The streets of New York trembled beneath the thunderous steps of something monstrous. People screamed in terror as a towering figure emerged from the shadows of the far northern neighborhood. It was a creature like no other, its silhouette casting a terrifying shadow in the dimming light of evening. The Minotaur, a monster out of myth and nightmare, had arrived.
Its massive horns curled upward, scraping against the sky as its colossal hooves stomped through the streets, tearing up asphalt and sending shards of concrete flying into the air. The beast's muscular body was covered in a mix of fur and dark stone-like skin, while its glowing eyes pierced the gloom, striking fear into the hearts of those who dared to look. Its massive fists smashed through buildings with the ease of a child breaking toys, and the sound of steel bending echoed through the neighborhood. It was chaos incarnate, and nothing seemed to slow it down.
Yet, despite the mayhem unfolding in front of them, no one moved to stop the creature. In the distance, the government sent out distress signals, trying desperately to gather any hero willing to intervene. But the message fell on deaf ears. The government's reward for the Minotaur's defeat was small—far too small to encourage any seasoned hero to step forward.
A few B-tier heroes were contacted, but they too hesitated. The Minotaur wasn't just another mindless beast to deal with; it was something more, something smarter. There was no precedent for a monster like this. It didn't charge blindly; it seemed to calculate its every move, its every swipe of the massive axe-like arm. It tore apart the environment with chilling precision, as if it were trying to send a message.
The message was clear: this creature wasn't something they could easily take down. It was the first of its kind—a new type of monster, and everyone in the hero community knew that without the proper intel, they were walking blindfolded into a fight they might not win.
News spread fast. No one wanted to touch the Minotaur. The financial reward was not enough to risk their lives for. The top-tier heroes, the ones known for handling large-scale destruction, were nowhere to be found. They were far too busy managing their own fame, running their media campaigns, or attending social events that had far more lucrative rewards. No one wanted to fight for justice anymore; the game had changed. It was about clout, money, and status.
Even the low-tier heroes, the ones who could make a name for themselves through smaller victories, hesitated. They weren't fools. Fighting something as unpredictable as a Minotaur was far too dangerous when the reward didn't match the risk. Everyone knew that these beasts didn't just attack—they adapted. No one was certain how it would respond, or how it might change the landscape of New York forever.
And so, the streets were left to the citizens. The sirens blared as local police tried, and failed, to stop the creature. They set up barricades, called in backup, but no amount of firearms or tear gas was going to slow down a creature like the Minotaur. They tried to evacuate the area, but the monster was relentless, pushing deeper into the heart of the neighborhood, its rage building with every step.
The few brave souls who remained behind, hoping for a miracle, stared in horror as the Minotaur barreled through the streets. Storefronts caved in under its weight, windows shattered, and cars were crushed beneath the weight of its hooves. Dust and debris filled the air as the creature roared, a deafening sound that shook the very ground beneath the people's feet.
For a moment, it felt like the end of the world.
But still, no one came.
The government did everything they could to mobilize help, but there was a sense of hopelessness in the air. It was as though no one truly believed a hero would step forward. The rewards for defeating the Minotaur were too low. The risk too great. Even the government couldn't offer enough to convince anyone it was worth the effort.
As the days passed, the Minotaur's rampage continued, unchecked. The sound of its footfalls echoed through the empty streets. It was a terrifying reminder of how far the hero system had fallen.
Citizens who had once trusted in their protectors now watched from their windows, their faces painted with fear and confusion. They questioned why no one was coming. Where were the top-tier heroes? Where were the ones who promised to protect them?
It wasn't long before rumors began to swirl: the hero system was broken. Heroes, once revered as saviors, were now seen as selfish individuals who cared only for their own fame. The people began to wonder: was the system designed to protect them, or to serve the needs of those at the top?
The question echoed in the minds of every resident as the Minotaur tore through their city. The government was scrambling, calling in favors, offering more money. But no one wanted to answer the call. The battle had become less about saving lives and more about personal gain.
As the destruction continued, it became clear that this creature—this Minotaur—wasn't just a monster. It was a symbol. It was the product of a broken system, a world where those who were meant to protect the innocent cared more about their own advancement than the safety of those they swore to protect.
And so, the Minotaur remained. A towering figure of rage and strength, free to do whatever it pleased. The people watched, helpless, as their so-called heroes turned their backs on them. The city was left in ruins, and no one was coming to save them.
For the first time, it seemed like the people were truly alone.