It had been a long time since the last hero pool upgrade, and Charlie felt the anticipation thrumming through him.
A-Level Hero Pool!
When the words flashed across his screen, his heart raced. The B-level pool had already given him powerhouses like Iron Man. What could an A-level hero bring? The possibilities were dizzying. He imagined heroes who could shift the balance of power single-handedly, turning him into a true force to be reckoned with.
But he knew better than to expect this pool to come without strings attached.
The introduction of the new pool was blunt: it wasn't exactly an A-level hero pool—it was a mixed pool.
On one hand, the description promised a significant improvement. The probability of useful heroes had increased, meaning the days of joke items like "Hulk's Underpants" or useless messages like "Thank you for participating" were over. Almost everything drawn now had a purpose.
The downside was that this pool combined C-level, B-level, and A-level heroes, and the odds of an A-level were slim. C-levels were most common, B-levels were next, and A-levels were the rarest of all.
In short, while A-level heroes were indeed in the pool, they'd be hard to come by.
And the price matched the stakes. Each draw cost a whopping 500 Hero Points, enough for ten draws from the old pool.
Charlie felt a pang in his gut. One draw's worth of points was expensive enough; pulling an unwanted C-level hero after shelling out so much would sting. But the allure of drawing an A-level hero was overwhelming. He couldn't risk missing out on the chance to improve his team.
"What if there's a real game-changer in there?"
His gaze lingered on the glowing "Summon" button. Excitement and nerves flooded him in equal measure.
"Is there a guarantee system for A-levels?" he asked aloud, eyes never leaving the screen.
"It's not specified, but it's possible," Friday replied, calm as ever.
"And how many points do I have right now, Friday?"
"One draw's worth."
It was a small sum but no surprise. Charlie had only recently drained his points stockpile, and a few days of lab work hadn't replenished much.
Research and lab projects were fast for experience, but Hero Points came from fieldwork. If he wanted points for future draws, he'd have to head back out into action.
"Well… one shot it is. Let's do this."
Charlie steadied himself, took a breath, and tapped the "Summon" button for his first draw from the A-level pool.
A surge of lightning-like effects filled the screen, so intense he had to pull back for a second. His heart skipped a beat, his chest tight with anticipation.
This was it.
…
The Ninth Special Service Division
Within ten minutes, fighter jets had launched from nine carriers. It was the fastest response time possible, but the mission wasn't assigned to a typical ops team. This was a specialized task force, handpicked based on Professor Miyazaki's recommendations.
The team's name: Ultimate Power.
Leading them was Ivan Petrov, an experienced operative with a record of steady command under pressure. The core team included Larry Wade as primary offense, Fana with her Phantom in Red, and Sonar as support. The only late addition was Felix, a CIA agent with a complicated backstory—even he hadn't known his true status until recently.
Normally, a foreign agent would have been disqualified from this operation, but the Division was in the middle of a complete overhaul. With ICU and psychiatric units merging, Felix's role had shifted from murky to essential. Despite being outed as an insider, he'd not only retained his position but gained influence. His Phantom abilities alone set him apart from most of the team.
During the flight, the team understood that this mission was unlike any they'd faced before. Leila, an ancient herself, had explained that the extreme energy readings they'd detected meant only one thing: Ophelia was finally making a move she'd likely considered for ages—
She was absorbing a teammate.
Leila had revealed that a few ancients possessed a ritual for accelerated resurrection, devouring the essence of an ally. Not every ancient could do it, but Ophelia was one of the rare few with the ability.
Her reluctance up until now suggested she'd been waiting for the perfect moment, perhaps needing to reach a certain power level. If she was taking this step, it meant she felt ready.
The ancients they'd fought so far were barely shadows of their former selves. What a fully restored ancient could do was anyone's guess. They were about to find out.
"Approaching the target," Felix announced from the cockpit, his voice steady. Though he was new to piloting, he'd taken to it quickly. Weeks of simulations had sharpened his skills, and now he handled the jet like a natural.
"We'll be in position in three minutes…"
"Felix! Watch it!" Sonar's voice snapped over the comm.
It took only an instant for Felix to understand. His Phantom alerted him, and he saw it—an enormous, dark tendril hurtling toward the jet, ready to slice it in half.
An ordinary pilot would have frozen, but Felix's reflexes had been honed to razor sharpness. Yanking the controls, he pulled the jet into a sharp bank. The team felt the sudden shift, thrown against their restraints as the jet swerved, but their seat belts held.
The tendril narrowly missed, but their trouble was far from over. Felix's hands flew over the controls, trying to stabilize the jet, when the left wing gave way with a sickening crack. An invisible force had ripped it apart, sending fragments of flaming metal spiraling into the night.
"I thought I dodged that…" Felix muttered, gripping the controls tightly.
"It's a projection," Sonar called from the back. "One of the ancients must have an ability to create illusions. That tentacle could have been a decoy for the real attack."
"Right," Felix responded, his mind working fast.
In an instant, he shifted control to his Phantom. His eyes turned white, his body moving with a shadowy precision as the Phantom took over. With a swift pull, he managed a hard landing, the jet screeching across a stretch of empty farmland, its path marked by flames and sparks.
The team barely had time to brace as the jet skidded to a halt. Felix threw the control switch for the hatch, but the door jammed, battered from the crash. He was reaching for the emergency lever when Larry Wade moved in.
"Step back," Larry said, and Felix barely had time to react before a flash of electricity burst from Larry's hand, blasting the door off its hinges.
"Well… that works," Felix said with a wry grin.
The team dropped to the ground, ready to move when another invisible strike came out of nowhere, this time targeting Fana. But her Phantom reacted, leaping forward to intercept the blow. Both Fana and the Phantom were knocked back, but her Phantom had absorbed the worst of it.
Ivan responded instantly, his arm transforming into a rapid-fire machine gun as he peppered the air in the direction of the strike.
Usak, one of the ancients, materialized in the line of fire, but the bullets passed through him like water, leaving him unharmed.
It was yet another illusion.
Without warning, a second Usak appeared beside the first, then a third, a fourth, and then countless copies, all circling the team.
"Humans," Usak's voice echoed around them, deep and hollow.
"You'd better prepare your last words."