CHAPTER 1: THE CATALYST AWAKENS
The world changed in an instant, though the seeds had been sown long before anyone realized. Geneticists had warned of anomalies appearing in DNA, but no one could have foreseen the emergence of The Catalyst gene—a mutation that would forever alter 70% of the global population.
Some said it was the next stage in human evolution, a gift from the universe to prepare for a greater destiny. Others called it a curse, a ticking time bomb of chaos and destruction. For most, it was something far simpler: survival of the fittest in a world no longer bound by the laws of nature.
Krishna sat on the edge of the abandoned rooftop, his legs dangling over the crumbling concrete. He had no powers—no super strength, no fire-wielding hands, no psychic connection to the world. His body was painfully ordinary. But his mind? That was another story.
Below, the streets of the city were a symphony of chaos. Two Catalysts were battling, their powers tearing apart buildings like tissue paper. One was a towering man with skin made of molten rock, spewing lava with every punch. His opponent, a slender woman clad in black, moved with the grace of a dancer, shards of ice spinning around her like a deadly halo.
The crowd watched in awe, fear, and exhilaration. To most people, this was the new normal. To Krishna, it was something else entirely: a chessboard.
“Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, his voice calm but laced with frustration. He adjusted his glasses, his sharp eyes analyzing the combatants’ every move. “The lava guy telegraphs his punches. Too much power, not enough control. Ice girl could win if she stopped showing off.”
He leaned back against the rusted rail, pulling out a battered notebook. Sketches, notes, and equations filled the pages—battle strategies, power synergies, weak points in even the most invincible-seeming abilities.
“You’re not watching this for fun, are you?” a voice said behind him.
Krishna didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Aliyah, his childhood friend and one of the rare non-Catalysts like him, stepped out of the shadows. Her arms were crossed, her expression equal parts exasperated and intrigued.
“I don’t have time for fun,” Krishna replied, scribbling something in his notebook. “Every fight is a lesson. Every mistake is an opportunity.”
Aliyah rolled her eyes. “You sound like you’re training for something. Hate to break it to you, genius, but without powers, you’re not exactly hero material.”
Krishna snapped the notebook shut and stood up, his gaze locked on hers. “Who said anything about being a hero?”
Aliyah frowned, her unease growing. “Then what are you planning?”
Before Krishna could answer, an explosion rattled the building. The shockwave nearly knocked them off their feet. Down below, the lava man roared in pain as the ice woman finally struck a decisive blow, freezing his legs and shattering them with a single, devastating kick.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but Krishna didn’t flinch. His mind was already working, breaking down the fight second by second.
“She’s good,” he said, more to himself than Aliyah. “But she’s predictable. If I had five minutes with her, she’d be unstoppable.”
Aliyah stared at him, her frustration boiling over. “You’re impossible, you know that? What’s the point of all this? You don’t have powers, Krishna. You’re just…you.”
“And that’s exactly why I’ll win,” he said, his voice steady and resolute. “Everyone’s so obsessed with their powers that they’ve forgotten how to think. Strength without strategy is just chaos. But strategy? Strategy can bring gods to their knees.”
Aliyah opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped herself. There was something about the way Krishna spoke, something unshakable. He wasn’t just confident—he was certain.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Work?” she asked, trailing after him. “What kind of work?”
Krishna smirked. “The kind that’ll make the world remember my name.”
As they disappeared into the city, the ice woman below raised her hands in victory, unaware that her fight was already being dissected, her weaknesses cataloged, and her potential greatness unlocked—all by a 15-year-old boy with no powers but a mind sharp enough to shape the future.
The Chains of Hell
Krishna and Aliyah walked side by side down the cracked sidewalk, their footsteps echoing in the desolate street. The city around them was a shell of its former self—partially reduced to rubble from the Catalyst battles. Once a bustling metropolis, it was now eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of emergency broadcasts and the occasional crackle of damaged streetlights.
They turned a corner, and the flickering neon of a small, dilapidated store caught Krishna’s attention. The sign above it sputtered and blinked, but something about it seemed to pull him in. His instincts, honed through years of careful observation, told him to pay attention. Despite the grim atmosphere, there was an energy in the air that felt just off enough to be interesting.
