They say death is the end.
But that's a lie told by the living to comfort themselves.
Because the truth is—death is only the beginning.
I remember the moment I died.
It wasn't some glorious blaze of heroism or a noble sacrifice for a cause greater than myself.
No. It was slow. Cold.
I drowned in a fear so thick it wrapped around my lungs and whispered lullabies to my heart until it stopped beating.
And then I opened my eyes again.
New world. New rules. New life.
This was a world of quirks—powers granted to some by chance, others by blood, and very few by fate.
Heroes rise like demigods, worshipped by society.
Villains crawl in the shadows, whispered about in fear.
And I? I use the line between heroes and villains like a jump rope.
I wasn't given some overpowered gift. No divine destiny carved my name into the sky.
All I got was a whisper of a quirk, a faint ripple in a sea of storms... or at least that's what I thought at first.
Pathetic, right?
And yet… I refuse to die again.
You see, I'm not chasing justice. I'm not chasing fame.
I'm chasing power. Pure, absolute power.
Not because I want to stand on top of the world—But because I want to bury the fear that still claws at my spine every time I close my eyes.
They'll call me immature. Reckless. Maybe even villainous.
Let them.
Because I know something they don't.
Those who fear death the most are the ones who truly want to live.
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[PROLOGUE END]
A/N: The protagonist may come off as edgy at first, but give him time. Trauma has a way of sculpting people into strange shapes. If you find any plot holes, please comment and help refine the world.
Genre: Action | Adventure | Slice of Life