Back when I was a kid, I was always bullied. Even when I became an adult, it didn't stop. People still treated me like I was beneath them — like I didn't matter. But when I got my powers… that changed.
When I awakened, I decided I wouldn't take it anymore. Every bruise, every humiliation, every fake smile—they all built up to this.Heroes? They're just actors getting paid to play god. The government? Corrupt cowards hiding behind the word "justice."
If that's the world I live in, fine. I'll be the villain it deserves.But not the kind they fear for no reason—the kind they need.I'll destroy everything that's rotten and rebuild it from the ground up.
My name is Kai Mercer, and this is how it started.
It was an ordinary day, just me doing deliveries behind the old mall. The air smelled like rust and rain, the pavement cracked under my shoes. Then I heard a sound—like glass breaking underwater.
When I turned, I saw it: a tear hanging in the air, glowing faint blue and humming like it was alive. Then something crawled out—a twisted creature with long claws, skin like wet stone, and no face. It was small but wrong, every movement snapping like broken frames in a film.
I froze. The imp snarled and came right for me.
My hands shot up on instinct—I didn't even know why. I shut my eyes because I didn't want to see it happen.
But it didn't.
The sound stopped. No claws. No pain. Just silence.
When I opened my eyes, the imp was standing inches away, mid-swing, but something invisible held it still—like time itself had forgotten to move. The air around my hands shimmered faintly, warping the light. I could see little black flecks in the space between us, like dust… no, like atoms that weren't sure where to go.
I didn't understand it. I just knew it was me.
The imp started to tremble, its claws twitching uselessly against the frozen air. I didn't plan what I did next—I just pointed.
The second my finger aimed at it, a hole opened where I pointed.No light, no flame—just emptiness, like someone had deleted part of the world.
The imp's arm disappeared into it first, then its head, and the rest followed, sucked in without a sound. The hole vanished right after, leaving nothing but the smell of burning ozone.
I stared at my hands, shaking. I didn't feel strong. I didn't feel powerful.I felt real for the first time in my life.
I tested it later that night in my apartment. I pointed at a broken mug on my counter. The ceramic cracked and fell apart in slow motion. I tried again, thinking of it fixing instead—and the shards came back together, edges glowing for a moment before sealing perfectly.
That's when I realized what it was:I could control matter itself.Not with fire, not with lightning—just thought.
When I focused, I could break things down or pull them together. I could erase pieces of the world or rebuild them like puzzles. The more I tried, the more natural it felt, but the more it hurt—headaches, nosebleeds, heat behind my eyes like my brain was melting.
At first, I used it to help people. Fixing things. Saving people stuck under rubble. Making clean water by purifying dirty puddles. I thought I could be someone good.
But the world doesn't want "good."
The first time I saved someone, a hero showed up late, threw me aside, and told the cameras he did it.The first time I exposed a corrupt businessman using my power to find hidden documents, they called me a terrorist.The first time I fought back against someone hurting me, they called me a monster.
So fine.If being good gets you hated, then I'll embrace being bad.
I stopped hiding. I stopped apologizing.
I started erasing.
The bully from high school who bragged about ruining my life—he vanished one night while walking home.The supervisor who used me as a scapegoat—he woke up to find everything he owned turned to dust.The first hero I caught taking bribes—I left him standing in front of a crowd, his mask melted into his face, the word liar carved into the wall behind him.
They called me a villain.They gave me a name: The Auditor
But I'm not doing this for fun. I'm not the kind of monster they paint me as.
I go after the ones who deserve it—the ones who cheat, abuse, enslave, manipulate, destroy.I erase corruption one piece at a time, from politicians to heroes to anyone hiding behind power.
And someday soon, I'll form my own crew.People who understand the pain. People who can keep me in check when my anger pushes me too far.Because even a villain needs someone to pull him back from the edge.
But that's later.
For now… this is how it began.The bullied nobody, the delivery worker, the man the world ignored—who learned to control matter itself,and decided to tear the world apartso he could rebuild it the right way.
"Rebuild it the right way."That line echoed in my head for weeks.
And so I started
The night air over Halcyon shimmered with rain. Streetlights reflected off puddles like shards of glass, and the city's government tower glowed gold against the storm.
Kai—The Auditor—walked in without disguise. The red mask hung around his neck like a medal he hadn't decided to wear yet.
Inside, the lobby guard straightened up."Sir, the building's closed."
Kai's tone was calm. "You're underpaid for what you see, right?"
