Limit Break Zero To Hero Book 1

  Pierce Mellow

  Copyright © 2025 by M24Entertainment.com

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electric or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  9. Chapter 9

  10. Chapter 10

  11. Chapter 11

  12. Chapter 12

  13. Chapter 13

  Acknowledgements

  About the author

  Also by

  Author Comments

  Chapter one

  Austin burst through the front door of his cramped apartment, barely managing to kick it shut behind him. The scent of city smog still clung to his clothes, but he didn't care. Not today. Not when Arcadia Online, the brand-new MMORPG that had dominated forums and countdown clocks for months, had finally dropped.

  With the grace of a man possessed, Austin flung his backpack into the corner like it had personally wronged him and peeled off his jacket, tossing it onto the floor in a heap. He didn't even glance at the mess. His mind was elsewhere—already in the digital fields of Arcadia, looting dungeons and slicing through mobs.

  But first… rituals mattered.

  "I can't play a brand-new game without my amazing chicken," he declared to no one in particular as he made a beeline for the kitchen. "Oh boy, I can't wait to eat this meat."

  The second the words left his mouth, he paused mid-stride, lips tightening.

  "…Pause, Austin," he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing in amusement due to his sus comment.

  Shaking his head with a chuckle, he yanked open the refrigerator, anticipation thrumming in his veins—only for the cold light to reveal nothing but a lonely bottle of hot sauce, two eggs of questionable age, and half a stick of butter clinging to foil.

  "Nooooooooooo," Austin groaned, head falling back as if the ceiling could provide answers. "Not me forgetting to get my favorite meat!"

  His stomach growled in betrayal.

  Usually, Austin would have been chowing down on chicken from Tom's Chicken Shack without a second thought. He liked the familiar smell of their fried chicken and the comfort of knowing exactly what he would get there. But today, the distance felt like an inconvenience he couldn't afford. With his game waiting for him, calling for his attention and his time, the trip simply took too long to justify.

  "Seven-Eleventy it is," he sighed, thinking about the walk to the gas station a few blocks away. "Their meat will have to do."

  Shrugging his hoodie back on with all the excitement of someone heading to jury duty but armed with the stubborn resolve of a gamer on launch day, Austin jogged down the apartment stairs and stepped into the fading evening light. The sky stretched out in bands of burnt orange and cotton-candy pink, the kind of sunset that made you forget, for half a second, that the city beneath it was loud, messy, and constantly in motion. Car horns blared. Dogs barked. Somewhere in the distance, a bass-heavy playlist thumped like it was trying to rearrange someone's ribcage.

  On his walk, his attention drifted toward a small park nearby, where a family was playing with their laughing toddler. The sight tugged at something deep inside him, something equal parts wistful and hollow. What would that have been like? he wondered. Growing up with a mom and dad. Coming home to people who actually wanted him there.

  But that wasn't his story. His childhood had been the revolving-door special—foster homes, each one temporary, each one a gamble. Some were great. Some were nightmares. Most were just… empty. He'd learned early not to unpack too much, not to get too attached. Friends were fleeting. Family even more so.

  There had been one exception, though—a couple he'd stayed with for a few months who treated him like he mattered. They'd taught him to be kind, to keep his head up, to look for the bright side even when everything felt stacked against him. He could still hear the foster dad's voice: Things will go your way if you let them.

  Austin snorted at the thought, shaking his head. "Well, the bright side today is snacks and my new game!" he announced loudly, grinning—only to realize the people nearby had stopped to give him that is-he-talking-to-himself? look.

  Unbothered and determined, Austin turned the corner toward the store, his mind happily split between greasy chicken and the unopened game waiting for him at home. He was already planning which difficulty setting to start on when something sudden and sharp caught his attention, yanking his focus away like a barbed hook lodged straight into his thoughts.

  A girl.

  She was small, standing right at the edge of the sidewalk, her toes hovering dangerously close to the street. Too close. Way too close. For half a second, Austin thought she wasn't standing at all—more like floating—but that was ridiculous. People didn't float. Still, the unsettling impression lingered.

  She didn't move.

  Then the street lit up.

  Headlights.

  A delivery truck came tearing around the corner, its engine roaring, grill gleaming in the fading light. It wasn't slowing. Not for her. Not for anything. The driver either hadn't seen the girl or simply didn't have time to react—either way, she moved directly in its path.

  Austin's brain screamed keep moving. His inner gamer begged him not to get involved—heroes in real life didn't have save points. But some inconvenient, deeply ingrained sense of decency grabbed the steering wheel of his conscience and yanked hard. Time seemed to warp, stretching each heartbeat into an eternity. There was no space for additional thought, no planning—just instinct.

  He exploded forward, his legs igniting in a burning sprint, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. Adrenaline slammed through him, muting the sounds of the city until there wasn'thing but the rush of air and the pounding rhythm of his own pulse.

