Nate’s eyes snapped open.

The voice was still there. Cold. Mechanical.

“Damage Control System,” it said.

Nate blinked, his head pounding. He pushed off the ground and sat up, groaning. “What the hell—”

Ding! A screen popped up in front of him, hanging midair like a hologram.

Damage Assessment Complete.

Damage Score: 41

Damage Level: Severe

Immediate stabilization required.

Rewards: +Level, +All Stats, +Strength, +Endurance, +Vigor, New Skill Unlock

Nate flinched. He swiped at the screen, but his hand went right through it. “What is this?”

Before he could process, the ground beneath him rumbled.

The walls groaned, concrete straining under the weight above. Dust rained down in choking clouds. Then came the crash—stone and steel tearing loose, the ceiling collapsing in slow, inevitable agony.

“No, no!” Nate scrambled to his feet. Too slow. The rubble was coming down fast, an avalanche of destruction.

Ding! The screen flashed again, brighter this time.

Default Skill Set Unlocked.

[Time Stop] Available.

Snap your fingers, quick!

He didn’t think. Instinct took over.

Nate snapped his fingers.

The world froze.

Debris hung mid-fall, suspended in the air. Dust stopped in its tracks, each particle frozen in place. The groan of the wreckage silenced, leaving a ringing void in his ears.

Nate’s breath caught in his throat. He turned, staring wide-eyed at the chaos locked in time.

“What the…” His voice broke the stillness. He reached out to touch a piece of falling rubble. It floated away, ignoring gravity’s pull. He yanked his hand back, heart racing.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, trying to steady himself. “Not freaking out. Definitely not losing it.”

Ding! The screen popped back up.

Time Stop Duration Remaining: 30 Seconds.

All Stats Boosted by 500%.

Stabilize The Structure to Survive.

Optimal Stabilization Sequence Loaded.

Proceed with Caution!

Thump! Nate’s heart thudded hard against his ribs.

Then came the rush.

Electricity buzzed in his veins, hot and alive. It spread fast, lighting up every nerve. His muscles tensed, his senses sharpened. Even the pounding ache in his head vanished. His breathing steadied, his vision cleared.

He felt… Stronger. Faster. Better.

One glance at the wreckage, and he knew exactly what to do.

.

.

.

Nate moved like a man possessed.

His eyes locked on the debris. Everything frozen mid-fall, the whole scene teetering on the edge. It all clicked—angles, weights, stress points. It was instinct, but sharper, cleaner, like the world itself was handing him the answers.

He dashed to the first weak point: a jagged steel beam leaning against a cracked pillar. Without hesitating, he grabbed the beam. It should’ve been impossible to lift, but his body responded effortlessly. Muscles surged with strength, and he slammed the beam upright, locking it into a stable position.

Ding! The screen flashed: Stabilization Point Secured.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Nate didn’t wait. He was already on the move, crossing the space in a blink.

A slab of concrete hung precariously, ready to tip. He threw his weight against it, driving it into a safer position. His feet dug into the ground, anchoring himself. The rubble groaned but settled.

Another chime. Stabilization Point Secured.

The clock ticked down in the corner of his vision. Time Stop Duration Remaining: 20 Seconds.

He was moving faster now. Target after target.

A section of the ceiling sagged, rebar bending under the weight. Nate spotted a steel rod on the ground, hefted it, and hurled it into place like a makeshift support. The ceiling shifted, but held.

10 Seconds Remaining.

Sweat poured down his face, but he didn’t stop. A broken wall leaned at a dangerous angle. He kicked a chunk of debris into place, wedging it tight to act as a brace.

The air hummed, thick with tension. It wasn’t just a feeling anymore. He could sense it—every shift in the balance, every creak of the collapsing structure. One wrong move and it would all come down.

05 Seconds Remaining.

He spotted one last problem: a crumbling column. If it went, everything did. Nate sprinted to it, grabbing a steel bar and shoving it into the gap, reinforcing the column just as time resumed.

The clock blinked.

[Time Stop] Deactivated.

The world came alive in an instant.

The groans of the wreckage came back, louder now, but this time—this time—it held.

Nate hit his knees.

The energy bled out of him, fast as it came. His chest burned, every breath a fight. His heart pounded like a fist inside his ribs. His head? Worse. Pain slammed him in waves, blinding and sharp.

He coughed, hard. Blood sprayed across the rubble.

“Damn it…” His voice was raw, barely there.

His arms gave out. He collapsed face-first into the dust. Blood pooled beneath him, warm and sticky.

Ding! The screen flickered back to life.

Structure Stabilized. Survival Secured.

Now Restoring Damage.

Rewards Unlocked:

+1 Level Up

+1 All Stats

+3 Strength

+5 Endurance

+2 Vigor

New Skill: Structural Awareness

Nate blinked at it, his vision swimming. The edges of the world blurred, darkness creeping in.

