"I… I said that to someone else," he muttered. "I was being interviewed…"
Eliot eyes widened as he suddenly remembered.
The nervous fan...
The praise... The questions... The recording...
Damon.
"I was talking to a student!" he snapped. "He asked me about being Number One! It wasn't a villain!"
"We can't verify that," the examiner stated.
"You're suspended indefinitely," another said. "You'll not be eligible for Emerald consideration for the next five years."
Eliot's mouth fell open.
"Please you have to believe me! I would never work with a villain!"
No matter how much Eliot tried to defend himself, he had no proof to back up his claims.
Only proof against him.
---
Within the week, Eliot Brandt stopped showing up to his usual rooftop monologues. His fan club fizzled and his name soon vanished from HeroNet discussions.
Rumors swirled.
> "I heard he cheated on the trials."
"He was working with a villain, I swear."
"He got blacklisted. He's done."
No one knew the full story.
Only one person did.
---
~ Damon's Dorm – Midnight ~
> [Task Completed!]
[ +100 Aura Points awarded ]
[ Bonus Unlocked: Target was Emerald-eligible ]
[ +50 Bonus AP awarded ]
[ Villain Progress: 5% ]
Damon leaned back in his chair while staring at the new notification with a smirk.
■■
In a flash, one weekt had gone by since Damon King framed Eliot Brandt into suspension.
Seven days of mild crimes, aura gains, and steady stat investments.
He didn't look like a hero. He didn't walk like a fighter.
But things were changing.
His body was starting to feel tighter. His movements more deliberate. His stamina was becoming better and he even caught himself winning short races with the train door before it closed—a personal achievement.
He stood shirtless in front of his mirror now, staring at the faint outline of muscle beginning to trace across his arms.
> [Current Physical Stats:]
Strength – 12
Agility – 11
Speed – 10
Reflexes – 11
Endurance – 9
Flexibility – 8
> Aura Points Remaining: 240
He couldn't deny it anymore.
Aura was changing him.
---
On this same afternoon, he was walking down Blissview Street, casually sipping from a soda cup, when he felt a tug in his gut.
Someone was staring at him.
He turned and from across the street, stood a tall figure in a red apron, working the sidewalk tables of a small cafe.
He had broad shoulders and swollen left cheek with a tall frame.
It was Eliot Brandt.
His face shifted from blank to enraged in less than a second as he spotted Damon.
"You…"
Damon flinched.
Eliot dropped his tray causing silverware to clatter across the pavement as he clenched his fists.
"YOU RUINED MY LIFE!"
"Oh, for the love of—"
Damon turned and fled.
Eliot who was desperate for catharsis, caught up with him three blocks down and tackled him into an alleyway beside a bakery.
Damon hit the wall with a thud and spun around as Eliot grabbed his hoodie.
"I knew it was you!" Eliot snarled with rage. "Those questions… with my voice—!"
"You have no idea what you're talking about—!"
"I lost EVERYTHING!" Eliot screamed and then threw a punch at Damon.
Or at least he tried to.
Damon sharpened reflexes and sight spotted the swing before it was thrown out.
All in perfect motion...
The telegraphed twist of the shoulder... The tightening of the knuckles... The slight lift in Eliot's heel...
It was like seeing the world in a slightly slower motion.
Damon swerved cleanly to the side, causing the punch to graze air.
Eliot's fist slammed into the brick wall behind Damon with a nasty crunch.
"Ah—!" he yelled.
Damon instinctively struck back, sending a fist crashing into Eliot's gut.
Eliot's breath exploded from his chest as he staggered back with widened eyes.
"What the—?"
"You two faced self righteous fuckers!"
Damon stepped forward and unloaded more attacks.
"Hero my foot!"
A jab to the nose... A hook to the jaw... A swift kick behind Eliot's knee, followed by a rising knee to the ribs.
"You are nothing... a loser!"
Eliot dropped like a sack of cement to the ground.
Then Damon grabbed him by the collar, lifted his head slightly, and slammed a blow into his mouth.
Four teeth scattered on the ground like broken pearls.
Eliot wheezed in disbelief as blood dripped from his nose and lips.
Damon leaned in with a calm voice.
"Nothing happened here. You tripped. On your ego. Got it?"
Eliot whimpered and nodded fearfully. There was no trace of the person that interviewed him. It was like he was kneeling before an entirely different person, opposite in nature.
> [Ding!]
[ You've committed a violent criminal act ]
[ +700 Aura Points earned ]
[ +100 Bonus AP – Unprovoked retaliation ]
[ +50 Bonus AP – Identity still unknown ]
[ Total: +1100 Aura Points ]
Damon blinked.
"…That was more than the pizza prank and audio fraud combined."
He stepped over Eliot's twitching form, cracked his knuckles, and walked out of the alley.
---
~ Back at the Café ~
Eliot staggered back to his table post with his messed up face. His uniform was soaked in blood and his apron was half torn.
The owner stared at him in shock. Customers whispered and a few filmed.
"Y-you just… ran out in the middle of a shift," the owner stammered. "And now you're back like a broken tomato."
"I got jumped—!"
"You're fired."
"What?!"
"You failed to prioritise the customers! Get out!"
Eliot stood there with his mouth agape and blood pooling in his lower lip.
Now he has lost his job as well.
He gritted his teeth with a look of hatred as an image of Damon appeared in his mind.
'I swear on my father's left balls... I will make you pay...'
---
(( Later That Night – Damon's Dorm ))
Damon walked in casually, threw his hoodie over a chair, and opened the system screen with a smug grin.
> [Aura Points Available: 1100]
"I'm getting an ability soon," he muttered with glee while scrolling through the ability list.
However, he paused when a concerned appeared at the back of his mind.
That alley was public. He'd fought without disguise.
What if Eliot remembered more? What if someone had filmed it?
Not to mention that every other illicit activity he had engaged in had been without a disguise.
He couldn't keep doing this out in the open. The risk was growing.
If he was going to take bigger steps, he needed a way to hide his identity.
He slipped on a pair of shoes, left the dorm, and walked three blocks to a 24/7 thrift store. The place smelled like dust and spray paint.
He bought:
A black windbreaker jacket
Fingerless gloves
Lightweight boots
A ski mask
A dark hoodie with no logos
Black jeans
A cheap burner phone
The cashier didn't say a word. Just nodded and bagged.
---
Back in the dorm, Damon sat on his bed and pulled the ski mask over his head.
It fit snug. His face was shadowed just right. It left his mouth clear but darkened his eyes.
He stood and stared at his mirror.
"…Now this… this is progress."
He raised a fist and mimed a villain pose.
All of a sudden—
BANG!
The dorm door swung open.
"Yo, Damon, you in he—"
A student, about his age, stepped in and paused in confoundment.
'A shady man standing in the middle of the room in a mask and gloves?'
He instantly screamed.
"BURG-LAR!!!"
Damon froze.
"…Oh, crap."