You know, there are a lot of ways to start a story. Some people like epic battles, dramatic monologues, or maybe a flashback to a tragic childhood...or telling someone to commit(???). Me? I get to start my story hanging upside-down from a tree in the middle of an ogre camp.
Not exactly what I had in mind when I set out this morning.
The rope digs into my ankles as I swing back and forth like some kind of organic piñata. Below me, the ogres are gathered around a massive bonfire, sharpening their weapons, smashing rocks together, and, oh yeah, arguing over what spices to use for me. Apparently, I'm the main course tonight.
"You'd better use garlic!" one of them growls, slamming a fist on a crude wooden table.
"Garlic? Pfft. You always ruin the meat with garlic, Grog!" another snaps back.
"Garlic enhances flavor!"
"Garlic makes everything taste like garlic!"
Their argument gets louder, and for a moment, I'm hopeful they'll beat each other to death before they get to me. But then the biggest ogre, the one wearing what I think is a chef's hat made out of… a human skull?… roars loud enough to shake the tree I'm tied to.
"ENOUGH!"
The camp goes silent. Chef Hat Ogre points a giant wooden spoon at me, his yellow eyes gleaming with excitement.
"We roast tiny man in 20 minutes. Prepare the cauldron!"
Well, this is just fantastic...
Let's back up a little. You're probably wondering, Zayden, how does a charming, brilliant F-Class Hero like you end up as dinner for a bunch of ogres? Great question.
It started, as most of my bad ideas do, with me breaking the rules.
You see, the MagiBeast Secluded Zone is a giant "off-limits" area on Eartheart. Heroes need at least a B-Class ranking to even think about going in there, because it's filled with all kinds of nasty creatures that don't particularly care for humans. But guess what? I'm not a B-Class Hero.
I'm Zayden Cross, F-Class Disaster Extraordinaire, and I thought it would be hilarious to sneak into the zone to "scout for threats." Totally not because I lost a bet with some drunk guy at the bar last night. Totally not because he dared me to bring back an ogre tooth as proof.
Anyway, long story short: I got in, accidentally tripped every alarm system the MagiBeasts have, and now I'm here, upside-down and marinating in my own sweat.
Now, here's the thing about my power: it only works when I break the rules. Technically, entering the zone already activated Rulebreaker's Gambit. But that just gave me a temporary boost in agility to dodge a MagiBeast earlier. Nothing game-changing.
If I want to survive this, I'm going to need something a little more... explosive. And that means I've got to break an even bigger rule.
The problem? The only rule left to break that I can think of right now is..
"don't make the ogres mad."
"Hey!" I shout, twisting slightly in the rope so I can face the ogres. "Before you roast me, can I just say something?"
Chef Hat Ogre glares at me. "No talking from the food!"
"Come on," I say, grinning despite the blood rushing to my head. "Don't you guys have any respect for your prey? Let me die with some dignity!"
The ogres grumble among themselves. Chef Hat Ogre finally nods. "Fine. Speak, tiny man. But make it quick."
Perfect.
"First of all," I say, "garlic does enhance flavor. Grog's right, you're all cowards for not using it."
The ogres roar in outrage. Grog looks smug. Chef Hat Ogre raises his spoon, and for a second, I think he's going to swat me like a fly.
"And second," I continue, "I hope you enjoy this!"
I swing forward with all my strength, reaching into my pocket, and hurl a small bottle at the bonfire below. It's a smoke bomb—a cheap one I got from a discount hero supply store—but combined with Rulebreaker's Gambit, it explodes like a miniature volcano, sending thick purple smoke billowing through the camp.
The ogres panic, coughing and stumbling around as I activate the second part of my plan: wriggling like a maniac until the rope snaps.
I hit the ground with a thud, roll to my feet, and sprint toward the edge of the camp, laughing like a lunatic.
"I'M ZAYDEN CROSS! REMEMBER MY NAME!!"
By the time the smoke clears, I'm long gone, weaving through the dense forest with my heart pounding and my grin widening. Also I stole a stew pot from them, remember that for later.
Did I get the ogre tooth? Nope.
Did I technically survive? Absolutely.
And you know what? That's good enough for me.
