I Am a Hero With A Hundred Abilities-Chapter 40: Ch 39. Counter Ability
The building loomed like a corpse at the edge of Duskline District, its concrete walls stained with age, weather, and neglect.
Wires hung like veins from its broken facade, and at the entrance, a flickering neon sign barely clung to life.
The original words were supposed to read "Black Hallow," but with half the letters failing to light up, it simply read:
BLOW.
Fitting, Ethan thought grimly as he stepped inside.
The stench hit him first—a cocktail of piss, rot, and cheap smoke. The lobby was more a graveyard than a hallway.
Bodies littered the floor, slumped against the walls—victims of overdoses, mind-numbing substances, or sheer despair. Some moaned quietly, others lay still, eyes vacant, souls long gone.
Above the doors, he saw the markings—01 to 10 on the ground floor.
Apartment 23 was on the third floor.
As Ethan climbed the creaking staircase, temptation crawled from the shadows.
Men with bloodshot eyes offered glowing powders and strange pills.
A woman with trembling hands whispered, "I can make you forget everything, sweetie. Just step into my room."
Ethan didn't break stride. He didn't care.
He wasn't here for pleasure he was here to complete his mission and he intended to do just that.
When he reached the third floor, he stopped at door 23.
This time, he wouldn't underestimate anyone. Whatever was inside—friend or foe—he'd meet it at full strength.
With a breath, he activated Force Might, his limbs thrumming with compressed power. The aura around him shifted, becoming heavier, more lethal.
He pushed the door open.
And froze.
There, on the blood-soaked floor, lay Veilspur—his once-eerie confidence now a pale corpse. Blood pooled beneath him, thick and dark. It was hard to tell how long he'd been dead.
But someone stood above him.
A man vibrating so fast Ethan couldn't even see his face clearly.
And then—movement.
The figure struck.
Ethan couldn't see the motion, but he didn't need to—he felt the murderous intent, sharp and precise.
His body moved instinctively, catching the incoming hand with Force Drain. The air trembled from the impact.
Vibrating hands—trying to pierce through his chest like a drill.
But Ethan's mastery of Force Drain slapped the attack away, and with Force Might, he countered with a devastating punch—only for it to be deflected just in time.
Both fighters blurred through the room, bouncing off walls, breaking furniture, leaving only afterimages in their wake.
Punches, counters, kicks, redirection—the apartment barely held up to the strain. It was a duel not of brute force, but of pure technique and precision.
Ethan gritted his teeth. He had faced stronger foes—higher levels, deadlier powers—but he always overcame them with his peak mastery of Force Might.
That was the problem.
His talent deceived people. They assumed he had ascended beyond his level too quickly, that he was a monster born of rapid evolution.
But now—someone was keeping up.
And for one reason.
---
The Law of Ability Counterbalance.
---
A foundational truth in the world of abilities was that some powers were superior to others, naturally designed to counter, resist, or overwhelm them.
And speed, especially at such extreme levels, was a natural predator to force-based abilities like Ethan's.
That law was why multi-ability users were so feared.
They had options—they could switch tactics, break the balance, bend the rules.
Right now, Ethan was the prey.
But mastery was a weapon of its own—and for now, it was enough to keep him alive.
---
The speedster clicked his tongue mid-fight. "This is a waste of time."
Before Ethan could respond, his next blow connected—sending the man crashing through the window in a shatter of glass and motion.
Ethan rushed to the edge—but when he looked outside there was nothing.
The man was gone.
"Damn it… he got away."
Turning back to the room, Ethan approached Veilspur's body. He knelt beside him, checking for a pulse.
Nothing.
"I can't believe my mission led me to a corpse"
He was about to call it in—until he noticed the man's hand was clenched.
Curious, Ethan pried it open. Blood smeared across his fingers, soaking a crumpled scrap of paper hidden in his grip.
The speedster must've missed it.
Ethan unfolded it slowly.
Just one name.
Raven Spawn.
His eyes narrowed, and his instincts screamed.
This wasn't random. There was something far deeper happening beneath the surface.
But for now…
He stood, pocketed the note, and reached for his communicator.
"Mission complete. Target's dead. I'll file the report."
But his mind stayed on that name.
Raven Spawn…
He had a feeling this was only the beginning.
****
The sirens didn't wail when they arrived—they never did when Agents were involved.
Ethan stood near the broken window of the apartment, the body of Veilspur still lying behind him, blood drying into the cracked floorboards.
He watched as a black unmarked vehicle pulled up outside the crumbling building.
A few seconds later, footsteps echoed through the stairwell—disciplined, measured, purposeful.
Leading the group was a man in a sleek black suit—not the typical armored exo-rigs or plated gear most field heroes wore.
