The walls of the city were plastered with the same poster over and over again: "Vote for General Titan." Lately, it was all the media could talk about—the general's campaign to become the next global president of the Hero Federation.
Allen glanced at the hero's arrogant smile, tore the poster off the wall, and shredded it between his fingers.
"Hero…? He does not deserve to be called that."
He exhaled heavily, his eyes tinged with sorrow, before lifting his gaze to the sky.
Across the city, graffiti covered abandoned buildings. Names like The Puppeteer or Crimson Shadow marked those who opposed the Federation's rules—people the world labeled as villains.
Soon, Allen came upon a mural depicting a star-filled sky. It drew a faint smile from him. At the very top, a name was written:
"Firmament, the Killer."
No one had ever seen Firmament, but the stories were always the same: monsters found torn apart, criminals left with shattered bones and bodies bruised beyond recognition. Every faction debated what he truly was. The government called him a villain. The Federation classified him as an EX-Rank Monster.
Allen did not care for the pseudonym. Firmament was a lingering echo of a past drenched in pain—a vessel through which he could deliver the justice the Federation refused to acknowledge. And Allen believed, with absolute certainty, that he was doing what was right.
---
Half an hour later, Allen arrived home—a modest apartment on the outskirts of the city, peaceful, with a perfect view of the stars.
He turned on the television as he prepared dinner, unable to resist watching the news. The anchor showcased several monsters rampaging through distant districts and reported the death of yet another hero in the line of duty.
Suddenly, sirens blared throughout the entire city.
Allen stepped out onto his balcony. Above, a massive dirigible projected the face of the mayor of City F.
"Citizens of City F, remain calm and proceed to the underground bunker. This is not a drill."
Allen lit a cigarette calmly. The projection shifted to reveal a massive wolf with pitch-black fur and eyes like voids.
"The monster is currently ten kilometers from the city. Estimated impact in one hour. A Federation unit is en route from the central district and will attempt to restrain it."
The transmission ended abruptly.
Allen took a drag, exhaling the smoke into the night. The idea of hiding in a bunker was meaningless. He stepped back inside and opened a drawer, retrieving a small prism that shimmered with a faint, nebula-like blue glow—almost as though it held a galaxy within.
He slipped it into his pocket.
"Why does it have to be so close to home…"
He climbed to the rooftop and sat down. In the distance, he could already make out the massive black silhouette drawing nearer.
---
Fifteen minutes later, the Federation's hero team continued their futile struggle. The wolf swatted them away as if they were insects.
One hero, clad in a yellow military-style suit, slammed his fist into the ground, generating a small tremor that momentarily staggered the creature.
"Team!"
The yellow-clad hero barked the command, prompting the remaining four members to regroup beside him.
"If your life is in danger, fall back."
The warning was laughable. Allen knew far too well the truth behind the Hero Federation. Created after the emergence of pseudo-creatures, it claimed to regulate humans with abilities. But the reality was darker—hero work had become a profitable industry. Under the Heroic Occupation Treaty, heroes were paid according to the criminals or monsters they killed or captured. Their only rule was simple:
Never kill a human without abilities.
Everything else was business—an excuse to justify greed.
One of the apprentices turned around suddenly. Something… or someone… felt like it was watching them.
At that moment, the wolf lashed out with a single swipe of its claws. Only two survived the strike: the man in the yellow uniform, and the apprentice who had sensed the presence moments before.
"Sir…!"
The apprentice pointed ahead.
Suspended in the air before the wolf was a figure draped in white. He glanced down at the heroes.
"That is what happens when you let your guard down. This brute should not exceed Category 1. Not strong enough to level a city—but more than strong enough to kill humans instantly without being noticed."
The General in yellow glared at the intruder, pointing accusingly.
"Who the hell do you think you are?! You're just a hero who can fly—you don't have combat abilities!"
"I wonder… is that so?"
The man in white smiled. He raised his hand toward the heavens, clenching his fist as if he were crushing a star.
"Stars are beautiful things… depending on one's point of view."
His fist flared into a radiant sphere of blinding light—as though he had stolen a piece of the night sky itself. As he drew his arm behind him, the apprentice's eyes widened. At last, he understood who this was.
"Sir—we need to leave!"
The wolf began growling, stepping back—a reaction that left General Titan stunned.
"Lesser Star Fist."
The man in white thrust his glowing fist toward the wolf. Within seconds, the monster swelled grotesquely and exploded into a brilliant flash of white, splattering blood across the field.
"What do you think you're doing?! The Federation needed that specimen alive!"
The white-robed man simply smiled and looked toward the sky.
"The stars are remarkably clear tonight."
The apprentice tugged on the general's sleeve.
"Sir… who is the only human whose ability is unregistered by the Federation?"
The man in white adjusted his robe.
"So… you are this 'Firmament,' then?"
The stranger did not confirm it. He merely stared.
"With your ability, the Hero Federation would pay you handsomely."
"You are an apprentice. Allow me to give you a piece of advice: if you follow General Titan, the only thing awaiting you is death—brought on by his… enthusiasm for fighting without preparation."
And just like that, Firmament vanished. General Titan clenched his fists so tightly that his skin began to bleed.