[7:00 A.M. – Alex vs. Responsibility: Round Infinity]
Alex lay face-down on the couch in Penny's apartment, a blanket over his head and a thermometer sticking out of his mouth at a suspiciously horizontal angle.
"I'm sick," he groaned. "Definitely too sick to battle today."
"You're holding an energy drink in the same hand as the thermometer," Penny said flatly.
"It's medicinal."
"You've never been sick a day in your life."
"Maybe this is emotional sickness."
Penny dragged the blanket off him and held up a Hero Ranking Board message on her tablet.
FINAL REMINDER: Evaluation Duel vs. Starblazer @ 10:00 A.M. Today.CANCELATION PENALTY: Public shaming + forfeiture of snack privileges.
Alex sat up slowly.
"…They know me too well."
[8:30 A.M. – The Arena Is a Mistake]
Justice Coliseum was packed.
Vendors sold 'Plot Armor: Casual God Mode' shirts, popcorn, and what might have been commemorative burritos.
A jumbotron played highlight reels of Starblazer incinerating meteors and punching evil mechs into the moon. Dramatic music played over grainy footage of Alex sneezing on a villain once and knocking out a block.
"He doesn't even try!" one fan shouted from the stands.
"He's revolutionary!" another screamed back.
Penny and Alex stood backstage.
She adjusted his hoodie like a stylist preparing a very tired celebrity.
"You sure you're okay?"
"I'm wearing mismatched socks and I'm not even sorry."
"Perfect. Keep that energy."
[9:55 A.M. – Starblazer's Entrance: Overkill Edition]
Flames erupted from the coliseum floor as Starblazer descended from the sky, wrapped in a comet of solar energy. He landed in a power pose that cracked the ground.
"Citizens!" he called out, his voice booming. "Today, I prove that effort matters! That training triumphs over luck!"
The crowd cheered.
Then the spotlight turned to Alex.
He wandered out onto the field sipping a smoothie.
Everyone stared.
"...Hi," he said into the mic.
The crowd went wild.
[10:00 A.M. – Let the "Battle" Begin]
A bell rang. The announcer screamed: "BEGIN!"
Starblazer blurred forward, fist charged with radiant heat.
Alex bent down to pick up a dropped french fry someone left on the field.
WHOOSH.
Starblazer missed. By inches.
Alex stood up. "Was that the warm-up or...?"
Starblazer gritted his teeth. "Let's see you dodge this!"
He unleashed a Solar Nova Spiral Barrage—fifty flaming projectiles arcing toward Alex.
Alex tried to wave down a vendor.
One of the projectiles hit a rogue nacho tray, ricocheted into the next, and then into Starblazer's own energy field, triggering an auto-shield malfunction.
Starblazer blinked. "What."
Then the sprinkler system went off.
[10:02 A.M. – The KO That Wasn't a KO Until It Was]
Alex slipped slightly on the wet floor.
Not dramatically.
Just a little skid.
Starblazer rushed in with his Justice Meteor Smash.
Alex tried to catch his balance.
His foot bumped a dropped microphone.
It slid.
Starblazer stepped on it, stumbled, spun 360 degrees, and—WHAM.—headbutted the corner of the jumbotron platform.
The crowd went silent.
Starblazer groaned once… and passed out.
***
[10:05 A.M. – Everyone Loses Their Minds]
@HeroWatchLive:"HE WON BY EXISTING. AGAIN."
@StarblazerFansUnite:"We're filing a formal complaint with the cosmos."
@BurgerPatriot69:"That footwork? Genius. Absolute genius. 10/10."
***
[10:10 A.M. – Alex Gets a Trophy He Doesn't Want]
An official handed Alex a large gold medal that read:"CLASS A – NARRATIVE HAZARD"
Alex stared at it.
Then at the unconscious Starblazer.
Then at the sky.
"Is this… my life now?"
Penny appeared beside him. "Yup. And also, we have fans now."
Alex blinked. "We do?"
A group of kids in Plot Armor hoodies waved excitedly from the stands.
"...I don't hate that," he said.
Penny grinned. "Welcome to the spotlight, Legend."
***
[10:30 A.M. – Press Storm]
The press arrived before the confetti even stopped falling.
One moment Alex was holding a medal he didn't ask for. The next, there were at least a dozen floating drones in his face, each buzzing with the urgency of people who had no idea what they were reporting on—but knew it was important.