I took off running, my hands still tied behind my back. Turns out, dodging trees while hogtied is a skill no one tells you you'll need. Behind me, the Ogres were losing their collective minds, roaring loud enough to scare birds out of the trees.
"GET HIM! TINY MAN OUR DINNER!" one bellowed, his voice rattling through the air like thunder.
"Dinner? I'd be more like an appetizer!" I shouted over my shoulder, because sarcasm is my love language—especially when I'm about to die.
I dodged a low-hanging branch just in time to avoid a faceful of splinters. My boots squelched through the mud, my balance barely holding as I sped toward what I hoped was freedom. Ignoring the fact that I had no clue where I was going.
Then I saw it: a wooden bridge stretching across a massive canyon, its planks old and rotting.
"Perfect," I muttered, because irony is the only thing worse than my luck.
The Ogres were gaining on me, their footsteps booming like miniature earthquakes. I sprinted toward the bridge and stepped onto the first plank, which groaned like an old man trying to get out of bed.
Behind me, the leader of the pack—a nine-foot slab of muscle and malice wielding a club that looked suspiciously like an uprooted tree—stopped just shy of the bridge.
His name is Grunthar. I think.
"YOU CROSS(no pun intended), YOU DIE!" he snarled, pointing his club at me.
"Yeah, I'm really not seeing the upside to either option here," I shot back.
The Ogre stepped onto the bridge, his massive feet making the entire structure sway under his weight. His buddies followed, their combined mass turning the whole thing into a wobbling deathtrap.
"Alright, Cross," I muttered to myself, inching backward across the swaying planks. "What's the plan? Think, man, think. Breaking rules is kind of your thing. What's illegal here?"
Aaaand it hit me: Ogre territory had a strict no-pirating law. No jokes, they were weirdly protective of their songs, stories, and cultural artifacts. It was considered the ultimate insult. Perks of being a main character.
So, naturally, I cleared my throat and started singing the first thing that popped into my head.
"This is the song that never ends! Yes, it goes on and on, my frieeends!"
Wow, I'm never singing that again.
The Ogres froze. The leader's face twisted in rage, veins bulging in his forehead. "YOU DARE SING STOLEN SONG?!"
"Sure do, big guy!" I yelled, hopping onto a more stable part of the bridge as they charged. The moment the first Ogre lunged at me, the entire bridge gave way with a deafening crack.
I jumped, flinging myself toward the opposite ledge as the Ogres plummeted into the canyon below, their screams echoing long after they disappeared into the misty depths.
Hanging onto a vine, I pulled myself up to safety, panting and grinning despite the fact that I was bruised, filthy, and still very much tied up.
"Rule Zero," I said to no one in particular. "When in doubt, make it worse for everyone else."
. . .
You know that one guy in history class—the one who always raised his hand and asked, "But why?" Yeah, I hated that guy. Mainly because he's exactly the kind of person who would love the mess that is our world's history. And trust me, it's a mess.
So sit back, relax, and let Uncle (I'm 19) Zayden tell you the tale of how humanity went from a normal planet with nine-to-five jobs and cat memes to.. well, this.
Once upon a time—like, I dunno, a couple of centuries ago—Earth was just your typical blue-green marble spinning in the void. No superpowers. No giant death monsters. No hero rankings. Just people living their boring little lives.
Then one day, BOOM. Out of nowhere, people started waking up with powers. Not just a few people—everyone. And not those lame "parlor trick" powers you see in movies. These were game-changing. The kind of powers that could rewrite the laws of physics, topple governments, or, in one guy's case, turn his head into a toaster (true story).
At first, it was cool. Everyone thought, Hey, this is fun! Look at me, I can fly! But then someone asked the wrong question: What happens when you give superpowers to people who suck?
Answer: chaos.
Here's the thing about humans: we're not great at sharing. So, naturally, when a bunch of random people woke up with godlike abilities, everything fell apart. Nations collapsed. Cities burned. And then someone—no one knows who—decided to try summoning a demon or something because why not?
Spoiler alert: it worked. Kinda. Instead of one demon, they got a whole mess of MagiBeasts—giant, horrifying monsters with superpowers of their own. These things didn't care about borders or politics. They just wanted to destroy, eat, and occasionally nap in the wreckage of civilization.