Aliyah raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “What’s this? Getting nostalgic for hero culture now?”
Krishna ignored her, his gaze locked on the store as he reached for the door handle. He knew better than to dismiss something as trivial as a rundown shop—it could be a clue, or even a hidden opportunity. The sense of unease wasn’t unwelcome; it felt more like an invitation. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The air in the store was heavy with the scent of old books and musty fabric. The dim lighting barely illuminated the cluttered shelves filled with strange trinkets and faded knick-knacks. At the back of the room, a row of aging televisions lined the wall, each broadcasting a different hero battle.
Aliyah, unable to contain her curiosity, glanced over Krishna’s shoulder at the screen in front of them. “Who’s this?”
On the broadcast, the image of a hero filled the screen. He was tall, his figure broad and imposing. He wore an armored suit lined with chains, each one coiled and ready to strike. The newscaster’s voice filled the silence.
“#5 Hero, The Chained Hero, known for his ‘Chains of Hell’ ability,” the anchor droned. “Famed for turning simple, raw power into a devastating force, The Chained Hero has proven that mastery over one's ability can shift the tides of battle—no flashy powers needed. His chains are an extension of his will, crafted from an alloy capable of withstanding even the most extreme heat.”
On the screen, The Chained Hero was mid-battle, surrounded by his chains. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them flying toward his opponent—a villain whose ability to manipulate fire was as destructive as it was unpredictable. Some of the chains were glowing red-hot, reaching temperatures of 1500°C, slicing through the air and burning everything in their path. The flames of the battle danced around him as the chains twisted and spiraled, a perfect balance of control and violence.
Aliyah’s eyes widened. “Wait—chains that hot? That’s insane.”
Krishna’s gaze sharpened, studying the battle with calculated focus. There was a rhythm to The Chained Hero’s movements—an undeniable elegance in the chaos. The chains were not just weapons; they were a part of him, woven into the fabric of his fighting style.
“They’re not just about heat,” Krishna muttered. “It’s the weight and misdirection. He doesn’t just burn—he controls the environment, forces his opponent into positions where they’re overwhelmed. The heat is a distraction, not the real threat. It’s the weight, the unpredictability of the chains, that makes him dangerous.”
Aliyah was visibly frustrated. “You’re really breaking down his entire technique right now?”
Krishna nodded without looking away. “He's not invincible, but he's effective. He’s built on simplicity—his chains are his power, but it’s his mind that guides them. Most people would panic in the face of such destruction. He’s got control.”
Aliyah shook her head, bemused by Krishna’s cold analysis. “So what, you’re just gonna go up to him and ask to ‘study’ his powers? That’s not exactly normal behavior.”
Krishna glanced at her with an almost imperceptible smile. “There’s nothing normal about what’s happening in this world. I don’t need powers. I just need to understand how people use them.”
He turned to the man behind the counter, whose face was unreadable. “Where can I find him?”
The man raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering with curiosity. “You’re serious about this, huh? Well, you’re not the first to ask. The Chained Hero doesn’t like attention, but he’s been spotted in the industrial district lately.”
Krishna’s eyes glinted with anticipation. “Perfect.”
Aliyah exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “Of course. This is your plan, isn’t it? Track down another hero, analyze their techniques like some sort of combat encyclopedia, and then what? You’re not even a hero.”
Krishna’s voice was calm, unwavering. “I don’t need to be a hero. I just need to be better than them.”
Before Aliyah could respond, Krishna was already heading for the door. “Let’s go.”
“You’re always on some ridiculous mission,” Aliyah muttered under her breath, but she followed him without question.
As they stepped back into the streets, the sound of clashing chains echoed faintly in the distance. Krishna’s mind was already at work, dissecting everything he had seen. With every battle, every new hero or villain, he learned something crucial—something that would bring him closer to his goal.
He wasn’t interested in the fight itself. It wasn’t about defeating The Chained Hero—it was about understanding how to break him.
