Zane groaned, his head pounding like a war drum. His throat was dry, his body sore, and the bitter aftertaste of cheap ale clung to his tongue. He forced his eyes open, blinking against the dim light.
Where am I?
The Rusty Mug's tavern hall was empty. Chairs were overturned, the last candle burned to a stub. The air reeked of ale and old wood. The last thing he remembered was drinking with that strange old man… Heron.
Then—
A sudden, mechanical chime echoed inside his skull.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT]
Unique Awakening Detected!
Analyzing Host…
ERROR. ERROR. INCOMPLETE DATA.
HOST POSSESSES UNIDENTIFIED SEED.
PROCESSING… PROCESSING…
Zane clutched his head as foreign symbols and numbers flooded his vision, warping like a broken screen. A searing heat erupted in his chest, as if something ancient had been unshackled.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Welcome, User. You have been selected as the recipient of theBorderline Supervillain-Slash-Hero System.
[Awakening Process… Completed.]
You have inherited: [???]
Warning: The power is unstable. Further synchronization required.
A wave of cold, unnatural energy slithered through his veins. His breathing turned ragged. It felt like something was trying to crawl out from inside him.
He gasped, clutching his chest. "What… the hell… is happening to me?"
Then—
[Choose Your Path: Hero Skill or Villain Skill?]
The choice hovered in his mind. Hero or Villain.
Zane didn't even hesitate. "Hero Skill."
[Processing…]
Path Confirmed. Generating First Ability…]
A blinding light erupted from his chest, engulfing the room. His muscles tensed, his skin burned, and something ancient yet familiar settled within him.
[You have acquired: The Divine Radiance.]
An elemental Light-based skill that embodies purification and resilience.
Unlocked Abilities:
- Radiant Strike – A powerful palm attack infused with purifying light, capable of burning through darkness and corruption.
- Sacred Barrier – A defensive shield of light that absorbs incoming attacks and weakens enemy strikes.
- Luminous Step – Enhances movement speed and agility, leaving behind trails of light to confuse enemies.
Zane exhaled sharply. This power… It's real.
His hands trembled as golden light flickered around his fingers. The dull, broken version of himself—the one everyone had mocked, ignored, and cast aside—was fading away.
A slow grin spread across his face.
"Looks like my life just got a whole lot more interesting."
He wanted to test each skill immediately, but a nagging thought held him back. Using an ability without registration was illegal. Every awakened individual had to be approved by the World Hero Council before wielding their powers in public.
"My best choice is to head back to the branch station and request a retest as a late bloomer. I'd love to see the looks on their faces—the ones who ignored me, mocked me, and treated me like nothing."
With newfound purpose, he stood up and walked out of The Rusty Mug.
The morning sun greeted him with a golden glow. Squinting against the brightness, he raised a hand to shield his eyes and muttered with a smile, "Today… why does it feel like the sun is welcoming me?"
Zane glanced at his watch, his smile widening. "Already 8:30. The branch academy will be opening soon."
With pride in his step, he strode forward, retracing his path—but this time, as someone reborn.
Meanwhile…
A burly figure emerged from the tavern's shadow, his gaze following Zane's departing form toward the academy.
Pudge muttered, "He'll be fine… for now. That look on his face—I've seen it before. He thinks this power is a blessing."
His fingers clenched into fists.
"Sure, it's a great boon, a special gift. But soon, he'll realize that every great power comes with a weight… a colossal one. Because he won't just be strong—he's destined to save this world. And that responsibility? He'll never escape it."
He stood there silently, lost in thought.
The tavern doors creaked as a few patrons approached, but before they could step inside, Pudge barked, "We're closed today."
Slamming the doors shut, he flipped the sign to 'CLOSED' and leaned against the wooden frame, arms crossed.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"He's still the brat of that bastard Zorro. That old man Heron… why did you choose him? Still, I trust your judgment. You were my mentor, the most respectable man I've ever known."
His eyes glinted with resolve.
"I'll do everything to help this kid grow. Any powerhouse that dares bare their fangs at him—Pudge is ready to break those fangs and drink their venom."
At the Branch Academy
Zane reached the academy gates, his gaze locking onto the familiar figure standing guard.
It was the same man from yesterday—the one who had treated him like trash.
The guard smirked, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Well, look who's back? The infamous Lord Zane Carter, the reject who failed his awakening."
Zane didn't react. Didn't acknowledge him. He simply walked forward.
The guard's grin faltered as Zane moved past him like he didn't exist.
Irritated, he slammed his baton in front of Zane, blocking his path. "Not a step further. Go back, reject—you don't belong here."
Zane stopped, his cold gaze meeting the guard's. "Reject? Are you asking for a beating? Step aside, fool. There's no rule barring me from entering."
The guard scoffed. "Rules? Of course, I know the rules. But everyone in Wheeler Town knows—rules don't apply to the bastard son of a super-villain."
Zane didn't respond. He simply sidestepped and kept walking.
The guard's face twisted in fury.
Even though he was just a low-ranked Awakener, he still had power. Yet this so-called reject had just evaded him effortlessly—as if his existence was beneath notice.
That humiliation burned.
Snarling, he gripped his baton and swung it down—aiming straight for Zane's skull.
Too fast for a normal human.
But Zane was no longer normal.
His heightened senses kicked in, his body reacting before his mind even processed the attack. He ducked, his movements fluid, and in the same instant, lashed out with his leg.
CRACK!
The guard's body flew backward, crashing hard against the asphalt road. He groaned in pain, clutching his ribs.
Then—his expression twisted into one of malice.
"HELP! HELP! I'M UNDER ATTACK! SOME SCOUNDREL JUST TRIED TO KILL A GUARD!"
His voice echoed across the academy grounds.
Doors slammed open.
Footsteps thundered.
More guards and bystanders rushed toward the scene, their faces twisted in rage.
They hadn't seen what really happened. They had only heard the accusation.
And now, they were about to lynch the so-called villain.