Chapter 25
A large crowd had gathered, eyes fixed on the unstable portal in the city square. It flickered violently, pulsing with ominous energy. Whispers of panic spread like wildfire—no one wanted to witness a portal break. The worst-case scenario felt dangerously close.
"Have you contacted the Hero Guild?" an old man asked, his voice sharp with urgency. He turned to a younger man standing beside him, who looked equally tense.
"I have," the younger man replied, brows furrowed. "But there's no high-ranking branch nearby. We had to reach out to some of the smaller, independent guilds."
"What?!" the old man barked. "You can't just call in a non-standard guild for something like this! Do you even understand the risk?"
His fear wasn't baseless. This wasn't just any portal—it was a rare dual-type, both entrances glowing yellow. If either collapsed, the fallout would devastate the entire city… maybe even the region.
"They're said to be efficient," the young man offered weakly. "They cleared a yellow-class portal in minutes before."
The old man gave him a skeptical look. "Said by who? Fairy tales?"
But before he could continue his tirade, movement caught his eye. Three teenagers casually walked toward the volatile portal.
"Are they insane?" he muttered and rushed toward them.
"Man, this is our fourth portal today," Aiden groaned, stretching his arms. He glanced at Clara, who wore a hoodie that shadowed her face. "Just how many beast cores do you need for your experiment?"
Clara snorted. "Still figuring that out. Besides, Han hasn't complained."
Aiden turned to the tall figure leading their group. "Yo, Han. Aren't you tired at all?"
Han didn't even look back. "Are you talking to me?"
"Yeah, man. We've been clearing portals all day. Maybe we take a break?"
Han shrugged. "Why stop? Every monster we take down just makes us stronger."
To him, even the bosses of yellow-class portals had been weaker than that terrifying dark goblin from a few weeks ago.
"You shouldn't be complaining," Clara added, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Why not?" Aiden shot back.
"You extract beast DNA, go crazy laughing afterward, and walk away stronger. I should be the one complaining!" Clara said.
Before Aiden could respond, a gruff voice cut through the conversation.
"Hey! You kids—where the hell do you think you're going?" the old man stepped in front of them, clearly agitated. "Do you not see that portal?"
"Yeah," Aiden replied casually. "It's a twin portal. We know."
"Then why are you heading into it?!"
Han tilted his head, puzzled. "To clear it, obviously."
The old man blinked, dumbfounded. "Clear it? You're kidding me."
He looked them over, assuming they were some reckless, overconfident rookies drunk on newfound power.
"Listen, leave it to the Hero Guild. We've already contacted someone."
Han replied calmly, "We are the Hero Guild you contacted."
The old man nearly choked on air. "What kind of joke is this?! What's next, you're all S-Class heroes?"
Seeing the old man's rising temper, Han gestured for Clara to handle it.
She stepped forward, her pink eyes calm as she reached into her pocket. "We don't need your permission. Let us pass."
"If you go in there and die, I'll be held responsible. As the city's Mayor, I'm telling you to stop," the old man snapped. "If you don't leave now, I'll call the psychiatric ward!"
Without reacting to his threat, Clara pulled out a pendant and held it in front of his face. He angrily snatched it from her hand.
"What is this supposed to be? Trying to act important? Let me tell you something, girl—"
He froze.
His eyes landed on the bottom of the pendant, where a golden crescent gleamed faintly. His throat tightened.
"You're… you're—"
"Can we go now?" Clara asked, voice cool as ever.
"Yes, my lady!" The old man bowed immediately, his tone flipping from fury to reverence.
Aiden and Han didn't even blink. They'd seen reactions like this before. Still, the mystery behind Clara's identity—and her immense influence—continued to puzzle them.
The trio approached the portal. Both entrances radiated yellow energy, swirling in sync.
"I'll take the first one," Han said, stepping forward. "You two handle the second."
Aiden and Clara nodded, each heading toward their respective targets.
The young man from earlier approached the stunned Mayor. "They're... actually going in."
The Mayor gritted his teeth. "They're dead. They've lost their minds."
"You… you think they'll survive?"
The Mayor turned to him slowly, eyes red with anxiety. "You idiot! If anything happens to her, we're all dead. You better pray she comes back in one piece… or else."
Inside Han's Portal
Han stepped through the flickering portal and emerged into what looked like a vast jungle. Towering trees, thick vines, and the distant calls of beasts echoed around him—but he knew better than to assume this was just any ordinary forest. Every creature here, no matter how natural it looked, was a mutated guardian born from the portal's essence.
As if to confirm his instincts, a sharp gust cut through the air—a blur. A massive bird, its wings trailing afterimages of silver, dove at Han with its abnormally long, drill-like beak aimed straight for his heart.
Fwip!