"Plot Armor! Did you anticipate the trajectory reversal of Starblazer's Nova Spiral?"
"What mental discipline allowed you to neutralize his Justice Meteor Smash with a sneeze?!"
"Is it true you trained under the Food Monk of Mount Snackmore?"
Alex looked directly into one of the lenses.
"I tripped on a microphone."
Gasps. Literal gasps.
"That's a metaphor, right?" a reporter whispered.
Penny wove through the crowd, grabbed his sleeve, and dragged him out of frame before he could answer. Behind them, three analysts began arguing over whether "microphone" was symbolic of divine insight or just a very unlucky piece of AV equipment.
***
[11:00 A.M. – Hideout / Penny's Apartment / Sanctum of Sanity]
Back on her couch, Alex stared at the ceiling.
"Do you think if I fall asleep now, they'll forget I exist before dinner?"
Penny was pacing again, tablet in hand, surrounded by floating windows of data. Social feeds. News broadcasts. Meme compilations. A suspiciously detailed fanfic page.
"No chance," she said. "You've already been nominated for Hero of the Quarter, got five sponsorship offers, and there's a burger chain in Sector 7 rebranding as 'Armor Grill.'"
Alex groaned and pulled the blanket over his face. "Why is being impressive so exhausting when I didn't even do anything?"
"Because that's exactly what's freaking people out," Penny said. "You've disrupted the natural order. The audience can't tell if you're a genius or a cosmic accident."
"...Can't it be both?"
She paused.
"Honestly? Probably."
***
[11:30 A.M. – Elsewhere: The Hero Board Implodes (Figuratively… This Time)]
The Hero Ranking Board's emergency conference was in full chaos mode. Holographic charts floated like constellations over the room, tracking public opinion, statistical influence waves, and an entirely unnecessary animated recreation of the fight.
"He sneezed," one official repeated for the third time.
"And tripped," said another.
"I want to be very clear," said a third, holding up a data pad. "Our Class A tier is supposed to represent elite-level control over power and outcome. Not—" he jabbed the screen, "—narrative unpredictability masquerading as combat prowess."
A pause.
Then the intern spoke up, again. The same one who had the gall to suggest Alex be observed last time.
"Actually… if you graph his survival events against causality threads, he doesn't disrupt order. He stabilizes it. Just in the dumbest way possible."
Silence.
Then, one by one, they all slowly nodded.
"Fine," sighed the chairperson. "Let's just give him a subcategory. Call him a... Narrative Hazard."
"And if he keeps winning?"
"...Hope the merch sells."
***
[1:00 P.M. – Back at Class WTF]
"I heard he vaporized Starblazer with a finger snap," Mistopher said.
Cryflame nodded solemnly. "It was a psychic sneeze. I felt it in my spleen."
Alex entered the room holding a sandwich and a soda.
"Guys, he tripped," Voidica said. "We all watched the stream."
"That's what the government wants you to think," said the sentient textbook from a shelf.
Alex sat down.
"I hate being famous," he muttered.
The whole class stared.
Cryflame raised a hand. "Can I have your autograph?"
Alex blinked.
"On my forehead?"
Alex blinked again.
"...We'll circle back to that."
***
[2:00 P.M. – A Shadow Moves]
In a space between pages, behind the folds of plot and pacing, a man in a red-lined black coat watched footage of the duel on infinite mirrored screens.
His tea was untouched. His expression unreadable.
"So they gave him a rank," Redline murmured.
He tapped the edge of the screen. It warped.
"Sloppy narrative. Lazy escalation. And now he's accelerating—without awareness. Without arc. Without weight."
He stood, the room shivering around him as if terrified of being edited.
"I'll fix it," he said. "Not by erasing him. But by giving him something he's never had."
A pause.
"A story."
***
[2:30 P.M. – HeroNet Live: Civil War in the Comments Section]
The moment the Hero Board officially published Alex's new title—Narrative Hazard, Class A (Unclassified Subtype)—the internet exploded harder than a mecha at a motivational speech.
@VirtueNation:"This is a slap in the face to every real hero who trained for years."
@PlotApologists:"He IS training! Emotionally! Probably."
@TheRealStarblazer:[This post has been deleted.]
@FanficQueenLOL:"He's the glitch. The myth. The burrito legend."
@420NoScopeJustice:"Bro tanked a missile with a milkshake. Let him cook."
Even the algorithm was confused—one second promoting Alex's face with the caption "Savior of the System?" and the next labeling him "Structural Threat: Watchlisted."
