Souta stood perched atop the towering Torre Glòries, his camouflaged form blending seamlessly into the warm hues of dawn over Barcelona. The city stretched out below him in all its vibrant glory, alive with winding streets, stunning architecture, and the early signs of life stirring to greet the day. But Souta wasn’t there just to sightsee. Not anymore.

“Alright, Sentinel,” Souta said, his voice low and firm. “Let’s see what this city’s up to.”

“Activating citywide scan,” the suit replied, its calm, masculine tone resonating in his ears.

The visor over Souta’s eyes lit up, his view of the city overlaid with a grid-like map and cascading lines of data. Infrared signatures and structural diagrams filled his vision as the suit analyzed everything in its range. It was mesmerizing—and slightly overwhelming.

“This is insane,” Souta murmured, watching as the suit highlighted people walking along streets, cars rolling through intersections, and even stray cats darting across alleyways. He was just about to marvel at the sheer detail of it all when something caught his attention—a red marker flashing on his HUD.

“Sentinel,” Souta said quickly, leaning forward as the data zoomed in on a nearby side street. “What’s that?”

“Potential criminal activity detected,” the suit replied. “Multiple heat signatures consistent with an unauthorized entry into a commercial establishment.”

Souta frowned, his heart picking up. “You’re saying… it’s a break-in?”

“Affirmative,” Sentinel confirmed. “Five individuals. Armed. Current location: alleyway adjacent to Carrer del Bisbe. Hostile intent identified.”

Souta stared at the flashing marker, a strange mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling in his chest. “This is it,” he thought. “My chance to do something. To actually be someone.”

“Hey, Sentinel,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “Can I… do this non-lethally? I mean, I don’t want to—”

“Non-lethal combat mode is available,” the suit interrupted. “Integrated weaponry can be disabled for reduced threat levels. Tactical measures can be adjusted to prioritize incapacitation.”

Souta nodded, exhaling slowly. “Alright. Non-lethal it is. Let’s do this.”

His HUD shifted, the display providing him with a navigational path to the alleyway. The thrusters on his suit hummed to life, and he leapt from the rooftop, soaring gracefully through the air. The rush of wind against his face did little to calm his nerves as he descended toward the source of the disturbance.

The alleyway came into view quickly, its shadows concealing the movements of five figures huddled near the back entrance of a shop. Souta landed silently on the roof of an adjacent building, crouching low as he observed them.

The gang of delinquents was in the middle of breaking through the shop's steel door, using a crowbar and other tools to pry it open. They muttered to each other in Spanish, their words quick and sharp, though Souta couldn’t make sense of them.

“Alright,” Souta whispered. “Time to make an entrance.”

He leapt from the rooftop, landing in the alley with a loud thud as his suit disengaged its camouflage. The neon blue veins of light along his armor flared to life, illuminating the narrow space and drawing the attention of everyone present. The gang froze, turning to stare at the imposing figure that had suddenly appeared before them.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, one of the gang members stepped forward, brandishing a crowbar and speaking rapidly in Spanish.

“¿Quién demonios se supone que eres? ¿Un idiota en un disfraz?” the man sneered, his tone laced with disbelief.

Souta froze, the unfamiliar words crashing against his ears like static. “Uh… Sentinel?” he muttered nervously. “I have no idea what they’re saying.”

“Activating real-time translation,” Sentinel replied.

The man’s voice echoed in Souta’s ears again, this time translated seamlessly into English. “Who the hell are you supposed to be? Some kind of freak in a costume?”

Souta raised his hands, trying to look non-threatening despite the intimidating glow of his suit. “Listen, I’m here to stop you. Walk away now, and no one has to get hurt,” he said firmly.

The suit’s translation system kicked in immediately, his words relayed in fluent Spanish: “Escuchen, estoy aquí para detenerlos. Aléjense ahora, y nadie saldrá lastimado.”

The gang exchanged glances, a mixture of confusion and irritation flashing across their faces. Then, they burst into laughter.

Another gang member, this one with a knife in hand, stepped forward. “Estás bromeando, ¿verdad? ¿Crees que puedes asustarnos con tu traje brillante? Lárgate antes de que te hagamos arrepentirte.”

“You’re joking, right?” the translation echoed in Souta’s ears. “You think you can scare us with your shiny suit? Go home before we make you regret it.”

Souta swallowed hard, his nerves spiking. “This is it. My first fight. What if I mess up? What if—” He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “Sentinel,” he muttered under his breath. “Tell me I can handle this.”

“You possess superior physical capabilities and advanced tactical support,” the suit replied calmly. “You can handle this.”

