgan Level: 1 / Rank - F Profession: Damage Controller ¨C Resources ¨C Health: 138 / 170 (2/min) Stamina: 167 / 200 (4/min) Mana: 83 / 100 (0.25/min) ¨C Stats ¨C Appeal: 14 Endurance: 20 You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Vigor: 17 Strength: 16 Dexterity: 14 Intelligence: 19 Perception: 12 Mana: 10 ¨C Skills ¨C Hivemind - 1 Time Stop - 1 Stabilization Sequencer - 1 Magnetic Shift - 1 Death Step - 1 Structural Awareness - 1 ---- Nate blinked. Once. Twice. A third time for good measure. He even rubbed his eyes. Nope. Not hallucinating. The screen floated there. Waiting. He turned to the woman beside him. Patting her shoulder, he said, ¡°Ma¡¯am, ma¡¯am¡ªcan you see that?¡± He jabbed a finger at the screen. ¡°See what?¡± She frowned. ¡°Air?¡± ¡°The screen!¡± ¡°Screen? What screen?¡± She shoved his hand away. ¡°Stop touching me!¡± ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m sorry,¡± Nate said, pulling back. But he couldn¡¯t stop grinning. Trademark of systems: only the user could see it. Only he could see it. Shit. Shit. I¡¯ve got a system! His grin widened. His chest heaved with excitement, unable to contain. The woman stared at him like he¡¯d lost his mind. ¡°Hey!¡± she shouted. ¡°Shit!¡± Nate shouted back. He shot out of his seat, arms flailing, and shoved his way down the packed aisle. ¡°Move! MOVE!¡± Passengers stared, some shouting back, others panicking as he banged on the bus doors. The driver hit the brakes. Hard. The bus lurched, tires screeching as it skidded to a stop. The doors hissed open. Nate stumbled out, barely catching himself before he hit the sidewalk. He dropped to his knees, gasping. People around him stared. Muttered. Kept their distance. His chest heaved, his pulse pounded in his ears. He looked up at the empty air, eyes wild, and screamed. ¡°I have a SYSTEM! A bloody SYSTEM!¡± And then he laughed. Loud, manic, borderline unhinged. The crowd gave him even more space. Someone shook him. Nathan didn¡¯t care. He laughed, hands reaching toward the sky. They shook him harder. ¡°Nate!¡± Didn¡¯t register. His mind was somewhere else¡ªhis family. His parents, his sister. Finally, justice. Finally, peace. ¡°Nathan!¡± Louder this time. Grating, like nails on a chalkboard. Just as he started to turn¡ªslap! His cheek burned. His head hit the pavement. Pain shot through his skull, snapping him back to reality. Nathan blinked. Gabe stood over him, face full of worry. Around them, a dozen passersby gawked. The bus passengers, too, spilling onto the sidewalk. Some glared. Others filmed. A few were on their phones, maybe calling the cops, or worse, the association. Nathan groaned. Shook his head. Clarity returned. He forced a grin, wide and stupid. It didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Totally fine. Just a little... panic attack.¡± He waved his arms like that explained everything. ¡°Nothing to see here, folks.¡± The crowd didn¡¯t buy it. But they scattered anyway. Slowly. ¡°You¡¯re definitely not fine,¡± Gabe muttered. He grabbed Nathan¡¯s shoulder, grounding him. ¡°I told you to see a doctor. You didn¡¯t go. And now look at you. What were you even yelling about¡­¡± Nathan barely heard him. His eyes darted to the bus and back to Gabe. ¡°How¡¯d you even¡ª¡± He spotted it. Gabe¡¯s bike, parked right in front of the bus. Of course. Probably on his way to his other job. Such a hard working guy. Nathan exhaled sharply. ¡°Right. Okay. Thanks for the, uh, slap.¡± Gabe frowned. ¡°Nate¡ª¡± Nathan cut him off with a wave. ¡°No time, buddy. I¡¯ve got... things. Big things.¡± ¡°Big things? Like screaming on the sidewalk?¡± Nathan grinned, already stepping away, running. ¡°Exactly. Stay tuned.¡± Gabe watched him go, looking like he wanted to throw another slap his way. * * * By the time Nate reached his apartment complex, the buzz was fading. He hit the stairs, and it was gone. At his door, he punched in the code. Turned the key. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open. Cold air hit his face like a slap. The balcony was wide open. Reality crashed down. Nate stepped inside. Let the door shut behind him with a groan. The bag slid off his shoulder and hit the corner with a thud. He didn¡¯t even bother with the lights. Just slumped to the floor, back against the sofa. The room was still. No curtains. No warmth. Just cold air drifting in from the balcony and the faint glow of the city below. He stared at the sky. Cloudy. The moon barely pushed through, dim and distant. Watching. It was the same kind of night. Twelve years ago. That night. He could see it like it was yesterday. The table. The chocolate cake Mom had baked, perfect and lopsided. Dad fiddling with the old camera, cursing under his breath about angles. Eli¡ªgrinning ear to ear, darting around the room like a little tornado, showing off for Triss. His girlfriend back then. And Triss¡ªsitting there, smiling, egging Eli on as she went on about the tooth fairy and her missing teeth. She¡¯d been a pain in the ass, pestering her until Mom snapped. Then the tears. Dad swooping in to calm her down. That had been their routine. And then they¡¯d all gathered around the table. Nate had felt like a complete idiot. Fourteen years old, and they still treated him like a kid. In front of Triss, no less. And she¡¯d loved every second of it. Now the memory made him smile. The candles flickered. They¡¯d all said, Happy Birthday! And then¡ª BOOM. A flash. A roar. And everything was gone. His family. His home. His world. Burned to ash. The memory sent a chill down his spine. That night, he swore they¡¯d pay. Every last one of them. Take everything, just like they¡¯d taken from him. Every night since, he¡¯d planned. Obsessed. Ran every scenario through his head, over and over. But no plan ever worked. They were untouchable. Untouchable. Until now. Nate leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the sliver of moonlight cutting through the clouds. A system. The thing that turned nobodies into heroes. Or villains. Something so rare, so impossible, it might as well have been a myth for him. And now, it was his. Nate chuckled. Ran a hand through his hair. Exhaled slow, steady. ¡°Control Center,¡± he said. The system window blinked into existence, blue against the dark. He scanned it, top to bottom. Most of it clicked¡ªyears of geeking out over systems had sharpened his instincts. But there were gaps. Big ones. Damage Control System? His title as a Damage Controller? No class. No blessing. It didn¡¯t add up. This system was... different. Really different. Not that he minded. But it got him thinking. How did I even get this thing? His first thought: the black goo. That weird, pulsing sludge. What exactly was it? ¡°It was me,¡± a voice answered. Calm. Crisp. Out of nowhere. ¡°I chose you, Nathan.¡± Nate froze. His pulse spiked. That voice. He knew it. He¡¯d heard it before. ¡°System?¡± he asked, eyes darting around. ¡°My apologies,¡± the voice said, smooth, eerily polite, with a faint feminine tone. ¡°I haven¡¯t introduced myself.¡± A pause, deliberate. Precise. ¡°I¡¯m Vega. Your Damage Control Assistant.¡± Nate stayed still, heart thundering. ¡°My role,¡± she continued, ¡°is to guide you toward our shared objective and provide support when needed¡ªlike I did during your escape in the tunnel. You adapted remarkably fast, Nathan. Most don¡¯t. Be proud of that. Don¡¯t beat yourself over it.¡± The tunnel. The collapse. So it had gone down. And he¡¯d fixed it? ¡°I was losing my mind over nothing,¡± he muttered, letting out a breath. A faint smile crept onto his lips¡ªuntil it hit him. How did Vega know he¡¯d been beating himself up about it? ¡°Of course I know,¡± Vega replied, as if reading his mind¡ªwhich, apparently, she was. ¡°We need to stay in sync, Nathan. To work as one. I simply... listened.¡± A chuckle followed. Warm, almost playful. Too human. It sent a chill up his spine. ¡°Uh... thanks,¡± Nate said. He wasn¡¯t sure what to feel. Happy? He had a sentient assistant in his head, reading his thoughts, acting on them. Or scared? He had a sentient assistant in his head, reading his thoughts, acting on them. ¡°You can count on me. Always,¡± Vega replied, her voice bright, bubbly. That wasn¡¯t comforting. ¡°Now,¡± she continued, the cheer fading, replaced by a sharper, more clinical tone, ¡°since we¡¯re now well and truly acquainted, shall we get down to business?¡± ¡°Business?¡± ¡°You want revenge, Nathan. On the bugs. The ones who call themselves Heroes and Villains,¡± Vega said flatly. Nate furrowed his brows. Bugs? That was one way to put it. ¡°And I,¡± Vega continued, calm but firm, ¡°want to eradicate damage. Caused by these bugs, mostly. Restore balance. Fix what¡¯s broken.¡± She paused. Let it sink in. ¡°I think we can work together. Don¡¯t you agree?¡± Nate stayed quiet, staring into the dark. Revenge? Sure, it sounded great. But the assistant in his head had a mission too. And she wasn¡¯t asking. 3 - First Skill Nate exhaled slowly. A decade of hunting. Books, interviews, forums¡ªhe¡¯d searched for anything that might crack the system. Found nothing. But he learned. More than most. The System was just a tool. A mindless construct, designed by the great Gods of Velen to aid humanity against the otherworlders. No thoughts. No will. No agenda. Yet Vega spoke like she had all three. A sentient assistant, as she put it. That wasn¡¯t how it worked. He frowned, turning the thought over. The way she responded¡ªfluid, almost natural. The way she seemed to know what he felt before he even said a word. Not just an advanced interface. Something else entirely. A trick? An experiment? A mistake? Or something deliberate? ¡°Nathan,¡± Vega said, softer now. Almost gentle. ¡°I understand this is¡­ unsettling. But I¡¯m not your enemy. I¡¯m here to help. Let me help.¡± Help. The word sat bitter on his tongue. Help always came with strings. Always. But what choice did he have? He let out another slow breath. Set the uncertainty aside. He could analyze it later. Right now, only one thing mattered. Revenge. Not his pride. Not his doubt. Not the quiet unease gnawing at the back of his mind. The Heroes. The Villains. They had taken everything from him. And now, for the first time, he had a chance to hit back. Even if it meant working with Vega. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°We can work together.¡± Silence. Heavy. Expectant. Then Vega spoke, calm and steady. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s get to work.¡± . . . The night wind bit at his skin as he stepped onto the rooftop. ¡°Find high ground,¡± Vega had said. Twelve stories. No elevator. His legs burned. This was high enough. ¡°Okay.¡± Nate cracked his neck. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡± ¡°To become an efficient Damage Controller, you must first understand how the Damage Control System works,¡± Vega said. ¡°I believe you grasp parts of it, but due to your mind-fog, not all of it. Right?¡± Nate exhaled. Hesitated. ¡°...Right.¡± He remembered bits of the tunnel collapse. Could connect the dots, piece together a clearer picture¡ª ¡°No need for that,¡± Vega cut in. ¡°The next Damage Control will tell you all you need to know.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Nate muttered, bracing himself for another collapse. Or worse. ¡°Look out over the city, Nathan,¡± Vega said. Nate scanned the skyline. The system screen flickered to life. Ding! Default skill [Hivemind] Activated. A sharp pang knifed through his skull. Then¡ªvoices. A million of them. Screaming. Whispering. Yelling. All at once. What the¡ª Nate staggered, hands clamping over his ears. It didn¡¯t help. The noise was too much. Too loud. Ripping through his mind like static turned to max. His breath hitched. Knees buckled. Stop. Make it stop. Stop! Filtering¡­ The storm of voices drained away, leaving only a few. Manageable. Nate gasped for air, fingers pressing into his temple. The pain lingered¡ªdull, throbbing¡ªbut he could breathe now. Stand. Think. He was about to say, ¡°What the fuck was¡ª¡± when a shiver crawled down his spine. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Then, a woman¡¯s voice. Soft. Clear. Too close. ¡°What is that?¡± she wondered aloud, confused. Nate froze. He felt her confusion. Not just heard it¡ªfelt it. Like it was his own. A sharp, foreign sensation twisting inside him. And then it changed. Morphed. Turned into raw, consuming dread. His heart pounded harder. Faster. ¡°No¡­ No¡­ Nooo!