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—whole 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—there 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—“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—”
“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.”
.
.
.
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Nate pushed off the guardrail. Managed to stand.
Stretched. Painfully. Felt marginally better.
But he’d promised himself—no 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—city 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—destruction. 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—“You are not captured, Nathan. I guarantee it.”
“Thanks,” Nate breathed out. “That was reassuring.”
“Another thing—don’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—he 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—crushed 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—or heroine—who not only stopped time, restored crumbling buildings, roads, and cars to their original state… but also brought back the dead.”
“Never— and I mean never— 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—”
Nate sighed. Killed the TV. Darkness swallowed the room.
The whole world knew now.
That should’ve made him happy—proof 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—he’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—how? 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—mostly.
“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—slower, almost hurt—“…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—his smile faded.
He shouldn’t be.
One wrong move, and he was dead. His revenge—gone.
“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.
