As Noir hovered in the air, staring down at Almighty, his thoughts ran wild.
Hmm… which villain should I copy?
Joker's chaos is tempting… Thanos has presence… maybe a little theatrics from everywhere?
Why choose just one?
If this world had never known stories, then he'd become their first legend—a Frankenstein of madness, charisma, and menace.
Noir straightened midair, then suddenly bowed exaggeratedly, cape fluttering like a stage curtain.
"Oh hello…" he said, voice distorted yet playful, echoing across the streets.
"I have met the one who proclaims himself—Almighty!"
The crowd below erupted. Phones rose instantly. Live streams exploded.
Almighty clenched his fists. "You think this is a joke?"
Noir slowly raised his head, the Asura mask's eyes glowing faintly.
"A joke?" he repeated, amused. "No, no, no. This is an introduction."
He drifted closer, invisible force keeping him aloft.
"You heroes love titles," Noir continued. "Rankings. Numbers. Brand value. Tell me, Almighty—does your power come from your strength… or from how many people believe you're strong?"
Almighty scoffed. "Belief doesn't matter. Power is power."
Noir laughed softly. Not loud. Not insane. Just enough to make people uneasy.
"Oh… you're going to hate what comes next."
The air around Noir shuddered.
Streetlights bent slightly. Loose debris trembled. Cars rattled—not crashing, not harming anyone, just enough to make the illusion convincing.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Telekinesis.
Real or not, no one could tell.
"No civilians," Noir announced casually, glancing down. "Don't worry. I'm not here for them."
Then his gaze snapped back to Almighty.
"I'm here for you."
The city watched as the distance between hero and villain closed.
And somewhere deep in the collective mind of the world, something dangerous began to take root—
Belief.
With everyone watching, a single thought echoed in their minds—shared, unspoken, unanimous.
THIS isn't like the others.
This isn't some costumed criminal chasing fame.
This one feels real.
Not a brand.
Not a sponsored menace.
Not a staged disaster for ratings.
Something else.
Something dangerous.
As that collective realization spread, Noir slowly raised one hand. Calm. Casual. Almost lazy.
He pointed at Almighty.
"Give them a good show, hero."
And then—
BOOM.
An invisible force slammed into Almighty's chest.
The number 30 hero was sent flying backward like a ragdoll, shattering through concrete barriers and skidding across the street before crashing into a building façade. Glass rained down—but not onto civilians. The force curved, precise, controlled.
Silence.
Then screams.
Then chaos.
Almighty coughed, struggling to rise, disbelief plastered across his face.
"I— I didn't see it—" he muttered.
Noir floated downward slightly, boots never touching the ground.
"Strange, isn't it?" Noir said, tilting his head. "No explosion. No flash. No impact you can block."
He spread his arms theatrically.
"And yet… you flew."
The crowd trembled—not from fear alone, but awe.
Heroes watching from afar stiffened.
Villains watching from hiding frowned.
Analysts stared at their screens, hands shaking.
"This isn't brute strength," one whispered.
"This isn't energy projection."
"This looks like—"
"Telekinesis," someone finished.
Noir's mask turned toward the cameras.
"Let this be clear," he announced, voice carrying effortlessly. "I'm not here to hurt civilians."
He glanced briefly at the panicking crowd, then back to Almighty.
"I'm here to expose frauds."
He lowered his hand.
"And this?" he added softly.
"This is just the opening act."
Above the city, belief surged.
Noir's voice dropped, no longer playful, no longer theatrical.
"Now let this be a reminder," he said slowly, every word pressing down on the city like weight.
"And a warning…"
The Asura mask faced Almighty, unmoving.
"I AM THE LAW."
The moment the words left his mouth, the air screamed.
An overwhelming surge of invisible force erupted—not wild, not chaotic, but deliberate. The building beside Almighty groaned, steel bending like paper, concrete cracking as if it were clay in unseen hands.
"No—!" Almighty barely had time to react.
The structure collapsed inward, slabs of reinforced concrete slamming down and burying him in a controlled avalanche. The debris curved unnaturally, sealing him in without crushing vital areas—brutal, precise, merciless.
The ground shook.
Dust filled the air.
When it settled, Almighty was gone from sight, pinned beneath tons of rubble, alive—but utterly broken. Bones shattered. Muscles torn. A hero who wouldn't be standing for months.
Silence fell over the city.
No cheers.
No screams.
Only stunned, horrified awe.
Heroes watching through drones froze.