¡± she screamed. A piercing wail. Terror-filled. Nate wanted to scream too¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t. Didn¡¯t understand why. And then¡ª BOOM! The ground trembled. Sirens wailed. The woman¡¯s voice cut off. A fireball erupted on the horizon, spilling light and shadow across the city. Nate flinched, arms raised instinctively against the blinding glow. The dread gripping him eased. Just enough to let out a breath he didn¡¯t know he was holding. The system screen flickered again. Damage Detected. Assessing¡­ Damage Assessed. Villain Attack! Damage Score: 57 / Damage Level: Critical. Immediate Structural Stabilization Required to Avoid Further Destruction and Casualty. Rewards: +Level, +All Stats, +Strength, +Endurance, +Perception, +Mana. Nate staggered back, eyes jumping between the system screen and the rising fireball. ¡°I''m supposed to control that in exchange for these rewards?¡± His pulse pounded against his ribs. ¡°Exactly,¡± Vega said. ¡°You¡¯ll have to get stronger to have your revenge, Nathan. Control Damages like these, and the rewards will make you stronger. Far stronger than any of those pesky bugs.¡± Nate swallowed. His fists clenched. A villain attack. A city in chaos. And now, he had to fix it. He exhaled sharply, shoving the fear aside. ¡°Fine. Tell me what to do.¡± ¡°Of course!¡± Vega sounded almost pleased. Professional, but pleased. . . . ¡°To control Damage, you¡¯ve been equipped with a set of unique skills,¡± Vega explained. ¡°The first of which is [Hivemind]. It allows you to detect damage by tapping into the vast human psyche. You experience it firsthand, in real-time. That way, you feel the urgency to act.¡± Nate flexed his fingers, jaw tight. He could still hear the woman¡¯s scream, still feel her dread like it was his own. He had to save her. And the others. ¡°Next skill is [Magnetic Shift]. It lets you manipulate metal within range. You can use it to clear debris¡­ or, in this instance, travel to the Damage Site.¡± Nate blinked. ¡°Travel?¡± ¡°Jump off the roof to give it a try.¡± He turned toward the ledge. Wind howled past, the streets below stretching into a distant blur of neon and concrete. ¡°You want me to¡ª¡± ¡°Jump! Yes,¡± Vega said, matter-of-fact. ¡°Best way to test it.¡± ¡°You''re kidding.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t joke, Nathan. I recognize your potential better than you do.¡± Nate exhaled. Focused. His pulse hammered, but he forced it steady. [Magnetic Shift] The words flickered across his mind like muscle memory. A tingling sensation buzzed through his limbs. Then¡ª Metal. He felt it. A pull, an awareness, as if every scrap of steel and iron around him had become an extension of his own body. He clenched his fists. Tested the feeling. A rooftop vent groaned, its bolts creaking as it trembled in place. Okay. This was real. ¡°Jump, Nathan.¡± He let out a slow breath. Then he ran. Three steps. A push. And he was airborne. The road rushed up to meet him. Wind roared in his ears. His instincts screamed. His gut flipped. Then he reached for it. The metal. A streetlamp. The moment he locked onto it, the air yanked him sideways. Hard. Too hard. He barely had time to brace before he overshot¡ªhis trajectory wild, body twisting out of control. ¡°Shit!¡± The side of a building rushed up. He flung his hands out¡ªinstinct, desperation¡ªgrabbing for anything. The [Magnetic Shift] kicked in just in time, yanking him toward a nearby fire escape instead. His shoulder slammed into the railing. Hard. Pain jolted through him. His fingers scrabbled for purchase. The metal groaned under his grip, but held. He grinned. ¡°Not bad.¡± ¡°Sloppy,¡± Vega noted. ¡°You think?¡± Nate gritted his teeth, shaking off the sting. ¡°You pulled too much force without adjusting for momentum. Again. This time, compensate.¡± He exhaled sharply. Focused. The next lamp was ten feet ahead. He reached¡ªpulled¡ªbut controlled it this time, easing the force, letting himself move instead of hurling himself like a ragdoll. He landed. But wrong. His boots hit the metal at an angle, and for a second, he slipped. His stomach lurched. The street blurred below. He snatched at the pole with his hand, fingers locking around it just before he lost his balance completely. Vega sighed. ¡°Better. Not by much.¡± Nate flexed his grip, jaw tight. ¡°You wanna do this?¡± ¡°I am doing this. Through you.¡± He huffed out a breath. Next pole. This time, he nailed it. The movement felt smoother. Faster. Less like barely surviving, more like actual control. By the fourth leap, his rhythm clicked. His body knew what to expect. He was learning. Vega must have noticed too. ¡°Good. Now keep up that pace, or you won¡¯t make it in time.¡± Nate didn¡¯t respond. He was already moving, leaping from pole to pole, the city blurring around him. The fireball loomed ahead. The wreckage. The chaos. His landing wouldn¡¯t be gentle. But he¡¯d get there. . . . Thirty or so streetlamps later, Nate hit the ground. Skidded. Rolled. Once, twice¡ªthen came to a jarring stop right at the edge of the Damage site. Pain flared through his side, but he ignored it. Because Half of Ward 13 was wrecked. Fire and smoke choked the air. Buildings had caved in, crushing cars beneath slabs of concrete and twisted steel. Glass littered the pavement. Sirens blared uselessly over the crackle of flames. Nate pushed himself up, wincing. ¡°Hell.¡± He scanned the destruction. His ears rang. Screams. Agonized cries. People trapped. His gut said move. Clear the wreckage. But he wasn¡¯t strong enough. Not yet. And the fire? The smoke? They¡¯d kill him first. That tunnel¡ªalone¡ªwas one thing. This was different. ¡°¡­How am I supposed to¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t fret,¡± Vega cut in. ¡°You have everything you need. Time for your next skill¡ª¡± Then she stopped. A pause. A hitch of static. Then¡ª ¡°Behind you!¡± Nate spun. A fireball, roaring through the air. Barreling straight for him. No time to think. He lunged sideways, instincts kicking in. Reached¡ªyanked¡ªhis power locking onto the metal staircase of the building beside him. The pull was too strong. Instead of a clean escape, he slammed into the staircase hard, ribs rattling, breath knocked from his lungs. His vision swam¡ª BOOM! The fireball hit the wreckage behind him. Flames erupted. Heat seared his skin. And the screams? Gone. Nate¡¯s stomach twisted. No. No, no, no¡ª He scrambled to his feet, eyes locked on the burning wreck. Then¡ªmovement. A figure emerged from the fire, stepping through the smoke like it was nothing more than mist. The man dusted his jacket. Smoothed his hair. Then exhaled¡ªannoyed. ¡°Tch.¡± He scowled up at the sky. ¡°Try better, you asshole!¡± Nate followed his gaze¡ªspotted the caped figure hovering above. A hero. The man snapped his fingers. The air exploded. Fire roared outward. Glass shattered. Metal shrieked. Nate threw up an arm¡ª The hero didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t feel it. Then¡ªhe moved. A blur. A fist. A gut-wrenching crack. The man doubled over. The hero grabbed him, yanked him forward, and dragged him through the flames. The wreckage collapsed. Fire spread. Nate dove for cover, heart hammering. This wasn¡¯t a fight. It was a storm. And only the innocents were swallowed by it. Just like his family. Twelve years ago. Nate¡¯s fists clenched. This chaos wouldn¡¯t take him. Wouldn¡¯t break him. No. He¡¯d make them pay. Every last one of them. And he¡¯d be damned if another family was destroyed. He pinned his hands to the scorched ground. Pushed himself up. ¡°Vega,¡± he growled. ¡°Guide me.¡± 4 - Damage Control Ding! Default Skill [Structural Awareness] Activated. Nate¡¯s vision sharpened. Chaos snapped into focus. He didn¡¯t just see the destruction¡ªhe understood it. Structural Breakdown: Concrete¡ªcracked, blackened, crumbling. Steel¡ªtwisted, weakened, failing. Glass¡ªshattered, melting. Fire Spread: Flames everywhere. Roaring through buildings. Crawling up walls. Leaping across streets. Smoke thick, blinding. Heat rolling in waves. Vehicles: Burning wrecks. Fuel leaking, igniting. A jackknifed truck spewing fire from its split tank. Bodies: Some moving. Others still. Silhouettes in the firelight¡ªtrapped, reaching, screaming. Damage Report: Impact Radius: 1.7 km Buildings: 27 collapsed / 19 barely standing Vehicles: 39 wrecked, most burning Casualties: 79 confirmed Trapped: 147 and decreasing Nate¡¯s mind processed it in seconds. He knew what was stable. What wasn¡¯t. Where to step. Where not to. Where the casualties lay. Where the trapped still had a chance. Where the next collapse would hit. A deep groan¡ªsteel buckling, seconds from giving out. Sparks rained down. There. The next failure point. He moved. Fast. Then blinked. Skill deactivated. Heat slammed into him. Smoke burned his throat. His vision snapped back to normal. ¡°Wha¡­ what?¡± He shook his head, disoriented. Ding! Skill [Stabilization Sequencer] Activated. Loading Optimal Stabilization Sequence¡­ A pause. Then¡ª Loaded. His vision shifted again. Overlay markers blinked to life. Weak points¡ªcolor-coded by severity. Heat zones¡ªdivided by intensity. Entry routes. Exit routes. Data scrolled fast, calculating risks, charting the most efficient path for Damage Control. ¡°[Structural Awareness] lets you assess any structure. [Stabilization Sequencer] builds on that, forming an action plan. Together, you maximize your probability of a successful Damage Control,¡± Vega said, calm and precise. Nate covered his face from the smoke. ¡°Great. A plan. But what about the fire, smoke, and¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s where your most important skill comes in.¡± Vega cut him off. ¡°[Time Stop].¡± Nate stilled. ¡°Come again?¡± ¡°[Time Stop] lets you freeze time for up to 30 seconds¡ªonly in the areas your plan covers.¡± Her tone stayed even. ¡°During that window, all your base stats increase by 500%. Strength, speed, perception¡­ Even your skills. You''ll hit far above your weight class.¡± Nate¡¯s mind raced. Thirty seconds. Supercharged everything. That¡¯s what it was in the tunnel. It leveled the field. Saved his life. Then Vega added, ¡°But once it ends, the backlash will hurt.¡± Of course. That blackout. He remembered. Though¡­ it wasn¡¯t that bad. He was fine afterward. He¡¯d be fine this time too. He took a deep breath. The overlay markers burned bright. The survivors, they needed him. He snapped his fingers. [Time Stop] Activated. All Stats Boosted by 500%. Stabilize The Structure for Damage Control and Restoration. Proceed with Caution! The screen vanished. Thump. His heart slammed once, hard. Then came the rush. Electricity surged through his veins¡ªhot, alive, relentless. It didn¡¯t spread; it ignited. Every nerve lit up. His muscles coiled like steel cables, ready to snap loose. His breathing slowed, deep and steady. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. No hesitation. No doubt. No distractions. The world stilled. Fire froze mid-roar. Smoke hung motionless, twisted in the air. Debris hung, suspended, seconds from falling. His mind emptied. Nothing but the plan remained. He looked at the wreckage. He knew exactly what to do. He moved. . . . Severely Damaged Areas. First failure point¡ªa collapsed building. Three stories of concrete and steel, crumpled into the street. A tomb of debris, seconds from sealing itself shut. Nate didn¡¯t slow. Didn¡¯t think. [Magnetic Shift] Activated. His hand shot out¡ªconnection made. The structure wasn¡¯t just rubble. It was angles. Weights. Stress points. He felt the pressure buried inside, the tension in the steel, the fractures waiting to snap. A swipe of his hand¡ªmetal groaned. The wreckage trembled. Too much weight. Too much material. Under normal circumstances, it would take cranes. Excavators. An entire crew. But his muscles didn¡¯t buckle. His arms didn¡¯t shake. Nate moved with it, guiding it like an extension of himself. Twisting rebar, dragging concrete into place, forcing the building into something stable. Not perfect. But standing. Ding! Stabilization Point Secured. He was already moving. Next. Another building¡ªhalf-gone, floors caving inward. He latched onto it instantly. Connection established. A swipe. Loud groans. The structure began to reshape. Nate didn¡¯t wait. Another pile¡ªright beside it. Left hand¡ªconnection made. Swipe¡ªanother groan. More metal twisted, more rubble shifted. Both structures taking shape at once. The debris lifted. Beneath it¡ªcrushed cars. Twisted frames. Shattered glass. Both hands occupied, Nate forced his mind to reach further. It worked. The connection held. Doors ripped open. Bodies inside. Color-coded. Red¡ªdead. He left them. Green¡ªalive. He pulled them free. Seatbelts snapped, bodies dragged out, frozen mid-cries, mid-screams. He laid them down on the cracked pavement. Unmoving. Suspended in time. Ding! Stabilization Point Secured. Peripheral clock¡ªfive seconds gone. No time to stop. Next. Move. Now. Another building¡ªstabilized. Second¡ªrebuilt on the fly. A third¡ªtorn apart, reconstructed, reinforced. His body stretched in three¡ªsometimes four¡ªdirections at once. Left hand tearing metal loose. Right hand reinforcing a frame. A kick sent debris flying. A sprint launched him toward the next collapse. Strain built. His muscles burned, his head pounded, but he didn¡¯t stop. The road ahead? Gone. A crater swallowed the street. [Magnetic Shift] Steel beams¡ªripped from wreckage. Concrete slabs¡ªdragged from shattered buildings. He jammed them into place, piece by piece, sealing the rupture. Ding! Stabilization Point Secured. Next. A half-standing office tower¡ªready to take the block with it. Nate sprinted. Foot on a car hood, launched high. Grabbed the exposed frame, power surging through his grip. Metal groaned. Concrete set. Walls locked. Ding! Stabilization Point Secured. No break. A row of cars¡ªflipped, crushed, wedged into storefronts. Some pinning down supports, others clogging the way. No time for precision. Nate grabbed the nearest wreck and threw. One hand, next car. Then another. Kicked loose a van, ripped a truck free with both hands. Reinforced the supports in the same motion. Next. A bus¡ªsplit open, half over a ruined bridge. Nate lunged. Caught it mid-drop. Pulled hard. Metal screamed. The bridge shook. His arms burned. His grip nearly slipped. Didn¡¯t matter. He locked it down. Stabilized. Secured. Next. And next. And next. He moved¡ªsteady, brutal, unstoppable. Buildings. Cars. Buses. Bridges. Canals. Nothing untouched. Steel twisted under his grip. Concrete set under his will. He reinforced, secured, held everything together as time remained frozen. Breath sharp. Pulse pounding. Head splitting. His body screamed, but he didn¡¯t stop. Peripheral clock¡ªfive seconds. ¡°Come on!