"What do you want most in life?" Most people would say money. Some would say girls. A few might whisper love. Me? I just want to be someone. I'm average—average height, average build, average face—even my name is John.
All my life, I've lived unnoticed, fading into the background. Not even my own father saw any worth in me. One day, he just left without a word, abandoning my mother and me.
After that, Mom became my entire world. She was the reason I woke up every morning. She was the reason I kept breathing, kept moving forward.
And now… cancer.
I fought so hard to stay strong for her, clinging desperately to hope even as her strength faded day by day.
But now that she's slipping away, I feel lost. What am I supposed to do next? Maybe there is no "next."
Maybe this is it. If you'd asked me thirty seconds ago what I wanted most, I would've said—I want my mother to live. I'd trade anything, even my own life, just to see her smile one more time.
She lay on the hospital bed, frail and small, her skin pale and translucent beneath harsh fluorescent lights.
Her breaths were faint, barely stirring the thin sheets. I held her hand—once warm, comforting, now fragile like porcelain. She used to be beautiful, vibrant, full of life. But cancer had robbed her of that. It had taken everything from us.
Everything had collapsed when she got sick. My father had promised to stay, to help her fight. But when she reached for him in desperation, begging him to stay by her side, he turned away.
I still remember how she cried, pleading for him to stay, her tears streaming down a face that once held so much strength and dignity. And I remember him striking her—one last insult before he walked out the door and vanished forever.
That was the day I began to hate this cruel world.
The door opened softly, and the doctor stepped inside. His eyes were cold, distant, numbed by years of delivering unbearable news. He glanced at me briefly, then spoke in a voice devoid of emotion.
"The S-Rank Hero declined your request," he said flatly.
"The treatment costs ten billion dollars. There's no room for negotiation." I felt my heart sink, crushed by the weight of hopelessness. Of course. How could I ever have expected more from this world?
This was the world of heroes. It started about a hundred years ago. Gates appeared without warning, tearing open holes between our reality and worlds filled with unimaginable monsters.
Chaos erupted, threatening humanity itself. But alongside that disaster came power—some people awakened extraordinary abilities. The first generation of System Holders rose to defend humanity, pushing back monsters, sealing Gates, and restoring a fragile sense of normalcy.
Yet, the Gates never stopped appearing. More and more people continued to awaken supernatural abilities.
Some called these abilities blessings, others curses. Eventually, society adapted, and the League of Heroes was born: a powerful organization of superhumans who regulated those gifted individuals, battling monsters and protecting humanity.
Among them were heroes whose powers bordered on miracles—they could soar through the skies, incinerate entire cities, or even heal wounds and diseases. A precious few even possessed the power to cure cancer.
But those miracles were scarce, tightly controlled, available only to the wealthiest, the most powerful, those at the top.
As for the rest of us, people like my mother and me? We were forgotten, left behind, forced to watch helplessly as those we loved slipped away. Quietly. Silently. Meaninglessly.
My mother squeezed my hand gently, pulling me back to her bedside. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, struggling to focus. Her voice was faint, a gentle whisper that carried immeasurable warmth and sorrow. "Stay strong, John… and be happy." Her eyes held mine for one last moment, and I saw fear within them—fear she could no longer hide.
I wanted desperately to ask, "Mom, what are you so afraid of?" But before I could find the words, the harsh, cruel sound of the flatline filled the room.
A cold, unending tone. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces as the doctor quietly stepped forward, giving me a look he'd probably rehearsed hundreds of times. "I'm sorry," he murmured. And just like that, my mother was gone.
I wept silently at her bedside, feeling utterly alone in this unforgiving world.
Now, I stared numbly at my phone, at the notification blinking coldly on-screen: "New hospital bill: $401,000." Adding that to my student loans, debt I'd accumulated in pursuit of an engineering degree that promised a future I'd never reached—I was drowning beneath a million-dollar burden.
No job, no prospects, no hope. My life felt like an endless spiral into despair.
Why was I even still here? If I died right now, everything would disappear—my existence forgotten, my mother's struggles erased, all our pain rendered meaningless.
But if I kept living, all I could see was an eternity of debt, a future chained to endless work, stripped of meaning.
Would my mother truly want that life for me? She told me to be happy… But what if happiness meant freedom from this miserable existence? Would she forgive me for wanting that?
Lost in these dark thoughts, I wandered aimlessly through the city streets.
Then I saw her—a woman with black hair and red eyes crossing the street, laughing joyfully into her latest model phone, probably speaking to her group of friends while having family waiting at home.
Her voice overflowed with warmth, joy, and love. I wondered what it felt like to have such happiness.
Suddenly, time seemed to slow. A truck barreled through a red light, racing toward the unaware woman.
A scream caught in my throat. Without thinking, without hesitation, I sprinted forward. My body moved on instinct, pushing her out of harm's way.
I felt strangely calm. I wasn't afraid of dying—not anymore.
Instead, my heart was heavy with guilt, apologizing silently to my mother for throwing my life away like this. Yet beneath that sadness was a quiet sense of relief.
If I had to go, at least I was leaving the world having done something worthwhile.
Maybe my family wasn't destined for a happy ending. But if this woman shared the story of how a stranger saved her life, perhaps I'd become a small part of someone else's happy tale.
That thought brought a faint smile to my lips.
Then—CRASH. The truck slammed violently forward—but not into me. Instead, metal buckled and twisted as if hitting an invisible barrier, flipping into the air before crashing down behind me with a deafening roar. Shocked, I stared down at my body. A single bruise marked my arm, small and insignificant.
"What…?"
[Ding!]
[Congratulations. You have been deemed worthy of being a Hero.]
[You have gained: Hero System.]