Villains hiding in alleys swallowed hard.
This wasn't random destruction.
This was judgment.
Noir slowly turned, cape fluttering as he rose back into the air.
"Remember this day," he said calmly, his voice echoing across every hacked screen, every live broadcast. "Remember who stood here."
He looked down once more at the civilians.
"You were never my enemy."
Then his gaze lifted—to the skyline, to the watching heroes, to the entire world.
"They were."
The air distorted.
And just like that, Noir vanished—leaving behind a ruined street, a fallen hero, and a world that had just learned a terrifying truth:
This wasn't a villain playing games.
This was someone rewriting the rules.
An hour later, the world was on fire.
Every news channel replayed the same footage from a hundred angles. Slow motion. Enhanced audio. Shaky phone recordings. Hero Association emergency crawlers running nonstop.
TOP SEARCH TREND — NOIR
UNREGISTERED VILLAIN HUMILIATES RANK 30 HERO
TELEKINESIS CONFIRMED?
IS THIS THE STRONGEST VILLAIN YET?
Forums exploded. Social media fractured into factions.
He's real.
That wasn't staged.
Did you see the building bend first?
He spared civilians.
He crippled a hero.
Fear and admiration mixed into something far more dangerous.
Belief.
---
Back in his rundown apartment, Kade was sprawled across his chair, feet on the desk, black armor already dismissed and replaced with cheap clothes.
He stared at the screen, eyes glued to the chaos he had created.
Then he burst out laughing.
"HAHA—holy shit," he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "I really did it. I made a mess."
He scrolled through comments, clips, breakdown videos.
"They're calling emergency meetings… profiling me… tracing me…" he snorted. "Wow, guys, took you long enough."
On another tab, Hero Association alerts flashed red.
ALL HEROES ON HIGH ALERT
NOIR: EXTREME THREAT CLASSIFICATION
Kade leaned back, grin widening.
"Now they're trying to hunt me."
He glanced at the laptop—the supercomputer humming softly, Jarvis running in the background, tracking belief metrics, trend spikes, rumor density.
The numbers were climbing.
Fast.
Kade cracked his knuckles.
"Good," he said casually. "That means you believe."
And somewhere deep within his power, creation waited—hungry, patient, and growing stronger by the second.
Kade leaned forward, elbows on the desk, eyes gleaming as he stared at the numbers scrolling across the screen.
"Alright… next problem," he muttered. "Budget."
Villainy wasn't cheap. Infrastructure, misdirection, preparation—if he was going to keep Noir alive as an idea, he needed resources. A lot of them. And stealing banks outright was messy, loud, and inefficient.
He snapped his fingers.
"…Right. Belief first. Money second."
Within minutes, the internet shifted again.
New rumors surfaced—quiet at first, then louder, spreading like an infection no one could trace.
> Did you check your balance?
I swear I lost a dollar.
Same here.
It's nothing… right?
Then the stories escalated.
BREAKING THREAD:
NOIR ALLEGEDLY STEALING $1 FROM EVERY ACCOUNT WORLDWIDE
Panic followed confusion.
People checked their bank apps. Some laughed it off. Some shrugged. Some swore they were missing a dollar, maybe two.
But when millions of people checked at once?
That's when belief ignited.
On encrypted forums and shady finance boards, a single theory dominated:
> He's not robbing banks.
He's robbing everyone.
Behind the scenes, invisible transactions flowed—tiny, harmless on their own. One dollar here. One dollar there. No alarms. No overdrafts. No clear breach.
Just… gone.
All of it redirected into an anonymous, untraceable account that didn't officially exist.
Back in his apartment, Kade watched the total climb.
Millions.
Tens of millions.
Then more.
He whistled softly.
"Wow… one dollar really adds up, huh?"
Jarvis chimed in with a neutral tone.
[Funds secured. No trace detected. Public belief index rising sharply.]
Kade laughed again, shaking his head.
"They'll never forgive me for this," he said cheerfully. "You can forgive explosions. You can forgive speeches."
He looked at the screen, eyes sharp.
"But nobody forgives missing money."
He leaned back, hands behind his head.
"And just like that," he murmured, "Noir isn't just a threat anymore."
He smiled.
"I'm an economic concept."
Outside, the world argued, panicked, denied, and believed.
And with every missing dollar, Noir became more real.
Kade stretched and glanced at the clock.
"…Right. School."
The thought alone was almost funny now.