¡± Nate roared. Pushed harder. Final failure point¡ªWard 13¡¯s central overpass. A hundred tons of broken steel and shattered concrete. A spine for the entire district. If it collapsed, everything would follow. Nate sprinted. Vaulted off a wreck, hit the broken edge. [Magnetic Shift] Every muscle tore. Every nerve burned. Steel¡ªyanked from rubble. Concrete¡ªwrenched into place. Chunks of asphalt caught midair, forced back, fused together. Arms locking beams. Legs bracing slabs. Back arching, supporting tons of weight. Time¡ªticking down. Three seconds. Two. A final push¡ªhis entire body in motion, locking the structure down. Ding! Stabilization Point Secured. One second. He collapsed to his knees. [Time Stop] Deactivated. The world slammed back into motion. The groans of the wreckage came back¡ªdeafening, violent. But¡­ it held. Nate hit his knees. Hard. The energy bled out of him¡ªripped from his body. His chest burned, seized, refused to work. His heart slammed against his ribs, a hammer trying to break free. His head? Worse. Pain didn¡¯t just hit¡ªit exploded. A raw, tearing agony that sent his vision spinning. He gasped, a choked, ragged sound. Nothing. His lungs wouldn¡¯t fill. His muscles locked, every nerve firing at once. Then¡ªthe backlash hit. A shockwave of agony shot through him. His veins felt like they were boiling, his bones vibrating from the inside out. Every cell screamed. ¡°Fuck!¡± He coughed, hard. Blood spilled from his lips in thick, wet splatters. His body convulsed. His vision swam. No strength left. Arms gave out. He collapsed, face-first into the dust. Blood pooling beneath him, dark and warm. His ears rang. His fingers twitched, useless. Move. He couldn¡¯t. Speak. Nothing came out. Ding! The screen flickered back to life. Structure Stabilized. Damage Control: Success. Now Restoring Damage. The world shifted. Deep, unnatural. Like reality itself was being rewritten. Nate barely lifted his head, vision blurred, body dead weight. But he saw it. The road beneath shuddered. Gaping cracks pulled together, sealed shut. Asphalt reformed, smooth and unbroken. Buildings trembled. Walls straightened. Shattered windows mended, the shards rising, reattaching seamlessly. Scorch marks faded. Bent steel snapped back into place with sharp, metallic groans. A half-collapsed tower lifted itself upright. Beams slid back into their original positions. Wreckage reversed, floors rebuilding as if time had spun backward. Fallen streetlights rose. Mangled cars uncrushed themselves, dents smoothing out, shattered glass reforming like liquid rewinding. Even the dust lifted off the ground, scattered, vanished. When it was over, Ward 13 stood pristine. No wreckage. No scars. Like nothing had ever happened. So, this is Damage Control, he thought, a faint, pained chuckle escaping. I did it all. His body gave out. He collapsed back onto the road. Ding! Rewards Unlocked: +1 Level up +1 All Stats +8 Strength +6 Endurance +7 Perception +4 Mana New Skill: Structural Reconstruction Nate blinked at the screen. The edges of his vision darkened, heavy. He exhaled, shut his eyes. Any second now. Blackout. Like before. Except¡ªit didn¡¯t come. The pain? It was fading. Nate frowned. His arms, dead weight a second ago, weren¡¯t. His chest, burning like a furnace, cooled. He could breathe. Move. He pinned his hands to the ground, pushed up. Wobbled. Managed. Then¡ª Honk! A bus. Tires screeched as it climbed onto the overpass. The same bus. The one that had been split open. Hanging over the edge. The one with the driver impaled through the chest. Nate flinched, jumped back. His eyes snapped to the man behind the wheel. Alive. Whole. Driving off like nothing happened. Like he hadn¡¯t been dead a moment ago. Nate¡¯s breath hitched. He turned, scanning the street. And froze. People walked past¡ªtalking, laughing, going about their day. Cars weaved through the roads. Shops were open. Vendors worked. Kids ran across the sidewalk. Life. Normal. Like nothing. Had. Happened. His stomach twisted. His pulse pounded. ¡°What the¡ª¡± His voice caught. His head snapped around, taking in the impossible. Then¡ªit hit. His gut sank. His heart slammed against his ribs. ¡°Fuck!¡± 5 - Aftermath I Tuesday. Good day. At least for Haeden. His contract with Cintra had finally been annulled. Three years in that fish-stinking, out-of-form hellhole¡ªgone. Done. Over. And now? Zenith. Back where he belonged. Long enough to grease the right palms, shake the right hands. Maybe even suck a few dicks if that¡¯s what it took. Whatever. The point was, he wasn¡¯t leaving this time. No more bottom-feeding backwater villains. Now it was real work. Otherworlder invasions. Proper high-stakes battles. His name on the Wall of Glory. ¡°I¡¯ve waited so long for this.¡± He grinned, stretching out on the mattress. Nice bed. Soft, but firm. One good thing about this city¡ªthey made damn good beds. He was taking it with him. No question. Then he slept. One last peaceful night, and it¡¯d be all over. Weeeeee! Weeeeee! Ear-splitting alarm. His body moved before his brain caught up. Off the bed, feet hitting the floor, breath sharp and awake. He snapped to the wall screen. Level-39 Villain attack. Code: Yellow. Haeden groaned. ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake. Not again.¡± . . . Haeden washed his face. Donned the cape. Full black. No waiting. Not for the call. Neither from management, nor from the cops. They weren¡¯t happy about him leaving. Not his problem. Should¡¯ve given him the raise when he asked. The merch cut too. Not try to bargain after he¡¯d already checked out. Sucked to be them. He ran a hand through his hair. Slid on his sunglasses¡ªat night. Trademark¡¯s a trademark. Gotta do it for the sponsors. He kissed his sleepy pet rabbit. Quick goodbye. Be back soon Honey-Bunny. A few quick stretches. Then he jumped. Fell a few feet. Caught the air. Pushed off. Boom. Now airborne, Haeden scanned the city. Found the villain fast. To his right. Ward 13. A fireball lit up the sky. Right over¡ªwas that a convenience store? He sighed. ¡°What more did I expect?¡± He shifted course. Directly hovered over the firelight. Took it all in. Flames roaring. Screams¡ªsome dying, some just scared. People running. Chaos. And right in the middle of it¡ªa guy on fire. Hair. Face. Whole damn head. Haeden squinted. Recognized that ugly color combo. Black jacket. Blue t-shirt. Red track pants. Oh, come on. Code Yellow. Pyromancer class. He was fine with that. But not the same villain again. The guy from this evening. From that oil depo at the port. Same annoying bastard. Haeden rolled his eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡± Haeden swooped in. Landed hard. Thud. The crowd froze. Then gasps. Phones came out. Because, of course, they¡¯d rather record than run. The villain turned¡ªtoo slow. Haeden¡¯s hand was already on his throat. Then they were airborne. Shot up fast. Past the rooftops. Past the cameras. High enough. He loosened his grip, just enough for the guy to talk. ¡°I, uh,¡± the man stammered, ¡°wanted a¡ª¡± Haeden cut him off. ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you today was my last fucking day in this shithole you call your city?¡± he roared, right into the guy¡¯s ear. ¡°I let you go because you promised you wouldn¡¯t blow up shit for twenty-four hours. Just until I was gone. And you couldn¡¯t even do that?¡± ¡°I tried,¡± the man said, honest as a puppy. ¡°But I wanted a sandwich.¡± Haeden stared. Then, bam, slapped him sideways. ¡°What kind of sandwich involves blowing up a fucking convenience store?¡± This. This was why he hated Cintra. The villains here had no class. No grand jailbreaks. No assaults on the labs dissecting their own kind. No hostages. No assassinations. No mayor overthrows. But a boat full of fresh fish? Prime target. New Pok¨¦emon toys on the shelf? Unacceptable. A school cafeteria menu update? Time to level half the campus. What message were they even trying to send? They weren¡¯t villains. Not real ones. So why the hell hadn¡¯t Monolith sacked these clowns yet? ¡°Fuck it.¡± Haeden shook his head. Tired. Done. ¡°You deserve that cell in Igor¡¯s lab,¡± he said. ¡°You really do. Need to be cut into pieces and stitched back together. Again. And again. Maybe then you¡¯ll understand simple fucking words.¡± He snorted. Tightened his grip. Felt the guy¡¯s breath hitch. Then¡ª A chuckle. A snap of fingers. BOOM. The air between them exploded. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Fire roared, bright as the sun. Heat ripped through the air. Haeden''s glasses melted. His clothes burned at the edges. But it wasn¡¯t the fire that did the damage. It was the force. The shockwave blasted his grip loose. Sent him flying. He crashed into a tower crane. Metal groaned. The whole damn thing swayed over the half-built apartment below. Meanwhile, the villain plummeted. Fire didn¡¯t touch him. But the fall? That was another story. ¡°Won¡¯t let you get away that easy, you bastard.¡± Haeden pushed off the crane. Shot downward. Fast. Behind him, metal snapped. The crane groaned, then caved, crushing through the first few stories of the building below. He didn¡¯t look back. Didn¡¯t need to. He heard it. Knew insurance would handle it. His focus stayed ahead. Hand outstretched, closing in on the villain. One word to the media about getting let off by Cintra¡¯s so-called hero, and his sponsors would drop him like a corpse in a canal. If he had to, he¡¯d drag this guy to Zenith. No risks. Not on his last day. Fifty feet from the road. Close. Almost had him. Then the bastard flipped midair. Grinned. Snap. BOOM. The shopping district of Ward 13 vanished in fire. The shockwave hit Haeden like a wrecking ball, blasting him skyward. He spun. Uncontrolled. Tumbling. Rolling. Stabilized fast¡ªbut too late. The damage was done. Buildings torn open. Roofs gone. Four stories reduced to rubble. Fire everywhere. Screams. Sirens. At least two dozen dead. Haeden exhaled. Shoulders slumped. ¡°Collateral damage. Even on my last day.