Listen to: MY FIRST STORY — "Reviver"
You ever get the feeling that the world's rules weren't meant for you?
Like gravity, momentum, physics — all of it — are more like suggestions than laws?
Yeah. Me too.
The name's Kael Arashi. Codename: FRAMEBREAKER. Quirk stack: twelve. Personality: "chill until provoked." Life expectancy: pretty decent, all things considered.
Right now? I'm dangling fifty stories up, one foot braced against the side of an office tower, the other hanging loose like I've got all the time in the world. Below me, the Hero Bureau's clean-up squad is scrambling like ants in a kicked-over anthill.
They're not here to arrest me. Nah. They're here to survive me.
"Target locked. Deploying suppression drones."
That lovely mechanical voice cracks through the public comms, nice and polite, like I'm not about to turn their drones into modern art.
The moment I hear the hiss of compressed air, my instincts kick in. Overclock floods my perception, stretching time like taffy until the world moves at one frame per second. My body? Still sharp. Still waiting.
Jet flares under my heels, a short burst — not enough to give away my angle, just enough to let gravity know I've opted out. I twist midair, limbs coiling, Springlike Limbs flexing under the skin like wound-up steel cables.
The first drone rounds the corner. Cute little thing — black shell, hard-light cannon, probably running the Hero Bureau's "nonlethal" protocol. Nonlethal for normal people.
I'm not normal.
"Engaging—"
Too slow.
I fire Gearshift. The world jerks sideways. One moment I'm hanging in the air, the next I'm behind the drone. My fist cocks back, muscles surging as Muscle Augmentation stacks onto Fierce Gains. Hardening locks in across my knuckles, the bones solidifying until they could probably bench-press the building.
Then I let it fly.
The drone doesn't explode — it ceases to exist in any meaningful shape. Pieces scatter across the skyline like confetti at a victory parade.
"One down."
My voice is flat, bored, like I'm reading off a grocery list. That's the thing about fighting — it only stays exciting until you're too fast to be challenged.
Another warning pings in the corner of my vision:
[Kinetic Readout: Impact Recoil stored – 17%]
I grin. That's the other fun part. Every hit I take? Every ounce of force that tags me? I bank it. Stack it. Spend it later.
Down below, the Bureau boys are starting to wise up. Their lead, some up-and-coming Pro Hero named Ironvault, shouts orders through a bullhorn like we're playing cops and robbers.
"Kael Arashi! You're surrounded! Stand down and surrender your quirk stack, or we'll be forced to escalate!"
I tap the comm embedded in my collar, linking back to their frequency.
"Escalate, huh?" My voice crackles through their earpieces, dry and sharp. "Buddy, you're standing in the tutorial level. I haven't even hit the start button yet."
A pause. I imagine their faces — some scared, some pissed, all very aware they've drawn the short straw on this job.
Then the sky shifts.
A ripple. A distortion in the air as their heavy hitter finally shows up.
Gravity. Pressure. A pulse that bends my bones just by standing here.
Rai Kurosawa.
My old teammate. My only real friend. The guy who's spent the last two years hunting me like I'm some boss fight that won't stay dead.
He doesn't waste time with speeches. Classic Rai. The gravity around me spikes, the air twisting into a vice. Buildings groan. Windows explode outward. My muscles lock under the force, my feet carving trenches into reinforced glass.
But this isn't my first tango with Rai.
Fa Jin unspools the stored kinetic energy in my joints, unloading all that hoarded momentum in a single twitch. My body whips sideways, slingshotting around the crush zone like a comet off a planet's gravity well.
The world snaps back to normal speed. I land, sliding across the steel rooftop of an adjacent tower, boots screeching against the metal. Sparks fly, dancing in slow arcs thanks to Overclock still humming in my brain.
I let out a breath. Calm. Collected. And just a little annoyed.
"Missed me."
Rai's gravity field settles, but the weight in the air lingers. He's not letting up. Not yet.
I lean forward, stretching my arms behind my head like I'm warming up for a jog, which — technically — I guess I am. Just not the type that ends with a participation medal.
Through the corner of my visor, his silhouette sharpens into view. Standing there, clean and polished, black compression suit with those signature white lines wrapped around his arms like electrical tape. His quirk hums through the pavement, bending space around him like the world itself is too scared to stand still.
"Kael."
That's all he says. No speeches. No 'come back to the Bureau' guilt trip. Not even a dramatic one-liner about justice.
That's what makes Rai dangerous. Quiet types don't warn you before they break your ribs.