The gang wasn’t waiting for him to decide. The man with the crowbar lunged forward, swinging the heavy tool with surprising speed. Souta barely managed to dodge, the movement awkward and uncoordinated as he stumbled back.

“Come on, focus!” he muttered to himself, his hands clenching into fists.

The second man, the one with the knife, darted in next, slashing at him with a quick, fluid motion. This time, the suit reacted instinctively, guiding Souta’s arm to block the attack. The blade glanced harmlessly off his armor, the impact sending a sharp vibration through his arm but leaving him unharmed.

“Strike now,” Sentinel advised. “Neutralize the threat.”

Souta hesitated for a split second before throwing a punch. The suit amplified his strength, and his fist connected with the man’s chest, sending him sprawling to the ground with a pained grunt. Souta stared at his own hand, wide-eyed.

“Whoa,” he whispered. “That… worked.”

The others weren’t deterred. Two more gang members rushed at him, one swinging a chain and the other brandishing a broken bottle. Souta ducked under the chain, his movements still clumsy, but the suit compensated, twisting his body into a fluid dodge. He countered with a kick, sending the chain-wielder flying into a pile of crates.

The last man hesitated, glancing between Souta and his fallen companions. “Te vas a arrepentir de esto,” he growled, backing away slowly. “Volveremos, y la próxima vez—”

“You’re going to regret this,” the translation echoed. “We’ll be back, and next time—”

“Next time, I’ll be here waiting,” Souta interrupted, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. The glow of his suit flared brighter as he took a step forward, and the man turned tail, sprinting down the alley.

Souta let out a shaky breath, his heart still racing as he surveyed the scene. The gang had been stopped, and no one was seriously hurt. He’d done it—his first act as… whatever he was now.

“Mission complete,” Sentinel said. “Threat neutralized.”

Souta leaned against the wall, the weight of what he’d just done finally sinking in. He couldn’t stop the small, nervous laugh that bubbled up from his chest.

“Okay,” he muttered. “I think I could get used to this.”

Souta leaned against the alley wall, catching his breath after his first real "heroic" act. His mind was still racing with the adrenaline of the fight, but a new thought tugged at him—a faint memory from something he'd read online a few days ago. It hit him like a bolt of lightning.

“Wait… today’s Comic-Con!” Souta blurted out, his voice echoing faintly in the narrow alley. His eyes lit up, the excitement momentarily washing away the nerves from his earlier encounter. “And not just any Comic-Con—the big one. San Diego Comic-Con!”

He turned toward the sky, his grin widening as the idea began to take shape. “Sentinel,” he said, a hint of mischief in his voice, “can you get me to California? Specifically, San Diego?”

“Flight capabilities are sufficient for long-distance travel,” Sentinel replied. “Estimated time to San Diego: five hours at maximum speed.”

Souta’s grin faltered slightly. “Five hours? That’s… uh, longer than I thought. But still doable!” He paused, another thought creeping into his mind. “Wait, I was supposed to work today, wasn’t I?”

“Affirmative,” Sentinel said. “Your scheduled shift began twenty minutes ago.”

Souta groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t just no-show… I’ll get fired! Sentinel, can you, uh, make a phone call for me? Like, pretend to be me?”

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“Voice modulation and communication functions are available,” Sentinel confirmed. “Initiating call to registered employer.”

“Wait, right now?!” Souta yelped, but before he could protest further, the suit’s systems buzzed faintly, and a ringing sound echoed in his ears.

The call connected, and Souta heard the familiar voice of his no-nonsense manager. “Souta, where are you? You’re late.”

“Uh, hi, boss,” Souta said nervously, his voice cracking. “I mean—Sentinel, can you make me sound calm and confident or something?”

The suit’s tone didn’t change, but Souta felt a faint vibration in his throat as Sentinel modulated his voice. When he spoke again, his words came out smooth, confident, and far more professional than he felt. “Hi, it’s Souta. Sorry for the short notice, but I’m not feeling well today. I need to take the day off.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “You couldn’t have called earlier?” his manager said, irritation clear in her voice.

“I apologize,” Souta replied, the suit’s calm modulation doing all the heavy lifting. “I wasn’t sure how I’d feel this morning, but it’s gotten worse. I’ll make it up with extra shifts if needed.”

Another pause, then a sigh. “Fine. Just don’t make a habit of this. We’re short-staffed as it is.”

“Understood. Thank you,” Souta said, the call disconnecting immediately after. He let out a long breath, slumping slightly against the wall.

“That was way too close,” he muttered. “Thanks, Sentinel. You really saved my butt there.”

“Task completed,” Sentinel replied. “Shall we proceed to San Diego?”