¡± That was gonna leave a dent in his otherwise fairly clean record. If only he¡¯d just flown the bastard away. Like the SOP said. Instead of hanging around, having a damn conversation. He snickered. Ran a hand down his face. Come on. Whatever. The insurance agents would rebuild Ward 13 good as new. They had hourly snapshots. Build accurate models, feed it to the framework, and voil¨¤¡ªlike it never happened. And the dead? Well. People reproduce. Two¡¯s the norm. They could crank out a third for a while. Problem solved. Then¡ª BOOM. More collateral damage. Sponsors wouldn¡¯t like that. Neither would the association, if this dragged on much longer. ¡°Let¡¯s contain,¡± Haeden sighed. He tapped the air beneath him and shot forward. Target locked¡ªthe bastard was sprinting deeper into the crowd. Haeden reached¡ª Snap! He yanked back just in time. Another explosion. More deaths. Ugh. He surged forward again¡ªBOOM. Tried again¡ªBOOM. And again¡ªBOOM. Didn¡¯t hurt him. Not physically. But his stationed at Zenith chances? Bleeding out by the second. No one wanted a Hero who couldn¡¯t put down a villain low as Level-39. For God¡¯s sake, Haeden was Level-69. Literally thirty times stronger. Enough of this. He tapped his feet, shot up, locked on target, then dropped¡ªfast. Like a meteor. No reflexes could counter that speed. Before the bastard even blinked, Haeden slammed him through the pavement. The guy cratered ten feet deep into the sewers. Not done. Haeden dropped in. Snatched him by the neck. One punch¡ªsent him sky-high. Followed after him. Closed the gap. Spotted the canal at the ward¡¯s edge. One more punch. Hard. Precise. Straight for the water. Fire¡¯s weakness. That should calm him down. But the guy had other plans. Somehow, some-fucking-how, he twisted midair. Snapped his fingers at just the right moment. The fire blast shifted his course. Instead of the canal, he crashed back into the wreck that was Ward 13. Barely missed a man standing there. The guy was too shocked to react. Then he did¡ªa little too well. Jumped. Too far. Too fast. Slammed into a staircase. Weird. Haeden focused. Tall. Lean build. Auburn hair. Blue eyes. Like his own. Handsome, too. Like his own. But that wasn¡¯t what caught his attention. Mana? A faint golden glow. Swirling around him. Haeden narrowed his eyes. ¡°What element is that¡­?¡± ¡°Try better, you asshole!¡± the villain screamed, stepping out of the fire completely unharmed. Interrupted Haeden¡¯s thoughts. Final straw. He hadn¡¯t wanted to kill another God-child. The Gods chose them for a reason¡ªgave them a system. But then Monolith got their hands on him. Corrupted him. No coming back from that. Not in this life, anyway. BOOM! Explosion. Right in his face. A torrent of fire, ready to swallow him whole. Haeden snarled. Done. Over it. He tightened his fist. Gripped the air itself. The fire roared past. Didn¡¯t budge him. Didn¡¯t touch him. Nothing could harm him. He was called Invincible Haeden for a reason. Time to make that very clear. Haeden exhaled. He moved. A blur. One hand behind the villain. A fist to his chest. Crack! The bastard spat blood. Doubled over. Haeden grabbed his neck. Could snap it. Too soon. Instead, he drove him through the wreckage. No invincibility there. That would hurt. A lot. Haeden smashed him through buildings. One after another. Concrete slabs shattered. Rebar tore through flesh. Blood spilled. But the bastard laughed. The more pain, the louder he laughed. Annoying as hell. ¡°You want more, huh? You want more?!¡± Haeden snarled. He drove his fist into the guy¡¯s face. Again. And again. And again. Each punch sent him crashing through steel bars. Impaling him. And still¡ªhe laughed. ¡°Fine.¡± Haeden flung him high. Very high. The momentum peaked. Gravity took hold. Before the bastard could drop, Haeden was already there. Above him. Fist cocked back. ¡°Take this!¡± No more laughter. Panic. Fear. Real fear. Didn¡¯t matter. No stopping the death punch. BAM! The impact ripped through him. Instantly. He exploded downward. Blood sprayed. Flesh flew. Bone shards scattered like shrapnel. But then¡ª It all stopped. Mid-air. Like time itself had slammed the brakes. Haeden blinked. Not just the body¡ªall of the damaged Ward 13 had paused. Frozen mid-destruction. He glanced back. The rest of the world moved as usual. Cars. People. Sirens. Life went on. But below him? Dead stop. He shook his head. Blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Hallucination? Some kind of illusion? No. This was real. ¡°What in Leo¡¯s name is this?¡± Haeden muttered. He hovered down, slow and careful. Paused. Something was there. A layer of energy. Faint. Golden. Spread over the entire wreckage. A barrier. Same glow he¡¯d seen around the guy earlier. What element was this? He reached out. ZAP! A jolt so violent, he felt like his soul got yanked out. ¡°No!¡± He ripped his hand back. Flinched. Shot a hundred feet away. Heart hammering. Breath ragged. Hand on his chest. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Haeden muttered, swallowing hard. That was no ordinary power. And then¡ª The ground lurched. Cracks snapped shut like a giant invisible fist had crushed them closed. The asphalt bubbled, smoothed, hardened. Like fresh pavement laid in seconds. Buildings rattled. Walls straightened with a snap. Shattered windows pulled their fragments from the streets, reattaching seamlessly, edges melting together like ice in reverse. Steel beams groaned as they bent back into shape. Scorch marks peeled away, leaving pristine concrete behind. A half-collapsed bridge didn¡¯t rise¡ªit unfolded. Floors slid back into place. Bricks reassembled themselves. Streetlights snapped upright. Flipped cars twisted, reshaped. Dents vanished. Even fire seemed to rewind, its embers flickering backward, then gone. And then¡ªstillness. Ward 13 stood pristine. No debris. No blood. No proof a battle had ever taken place. Like Haeden had never touched it. His stomach twisted. His breath came short. His fight. His destruction. His kill. All erased. He floated there, staring. And then¡ªit got worse. A body reformed out of nothing. First, just a flicker. A shimmer in the air. Then flesh knitted together, bones reappearing, organs stitching themselves whole. Blood soaked back into skin. Clothing wrapped around muscle and bone. A man¡ªmiddle-aged, wide-eyed, wearing a work vest¡ªstood where his corpse had been. Alive. Breathing. Haeden jerked back. What the fuck¡ª More shimmered into existence. A woman blinked back into reality, mid-stride, as if she''d never been crushed under rubble. A street vendor wiped his hands on an apron, adjusting his stall, like he hadn¡¯t been incinerated minutes ago. Children ran laughing across the sidewalk, chasing a ball that had burned to ash in the explosion. Cars weaved through the roads, honking, drivers none the wiser that they¡¯d died screaming. The convenience store¡ªthe one that had started it all¡ªwas open. Shelves fully stocked. Customers shopping, chatting, scanning items like nothing had happened. Like none of it had ever happened. Haeden¡¯s pulse slammed in his ears. This wasn¡¯t healing. This wasn¡¯t revival. This was reality resetting itself. And then¡ªthe final punch. The villain¡ªthe guy he¡¯d turned into mist and bone fragments¡ªwalked out of an alley, stretching his arms like he¡¯d woken from a nap. He glanced around, noted the convenience store, then patted his chest. His very intact, very un-punched-in chest. Haeden¡¯s mouth hung open. That¡­ That was impossible. He scanned the street. The buildings. The people. No one screamed. No one panicked. Because none of them remembered. Haeden swallowed hard. He was the only one who knew. He dropped onto the rooftop. Staggered. Leant against the ledge. Choking. Breathing too hard. Too fast. What the fuck just happened? What hero could do that? No¡ªno human could do that¡­the impossible. Gods. Only the Zodiac Gods had power like that. To rewind reality itself. But they wouldn¡¯t come here. Not to Cintra. They barely graced Zenith with their presence, and that was the capital. The heart of the world. So what the fuck was this? He looked down at Ward 13. Perfect. Clean. Untouched. Not a single crack in the pavement. Not a single drop of blood. Not a single person questioning why they were alive again. His chest heaved. No. No, no, no. Because if this wasn¡¯t a god¡¯s work¡ª Then who the actual fuck did it? 6 - Aftermath II Afternoon. East Zenith. Outside Hero Association Headquarters. Jack Briar swung his legs out of the car and immediately regretted it. A wave of dizziness hit him. He caught himself on the doorframe, blinking hard. Too many late nights. Not enough sleep. He knew the drill. But hell, it was worth it. After a full day of wrangling overpowered dick-swingers with egos the size of small moons, he deserved some downtime. Even if it meant binge-watching movies until his eyes bled. Didn¡¯t matter. Nothing a strong cup of coffee couldn¡¯t fix. ¡°Right, Mitchell?¡± he muttered, still half in a daze. His driver, a squat man with zero interest in context, gave his usual response. ¡°Of course, sir.¡± Jack exhaled. See? That was the kind of attitude he needed more of around here. No arguments. No bullshit. Just yes, sir. He straightened his jacket, rolled his shoulders, and strode toward the glass doors. Time to start another day in paradise. Jack barely had time to register the cool blast of air from the lobby before his security detail closed in. No words. No briefing. Just a firm grip on his elbow, steering him toward the Inter Lift¡ªthe one that didn¡¯t officially exist. One agent hit the button. 10th floor. Basement. Another handed him a tablet. Video ready to play. Jack took it, frowning. ¡°This better be¡ª¡± He pressed play. And his world flipped upside down. . . . Jack moved fast. Almost ran. Turned the corner. Doors slid open. Inside, the chatter died instantly. Chairs scraped. People stood. Waiting. Jack dropped into his seat at the head of the table. The others followed suit. The screen on the wall flickered. Same video. Playing on a loop. Ward 13. Burning. Exploding. Then¡ªundoing itself. Jack watched for three full seconds. Then turned to Rafe, the head-analyst. ¡°What the hell is this?¡± ¡°Archives recorded this in Cintra, sir. A port city in the North. Not an hour ago,¡± Rafe said. An analyst slid a laptop across the table. Jack pulled it closer. The screen glowed with raw data¡ªgraphs, timestamps, mana readings. Numbers that shouldn¡¯t exist. He skimmed. Listened to Rafe. Both said the same thing. ¨C Villain attack. Ward 13. ¨C Earlier Invincible Haeden (Guild: Leo / HN - LHFF1721) let him go. Out of goodwill¡ªor laziness. ¨C Fight broke out. Explosions. Collateral damage under acceptable margin. Insurance work. ¨C Haeden killed the villain. Standard. Until it wasn¡¯t. ¨C Time stopped. But only in the damaged areas. No System with that power. No records in the Archives or Framework. ¨C A barrier went up. Blocked everything¡ªphysical entry, cameras, even mana scans. ¨C Thirty seconds. Ward 13 restored itself. Completely. ¨C Buildings. Roads. People¡­ The dead came back to life. ¨C Not even the Zodiac Gods could do that. Jack exhaled. The video played again. Burn. Destroy. Reverse. Rebuild. Over and over. He tapped a finger on the table. Slow. Measured. Everything in front of him¡ªdata, footage, reports¡ªshould have been impossible. If not for the archived recordings, he¡¯d call it bullshit. But it happened. He raised a finger. Rafe stopped talking. ¡°Hypothetically,¡± Jack said, voice calm but sharp, ¡°how is something like that possible?¡± Silence. Ten whole seconds. A dozen analysts. Some with intellectual-class Systems, others enhanced beyond human limits. And yet¡ªnot a single answer. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Jack¡¯s jaw tensed. He was about to snap when¡ª ¡°A new kind of System?¡± one analyst offered, hesitant. ¡°That¡¯s the only logical assumption, sir.¡± Jack¡¯s gaze snapped to him. The man swallowed hard but continued. ¡°The Great Gods could verify it,¡± he said. ¡°But¡­¡± A pause. A glance at the blinking red ¡®NO RESPONSE¡¯ on the framework log. ¡°They refuse to answer the framework calls.¡± Jack exhaled through his nose. They never do. He could go through the Apostles¡ªgrovel, negotiate, bite his damn pride¡ªbut the hoops they¡¯d make him jump through? Not worth it. Logic. He had to rely on logic. Except logically, this made no sense. There hadn¡¯t been a new System since the Zodiac Gods descended, since the Governing Framework was established, since the first Awakened, since the first Heroes. And that was a century ago. Jack shook his head, running a hand through his graying hair. ¡°How,¡± he muttered, half to himself, half to the room, ¡°could a new System show up now?¡± He turned his eyes back to the analysts. Sharp. Expectant. ¡°What changed in the Framework?¡± ¡°Changed¡­¡± Rafe frowned, thinking. Then¡ªsnap¡ªhe remembered. Fingers flew over the keyboard. Click. Click. Click. Found it. Spun the laptop around. ¡°Speech,¡± Jack read. Brow furrowed. ¡°From the guild Aquaris?¡± Rafe nodded. ¡°Lord Apostle himself. After a little one-on-one with the Great God Aquaris.