Under the gentle dawn light, Mai jogged through the weathered streets of Outer Wall, where mottled walls and slanted rooftops told tales of a bygone era.
Her faded silver-gray tracksuit clung to her frame, worn but neat, accentuating her graceful figure. Her jet-black ponytail swayed with each step, a few loose strands brushing her forehead, highlighting her striking face and bright eyes.
Passersby—delivery boys to old men playing chess—couldn't help but turn their heads.
Mai paused at a convenience store, its glass doors sliding open to greet her with a rush of cool air. Inside, bright white lights illuminated shelves stocked with snacks, drinks, and compact household items.
Mai smiled faintly, marveling again at this new world. This was just the "slums," as city folks derided, yet it was tidier and cleaner than any street from her old world.
A single small store like this had everything—fresh milk, bread, even exotic spice packets. She glided through the aisles, swiftly picking up rice flour, tapioca starch, wood ear mushrooms, some greens, ground meat, and a few slices of ham, mentally reviewing the recipe she'd learned from TikTop before bed.
At the checkout, the young cashier stared, his eyes a mix of curiosity and shyness. When Mai glanced up, he hurriedly looked down, fumbling with the scanner.
She didn't mind; such looks had become familiar lately. Her reputation—or rather, infamy—had spread after a viral clip online.
The clip showed her in a textbook-perfect shooting stance, firing seven shots in rapid succession, followed by a cut to Inferno Knuckle taking all seven bullets to the back, captioned "Sidekick Kick the Side." Comments flooded in:
[Bro fr?? Sidekick really side-kicked fr 😭👏]
[Promotion 101: clap the hero and steal the spotlight 🤡🔥]
[If I were Knuckle: I'd be lawyered up rn fr 🧑⚖️💀]
[Sidekick speedrun to main role any% 😎⚡]
Mai smirked, recalling those comments. Her smile in the morning light made the cashier blush and freeze, even as she grabbed her bag and left the store.
Speaking of Knuckle, he'd called a few days ago to check in, promising to explain that her shooting him in the back was to help him break through, though he didn't fully grasp the mechanics himself.
He'd tried clarifying on Quirkter and in interviews, but the public only saw him as being kind, protecting his "junior." It annoyed him, but Mai just told him not to worry about it and make a visit old man Nite's clinic if he had time.
She intended to fully unlock his meridians, since last time she'd only hastily opened a temporary cycle in his back. Knuckle seemed busy, though, working on a test to rank up to E-rank hero and dealing with other issues. He'd mentioned considering joining the military. Being a hero alone wasn't enough to tackle Outer Wall's complex problems, so he was thinking of dipping into politics, and the military seemed the best path for someone like him.
In old man Nite's small but tidy kitchen, sunlight streamed through the window onto a polished wooden table. Ingredients were neatly laid out: rice flour, tapioca, ground meat, mushrooms, ham, and a basket of bean sprouts and herbs.
Mai tied back her ponytail, sleeves rolled up, and whisked the flour into a smooth batter. On the stove, onions and meat sizzled, mushrooms followed, filling the air with a savory aroma. She set the finished filling aside, then brushed oil over another pan and poured in the batter, spreading it thin.
Steam rose as each sheet softened; with steady hands, she spooned the fragrant filling into the center and folded it closed, stacking neat rolls one after another. Once, she hummed a cheerful tune, her eyes sparkling with focus, as if the tiny kitchen were her private stage.
At last, a plate of rice rolls gleamed on the table, garnished with herbs and bean sprouts, beside a bowl of chili-flecked fish sauce.
Straightening up, Mai wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, sunlight catching the flour dust on her slender fingers. A faint smile crossed her lips, pleased with her work.
The kitchen now brimmed with the aroma of the food, rousing old man Nite from his sleep. He stood watching, struck by Shadow's youthful, vibrant energy while cooking—so different from her usual quiet demeanor. For a moment, he thought his granddaughter had returned, but he knew better.
When Mai's eyes met his, old man Nite shuffled into the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back, voice slightly awkward. "What's that smell?" He still wasn't used to Shadow's presence in this body, though he tried.
Mai smiled, setting the plates on the table. "You should get used to calling me Mai, Grandpa. These are Steamed Rice Rolls, a specialty from an Asian nation. Couldn't find their proper Steamed Pork Ham, so I used our usual ham instead." She gestured to the soft, white rice rolls flecked with meat and mushrooms, flanked by bean sprouts, herbs, cucumber, and a light fish sauce dip with red chili slices.
