Chapter 1 — The Measure of Ordinary
On Astra Prime, power was measured.
Every citizen knew the scale, even if they had never seen the upper end of it themselves.
F.
E.
D.
C.
B.
A.
And then—far above the rhythm of ordinary life—S, SS, and SSS. Letters spoken carefully, sometimes quietly, the way people once spoke the names of natural disasters.
SSS RANK (TOP 3 – LIVING LEGENDS)
1. World-End Monk
• Rank: SSS
• Neutral, ancient
• Can enforce planetary stillness
• Avoids all politics
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2. Void Tyrant
• Rank: SSS
• Alien-war veteran
• Slaughtered multiple hostile species
• Considered unstable
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3. Star Matriarch
• Rank: SSS
• Energy-based existence
• Acts as humanity's last-resort defense
• Rarely seen
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SS RANK (SAME TIER, NO GAPS)
4. Iron Atlas
• Strength-based absolute monster
• Can halt tectonic movement
5. Chrona Vale
• Time-perception domination
• Supreme duelist
6. Storm Regent
• Planetary weather manipulation
7. Void Siren
• Space–gravity distortion
• Known alien exterminator
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S RANK (RARE)
8. Black Sentinel
• Anti-superhuman specialist
9. Blood Alchemist
• Biological warfare incarnate
10. Gravewalker
• Extreme regeneration
• Near-immortal
The rankings were everywhere. On recruitment halls and transit hubs, on planetary networks and personal displays. They reminded people where they stood in the universe.
Most people stood very low.
Lira Kael knew exactly where she stood.
D-rank.
The holographic panel above her head confirmed it in cold blue light, hovering just long enough to feel personal.
Name: Lira Kael
Rank: D
Ability Type: Kinetic Reinforcement
Compatibility: Average
She stared at it for a second longer than necessary, then looked away.
The Frontier Evaluation Complex stretched around her in layered steel and light, its wide corridors humming with restrained energy. The absolute authority for superhumans across the country. Hundreds of superhumans moved through it every day—some confident, some nervous, some already resigned to whatever judgment waited for them.
You could feel the difference between them.
A group passed her on the left. Three C-ranks, maybe one B. Their presence pressed subtly against the air, not enough to be oppressive, but enough to be noticed. Their movements were smoother, more economical, like the world gave them just a fraction more time to react.
Lira clenched her jaw.
She had trained harder than most of them. Failed more times than most of them. Pushed her ability until her muscles tore and her nerves burned raw.
And still—
D-rank.
At the far end of the hall, a massive display flickered to life. Conversations quieted instinctively as familiar names scrolled across it.
The Top Superhumans of Astra Prime.
Faces most people would never see in person.
Kael Dravion of Aegis Dominion, his recorded feats including the suppression of a planetary-scale revolt.
Seraphyne Vaal of Nova Frontier, who had led humanity's deepest successful exploration beyond mapped space.
Morthane Krix of Eclipse Covenant, whose missions were never publicly detailed and never questioned.
SSS-rank.
Below them followed others—SS and S—each name tied to one of the five great guilds that stood above all others. Any guild that possessed even a single S-rank was called a Super Guild, and only five held that status on Astra Prime.
Guilds weren't optional.
If you awakened, you registered. If you registered, you joined. Guilds managed missions, territory rights, interstellar operations, and—most importantly—damage control when power went wrong.
Lira didn't stare at the display for long.
She had learned early that staring too long only made the distance feel larger.
"Assessment Group C," a calm synthetic voice announced. "Prepare for simulation entry."
That was her.
She stepped onto the platform with twelve others. The doors sealed behind them with a heavy, final sound. Light drained away as the simulation loaded.
A hostile frontier world unfolded around them—jagged terrain, unstable gravity, unfamiliar bio-signatures flaring across the horizon.
"Objective," the system said evenly.
"Survive. Adapt. Do not exceed biological limits."
The first wave hit fast.
Lira reinforced her muscles and launched forward, intercepting a creature mid-leap. The impact rattled her bones. Pain flared immediately, sharp and familiar, vibrating through her arms.
She ignored it.
Minutes passed.
One by one, others fell. Some were overwhelmed. Some collapsed as their abilities tore muscle fibers faster than they could heal. Some froze, instincts failing under pressure.
By minute eight, only three remained.
By minute nine, only one.
Lira.
Her reinforcement flickered, unstable now. Warning signals screamed through her nervous system, red overlays bleeding into her vision.
Stop, her body begged.
She didn't.
A final creature emerged, larger than the rest, its mass distorting the terrain beneath it. Gravity buckled. The ground cracked.
Lira charged anyway.
The impact threw her back hard. She hit the ground, breath torn from her lungs, limbs refusing to respond. The taste of copper filled her mouth.
The timer ticked down.
Five seconds.
She tried to move.
Four.
Her arms shook violently, muscles spasming.
Three.
Her legs slid uselessly beneath her.
Two.
Somewhere deep inside, beneath pain and exhaustion, something quiet refused to accept that this was where her story ended.
One.
The world vanished.
Lights returned. The chamber opened. Medics rushed forward, practiced and efficient.
Lira stayed where she was, on her knees, breathing hard, staring at the floor.
"Assessment complete," an evaluator said without inflection. "Performance logged. Rank unchanged."
D-rank.
Again.
Across the observation corridor, separated by reinforced glass and clearance barriers, analysts discussed numbers and projections. Most had already moved on to the next candidate.
Among them stood a man who did not belong to any category.
No rank display hovered near him. No energy signature registered on the sensors. His clothing was plain, his posture relaxed, his presence easy to overlook.
A normal man.
He watched as Lira Kael pushed herself upright without assistance, refusing to lean on the medics, refusing to look defeated.
Most observers had already turned away.
He hadn't.
He didn't see her rank.
He saw the moment—small, almost invisible—when her body had already surrendered and she had tried to stand anyway.
"That's enough," someone nearby muttered, glancing at the data. "She'll never go past C."
The man said nothing.
He had learned, over a very long time, that limits were rarely where people believed them to be.
As Lira left the chamber, shoulders tight, jaw set, unaware of the quiet attention following her—
For the first time in years, the man smiled.
Not because he had found strength.
But because he had found resolve.
And resolve, given time, could break even the universe.