"I guess I'm going back tomorrow," he muttered. "Gotta stay low-key. Same old E-class trash everyone loves to step on."
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as the glow of the monitor reflected in his eyes.
Belief was coming in. Slowly, steadily—but not explosively. Noir was feared, sure, but fear alone wasn't enough. He needed scale. Presence. Omnipresence.
"One Noir isn't enough," he said quietly.
His thoughts raced.
What do people fear more than a powerful villain?
A villain who's everywhere.
His eyes widened.
"…That's it."
Avatar creation.
Not clones. Not bodies he had to fully control. But independent projections, each with parallel thinking—extensions of his will, not burdens on his mind. Separate processing, shared intent.
"So I don't get overwhelmed," he nodded. "Smart. Very smart."
If people believed Noir could appear anywhere…
If they believed he had many bodies…
If they believed he was watching everything…
Belief would surge.
Hard.
Jarvis' interface flickered, calculations spinning.
[Concept viable. Public speculation already forming about 'multiple Noirs.']
Kade grinned.
"Of course it is."
He stood up, stretching once more.
"Alright then. Tomorrow I play the nobody. The punching bag. The invisible student."
He looked back at the screen, at the city map dotted with digital eyes and data streams.
"And at night?"
His smile sharpened.
"I become legion."
Somewhere out there, people whispered Noir's name in fear, anger, awe—and soon, confusion.
And confusion was fertile ground for belief.
Kade's fingers drummed slowly against the desk.
"Omnipresent…" he murmured. "Yeah. That's the word."
Heroes in this world sold hope. Villains sold fear. But what if he controlled both?
If people believed Noir was everywhere—watching, listening, judging—then fear would follow naturally. But fear alone always created resistance. Rebellion. Desperation.
He needed balance.
He needed hope.
"…Heh," Kade chuckled softly. "This world is gonna hate me for this."
If Noir was the darkness, then he'd simply create the light.
An avatar. A hero. Someone spotless. Someone inspiring. Someone that appeared just in time, every time. A symbol people could cling to when Noir loomed too close.
A hero born from belief.
A hero who opposed Noir.
"And since I'm 'everywhere'…" Kade continued, eyes gleaming, "then both sides existing at once makes sense."
Rumors were easy to seed.
> Noir appears everywhere.
Noir vanished, but someone else saved us.
A new hero stopped a disaster before it happened.
He didn't even need a full appearance at first. Just whispers. Just footage. Just coincidences.
Belief would fill in the gaps.
Jarvis responded calmly.
[Dual-identity belief model predicted to amplify public engagement by 217%.]
Kade laughed.
"Of course it would."
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling again.
"Heroes think they own hope," he said. "Villains think they own fear."
His smile widened.
"I'll own the story."
If Noir was everywhere, then resistance was meaningless.
And if a new hero rose—one tied to miracles, rescues, and impossible timing—
Then belief wouldn't just surge.
It would explode.
Somewhere in the city, people slept unaware.
Tomorrow, they'd wake up believing in a savior.
And they'd never realize…
He was just another mask.
Kade burst out laughing, the idea hitting him harder than any punch he'd taken at school.
"Clark Kent and Superman?" he snorted. "HAHAHAHA—yeah, they won't even see it coming."
He wiped his eyes, still chuckling.
"I'll be the most obvious nobody in the room," he said. "Weak. Broke. E-class trash. The kind of guy people forget the moment they look away."
And then—
He'd be Noir.
And also… something else.
"A hero that clashes with Noir," Kade mused, eyes sparkling. "Light versus dark. Hope versus judgment. The public eats that kind of stuff up."
He imagined it vividly.
Noir descending like a nightmare.
A new hero arriving just in time.
Two titans clashing in the sky while the world watched, argued, believed.
"They'll argue about who's stronger. Who's right. Who's lying," he grinned. "Forums, debates, conspiracy theories—oh this is gold."
The best part?
"They'll never suspect the quiet kid sitting in class tomorrow."
He leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"I don't even need to win every fight," he continued. "If the hero struggles, bleeds, gets back up—hope skyrockets."
Belief in the hero.
Belief in Noir.
Belief everywhere.
Jarvis' interface flickered again.
[Dual-identity conflict simulation indicates exponential belief feedback loop.]
Kade snapped his fingers.
"Exactly. Conflict fuels faith."
He stood up, stretching, already picturing the design of the new avatar—colors, posture, presence. A silhouette that screamed reassurance instead of dread.