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Back on the street, the fading silhouette of a figure stood in the shadows of an alleyway, watching Krishna and Aliyah as they walked away. The figure’s eyes burned with intensity, recognizing the danger Krishna posed. They had been tracking him for days, and now it was time to make their move.
The game had begun.
The Plague. Doctor Unleashed
The air in the city was thick with unease, an unsettling tension that seemed to hang over everything. Krishna’s focus remained sharp as they moved through the maze of desolate streets, but something was nagging at the back of his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was about to disrupt the fragile balance of this world.
As if on cue, a loud explosion echoed in the distance, followed by the screeching sound of metal scraping against concrete. Krishna’s instincts flared, his eyes narrowing as he searched the skyline. The faint smell of burning flesh mixed with the acrid stench of poison in the air, and his pulse quickened.
A high-pitched scream tore through the night, the sound of terror so raw it pierced the quiet. Aliyah’s hand instinctively moved toward her side, where she kept a small blade for emergencies, but Krishna’s expression remained calm. He turned to her.
“Stay close,” he ordered quietly, the edge in his voice unmistakable. “We need to find the source.”
They pushed forward, following the screams and the chaotic sounds of destruction. As they rounded a corner, they were met with a gruesome sight—a group of civilians, stumbling through the streets, their bodies wracked with spasms. Blood dripped from their mouths, their skin discolored as if rotting from the inside out. The air was thick with poison.
Aliyah gagged, her stomach churning. “What the hell happened here?”
Krishna’s sharp gaze swept over the scene. His eyes narrowed in recognition. “Plague. Doctor”
"Plague doctor?" Aliyah's voice wavered in disbelief.
Krishna nodded, his face darkening. "A mass murderer. The worst kind of monster. He’s not just killing—he’s making people suffer before they die. He uses his Catalyst, Hell Snake, to inject lethal poisons into his victims. No one is spared. He enjoys the chaos and pain, the unpredictability of it all.”
A distant roar echoed from the heart of the chaos, and Krishna’s eyes locked on the source—an imposing figure in the distance, cloaked in shadows. Standing tall, his silhouette was defined by the massive, jagged blade in his hand—a five-foot long sword with saw teeth along its edge. The blade shimmered in the faint light of the burning buildings around them, reflecting the gleam of death itself.
It was him.
The figure took a step forward, the blade slashing through the air with a sickening screech as it tore into the ground. His movements were methodical, controlled, but the violence was evident. Plague doctor’s sword sliced through the flesh of anyone who crossed his path, and he didn’t care about the method—whether they were burned alive, poisoned, or simply left to bleed out. Every victim was a target for his sadistic games.
Krishna could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He had heard the rumors about Plague—how he killed over a thousand people in the span of a few months, each death more brutal than the last. His Catalyst, Hell Snake, could manifest any poison known to man, and Plague doctor wielded it with terrifying precision. The blade, with its serrated teeth, was just as much a tool of pain as it was of death.
“Is that him?” Aliyah whispered, her voice tinged with both fear and disbelief. “The monster?”
Stolen novel; please report.
Krishna didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on Plague, studying every movement, analyzing the way he swung the blade, the way he savored each death. Krishna was no stranger to violence, but Plague doctor was something else entirely. Something broken, something not even a Catalyst could justify.
But Krishna wasn’t afraid.
“You don’t just kill people,” Krishna muttered under his breath. “You break them. But not today.”
Aliyah glanced at him, her eyes wide. “Krishna, what are you—”
Before she could finish, Krishna was already moving, his steps swift and deliberate. His mind was working at full speed, calculating, planning.
Aliyah cursed under her breath and followed. She knew Krishna’s mind better than anyone. He wasn’t running from the fight—he was preparing to engage it in his own way.
They arrived at the heart of the devastation, and Plague doctor’s twisted laugh echoed through the empty streets, bouncing off the decaying walls. He turned, eyes glinting with malicious joy as he saw Krishna approach.
“Well, well,” Plague doctor drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “The little strategist comes to play. You’re brave, but bravery is wasted on fools like you. You’ll be dead within minutes, just like the rest.”