The bird split in two mid-air, sliced cleanly by a shimmering blade of energy. Han didn't even flinch as its body thudded into the foliage behind him.
"Too weak," he muttered, walking past the twitching corpse. He didn't even bother checking for a beast core; monsters like this wouldn't yield anything of value to him.
Further in, the jungle teemed with life—oversized snakes with fur, monkeys with wings, wolves with armored hides. But what caught Han's eye was what loomed above it all.
At the peak of a jagged mountain stood a lion—colossal, with a mane made of swirling rock and glowing green eyes that pierced the jungle like spotlights.
The boss.
The lion let out a deafening roar, shaking the earth and calling its monstrous underlings to prepare for war. Trees rattled, birds scattered, and silence fell as beasts began to gather below their king.
Han just smiled.
"Let me show you," he whispered, "how a real jungle warrior fights."
He stepped forward, his body flickering—splitting. One became two. Two became four. Until twenty identical versions of Han stood around him.
Then, he took flight—levitating effortlessly above the jungle canopy.
His teeth sharpened into fangs, fingers stretching into claws. His pupils thinned like a predator's. Throwing his head back, he let out a roar—far deeper, far more primal than the lion's. Trees bent under the force. The sky trembled.
In his hand, a white blade of pure energy materialized. Below, his clones summoned various weapons—or prepared their bare hands. They all dropped into crouches, stances synchronized.
Han snapped his finger.
"First Jungle Art – Wolf Clutch."
Five clones grabbed the limbs of the beasts and with a deafening bang they crashed into the ground, their bones crushed into smithereens.
"Second – Panther Strike."
They moved like shadows, weaving between enemies with slicing precision.
"Third – Eagle Pulse."
Han himself dove, spiraling through the air, a sonic boom trailing his flight path as his blade pierced beast after beast.
"Fourth – Cheetah Stride."
His speed tripled. Blades flashed.
"Fifth – Gorilla Smash."
Three clones leapt into the air and landed with seismic force, crushing a line of enemies under their fists.
"Sixth – Snake Curl."
Two Han's slithered through enemy ranks, twisting around foes, constricting and snapping bones with terrifying grace.
"Seventh – Mantis Slice."
They struck and vanished before the enemy could blink.
"Eighth – Bear Grasp."
Some clones seized a rhino-beast and hurled it like a ragdoll.
"Ninth – Crocodile Clamp."
With an almighty clamp from upper leg and lower leg one clone crushed a beast head into splinters.
"Tenth – Falcon Dive."
Han shot down like a meteor, crashing into the jungle floor and creating a crater.
"Eleventh – Turtle Shield."
A massive wind barrier formed around his hands, deflecting all attacks as they regrouped.
"Twelfth – Hyena Rush."
Laughing wildly, a group of Han's moved in unpredictable bursts, tearing through the confused enemy lines.
"Thirteenth – Rhino Break."
A charge so strong it split the ground open.
"Fourteenth – Tiger Punch."
Han's fist ignited in raw energy as he launched himself toward the lion boss.
BOOM!
A shockwave exploded out as he punched the lion square in the chest.
What followed was a symphony of destruction. The jungle shook, monsters wailed, and in less than ten minutes, silence returned.
Han stood on top of the lion's corpse, completely calm.
Meanwhile, on Aiden and Clara's side—
Clara's eye twitched as she stared at Aiden. He didn't look like himself anymore. Two thick, sharp tusks jutted from his back, and his skin had taken on a rugged, armored texture. At his feet lay the mangled corpse of a massive boar-man, clearly the Portal Boss. It had taken them a grueling amount of time to bring it down, but Aiden had ultimately prevailed—and absorbed its DNA.
"He's becoming more of a monster by the day," Clara muttered dryly, still catching her breath.
Aiden stood there silently, eyes gleaming with newfound power. His ability—Morph—was evolving him at a terrifying pace.
Clara studied Aiden. As monstrous as his ability was, she knew one thing for certain.
Han was the real freak.
A moment later, the two emerged from the portal's depths and spotted Han casually waiting for them. His clothes were lightly bloodstained, but his expression calm—unbothered. From the looks of it, he'd cleared his portal ages ago.
Without a word, the trio began walking off, chatting like they'd just returned from a picnic, not a life-threatening dungeon.
The crowd that had gathered outside the portals could only stare in disbelief.
"They're… alive?" one man gasped.
"No, not just alive," another whispered. "They cleared both yellow portals... and they're barely even injured."
The silence was deafening until the old man finally regained his composure. He turned to the stunned official beside him, who still hadn't closed his mouth.
"What guild are they from?" he asked.
The man blinked, finally snapping out of his shock. "I believe… the Tryst Guild."
