The rain had slowed to a miserable drizzle by the time Nova reached the nearest Hero Association branch office in City Z. Neon signs flickered above the entrance: Hero Association – Branch 17. A bored security guard outside did a double-take when he saw the soaked, shirtless man with glowing blue veins fading from his arms.
"You… uh… here for medical?" the guard asked, eyeing the faint bruises that were already disappearing.
Nova gave a tired half-smile. "More like paperwork. I just killed the Deep Sea King. Solo."
The guard's eyes widened. He fumbled for his radio. "Uh—yeah. Get inside, sir. They're already losing their minds on the comms."
Inside, the lobby was chaos.
Staff ran between terminals. Multiple screens showed looped footage: Nova tanking the King's haymaker, the crater-forming uppercut, the final meteor punch that turned a Demon-level threat into fish paste. Reporters crowded the glass doors outside, shouting questions.
A harried woman in a blazer—ID badge reading "Mumen Rider Liaison – Emergency Desk"—spotted him first.
"You're Nova?"
He nodded.
She grabbed his arm (then immediately let go when she felt how warm he still was). "Come with me. Now. The board is convening an emergency re-evaluation session. They want you on video call in five minutes."
Nova followed her through winding corridors to a small conference room. A large monitor dominated one wall. Several high-ranking Association officials were already visible—some in suits, others in hero costumes. He recognized a few faces from memory: Sitch (the strategist with the glasses), Child Emperor (looking annoyed in his high chair), and—sitting silently in the background—Tatsumaki, arms crossed, green aura faintly pulsing.
Sitch spoke first, voice clipped.
"Hero Nova. C-Class, provisional B-Class 1 after the Mosquito Swarm. We have confirmed footage and multiple witness statements—including B-Class heroes Lightning Max and Bunbunman—that you single-handedly eliminated the Demon-level threat known as Deep Sea King. Is this accurate?"
Nova leaned back in the chair, still dripping rainwater onto the carpet.
"Yep. It was getting back up after the first few hits, so I kept hitting until it stopped."
Child Emperor adjusted his goggles. "Your power signature is inconsistent with any registered hero or esper. You absorbed kinetic energy from its attacks and redirected it with exponential scaling. Correct?"
Nova shrugged. "Pretty much. The more I take, the harder I hit back. It's… growing."
Tatsumaki's voice cut through like a knife. "Growing how fast?"
Nova met her gaze on the screen. Even through pixels, the pressure was palpable.
"Fast enough that I don't know the ceiling yet."
Silence.
Sitch cleared his throat. "We've run preliminary simulations based on the footage. Your final punch output is estimated at 18–22 tons of force, with potential for much higher if you chain more impacts. That puts you comfortably in A-Class territory already. Possibly higher."
A murmur rippled through the officials.
"But," Sitch continued, "protocol requires a formal physical and combat re-evaluation test for jumps this drastic. Normally we'd schedule it in a week. Given the public attention and the threat level of recent monster activity, we're accelerating it."
Nova raised an eyebrow. "How accelerated?"
"Tomorrow morning. 0900 sharp. Headquarters main testing ground. Full S-Class oversight. You'll face live combat simulations, power measurement, endurance trials—and if necessary, a spar with a volunteer S-Class hero to confirm your ceiling."
Tatsumaki snorted. "If he's bluffing, I'll crush him myself."
Nova just smiled. "Looking forward to it."
Sitch nodded. "Until then, you're under temporary protection detail. No solo patrols tonight. We don't want you poached by the media or… other interested parties. There's a suite prepared on the top floor. Rest. Eat. We'll provide new clothes."
The call ended.
The liaison woman—whose name tag read "Aya"—escorted him to an elevator.
As the doors closed, she glanced at him sideways.
"Off the record… how are you feeling? After something like that?"
Nova looked at his reflection in the polished metal doors. Sharp features, calm eyes, body that looked like it had been sculpted rather than grown. No exhaustion. No pain lingering. Just quiet, coiled power.
"Honestly?" he said. "I feel like I'm just getting started."
The elevator dinged.
Top floor. A spacious suite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the rain-slicked city. A full buffet waited—steak, rice, vegetables, protein shakes. A rack of fresh hero costumes in black and silver tones, sleek and modern.
Nova ignored the food for a moment. He walked to the window and looked out.
Somewhere out there, Saitama was probably microwaving discount meat or doing laundry.
Somewhere closer, monsters were still spawning.
And tomorrow, the entire Hero Association would try to measure just how far beyond "normal" he'd already become.
He cracked his knuckles. A faint blue spark jumped between fingers.
"Let's see how high the bar really is."
End of Chapter 5