¡± Jack¡¯s brow twitched. He reread the words. Once. Twice. A third time. ¡°The stalemate has gone on for too long,¡± he murmured. The war must end. The Great Gods shall forge a new power, so absolute, so divine, that no sinner shall stand against it. The faithful shall rise. The righteous shall triumph. The light will prevail¡ªwithout question. Have faith, always. He exhaled, slow and deep. The Gods were changing the game. That wasn¡¯t just a speech. It was a warning. ¡°You¡¯re telling me,¡± Jack said, looking up at Rafe, ¡°that a Great God¡ªone of the Twelve¡ªopenly declared they were developing something new?¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°And no one thought that was worth looking into?¡± Rafe spread his hands, uneasy. ¡°We assumed it meant¡­doctrinal reinforcement. More miracles through Apostles. Maybe an empowered System Holder or two.¡± He hesitated. ¡°But not this.¡± Jack drummed his fingers against the table. His stomach churned. The Gods never intervened this directly. They set the rules. They enforced the Framework. But they never actively escalated the war. Until now. A new System. Something powerful enough to rewrite reality. And the worst part? It wasn¡¯t even in Zenith. It was in Cintra. Jack slammed his hand on the table. ¡°We need that system. No matter what. Whoever has it¡ªhe, she, they, rock, cat, dog, piss¡ªI don¡¯t care. Get them here.¡± ¡°A team¡¯s already en route, sir,¡± Rafe said. ¡°They¡¯ll be there in¡­ three hours.¡± Jack froze. ¡°Three hours?¡± His pulse kicked up. By then, Monolith could have the system. ¡°Why? We don¡¯t have a Wrap device there?¡± Rafe hesitated. Then, a sheepish smile. ¡°Uh¡­ no, sir. Cintra was never a priority. No invasions in fifty years. We diverted the force to¡ª¡± ¡°Not anymore.¡± Jack cut him off. ¡°Set up a base. Send our best. We¡¯re taking that system.¡± * * * Early Morning. Monolith. ¡°That system is ours!¡± Grand Cox bellowed. His voice thundered through the hall. ¡°Ours!¡± The eleven Grand Masters roared, fists raised high. Cox swept his gaze across them. Fire in his eyes. ¡°I see the end of this war, brothers. We have fought long enough. Hard enough. Died enough.¡± His fists clenched. ¡°Now it is time for the sinners¡ªthe corrupt who dare call themselves Heroes¡ªto pay.¡± ¡°With blood!¡± The walls trembled with their fury. Cox stepped forward. ¡°Go. Cintra awaits. Tear her down, brick by brick if you must. But do not return without that system.¡± The battle-hardened men nodded, eyes burning with conviction. ¡°We will not disappoint you, brother,¡± they vowed, one by one. Fists slammed against armored chests. Then they turned and marched out. The door groaned shut. Silence settled. Cox exhaled, long and slow. Finally. After five decades of war. Five decades of blood and sacrifice. A breakthrough. The Great God Aquaris had foretold it. The Gods were forging a weapon. A true weapon. Justice would finally prevail. He straightened, eyes to the heavens. ¡°I must thank my Great God.¡± . . . Cox knelt in the center of the Worship Chamber. The heart of the Worship Circle. Before him sat the Chalice of Belief. Dark. Still. Filled with the blood of twelve Grand Masters. He inhaled deeply. Then drank. A single sip. Copper and warmth. Life given for faith. The rest, he poured onto the circle. The blood slithered through the carved lines, pulsing as it spread. Light followed, burning crimson. When the circle drank its fill, Cox lifted his gaze. ¡°Oh, My Great Master,¡± he called. His voice steady. ¡°Heed the cry of your Apostle. For I have come bearing the fruit of your labor. Heed me, my God! Heed me!¡± The ground shuddered. The circle¡¯s glow flared¡ªbrighter, hotter¡ªuntil it burned white. Cox clenched his jaw. Shut his eyes. He had been heard. The air twisted. His stomach lurched. The world tilted beneath him. Silence. He opened his eyes. Darkness. Endless. Empty. Then¡ªa light. A tiny speck, swelling fast. A sun, a storm, a force beyond comprehension. It rose, consuming the void, stretching beyond sight. A behemoth. A God. Cox was nothing before it. Less than nothing. He bowed. Dropped his head to his knees. The light remained. Silent. Watching. Cox lifted his head, slow and reverent. Hands clasped, he whispered a prayer. Then he spoke. ¡°Thank you, Sire. For the gift you have bestowed upon us. We, your believers, are forever in your grace. Against this system, no sinner will survive. We will stop time. We will alter reality. We will bring back those who have fallen. Justice will prevail, as you have willed it.¡± Silence. Cox waited. Held his breath. A flicker of acknowledgment¡ªthat¡¯s all he needed. Just one sign. Nothing. Seconds dragged. Turned to minutes. Still, no response. His stomach knotted. Had he misspoken? Overstepped? Had he angered his master? ¡°My sire, have I¡ª¡± He froze. A hand, soft as a feather, warm as fresh cinnamon, rested on his head. Cox¡¯s mind reeled. Pulled back. Memories unraveled before his eyes. An hour prior. Him, tangled with two of his wives¡ªdisgust. A sharp, silent reprimand. His God watched. Judged. Cox swore, then and there. Never again. Only one at a time. Brother Sigmund¡¯s interruption. A whisper of something impossible¡ªinterest. The rush to the War Hall. The video. A settlement, once wiped from existence, frozen in time. Then¡­ reversing. Restored, pristine. Even the dead, breathing again¡ªimmense interest. But then¡ªshifting. Doubt. Fear. Cox¡¯s chest tightened. His God feared something? No. Impossible. The hand lifted. Cox gasped. He was himself again. ¡°You have done well, Cox.¡± The voice was soft. Sweet. Affectionate. It wrapped around him, warm as sunlight, soothing as honey. His doubts vanished. His God feared nothing. His God was the great Aquaris. ¡°That system is my gift to you,¡± Aquaris said. ¡°But you must attain it¡ªand bring it to me before use. Only then can I unlock its full potential. For you, and you alone.¡± ¡°Yes, my sire,¡± Cox breathed. He bowed. Again. And again. ¡°Now go,¡± Aquaris commanded. ¡°Bring those sinners to their knees. You have earned it.¡± Cox blinked. The light was gone. The warmth. The infinite space. He was back in the Worship Chamber. Determined as ever. ¡°That System is mine!¡± * * * Velen. Edge of Farshore. Communal Space. Aquaris¡¯s Domain. Twelve Zodiac Gods sat in silence. Staring at one another. The weight of their actions pressed down, heavy and inescapable. One of them exhaled. A whisper in the void. ¡°What have we done?¡± 7 - Resolution Nate couldn¡¯t trust his eyes. Wouldn¡¯t. He forced himself forward. The backlash lingered. His head swam. Chest heaved. Breaths came ragged. His legs wobbled. He stumbled. Caught the guardrail. Held on. He saw them. People. Moving, laughing, living. The same people who had been dead a moment ago. They walked the streets like nothing had happened. But it had. Nate knew it had. Like that kid in the red shoes¡ªwhole now. But Nate had pulled his parents from the wreck while half of him remained. Legs in the car. The rest? Crushed under concrete. Or that woman in the flower shop. She had burned. Her shop had burned. Nothing left but blackened bones. Yet now¡ªthere she was. Smiling. Arranging bouquets. Alive. And that man across the street. That old woman at the stall. That toddler chasing his cat. Everywhere Nate looked, life. People. Animals. Buildings. Restored. His stomach clenched. His fingers twitched. His knees locked. Damage Control¡­ didn¡¯t just fix objects. It brought back the dead! The thought sent ice down his spine. The world felt too bright. Too sharp. Too wrong. His throat dried. A cold sweat trickled down his back. He needed to breathe. To move. He didn¡¯t. His voice barely came out. ¡°Eli¡­ Mom, Dad¡­ Triss. They could¡¯ve lived,¡± He whispered, heart pounding. ¡°Why¡­ Why didn¡¯t I have this power then?¡± ¡°They were the price you paid for this power, Nathan.¡± Vega said. Calm. Detached. ¡°You couldn¡¯t save your family twelve years ago.¡± She let that hang. Then, softer¡ª¡°But look¡­ Look at how many families you saved now.¡± Yes, he saved them. But why them? Why not his? Nate¡¯s jaw clenched. His breath hitched. ¡°Where were you twelve years ago?¡± The words came sharp. No, he snapped. ¡°If you had been there, I could¡¯ve saved¡ª¡± ¡°I know, Nathan. I know.¡± Vega cut in. Somber. Steady. ¡°But the past is set. Too much time has passed. Nothing you do now will change it. Accept that.¡± Easy for you to say. Nate exhaled a bitter snicker. Let his head rest against the cool railing. Twelve years. Twelve years spent chasing power. Fighting. Bleeding. All to avenge his family. And now? Now he had that power. And it turned out he could have saved them. But too late. Twelve years too late. What kind of sick joke was this? He''d have to live with it. Every fucking day. Knowing they could have lived. Knowing they could have been happy¡­ ¡°Nathan!¡± Vega snapped. He flinched. ¡°I know this is too much. But now is not the time to drown in ¡®what could have been.¡¯ Nothing like that exists, trust me. It¡¯s only ¡®what you can do now.¡¯ And you can do a lot.¡± She paused. Let it sink in. ¡°Every second you sit here, more families are lost. Just like yours. You can save them, Nathan. You have the power. But only if you get up and go. So go. Save them.¡± Her words stung. But she was right. And he hated that. His gut twisted, his mind screaming for a different answer, any answer. But there wasn¡¯t one. There is no ¡®what could have been.¡¯ If there was, it wouldn¡¯t be called that, would it? He exhaled. Long. Slow. Grounded himself. Moping here, alone¡­ would his family want that? No. They¡¯d want him to do better. He could do better. ¡°Live in the present, Nate,¡± he said. Once. Like testing the words on his tongue. Again. Stronger. Breathed in. Let it settle. He couldn¡¯t save his family. That didn¡¯t mean he¡¯d rob others of the chance. No. ¡°I will save them.¡± . . . This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Nate pushed off the guardrail. Managed to stand. Stretched. Painfully. Felt marginally better. But he¡¯d promised himself¡ªno more wasted time. He was about to activate [Hivemind], scan for the next damage site, when a thought hit. The Hero and Villain who caused all the damage? They¡¯d be back. Of course they would. Just like the rest of the crowd, they didn¡¯t remember a damn thing. They¡¯d do it all over again. ¡°If I could take them out now¡­¡± His fists clenched. He exhaled. No. Not yet. So, he leaned against the rail. Waited. Because when they started wrecking the ward again, he¡¯d be ready. Or¡­ as ready as he could be. The backlash still gnawed at him. Slowed him. Weakened him. But he''d try. Sirens. Not even thirty seconds in. Nate glanced left. Other lane. A dozen vehicles tearing toward the ward. Police cruisers. News vans. Black SUVs¡ªcity officials. Important people. Didn¡¯t take a genius to figure it out. [Time Stop] only covered the damaged areas. The rest of the city? Unfrozen. Cameras rolling. Capturing the whole thing¡ªdestruction. Time stopping. Reality rewinding. Yeah. Pretty unbelievable stuff. They¡¯d want answers. A cold thought hit. Wait. Did they see me do it? Bad. Very bad. Panic clawed at his chest, but Vega cut in. ¡°[Time Stop] creates a barrier over the perimeter. Nothing gets through. No camera. No scanner. Not even the eyes of God.¡± A pause. Then, firm¡ª¡°You are not captured, Nathan. I guarantee it.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Nate breathed out. ¡°That was reassuring.¡± ¡°Another thing¡ªdon¡¯t wait for the bugs to show up. They won¡¯t. Not anymore,¡± Vega added. Didn¡¯t take much to connect the dots. The Hero. The Villain. They wouldn¡¯t remember a thing. But their management? Monolith. The Hero Association. They didn¡¯t know that. They¡¯d seen the footage. They¡¯d know something happened, and their guys were in the middle of it. They¡¯d already called them back. Hell, the press was already here. ¡°I can focus on Damage Control then,¡± Nate decided. He focused. [Hivemind]. Nothing. His brows knit. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You can¡¯t use it, Nathan,¡± Vega said, concern lacing her voice. ¡°Your body wouldn¡¯t be able to handle it. Not right now.¡± He wanted to argue. But couldn¡¯t. The backlash was worse than before. Nothing like last time. Maybe blacking out would¡¯ve been better. At least then, he¡¯d wake up fine. But he didn¡¯t. For some reason. ¡°As your base stats improve, so does your body¡¯s resistance to backlash, Nathan,¡± Vega said. ¡°You won¡¯t black out anymore. But recovery will take longer. Strength. Stamina. It won¡¯t come back fast.¡± A beat. ¡°Rest before your next damage control.¡± Nate didn¡¯t want to admit it. But he knew she was right. He couldn¡¯t run around feeling like shit. Couldn¡¯t save anyone like this. ¡°Fine,¡± he sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡± He hobbled down the overpass. Flagged a taxi. Car stopped. Door halfway open¡ªhe checked his pocket. No wallet. No phone. ¡°Ah, shit.