Prologue: Skateboard Man

Being a hero transcends supernatural power, strength or intelligence.

A hero should be compassionate.

A hero should be selfless.

A hero should be willing to put their body on the line to protect others.

That's what the International Superhero Association (the ISA) says, anyway.

They plaster those words everywhere. On billboards, on recruitment posters, even in commercials.

It's the ideal image of a hero, the kind people want to believe in. A noble protector, a warrior of justice, someone who will always show up, no matter how dire the situation.

But if that were all it took… I would have at least been an A-Class hero by now.

I knew I had those qualities. Compassion? I wouldn't be here, fighting every day if I didn't care.

Selflessness? I'd thrown myself into danger more times than I could count, even when I knew I couldn't win.

That also meant putting my body on the line. I've gotten scars on top of scars, bruises I'm almost certain would never fade at this point.

But the truth is, none of that really matters.

Not in this world.

Because in the end, the only thing that truly defines a hero… is power.

Strength is everything. The ISA can talk about heart and courage all they want, but the rankings tell the real story.

The higher your Class, the stronger you are. The lower your Class, the less you matter.

No one respected a hero who couldn't win fights. No one wanted to be saved by someone who could barely save themselves.

That was the painful truth.

No matter how much heart, compassion or determination a hero possessed, the extent of help they could offer was ultimately dictated by their power.

That was why Classes and Ranks existed. It was why those in higher Classes were entrusted with the most perilous missions.

They were the only ones who could actually help.

And that's the world we live in.

It happened a long time ago, before my parents were even born.

This planet — Earth — was normal. No superheroes, no villains and no monsters.

There were numerous nations of regular people living regular lives. Then the First Contact War happened.

It started with an alien invasion —massive, insect-like creatures descending from the skies, consuming everything in their path.

Governments fell, cities burned, and humanity was on the brink of collapse.

However, the First Contact War acted as a catalyst for something unbelievable.

In the darkest moment, a change occured in humanity. People… awakened.

They called it Enlightenment Events.

They were moments of impossible survival, where individuals defied death and came out the other side with something new.

Powers. Humans gained powers.

These powers were called meta-abilities. They had gained that name because they were abilities beyond human understanding.

Some could fly. Some could conjure flames from their hands. Some could crush mountains with a single punch.

Those people became the first heroes.

They fought back, and against all odds, they won.

When the war ended, humanity rebuilt.

Nations were destroyed and the continents grew closer to each other rather than apart because of the war.

So, civilization was rebuilt.

No countries, no continents. Just Planet Earth and 26 Sectors, all numbered according to the alphabet.

This wasn't the only change in the world. Not at all.

The monsters that rained down didn't disappear with the aliens, they bred and crossbred, creating more and more threats that kept emerging.

Many more Enlightened Events occured.

People with powers weren't always heroes; some became villains, tyrants, criminals.

Society needed order, and so the International Superhero Association was formed.

Now, every Sector operates under the ISA's jurisdiction, each all having a control department called ISA towers.

Just as Sectors were named Sector A to Z. The same went for towers. Tower A was built in Sector A and so on.

Each Sector was a massive, sprawling metropolis, rebuilt from the ashes of the old world.

And in each Sector, heroes are the first and last line of defense against the villains and monsters that might come next.

At the very top, there was the Guardian Corps — the ISA's ultimate champions.

They were the best of the best. Legends among legends. They didn't bother with small-time crime or slightly higher threats; they only showed up when the world itself was in danger.

They were high ranked S-Clase Heroes chosen amongst the rest of the elite, the titans, the ones whose battles reshaped landscapes.

Below them were the A-Class Heroes. They were extremely powerful, famous, respected. However, their powers just couldn't rival with the S-Classes.

Still, they were very revered. The kind of heroes people look up to.

Then there's B-Class. They were competent, fairly powerful and skilled, but still a step below true greatness.

C-Class were stronger than average, but nowhere near top-tier.

The D-Class heroes were borderline amateurs, mostly around to handle minor threats.

They usually found themselves stuck between being utterly useless and slightly relevant.

And finally, at the very bottom…

E-Class.

The nobodies. The weaklings. The ones who exist as a technicality.

And that's where I come in.

I'm Reno Renly. Skateboard Man. E-Class, Rank 50.

Fiftieth place. Out of fifty-five.

Fiftieth place.

Most people in E-Class didn't have powers.

I didn't either.

No Enlightenment Event, no sudden moment of transformation.

No radioactive insect bite, no lightning strike while standing in a chemical bath, no ancient artifact bestowing cosmic energy. Nothing.

I was just a guy with a skateboard.

A guy who wanted to be a hero.

I started small. Stopping purse snatchers. Helping lost kids find their parents. Breaking up alleyway fights.

People in my neighborhood knew me. They liked me. I'd saved a few cats from trees, helped a few people get home safe.

But in the grand scheme of things?

I didn't matter.

I knew that.

I know that while I was chasing down a petty thief on my skateboard, an A-Class hero was probably out there fighting some world-destroying monstrosity.

I knew that while I'm pulling someone out of a burning car, an S-Class hero is battling some cosmic god in deep space.

I knew my place.

But even knowing that, it still hurt.

It hurt when I saw the way they looked at me — the higher-ranked heroes.

Like I was a joke. Like I shouldn't even be wearing the ISA badge. Like the fact that I call myself a hero at all is some kind of insult to the profession.

I knew I was weak. I knew I was barely making a difference.

But I wanted to help.

Because I always believed that even if I wasn't strong enough to save the whole world, I knew... that I could always try.

Even if I only ended up saving one live.

It was always worth it.

Which is why, when the alert came in about a Inferno-Class threat rampaging through Sector D, I didn't hesitate.

I grabbed my gear. Strapped on my helmet. Kicked off on my skateboard.

Because there were people in danger.

And I couldn't just stand by and watch.

I was a hero.