Krishna’s gaze never wavered. He wasn’t intimidated by the man’s presence, nor was he moved by his words. “I’ve seen worse.”
Plague’s laugh grew louder. “Is that so? You’re not the first to think they could take me down. You won’t even know what hit you when my Hell Snake starts working.”
He raised his massive sword and swung it in a wide arc, the serrated edges of the blade tearing through the air like a predator’s fangs. The motion was fluid, natural, like he had done it a thousand times before.
Krishna, however, was already a step ahead. He ducked under the swing, narrowly avoiding the deadly teeth of the sword. Aliyah darted to his side, ready to react if necessary, but Krishna’s mind was moving faster than their physical bodies could keep up.
Plague doctor grinned, as if enjoying the dance. “You’re fast, but you’ll still die. You’ll choke on your own blood before you can make a move.”
Krishna didn’t respond to the taunt. He studied Plague doctor’s movements, the way his sword swirled around him like an extension of his body. But Krishna wasn’t looking for an opening in Plague’s physical movements—he was looking for something deeper. The flaws that would allow him to exploit the situation.
“You like to play with poison,” Krishna said, his voice quiet but firm. “You enjoy seeing people suffer.”
Plague doctor’s smile grew wider. “Suffering is beautiful. And it’s the one thing I can give to this broken world. Nothing is more honest than pain. It’s the truth no one can avoid.”
“I’m not interested in your philosophy,” Krishna replied, his voice cutting through the madness. “I’m interested in ending this.”
Plague doctor took a step forward, and Krishna’s gaze flickered toward the blade, analyzing its weight, the way it moved in the air. He saw the weakness—just a slight hesitation in the way Plague wielded the sword when swinging it in a wide arc. A small moment of vulnerability. Krishna made his move.
With a single, fluid motion, Krishna closed the gap between them, using Plague doctor’s overextended swing as leverage. He grabbed the base of the sword’s hilt, twisting it and using Plague doctor’s own momentum against him. In the blink of an eye, Krishna slammed his knee into Plague doctor's abdomen, forcing the man back with enough force to knock the wind out of him.
Plague doctor staggered back, surprised by the sudden counter, but he quickly recovered, his eyes narrowed in rage.
“You’re going to regret this,” he snarled, but Krishna was already several steps ahead.
“Not today,” Krishna replied calmly.
The battle had just begun.
A Narrow Escape
The chaos of the battle with Plague doctor was far from over. Krishna and Aliyah had barely managed to land the first blow before the twisted murderer recovered and lashed out with a violent, snarling rage. Plague doctor’s attacks were relentless, each swing of his serrated blade capable of slicing through anything in its path. Krishna, his mind working on overdrive, knew they couldn’t afford to stay in the fight for much longer—not with the police closing in and the damage escalating with every second.
“Krishna, we can’t take him down here,” Aliyah hissed, her eyes darting around as she scanned the area. “We need to go. Now.”
Krishna met her gaze, his face unreadable. He was always a step ahead, his brain calculating the next move even in the heat of battle. The last thing he wanted was to let Plague doctor escape, but the tactical reality was clear: they couldn’t defeat him here and now without more preparation. The police were coming, and the chaos they were in the middle of wouldn’t help their position.
“I know,” Krishna said flatly, grabbing Aliyah’s arm as he quickly pulled her toward an alleyway. “This isn’t the place. We’ll get him another time. Let’s move.”
Aliyah shot him a glance, clearly frustrated but also understanding. She had learned to trust Krishna’s instincts—there was always a bigger picture, something more intricate than the immediate rush of violence. As much as she hated retreating, she knew when it was the right call.
They moved swiftly, ducking into the alley where shadows offered some semblance of cover. The distant wail of sirens grew louder, and Krishna’s mind was already calculating their next steps. Plague doctor had the police on his tail, and the last thing they needed was to be caught in the middle of a manhunt. They couldn’t let him slip through their fingers, but neither could they afford to draw attention to themselves.
“Don’t even think about it,” Aliyah muttered, reading Krishna’s expression.