"Alright," he said softly. "Tomorrow I'm Kade. Nobody. E-class trash."
His smile sharpened.
"At night?"
"I become the villain… and the hero."
Outside, the city slept.
Unaware that its savior and its doom were about to shake hands...
Inside the same mind.
Kade clapped his hands together once.
"Alright," he said decisively. "Let's do it now."
If Noir was terror, then the hero had to be a miracle. Not a slow reveal. Not rumors first.
A sudden, impossible, world-spanning event.
"A hero flying across the entire globe," he muttered. "Seen by satellites. Caught on planes. Tracked by radars."
Something no one could deny.
He leaned back and started ticking things off in his head.
"Powers…"
"Super strength—obviously."
"Flight—non-negotiable."
"Invulnerability… but not absolute, gotta keep it believable."
"Laser vision—classic, flashy, easy to understand."
He paused.
"…Yeah, same old stuff," he admitted with a grin. "But classics work for a reason."
The look, though—that needed tweaking.
"Cape?" he nodded. "People love capes."
"Blue and red?" he frowned. "Too on the nose."
He adjusted the image in his mind.
Deep navy instead of bright blue.
Crimson accents instead of red—subtle, dignified.
A symbol on the chest—not an S, not anything recognizable. Something simple. Something abstract. A mark of hope, not a brand.
"Clean. Iconic. Non-threatening," Kade said. "Someone parents wouldn't be afraid to show their kids."
He closed his eyes.
Belief was already primed.
People believed Noir could do anything.
People believed miracles were overdue.
"That's enough," he whispered.
The air shifted.
Far above the clouds, something appeared.
Not dropping in.
Not teleporting.
Flying.
Across oceans. Over continents. Faster than sound but slow enough to be seen—by satellites, by pilots, by night-shift workers staring out airplane windows.
A streak of light wrapped in blue and crimson.
Newsrooms went insane.
UNIDENTIFIED FLYING ENTITY DETECTED WORLDWIDE
GLOBAL RADAR TRACKS SINGLE OBJECT CIRCUMNAVIGATING EARTH
IS THIS A HERO?
Back in his apartment, Kade watched live feeds explode one after another.
He smiled.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he murmured, eyes glowing with excitement, "meet your miracle."
Somewhere over the planet, the flying figure slowed, hovering high above a sleeping city—arms crossed, cape flowing gently in the wind.
A calm, steady presence.
Hope made flesh.
And just like that, the world gained a hero ...
Unaware that he was born from the same mind as its greatest villain.
Kade burst out laughing, nearly falling out of his chair.
"HAHAHAHA—everyone, meet Hyperman," he said proudly.
"A totally original hero. Absolutely not a knockoff. Nope. Not at all."
On-screen, the flying figure finally slowed and descended—just enough to be seen clearly. Cameras zoomed in. Satellites locked on.
A tall figure hovered in the sky, cape flowing like a banner of reassurance. No menace. No intimidation. Just calm.
Across the world, something strange happened.
A collapsing bridge in a coastal city—
Before it could fall, a blue-and-crimson blur appeared beneath it, lifting thousands of tons like it weighed nothing.
A burning hospital—
Windows shattered, flames roaring—then suddenly gone, smothered by a shockwave of displaced air as Hyperman moved faster than sound, pulling patients out one by one.
A hijacked train—
The engine vanished mid-derail, reappearing safely on an empty track miles away, Hyperman standing at the front like a guardian statue.
Everywhere.
Everywhere at once.
Phones recorded. Drones followed. News anchors screamed into microphones.
BREAKING: NEW HERO SAVES THOUSANDS WORLDWIDE
"HYPERMAN" TRENDING #1 IN EVERY REGION
ANTI-NOIR? OR SOMETHING ELSE?
Back in his apartment, Kade watched it all unfold, laughter slowly fading into a satisfied grin.
"Oh this is beautiful," he whispered. "Look at them."
People cried on camera.
Children waved at the sky.
Parents hugged strangers.
Hope surged like a tidal wave.
And belief?
Belief exploded.
Hyperman hovered above a city square at last, hands on his hips, cape rippling gently. He didn't speak. He didn't need to.
He simply nodded once to the crowd below—
—and vanished into the sky.
Kade leaned back, hands behind his head, eyes gleaming.
"Fear has a face now," he said softly. "And hope has one too."
He glanced at the belief metrics spiking off the charts.
"And both of them," he chuckled,
"are me."