Souta grinned. “Oh, absolutely. Let’s go.”

The thrusters on his suit hummed to life, and Souta launched into the air once more, quickly activating camouflage mode to avoid any unwanted attention. The sprawling city of Barcelona disappeared beneath him as he soared westward, crossing oceans and continents in his quest to reach the legendary convention.

The flight was long, but the breathtaking views kept him entertained. He flew over lush jungles, vast deserts, and shimmering coastlines, the sun rising higher in the sky as he raced across time zones. Occasionally, he’d spot wildlife or bustling cities below, marveling at the sheer scale of the world he was now free to explore.

“This is unreal,” Souta thought, a wide grin spreading across his face as the suit cut through the clouds. “I’m literally flying across the planet to go to Comic-Con. This might be the coolest thing I’ve ever done.”

As the hours passed, he noticed Sentinel periodically adjusting their trajectory and speed to optimize the journey. The suit’s seamless efficiency made him feel like he was riding a private jet—if private jets could fly faster than most commercial planes and look ridiculously cool while doing it.

Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, the sprawling city of San Diego came into view. The Pacific Ocean glittered in the midday sun, and the iconic skyline rose up against the clear blue sky. Souta’s HUD highlighted the San Diego Convention Center, where thousands of fans had already gathered for the world-famous Comic-Con.

He descended toward the city, careful to stay in camouflage mode as he flew over highways and buildings. The streets surrounding the convention center were packed with cosplayers, vendors, and fans, their excitement palpable even from the air.

“This is it,” Souta thought, his grin widening. “The holy grail of nerd culture. And I’m literally flying in like some kind of superhero.”

He landed on the roof of a nearby building, the thrusters powering down with a soft hiss. He stood atop the structure, gazing down at the bustling crowds below. The energy of the convention was infectious, and for the first time in a long time, Souta felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

“Alright, Sentinel,” he said, the excitement in his voice impossible to miss. “Let’s see what Comic-Con has to offer.”

Souta descended from the rooftop, deactivating his camouflage as he stepped into the buzzing streets surrounding the San Diego Convention Center. The sight of colorful cosplayers, bustling crowds, and towering banners advertising the latest movies and games made his heart race with excitement. This was Comic-Con, the pinnacle of fandom, and for the first time, he was walking into it—not as a regular guy, but as something extraordinary.

The moment he stepped onto the sidewalk, heads turned. The sleek, glowing lines of his suit and its impossibly intricate design immediately caught the attention of the fans around him.

“Whoa! Dude, check out that suit!” someone exclaimed, pointing in awe.

“That’s gotta be from some crazy sci-fi series,” another said, stepping closer to get a better look. “Is it based on a game? A movie? The detail is insane!”

Souta froze for a second, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of attention. Fans were snapping pictures, pulling out their phones to record him, and shouting questions from every direction.

“That’s so cool! What’s it from?”

“Is this a new Halo design?”

“No way, it’s gotta be inspired by Mass Effect! Look at those lights!”

Souta rubbed the back of his helmet awkwardly, suddenly grateful the visor hid his face. “Uh…” he stammered, trying to think of a response. Then, an idea struck him. He straightened up, puffing out his chest slightly as he spoke.

“It’s my own character,” he said, his voice steadying. “The Iron Sentinel.”

The crowd around him murmured in approval, their awe only growing. “No way, you made this?” one fan asked, stepping closer. “The design is incredible! The glowing details, the armor plating—it’s like something out of a blockbuster movie!”

Souta felt a small spark of pride as he nodded. “Yep, completely original,” he said, trying to sound casual. “I’ve been working on the concept for a while now.”

The compliments kept coming as more and more people stopped to admire the suit. Some even asked for photos, and Souta awkwardly posed for a few, giving a thumbs-up or a casual salute. He couldn’t help but smile under the helmet. “This is amazing,” he thought. “I’ve never gotten this much attention in my life.”

As he made his way toward the convention entrance, the excitement only grew. Fans followed him, some pointing him out to their friends, others speculating about whether he was part of an official reveal. But when he reached the main entrance, a realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Oh, crap,” Souta muttered under his breath. “I don’t have a ticket.”

He stared at the large banner over the entrance, the words “SOLD OUT” glaring back at him mockingly. The line of attendees shuffled forward, scanning their passes and wristbands as they entered, while Souta stood awkwardly off to the side.

“Sentinel,” he whispered. “Uh… can you help me with this? Please tell me you can.”

“Accessing online ticketing database,” Sentinel replied calmly. “Ticket procurement in progress.”

Souta blinked, a mix of relief and confusion washing over him. “Wait, you can just… get me a ticket like that?”

