The sky above the city had already turned the color of ash.
Buildings burned in the distance, their skeletons bent and broken as if the world itself had been punched. Shockwaves rolled through the streets again and again, shattering glass that somehow still remained. Sirens had long gone silent—not because help had arrived, but because there was no one left to answer.
At the center of it all stood two figures.
One was the world’s shield.
The other was its executioner.
Hero Rank One—the Symbol of Peace, the strongest being humanity had ever produced—hovered above the ruined avenue, his body glowing with power so dense it distorted the air around him. Every citizen knew that glow. Every child had grown up believing that as long as it shone, the world would never truly fall.
Opposite him stood the villain.
A monster wrapped in shadows and blood, his presence alone crushing the ground beneath his feet. Even now, even wounded, he stood smiling—like this was all just a game.
“You end here,” the hero said, his voice steady, though the devastation around them spoke of how long and brutal the battle had already been.
The villain tilted his head slightly, amused.
The hero didn’t wait.
He gathered everything.
Every ounce of power. Every year of training. Every sacrifice, every scar, every life he had sworn to protect. The air screamed as energy collapsed inward toward him, forming a blinding core in his chest.
Cameras—those few that still worked—captured the moment. The world watched in frozen terror.
Then—
The hero moved.
The attack tore through the city like judgment itself. The ground split. Buildings vaporized. The shockwave flattened everything within kilometers.
The villain was struck dead center.
For a moment, silence.
Then the dust settled.
The villain lay sprawled across the shattered street, his left leg completely destroyed. Bone fragments jutted at unnatural angles. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading rapidly across the cracked concrete. His body twitched once… then stilled.
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The hero hovered, breathing heavily.
Had it worked?
Slowly—too slowly—the villain began to laugh.
A deep, broken laugh that echoed through the ruins.
“You shouldn’t have held back,” the villain said, blood spilling from his mouth as he turned his head. His eyes locked onto the hero’s. “You should’ve used everything.”
The hero’s expression tightened.
The villain’s smile widened.
“My turn.”
In a single instant, the world shifted.
The villain moved.
No warning. No buildup.
A fatal blow struck the hero square in the chest.
The glow vanished.
The power that once balanced the world shattered in an instant. The hero’s body convulsed mid-air, unable to withstand the sudden collapse of everything that held him together.
Then—
His body exploded.
Limbs tore apart. Flesh and bone scattered across the ruined skyline. The sound alone cracked what remained of nearby structures.
Hero Rank One was gone.
The ground shook violently as buildings finally gave in, collapsing under the accumulated damage of the battle. Dust clouds swallowed the city whole.
Silence followed.
A silence so deep it felt like a grave.
Entire districts were erased. Those who survived clung to life beneath rubble and fire, too afraid to scream.
The Symbol of Peace had fallen.
From the shadows, another figure watched.
Hero Rank Two Hundred stood at the edge of the destruction, frozen.
He had arrived too late.
His fists trembled as he stared at what remained of his leader. Nails dug into his palms, cutting skin, blood dripping unnoticed onto the ground.
“So this is how it ends…” he muttered.
His jaw tightened.
“No. It won’t.”
His body moved before his mind caught up.
He stepped forward, eyes locked onto the villain—who lay wounded, laughing softly to himself. The screams of approaching subordinates echoed from afar. Reinforcements were coming.
There wasn’t much time.
Hero Rank Two Hundred reached into his coat and pulled out a knife.
Not a grand weapon. Not a symbol. Just steel.
The villain noticed him then and laughed louder.
“A weakling?” the villain sneered. “You heroes really are finished.”
Hero Rank Two Hundred didn’t answer.
He knelt beside the villain’s shattered leg and moved with terrifying precision.
This wasn’t rage.
This was intent.
The blade slid into exact points—tendons severed cleanly, nerves sliced with surgical accuracy. Each cut was deliberate, calculated to prevent regeneration.
The villain’s laughter faltered.
Then turned into rage.
“You DARE—!”
Another cut.
Another nerve.
Another future stolen.
By the time the villain’s subordinates burst into view, the damage was done.
Hero Rank Two rose instantly and turned to flee.
The villain roared in fury, reaching out, ready to crush him—
Then stopped.
His gaze caught a glimpse of something through the dust.
A badge.
Cracked. Covered in debris.
Only one number was visible.
2—
“Rank… two hundred?” the villain muttered, eyes burning.
But the figure was already gone.
The city swallowed him.
No matter how loudly the villain ordered his subordinates to search, the hero had vanished without a trace.
And then—
The broadcast spread.
Across the world.
Hero Rank One: Dead.
Panic exploded globally.
Cities locked down. Protests erupted. People screamed for answers, for safety, for someone to blame. Some barricaded themselves inside their homes. Others flooded the streets in fear and anger.
If the strongest hero could die—
No one was safe.
Standing among the distant crowd, far from the epicenter of destruction, was a man in a cloak.
A hero.
Ranked two hundred.
Someone nearby laughed.
“Hey—are you really a hero?” the man scoffed. “Rank 200? But look at that costume. You look like a real one!”
Laughter followed.
The hero didn’t respond.
His hands were shaking beneath the cloak.
His heart pounded violently as memories of blood, screams, and shattered bodies replayed in his mind.
He turned away quietly.
And walked home.