He shot her a sideways glance, smirking slightly. “I wasn’t going to chase him down now. We need to plan this. I’m not going after him blind.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Aliyah said, already reaching for her communicator. “We get out of here first. Then, we find out where he’s going. The police won’t catch him, but if we track him, we can. And when we do, we’ll end it.”
Krishna nodded. It wasn’t the most immediate answer, but it was the right one. They couldn’t waste time chasing Plague through a warzone of their own making. They needed information, strategy, and time to get to him where he’d be more vulnerable.
They slipped deeper into the alley, moving swiftly but quietly. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind them as a pair of police officers rounded the corner, their flashlights flicking back and forth in a desperate search for Plague doctor. They were close—too close. Krishna’s instincts screamed at him to act, but he held back, waiting for the right moment.
The officers passed by without noticing them, too focused on their pursuit of Plague. Krishna exhaled, tension leaving his body just for a moment. But the relief was fleeting.
They continued moving through the darkened streets, weaving through alleyways and abandoned buildings until they reached a safehouse on the outskirts of the city. It was small, unassuming, and equipped with just enough to hide them for a while. Krishna locked the door behind them and turned to Aliyah.
“Get me the info. Plague doctor’s not going to stop. We need to track him down before he kills again.”
Aliyah nodded, pulling out a small device and connecting it to the city’s surveillance network. The process was seamless, a well-practiced procedure they had used before. Within moments, she had access to the police reports, as well as any additional footage from nearby cameras.
“I’ll be honest, Krishna,” Aliyah said, her tone low, “Plague doctor’s a ghost. The police are getting nowhere with him. They know his MO—poisoning, mutilation, the whole gruesome package—but they can’t track him. This bastard’s been on the run for weeks.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Krishna muttered. “I’m not going to let him run any longer. He’s making a mistake by not finishing what he started.”
Aliyah shot him a questioning glance but said nothing. Krishna wasn’t exactly in a talking mood, and that usually meant he had a plan—or an obsession.
A beep from the device interrupted their conversation. Aliyah’s eyes lit up with a flash of excitement.
“I’ve got something,” she said, pulling up a live feed from a nearby camera. “Plague doctor’s on the move. Looks like he’s heading for a warehouse near the docks. That’s where he’s been holed up.”
Krishna’s gaze hardened. “Good. That’s where we’ll find him.”
Aliyah sighed. “Just remember—he’s not like the other villains we’ve faced. You’re not just up against a Catalyst who kills. You’re up against a man who thrives on suffering. He won’t fight clean.”
Krishna’s eyes never left the screen, but his words were sharp, as if cutting through the weight of her warning.
“I don’t need him to fight clean. I just need him to fight.”
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Meanwhile, on the streets, Plague doctor had slipped away from the police. His movements were calculated, silent, a ghost in the chaos. His catalyst, Hell Snake, had aided him in vanishing from sight, the poison spreading through the city’s ventilation system, clouding the air with enough toxins to make the streets his playground. He smiled to himself as he left a trail of death in his wake. The sirens and flashing lights were mere background noise to his twisted mind. His real goal was chaos, fear, and the visceral satisfaction of watching the world burn.
Plague doctor’s escape was quick, but he knew that Krishna wouldn’t be far behind. That boy had something about him—a sharpness, an intensity that couldn’t be ignored. But Plague had dealt with threats before, and Krishna would prove no different.
The real fun, he thought, would come when they finally clashed.
the first Fight
The acrid smell of burning flesh grew stronger as Krishna moved closer to Plague Doctor. The air was thick with dread, but Krishna’s expression remained calm, his sharp mind already piecing together a strategy. His fists clenched, and his stance shifted subtly—a telltale sign of his Muay Thai training.
Plague Doctor turned his head, his unsettling mask glinting in the light of the fires. His blade dragged against the ground with a harsh screech, leaving a jagged trail in the concrete. “Ah,” he said, his voice muffled and distorted through the beak-like mask. “Another lamb for the slaughter.”
Krishna ignored the taunt, stepping forward with measured confidence. His stance widened, his weight balanced perfectly on the balls of his feet. His arms raised, fists close to his face, elbows sharp and ready to strike. Aliyah, frozen in a mix of fear and awe, watched from the shadows.