I sigh, tapping the edge of my visor to cycle the HUD.
[Energy Levels: Stable][Impact Recoil: 24% Stored]
Good. Still plenty in the tank.
"You know," I say, casual as ever, "if this is your idea of a reunion, I'm not feeling very welcome."
His hands lift slightly — two fingers flex, palm tilting — and the gravity shifts again. Sharp this time. A sniper shot of force aimed right for my legs. He's trying to pin me before I can bolt.
Too bad I don't do pinned.
Gearshift clicks on. Reality stutters. One second I'm standing there playing sitting duck, the next I'm five meters to the left, mid-sprint, Jet thrusters flaring behind me like an afterburner.
His attack punches a crater where my feet used to be. Pavement buckles. Steel warps.
"Still as predictable as ever, Rai." I pivot midair, tapping the tension in my legs. Springlike Limbs crackle under the pressure, muscles pulling back like a drawn bow.
And then I let go.
I rocket forward, a streak of black and neon across the skyline, closing the gap before his gravity field can stabilize. My fist rears back, Fa Jin coiled in my joints, the accumulated kinetic energy begging for release.
His eyes narrow. Time slows. For a moment it feels like the entire city holds its breath.
And then something weird happens.
A ripple — not gravity. Not air displacement. Something deeper, colder, like a camera lens losing focus.
Void Chain.
A chill needles its way down my spine. My quirk senses spike red. Reality hiccups, and for half a second, the world feels... hollow.
I kill the momentum instantly, slamming both feet into a vertical airbrake using Jet, midair, muscles screaming against the sudden deceleration.
Rai notices it too. His posture shifts, head tilting like he's listening to something only he can hear.
"You felt that?" I ask, voice low, serious for once.
He nods, barely.
Void Chain wasn't supposed to be in this sector. His quirk? Black hole manipulation. Space, mass, motion — all of it, gone, erased like chalk off a blackboard. You don't fight Void Chain. You survive him. If you're lucky.
Another pulse hits. Stronger. The sky itself flickers, like a broken TV signal, the horizon distorting as patches of space start to... unravel.
This isn't just a normal extraction op anymore. Someone flipped the script.
And I don't like surprises.
"New Order: 'My body ignores gravitational effects.'"
The moment the words leave my mouth, I feel it — the world's laws bending around me. Rai's gravity pressure collapses like wet paper, leaving me light, untouchable, a living cheat code.
My HUD flashes another alert.
[New Order Rule Active]'My body ignores gravitational effects' — Duration: 30 Seconds
I land smooth, boots tapping the pavement as if I'm walking on air. Rai lowers his hand, recognizing the flex for what it is.
Not that it'll help if Void Chain shows up for real.
"Looks like your problem just became my problem," I mutter, eyes scanning the sky.
Another ripple. Closer. Reality cracks like glass under a sledgehammer.
Yeah. No mistaking it.
Void Chain's here.
And if he's here?
The real fight hasn't even started.
Funny thing about feeling invincible:
It never lasts.
Even with New Order humming in the back of my skull like a god-mode soundtrack, that cold static rippling through the air makes every nerve in my body start a quiet little panic dance.
Void Chain's signature. The villain equivalent of the Reaper tapping you on the shoulder before your HP bar even blinks.
I shift my stance, cycling through my quirks like a gambler flipping cards. Shock Absorption. Hardening. Overclock. Jet. Springlike Limbs.
All loaded. All waiting.
Because when Void Chain shows up, you don't fight smart. You fight fast.
A shadow flickers three rooftops away. Humanoid shape. Broad shoulders, glitched edges, like someone spliced a person into broken VR footage. His presence twists the air, folding light inward like a miniature black hole is wearing a trench coat and bad intentions.
Rai sees it too. His gravity flares hard enough to make the pavement whimper, anchoring himself like a nail driven through reality.
And me?
I just smile.
Because I've waited for this.
"Long time no see, Chain."
The figure steps forward, void-bleed still leaking off his outline, and that voice — dry, surgical, emotionless.
"Kael Arashi. The Bureau's favorite mistake."
He lifts a hand, fingers curling like he's holding an invisible trigger. Space around me tightens, pressure blooming in my chest like a vice made out of collapsing stars.
If I wasn't already cheating the laws of physics, I'd probably be spaghetti by now.
But I am.
New Order's still active. My body ignores gravitational effects. For the next twelve seconds, I'm untouchable.
His quirk skates along the edge of that rule, trying to hook onto me, the air buzzing as space folds in on itself. Close. Too close.
