Hey guys,
For those who don't know, I've rewritten parts of Chapters 2 and 3. I heard your feedback about where I went wrong, and you guys were right, I made the character a bit too OP.
I got so caught up in the writing that I forgot the limits of New Order. It didn't help that I was watching Kamen Rider Zetz, who has the power of imagination!
This might happen a few more times since I'm prone to mistakes, and I'll likely change more in the future if any "rules" I establish contradict New Order.
Also, this update was pushed back because I was busy playing Xenoverse 2 and forgot to write. I'm sorry about that!
Anyway, please enjoy the new chapter!
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QUIRK PROFILE: NEW ORDER
1. CLASSIFICATION
Low-level reality-manipulation quirk.
2. CORE MECHANIC
Manipulates reality through the establishment of active rules.
· Rule Slot Limit: 2 concurrent active rules (swappable; not permanent).
· Activation Requirements:
• Verbal enunciation of the rule during physical contact with the target.
• Nomenclature:
· For other living subjects: Full legal name is mandatory.
· For the user: First-person pronouns ("I," "my," "me") or self-referential terms are sufficient.
3. EFFECT DURATION & MAINTENANCE
· Effects persist only while the rule is designated as active and the user remains conscious.
· Cessation Triggers: Deliberate deactivation of the rule.
4. PERFORMANCE SPECIFICATIONS
· Enhancement Cap: Restricted to the user's personal "peak" potential.
· Stamina Cost: Minor.
· Efficacy Gradient: 30–40% greater effect on inanimate objects and the user compared to other living beings.
5. KNOWLEDGE & PRECISION REQUIREMENTS
· Knowledge Threshold: Basic familiarity with the target is required (inverse correlation with rule specificity).
· Critical Constraint: Rules must be operationally clear and non-vague. If ambiguity is present, the rule will fail to activate entirely; no partial or unregulated effects occur.
6. RISK PROFILE
Even optimally constructed,clear rules may exhibit unforeseen side effects.
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Kouta typed the final words of the profile on his laptop while his automated trading algorithms worked in the background. He stared at the screen, hands steepled under his chin, resting on the desk.
He was weighing a critical decision: did he need substantial capital now to build the tech that would secure his future?
"If I start acquiring money now, I can begin building things instantly. But if I wait, it's going to take forever to even get started," he muttered, meticulously balancing the risks and rewards of both paths.
Then he remembered a figure from the comics, a man who never let fear dictate his preparation: Doctor Doom.
"Fuck being scared. I can handle most fighters either way," Kouta concluded, his resolve hardening. The decision was made. He would enter the underground fighting circuit, confident in his gravity-adapted physique and the channeling of the planetary spin energy rule.
"But now, where do I find this place?"
He lacked the street connections to locate such an arena. Then, a name echoed in his enhanced mind, pulled from the series' lore: Giran.
Kouta smirked. The information broker with fingers in every shady pie. With his cognitive rules still active, he began the digital hunt. He would track the man down, hacking into security cameras and cross-referencing databases with ruthless efficiency.
'This is going to take a while,' he thought, but time was a resource he was now optimized to use. His fingers began flying across the keyboard, the screen filling with cascading lines of code and surveillance feeds.
The hunt was on.
. . . .
Three months have passed.
Kouta stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. His physique had transformed, resembling the early, defined musculature of Tokita Ohma. He looked broader, his muscles sharply etched, and he had even gained a few centimeters in height, all thanks to his relentless, gravity-enhanced training.
A notification chimed from his laptop.
He walked over, water dripping from his hair, and looked at the screen. A smile broke across his face. After three months of digital hunting, he had finally pinned down Giran's location. The broker had been a ghost, constantly moving, but Kouta's custom-built tracking AI, fed by hacked cameras and illicit database dives, had finally caught a solid lead.
"Got him."
He activated the predictive algorithm in his custom application, which projected Giran's most likely next location based on movement patterns and known haunts. Seeing the coordinates, Kouta dressed quickly, donning a cap and mask to hide his identity before heading out.
Moving with newfound speed, he activated his travel rules as he ran.
First Rule: "[My body takes no harm from channeling the rotational force of Earth or from any related effects.]"
Second Rule: "[Kazuraba Kouta, when you attack, defend, or are struck, your body channels immense rotational force directly from Earth's spin through the affected limb or point of contact.]"
He shot forward, his speed shattering the sound barrier with a muted thump of displaced air. In mere minutes, he arrived in the designated district.
A burning sensation flared in his pocket. He yanked out his phone. "Ouch," he muttered, holding the device, its casing warped and melting from the intense friction of his sprint.
He quickly swapped his active rules.
First Rule: "[This phone rewinds to its physical condition before any damage occurred.]"
The phone shimmered, its form flowing backwards until it was pristine again. He applied the same rule to his pants for good measure, repairing any microscopic tears.
Opening his tracking app, he confirmed the location and began weaving through the crowd.
'This time, please actually be Giran,' he thought, his patience worn thin by past false leads.
He spotted him: a man in a sharp purple suit and glasses, a goatee framing a smirk as he moved through the foot traffic with practiced ease. Kouta stepped directly into his path, making deliberate eye contact.
"I want to do business with you," Kouta stated in a deep voice.
The man, Okuta Kagero, Giran smirked, amused by the blunt approach from a teenager. He didn't mind; business was business. "Follow me," he said, leading Kouta to a place called Basue. On the way, Kouta quietly reactivated his planetary sync rule, just in case.
They entered a nondescript building and descended into a basement room guarded by several imposing Mutant-types.
"Take a seat," Giran offered, waiting for Kouta to sit before settling into his own plush chair. He leaned forward, studying the young man's face. "So, what kind of business are we talking?"
"I need to buy materials for a tech project, but I'm currently broke," Kouta said plainly.
Giran's expression flickered with confusion but remained professionally neutral. He gestured for Kouta to continue.
"I want to enter the illegal Quirk fighting rings. I hear the payout is substantial. I'll use the winnings to buy what I need," Kouta explained.
Giran let out a short laugh. "Kid, you've got guts coming to me with this. Underground fights? Yeah, I know a few rings that'd eat a fresh face like you alive... or pay you handsomely if you survive. Money up front for the introduction, plus my standard broker's fee on whatever you win. Deal?" He extended a hand.
"Deal," Kouta said, gripping Giran's hand firmly.
"Pleasure doing business with you, kid," Giran said, his smirk widening.