The moment I pressed the button; two new panels appeared in front of me.
One offered the option to upgrade existing skills. The other allowed me to acquire new ones.
Interesting.
I tapped the upgrade panel first. A simple layout showed my current three abilities—super strength, speed, and durability—all set at a multiplier of 100x.
I could increase any of them to 200x with just one point.
Tempting... but I wasn't even using my full power yet. No point rushing that.
I backed out and tapped the new skill panel instead.
Four options appeared, floating neatly in front of me.
[Super Sense Lv.1 – Multiplies perception by 100]
[Super Resistance Lv.1 – Multiplies resistance to toxins, elemental damage, and abnormal statuses by 100]
[Super Magic Lv.1 – Multiplies innate magical potential by 100]
[Super Psychic Lv.1 – Multiplies psionic power and mental control by 100]
Each one required a single point to unlock. Each one would grant a 100x multiplier. But that was it—no further explanation, no detailed breakdown.
I studied the list.
Super Resistance, good to have, but my durability had held up just fine.
Super Magic? That probably worked like Kane's wind spells—versatile, but I had no idea how to use it.
Super Psychic might have been Emma's category. If her flame control was linked to mental manipulation, maybe that was how it worked.
But what I needed most now was awareness.
If I'd noticed the Giant Spinehound just a second sooner… maybe things would've ended differently.
I tapped [Super Sense].
[You have gained: Super Sense Lv.1 – Multiplies perception by 100]
Then it hit me.
The world didn't slow down—but it felt like I sped up.
The sound of a car passing outside became layered: the subtle groan of its suspension, the shift in air pressure as it cut through the street.
I could smell something frying. The crisp scent of soy sauce and garlic drifted through the air like I'd just stepped into the kitchen.
Every color, every edge of the room, sharpened.
The chipped paint on the wall. The flicker of dust in the sunlight. Wong's handwriting on the napkin holder by the counter—crooked but weirdly elegant.
"Here's your order, big bro. That'll be three ninety-nine," Wong said, sliding the plate across the counter.
I blinked and reached into my pocket, handing him four bucks without looking.
Then I looked at the plate.
Stir-fried chicken noodles. Four pieces of chicken—two more than usual. The sheen on the sauce caught the light like a food commercial. The scent hit me again. Soy, pepper, caramelized oil, and a hint of chili.
It was perfect.
I picked up the fork, took a bite—
—and the world stopped.
The noodles were tender, chewy, just the right amount of oily. The chicken was seared on the outside, juicy inside. The vegetables still had bite. The heat of the wok left this smoky whisper that clung to the back of my tongue.
It tasted like a home I never had.
By the time I looked down again, the bowl was empty.
I stepped outside, still dazed. The warmth of the pavement, the wind brushing past my skin—it all felt… realer.
I looked up. The sky was bluer than I remembered.
Birds circled above. Somewhere nearby, a squirrel darted between tree branches.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Then—
"YOU BITCH, WHY DID YOU SELL MY CAR?!"
The sharp bark of my neighbor's voice ripped through the serenity like a chainsaw.
I opened my eyes, sighed.
So, yeah. Bad things were easier to notice now too.
Still, it was worth it.
A motorcycle sped past the street. Same speed as always—but I could track every motion. Every flick of the handlebar, every subtle lean in the curve.
I wasn't seeing in slow motion. I was just seeing better.
Sharper. Cleaner. Controlled.
Welp. That's good enough for me.
I couldn't imagine living in actual slow motion. I'd have gone insane.
What now?
That thought hung in my mind like fog.
Then I saw it again—Emma's chest, split open. That jagged Spinehound blade ripping through her without warning. Her body hitting the ground.
I hadn't forgotten.
Heroes were supposed to fight for others, to put lives ahead of ego.
But what had I done?
Held back. Hid my power. Played it safe, like I was some important secret worth protecting.
I clenched my fist, the knuckles whitening.
I wasn't any better than those ranking-hungry heroes who only showed up when it made them look good.
If I hadn't hesitated… If I hadn't played it so damn cautiously…
Maybe Emma would still be alive.
Her death was on me.
No—on Kane, too. That smug bastard. I was going to find him. And when I did, he was going to answer for what he did.
I pulled out my cracked phone and scrolled past the system menu, straight to the mission board.
One more Gate today.
Each hero had a daily limit. For Rank E like me, that meant two missions max per day—part of the League's system to stop greedy ones from hoarding missions they might never show up for.
I picked the first available mission in Zone G.
Another Rank E Gate. No data. No team.
Didn't matter.
I didn't bother with the bus this time. I ran.
My speed carried me across streets, rooftops, through alleyways. The wind tore at my hair and shirt, the city blurring around me.
When I arrived, the place was empty.
No crowd. No other heroes waiting. Just the Gate—floating quietly in an abandoned parking lot.
I checked my phone again.
No one else had signed up.
Of course not.
Zone G had gone cold since yesterday's news. Electric Bee's death had shaken people.
She was known. Maybe a bit bratty, sure—but she was still a hero.
And if a Rank C like her could be taken out...
Most heroes were keeping their heads down, rerouting to safer zones—F, H.
But me?
I don't care.
And if the bastard behind it all turned out to be Kane...
Then I swear, I'll rip his spine out and mount it like a trophy!