The Hero Headquarters stood like a fortress at the heart of Akwaham, the most fortified nation among the twenty-eight that formed the world. From here, the balance of power was maintained.

  With threats rising across borders, the world’s defenders had been reorganized.

  Of the twenty-eight nations, eight were placed under the direct protection of the Rank One Hero—a responsibility so vast that no other hero could even come close to sharing its burden. The rest of the heroes were deployed across the remaining nations, forming rotating patrols and search units.

  At the center of it all stood Aqualis Veyrion.

  Even without lifting a finger, his presence alone was enough to keep the headquarters impenetrable.

  The God of Thunder, ranked second among all heroes, received his next assignment directly from command.

  “We move to a different nation,” he said calmly. “That’s where the search will continue.”

  Beside him stood the Rank Two Hundred Hero.

  He nodded. “Understood.”

  Their mission was simple in words—but dangerous in reality.

  They were to patrol together, moving through cities and borders, searching for traces of the villain who had triggered the global alert.

  They would depart the next morning.

  That night, the Rank Two Hundred Hero returned home.

  His wife noticed the tension the moment he stepped inside.

  He didn’t lie.

  He told her everything that had happened—the new deployment, the search operation, and the unexpected pairing with the God of Thunder.

  “I’ve delayed my retirement plans,” he said gently. “Just for now.”

  Concern flashed across her face, but he quickly reassured her.

  “I won’t be fighting,” he promised. “I’m only assisting. Observation, identification—nothing more. And I’ll be with the Rank Two Hero. I’ll be safe.”

  Reluctantly, she nodded.

  Before leaving, he knelt beside his daughter, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. She smiled, unaware of the weight behind the moment.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  With a final glance back, he stepped out—joining the God of Thunder as their journey began.

  Far from the light of the headquarters, darkness stirred.

  The Main Villain listened as reports reached him.

  “A global search party?” he said coldly. “Then someone must have led them to us.”

  His gaze shifted toward Dark Soul.

  “It must be the pest who cut my leg,” the villain continued. “He must have talked.”

  Dark Soul remained silent.

  “Find out who passed the information to the headquarters,” the villain ordered. “Someone reached them.”

  But Dark Soul was too powerful—too valuable—to move so openly.

  Instead, the villain turned to another subordinate.

  Sabrina.

  Her ability was terrifyingly versatile. She could transform her body using traits from different creatures—elephant tusks, rhino horns, monstrous limbs—combining them into a single horrific form at will.

  Her task was clear.

  Infiltrate. Identify. Extract information.

  Sabrina reached the outskirts of Akwaham quietly, but the moment she drew closer, her instincts screamed danger.

  The headquarters was heavily guarded.

  Worse—she could feel it.

  A presence so overwhelming it pressed against her senses like an ocean.

  Aqualis Veyrion was there.

  She decided to retreat.

  Too late.

  Water surged around her in an instant—forming a crushing sphere that sealed her movements completely.

  A Water Prison.

  She didn’t even see him.

  Within seconds, she was restrained, immobilized, and captured alive—before the public eye could even register what had happened.

  When the news reached the villain, fury erupted.

  He activated the device implanted within Sabrina—one designed to eliminate any subordinate captured alive.

  Nothing happened.

  The water surrounding her had nullified all transmissions.

  Realizing the danger, the villain turned to Dark Soul.

  “End her,” he commanded coldly. “Before she speaks.”

  Elsewhere, the journey continued.

  As they traveled between nations, the God of Thunder finally broke the silence.

  “So,” he said, glancing sideways, “what’s your power?”

  Then, with a faint smirk, “Something harmless? Delivering supplies, maybe?”

  The mockery was deliberate.

  The Rank Two Hundred Hero didn’t react.

  “I control wind,” he replied calmly. “Pressure, direction—enough to slice through solid objects.”

  The God of Thunder stopped walking.

  That answer didn’t make sense.

  “With that ability,” he said slowly, “you should’ve been in the top fifty. At least.”

  He assumed it was a lie.

  So the Rank Two Hundred Hero told the truth.

  Long ago, during the Hero Ranking Examination, he had wielded his power through a sword—using wind as an extension of his strike.

  But he couldn’t control it.

  During a one-on-one assessment duel, the wind pressure spiraled out of control, obliterating the entire auditorium.

  What was meant to be a controlled evaluation turned into chaos.

  The judges believed he had deliberately used excessive force—attempting to fatally injure his opponent.

  But he hadn’t.

  “I lost control,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”

  Though his explanation saved him from punishment, the verdict was final.

  Until he mastered his power, he was forbidden from using it in combat.

  Still, seeing his honesty—and his willingness to accept responsibility—the headquarters gave him a place among the heroes.

  A rank.

  Two hundred.

  The God of Thunder said nothing after that.

  The wind moved softly around them as they continued forward.

  And somewhere ahead, the hunt was already tightening.

  pressure building—because once it breaks, nothing will stay the same.

  Is power more dangerous when it’s uncontrollable… or when it’s perfectly restrained?

  following the fiction so you don’t miss what’s coming next. Your comments, theories, and feedback genuinely shape how this world grows.

  The hunt has only just begun.