It took old man Nite a moment to recall what "Asian nation" meant. The term "nation" was archaic, used to distinguish origins in a world long past such divisions. Before the Great Invasion, there were many continents and nations, but afterward, most governments collapsed. Humanity barely survived until the first generation of superpowered individuals fought back. Now, only two major powers remained: the Federation and the Empire.
Old man Nite sat down, took a small bite, and his eyes lit up. The roll melted on his tongue, savory meat and mushrooms blending with the tangy fish sauce. He let out a low sigh of delight.
"Mm… soft, easy to chew. Perfect," he chuckled, warmth in his voice. Bite after bite, he ate slowly yet with relish, until his stomach was full. Setting down his fork, he sighed contentedly.
"Haven't tasted something this good in years."
Mai was pleased with the meal too, thinking she'd try making Steamed Pork Ham next time. She handed old man Nite a cup of hot tea, poured herself cold tea over ice, and they sat together in the morning sun on the porch.
Mai scrolled through news on her phone, a new habit. This world, to her, was a wondrous maze. A single tap revealed everything: from grand events to trivial details, all within a tiny screen.
She skimmed an article about A-rank hero Gentle-Man, who had singed part of his perfect mustache while closing a B-rank Gate. A faint smile crossed her lips—this world made even such trifles headlines. It reminded her of the tavern brawl where miners argued over whether Hero had leg hair, instead of praising his defeat of a high-ranking demon.
Another article described a superhero in Flooriddle, his face blurred, who had hurled an alligator through a Windy's drive-thru after a pretty cashier coldly rejected his request to "order a smile." "That pickup line's ancient—totally lame," she had reportedly said, which was enough to send him into a rage. Mai shook her head, wondering if this world would ever stop surprising her.
News of the F-rank—actually E-rank—Gate battle in Lost Angel faded quickly. Despite its intensity, it was a minor event in an unremarkable city, with no major damage to hold public attention.
A photo from the battle showed Solstice, Evermoss, and Inferno Knuckle together. Solstice exuded arrogance, Evermoss smiled gently, and Knuckle gave a stiff thumbs-up, clearly forced.
The video of Mai and Knuckle's teamwork to defeat Silvermane went viral briefly—cross-rank victories were rare—but as one comment noted, "it's still just a low-rank fight." It fizzled out faster than Mai's "Sidekick Kick the Side" meme.
It's easy to lose track of time when using a phone—even for someone with Mai's extraordinary self-control. All these new things could easily draw her in if she wasn't careful.
But then her phone buzzed, reminding her it was study hour. Mai smiled—this was another feature she loved, one that helped her keep on schedule.
Mai closed the news app and opened a document, The Federal Code, which took ages to load on her outdated phone.
As Lost Angel was under Federation control, Mai's recent focus was Federation law.
Adapting to this world meant understanding its rules, and laws were like a society's blueprint, revealing its values, fears, and power structures.
This new world, with its information explosion, surpassed anything she'd imagined. In her old world, learning required scouring ancient books or begging scholars.
Here, a phone granted access to nearly everything—laws, history, Gate operations, even Vorn Rot, the disease plaguing old man Nite. Core knowledge still lay in research institutes or major organizations, but for now, this was enough.
"Money is good"—that was General's favorite saying. His main job was fighting battles, yet nearly all of his catchphrases revolved around money.
To run a massive war machine with monsters like Hero—or eccentric researchers like Necromancer—cost a fortune.
Even though the Great Expedition was carried out with global support—funded, of course, by ordinary citizens—those very citizens lived harsh lives, so the General never felt entirely at ease spending that money.
If money could be earned independently, the General preferred it. Funds from the rear always came with receipts, paperwork, and headaches. When Accountant fell ill, Mai was forced to take over by the General, who said, "Don't play dumb—I've seen you glued to him, no doubt you've wrung every last drop of math out of that poor fellow."
Learning how to split copper coins in half just to bargain with merchants left her with her own lingering obsession about money. Mai swore it was the most miserable time of her life—even fighting the Demon Lord hadn't been that bad.
Mai sat on a rickety iron chair, legs crossed in feigned ease, yet her cold, predatory gaze pinned the man before her—the way one might eye a pot of gold waiting to be claimed.
Across from her was Carroway, producer of the A Day as a Sidekick show—a paunchy man in a crumpled vest, his thinning hair slicked back with too much gel.
