"You lost so much blood back then..." Michael stood up and reached out toward him, hesitating to move any closer.

Nemo lowered his head slightly, signaling that it was okay to touch him. Michael's hand ventured into his hair, searching for the scar.

Head-patting had almost become some kind of shared, mysterious ritual—everyone seemed to feel the need to touch the scar on amnesiac Nemo's head, as if making sure he was still warm and moving gave them peace of mind. It wasn’t a big deal, really; Nemo always allowed it. Especially since his past self had left Michael with PTSD on an extraordinary level—just look at how he’d charged his way to second place on the superhero rankings.

"The wound has healed. As you can see, I’m still alive. Not a zombie, not Frankenstein’s monster."

"Nemo, I just want you to understand—what you've forgotten, I might actually remember quite a bit of. You don’t have to bear everything alone. Yes, being a founding member of the Nightmare Squad is significant, but this group will renew itself over time. That’s the most recent thing I’ve come to realize."

As time passed, the memories of the Nightmare Squad that Nemo had sealed away remained valuable but were gradually losing accuracy. At the same time, as more people gained knowledge of Nightmare Squad’s past, that information became less rare.

For instance, Michael had already grown to a level where he could hold a fair conversation with Visioner. The number of people aware of the Nightmare Squad leader’s intel—once something Nemo had exclusive access to—was increasing. And now, the world's richest man was listening in on their conversation as well. Given Michael’s sensory and combat abilities as a superhero, it likely wouldn’t be difficult for him to find Visioner and meet face-to-face. It was simply a matter of knowing when to act and when not to—just like Nemo himself.

"Anyway, thanks for letting me know."

Nemo didn’t want to go against the wishes of his past self, but he was also curious about the group he had once belonged to. Hearing these stories without having to pay a price or face danger was, of course, a good deal.

"KS, it’s because of your sacrifice that I became a hero. I wanted to thank you in person." As Michael spoke, it was as if he was pulling out a rusted blade that had been lodged in his body since the day Nemo disappeared.

The truth was, you should be thanking someone else, Nemo thought. But he would bear the weight of that gratitude in place of the previous Nemo. The current Nemo, inhabiting this body, was still paying the price for past actions—amnesia, old wounds, debts, and assassination attempts. There was no untangling them anymore.

"So, I suppose the only appropriate response is, ‘You’re welcome.’ Michael, regardless of the past, present, or future, it has always been my duty."

Nemo extended his hand, shaking the archangel’s, reaffirming their friendship while making a new promise.

"But tell me—putting aside any influence I may have had, is becoming a hero truly your own desire?" Nemo asked.

The question seemed to be a difficult one for Michael. He thought about it for a while before answering."I think so. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have followed you back then. I remember you once asked me something similar—why I joined the Nightmare Squad. That secretive group didn’t only act in the name of justice or heroism. But my answer was simple: To me, everything you did was heroic. It didn’t matter whether the world saw you as heroes or not—that wasn’t the point. As long as there were even a few people like me who continued to hope, I wanted to be the hero they were waiting for."

"If you two uncover new intel about the Nightmare Squad, could you share it with me as well?" Nemo figured that since he was using his old alias, KS Man, as bait, he had the right to a share of the findings.

"Of course. In fact, we were hoping to use your influence to convince them to be less stubborn. There doesn’t have to be so much bloodshed—so many members don’t need to die, and innocent people don’t have to be thrown in prison. Even those who can no longer fight shouldn’t have to live in poverty. I know just the right places for them!" Matthew chimed in.

As of now, the Nightmare Squad was still operating as it always had—remaining in the shadows, carrying out punishments, executing criminals, and paying the price for their brand of justice. That price could mean being hunted by law enforcement, taking revenge from their enemies, being kidnapped, assassinated, or simply retiring into a life of hardship due to old injuries.

Michael wanted to protect ordinary people and persuade the Nightmare Squad to work with superheroes. But the Nightmare Squad only obeyed Visioner. From the very beginning, every member had been told that they had the freedom to refuse and to leave. Visioner couldn't and wouldn’t negotiate on their behalf—Michael had to track down and convince each member himself.

"So, I guess I’m considered retired?" At the very least, since arriving in this world, Nemo hadn’t heard the mysterious voice again. Before this, he had been working steadily as a Chinese chef. According to his Russian roommate, he was quite the homebody.

"I’d say so. You were in the Nightmare Squad long enough," Matthew said on Michael’s behalf, as the latter wasn’t the most articulate person.

