Stage 1: Denial
Subjects initially refuse to acknowledge their special ability. Type Greens will attempt to rationalize or ignore the phenonon in various ways. In so cases, they remain in this phase indefinitely. Their abilities are self-suppressed and may never surface again.
Phase 2: Experintation
At this point, the subject identifies with their ability and begins to test its limits. Type Greens typically adopt one of two approaches: either cautiously and thodically over ti, or through impulsive, dramatic leaps in usage.
In the live broadcast room, the atmosphere was dead silent for half a second.
Then—boom.
"F*CK!!! What just happened?!"
"Did he just crush soone into a pulp? Like, mid-air?!"
"Are you kidding ? This is what you call a useless first-level reality bender?"
"Oh my God... this isn't a superpower. This is godhood!"
The stream exploded with shock and fear, disbelief evident in every comnt. What had begun as a simple observation of a suspected Type Green had now evolved into a horrifying spectacle. A man had been compressed into a basketball-sized chunk of at with a re wave of the hand. The visuals were so surreal, many thought it was CGI at first.
Inside the command center of S.H.I.E.L.D., a heavy silence blanketed the room.
No one spoke.
Even the usually composed Director Nick Fury wore a grim expression, his one good eye fixed firmly on the monitor.
"This one's dangerous," he muttered.
The reality bender on the screen had already demonstrated at least two distinct and advanced capabilities: mind control and spatial distortion.
Neither power was unknown to Nick Fury. In fact, S.H.I.E.L.D. had encountered cases involving either of those abilities before.
But soone possessing both—and using them so casually—posed a whole new level of threat.
And what chilled Fury the most was this: the reports still classified this individual as a Level 1 reality bender.
If that was Level 1, then what in God's na would a Level 2 or 3 look like?
In the Extraordinary Chat Group, chaos broke out as soon as the footage aired.
[Deadpool]: "Daaaamn, who does this guy think he is? A dark god or sothing?"
[Tony Stark]: "Classic power-trip. So edgy teenager gets reality-altering powers and instantly turns into a tyrant. Predictable."
[Steve Rogers]: "This isn't just teenage angst. A smart reality bender is more dangerous than 10 nuclear bombs. I don't think Jas and his team are going to make it out."
[Hawkeye]: "Sothing feels off. This isn't normal. Either we got the wrong info... or sothing bigger's in play."
He wasn't the only one with that gut feeling.
Back in the field, Jack and two other agents put down their binoculars, pale and shaken.
"There's a dense cluster of green life-form particles around him," said one of them.
Jack turned to Jas, their squad leader. "Is it him?"
Jas gave a tight nod and picked up his radio.
"This is Jas. Target identified. Preliminary analysis suggests the subject has reached Stage 3: Stability. Particle density supports the hypothesis. This may be a Level 2 Type Green."
Phase 3: Stability
The subject has reached full command of their abilities and understands their boundaries. They can consciously choose when and how to use their reality shifts. More importantly, they can choose not to use them.
"Zzzz—Jas, this is command. Repeat that?" crackled a voice over the radio.
Jas repeated calmly, "Target is likely Level 2. He's no longer experinting—he's stable."
The instructor on the other end let out a helpless sigh.
"Your luck is... sothing else."
"Luck?!" Jack suddenly interrupted, eyes wide. "Boss, this guy just compressed a person into a atball!"
A pause followed.
"…Understood. Do not engage. A Mobile Task Force is being dispatched from the nearest Foundation site. Hold position and await further instructions."
Jack looked to Jas with disbelief. "We're really just going to watch that freak do whatever he wants?"
His hands clenched tightly around his rifle, knuckles white. His voice trembled, not from fear—but from sheer frustration.
Jas t his gaze evenly. "Level 2 reality benders possess combat capabilities far beyond normal humans. In a direct confrontation, we stand no chance. That's not defeatism—it's fact."
"But we're the Nine-Tailed Fox Unit!" Jack shouted. "We've trained for this! We're ready!"
"No," Jas replied with finality. "We're not."
Jack's breath caught.
Then, slowly, his expression shifted. Not to resignation—but to resolve.
anwhile, inside a ruined church drenched in the dim light of evening, chaos reigned.
"Damn it! Why won't any of you cry?!"
The boy standing in the center scread in frustration, arms flailing.
As if on cue, the won huddled in the pews began to sob and weep. A cacophony of forced sorrow filled the air, so genuine, so out of fear.
But the boy's fury only grew worse.
"You call that crying? That's just noise, you b*****s!"
His gaze snapped toward a girl tied up in the corner of the altar.
The girl—barely sixteen—shrank back, trembling. Her lips were tightly sealed, but her eyes were filled with unspeakable dread.
"Ah, Olivia…" the boy grinned, walking over.
"I'm glad I saved you for last. I need sothing real. Genuine pain. You can give that, right?"
His voice dripped with madness and anticipation.
He crouched down, inches from her face. Olivia's eyes widened. Though tears welled up in the corners, they did not fall.
"…Still not crying, huh?"
He stood up and sighed dramatically. "My ability lets do anything, you know?"
"But that's also the problem. It makes everything too easy."
He began pacing.
"It's like… watching AVs when you're young. At first, it's exciting. So many possibilities. So many 'plots.' But eventually? It's just boring. Repetitive."
He turned back to Olivia, smiling again.
"So last night, I had a thought. How can I make you cry in a way that feels real? That makes feel sothing?"
Suddenly, a woman's sobbing beca too loud—grating.
The boy frowned.
With a flick of his fingers—
Crack—SPURT!
A sickening sound echoed through the church.
Blood sprayed across the floor. One droplet landed on his cheek. He wiped it off with his finger and licked it, grinning.
"Mm. tallic. Fresh."
He looked back at Olivia, eyes wild with glee.
"I could just make you cry with my powers. Snap my fingers, and you'd bawl like a baby. But that's too easy. Too… dull."
He walked over and grabbed Olivia by her hair, dragging her away from the pew like a ragdoll.
She scread and thrashed weakly, but he slamd her against the wall with casual cruelty.
"And even without using my powers," he whispered, "I can make you cry."
His grin widened grotesquely.
"Maybe by using your beloved grandma."
That made Olivia's eyes shoot open in horror.
She stopped shaking.
He saw it and chuckled. "Ah, there we go."
"You've got ten minutes," he said coldly.
"Ten minutes to cry."
He turned his back on her.
Olivia bit her lip so hard it started to bleed. Her whole body trembled, not from fear anymore—but from the overwhelming desire to act.
She looked around at the others, all broken, sobbing sses.
And then the boy chuckled again.
"By the way…" he added casually. "Crying counts as ti."
[Stage 4: Disassociation]
So Type Greens eventually grow numb to human emotion and normal experiences. Their reality becos detached from others, leading to moral disconnection, god complexes, and sociopathic behavior. They no longer relate to human fear, pain, or love. At this point, most are labeled as "Uncontainable" and prioritized for elimination.
To be continued…
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