By the time the dust settled, Earth wasn't even Earth anymore. It was just a big, broken battlefield where people fought for survival against each other and the MagiBeasts.
So how did we get from that hot mess to the giant planet we call Eartheart? Funny story.
Turns out, some of the superpowered people were strong enough to mess with space-time itself. These were the first S-Rank Heroes and Villains—the ones who could reshape reality like it was Play-Doh. They decided Earth wasn't big enough for all the drama, so they worked together (a rare occurrence, mind you) to expand it.
The result? Eartheart. A planet.. BIGGER than Earth, with room for all the chaos you could ever want.
Oh, and those S-Rank types? They got bored of Eartheart pretty quickly and decided to make their own personal planets, leaving the rest of us here to deal with the leftovers. How generous of them.
Remember those MagiBeasts I mentioned? Yeah, they didn't go away. They're still roaming around, causing problems, and generally being the worst.
Heroes were supposed to take care of them, but instead of wiping them out, they decided, "Hey, let's use these things to train!" Because nothing says responsible like letting giant murder-beasts roam free so you can practice your punches.
That's where the whole hero ranking system came in. People wanted to know who was strong, who was weak, and who was just faking it. So now we've got this big, flashy competition where heroes fight villains, MagiBeasts, or each other for fame and glory.
And that brings us to Tovice, my personal corner of Eartheart. It's not the nicest place—mostly F-Class Heroes like me, lower-tier villains, and the occasional MagiBeast wandering in to wreck the joint. But hey, it's home.
The city's got rules (which I break), heroes (like me), and plenty of chaos to go around. It's the perfect place to test the limits of Rulebreaker's Gambit, dodge responsibility, and maybe—just maybe—do something heroic every once in a while.
So, what's the point of all this? Why did superpowers appear in the first place? Why did Earth fall apart? Why did the S-Rankers ditch us to live on their own planets?
Honestly? I have no idea. And I don't really care.
All I know is, this is the world we've got now. It's messy, unpredictable, and full of people trying to make sense of it all. Some of us fight to survive. Some of us fight to become legends. And some of us—like me—just make it up as we go along.
So, yeah. That's the story of how we got here. And if you're wondering how it ends... well, stick around.
RRRING!
The sound of my alarm clock was the first crime of the day. It screeched like a dying MagiBeast, its digital red eyes glaring at me from the nightstand. I groaned, slapped at it blindly, and missed. It kept ringing.
"Alright, you win," I muttered, rolling over and grabbing the thing. With one quick motion, I ripped the batteries out. Silence. Sweet, sweet silence.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling of my apartment. The morning sunlight leaked in through the blinds, casting faint lines on the peeling wallpaper. The place smelled faintly of burnt toast—probably from my neighbor, who I swear cooks everything on high heat.
My apartment wasn't much. One room that doubled as a bedroom and living room, with a kitchenette tucked into the corner. The bathroom was small enough that you could sit on the toilet and wash your hands at the same time. But hey, it was home. Sort of.
The rent was due, and my landlord—bless his heart—still hadn't realized anyone actually lived here. Most people thought the place was abandoned, which suited me just fine. Less knocking on my door, asking about bills I couldn't pay.
I swung my legs off the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor with a slap. My morning routine was simple:
1) Check for mail I didn't want. Nothing today, unless you count the pizza flyer someone shoved under my door.
2) Brush my teeth. Found my toothbrush under the sink where I'd dropped it last night. Added toothpaste from a nearly empty tube. Brushed. Minty fresh.
3) Look in the fridge and despair. I opened the door to reveal a lonely can of expired soda, half a sandwich I didn't remember making, and...was that cheese? It used to be cheese, anyway.
I sighed, grabbed the soda, and cracked it open. Breakfast of champions.
As I sipped, I glanced at the wall calendar. Another week, another string of nothing missions. I was an F-Class hero, which meant all the "exciting" work went to people higher up the food chain. The kind of jobs I got were less about heroism and more about grunt work.
"Help Mrs. Crabtree find her cat. Again." I read aloud, squinting at the scribbled note. "Great. Love risking my life for Mr. Whiskers."