But now, Nemo was growing increasingly curious about Visioner. He wanted to meet them in person, to ask who had saved a dying, amnesiac vigilante in the border jungle and wiped out that drug cartel. Maybe once he had trained his abilities further, there would be a chance for another encounter with the Nightmare Squad. After all, his choice of targets overlapped quite well with the ones they hunted.

A classic case of "retired but not really," Nemo thought wryly. It seemed his past self and he weren’t so different after all.

"Michael, aren’t you going to change back? I mean, your usual appearance. Are you even keeping your identity secret from Matthew?"

Nemo didn’t need to know everything all at once. Michael was like boss Liu and Sunny Jie he had first heard about through a phone call after arriving in this world—he knew they had some friendly connection, but they still had to get to know each other properly. Real interactions were what counted. Especially now, when this old friend had become a heavyweight in the superhero world.

Although Michael didn’t wear a mask, his aura would undoubtedly change drastically when he reverted to his human form. With glasses and an unkempt NEET hairstyle, he could walk down the street unnoticed with his head held high.

"This is what he usually looks like now," Matthew interjected. "He can make himself seem more human for you, but it won’t last long. He’s only comfortable in his combat form."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Michael, do you even sleep?" Nemo looked at the archangel’s surreal appearance and suddenly realized his question wasn’t as much of a joke as he had thought.

The hero known as 'Near-God' shook his head. "I don’t need sleep. For early warning purposes, I usually patrol uninhabited regions, and various governments secretly call on me for help."

"The news you see about Michael in the media is less than half of what he actually does," Matthew added.

"That must be exhausting." Nemo could only give the seemingly tireless superhero a reassuring pat. Michael appeared pleased by the acknowledgment, offering a shy smile.

Suddenly, he lifted his head slightly, as if sensing something. "There’s an unusual disturbance beneath the Arctic Ocean. I’m going to check it out."

"Go ahead! If you encounter any non-terrestrial life, remember to bring me a fresh sample," Matthew said casually, waving his hand.

"Goodbye, KS. Goodbye, Matthew." Michael stepped outside, unfolded his radiant wings, and vanished with a sonic boom.

"Did you hear the order of his goodbyes? It was so real! Too real!" Matthew grimaced.

Nemo didn’t respond to his complaint. Instead, he mused, "Did you ever think that Michael’s abilities and behavior resemble a certain famous comic book character? You know, red cape, blue suit, red underwear on the outside?"

"First of all, he was once a devout Catholic, which explains, to some extent, why his transformation looks like that—it's the image of salvation he longed for deep inside. Second, Michael doesn’t read comics or watch superhero movies. When he discovered his powers, he had only a handful of widely recognized superheroes as references. The one you mentioned was simply the most feasible model. Of course, I gave plenty of suggestions too."

"And he didn’t take your advice?" Judging by the billionaire’s expression—like someone who had just been stabbed in the ego—Nemo knew he had hit the mark.

"So he never maintained a separate civilian identity? He’s always like this?"

The Grimm Group could have arranged everything Michael needed to reintegrate into society—background identity, safehouses, the works. But Matthew had said Michael was "too busy" to help his only close comrade survive his energy-depleting crisis.

"Rather than comparing him to Superman, he’s more like a nuclear attack submarine. You’ve read the Old Testament—you should know that angels aren’t exactly kind beings." Matthew started making some coffee. After being fed baby food by Nemo, he needed some spiritual comfort.

"He doesn’t really look human. As you said, he’s closer to the angels in the Bible. Wherever there are dragons and demons, that’s where he flies. Unlike us, he doesn’t run out of energy and have to rest. His 'Fragment' must be especially dangerous," Nemo commented.

"Michael desires very little. So far, his only personal request has been to locate and protect the Nightmare Squad. I have to grant it—otherwise, his humanity will crumble even faster... We all will. Right now, he’s one of the few people strong enough to suppress my beastly instincts."

Matthew’s sudden revelation caught Nemo off guard.

"So, you top-tier heroes are in a dangerous state of mutual dependence?" Nemo had always known reality wasn’t as cheerful as in comics, where superheroes could work solo or team up joyfully just because they were all on the side of justice. But he hadn’t expected the situation to be this precarious.

A beast-shifter will eventually lose himself to the beast. Nemo thought of Leviathan’s apocalyptic form, of Angie’s human soul trapped in the body of a giant lizard.

Yesterday, Leviathan had effortlessly clamped down on Salamander. Would there come a day when he simply swallowed the giant lizard whole?

Nemo himself was the key piece in Matthew’s elaborate self-preservation plan. The more he learned, the harder it became to walk away—for others, and for himself.

Matthew knew this all too well. That conniving bastard.