“You’re not going to poison anyone else,” Krishna said, his voice low and cold.
Plague Doctor tilted his head, amused. “No powers. Just fists. How quaint. Shall we see how long you last?”
Krishna’s eyes narrowed. “Longer than you think.”
THE FIRST CLASH
Plague Doctor lunged, his massive blade swinging in a deadly arc. The serrated edge gleamed, its teeth dripping with a sickly green poison that hissed as it hit the air. Krishna sidestepped with precision, the blade missing him by inches. Using the momentum of his dodge, he closed the gap between them and delivered a devastating elbow strike to Plague Doctor’s chest.
THUD!
The force sent the larger man stumbling back, but his mask hid any expression of pain. Plague Doctor steadied himself, his grip tightening on his weapon. “Not bad,” he growled. “But let’s see how you handle this.”
He thrust his hand forward, a serpent-like tendril of green mist coiling out of his palm. Krishna recognized the toxin for what it was—an airborne venom meant to suffocate its victims. Without hesitation, Krishna ripped off his scarf and tied it around his face, creating a makeshift filter. He moved in again, undeterred.
Plague Doctor swung his blade in a wide arc, aiming to cleave Krishna in half. Krishna ducked low, his movements fluid and precise, and countered with a sharp knee strike to Plague Doctor’s thigh. The impact was brutal, sending a ripple of shock through the villain’s leg.
“Your strength is impressive,” Plague Doctor said, his voice laced with mockery. “But brute force won’t save you.”
Krishna smirked under his scarf. “Good thing I’m not relying on brute force.”
THE TEMPO SHIFTS
Plague Doctor lashed out again, this time with a series of quick, unpredictable swings. Krishna weaved between the strikes like water, his body a blur of movement. Every dodge brought him closer, every step calculated. When Plague Doctor overextended on a downward slash, Krishna seized the opportunity.
He leaped into the air, driving his shin into Plague Doctor’s ribcage with a devastating flying knee. The impact sent a sickening crack through the air, and Plague Doctor staggered back, gasping for breath.
But Krishna didn’t let up. He followed with a rapid series of strikes—elbows, knees, and punches—all targeting Plague Doctor’s weak points. The villain’s towering frame began to falter under the relentless assault.
“Stay down,” Krishna growled, driving an elbow into Plague Doctor’s collarbone.
Plague Doctor roared, his blade slamming into the ground as he used it to steady himself. The green mist around him thickened, swirling like a storm. “Enough!” he bellowed, releasing a wave of toxins that surged outward like a shockwave.
Krishna jumped back, narrowly avoiding the poisonous blast. His mind raced. He’s losing control. The toxins are his crutch. If I can disrupt his rhythm, I can win.
BREAKING THE MONSTER
Plague Doctor charged, swinging his blade wildly. Krishna stayed light on his feet, his movements becoming sharper, more deliberate. He let the villain tire himself out, each missed strike draining more of his energy. When the time was right, Krishna struck.
He stepped into Plague Doctor’s guard, deflecting the massive blade with his forearm before driving his knee into the villain’s abdomen. As Plague Doctor doubled over, Krishna delivered a crushing elbow strike to the back of his head, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Plague Doctor tried to rise, but Krishna was relentless. He stepped on the villain’s wrist, forcing him to drop the blade, and followed with a brutal roundhouse kick to the side of his head. The mask cracked under the impact, revealing part of Plague Doctor’s face—a twisted visage of scars and hatred.
“You think you’re clever,” Plague Doctor rasped, blood trickling from his mouth. “But you’re just delaying the inevitable.”
Krishna leaned down, his voice calm but deadly. “The only thing inevitable is your defeat.”
With that, he delivered the finishing blow—a downward elbow strike that shattered the remnants of Plague Doctor’s mask and left him unconscious on the ground.
THE AFTERMATH
Krishna stood over the defeated villain, his breathing steady despite the grueling fight. Aliyah rushed to his side, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and relief. Her hands trembled as she touched his arm, as though needing reassurance that this moment was real.
“You… you actually beat him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Without powers.”