“Transaction complete,” Sentinel said. “Digital ticket linked to your unique neural signature. You may now proceed.”

Souta grinned, stepping toward the entrance with renewed confidence. He approached the ticket scanner, and as he moved closer, Sentinel transmitted the digital pass directly to the system. The machine beeped, its screen flashing “ACCESS GRANTED” in bright green letters.

“Enjoy the convention!” the staff member at the entrance said, barely glancing at him.

Souta stepped inside, his grin widening as the vibrant, chaotic energy of Comic-Con enveloped him. Booths lined every corner, cosplayers filled the halls, and the hum of excited chatter echoed through the massive convention center. For the first time in his life, Souta felt like he truly belonged—like he wasn’t just a spectator, but someone worth noticing.

“Alright,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement as he took in the spectacle around him. “Let’s see what all the hype is about.”

Souta walked through the bustling halls of San Diego Comic-Con, his sleek, glowing suit turning heads at every step. Cosplayers in elaborate costumes, fans clutching bags of exclusive merchandise, and booth attendants hawking their wares all seemed to stop what they were doing to admire the imposing yet mesmerizing design of his armor.

“Hey, Iron Sentinel, can I get a pic?” one fan shouted, holding up their phone.

“Yeah, sure!” Souta replied, trying to keep his voice calm and confident. He posed with the fan, giving them a casual thumbs-up as the crowd around him grew thicker. Every few steps, more people stopped him, either asking for photos, admiring the intricate details of his suit, or excitedly guessing which franchise his “costume” was from.

“I love this guy’s originality!” one person said.

“Seriously, this is next-level design,” another added. “You’d think he was here for an official movie promo!”

Souta grinned beneath the helmet, soaking in the praise. “This is amazing,” he thought, standing a little taller. “I’ve never felt this cool before. It’s like I’m actually the main character for once.”

As he made his way deeper into the convention center, something caught his eye: a large banner stretched over a stage in one of the exhibit halls. The words “BEST FAN DESIGN CONTEST” were printed in bold, colorful letters, accompanied by images of previous years’ winners posing in their costumes. A crowd was already gathering near the stage, and a line of contestants in intricate outfits had begun to form.

Souta’s gaze drifted to the sign beneath the banner, detailing the contest’s grand prize:

“Winner of Best Fan Design Gets an Exclusive Meet-and-Greet with Aria Valentine!”

His heart skipped a beat. Aria Valentine?!

Aria Valentine was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood—a stunningly beautiful actress who had taken the world by storm in the past few years. She was best known for her breakout role as Solaris, the fiercely powerful yet compassionate superhero in the blockbuster movie Star Ascendant. Her golden blonde hair, radiant smile, and piercing blue eyes had made her the face of countless magazine covers, and her performance had solidified her as the “queen of superhero films.”

“Not only is she insanely talented,” Souta thought, his excitement growing, “but she’s also drop-dead gorgeous. And now they’re saying I could actually meet her?”

He glanced back at the stage, where the contestants were already lining up to showcase their costumes. People in expertly crafted armor, sleek sci-fi suits, and creative interpretations of their favorite characters stood ready to compete. The host, a cheerful man in a colorful blazer, was hyping up the audience as the first contestant stepped forward.

Souta hesitated for a moment. “Do I even stand a chance? These people are insanely good,” he thought, watching a woman in a towering mecha suit pose for the judges. But then he looked down at his own armor—the Iron Sentinel, glowing faintly with its neon-blue veins of light.

“This isn’t just a costume,” he reminded himself. “It’s real. It’s one of a kind. And it’s mine.”

“Sentinel,” he whispered, stepping toward the registration desk near the stage. “What do you think? Should I do this?”

“Based on audience reception thus far, your design is likely to receive favorable feedback,” Sentinel replied calmly. “Additionally, the reward aligns with your interests.”

Souta grinned. “Alright, that’s all I needed to hear.”

He approached the registration desk, where a staff member greeted him with wide eyes. “Wow, your suit is incredible!” she said, typing quickly into her tablet. “Name?”

Souta hesitated for a split second before answering confidently, “The Iron Sentinel.”

The staff member smiled, nodding as she entered his name. “You’re all set! Good luck—you’re definitely going to turn some heads out there.”

As Souta moved to join the line of contestants, his nerves began to bubble up again. “Okay, just stay calm,” he thought, adjusting his stance. “I can do this. Just gotta act like I’ve been doing this hero thing forever.”

He glanced at the stage, where the cheering crowd was getting louder with each contestant’s turn. Meeting Aria Valentine felt like a long shot—but for the first time in his life, Souta felt like he had a real chance to stand out.