Setting the soda down, I pulled on yesterday's clothes—a plain shirt and jeans—and gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror by the door. Hair? Chaotic. Shirt? Wrinkled. Eyes? Slightly bloodshot but functional.
"Good enough," I said, slinging my jacket over one shoulder. Time to face the world and whatever nonsense it had planned for me today.
Stepping outside, I took a deep breath of city air—equal parts smog, street food, and desperation.
The streets were already bustling with people. Heroes in capes, villains in masks, regular folks trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Another day in paradise.
My watch beeped, reminding me I was late for the only thing keeping me off the streets: another useless mission. "Let's get this over with," I muttered, shoving my hands into my pockets and heading into the chaos.
Finding Mrs. Crabtree's cat wasn't hard. The little guy—Mr. Whiskers—was perched on a fire escape five stories up, glaring down at me like I was the reason he'd climbed up there in the first place.
"Come on, buddy," I called, holding out a can of tuna I'd borrowed from a corner store. "Let's make this easy for both of us."
Mr. Whiskers hissed. Charming.
I climbed up onto the dumpster, the closest thing to a ladder in this alley, and reached for the lowest rung of the fire escape. "You know," I grunted, pulling myself up, "this is not what I signed up for when I joined the Hero Association."
By the time I reached the fifth floor, my arms were killing me. Mr. Whiskers, of course, decided to make things worse by darting to the next ledge over.
"You littl-"
Before I could finish, a shadow fell over the alley. A low, eerie hum filled the air, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Zayden Cross," a deep voice boomed. "Your pathetic career ends here."
I froze, halfway between the ledge and certain doom below. Slowly, I turned to see a figure floating in midair, their body surrounded by crackling green energy.
They were dressed in sleek black armor with neon-green lines glowing along the seams, a helmet obscuring their face. Energy pulsed around them, warping the air.
"Uh…who are you, exactly?" I asked, squinting.
"I am Disruptor," they declared, their voice reverberating like a storm. "Master of chaos, destroyer of order, and your executioner!"
"Okay, first of all, great branding. Really intimidating. Second, I'm gonna need you to wait for a sec. I'm kind of in the middle of something here." I gestured to Mr. Whiskers, who was now calmly grooming himself as if nothing was happening.
Disruptor raised a hand, and the green energy around them intensified. "Your defiance will be your undoing, hero!"
Before I could react, a wave of energy shot out, ripping through the alley below. The dumpster I'd used for climbing was shredded into scrap, and the brick walls of the buildings cracked like eggshells.
"Alright, alright!" I yelped, scrambling onto the ledge and grabbing Mr. Whiskers by the scruff. The cat yowled in protest, clawing at my arm. "Calm down, Sparky! I'll give you my full attention If you just wait!
Disruptor wasn't interested in waiting. Another energy blast tore through the air, this one aimed directly at me.
Thinking fast, I swung Mr. Whiskers under one arm and jumped. The fire escape collapsed behind me as the blast hit, sending metal debris raining down.
I landed awkwardly on a pile of trash bags, groaning as the impact knocked the wind out of me. Mr. Whiskers wriggled free and darted off, completely unfazed.
"Great. Mission accomplished," I muttered, rolling onto my feet.
Disruptor descended, their energy warping the air around them. "Any last words, hero?"
I dusted off my jacket and grinned. "Yeah. I'm about to break a rule."
Before they could respond, I reached into my pocket, pulled out my emergency flare, and aimed it straight at the "No Unauthorized Fireworks" sign posted above us.
The flare shot into the air, exploding in a dazzling display of red and gold. The boom echoed through the alley, and I felt the familiar tug of my power activating.
Disruptor's energy faltered. Their glowing aura flickered, and they staggered in midair. "What…what is happening?!"
"That'd be your powers taking a coffee break," I said, stepping forward. "You're welcome, by the way."
They snarled and launched a weak blast of energy at me, but it fizzled out before it could reach. "This isn't over, Cross!"
"Yeah, yeah," I said, watching as they wobbled away into the sky like a drunk balloon. "See you at the next dramatic showdown."
The alley was quiet again, save for the faint sound of Mr. Whiskers yowling somewhere in the distance. I sighed, dusted myself off, and headed to collect my payment.