Nael snored, slumped over his desk. After forcing himself for an hour to follow the math lesson, he finally gave in to exhaustion. This class bored him to death.
During his nap, he drifted back into that absurd dream that kept coming again and again: a gigantic monstrous chicken with glowing red eyes was trying to destroy the city by laying enormous explosive eggs that rolled at full speed through the streets, crushing everything in their path. Buildings collapsed, people screamed, chaos reigned.
But Nael the Magnificent leapt through the air with superhuman agility. With a lightning-fast punch, he struck down the monstrous creature. The survivors cheered for him. Finally, he was someone. A real hero.
SMACK!
A massive slap on his back jolted him awake, tearing a groan of pain from his throat. The teacher, his face twisted with rage, glared at him with fury-filled eyes.
Without a word, he pointed toward the door.
Nael gathered his things in heavy silence, accompanied by the stifled snickers of his classmates. Again. Always the same scenario. Expelled. Sent to the principal's office. Detention.
Later, long after classes had ended, Nael was still there. Alone. On his knees in the school bathroom, scrub brush in hand, scrubbing the grimy tiles that reeked of urine and bleach.
This had become a routine lately. A pathetic routine.
He had lost all motivation. His childhood dream—becoming a hero, saving lives, accomplishing the impossible—had slowly crumbled, year after year. Powers normally manifested at the start of adolescence. Between eight and thirteen, fifteen percent of kids discovered they were special.
For him? Nothing. Never anything.
So he gave up. Out of despair. Out of resignation.
He threw the brush into the bucket with an angry gesture, letting the dirty water splash across the floor. What was the point of continuing to hope?
Pulling himself from his bitter thoughts, Nael let out a long sigh, slung his bag over his shoulder, and finally left campus. Night was falling over the city. Streetlights flickered on one by one, casting yellowish halos onto the sidewalks.
He hesitated to take a taxi—his wallet was nearly empty—then resigned himself to walking home. The journey would be long, but what else did he have to do?
As he walked, he passed enormous superhero posters plastered on building facades. Smiling faces, confident, perfect. Heroic slogans: "Together, we protect the future." "Your safety, our mission."
Each poster was like an invisible needle piercing his heart.
"Damn it..." he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice heavy with anger and bitterness. "What the hell more did I need to inherit these damn powers?"
He clenched his fists, tears threatening to spill. But he swallowed them back. Crying was pointless.
Suddenly, sirens wailed in the distance.
Nael stopped dead. Black smoke rose a few blocks away, climbing toward the sky like a venomous serpent. Screams rang out.
People burst from an intersection, running in all directions, their faces marked by terror.
Before he could understand what was happening, a charred police car flew through the air with a screech of twisted metal and crashed two meters from him. The impact was so violent the ground shook beneath his feet.
Nael fell hard onto the sidewalk, breath knocked from his lungs. His ears rang. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum.
"Move. MOVE!"
Gathering what little courage he had left, he struggled to his feet and started running. The biggest sprint of his life. His legs barely carried him. Adrenaline made his whole body shake.
He ducked into a narrow alley and pressed his back against a brick wall, gasping for air, lungs burning, heart ready to explode.
Around him, chaos continued. Explosions. Screams. The distant crackling of flames.
The blasts were getting closer. Closer. And closer.
Nael closed his eyes, praying to the heavens with all his strength, trembling from head to toe. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He had never been this terrified in his entire life.
BOOOM.
An explosion more violent than the others erupted just in front of him, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. When he reopened his eyes, coughing, a silhouette stood there, just a few meters away.
The villain.
A man with a repulsive appearance. Tall, gaunt, his face twisted into a crooked smile. His clothes were torn, stained with blood. But the worst part was his gaze. Empty of all humanity. Mad. Sick.
He radiated pure insanity.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the alley. Police officers rushed in, weapons drawn, and immediately surrounded the criminal.
"Freeze! Hands on your head! Don't move!" they shouted in unison, their voices trembling despite their training.
The villain didn't move. Then, slowly, he raised his hands in a theatrical gesture. For a moment, Nael thought he was going to surrender.
But the villain's smile widened.
With terrifying calm, he plunged his fingers into his nostrils and pulled out two enormous greenish, slimy boogers. Without hesitation, he hurled them at the nearest officer.
"That's disgusting!" the officer screamed, his face twisted in revulsion.
The villain tilted his head to the side, like a curious animal. His smile turned demonic. Then he snapped his fingers.
A strange rumbling split the air.
BOOOOOM.
The next instant, the officer literally exploded. His limbs and entrails scattered throughout the alley with a wet, unbearable sound. Chunks of flesh rained down everywhere, splattering the walls, the ground, the other officers.
Nael felt his sanity waver. His legs gave out beneath him. A humiliating warmth spread through his pants. Without even realizing it, he had wet himself in terror.
The other officers were thrown several meters back by the blast. Some didn't get up.
Nael couldn't breathe anymore. His throat was squeezed in a vise. His hands trembled violently. His mind screamed at him to flee, but his body refused to move.
The villain hadn't noticed him yet. He was slowly advancing toward the survivors crawling to escape.
"I'm going to die here. I'm going to die without ever having accomplished anything. Without ever having been someone."
Suddenly, two silhouettes dropped from the sky.
Heroes.
Hope rekindled in Nael's heart, fragile but real.
One of them, dressed in a red and black suit, landed with tremendous force in front of the villain. Without wasting a second, he launched himself at incredible speed—so fast he was nothing but a blur—and unleashed a flurry of blows so rapid they became invisible to the naked eye.
Each strike resonated like cannon fire. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM.
