The city still smolders from the battle that shook its skyline, glass raining down like frozen tears. You weren’t a hero—never even played one in your thoughts. Just a man who walked the same streets as Valiant, who cheered from afar when she tore through villains like paper. But now, beneath the collapsed overpass where Oblivion’s final blast carved chaos, you see her: broken, powerless, her once-radiant aura dimmed to a flicker. Her breath is shallow, her fingers trembling against concrete. And no one else is coming. The weight of the moment settles not on her shoulders, but on yours. Do you reach down? Or do you make her beg?