Humans have limits.
Jordan stared at the card in his hand, mind churning.
But with this card, those limits become negotiable.
The white-bordered special card gleamed in the lamplight. That same goofy bald face grinned up at him, completely at odds with the world-breaking power it represented.
One racial growth limit. Shattered. Gone.
He could use it on himself right now. Break through the human ceiling, unlock potential that biology said shouldn't exist.
But...
Through his Stand connection, he felt hunger. Not physical—spiritual. Fantasy Cards wanted this power with an intensity he'd never experienced from it before.
And honestly? It made sense. His strength ultimately stemmed from his Stand. Upgrading the source would strengthen everything downstream.
Plus, Saitama lived in Z-City. He could always collect more fragments. A few more hot pot dinners, and—
Jordan's internal negotiation cut off as his Stand's desire intensified.
"Alright, alright." Jordan held up the card. "You want it?"
Fantasy Cards shimmered eagerly.
"If you want it, just say so. How am I supposed to know you want it if you don't tell me? You're looking at me very sincerely, but you still need to use your words."
His Stand pulsed with wordless need.
"Do you really want it? Because if you want it, I'll give it to you. I'm not going to refuse. It's impossible for me to refuse what my own Stand wants. We're partners, right? Let's be reasonable here."
Blue flames flickered impatiently.
"I'll count to three, and you need to clearly indicate—okay, okay, you can have it!"
Jordan pressed the Limiter Break card to his chest.
It dissolved instantly—not into light, but directly into his Stand.
FWOOOOSH.
Blue flames exploded outward, engulfing Jordan's entire body. Through the spiritual fire, he saw his Stand change.
Fantasy Cards—normally just a deck of cosmic-patterned cards—began to solidify. The abstract became concrete. An oval-shaped cocoon of white light wrapped around the manifestation, pulsing with energy like a heartbeat.
Something was growing inside.
Evolving.
Jordan watched, transfixed, as the cocoon sealed itself completely. His Stand had entered a transformation state, wrapped in conceptual power taken from the person who'd broken their own limiter through sheer willpower and determination.
What will you become?
The cocoon pulsed once more, then went still.
Waiting.
Elsewhere in Z-City:
Saitama walked home from Jordan's apartment, belly full, mood content. He rubbed his nose suddenly, sniffling.
"Weird. It's not even cold. Am I catching something?"
He scratched his head absently. Three more hairs drifted loose.
"Whatever. Better get home."
Back at Jordan's apartment:
The transformation cocoon hovered in his perception—dormant but present, consuming the Limiter Break power in some process Jordan couldn't observe.
How long will this take? he wondered. Hours? Days? Weeks?
No answer. The Stand was busy.
Better test what still worked.
Jordan raised his hand, channeling Stand energy. Lightning crackled to life around his fingers—Kennen's power, still accessible. The electricity formed into a Thundering Shuriken, crackling and spinning.
"Good. Loaded abilities still function."
He dismissed the lightning and turned to the teacup on his table. Hot tea, still steaming. He focused his Stand ability on it.
Card creation activated.
Ten seconds later, a white-bordered card materialized.
Jordan's eyebrow rose. "That's... new."
Previous card creation had been instant, or close to it. Now there was a noticeable delay—ten full seconds between activation and completion.
[Fantasy Card: Celadon Teacup]
Type: Item • Rarity: N
Standard tea set purchased from a convenience store. Tea included.
Effect: Drink More Hot Water
Helps maintain body temperature, improve circulation, alleviate various minor ailments. The universal cure for everything, according to concerned relatives.
Jordan snorted at the effect description. He released the card—instant materialization, no delay—and the teacup reappeared in his hand. He took a sip.
Card release still works normally, he noted with relief. Which means "Eat My Road Roller" is still operational.
The creation delay was inconvenient, but not crippling. This was why the body-enhancement route paid dividends—temporarily losing quick-deploy card creation barely impacted his overall combat power. He still had Spider-Sense, telekinesis, lightning control, attribute boosts, and his entire existing deck.