Leaning against the table, arms crossed, he tried to exude authority with a scornful glare. "Don't expect a single cent," he growled. He jabbed a finger at Mai and sneered, "You barely did anything! Stumbled into frame, got swatted by a monster, and lay there like a prop. The others had to retreat to drag you out, wasting a whole day's shoot. My show nearly got canceled because of you, and you want payment?" He snorted, lips curling into a mocking smile. "Don't waste my time, kid."
Mai didn't blink. Her fingers tapped the chair arm in steady rhythm, like a clock ticking in the silence. Another Goldvale trick to make her bow her head—but this time, the players had changed. She was no longer the naïve sixteen-year-old girl, but Shadow, who had faced hundreds of battles across negotiation tables against cunning merchants and sly nobles. A faint, dangerous smile curved her lips, chilling the air.
"You sure, Carroway?" Her voice was soft, almost sweet. "Because I'm thinking… maybe I'll sue."
Carroway's laugh was sharp and hollow, as if mocking the world at his feet. He stood taller, his shadow swallowing Mai's chair, trying to dwarf her. "Sue? You? A gutter rat, society's trash, daring to talk about lawsuits?"
His voice dropped, each word dripping with contempt, as if her mention of law was an unforgivable insult. He stepped closer, his wine-scented breath hitting her face. "Do you know how expensive lawsuits are? Years of legal fees, lawyer costs, court fees—enough to crush your broke family. Where'll you get the money? From your sick old man's medicine fund? Or borrow from loan sharks and slave away for life?"
He leaned back, arms crossed, his smile venomous. "And you think you're playing me? No, no, no. I've got no beef with you. You know who you've pissed off. Think you can take them on? People like us don't lift a finger—just a snap, and you're gone, no trace. The law? Ha! It's a game for poor fools like you, tying yourselves in useless rules. For us, it's a tool to deal with people like you."
He smirked, eyes gleaming with cruelty. "Let's be real, at most you've got a civil dispute on your hands. A breach-of-contract spat—nothing more. Even if you win, so what? The court fines us a few bucks—big deal. We'll drag the case out, appeal after appeal, delay enforcement for years, decades. Fines? Pocket change, like tipping a waiter. But you? Can your sick old man wait that long? Or will his grave be overgrown before you see a dime?"
The air felt like the calm before a storm. Mai tilted her head, her smile revealing a hint of fang. "Who said anything about a civil suit?"
Carroway froze, his hand hovering over his tea. The cup clinked as his hand trembled, a drop spilling onto the cluttered table. "What?"
Mai stood, her movements slow and sharp, like a predator. Her shoes clicked on the concrete, each step a heartbeat in the stifling air. "I'm not talking about petty contract disputes, Carroway." Her voice was low, laced with menace. She pulled out her phone, the screen glowing as she played a video. "Look."
The grainy footage showed Mai in a steady shooting stance, covering her teammates from afar. Suddenly, a monster lunged from behind the massive tree beside her, claws slashing straight at her. She froze the video, zoomed in on the far side of the trunk, then replayed it.
"This thing appeared out of nowhere—no tracks, no approach, nothing showing how it got behind that tree. Just… poof, right next to me." She looked up, lips curling. "Funny, isn't it? Almost like someone wanted me dead."
Carroway's face paled, his throat bobbing. He gripped the table, knuckles white. "I-it could've teleported! You don't know every monster!"
Mai's laugh cracked through the air like a whip. She closed the distance, the faint scent of soap clinging to her clothes brushing against him.
"Teleport? That unranked mutt?" Her eyes glittered, sharp as needles. "I'm a Raiser, Carroway. Defective or not, I know the Hero Manual cover to cover. That thing—none of them—can teleport." She leaned in, voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "But you know what can?"
Her smile thinned to a blade. "Superpowers."
Carroway's eyes widened, sweat rolling down his temple. His mouth worked, but no words came. The room seemed to shrink as Mai's presence loomed like a storm.
"And here's the kicker: even a strong superpower needs to be close to pull this off." Her voice was smooth, deadly. "Your drones—three at least, 360-degree coverage, top-notch sensors for people and monsters, recording the whole time, right?"
She tapped her phone against her palm, the sound sharp as a blade. "If someone used a superpower to drop that monster by me, they were close enough for your cameras to catch. And don't tell me no one in your team noticed an extra person slipping into the area. Unless…" She paused, letting the silence hang like a guillotine. "Unless someone in your crew helped."
"You're bluffing!" Carroway snapped, voice shrill, hands shaking as he grabbed then dropped his cup. "There's a hundred ways to dodge cameras! Invisibility, tech cloaking, anything!"