The old man's eyes gleamed. "Good. Contact them. Every time a portal opens, I want them to cleared it."
The man nodded as they both watched the trio disappear into the city—casual, relaxed, as if they hadn't just rewritten the rules.
_ _ _
"So, what's the craziest thing you've ever done?" Clara turned to Han, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
They had been trading insane stories. Aiden had once robbed an entire theft syndicate—just to return the stolen money to the victims. Clara? She sabotaged her older brother's date just because he didn't buy her a headset.
Han leaned back, thinking. Then, with a shrug, he said,
"I once jumped into a blue portal."
They both stared at him.
"My friend threw in my favorite comic—Metal Burst Man, limited edition. I didn't even hesitate. I chased it." He paused. "Ran for hours in a world that wanted me dead. Everything felt wrong. Twisted. Gravity, sound, even time. I was seconds away from dying before the elders found me and dragged me out."
Aiden and Clara gawked.
"You're insane," Clara said.
"You went into a death portal… for a comic book?" Aiden asked.
Han just nodded.
"Worth it."
Aiden exhaled. "I don't think anyone could top that."
"If someone did… they're probably not alive to tell it." Clara added.
---
Somewhere on the Middle Continent…
A heavily fortified structure loomed beneath stormy skies. The word A.R.C. was engraved atop its cold steel gates — Awakened Reinforcement Containment. The prison for awakened villains too dangerous to stay in normal villain prisons.
Inside, two guards in white uniforms strode down a long corridor toward a sealed chamber at the far end.
"Why is this guy locked up like a Class S threat?" one asked. "He's only B-ranker, right?"
"That's what the records say," the second replied, uneasily. "But rumors say he killed three Class A heroes. Alone."
"Bullshit. The power gap between B and A isn't small. They're overhyping him."
The reinforced doors hissed open.
Chains hung from every direction, crisscrossing around a single prisoner suspended in midair. Unlike the others who could move freely in their cells, he was bound—arms outstretched, ankles locked, head bowed, short black hair swaying gently.
The red-haired guard sneered.
"Hey, monster. Enjoying your nap?"
The prisoner didn't respond.
The redhead stepped closer, taunting, spitting insult after insult. The prisoner remained motionless, like a dormant beast.
"Just put him back to sleep," the green-haired one muttered. "He's not worth—"
Then the figure spoke. His voice was calm. Cold.
"You're nothing but a masquerade... dancing for attention. If I weren't bound, you'd already be dead."
The red-haired man growled and activated his skill. Dozens of metal thorns burst from his arm.
"Let's test that theory."
"No, don't—!" the green-haired man shouted.
Too late.
The thorns flew.
With a barely visible motion, the prisoner raised his head. His eyes snapped open—sharp, calculating.
He moved.
Fast.
The chains groaned. Metal pins clanged in midair. He struck them—not to block, but to redirect—turning them mid-flight like a maestro conducting a deadly orchestra. Several shot into the tech core embedded in the wall.
BZZT.
Alarms blared. The containment system short-circuited.
Chains loosened.
The figure twisted—once, twice—and the bindings shattered. He landed smoothly. Effortlessly. No wasted motion.
"Stop him!" the redhead barked, launching another barrage of blades.
The prisoner weaved through the attacks, his body moving like water. A cluster of metal pins screamed through the air, aimed straight for the prisoner's chest.
For a split second, it looked like he was done for—
Then he shifted.
One leg slid forward. His torso twisted, just enough.
The pins sliced past him, close enough to graze fabric—but never skin.
The red-haired officer froze, stunned.
"What the hell…?"
His voice was barely a whisper.
"What kind of freak is this guy?"
They chased him deeper through the corridor until finally—
A dead end.
The redhead grinned, thinking the hunt was over.
"Nowhere left to run," he said, ready to attack.
But beside him, the green-haired man was trembling.
"What's wrong with you?" the redhead asked, frowning.
The green-haired man swallowed.
"You really don't know who he is, do you?"
"What's there to know? He's just a B-ranker with attitude."
The green-haired man shook his head.
"If he gets a weapon… we're done. Only Class A heroes stand a chance then."
The red-haired man scoffed—until his eyes landed on the figure again.
He was holding two rusted steel pipes.
"That's not a weapon, that's junk," the redhead muttered—then stopped talking altogether.
Because the figure had begun grinding the pipes together.
Sparks flew.
Metal shrieked.
He didn't just sharpen them—he shaped them. With steady hands, he turned scrap into sleek, short spears, their tips gleaming with lethal promise.
Then he raised his eyes.
Cold.
Focused.
The kind of eyes that didn't flinch, hesitate, or forgive.
The figure crossed the twin weapons in front of him.
And in a low, chilling tone, he said two words:
"Let's roll."
To be continued…