The wind rolled gently across the rooftop of the convenience store, tugging at the edges of his new suit—a deep blue that shimmered faintly under the moonlight. Jace stood near the edge, one foot perched on the ledge, his gaze scanning the quiet streets below. The soft hum of the city at night was a comforting noise now. Familiar. Alive.

  The thin, domino-style mask clung to his face, obscuring just enough of his features. It didn’t hide him, not really. But it gave him something to become. A symbol. A persona. One the world had already named.

  VALIANT

  He exhaled slowly, his breath forming a small puff in the night air. The adrenaline from an enhanced mugger takedown had mostly worn off, but the weight of it still lingered in his limbs. The would-be criminal was now zip-tied and groaning in a neat pile behind the store, waiting for the authorities.

  He looked down at his hands—steady, strong, and in control. That hadn’t always been the case.

  There was a time when just gripping a doorknob too hard meant shattering it. When his strength terrified him more than it impressed anyone else. He’d gone from being the kid who nearly crushed a locker door by accident… to the young man who held up a collapsing bus with one hand and a single promise: “I’ve got you.”

  His mind drifted to the moment he stopped the attack at Pantheon Laboratories. The chaos. The fear. The flash of bodies and broken glass. That was one of his highs—a reckless, powerful stand against something far bigger than himself.

  And then there was Lucian.

  That cold room. That voice. That unbearable, shrill ringing in his skull that left him paralyzed and gasping. That was the low point. The moment he realized strength alone wasn’t enough. Not when cruelty could cut deeper than bone.

  But he made it through.

  After waking from the coma, it took months to regain the strength to even lift a water bottle, let alone crush reinforced steel. Physical therapy. Combat drills. Meditation. A thousand repetitions to rebuild what had been shattered. And Leo—damn Leo—never left his side.

  Life had resumed. Slowly. Unevenly. He and Leo were still tight, still joking around after school, still sneaking food from the back of the fridge when his mom wasn’t looking.

  But the world? The world had changed.

  The existence of enhanced individuals had become common knowledge. There were debates on the news daily. New laws were passed—some for protection, some for control. It was messy. Complicated. Real.

  The four criminals Jace had once spoken to in the CDE’s prison were now the first officially convicted enhanced individuals under the new legislative system. No more secret cells. No more quiet disappearances. Justice, whatever that now meant, was out in the open.

  He still wasn’t sure if he trusted it. But it was a start.

  Jace still pondering eyes fixed on the glowing skyline.

  A part of him still wondered what it had truly cost to win the war against Lucian. The world thought he’d just been another victim of Markyov’s schemes… but Jace knew better. He’d put The Maker in that coma. And while it had saved lives, it didn’t feel like victory—it felt like a fracture in his soul. One he might never fully mend.

  And Axel… if that unknown break-in hadn’t occurred, if whoever tore through that high-security lockbox hadn’t freed him—would Jace even be alive right now?

  How lucky am I really? he wondered. Or maybe it wasn’t luck. Maybe someone out there was pulling strings.

  He exhaled sharply and crouched low, the city lights flickering in his vision

  The wind shifted again, carrying the sounds of sirens in the far distance. He smiled faintly. There’d always be something next. A fight. A choice. A call for help.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  But he wasn’t the same scared kid who didn’t know what he was fighting for.

  Not anymore.

  He stood tall on that rooftop, the city lights behind him and the stars overhead.

  He had finally found the answer to the question that haunted him since it all began:

  Who is a hero ?

  A hero is someone who steps up when no one else will, even when they’re terrified, even when they know the odds are stacked against them. It’s not about being fearless—it’s about acting despite the fear. Real heroes feel fear, but they don’t let it paralyze them. They see what needs to be done, and they do it, no matter the cost.

  It’s not always about saving the world or fighting the bad guy. Sometimes it’s just about helping one person, making one small choice that makes someone else’s life better. It’s the guy who stops to help a stranger, the girl who stands up to a bully, the person who puts others before themselves when they don’t have to.

  Jace smiled to himself as he turned away from the ledge.

  And then he leapt into the night.

  The night air tore past his suit as he soared through the city, each rooftop a fleeting step beneath his feet. The moon bathed the skyline in silver as he angled toward the outskirts—where sirens wailed and tires screeched in the distance.

  A police chase was barreling down an open road, a black sedan swerving wildly to evade the patrol cars behind it.

  Jace smiled, a familiar warmth creeping up his chest.

  A car chase. That’s how it had all started.

  He dropped low, landing with a powerful thud just ahead of the speeding vehicle. As the car neared, he waited, then stepped forward, catching the bumper with one hand. His boots dug into the road. The tires screamed. The back of the car lifted off the ground, spinning uselessly in mid-air.

  This time, there was no ripping metal. No shattered frame. Just control.

  The car came to a groaning stop, perfectly intact.

  Inside, the driver and passenger exchanged panicked glances—then bolted in opposite directions.

  Jace moved instantly.

  He picked up a loose piece of gravel, flicked it with a snap of his fingers—and it hit the fleeing driver square in the temple. The man collapsed like a sack of bricks.

  Jace turned to the second man, landing right in front of him.

  The thug pulled a gun, trembling as he aimed. “Back off—!”

  With a crunching sound, Jace’s hand closed around the weapon and flattened it like paper. A second later, he flicked the man in the forehead. The robber collapsed with a soft grunt, completely out cold.

  The police officers rushed up seconds later, cuffing the unconscious criminals and panting in awe.

  “Valiant,” one of them said, “you saved our asses.”

  Jace nodded, his usual quiet humility returning as he stepped back.

  He was just about to leap off again when the air suddenly shifted.

  A ethereal glow filled the sky. Something… someone was descending, their silhouette framed in radiant energy.

  The police shouted, drawing their weapons and fanning out, the tension snapping like a taut wire.

  Jace narrowed his eyes, instinctively lowering into a defensive stance. The figure descended slowly, armored in strange, ethereal plating that shimmered with a strange light. He was massive easily over seven feet tall and every inch of him radiated authority.

  But Jace didn’t strike. Something deep in his bones told him to wait. To listen.

  And then the figure spoke.

  His voice was calm, ancient, familiar. "Mantle of strength,” the man said. “You are summoned.”

  Jace’s eyes widened. That voice. He’d heard it before in the void. The one that whispered power into his veins.

  “Ischys…” Jace whispered. The deity smiled. “Yes. I am he. Ischys, Deity of might.”

  Jace stepped closer, cautious but curious. “Summoned… for what?”

  The god looked toward the stars, eyes glowing like suns.

  “To the Synaxis,” he said. “An assembly of deities, gathered for one purpose: the survival of your world.”

  Jace stared, speechless

  "What the f-"