The villain crashed to the ground with a dull thud, covered in blood, his face bruised and swollen. The hero grabbed him by the collar and lifted him with one hand.
"So? Not so tough now, huh?" he taunted arrogantly.
But something was wrong.
The villain was still smiling.
Nael then saw the object in his hand. A small viscous ball, almost organic.
Before anyone could react, the villain calmly placed the object against the hero's arm. Then he broke free with a sharp movement and rolled away, putting distance between them.
"Boom," he whispered with delight.
BOOOOOM.
The explosion was devastating. The hero was thrown more than thirty meters backward, crashing through a brick wall that collapsed on top of him. His left arm and part of his side were torn away in the blast. Blood gushed in fountains. His screams of agony tore through the air.
Nael felt his stomach turn. He bent over and vomited on the ground, unable to hold it back.
He understood then a terrifying truth that shattered everything he had believed:
Even heroes could die.
Hidden in the shadows, huddled against the wall, thousands of questions swirled through his mind, clouded by fear. Being a hero was this dangerous? This deadly? Maybe never receiving powers had been a blessing in disguise... Maybe he had been lucky, after all.
Without meaning to, unable to hold it back, Nael sneezed.
The sound echoed through the alley like a gunshot.
The villain immediately turned around. His empty gaze landed directly on him.
Nael froze, every muscle paralyzed by terror.
The last hero still standing—a woman with short hair and determined eyes—also looked in his direction.
The villain burst into demented laughter that froze Nael's blood.
"Did you film everything, you coward?" he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Did you film how heroes get killed like insects? They brag about saving lives when they can't even save themselves!"
He spat on the ground with contempt.
"And to prove it to you, I'm going to kill you right here. And her... she'll only be able to watch you die live."
The villain started running toward him. Not fast. Slowly. Like a predator toying with its prey.
Nael trembled like a leaf. His legs refused to move. But the fear of death was stronger than paralysis.
He somehow got to his feet and ran desperately toward the heroine, arms outstretched like a child seeking his mother.
She reacted instantly. She placed her hand on his shoulder.
In an instant, the world blurred. Nael felt his stomach flip. When his vision cleared, he was twenty meters away, at the other end of the alley.
Before he could even speak, the heroine was already at his side, breathless but focused.
"My name is Noël," she said quickly, catching her breath. "My power has conditions. I have to physically touch what I want to move to 'mark' it. After that, I can teleport it anywhere within my line of sight. But without prior contact, I can't do anything."
She looked him straight in the eyes. Her gaze was intense, almost pleading.
"I need your help. If I approach him without a plan, I'll die. He's too unpredictable. While I distract him in close combat, I need you to grab him from behind—just for a few seconds—so I can touch him and mark him. Then I can teleport him far away or into a trap."
She paused.
"Do you think you can do it?"
Nael hesitated. His heart was racing. His hands were shaking. He wasn't a hero. He was just a pathetic high schooler who cleaned toilets.
But he thought of the dead police officers. The gravely wounded hero. All those who would die if no one acted.
He nodded, his throat tight.
"I... I'll do my best."
Noël gave a slight smile, almost sad.
"Today, you'll be a hero, Nael."
She quickly touched the brick wall next to them, then charged straight at the villain without waiting for a response.
Blows were exchanged in a violent, chaotic ballet. Noël was fast, agile, precise. She attacked, dodged, retreated, chained feints together. But the villain was unpredictable. Every movement could be lethal.
Meanwhile, Nael crept along the opposite wall, his body pressed against the cold bricks. Each step seemed to last an eternity. His heart pounded so loudly he feared the villain might hear it.
"Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me."
Suddenly, Noël kicked the villain in the face with a spinning kick. He staggered slightly backward, distracted for a fraction of a second.
It was now or never.
Nael took a deep breath, gathered all his courage, and dove forward.
He grabbed the villain's legs with all his strength and pulled violently. The criminal crashed to the ground with a grunt of surprise.
For a moment, Nael thought they had succeeded.
But the villain turned around, his face twisted with pure, animal rage. His crazed eyes locked onto Nael's.
"You little shit... YOU DARED TOUCH ME?!"
He placed his hand directly on Nael's abdomen.
Time seemed to slow down. Nael saw the villain's demented smile. He felt the strange heat emanating from his palm.
Then it was hell.
BOOOOOM.
A sound of terrifying violence split the air. Nael was thrown backward like a rag doll. His back slammed violently against the brick wall. A sinister crack resonated through his body.
Pain exploded.
His abdomen was perforated. A gaping hole pierced through his stomach. He could see through it. Blood—his blood—gushed out in jerky spurts, warm, thick, viscous.
Nael collapsed into a crimson pool that rapidly widened around him. The liquid flowed slowly along the alley, drawing dark rivers between the cobblestones.
He couldn't breathe anymore. Each breath was torture. Each heartbeat sent a new wave of unbearable pain.
In the distance, through his blurring vision, he vaguely made out the villain being thrown into the air by Noël and crashing violently against a wall. They had succeeded. The criminal wasn't moving anymore.
Victory.
But at what cost?
Cold was taking over his body, slowly climbing from his feet toward his chest. His fingers were going numb. His heart was beating slower and slower. Weaker and weaker.
His eyelids were growing heavy. So heavy. He just wanted to sleep. Just a little.
He could barely hear Noël screaming his name in the distance. Her voice seemed to come from another world.
"At least... I was a hero once in my life."
A weak smile stretched across his bloodied lips.
Then nothing.
His heart stopped.
Silence.
Darkness.
Absolute nothingness.
But somewhere, in the depths of that nothingness, something stirred.
A spark.
A heartbeat.
A breath.
It was the beginning of something of indescribable magnitude...