He could work with this.
Next morning, Z-City Police Station:
"Oi, Evans! Heard you got a promotion. You buying lunch?"
Jordan looked up from his locker. Three colleagues grinned at him, clearly enjoying this.
"What nonsense! How can you slander my good name with baseless accusations?"
"Still denying it? Anzu told us everything!"
"You've been going to the Director's office every other day!"
"Suspicious!"
Jordan rolled his eyes, shouldering his bag. "Believe what you want."
They laughed as he headed for the exit, where Director Zee waited with a signed leave authorization.
"Special circumstances," the old man grumbled, handing over the slip. "Hero Association business means you can take calls during work hours without asking permission. Don't abuse it."
"Understood, sir."
Director Zee glared at him—mostly for show—then waved him off.
Jordan grinned and left.
Z-City Hero Association Branch:
The building dominated its block—imposing gates, ceremonial entrance, floor space comparable to a stadium. The Hero Association's wealth was on full display, architectural peacocking at its finest.
Despite the early hour, a massive line had already formed outside.
Jordan recognized it from news coverage: hero recruitment registration. Hundreds of hopefuls queued up, drawn by generous salaries, benefits packages, and the chance to punch monsters professionally.
Not everyone has a hero's heart, Jordan thought, scanning the crowd. But the Association pays well enough that it doesn't matter.
Most would wash out during testing. The standards were higher than people expected.
Take Mumen Rider—future top-ranked C-Class hero, persistent beyond reason. His record looked impressive on paper: dozens of battles against Wolf-level threats, even some Tiger-level encounters. He'd survived a hit from the rampaging Deep Sea King.
That was probably the ceiling for baseline humans.
Jordan, having been personally invited, bypassed the main entrance entirely. He rode his scooter to a side entrance marked "Priority Access" and headed inside.
A staff member in a black suit approached immediately, movements crisp and professional. "Good morning. Do you have an appointment?"
Before Jordan could answer, a woman's voice cut in.
"Kishimoto, I'll handle this gentleman."
"Ah—yes, Team Leader Lanny!"
Jordan turned.
A blonde woman with long, wavy hair approached, wearing a tight-fitting business suit that probably violated several workplace dress codes. She had burgundy-tinted glasses and a smile bright enough to power the building.
"You must be Officer Jordan Evans?" Her enthusiasm was almost weaponized. "Welcome to the Hero Association! I've been assigned by Chief Bucky to manage your schedule today. You can call me Lanny."
Jordan kept his expression neutral despite the overwhelming energy radiating from this woman. "Thank you. I appreciate the assistance."
"My pleasure! Please, follow me."
Hero Testing Venue:
Lanny led him through pristine hallways, heels clicking against polished floors.
"Your test will be conducted alongside the other applicants," she explained. "The difference is, theirs determines their future. Yours is mostly a formality—we've already verified your record. But procedures must be followed!"
Translation: I'm pre-approved, but they need official documentation.
Made sense.
The testing venue was packed when they arrived—easily two hundred candidates crammed into a space meant for half that. The moment Jordan entered with a staff escort, heads turned.
Conversations stuttered. Eyes tracked him with varying degrees of envy, curiosity, and irritation.
"Why does that guy get a hot guide?"
"Seriously! I want one too!"
"Is it just because he's better looking? That's discrimination!"
Complaints rippled through the crowd—loud enough to hear, quiet enough to maintain deniability.
Lanny, clearly used to being the center of attention, ignored them completely. She smiled at Jordan. "This is the men's locker room, so I'll wait for you at the first testing station. Good luck!"
"Thanks."
Jordan watched her walk away—ponytail swaying, completely unbothered by the hundred-plus stares following her.
The moment she disappeared around the corner, he received approximately fifty simultaneous glares of masculine resentment.
Yep. Made some friends already.
Jordan pushed open the locker room door and stepped inside.
Time to see what the Hero Association considered "testing."