I slam my heel down, the stored Fa Jin energy launching me sideways so hard the ground explodes behind me. My afterimage gets erased mid-frame.
That would've been me.
Void Chain lowers his hand, unimpressed.
"Stalling won't change the outcome."
"Neither will monologuing," I snap back, even as my brain races to stack the next move.
I flick open my comms. No signal. Figures. Chain's proximity field probably ate the radio waves.
Rai moves first. Of course he does. Gravity crushes downward in a spearhead, aiming for Chain's chest, trying to lock his mass into a singularity burst before he can react.
For a fraction of a heartbeat, it almost works.
Then space folds. The gravity spear gets blinked out of existence, like the concept of 'weight' was deleted from that cubic meter of reality.
Chain's ability isn't just black holes. It's control over the absence of space itself. He doesn't bend the world — he cuts it out.
And the scary part? He's not even trying yet.
I roll my neck, stretching my arms once, twice. Calm. Loose. Because panic gets you killed, but attitude buys you time.
New Order: 'My punches ignore distance.'
The moment the rule locks in, I step forward. Just once. One slow, casual step.
My fist, however, doesn't wait.
It's already connecting with Chain's jaw from ten meters away.
The impact sends him skidding back, void-bleed flickering wild like a broken glitch sprite.
Rai doesn't hesitate. He follows up with a localized gravity crush, this time set to the density of a neutron star.
Chain blinks — not from pain, but recalculation. Reality warps around him as the air collapses, bending space like a funhouse mirror caught between two black holes.
I can feel the rules straining. My own quirk, New Order, fighting against his spatial deletion like two programmers arguing over who gets admin rights to the universe.
But this isn't about winning. Not yet.
It's about surviving long enough to stack the deck in my favor.
And the longer I stand here, the more energy I'm storing.
Fa Jin. Impact Recoil. Springlike Limbs. All primed. All coiling like a bomb waiting for the right moment to explode.
Because the second Chain overcommits?
That's when I break him.
The thing about fights with Void Chain?
They're not about who hits harder. They're about who blinks first.
And spoiler alert: I don't blink.
Right now, the air's packed so tight with pressure distortions that breathing feels like trying to inhale broken glass. Rai's gravity crush is still anchoring the battlefield, locking everything into a compressed zone the size of a convenience store, but Chain just stands there like physics forgot to apply.
His quirk's cutting chunks out of the world, little bites of space glitching out, one centimeter at a time. His game is deletion — remove the space between you and him, and boom, you're gone. Doesn't matter how strong, fast, or immortal you think you are. If there's no space to exist, there's no you.
But here's the trick.
I'm not in the mood to be erased today.
New Order: 'My existence cannot be deleted.'
Simple. Brutal. Dangerous. My head throbs the second the rule locks in, like I just installed malware into my own brain. Reality doesn't like getting rewritten on the fly, especially not around a guy like Chain, but I can handle the feedback loop.
For now.
Chain's head tilts, his voice cutting through the warping static like dry ice on glass.
"You're rewriting the board again."
"Gotta keep the audience entertained," I shoot back, flexing my fingers. Stored tension from Springlike Limbs prickles through every joint like loaded steel cables. My whole body's wound up, one twitch away from launching enough kinetic force to crater a battleship.
And I'm not alone.
Rai flares gravity in sharp pulses — a Morse code pattern we cooked up back in the Bureau days. Translation? Get ready. Combo strike incoming.
I shift into Breakstep Form, tapping Gearshift, Jet, Fa Jin, and Overclock all at once. The world slows to a syrupy crawl, each microsecond stretching like a full minute in my brain.
I move.
One step, two steps, then I vanish from human perception, streaking past Chain's left blind spot. The moment I circle back, Rai triggers the gravity reversal.
The force snaps Chain upward, slamming him into the air like a flyswatter made of collapsed stars.
That's my cue.
Stored Kinetic Energy: RELEASED.
I punch.
Not at Chain — at the air itself. The shockwave rips through the compressed space like a railgun round made of atmosphere, slamming into him midair, right before the gravity field crushes inward again.
Double-hit combo. Newton himself would crawl out of his grave just to high-five me.
The explosion ripples through the skyline, windows detonating for blocks, the pressure wave flattening three parked cars on a nearby street.
When the dust clears, Chain's still standing. Bruised. Glitched. But standing.
Of course he is. The guy cheats death like it owes him money.
But something's different. His quirk field — the deletion radius — is flickering. Weakening.
