In a world where power decided worth, being born without it was a quiet sentence.
Some people could bend steel with their hands. Others could outrun bullets, command fire, or twist reality itself. Their names filled the screens, their faces carved into statues, celebrated as protectors, legends, gods among humans.
And then there were people like him.
No strength beyond ordinary muscle. No spark of energy waiting to awaken. No hidden bloodline or miracle waiting to be discovered. Just a heartbeat, fragile bones, and a will that refused to kneel.
He learned early that heroes were not equal. Power opened doors, silenced doubts, and forgave mistakes. Power meant survival. Without it, you had to be smarter. Faster. More relentless. Every victory had to be earned twice over, every failure paid in blood.
They laughed when he said he wanted to reach the top.Some pitied him.Others warned him to stop dreaming.
But dreams were the only thing no one could take from him.
While superhumans trained to master their abilities, he trained to master himself. He studied their strengths, memorized their weaknesses, and learned that even gods had limits. In a world ruled by overwhelming force, he chose defiance.
He did not seek to become a legend.
He sought to become undeniable.
And if the world demanded power to stand at the summit, then he would climb it—barehanded, broken, and alone—until even the strongest had no choice but to look up.