Alex sat at Penny's desk, watching it all happen in real-time.
He looked mildly concerned.
But mostly just tired.
"Do you think if I pretend to be a background character, they'll forget me?" he asked.
Penny didn't look up. "You tripped into national relevance. You can't background your way out of that."
"Counterpoint," he said, "I could wear glasses and change my hoodie."
***
[3:00 P.M. – Hero HQ: Official Response (Kind of)]
Inside the shining, spotless tower of the League of Conveniently Powerful People, the League Council was in session. Mostly yelling.
The leader, Lady Vector, paced with her cape flaring dramatically even when there was no wind.
"Plot Armor has made a mockery of the Evaluation Trials," she said. "He disrespected tradition. He disrespected structure. He disrespected the sacred flame of effort."
"Technically, he didn't do anything," said Knight Bracket, polishing his sword, which was just a giant punctuation mark. "The universe did it for him."
"Exactly," Lady Vector snapped. "Which is worse!"
"Should we invite him in?" someone dared to ask.
Everyone turned. Silence thickened.
Vector's eye twitched.
"No," she said. "We'll test him. Properly. Send him into a scenario where luck alone won't save him."
She smiled.
And somewhere, a disaster began loading.
***
[3:15 P.M. – Class WTF Reacts (Badly, As Expected)]
"You're officially more powerful than half the League," Mistopher said, floating upside-down with nervous energy.
"That's… deeply wrong," Alex replied.
Cryflame clutched his chest. "Does this mean we're a real hero team now?!"
Voidica floated over and looked Alex dead in the eyes. "They're going to push you. You realize that, right? They won't accept luck as strength. They'll want to break it."
"I'm unbreakable," Alex said with zero enthusiasm.
"No," she said. "But you're a wildcard in a game of archetypes. That scares them."
Alex stared at her. "...You practiced that line in the mirror, didn't you?"
"Yes. Did it land?"
"It did."
***
[4:00 P.M. – Penny's Discovery]
Back in her lair, Penny pieced together satellite feeds, security cam glitches, and data anomalies.
It wasn't just the duel.
Something had changed.
The moment Alex received his rank, five minor villain factions disbanded. Two support characters vanished from social media. One sidekick from another series dropped out of his arc entirely.
The system was rebalancing.
Penny stared at the pattern. It spiraled out like plot threads being yanked into place.
She tapped her screen. Froze the moment it all started.
A single frame flickered on her display.
A red-lined figure watching from the edge of the coliseum.
She zoomed in.
Redline.
"Found you," she whispered.
***
[4:15 P.M. – A New Invitation (Because They Won't Let Him Nap)]
A letter arrived.
Physical. Hand-delivered.
That alone was suspicious.
Alex opened it one-handed while eating chips with the other.
Dear Plot Armor,
You are cordially invited to appear as a guest on "Heroes, Unmasked," the most-watched hero commentary show in the multiverse.
Your recent duel has prompted a global conversation.
We invite you to respond… live.
At the bottom, in gold ink:
"After all, every protagonist needs a moment of truth."
Alex looked up.
"I'm gonna be on TV."
Penny didn't respond.
She was still staring at Redline's blurry face on her screen, chills crawling up her spine.
"...And they're going to try to spin a narrative."
***
[7:00 P.M. – Heroes, Unmasked: Studio 7 (Somewhere Between Dimensions)
The studio was an impossible fusion of glowing tech and unnecessary drama. Holo-screens displayed live viewer comments. The floor reflected things even when you weren't standing on it.
Alex sat at the end of a curved couch, fidgeting with a can of off-brand soda.
To his left sat Ten-chi, the prodigy strategist—ten years old, suit immaculate, eyes like a Bond villain crossed with a debate club captain.
To his right sat a sentient sword, floating upright, its blade glowing faintly. The hilt moved when it talked. Its nameplate read:
"Steelheart: 1,002 confirmed kills. Also writes poetry."
Across from them, the host—a dangerously enthusiastic man named Skip Sparkleblast—beamed like this was the best day of his life.
"WELCOME BACK to HEROES, UNMASKED!" he screamed, throwing his arms up as the studio audience whooped.
"We've got three incredibly controversial guests today, and I couldn't be more excited! First up, the living trope tornado himself… PLOT ARMOR!"
Alex gave a half wave.
"Hi. I didn't agree to any of this."