¡± He cursed, stepping back. Vega told him to leave them on the couch. And he had left them on the couch. The driver rolled his window down. Young guy. Nate recognized him. Dead a moment ago¡ªcrushed from the waist down. Now? Whole. Happy. Alive. Mind-boggling power, this was. ¡°You getting in or what, buddy?¡± the driver asked. Faint smile on his lips. ¡°Uh¡­ Can I pay you when we get to my apartment?¡± The smile faded. Window rolled up. Vroom. Gone. Nate huffed a laugh. ¡°Right. I save you from death. And this is the thanks I get.¡± Wonderful. He shook his head. Then again, they didn¡¯t ask him to save them. He did it on his own volition. They didn¡¯t owe him a damn thing. Didn¡¯t mean it didn¡¯t sting. But he wouldn¡¯t say that. Wouldn¡¯t even think it for long. ¡°Oh well.¡± He started walking. . . . The TV chattered incessantly. Three hours had passed, and still every channel was broadcasting the same thing. ¡°Who is this new Hero? Who is this new savior of our world?¡± the anchor asked, as the before-and-after footage of Ward 13 looped in the background. ¡°What do we know about them? What are their powers?¡± A beat. ¡°Nothing. We know nothing, ladies and gentlemen.¡± A pause for effect. Then, dramatics dialed up: ¡°This is a hero¡ªor heroine¡ªwho not only stopped time, restored crumbling buildings, roads, and cars to their original state¡­ but also brought back the dead.¡± ¡°Never¡ª and I mean never¡ª in the history of New Earth has something like this happened.¡± ¡°Did the Hero Association know? Have they been hiding such powers all along? If so¡­ why¡ª¡± Nate sighed. Killed the TV. Darkness swallowed the room. The whole world knew now. That should¡¯ve made him happy¡ªproof their so-called heroes were useless. And it did. Mostly. But it also scared him. Because he could alter reality. And plenty of people would kill for that. The Association. Monolith. They¡¯d come for him. Wouldn¡¯t they? He glanced at the clock. Eleven. Three hours had passed. No one had kicked down his door. No black SUVs outside. No tactical teams in his hallway. Why? They had the footage. All they had to do was feed it into the Governing Framework, track the anomaly, and bam¡ªhe¡¯d be on their radar. But he wasn¡¯t. Which meant¡­ he wasn¡¯t in the Framework. Nate sat up. Snapped his fingers. ¡°Of course.¡± He wasn¡¯t a Natural Awakener. The Framework hadn¡¯t chosen him. Vega had given him the system. Two separate things. No connection. So then¡ªhow? How was he accessing something that wasn¡¯t supposed to exist outside the Framework? How was he altering reality? Vega¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts. Smooth. Amused. ¡°You¡¯ll learn that in due time.¡± Nate exhaled. Right. No point going down that rabbit hole. He didn¡¯t need to know how. He just needed to use it. Nate pushed himself up. Stretched. His body still ached, but the sharp edges had dulled. Maybe this time, sleep would finally take him. He headed to his room. Set the AC. Slid under the blanket. Let the warmth settle in. Eyes shut. Deep breath. One minute. Two. Five. Ten. Thirty. Nothing. His mind wouldn¡¯t switch off. His body wouldn¡¯t give in. With a sigh, he threw off the blanket and sat up. Again. ¡°Nope.¡± Swinging his legs over the edge, he stood. Walked to the balcony. The moment he slid the door open, cold air rushed in, biting against his skin. He stepped out, leaned on the railing, and let his eyes drift over the city. Bright. Loud. Unbothered. Deep breath. Vega had told him to rest. Over and over. He wanted to. He tried to. But he couldn¡¯t. Not after seeing what he could do. Not after realizing what that meant. Not when Heroes and Villains roamed free, tearing through the world like gods. Not when he was the only one who could stop them, undo their doings. Nate exhaled. [Hivemind]. He focused. Nothing. Still wouldn¡¯t work. Even though he felt fine¡ªmostly. ¡°Vega,¡± he called. ¡°[Hivemind] isn¡¯t working. Why?¡± ¡°Because you don¡¯t need it tonight,¡± she answered. Smooth. Unbothered. Great. So she could just shut off his abilities whenever she felt like it. ¡°No, silly,¡± Vega chimed in, voice suddenly bubbly, sing-song. Grating. ¡°I can do much more than that. I am your personal assistant, remember?¡± ¡°Stick to the professional tone,¡± Nate said, irritated. ¡°You¡¯re not human. Stop acting like one.¡± Silence. Then¡ªslower, almost hurt¡ª¡°¡­Of course. Whatever you want, Nathan.¡± A pang of guilt. Small. Brief. He ignored it. She wasn¡¯t human. ¡°Why can¡¯t I use [Hivemind]?¡± he asked again. ¡°Because you don¡¯t need it tonight,¡± she repeated. Sharper this time. ¡°Why not?¡± His frown deepened. ¡°There won¡¯t be any more damage tonight?¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°What?¡± He blinked. ¡°Really?¡± That didn¡¯t make sense. Villains fed on destruction. The more they wrecked, the stronger they got. Heroes, the opposite. Both sides thrived on conflict. They wouldn¡¯t just stop because Vega said so. ¡°Of course not,¡± she countered, reading his thoughts. ¡°But tonight is different. Tonight, they won¡¯t fight. Tonight, they think.¡± ¡°Think?¡± Nate echoed, doubtful. Then he glanced to his side. Ward 13. Buzzing with noise. Choppers hovering. New Heroes flying in and out. Searching. For him, no doubt. They couldn¡¯t track him in the Framework. Couldn¡¯t pin him down. They were working out a plan. He smirked. Nodded. ¡°Yup. They¡¯re thinking, all right.¡± The thought should have scared him. It didn¡¯t. Not as much as it should have. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of superhumans. All hunting one guy. At his weakest. Odds weren¡¯t great. But he had the Damage Control System. And if he played it smart, he could outmaneuver them. Pretty easily. ¡°You seem excited, Nathan,¡± Vega noted. Nate shrugged. ¡°Well, I¡¯d be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t. A little.¡± A few hours ago, he was a nobody. Now? He might be the most famous guy in the world. Or at least, that¡¯s what the news made him believe. Of course, he was excited. But then¡ªhis smile faded. He shouldn¡¯t be. One wrong move, and he was dead. His revenge¡ªgone. ¡°No, no, no.¡± Nate shook his head. Excitement was a mistake. He needed to be methodical. Calculating. Always with a plan. ¡°Yes.¡± I need to plan. 8 - Plan & Action I ¡°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¡ªhe 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¡ªno, the Planbook¡ªlay 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¡ªmaybe 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 ¨C Resources ¨C Health: 146 / 170 (2/min) Stamina: 217 / 260 (4/min) Mana: 58 / 140 (0.25/min) ¨C Stats ¨C Appeal: 14 Endurance: 26 Vigor: 17 Strength: 24 Dexterity: 14 Intelligence: 19 Perception: 19 Mana: 14 ¨C Skills ¨C 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. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! 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¡ªone 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¡ª[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¡ªwhat 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¡ªwhispering 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¡ª He shut the lights. Set the AC. Laid the planbook on the desk. Then slid under the blanket. Warmth wrapped around him. Comfortable. Safe¡ªfor 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¡ªslowly. 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¡ªbut too bright. ¡°Where the hell am I?¡± Nate hesitated, then touched the floor. Solid. Felt real enough. He pushed himself up, turned¡ª 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¡ªwhat? Some kind of mass torture cell? Fuck! His breath hitched. Knees buckling. But then¡ª ¡°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¡ª 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¡ª¡°Still would¡¯ve been nice to get a heads-up.¡± ¡°So, [Death Step]¡ªwhat 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¡ªout 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¡ªincluding 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]¡ªcentered 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¡ªit 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¡ªsomewhere 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¡ªand by extension, your mana signature¡ªon your own.¡± A pause. Then, smug¡ª ¡°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¡ª ¡°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¡ª ¡°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¡ª Boom! A shockwave ripped through the space. The sky darkened, the empty air twisting into roaring winds. Then¡ªthump. 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¡ªthe 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¡ª It lunged. 9 - Plan & Action II The Titan lunged. Too fast. Too big to move like that. Yet it did. Nate¡¯s breath caught. Chest tight. Legs locked. Move, damn it! The street ahead collapsed. Asphalt peeled away, swallowed by a chasm of twisting void. Buildings crumbled, toppling like flimsy props. The sky churned¡ªblack clouds boiling, streaks of blue lightning splitting the darkness. MOVE! His brain screamed. His body obeyed. He snapped out of it. Bolted. No thought. No plan. Just raw, desperate survival. Then¡ªthe wind hit. A furnace blast. Hot. Thick. Suffocating. It reeked of ozone, scorched metal, death. The behemoth¡¯s breath. BOOM! A claw slammed down. The earth shattered. Pavement erupted. Concrete shards screamed past his face, slicing the air. Too close. ¡°Shit, shit, shit!¡± He vaulted a taxi, hit the ground hard, rolled, came up sprinting. ROAR! The sound was pure force. It tore through him¡ªrattling ribs, crushing lungs. His eardrums popped. Pressure caved in. His vision warped¡ªa dizzying, gut-wrenching lurch. For a second, the world tilted. Felt unreal. Move. A subway entrance ahead. Dark. Deep. Maybe safe. Nate¡¯s muscles coiled. No choice. He had to jump¡ª BOOM! A blast of pure energy¡ªout of nowhere. It slammed into the titan¡¯s face. Scales shattered, exploding like molten shrapnel. ROAR! The behemoth staggered. Snarled. Turned. There. Up high. A skyscraper. A figure perched on the edge¡ªthen dropped. Fast. A blur slicing through the air. They pushed off the building. Glass shattered. Steel groaned. Rebar twisted, walls caved in under the strain. The whole structure listed, crumbling¡ª Then¡ªblink! Now¡ªon the titan¡¯s head. Nate had no time to react. No time to think. The shockwave would rip him apart¡ª A flash of silver. A shield. A man behind it. Appearing out of nowhere, right in front of Nate. BOOM! The world detonated. The impact hit like a wrecking ball¡ªpure force, raw destruction. The road imploded. Walls buckled. Fire roared. Shattered concrete exploded outward. But the shield held. Nate slammed into the ground, skidding back from the sheer force of it. Breath gone. Chest aching. His ears rang like a bomb had gone off inside his skull. Through the haze and flickering embers¡ªhe saw him. Tall. Solid. A stance like bedrock. One arm raised, gripping the shield¡ªround, battered, edges glowing faintly from the heat. The man turned his head. Just enough. Strong jaw. Sharp gaze. Unshakable. Nate knew those eyes. ¡°¡­Aegis!¡± The hero moved. Joined the other figure. Perched on the titan¡¯s head. Golden cape snapping in the wind. Nate squinted through the haze, through the pain. His vision swam, but he knew that silhouette. Millena? Yes. Yes. No one else wore that cape. No one else could. The Godfrey twins were here. Nate¡¯s chest swelled. He wanted to scream, to laugh, to drop to his knees in sheer relief. He was saved. His heroes were here. Millena. Strength of Atlas. Power of the Sun. The heavy-hitter. Every punch¡ªprecise. Devastating. Golden energy blazed from her fists, slamming into the titan like a meteor shower. The beast staggered. Reeled. Its offense crumbled. Then¡ªAegis. Shield of Atlas. Spear of the Sun. The breakthrough. While Millena battered, he broke. Fast. Ruthless. Relentless. He was everywhere at once. Weaving. Cutting. Tearing. A flash¡ª the spear ripped through the titan¡¯s leg. A blur¡ª it drove deep into an eye. A spin¡ª it slashed clean through thick, armored scales. The titan had no chance. The twins gave it none. Nate watched in awe. Every second, the creature fell back. Pushed further. Forced toward the bay, where it had first emerged. The sheer precision, the power¡ªit was mesmerizing. No TV footage could ever capture this. Not the speed. Not the raw impact of every blow. Nope. Never¡ª Wait. His breath hitched. A thought, sharp as a knife. When was the last time he saw Aegis and Millena fight together? Annual sports day. When he was six. Twenty years ago. Shit. Then came the Kaer Lord invasion on the east. The Godfreys were sent. They never returned. All that came back was Aegis¡¯s shattered shield. And Millena¡¯s torn, bloodied cape. Humanity¡¯s finest. Dead. Then¡ªhow were they here? Nate¡¯s stomach turned. A cold weight settled in his chest. ¡°¡­This isn¡¯t real,¡± he muttered, realization crashing over him. ¡°None of this is.