Mai shrugged, infuriatingly calm. "Maybe. But I don't need to prove it." She crossed her arms, her smile a gentle blade. "I just need to sue, raise my suspicions. They'll subpoena the drones, sensor data, everything. And if they find missing footage or tampered feeds… who's explaining why they aided an assassination?" She paused, letting her words sink in. "Oh, and remind me—attempted murder of a Raiser, humanity's future protectors, is a capital crime."
Carroway's face was pure panic, his breathing ragged. Mai was right—she didn't need proof. They both knew someone in the crew had tampered with the cameras to let the culprit get close undetected. If Mai pointed out that detail, the police would dig, and the truth would unravel.
He staggered back, knocking over papers that fluttered like wounded birds. "You… you can't pin this on us! We don't know your enemies! We just make the show!"
Mai's eyes narrowed, her smile cold as steel. "Then you've got nothing to worry about, right? The police will find the truth." She sat back, crossing her legs. "But as you said, my enemies are powerful. They'd likely escape a case like this. The simplest way out…" She trailed off, eyeing Carroway up and down with a smirk, letting him fill in the blank.
His hands fumbled with his phone, fingers trembling as he unlocked it. "Fine! You want your pay? Here!" He frantically typed, transferring funds. Mai's phone pinged, but she didn't glance at it. She leaned back, clutching her chest dramatically.
"Oh my," she sighed, her smile soft but venomous. "That incident nearly killed me. Workplace accident, right?" Her tone was casual, but every word hid a blade. "Make sure it's marked as compensation for that."
Carroway's eyes darted, then dropped to his screen. His shoulders slumped, defeated. Muttering curses, he typed again, transferring five times the amount. Mai's phone pinged again. She glanced at it, lips curving in satisfaction.
"Smart choice." She pocketed her phone and strode to the door. It slammed shut behind her, leaving Carroway's frustrated growl and the sound of a teacup shattering.
Carroway was right—the Goldvale family was a titan to her. Law or public opinion meant nothing against them now.
Still, Mai doubted this assassination attempt had been the Goldvales' doing. They needed a piece on the board, not a broken one. She was meant to secure their ties with the Ashbournes—a great house, even if the man they intended her to marry was crippled. Harming Mai brought the Goldvales no benefit at all. In truth, it wasn't hard to guess; the only one who stood to gain was Lilith.
Mai's appearance on the show, introduced as Mai Goldvale, and the flood of comments about her lineage had already been enough to pin the Ashbourne engagement on her, neatly removing Lilith from the equation.
For Lilith, the weaker Mai looked—or if she conveniently died—the more secure her own place in the Goldvale family became. That was all she wanted.
But even if Mai exposed the scheme, no investigation would ever touch the hem of Lilith's dress. Only Carroway and his crew would be tossed to the wolves as scapegoats. Carroway knew that well—and that was why Mai could bleed him for money so easily.
The payout was only a minor victory. She had no intention of letting either the Goldvales or the production team off so lightly. Given time, she was certain she could grow strong enough to crush them, even under their thumb. But time was slow, and the path too troublesome. She needed shortcuts.
With the original Mai's ties, and even old man Nite's, she had none. Yet amid the chaos, there was still one figure she might try to strike a deal with.
But meeting that person would require preparation. Going in unready meant walking in blind, and Mai had no intention of placing her fate in someone else's hands.
For now, she had to prepare for the National Hero Entrance Exam—where candidates were thrown into a monster-infested zone and scored based on their performance. Though technically an exam, to ordinary citizens it was more like a festival. Most cities broadcast the event live on local television, with countless activities built around it. What mattered now was raising her strength as quickly as possible.
Mai felt no aversion to attending school. She might have absorbed a great deal of knowledge, yet she never believed there was any ceiling to it—this new world still held countless things she had yet to grasp, many of which could only be learned in school.
If not for the Goldvales' interference, she would have been admitted straight into Highcrest, the most prestigious academy, thanks to Mai's theoretical scores—ranked first in all of Lost Angel.
That a school devoted to training superheroes would still recruit an almost powerless student like her predecessor didn't surprise her in the slightest. Researchers were prized as talents; it had been the same in her old world.
The Demon Lord had not fallen to Hero's blade or Sage's grand magic, but to those who fought with pen, paper, and crafting tools. The [Celestial Destroyer] was the culmination of their mad brilliance.
As Mai shuddered at the memory of detonating the [Celestial Destroyer], her phone rang with a distinctive tone. It wasn't a message—the sound came from [HeroNet], the dedicated app for Superheroes, including Raisers and Trainees. That sound was used to signal emergency events in the area.