I woke up in my bed, took a quick shower, and freshened up. I threw on some casual clothes and glanced at myself in the mirror. At 16 years old, I looked completely average—nothing standout about my appearance, the kind of face that lets me blend effortlessly into any crowd.
I stepped out of my room, made a simple breakfast for myself, then grabbed my bag and headed out the front door. After locking it behind me, I slipped the keys into my bag and started walking along the road.
As I walked along the road, everything changed in an instant. Gunshots echoed from the nearby bank—a gang of armed criminals had stormed in and was now robbing it. Chaos erupted: screams, shattering glass, people running in panic.
My heart pounded. I quickened my pace, clutching my bag tightly, fear twisting in my stomach. But then I spotted police cars and media vans speeding toward the scene, sirens blaring. Curiosity overrode some of my terror, and the sight of the officers gave me a sliver of confidence. Instead of fleeing, I slowed down and edged closer, blending into the growing crowd of onlookers. We stopped near a convenience store—a safe distance away, but close enough to see the bank's entrance clearly. People murmured excitedly around me.
"Hey, what if one of those criminals has supernatural powers?" someone said. The idea spread quickly, voices growing louder with wild theories.
The talk of superpowers made my skin crawl. "This is getting too messy," I muttered under my breath. I turned to leave, ready to run.
A few others followed my lead, scattering nervously. Someone in the crowd laughed mockingly: "Look at the scared little babies!"
I was about to bolt when the bank's doors burst open. Several criminals emerged, heavy duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Their companions followed, all heavily armed.
The police immediately raised their weapons. "Freeze! Or we'll shoot!"
One of the robbers—a tall man in the lead—just smirked. He lifted his hand casually, fingers splayed. In the next second, razor-sharp bullets of water shot from his fingertips, faster than any gunfire. They tore through the air, striking down every officer and nearby civilian in a brutal spray of blood.
One of those water bullets slammed into my right leg. Agony exploded through me. I screamed, collapsing to the ground, clutching the wound as blood soaked my pants. The pain was unbearable—I sobbed and wailed, "My leg! My leg!"
The gang didn't hesitate. They piled into a waiting van and sped off, vanishing down the street.
Minutes later—though it felt like hours—ambulances arrived in force, sirens wailing. Paramedics rushed stretchers to the wounded and covered the dead.
They lifted me onto one and wheeled me toward an ambulance. As we passed the bank's entrance, I caught a glimpse inside: bodies everywhere. Staff, customers, even children—no one innocent had been spared. The criminals had slaughtered them all.
Whether from the searing pain in my leg or the horrific sight, tears streamed down my face. I cried harder than ever as the ambulance doors closed and we raced toward the hospital.
Inside the hospital, the emergency staff worked quickly to stabilize me. I'd lost a lot of blood, and the doctors said my leg would take months to heal properly—walking normally again felt like a distant dream. Lying there in pain, I regretted everything. I should have just kept walking to school and ignored the chaos at the bank.
A few minutes later, a nurse approached my bed. She was an older woman, mature and curvaceous, but in my state, I barely registered it. Her voice was flat and professional as she spoke.
"Kid, I need your parents' contact number."
I matched her tone, numb from shock and pain. "My parents died in an accident."
She didn't flinch. "Any guardians, then?"
"They were orphans. No one else."
Her expression remained blank, as did mine. Around us, doctors and nurses hurried between patients—everyone too busy with their own crises to spare sympathy for a nobody like me.
After a short pause, she tried again. "Give me your student ID."
"I lost my bag in the incident. Everything was in it—books, wallet, ID card."
"Then just tell me your student ID number."
I recited it from memory. She jotted it down carefully.
"Don't worry, kid," she said, still in that same flat tone. "We'll forward this to the Supernatural Headquarters Council. If your story checks out, they'll cover all your medical expenses. I heard they're sending healers with supernatural abilities from the capital because of the attack—to treat the victims and calm public outrage."
I nodded weakly.
She turned and walked away, her hips swaying as she disappeared down the busy corridor.
A few days later, the Supernatural Headquarters Council dispatched 300 water-based healing practitioners to the city. Ten of them arrived at my hospital, moving efficiently through the wards to treat the victims of the bank attack.
As they worked—glowing azure light emanating from their hands as they mended wounds and restored damaged tissue—the patients and staff around them showed no fear or hostility. People watched calmly, some even nodding in quiet gratitude.
After all, supernatural abilities were like a kitchen knife: a tool that could prepare a lifesaving meal or commit murder, depending entirely on the wielder. Most people had enough common sense to recognize that. Besides, no one wanted to risk offending the very healers who had traveled all the way from the capital—especially when a bad attitude might mean being skipped over for treatment.
Like everyone else, I kept my expression neutral as one of the practitioners approached my bed, ready to begin the long process of repairing my shattered leg.
One of the healers assigned to me was a girl who looked about my age—maybe 16 or 17. Her youthful face and easy demeanor gave me enough confidence to speak up.
"Excuse me, miss... would you mind if I asked a couple of questions?" I said politely.
She glanced over with a bright smile. "Oh, sure thing, buddy! Fire away."
Encouraged by her cheerful tone, I asked, "So... what's going to happen to those criminals? Will they go to jail?"
Her expression turned serious in an instant. "No. Those lunatics committed mass murder. The Supernatural Headquarters Council will hunt them down—no matter what it takes."
"That's... actually kind of amazing," I said quietly. "They deserve it."
She let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Hmm. Yeah. If they'd just robbed the bank—maybe damaged some property—they would've gotten a few years in prison. But now? They'll be tracked like animals."
I nodded, and so did several others nearby who had been listening in. A quiet satisfaction settled over the room.
She added, almost as an afterthought, "The Council will also compensate the families of the victims."
Everyone nodded again, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. After all, if the Supernatural Headquarters Council was willing to cover medical costs for a minor orphan like me, looking after grieving families was hardly surprising.
Curiosity got the better of me again. "By the way... why are all the supernatural healers here water-based?"
The question caught the attention of the surrounding patients and staff; a few leaned in, clearly interested.
The girl shrugged lightly. "According to the Council's scientists, it's because the human body is 50 to 70 percent water—averaging around 60 percent for most adults. Water abilities are simply the most efficient and compatible for healing."
I blinked. "Wait... that's it?"
She nodded, amused.
"Then how do people level up their powers?" I pressed.
She gave me a gentle, almost pitying smile. "Even if I explained it, it wouldn't mean much to you right now. You'll only understand once you awaken—if you ever do."
I fell silent, slipping back into my usual flat expression as I nodded.
Once she finished the session—warm azure light fading from her hands as the pain in my leg eased dramatically—she gathered her things to leave.
Just before walking away, she turned back with that same cheerful voice. "Hey, I hope you awaken someday and become a supernatural user too. Then we could be friends!"
I managed a small, genuine smile. "I hope so too."
She waved once and disappeared down the corridor.