Which means we're finally getting through.
"You're stalling," Chain says, voice as flat as his expression. "Why?"
I crack my knuckles, grinning like I've got an ace up my sleeve. (Spoiler: I do.)
"Because I was waiting for the charge to max out."
His head tilts half a degree, calculating the bluff.
Too late.
The ground under me erupts as I trigger the final stack:
Fa Jin — MAX RELEASE.Impact Recoil — FULL TRANSFER.Springlike Limbs — COILED.Gearshift — HYPER MOMENTUM.Jet — IGNITION.
My entire body launches forward at near-relativistic speed, a human bullet wrapped in kinetic overkill. The shockwave from my launch hits before my fist does, tearing the rooftop apart like tissue paper.
Chain barely raises a hand before the hit lands.
This time, I don't pull the punch.
The force snaps through his deletion field, brute-forcing past the spatial deletion like a hammer through glass. The void energy shatters, the air implodes, and Chain gets launched halfway across the skyline like a ragdoll wrapped in a black hole.
The world pauses. My heartbeat slows.
And I land, skidding across the ruined pavement, smoke and debris trailing behind me like a reentry capsule coming back from orbit.
Rai's already landing beside me, gravity still flickering off his skin like heat haze.
"Tell me that was enough," he mutters.
I glance toward the crater Chain left in a demolished building three blocks away. Dust still settling. No movement.
For now.
But we both know it won't last.
It never does.
You ever get that feeling where you know the fight's not over — but your body's already screaming for the credits to roll?
Yeah. Welcome to my life.
Chain's out of sight, buried under half a building, and I can still feel his quirk trying to crawl back into reality. That deletion field of his doesn't shut off just because his face met my fist at Mach-God-Knows-What.
Rai drops onto a chunk of rebar like it's a park bench, his gravity field still twitching, his breathing sharp and controlled. Professional. Deadly. Just like old times.
"So." He finally speaks, eyes locked on the wreckage. "Think he's down?"
I tilt my head. My Overclock is still active, perception running laps around real time. And in that stretched-out quiet, I feel it.
That awful weight in the air, like the universe just hiccupped.
"He's rebooting," I mutter.
Because of course he is.
I flex my fists, kinetic energy from Impact Recoil still humming in my bones like a lit fuse. My quirk stack's fully loaded. All systems green. I could go another ten rounds.
But I won't get another ten rounds. Not against him.
Because the thing about Chain is... he learns. Fast.
The moment I see the rubble distort — space folding in on itself like a crumpled soda can — I'm already moving.
Jet ignition. Gearshift full throttle. Fa Jin uncoiled.
I rocket into the sky, the shockwave blowing the street apart under me. Springlike Limbs snap tension into my launch path, flipping my ascent into a spiral. The world spins, streaks of neon and crumbling concrete blurring past.
Rai's gravity slings me higher, timing it perfectly. Old habits die hard.
And midair, I set the rule.
New Order: "All stored force is converted into pure shockwave."
This is the part where most people would panic, falling from terminal velocity. Me? I'm the payload.
Craterfall Spiral is locked and loaded.
I dive.
The tension stored in my limbs, the kinetic energy stacked from Fa Jin, the backlash from Recoil — all of it surges outward. My descent isn't a fall. It's a declaration of war against the earth itself.
The impact hits.
The world breaks.
The shockwave erupts from the ground like a nuclear detonation, air pressure flipping cars, ripping the pavement off in sheets, and flattening the surrounding city block into a crater the size of a stadium.
The sound doesn't even catch up for a full second. When it does, it's not a boom. It's a bassline from hell.
And in the silence after?
No glitching. No void field. No Chain.
Just me. Standing in the center of a brand new landmark — the kind that doesn't show up on tourist maps.
Rai drifts down a moment later, boots scraping against the cracked concrete. His gaze sweeps the aftermath, slow and surgical.
"Overkill?" he asks.
"Just enough kill," I correct.
And I'd love to stand there, flexing and soaking in the moment, but reality has other plans. My head throbs, hard. New Order's aftershock rattling my brain like a bell. One rule too many. One flicker away from overloading.
But the mission's done. For now.
Rai gives me that sideways look — the one that always meant we need to talk but I'm not starting it here.
I already know the conversation. He'll ask why I'm pushing New Order this hard. Why I didn't hold back. Why I'm still out here running rogue instead of putting a Hero license back on my chest.
And the answer is the same as it always is.
I don't break the rules.
I replace them.