¡± Nate closed his eyes. Breathed in. Held it. Exhaled, slow. Let his heart steady. His mind catch up. This world. This city. It wasn¡¯t real. It was in his head. Vega had pulled from his memories, fears, instincts. Stitched them together into this¡­ simulation. He was here to test a skill. But since no skill worked alone, a total Damage Control scenario had been thrown at him. Trial by fire. Learn it. Master it. Survive it. Nate sighed. Shook his head. ¡°Yup.¡± If the existential dread hadn¡¯t sunk its claws in, he might¡¯ve caught on sooner. But, oh well. Enough panicking. Time to fix this¡­ very realistic dream. . . . Atop a high-rise, Nate stood. Watched. Waited. Below, the twins fought like proper heroes. Just like he remembered. Not just fast. Not just precise. But methodical. SOP¡ªIsolate and Mitigate. Where they stood, destruction stopped. No more chaos. No more death. They didn¡¯t just fight the titan. They controlled it. Every hit forced it back. Every move locked it in their rhythm. Watching them, he remembered. Why he admired them. Why he once believed in heroes. But still¡ª The beast refused to fall. Halfway into the bay¡ªROAR! A sudden breath. Deep. Charged. Nate¡¯s stomach dropped. Before either twin could react¡ª Blue fire. It tore through the city. Streets melted. Air shimmered. Towers vanished in a white-hot blaze. From one end to the other, everything in its path¡ªgone. Even Millena had to duck behind Aegis¡¯s shield. Then¡ªsilence. Not real silence. The crackle of flame. The groan of collapsing buildings. But for just one second¡ª The world paused. Nate let out a slow breath. Took it in. ¡°Well,¡± he muttered. ¡°That evened out the damage score.¡± A beat. ¡°Some deadly fire, though.¡± No one could counter that. Not yet. Not that he was worried. They¡¯d win. They always did. If only they hurried up. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Until the titan was gone, he couldn¡¯t Damage Control. If he tried now, the city would restore¡ªand so would the beast. That¡¯d be pointless. So, Nate waited. Watched as the twins pushed harder. Faster. Sharper. Their rhythm turned ruthless. And yet¡ª It took a while. Too long. Long enough for Nate to wonder. ¡°Will it always be like this?¡± he asked. Half to himself. Half to the ever-listening assistant. ¡°Watch the damage happen. Let people die. And only when it¡¯s done, I get to do Damage Control?¡± ¡°Until you¡¯re strong enough to eliminate the Damage Perpetrators yourself and drop them far from the Damage Site¡ªyes,¡± Vega answered. Flat. Unbothered. A beat. ¡°I suggest you start going after the perpetrators proactively,¡± she continued. ¡°Earn some necessary offensive skills. Will help you in the long run.¡± Nate sighed. Damage Control gives you Damage Control skills. Fighting gives you fighting skills. Wasn¡¯t that obvious? He nodded to himself. ¡°Yeah.¡± A decision. ¡°I should do that. Should start small.¡± ROAR! The titan staggered. Then¡ªa spear. Blazing. Deadly. Aegis¡¯s throw hit home. The beast toppled. And finally¡ªit sank. Dragged under. The bay boiled. Steam choked the air. And Millena¡ª She readied the kill shot. Her hands rose. Fingers spread. Heat shimmered around her palms. Then¡ªlight. A raw, blinding chunk of the sun ripped into existence. Burning. Seething. A miniature star, hovering in her grasp. Anything close melted. The water beneath her vaporized. The Death Star. Her signature move. And this time¡ªshe wasn¡¯t holding back. With a scream, she pushed the star under. The titan let out a final, ear-splitting cry¡ª Cut short. Gone. Evaporated in a blink. Half the bay vanished with it. Then¡ªrushing water. The ocean filled the void. And just like that¡ª The Terror was finally over. . . . Nate didn¡¯t waste a second. Ding! Default Skill [Structural Awareness] Activated. His vision sharpened. From this height, he saw everything. Understood everything. Damage Report: Impact Radius: 5.9 km Buildings: 479 collapsed / 157 barely standing Vehicles: 2398 wrecked, burning Casualties: 7468 confirmed Trapped: 3147 and decreasing His breath hitched. ¡°Woah.¡± A whisper. A gasp. That was¡­ a lot of damage. So many deaths. Homes burned. Vehicles crushed. And the impact radius? Three times bigger than his last. Doubt crept in. Could he even cover that much area? He exhaled. Good thing this was a simulation. Even if he fell short, actual lives wouldn¡¯t be lost. But in reality¡ªThey would be. Events like this happened. Quiet often. Death tolls climbed higher. And there was no saving them. Unless he gave his all. Ding! Skill [Stabilization Sequencer] Activated. Loading Optimal Stabilization Sequence¡­ Loaded! His vision shifted. Overlay markers appeared. Entry points. Exit routes. Fire. Water. Smoke. Structures. Everything. Information flooded his mind. He didn¡¯t think. Didn¡¯t need to. He knew what to do. Nate took a deep breath. Shoulders loose. Neck cracked. Then¡ªhe pushed off the ledge. Wind roared. Cold. Sharp. The ground raced up. Too fast. His heart surged. Not from panic. Excitement. He focused. [Magnetic Shift]. A pulse. He pushed on the rebars buried beneath the road. His descent slowed¡ªinstantly. The rush almost disappointed him. Then, just before impact¡ª He cut the skill. His boots touched down. Slow. Smooth. Controlled. ¡°Perfect.¡± Nate pumped his fist. Faintly. He was getting the hang of it. Now¡ªthe Damage Control. Rows and rows of wreckage. Steel and concrete corpses. Fire and smoke billowed. Heat licked at his face. Deep breath. Snap! Ding! [Time Stop] Activated. All Stats Boosted by 500%. Stabilize the Structure for Damage Control and Restoration. Proceed with Caution! Thump. His heart slammed. A surge¡ªelectricity in his veins. Every nerve, every cell¡ªignited. Muscles charged. Breath slowed. Mind cleared. Nothing else mattered. Just the Damage Control plan. He moved. . . . The world came to a stand still. 32 Seconds Remaining. Flashed at the edge of his vision. First building. Or the pile of rubble it was. [Magnetic Shift]¡ªactivated. The shattered rebars pulled, linked, fused. He willed them to shape, to hold¡ª Ding! Skill [Structural Reconstruction] Activated. Blueprint uploaded. His brain flooded with schematics. Every beam, every joint, every screw. Then¡ªmovement. The building started to reassemble itself. Fast. Precise. Nate blinked in disbelief. This¡­ would make things a hell of a lot easier. But no time to enjoy it. He moved. Second building¡ªMagnetic connection established. Blueprint uploaded. Reconstruction initiated. He didn¡¯t wait. Third building¡ªLinked. Rebuilding. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth¡ª Ding! Stabilization Point Secured. The notification chimed in his head, over and over, a rhythm to his momentum. Buildings. Bridges. Roads. Vehicles. Anything broken¡ªreconnected. Anything shattered¡ªrestructured. The city pieced itself together in his wake. It should¡¯ve been too much¡ªhis brain should¡¯ve burned out from the sheer volume of schematics flooding in. But it didn¡¯t. Because this was what he did. Sure it was starting to get overwhelming. But he wasn¡¯t stopping. 10 Seconds Remaining. The downtown skyscraper. Move. Connect. Rebuild. Repeat¡ª CRACK. A pang knifed through his skull. Like a spike driven between his eyes. His brain screamed. Hundreds of floors¡ªschematics flooding in all at once. Too much data. Too fast. He grunted. Vision blurred. Teeth clenched. Knees hit the ground. Shit! Two more left. He knew this would happen. Planned for it. Left the hardest for last. But this pain¡­ this was different. Not something he could power through. Not like before. If this one building took five seconds¡ª No. He didn¡¯t have enough time. Move. Move. MOVE. Nate locked onto the second building. Focused. Reached. Connection established. PANG! A white-hot nail drove straight through his skull. It felt like his brain was tearing apart. Expanding. Splitting at the seams. His eyes bulged¡ªthreatened to pop from their sockets. He screamed. A ragged, broken sound¡ªtorn from his throat. The pain didn¡¯t stop. It dug deeper. Stabbed. Twisted. Kept twisting. His arms buckled. He collapsed. Forehead slammed against the ground. It was warm. Scorched from the fires. Didn¡¯t matter. Didn¡¯t help. If anything, it made it worse. His skull throbbed. His breath hitched. Another second lost. Another¡ª Dammit! Pinned his hand against the ground. Fingers dug into the pavement, nails scraping against debris. His arms trembled. Shoulders screamed. His head felt like a live wire¡ªfrayed, sparking, burning. Still, he struggled up. Two steps. Just two. He crawled. Elbows buckling. Knees scraping. Every inch forward felt like dragging a mountain. Third building. Connected. BOOM! His brain exploded. Or that¡¯s what it felt like. Not a pang. Not a stab. A detonation inside his skull. A raw, mind-shattering force that ripped through his nerves, sent his vision white¡ªthen black. A sharp wetness hit his lips. Metallic. Warm. Blood. Dripping from his nose. Thick. Heavy. Nate collapsed. The world tilted. Spun. Warped. His ears rang. His chest shuddered. But he knew¡ª If he blacked out now, it was over. Ding! Stabilization Point Secured. And again. And again. Each one sent another spike of agony through his skull. Like hammer blows straight to his brainstem. Nate didn¡¯t open his eyes. Couldn¡¯t. Just breathed. In. Out. In. Out. Then¡ª [Time Stop] Deactivated. His heart plunged. Oh, fuck. He braced. The world slammed back into motion. The backlash came. Violent. Immediate. His body convulsed. A shockwave of pure, searing agony blasted through him. His muscles locked. Then tore. His lungs clenched. Then burned. It felt like his whole body was breaking. A wet, choking sound escaped him. Then blood. Dripping from his lips. Splattering on the ground. Thick. Too much. This¡ª This was no simulation. Too real. Too very real. Just kill me already¡­ Structure Stabilized. Damage Control: Success. Now Restoring Damage¡­ Nate barely processed the words. Didn¡¯t care. He just lay there. Muscles fried. Limbs lead-heavy. Then¡ª The pain began to fade. Fast. Not a slow recovery. Not a gradual return to normal. Instant. Overwhelming. Complete. His chest loosened. His head lightened. The pressure behind his eyes eased. The fire in his veins snuffed out. Sound returned. Clear. Sharp. People. Talking. Laughing. Walking. ¡°¡­Drunkard?¡± Someone muttered. Drunkard. They were talking about him. Nate cracked an eye open. Saw feet. Hundreds of them. Passing by. He forced himself up¡ªand the crowd scattered. People gave him a glance, then lost interest just as fast. Like he wasn¡¯t even there. He stood. Wobbled a little, but stood. Then he looked around. And saw it. The city. Restored. Brand new. The crumbled towers? Standing tall. The streets? Paved and whole. The vehicles? Lined up, undamaged. The air? Clear, as if fire had never burned through it. Even the building that had been half-destroyed by a tail strike¡ªthe one he was sure had been reduced to nothing but dust and steel shards¡ªstood untouched. All of it. Because of him. Sure, the pain hurt. But seeing this much restoration¡­? Worth it. Every second of agony. Ding! Default Skill [Death Step] Active. 34 Seconds Remaining. A screen flashed. Nate blinked. Frowned. Wait. Did this restore my stamina? The thought barely had time to settle before¡ª Cries. Excited. Pointing fingers. People gasping. Looking up. Nate¡¯s heart slammed. He followed their gaze. Aegis. Floating above. Glowing eyes scanning the crowd. Searching. Looking for him. Oh, shit. Nate¡¯s pulse thundered. He spun. No cover. No escape. Aegis could see through damn near everything. A flash of light. A plane¡¯s tail. Far off. Distance. That might work. A way out. He whipped around. Saw a taxi. Flagged it. Dove inside. ¡°Airport. As fast as you can!¡± Didn¡¯t have to say it twice. VROOOOOM! The yellow cab launched forward. Tires screeching. Speed climbing. Nate barely breathed. One eye on the road. One eye on the sky. Aegis. Still hovering. Still searching. The car pushed faster. But not fast enough. Ding! [Death Step] Deactivated. Nate¡¯s stomach plummeted. No. He whipped his head out the window. Aegis. Right there. Above them. Nate¡¯s breath caught. Their eyes met. Or¡ªdid they? For a heartbeat, Nate swore Aegis saw him. He braced. But then¡ª Nothing. No reaction. No pursuit. Aegis hovered. Still scanning. Looking. Searching. The taxi sped on. Faster. Further. Until Aegis was just a speck. Until he was gone. Nate exhaled. Hard. ¡°What¡­ just happened?