Krishna untied the scarf from his face, his sharp features glistening with sweat. A faint smile tugged at his lips, though his eyes remained serious. “I told you. Strategy beats strength.”
His gaze shifted back to Plague Doctor, now lying motionless on the ground. The villain’s cracked mask revealed a sliver of his scarred face, twisted in an expression of both pain and defiance. The green mist that had once surrounded him had dissipated, leaving only the acrid scent of poison and burnt debris in the air.
“But this isn’t over,” Krishna said, his voice low and resolute. “There are more like him out there. And I’ll be ready.”
The distant sound of sirens began to grow louder, their wailing cutting through the eerie silence that had settled over the battlefield. Aliyah’s grip on Krishna’s arm tightened. “The police are coming. What do we do?”
Krishna’s expression softened as he glanced at her. “We disappear.”
With one last look at Plague Doctor, Krishna and Aliyah vanished into the shadows, leaving the broken villain as a testament to the power of the human mind and the relentless spirit of someone who refused to be underestimated.
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THE ARREST
When the authorities arrived, they found Plague Doctor barely conscious, his blade shattered beside him. The scene was a chaotic mess of destruction—evidence of the intense battle that had taken place. The toxic mist had long since dissipated, but its lingering effects were evident in the scorched ground and the faint, noxious smell that clung to the air.
The officers, clad in protective gear, approached cautiously. One of them nudged Plague Doctor with the barrel of his gun to ensure he was incapacitated. Satisfied that the villain posed no immediate threat, they quickly restrained him with reinforced handcuffs designed for Catalyst-powered criminals.
“We’ve got him,” one officer said into his radio. “Plague Doctor is in custody.”
News of the arrest spread like wildfire. Reporters swarmed the scene, desperate for details. Despite the police’s attempts to keep the situation under control, speculation about the mysterious hero who had taken down Plague Doctor began to dominate the headlines.
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KRISHNA’S RISE TO FAME
By the next morning, Krishna’s name was on everyone’s lips. Footage captured by bystanders—grainy but unmistakable—showed him delivering the final blow to Plague Doctor. Social media exploded with praise for his bravery, dubbing him “The Powerless Protector.”
Interviews and news segments dissected every detail of the fight, while experts marveled at his ability to take down a dangerous Catalyst-powered villain without any superhuman abilities of his own. The public’s admiration for Krishna grew, and he found himself thrust into the spotlight as an unlikely hero.
At first, Krishna was hesitant to embrace the fame. The constant attention felt overwhelming, and he worried that it might paint a target on his back. But Aliyah, ever the optimist, encouraged him to use his newfound platform to inspire others.
“You showed everyone that you don’t need powers to make a difference,” she told him. “People need to hear that.”
Reluctantly, Krishna agreed. He began giving interviews, sharing his story, and emphasizing the importance of strategy, training, and resilience. His words resonated with many, particularly those who felt powerless in a world dominated by Catalysts.
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THE ESCAPE
Months later, just as the world began to settle from the chaos Plague Doctor had unleashed, news broke of his daring escape from prison. The reinforced facility, designed to hold even the most dangerous Catalyst-powered criminals, had been infiltrated and compromised. Security footage showed Plague Doctor calmly walking out of his cell, his mask and weapons returned to him by an unknown accomplice.
The authorities were in disarray. The media frenzy reignited, and fear spread like wildfire. If Plague Doctor had escaped, what havoc would he wreak next?
Krishna’s phone buzzed incessantly as news outlets and government officials alike sought his input. Aliyah, seated beside him, read the headlines with a sinking feeling in her chest.
“He’s out,” she whispered. “What are you going to do?”
Krishna didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the screen, his jaw tightening. Finally, he stood, his posture calm but his eyes burning with determination.
“I’ll stop him again,” he said simply. “And this time, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get back up.”
As he began preparing for the inevitable confrontation, Krishna couldn’t help but feel the weight of his growing reputation. The world saw him as a hero, but he knew the truth—this fight wasn’t about fame or glory. It was about protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves.
And he would do whatever it took to ensure that Plague Doctor’s reign of terror came to an end.