The guard blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You've been working twelve-hour shifts because the city froze wages while doubling security funding. Tell me I'm wrong."
The man hesitated.
Kai nodded once. "Don't stop me. Go get coffee. You deserve that much."
The guard hesitated, then lowered his hand from his holster. "Coffee sounds good." He walked out, leaving the doors open.
Kai stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the top floor, and whispered to himself, "First audit."
The office was lined with awards, certificates, and a wide city-view window. Councilman Avery—thin, expensive, drunk on importance—looked up from his glass.
"Kai Mercer," he said, smirking. "Or should I say The Auditor? You think wearing a mask makes you important?"
Kai sat across from him, no expression. "I don't think I'm important. I think you're loud. Let's see if we can fix that imbalance."
Avery chuckled nervously. "You know who you're threatening?"
Kai tilted his head. "I don't threaten. I verify."
He pointed at Avery's desk. The wood grain began to warp and twist. The councilman stumbled back as his glass melted into sand and dripped off the table.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Avery shouted.
Kai's eyes were steady. "Just matter. Adjusted. Like how you adjust numbers to hide your campaign bribes."
"I don't—"
The Auditor's voice didn't rise. "Three offshore accounts. Seven fake non-profits. Two construction deals with no land."
Avery's breath hitched. "How do you—"
"Because unlike you," Kai said softly, "I check things."
He lifted his hand slightly. The chair Avery had been sitting in disintegrated into powder. The man fell to his knees.
"Tomorrow, you'll resign. You'll confess. If you don't, I'll open a hole in every floor between you and the truth. You'll drop through all of them."
He turned to leave.
Avery croaked, "You can't fix everything by yourself."
Kai paused at the door. "I know. But I can make people admit what's broken."
Hours later, he walked the alleys behind the Hero Quarter. Rain tapped the hood of his coat like fingertips.
A man in a tattered trench coat waited by a flickering neon sign—smoke curling from his lips.
"You the one they call The Auditor?" he asked.
Kai stopped two steps away. "Depends who's asking."
"I got info. Names. The guild leaders who run the underground fights. But it ain't free."
Kai stared at him. "You want payment for helping clean the city?"
The man smirked. "Everyone's got a price, boss."
Kai raised one finger and pointed at the wall beside him. A black hole opened silently, eating a brick clean out of the wall before sealing shut.
"Careful," Kai said. "Your price might vanish before you spend it."
The smirk fell. "Alright. Alright. No charge. I'll talk."
"Names," Kai said.
"Voss. Not Kara, her brother—Marcus. He runs the auctions under the docks. Trafficking relics and Gate cores. Iron Crown heroes guard the shipments."
Kai's voice barely carried emotion. "Figures."
The man shivered. "You really gonna take on Iron Crown? Alone?"
Kai looked up at the city lights. "Alone is cleaner. No witnesses. No noise."
"You sound like you hate them."
Kai's tone flattened. "No. I hate pretending."
By dawn, he stood outside The Halo, a bar where off-duty heroes drank their guilt away.Inside, music thumped. The air smelled like whiskey, sweat, and lies.
He pushed open the door. Conversations died like a switch had been flipped.
A burly man in armor looked up from his drink. "You lost, red mask?"
Kai took the stool next to him. "No. Just taking attendance."
The bartender swallowed hard. "You can't be here."
Kai turned to the armored man. "You're Victor Lane. Former Iron Crown. Suspended for 'reckless use of ability.' Want to know what really happened?"
Victor's jaw clenched. "You think you know me?"
"I don't think. I checked. You killed a civilian in a Gate raid. Your guild covered it up. You drink to forget, but the bottle remembers."
Victor grabbed him by the collar. "Say that again."
Kai didn't flinch. "Say what? That you traded truth for a paycheck?"
Victor swung. His fist stopped inches from Kai's face.
Because Kai had made the air between them solid—a wall of frozen space. Victor's knuckles cracked against it.
Kai whispered, "Try that again, and I'll erase your arm to the elbow."
The hero backed off, hand trembling. "You're insane."
"No," Kai said, standing. "I'm exact."
He left a credit chip on the counter. "That's for the drink I didn't have. Keep it. Use it to get out of this city before the next audit."
He walked out into the rising sun, rain still dripping from his coat.
By noon, Kai stood on a rooftop overlooking Halcyon. The skyline shimmered under the light, glass towers hiding rotten hearts.
His voice, low and even, carried in the wind."I can't fix it all at once. But I can make them look me in the eye before they lie again."