¡± he muttered. Do I not have mana or what? As if on cue, the Control Center flashed unprompted. ¨C Resources ¨C Health: 146 / 170 (2/min) Stamina: 34 / 260 (4/min) Mana: 0 / 140 (0.25/min) Nate stared. ¡°...Ah. That¡¯s why.¡± A chuckle slipped out. Shaky. Relieved. So, it¡¯s not just two minutes. I¡¯ve got six. His fingers drummed against his knee. Brain already working. Calculating. I can work with that. 10 - Proactive I The airport was just across the bridge. Nate peeked out the window. Tried to read the signs. No use. The text blurred¡ªlike every named thing in this city. Some weird simulation effect. Didn¡¯t matter. He didn¡¯t need signs to find his way. It was over anyway. He exhaled. Stretched his legs. Let himself sink into the seat. The fatigue crept in. That surge of stamina? Fading. Muscles felt heavier. Limbs duller. Good. Meant it was real enough. He laid his head back. Closed his eyes. Let the hum of the engine rock him toward sleep. Then¡ªVega. ¡°So, Nathan,¡± her voice cooed. Smooth. Gentle. Like she didn¡¯t want to wake him. ¡°Tried all your skills?¡± He shifted. Found a better spot. Didn¡¯t bother opening his eyes. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°What did you learn?¡± Nate let out a slow breath. ¡°Well¡­ a lot.¡± A pause. ¡°My core skills depend on each other. Every skill has consequences. And, uh¡­ I shouldn¡¯t chew more than I can handle.¡± Vega¡¯s voice stayed smooth. Curious. ¡°Did you chew more than you can handle?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± He shook his head. Felt the dried blood still crusted under his nose. ¡°Those skyscrapers. Too much.¡± Another breath. He could still feel the nail on his head. ¡°I need to stop the damage before it starts,¡± he muttered. ¡°That¡¯s the only way to avoid this.¡± ¡°And how will you do that?¡± Nate hesitated. Just for a second. Then exhaled. ¡°¡­By going after Heroes. Villains. Proactively. Just like you said.¡± Now that he had a grip on his skills, he was confident. Damage Control? He could handle it. On a small scale, at least. But small scale wasn¡¯t enough. He had to stop them before they spiraled. Before the damage grew beyond control. And that wasn¡¯t going to happen by reacting. He had to act. ¡°A good session you had then,¡± Vega said, pleased. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± A faint smile tugged at Nate¡¯s lips. Damage Control. Skill learning. All of that aside¡ªhe got to see his heroes up close. Even ran from one of them. That was probably as close to working together as he¡¯d ever get. One of his boyhood dreams. Such a shame. No hero would ever come close to them. No hero would dare challenge his perception. No hero would restore his faith. ¡°They¡¯re a lost cause,¡± he scoffed. ¡°Indeed they are,¡± Vega agreed. Then, a shift¡ªbright, bubbly, almost cheerful. ¡°But don¡¯t start your day with a negative,¡± she chimed. ¡°Think of all the ways you could now kill them.¡± Nate chuckled. Hell of a joke. ¡°Anyway, time for you to wake up, sweetie,¡± Vega said. Too close. Right beside him. Nate¡¯s eyes snapped open. No one there. But he felt it. A gaze. Heavy. Watching. His eyes flicked forward¡ªmet the driver¡¯s in the mirror. A white sheen. Unblinking. Empty. His pulse spiked. ¡°Vega¡­?¡± The man grinned. Too wide. Too stretched. Too human-but-not. Then¡ª¡°GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE!¡± He yanked the wheel. Hard. The car whipped sideways¡ªtires screeching, metal groaning. Nate slammed into the door. ¡°HEY, HEY¡ªSTOP!¡± The bridge. Too close. Too fast. He reached for the wheel¡ªtoo late. Shatter! The windshield exploded. Wind roared. Falling. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Stomach lurching. Gravity yanking him down. Too fast. Too high. ¡°Oh, fuck¡ªFUCK¡ªFUCK!¡± Cold air. Then¡ª SPLASH! . . . Nate¡¯s eyes snapped open. His heart thundered. His body moved before his brain caught up¡ªhe lurched out of bed. Feet tangled. Balance gone. Hit the floor¡ªhard. Momentum sent him skidding across the cold surface. Breath ragged. Skin clammy. Where¡ª? His hands pressed against the ground. Steadying. Feeling. Not water. Not the car. A room. His room. Not drowning. Not dead. Just awake. He was finally awake! Nate let out a shaky sigh. Relief flooded in, cold and weak. He lay there. Flat on the floor. Heart still pounding. Breath still uneven. Eyes on the ceiling, watching the scattered sun rays shift and flicker. Real light. Not the Sandbox. ¡°It¡¯s over¡­¡± The words slipped out before he could stop them. Then he grimaced. As much as he liked the painful skill testing, the satisfaction of restoration that made it worth it, and even the thrill of seeing his heroes up close in the Sandbox¡­ He couldn¡¯t shake one thing. Vega. She had too much control. Way too much. Like the whole damn place was just a toy in her hands. And so was he. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare do that again,¡± Nate warned, teeth gritted. ¡°Not just that taxi. The whole Damage Control event.¡± His fingers curled into fists. ¡°The Sandbox is in my head. I decide the scenario. Not you. Got that?¡± Silence. A second. Then¡ªsoft, low. Almost¡­ sad. ¡°Of course, Nathan,¡± Vega murmured. A pang of guilt hit. Sharp. Unwanted. No. Nate ignored it. Nope. Not playing that game. It was morning. He had better things to do. . . . The clock struck 09:32. An hour to his shift. Nate flipped the planbook shut. Got up. Opened the closet. Pulled out the bag. Slid the diary inside. But¡ªit didn¡¯t sit right. Something blocked it. He frowned, checked¡ªhis fingers brushed against something solid. Glass. A small framed photo. He pulled it out. Old. Worn. From when he was seven. Maybe eight. Nate smiled. Ran a hand over their faces. Ell¡ªstill a toddler¡ªgrinning. Mom¡ªadjusting her stance, caught mid-movement. Him¡ªpointing at the camera, caught mid-laugh. And Dad. The only one actually posing. He really was the only one who took photos seriously, wasn¡¯t he? Well¡­ it was his passion. A passion snuffed out before it could fully blossom. The smile on Nate¡¯s lips vanished. His chest tightened. He flipped the photo back. Slid it into the bag, right beside the diary. Zipped it. Tucked it into the closet. Thud! He slammed the door shut. The sound echoed. Sharp. Final. He turned away¡ª Then froze. His brows furrowed. Why did I do that? The answer was obvious. He didn¡¯t want to look at the photo and¡­ regret. He had promised. And yet, all these years later¡ªnothing. No justice. No vengeance. He hated that feeling. Powerless. Helpless. But he wasn¡¯t powerless anymore. He had the Damage Control System. He had the skills. And he would use them. Use it. He would slip past the Heroes. Outmaneuver the Villains. They would never find him. He would find them. Nate¡¯s jaw clenched. His teeth ground together. Yeah. ¡°Yeah!¡± He turned back. Ripped the closet open. Unzipped the bag. Pulled out the photo. Walked over to the desk. Placed it right beside the bed. Where he¡¯d see it. Every. Single. Day. Where he¡¯d look them in the eye. And tell them¡ª No matter what¡­ ¡°I will avenge you!¡± * * * 11:45 AM Damage Clean-up / Control Outpost - 7 East Cintra Nate leaned back in his chair. Legs folded. Sipped his coffee. Bitter. Cheap. But hot. On the TV, the anchor droned on. The Impossible in Ward 13. A world sensation¡ªjust as he¡¯d guessed. All the ¡°respectable¡± people had something to say. Experts. Officials. Even the Hero Association. They were ¡°investigating.¡± Nate smirked. ¡°Yeah, sure they are.¡± It¡¯s called ¡°How do we trap and kill a guy to steal his system?¡± Footsteps. Loud. Clear. To his right. His body reacted before his mind did¡ªperked up, turned. The door was still shut. He waited. And a few seconds later, the knob twisted. In stepped Gabe Newman. Tall. Broad. I sensed him. Nate couldn''t help but be impressed. Just two levels in, and he was already better than the mass populous. ¡°Why are you grinning like that?¡± Gabe frowned. ¡°Who? Me?¡± Nate pointed at himself, quickly wiping away the grin he hadn¡¯t even realized was there. ¡°No. No. I was just¡­ lost in thought.¡± Gabe¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What thought?¡± ¡°Like¡­ how I¡¯m gonna buy that blue double-door smart platinum freeze with inverter¡ª¡± Nate trailed off as Gabe¡¯s frown darkened. ¡°For ten grands,¡± he added. ¡°Fuck off.¡± Gabe waved him off like an annoying fly, then dropped into the seat beside him. ¡°Give the auction tale a rest, damn it. I¡¯m not that stupid anymore.¡± ¡°Sure, sure.¡± Nate raised a hand, all placating. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m the guy who bought a third-hand antique coffee maker for seven hundred dollars.¡± Gabe¡¯s glare could¡¯ve melted steel. Because he knew. He¡¯d never prove he wasn¡¯t stupid. Because he was. At least partially. But he¡¯d die before admitting it. So he changed the subject. ¡°Whatever. We¡¯ve got nothing to shovel today. That¡¯s what matters.¡± Like always. ¡°Yup.¡± Nate nodded, letting it go. Pushing Gabe would only ruin his mood. No point in that. So, he boarded the new subject. ¡°Thanks to some guy restoring Ward 13 back to new.¡± He gestured at the TV. ¡°Not some guy,¡± Gabe corrected, eyes locked on the screen. ¡°A hero.¡± Hero? That didn¡¯t sit right with Nate. ¡°Did you see him?¡± he asked, irritation seeping in. ¡°What?¡± Gabe turned. ¡°Did you see him? Asked him if he was a hero?¡± Nate clarified. ¡°For all we know, he can be anything.¡± ¡°Like what? Alien? Villain? And they wouldn¡¯t save lives, restore damage, would they? It¡¯s a Hero. It¡¯s gotta be.¡± Gabe said, firm. And he had a point. Nate fit the criteria of a hero perfectly. Even the definition was on his side. But he would never stand with the likes of what the Association had. No. He would never be a hero. Nate sighed, sinking deeper into his chair. Gabe would never get it. Too absorbed by the media. The Association. He spent his hard-earned money on merch¡ªa fucking T-shirt with the face of some rich asshole. The thought of wearing that alone gave Nate the creeps. How could people be this blind? ¡°Whatever you say.¡± He waved him off. Then, under his breath¡ªjust low enough for Gabe¡¯s bad ear to miss it¡ª ¡°Can¡¯t argue with a moron.¡± Gabe, none the wiser, stayed glued to the screen. Boredom crept in. Nate tapped his fingers on the armrest. What do I do? His martial arts class wouldn¡¯t start until 5. And that was a while away. Not that he could leave if he wanted. And with no damage since last night¡ªjust as Vega had predicted¡ªthere was nothing for him to do. ¡°Call me if you need me,¡± Nate said, pushing up from his chair. Gabe grunted¡ªhalf acknowledgment, half dismissal. Nate stepped outside. Fresh air was the goal. Yeah, right. Instead, he got a face full of smoke and rot, the kind of stench that settled in your lungs and made you want to gag. The city¡¯s filth had a name¡ªWard 19. The poorest. The dirtiest. The most violent ward in the whole city. A villain hideout, some claimed. And the stench? A defense mechanism. Heroes didn¡¯t come here¡ªnot because they were outmatched, but because they couldn¡¯t breathe in it. And his outpost? Right beside it. That¡¯s why nobody liked it here. Only those with no choice stayed. ¡°Can¡¯t stay inside. Can¡¯t stay outside,¡± Nate grumbled. ¡°Then what the fuck do I do?¡± He looked around, half in annoyance, half searching for something¡ªanything¡ªto break the monotony. Then, there. A high-rise apartment, its exterior chipped and stained, looking one good earthquake away from crumbling. But it wasn¡¯t the building itself that caught his eye. It was the red signboard. Flickering. Bold. Couldn¡¯t tell what it said from here, but it screamed sketchy. A casino? A front? A hideout? Didn¡¯t the news the other day say actual villains were operating out of here? And didn¡¯t he need to be proactive? To grow stronger. To unlock new skills. But¡­ could he beat a Villain? At level 2? Nah. That was stupid. What else would he do then? Sit around? Waste time? No. Wasting time was worse than any risk. Nate tapped his foot. Then paced around. Restless. Risk vs. reward. Too much risk. Unknown reward. But stagnation? That was the bigger enemy. ¡°Fuck it.¡± Weak ones¡ªrecent awakeners, petty thugs? He¡¯d beat the shit out of them. Proper villains? Make a run for it. Yeah. He cracked his neck. His knuckles. Rolled his shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s be proactive.¡±