But Ethan could tell at a glance: this wasn't just a suit.
It was armor. High-grade. Elite-class. Concealed in plain sight.
The man moved with casual confidence, but Ethan's instincts—honed in too many life-and-death encounters—could feel it.
The subtle hum of defense runes and the faint magnetic pull of integrated tech.
The man stopped in front of him and spoke with clipped precision.
"I'm Agent 777 of the Hero Association. Can you tell me what happened here?"
His tone was neutral, his expression unreadable. But Ethan caught it—the slight flicker of surprise when the agent saw how young he was.
Barely eighteen, yet standing amidst corpses, blood, and wreckage.
Still, professionalism buried the reaction quickly. Ethan respected that.
As the other agents fanned out, inspecting the scene, scanning the room with forensic drones and evidence sweepers, Ethan gave a full account—minus one detail.
He didn't mention who was responsible for sending the men from earlier—the ones sent after him outside the bar.
If the Association didn't already know who sent them, he wanted to handle it his way.
When Ethan finished, he reached into his pocket and handed over the bloodied paper with the name "Raven Spawn" scribbled on it.
Agent 777 unfolded it, scanned it with sharp eyes, and gave a subtle nod before handing it off to one of the investigators behind him.
"Evidence. Catalog it."
The agent turned back to Ethan. His voice held a touch more weight now—approval, perhaps.
"You've done well, young hero. Your reward will be transferred shortly."
Ethan nodded in acknowledgment.
The agent offered a final nod in return, then turned and walked out without another word, his team following like shadows—efficient, clean, and silent.
Just like ghosts.
Once they were gone, the apartment suddenly felt Quiet and Empty.
Ethan glanced down at himself—his clothes were torn and burned, patches of blood on his sleeve, a long gash across his shoulder from the earlier fight.
The rented battle armor he'd used at Duality Den had been wrecked—and the Association, though they didn't charge him for the damages, had clearly decided they weren't lending him another.
Not that they told him outright.
They're just afraid I'll keep breaking them, Ethan thought with a humorless smirk. Can't say I blame them.
He exhaled, taking one last look at the scene before muttering:
"Guess it's time to head home…"
But as he stepped toward the door, he paused and looked down at his shredded hoodie.
"Though, maybe I should fix my cloth first. Last thing I need is to give Lisa a heart attack the second I walk in."
With a tired grunt, Ethan exited the apartment, vanishing into the night.
****
As Ethan stepped into the quiet
warmth of his home, his ragged clothes shimmered faintly—the effect of the newly purchased low-tier restoration chip embedded in the collar of his shirt.
In moments, the torn fabric restitched itself into a clean, casual black hoodie paired with dark jeans.
It wasn't exactly battle-ready, but it was definitely more presentable—and more importantly, it wouldn't alarm his sister.
The moment he entered the scent of something savory hit him first. The soft clatter of kitchen utensils followed, mixed with the low hum of a song playing from an old speaker.
He relaxed slightly.
But then he heard a voice—not from the kitchen.
"Took you long enough," said a calm, familiar tone.
Ethan's eyes flicked toward the dining table, and there she was—Sophia.
Sitting like she owned the place, arms crossed, expression unreadable, a single glass of water untouched in front of her.
The white gown she wore hugged her frame gently, modest yet elegant, and her long hair cascaded over her shoulders like moonlight.
It was the kind of scene that could've stopped time for any guy who walked in…
But Ethan wasn't any guy.
Before he could say a word, his sister emerged from the kitchen with a steaming pot of stew, setting it on the table.
She glanced up—and lit up in that mischievous way only she could.
"Oh, Ethan, you're back!" she chirped, pretending surprise.
"I was just about to call you—your girlfriend came to visit."
Ethan shot her a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.
He was used to her antics already.
Sophia, for her part, gave the faintest smirk at the exchange but didn't rise to it.
Ethan's gaze returned to her, taking in the casual yet graceful way she sat, her demeanor composed yet undeniably radiant.
The way she carried herself, calm but commanding, would make most guys stumble over their own names.
Before he could speak, she finally did.
"Remember how you promised to assist me earlier?" she said, tone smooth.
Ethan blinked. Promised? He distinctly remembered her asking for help.
Still, he didn't bother arguing. He knew Sophia's personality well enough.
She continued, calmly but firmly:
"I need that assistance now."
Ethan let out a low sigh. Of course she did.
He walked further into the room, brushing a hand through his slightly messy hair.
"Fine," he muttered, glancing from Sophia to his sister.
"Let me eat first after all I cant help you on an empty stomach."
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A/N I will release an extra chapter if I get 90 power stones or 30 Golden tickets.
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