  He reached her in a desperate burst, shoving her out of the truck's path. She stumbled onto the safety of the sidewalk, eyes wide in startled disbelief. But in that same instant, his foot caught in a jagged crack in the pavement. His body lurched forward at the wrong angle, momentum betraying him. He had no time to recover.

  The truck hit him like a steel battering ram, the impact lifting him off his feet and hurling him through the air. He hit the ground several yards away with bone-jarring force, the breath ripped from his lungs. Pain ripped through him, white-hot, before quickly fading into a chilling numbness.

  Flat on the cold concrete, his chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. Austin blinked up at the darkening sky, watching the colors of the sunset smear together like a badly rendered background as night crept in.

  Did I… really just get hit by a truck? he wondered dimly. The corners of his mouth twitched despite the pain. Wow. Incredible. Legendary stupidity.

  Then the real tragedy hit him. Great. Now I won't get to play my game. Dammit.

  A shadow slipped into his narrowing vision.

  It was the girl.

  Relief flickered through him—followed immediately by irritation. See? Worth it, his inner hero insisted smugly, while the rest of him filed a formal complaint.

  "You're welcome," Austin tried to say, already rehearsing a sarcastic version that would've sounded much cooler if his lungs were cooperating. Unfortunately, his mouth refused to participate.

  That's when he really looked at her.

  Something was wrong.

  She stood perfectly still, far too calm for someone who had nearly become roadkill moments earlier. Her expression was smooth and unreadable, like she hadn't just witnessed a human sacrifice for pedestrian safety. Her eyes shimmered faintly, holding something that didn't belong in any normal person's face—something old, sharp, and undeniably not human. And he confirmed it. She was indeed floating.

  "How interesting," he heard her say softly. Her voice was clear and precise, but wrong somehow, like a melody played just half a note off.

  Austin squinted, trying to form a response—maybe a joke, maybe a warning, maybe a very polite request for her to call an ambulance. Instead, his body chose betrayal. He coughed and spat crimson onto the pavement.

  Huh, he thought distantly. That can't be good.

  The sky vanished.

  And then everything went black.

  ***

  Downtown buzzed beneath a warm evening sky, the kind that made everything feel just a little more magical.

  A girl floated lazily above the sidewalk, wrapped in an oversized hoodie she hadn't so much borrowed as boldly liberated—five-finger–discounted straight from a fashionable shop display. Her spotless white sneakers dangled a few inches above the pavement, never once brushing the ground. As she spun in a slow, playful twirl, her pigtails bounced with cheerful energy. To the crowded street below, she didn't exist at all. Light curved subtly around her, sound slid past her as if she were an e
mpty space, and reality itself bent just enough to hide her presence. Shoppers, tourists, and locals drifted by without a second glance, blissfully unaware that a quiet ripple in existence had just glided past their hot dog carts and glowing vape shop signs.

  The God of Mischief and Fun—Lizzy—had arrived on Earth.

  "For chicken," she whispered to herself, scanning the street like a hunter on a noble quest. "The legendary, juicy, crispy Earth chicken from Tom's Chicken Shack."

  She had learned of the place through the vast compendium of knowledge and, almost immediately, decided it was something she needed to see for herself. Eating there wasn't necessary—eating at all wasn't necessary. As a god, hunger was a concept she understood but never suffered. Still, curiosity tugged at her. She wanted experiences, the small and strange rituals that filled mortal lives.

  That was why she chose to walk. Or, more accurately, to float just above the ground. It was close enough to count. She wanted to travel the way mortals did, to move through streets and crowds and moments, collecting sensations rather than sustenance.

  "Isn't there another chicken place around here as well, though?"

  She licked her lips, a shiver of anticipation running through her divine form.

  "This better not be like the time I went to that dimension that claimed to have 'spicy sky meat.' That was just flying lizards dipped in lava. Disgusting."

  Lizzy floated past a cluster of humans staring at their glowing rectangles. Boring. Predictable. She could make this so much more fun.

  She tapped her lip, eyes gleaming.

  "Hmmm... you know what I like to do?" she mused, grinning. "Pose people. Make 'em wave to strangers and say, 'Hi! I'm your long-lost twin!' Or even better—make 'em spontaneously bust some dance moves "in the middle of the street."

  She threw her head back and cackled.

  "HA! Classic!"

  Her laughter slowly fizzled out, drifting away until it dissolved into a quiet sigh. Lizzy rotated in midair until she was floating upside down, arms folded loosely as she stared at a massive billboard advertising layered women's fashion—tank tops under sweaters under jackets under scarves.

  "I don't understand why humans wear clothing under clothing," she muttered, spinning lazily as if the thought physically weighed on her. "That's just… unnecessary. And itchy. Probably."

  Weird things had always followed her—or perhaps she followed them. Lizzy's face twisted into an exaggerated pout as her thoughts drifted, inevitably, to the other gods.