His lips twitched. A faint, almost delirious smile.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he muttered, words slurring. “But… It’s awesome.”

The screen dimmed. His world went black.

* * *

Nate coughed.

Golden light stabbed at his eyes. He squinted, groaning softly.

He pushed himself off the ground. Expecting pain, a grunt. But neither came.

Nate froze, halfway up, confused. Sat up first. Then stood. Smooth. Effortless.

Wait.

He stretched his arms. No wince, no struggle. His body moved easily, like it hadn’t just been slammed against a ton of concrete, or hurled blocks of rock like pebbles.

This is wrong.

His uniform told a different story. Yellow, streaked with dirt and dry blood. His blood.

He looked around, dazed. Still at the site. Workers milled about. Someone waved from near the ambulance.

“You alright, Morgan?”

Nate nodded without thinking. “Yeah… I’m good.”

His voice sounded strange to him. Flat. Distant.

The guy approached. Nate recognized him.

“What the hell happened, man? You were just lying there, out of it?” Gabe asked. “I had to carry you all the way here.”

“I…” Nate hesitated.

He wanted to tell Gabe everything. The tunnel. The hand that wasn’t a hand. The black goo. The system. The power… God, it sounded stupid—like something out of bad fiction.

Gabe wouldn’t believe it. Hell, Nate himself couldn’t. How else could he explain feeling fine? Better than fine. His head didn’t hurt. His chest didn’t ache. His hands didn’t shake.

He flexed his fingers, testing them. No stiffness. No strain.

“It’s nothing,” Nate muttered, too quick. “Just... my asthma acting up, I guess.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow, skeptical. Then his expression shifted.

“That’s why I didn’t find your mask!” He rolled his eyes, groaning. “How many times do I gotta tell you, Nate? Wear a Goddamn mask. Always. It protects your face, your lungs. But you never listen.”

Nate forced a grin. “Next time, definitely.”

“You sure?” Gabe’s frown deepened.

“Hundred percent. I always listen to you, don’t I?” Nate clapped Gabe on the shoulder and started walking. Quick steps, headed toward the tunnel.

“Oi, where are ya going?” Gabe called after him, loud enough to draw a few glances.

“Finish my shift,” Nate answered without turning back.

“It’s over.”

Nate checked his watch. 05:15. Still 45 minutes to go. “No, it isn’t.” He could still check out the place, and not let them shave an hour of his wage.

Gabe jogged after him, grabbing his shoulder. “Stop! Our work here is done. Tunnel’s not that damaged.”

“What?” Nate turned, confused.

“You heard me,” Gabe said, motioning back toward the site. “Inspection team gave it the all-clear while you were out. That collapse wasn’t as bad as we thought. Most of the structure’s stable.”

Nate blinked, thrown. “That can’t be right. The place was coming down.”

“Looks bad, sure, but you know how it is.” Gabe shrugged. “Scans didn’t pick up much. Small damage, easy fixes. Hell, no one even knows why you ran back in there.”

Nate’s jaw tightened. “It was worse than that.”

“Maybe to you,” Gabe said, studying him. “But the scanners say otherwise. Weird, huh?”

Weird didn’t even begin to cover it. Nate glanced at the tunnel. The spot where it should’ve all fallen apart.

Instead, it stood solid. Like nothing had ever happened.

His pulse quickened.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Weird.”

“Come on,” Gabe said, steering him around. “Let’s go. You gotta see a doctor, no?”

Nate’s mind was elsewhere. Something wasn’t right. Seriously not.

It wasn’t just the pain that wasn’t there. It was the whole damn situation. His stomach twisted with that nagging feeling.

He glanced over his shoulder. “You know what, let me just take a look.”

Before Gabe could respond, Nate yanked his arm free and bolted.

“Hey!” Gabe’s voice rang out behind him. “Nate! What the hell, man?”

Nate didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

The thought burned in his head: No. The tunnel has to be damaged. It has to be. I saw it. Heard it. Felt it!

He stumbled over a loose rock, arms pinwheeling. Crashed into a pair of workers, muttering rushed apologies. A rack of shovels caught him next—clattering to the ground as he scraped past, ignoring the startled shouts.

Finally, he rounded the corner.

And froze.

The tunnel.

It was intact.

The ceiling stood solid. Lights buzzed faintly overhead. Pipes along the walls gleamed under a layer of dust. The columns were upright, sturdy, unbent.

Nate stopped dead in his tracks, breathing hard. He stumbled forward, his legs weak.

His knees gave out, and he dropped to the ground, hands pressed into the cold floor.

He ran a shaky hand down his face.

Stared at the tunnel.

It looked as if… the hero had never crushed it.

“What the hell did I do?” he whispered.