"Everybody wants superpowers, including Alden Thorne.

But even if he's lucky enough to be one of the few humans to be granted magical abilities by alien systems that have been operating on Earth for decades, his goal of becoming a battlefield support hero is still a long way off. Leave.

He has determination, and maybe a murderous alien front desk attendant.

The universe is a complex place. Alden is about to run into it. I'm writing this because I wanted to read a character-driven superhero origin story from the beginning. I also wanted to write as thoughtfully as possible about systems and aliens. It's grown a bit from my original vision and continues to grow. But the core is still the same.

If you decide to ride together, thank you! I had a great time here. I hope you will too. 》

One: The boy in the bubble

He woke up to the smell of blood and intense, terrible pain. His ears rang. His head hurts. His bare boobs pressed against the carpet his parents had installed in their new apartment a week earlier.

It still smells funny. Gelatinous and artificial.

"Daddy!" He screamed. "Mom!"

Blood flowed from his mouth onto the carpet. One of his arms was stuck under him, unable to move. Something pierced the side of his abdomen. It hurts.

It hurts so much.

He called his parents again. But his own voice sounded strange. Faraway.

On the floor around him, shards of glass glistened in the orange glow of his night light. There was wind in the room.

The window must have been broken, but he couldn't see it from here.

He looked around as far as he could, and found the chubby, smiling Umi lying beside him. Half of the stuffed wombats were covered by quilts scattered around the bed.

He sobbed and grabbed Umi with his intact arm and grabbed his ear. At their feet, the building shook. Fire alarms began to sound.

Suddenly, there was a low roar. When the world around him exploded, the boy felt a sharp pain in his ears. Something — someone — blew through the exterior wall of his bedroom. The ceiling collapsed. Large chunks of concrete flew through the air like cannonballs.

The boy's face was pressed against the floor, and nothing was seen.

But he felt small pieces of rubble hit his back. Then, when the mattress on his bed fell on him, he felt a suffocating weight. The pain from what had pierced him in the side spread throughout his body, spasming every muscle.

He screamed as loudly as he could. In response, all he heard was the terrible crash and an endless high-pitched wail.

Something heavy fell on the mattress. Air was squeezed out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

I'm going to die. I'm going to die. Help.

Death is painful.

It was too dark at the time.

He wanted his mother. He wanted to...

###

Light.

The boy didn't know what was going on. Maybe he's passed out. Maybe he was hit in the head and his memory is hard to keep. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was awake by now and that there was light around him. A translucent sphere surrounded him, glittering like bubbles filled with silver stars.

He was suspended inside the bubble and his body was frozen. He tried to twitch his fingers or turn his head. But his mind was the only part of his body that could move, and it seemed to be slower than it should be.

There is no pain. He couldn't even blink, but his eyes didn't feel dry.

He and Bubbles spun slowly in place. And that place is...... Where is he?

There were so many wrecks in the room that he gradually recognized it as his own. A large hole in the wall shows the ruins of a building. The night is filled with smoke, dust, and red and white glow.

Fire-fighting lights, he thought.

There is a station near their apartment. He loved watching the trucks drive by on the streets below.

"It's exciting, man," his father always said. "But remember to pray for the people they are going to help."

His father was a pastor. His mother had just gotten a job as a nurse at the Atonan Nursing Home. The son of a priest and a dedicated nurse should pray for all sorts of things. It's important, but sometimes he forgets.

Dear God, he now thinks, slowly spinning with the bubbles. I think something bad happened. Please keep me and my family and Wummy safe. Please stay with the firefighters and don't let them get burned. Please take care of the person the firefighter is going to help.

Amen.

This is followed by an atonan chain that summons good luck from other worlds. He knew only a few of them, and only in English. Most people say it's useless, but his mother's boss says that any loyal intentions are fully rewarded.

My heart is genuinely calling out to the other person. Please forgive me your good luck in the moonlight tonight, and I will forgive you the same tomorrow.

He froze in place, unable to make a corresponding gesture. Hope it still helps.

As his bubble continues to spin, more shattered worlds come into view around him.

He could see through a wall in the bedroom to the main living area of the apartment. There is a zone of destruction in the center of the room. The wooden floor was torn and chipped. The sofa flipped on its side next to the breakfast counter, separating the kitchen from the study. The coffee table is gone.

The front door, as well as part of the surrounding wall, are also missing. Through the gap, he could see the hall. A dim emergency light bar near the ceiling illuminates the neighbor's door. Dark liquid splatters on light paint and shiny brass license plates.

The boy knew that something was very wrong. He remembered his fears. But now his fear was almost as suppressed as his pain, and as more and more disasters were revealed, he felt nothing but curiosity and a hint of unease.

There were some strange people in his room. The two of them.

No, three.

They leaned against the wall, next to a small bookcase decorated with animal stickers the day he and his mother moved in.

First, he noticed their clothes. The woman, with brown hair braided like a crown on her head, and wearing military boots and clothes that looked like a blue biker jacket, shimmered and undoubtedly flashed true magic. She crouched next to a seated man with black hair and a sculpted beard. He wears an equally dark blue armored jumpsuit.

There was no visible flicker of magic on his body, but there was a mark carved into the chest of the suit.

They're superheroes, the boy thought. True.

The excitement inside him stirred up briefly, then calmed down again.

The man shook his head while crying, looking down at his trembling palms as if they didn't belong to him. The woman reached out to him and bit her lip. He jerked away.

The third stranger lay motionless on the floor at their feet. He was a teenager, the boy thought, even though it was hard to discern in the flickering lights. He was wearing a black hoodie and his pale face was staring at the ceiling without blinking.

Is he frozen as much as I am?

But no. The person wearing the hoodie is not inside the silver bubble. He lay on the carpet, and as his body became clearer, the boy found that his body was almost torn in half.

Fear rose and filled him, but disappeared like someone had pulled the plug.

The man pointed to the corpse with a pained expression. His mouth was wide open, as if shouting. But inside the bubble, there was no sound.

The woman also looked at the miserable boy. The expression is serious and sad. She reached out and gently closed the dead boy's eyes.

She closed her door and said something.

Maybe she's praying too.

Then, she stood up. As she spoke, she looked up at the boy in the bubble. Their eyes met. She seemed surprised and uneasy, then took a deep breath and rushed towards him with a big smile on her face.

It's a smirk, he thought.

It's the smile adults use when trying to convince you that things aren't as bad as they really are. The one they wore before giving you the injection at the doctor's office.

The smiling woman stood between him and the corpse, then took out a small piece of paper and a marker from her jacket. She wrote something and held it up for him to read. The print is clear and large.

Don't be afraid. We're here to help you.

She gave him plenty of time to read, and she wrote on a new page.

My name is Hannah. My friend is Arjun.

He was a little disappointed that they had their real names. Many superheroes use codenames, but not all.

I'll cover your bubbles. Then we will take you to a safe place.

My name is Alden, he thought. Where? Where are my parents? Will they be there?

But he couldn't speak.

Hannah smiled reluctantly at Alden and gave her a thumbs up. Then, she bent down and knelt on the floor. After a while, she suddenly stood up again and hugged Wummy. She unzipped her jacket and carefully tucked the wombat inside, then zipped it up again, allowing his smiling face to peek out from under her chin.

She gave the bubbles a thumbs up again.

When Alden bent down again, she caught a glimpse of Arjun and the nameless dead boy. The superhero's face is obscured by a trembling hand. Then a blanket – Alden's own quilt, stained with blood – was thrown onto the entire silver bubble.

He couldn't see anything anymore.