He pulled the red mask over his face—the smile gleaming against the storm clouds.
"I am The Auditor," he said to no one and everyone. "And the world is overdue."
The Iron Crown research block looked polite from the outside—clean concrete, polite signage, government logo.Kai Mercer saw a coffin with a budget.
He strolled in humming a half-remembered tune, mask pulled up just enough to show his grin.The scanners blinked red.
"Aw, it doesn't like me," he said to no one. "That's fine, I've never been big on mutual feelings."
He waved a hand. The scanner's metal frame crumbled like stale bread. Sparks spat across the floor."See? We're friends now."
The Lab
Three armored heroes stood over a strapped-down girl. Her hair was white at the ends, skin raw where electrodes had been.
"Don't squirm," one of them said. "You'll mess up the data."
Kai clapped his hands once. "Hi there! Quick question—are we running a science fair or a funeral?"
The guards turned, rifles up.
"Oh good, guns. I was worried this would be boring."
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm The Auditor," he said with a flourish. "Here to check your ethics! Spoiler: you don't have any."
One fired. The shot never landed; the bullet blinked out of existence.
Kai looked down at his chest, then back at the gunman. "Rude. You missed my heart—it's very small but very offended."
He pointed lazily. A hole opened in the air. The man's weapon vanished into it, and so did half his forearm. The scream that followed was high and brief.
The other two rushed him.
"Boys, boys, no autographs—"
They hit an invisible wall. One bounced off, the other slid sideways as the floor under him dissolved. He fell through a clean circle that sealed behind him like an eye shutting.
Silence returned, heavy and wet.
Kai exhaled. "You see? Everyone wants to be the hero until the paperwork shows up."
The Rescue
He walked to the girl and tapped her metal restraints. They turned to dust."You're free, darling. Try not to faint, it ruins the moment."
She rubbed her wrists, trembling. "You killed them."
Kai shrugged. "They tripped over an audit hole. Occupational hazard."
She stared. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because you scream at the right pitch," he said lightly. "Means you still care. I like that."
Her eyes flicked to the monitors showing hundreds of other pods. "There are more of us."
Kai's grin widened. "Then let's give them a group exit."
He snapped his fingers. The walls shivered. Screens cracked. Pipes burst. The ceiling groaned.
"What are you doing?!" she shouted.
"Renovations!" He laughed—sharp, delighted, manic. "Open floor plan!"
A blast rolled through the hall. Machines folded inward, the floor rippled, and one by one the pods imploded, spilling stunned survivors into the corridors.
Kai spread his arms like a ringmaster. "Ladies and gentlemen, you've failed inspection!"
He turned to the girl. "Time to leave before the ceiling writes us a love letter."
The Collapse
They ran through corridors turning to powder behind them.Rhea—he'd learn her name later—stumbled. "You're insane!"
He chuckled between breaths. "Probably! But look how productive insanity is!"
A squad of heroes rounded the corner, shouting.
"Freeze!"
Kai stopped mid-stride, smile vanishing. The air went still.
When he spoke again, the humor was gone. "You first."
The hallway folded. The squad disappeared in silence.
Rhea stared, breath caught. "You just—"
"Filed them under 'done.'"
They burst out into the storm just as the building collapsed behind them. A bloom of dust rose into the rain, red lights flickering out one by one.
Kai watched the ruin, tilting his head. "Well, that's that. Guess the audit failed."
The Offer
They found cover under a half-fallen billboard. Steam curled off his coat; he looked half-ghost, half-comedian fresh off stage.
Rhea's voice shook. "You destroyed everything."
"Yeah," he said brightly. "Five stars. Would demolish again."
"You could've just… freed them."
"I did! Then I freed the rest of the atoms for good measure."
She swallowed. "You like it, don't you?"
He looked at her, grin twitching. "Like it? No. Love it? Maybe." Then softer, almost sane, "It's the only time the world feels honest."
She hugged her knees. "What now?"
Kai squatted down in front of her. "Now you help me. You've got survivor energy. I need that."
"I'm not like you."
"Good! One of me is enough to keep the census interesting." He offered a hand. "Come on, Rhea. Let's audit the rest of the world."
She stared at the hand, then at the crater still glowing in the distance. "Fine," she said. "But if you kill anyone innocent, I'll stop you."
He laughed—a real one, bright and cruel. "That's the spirit! Every clown needs a conscience."
She took his hand, and the rain hissed around them like applause.