The crowd lost it.
***[7:05 P.M. – The Agenda Begins]
"So, Plot Armor," Skip Sparkleblast began, turning to him like a laser pointer. "You've gone from total unknown to Class A in, what, two weeks?"
"Feels like two years," Alex muttered.
"Let's address the elephant in the timeline: How are you winning fights without fighting?"
Alex opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked into the camera.
"I don't know."
Skip blinked. "Sorry?"
"I. Don't. Know. I try to avoid problems. They punch themselves. I wanted to be a side character. Now I have merch."
The sword next to him hummed in confusion. "This is either divine comedy or cosmic injustice."
"Bit of both," Alex said.
***
[7:08 P.M. – The Debate Gets Weird]
Ten-chi leaned forward, speaking for the first time.
"You are a destabilizing variable. A non-combatant achieving victories through luck, narrative disruption, and probabilistic bias. Your existence breaks the competitive structure of heroism."
Alex blinked. "I'm sorry. Are you eleven?"
"Ten and a half," Ten-chi snapped. "But this is a real issue. If anyone can be Class A just by existing, then what's the point of training? Of sacrifice?"
Alex leaned back, sighing.
"Look, I didn't ask for any of this. I ordered a burger. Reality went nope, and now I can't walk outside without triggering a boss fight or a meme war."
Steelheart vibrated softly. "A reluctant blade dulls slower. But when it strikes, it cuts deepest."
Alex stared at the sword. "Was that... directed at me?"
"I'm not sure," Steelheart replied. "I'm processing a lot."
***
[7:15 P.M. – Live Audience Questions (Bad Idea)]
A fan question flashed across the screen:
Q: How does it feel knowing you're the most powerful hero alive but you still don't do leg day?
"...Accurate," Alex replied.
Another:
Q: Are you secretly a god or just extremely unlucky in a way that looks like luck?
"I prefer to think of myself as narratively inconvenient."
The crowd howled.
Ten-chi's eye twitched.
"You're undermining the entire ranking system," the boy prodigy snapped.
Alex looked straight into the camera.
"Then maybe the system was fragile to begin with."
The audience went quiet.
The studio did too.
Steelheart muttered, "Damn."
***
[7:20 P.M. – Backlash Begins (Again)]
Penny watched the stream from her lair, surrounded by open chat feeds. One of them caught fire. Metaphorically. Another one may have done so literally.
@HeroDebateLive:"Plot Armor just broke the fourth wall and the system. He's dangerous."
@PlotProtectionSquad:"He's just vibing. Let him live."
@SideCharacterAnon:"I was happy until he made us all feel disposable."
@RedlineSighted?A blurry photo of a man in a red-lined coat, watching the studio from a nearby rooftop.
Penny's eyes widened.
"He's here," she whispered.
***
[7:25 P.M. – The Glitch Moment]
Back in the studio, the lights flickered.
Alex sat up a little.
The air got thick.
The crowd murmured. Screens stuttered. Static bled into the edge of the frame.
Skip Sparkleblast looked around. "Uh... folks? Looks like we're having a bit of a tech issue—"
Then everything froze.
Everyone.
Except Alex.
And one man in red.
Redline stood beside the stage now, unseen by the audience, except for Alex—because reality wanted him to see.
"You're becoming too real," Redline said calmly. "Too rooted. The people are watching you for the wrong reasons."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "And you want to fix that?"
"I want to correct the imbalance."
"I am the imbalance."
Redline stepped closer.
"You're not supposed to be."
A snap of fingers.
Time resumed.
Redline vanished.
Alex exhaled—slowly.
Steelheart vibrated. "Did you feel that?"
Alex nodded. "Something editorial this way comes."
***
[7:30 P.M. – Post-Interview Debrief (or: Existential Fries)
The segment ended. The crowd dispersed. The hosts high-fived themselves.
Alex sat on the empty stage, a cold burger in one hand.
Penny appeared beside him, breathless, tablet in one hand and conspiracy in her eyes.
"You saw him."
"Yeah."
"Do you know what this means?"
"That I'll never get through a whole meal in peace again?"
She smacked his shoulder. "Alex, this means we're in the rewrite arc. The Editors aren't just watching anymore. They're interacting. And they're testing the public's tolerance of you."
"Cool, cool," he said. "How long do we have before they try to delete me again?"
Penny checked her screen.
"...About three chapters, tops."
Alex sighed.
"Better eat while I can, then."