So, I want to write a superpower story, but every idea sounds like a rip-off of My Hero Academia, so I figure maybe it was how they got their powers; if I change that, it would differentiate itself. I'd like some feedback on the idea.
No one remembers who held the first relic. Some say it was forged in a laboratory, others that it fell from the sky like shards of broken gods. What is known is this: the objects chose. A man held a rusted dagger and conjured storms. A woman clasped a cracked locket and walked through fire. When they died, their relics did not perish with them. They reappeared, unburnt, waiting for new hands.
The world called them Power Objects—items that bound their wielder to supernatural force.
At first, governments tried to regulate them. Armies seized relics, scientists dissected them, corporations lobbied to patent them. But relics had their own will—compatibility varied wildly. A soldier given a C-ranked relic might sync at “–” and wield nothing more than sparks, while a street urchin with a “+” could bring cities to their knees.
The imbalance shattered the idea of nations. Borders meant nothing against individuals who could split mountains. Within decades, parliaments and presidents were toppled, replaced by those who commanded the strongest relics.
In the new age, relics became the only currency that mattered.
Relics are ranked F to S, from trivial parlor tricks to powers that can rewrite landscapes. Each individual’s compatibility with a relic is graded –, N, or +, shifting their effective output. A C-ranked relic with a “+” wielder might rival a natural A.
Because relics reappear upon death, they carry legacy. Every object has a history of wielders, battles, betrayals. Some are cursed, always dooming their owners. Some are worshiped, their appearance triggering wars. Children whisper their names like fairy tales: The Black Thorn. The Mirror Crown. The Iron Comet.
To kill a wielder is to gamble—will you inherit their strength, or will the relic reject you? This gamble fuels endless conflict. Hero and villain, corporation and syndicate, rebel and king: all circle around the eternal lottery of relics.
The old globe has splintered into city-states and power zones, each ruled by those with the strongest relics. Cities are fortresses, and countryside villages survive only under the patronage of a relic lord. Black markets thrive where relic fragments and counterfeit compatibility tests are sold.
Everyday life is measured by proximity to power:
And above them all, whispered in awe and fear, are the Eternal Names—the S-ranked relics whose wielders write history with each generation.
The Relic Age
The Awakening
No one remembers who held the first relic. Some say it was forged in a laboratory, others that it fell from the sky like shards of broken gods. What is known is this: the objects chose. A man held a rusted dagger and conjured storms. A woman clasped a cracked locket and walked through fire. When they died, their relics did not perish with them. They reappeared, unburnt, waiting for new hands.
The world called them Power Objects—items that bound their wielder to supernatural force.
Collapse of the Old Order
At first, governments tried to regulate them. Armies seized relics, scientists dissected them, corporations lobbied to patent them. But relics had their own will—compatibility varied wildly. A soldier given a C-ranked relic might sync at “–” and wield nothing more than sparks, while a street urchin with a “+” could bring cities to their knees.
The imbalance shattered the idea of nations. Borders meant nothing against individuals who could split mountains. Within decades, parliaments and presidents were toppled, replaced by those who commanded the strongest relics.
The Power Economy
In the new age, relics became the only currency that mattered.
- Corporations turned into power-brokers, buying and selling relics in brutal markets. They groomed compatibilities like bloodlines, running breeding programs to produce heirs more likely to bond at “+.”
- Hero Societies rose, promising protection in exchange for loyalty. They wore capes and symbols but ruled as feudal lords.
- Villain Syndicates thrived as their dark mirrors, calling themselves liberators of the poor but hoarding relics like dragons.
- The Relicless—the powerless majority—lived as laborers, servants, or cannon fodder, clinging to the dream of one day touching an object that would elevate them.
Relics are ranked F to S, from trivial parlor tricks to powers that can rewrite landscapes. Each individual’s compatibility with a relic is graded –, N, or +, shifting their effective output. A C-ranked relic with a “+” wielder might rival a natural A.
The Eternal Cycle
Because relics reappear upon death, they carry legacy. Every object has a history of wielders, battles, betrayals. Some are cursed, always dooming their owners. Some are worshiped, their appearance triggering wars. Children whisper their names like fairy tales: The Black Thorn. The Mirror Crown. The Iron Comet.
To kill a wielder is to gamble—will you inherit their strength, or will the relic reject you? This gamble fuels endless conflict. Hero and villain, corporation and syndicate, rebel and king: all circle around the eternal lottery of relics.
The World Now
The old globe has splintered into city-states and power zones, each ruled by those with the strongest relics. Cities are fortresses, and countryside villages survive only under the patronage of a relic lord. Black markets thrive where relic fragments and counterfeit compatibility tests are sold.
Everyday life is measured by proximity to power:
- The relicless or also known as Lessers scrape together wages, hoping to be sponsored.
- Middle classes barter loyalties for a chance at lesser relics.
- The elite trade S-ranked artifacts like crowns, forging dynasties of steel and flame.
And above them all, whispered in awe and fear, are the Eternal Names—the S-ranked relics whose wielders write history with each generation.