What would Nemo, another superpowered being, eventually turn into? There was no answer yet. If anyone on Earth had a chance of figuring it out, it was Matthew Grimm—assuming he retained his sanity and humanity.

"The damn meteor shower! I need to figure out what the hell I saw in the space station back then." Matthew sighed. "It’s been over a year since the meteor shower fell, and I still can’t even complete a preliminary classification of the debris. That alone shows how dangerous these things are. Each Fragment is like a blank periodic table waiting to be filled in."

"Did Michael’s golden sword come from a Fragment?" Nemo asked. He still had no idea what his own fallen object looked like.

"A lot of people think so, including villains who try to steal his weapon. But actually, no. The golden sword is more like a crystallized formation—it's a manifestation of his power and will. Michael once said that his Fragment is something invisible and intangible," Matthew replied without hiding the truth. It seemed the billionaire was dead set on pulling Nemo into their little circle.

"So some Fragments completely fuse with their hosts?" Nemo asked, a little concerned as he patted his chest. "Angie mentioned that ‘Hyena’ extracts body tissue suspected of hosting Fragments."

"Some might work the way you said, but it varies case by case. For example, Mosquito Man can only hold a Fragment in his hands, making it easy to steal. Usually, if a Fragment is that easy to take, it means the owner lacks compatibility. Here’s something spooky—Fragments choose their owners. Some of my collection mysteriously vanished from heavily secured vaults. I even sealed Fragments in welded metal containers filled with strong acid, and they still disappeared." Given that Matthew, the world’s richest man, owned a vast collection of Fragments and extensive knowledge about superpowers, his words carried undeniable weight.

Money that could quantum tunnel and fly away! Nemo gave the billionaire a sympathetic look.

"Having multiple Fragments is like taking drugs and stimulants for superpowered people. Some believe drugs and stimulants can make them stronger, and in the short term, that’s not entirely wrong. But we all know what happens to addicts. Besides, actual combat isn’t a sports competition where the one with the highest stats wins—the only victory is survival. I tend to believe that even if someone seizes some unknown treasure from beyond Earth, an incompatible Fragment is more likely to destroy a superpowered person’s body and abilities, let alone an ordinary human. Oh, but who cares? I’m just rambling," Matthew sprawled out on the couch, limbs stretched in all directions.

Even though Nemo often found Matthew’s ramblings excessive, this definitely wasn’t one of those times. Unfortunately, reality was just as Matthew described—who cared?

"The short-lived superpowered individuals prove the point," Nemo said. He and Tolya used to mock urban legends about superpowered individuals constantly fighting each other and chasing after power-ups. Some extremists even spread rumors that Leviathan and Michael had grown so strong because they hoarded a massive amount of villains' Fragments—an argument that didn’t hold up at all.

The reasoning was simple. To Nemo, Fragments were essentially a genetic modification lottery. The human body had limits—it couldn’t handle a bit of electricity, radiation, atmospheric pressure, or oxygen deprivation without issue. Not to mention the countless things that could shatter the mind.

Awakening powers through a compatible Fragment was pure luck. Trying to forcibly stack multiple powers would only lead to either complete system failure or turning into a monster.

If Fragments could be stacked so easily, then after a year since the meteor shower, there should already be countless people on par with Matthew and Michael. But superpowers were still a new phenomenon, and superstition ran rampant. Even when real cases debunked misconceptions, conspiracy theorists would simply claim that the strong were gatekeeping a game-breaking bug to level up first.

"By the way, ‘guilt’ is extremely important to Michael’s humanity. You’d better keep him tethered to it—don’t let him find easy redemption, or he’ll turn into a monster in no time," Matthew added, getting back to the key point.

"And how am I supposed to do that? I don’t like hurting my friends," Nemo said, instinctively rejecting the idea, though he understood its importance.

"Someone here constantly inflicts psychological abuse on me," the world’s richest man accused pitifully.

"Don’t you enjoy it? I should start charging you," the curly-haired youth replied coldly.

"Let me grab my checkbook from the study. I've never been a Sugar Daddy before—guess you’ll be my first."

For a moment, Nemo had foolishly hoped that Matthew might take something seriously for once. How naïve.

"Go ahead. If the number is less than 80% of your total assets, don’t even bother writing it. And for lunch, just transform and go eat raw fish in the lake."

"Your superhero codename should be Behemoth," Matthew huddled on the couch, shivering.

*Behemoth is one of the two great beasts created by God on the sixth day. Leviathan rules the sea, while Behemoth, the largest land creature, is said to dwell in the deserts east of Eden, possessing insatiable greed, capable of devouring a thousand mountains a day.