  "They're always saying I'm too mischievous," she said, pitching her voice into a mocking falsetto. "'Lizzy, stop replacing our cosmic cards with burning angelic fireballs.'" She waved her hands dramatically. "'Lizzy, stop tapping us on the shoulder only for a burning angelic fireball to explode in our face.'"

  Her eyes glittered as she snorted, clearly proud.

  "'Where do you even get these burning angelic fireballs, Lizzy?' Blah blah blah." She rolled her eyes so hard her whole body followed, flipping upright in a smooth motion before doing a cheerful spin in the air. "They just don't appreciate fun. Me?" She pointed both thumbs at herself. "I'm Lizzy—absolute goddess of mischief and fun. I bring the party." She grinned. "I am the party."

  She froze mid-spin.

  "…Now where's that chicken?"

  The world flowed around her in its usual haze. Cars zipped past in streaks of light and noise, completely unaware of the divine being hovering nearby. Pedestrians marched along the sidewalk, eyes gliding right through her as if she were nothing more than empty air. They didn't see her. They couldn't. Divine masking took care of that—a subtle godly veil woven into her very existence, bending perception so mortals simply skipped over her presence. It made life wonderfully convenient. No stares. No questions. No interruptions.

  She drifted down to the curb and casually floated into the street, already scanning for signs or smells of fried greatness, when she noticed a man sprinting straight toward her. Lizzy tilted her head, curious rather than concerned. Humans ran for all sorts of reasons—late appointments, lost buses, poor life choices. Whatever his reason, it had nothing to do with her.

  After all, he'd pass right through her.

  They always did.

  Then—

  WHAM.

  The collision slammed into her like an insult to reality itself. Lizzy stumbled backward, sandals scraping awkwardly against the pavement as she flailed for balance. She blinked once. Then again.

  She had stumbled.

  Actually stumbled.

  That wasn't supposed to happen. Not with mortals. Not with the mask intact.

  Her heart skipped—not in fear, but in something far rarer and far more unsettling.

  Surprise.

  "What the—?" she muttered, brushing herself off as she stared at her hands, then at the street, then in the direction the man had fallen. "Did I just…" She paused, eyes widening slightly. "…get touched?"

  She turned sharply. The street was chaos—squealing brakes, honking horns, a truck idling at an awkward angle—and there, on the pavement several yards away, was a human. A boy. Crumpled and motionless, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

  He had pushed her.

  He saw her.

  And somehow… he had touched her.

  Lizzy floated toward him slowly, more curious than alarmed. She crouched next to his fading body, her bright eyes watching as he blinked weakly up at her.

  "How interesting…" she said aloud, voice filled with fascination.

  The boy, barely conscious, squinted at her and then spat out crimson before his breath left him.

  And just like that, he was gone.

  Lizzy stared at him for a moment, then let out a low whistle. "Wow. He really just died. For me. Even though I would've been perfectly fine. And his effort was… well, adorable. But utterly pointless."

  She tilted her head slowly, eyes narrowing as she replayed the moment in her mind—every step, every fraction of a second. He had touched her. Actually collided with her. That alone was impossible… which meant the impossible had just happened.

  "He must be special!" she announced brightly.

  Floating a few inches higher, she lifted a finger and tapped it thoughtfully against her chin, gaze drifting skyward as if the answer might be written among the clouds. "The odds of a mortal even noticing me are so small they basically don't exist." Her brows knit together as she searched her memory. "In fact…" She paused, squinting harder. "…I'm pretty sure this has literally never happened before."

  Her eyes widened just a bit.

  "Huh."

  She let out a soft hum and glanced up again, half-expecting a godly reprimand to thunder down from above. "Guess the others were right," she muttered. "They did say that if I kept messing around, someone might eventually see me."

  Lizzy drifted back down, her attention settling on the unconscious man sprawled on the pavement. He looked fragile now—very mortal, very breakable, and very unaware that he had just done something no human was ever supposed to do.

  She studied him in silence for a moment.

  "Hmmm."

  Then her lips curled upward, slow and deliberate, until her face split into a wide, gleeful grin—the kind of smile that never, ever led to normal outcomes.

  "Well," she said cheerfully, clasping her hands together, "he did try to save me." Her eyes sparkled. "And that definitely deserves a reward… right?"

  ***

  Austin's eyes fluttered open to the brightest white light he had ever seen—so intense it felt like it was searing through his retinas. Instinctively, he winced and squinted, but the glow didn't fade. As his vision adjusted, shapes began to form. Fluffy, impossibly white clouds floated overhead, their edges gleaming as if carved from pure sunlight.

  A cold shiver crept down his spine. It was the same uneasy feeling you get when you wake up in a bed that isn't yours, in a place you don't recognize—only this was worse. Much worse. His mind replayed the last thing he remembered.

  The truck.

  "Wait—!" Austin blurted, his voice rough with confusion. He realized he was lying flat on his back in cool, empty airspace, staring at the endless sky. The shock surged through him, and he shot upright, his heart pounding. "Am I—"

  "Dead," a voice finished for him.