A few weeks ago, somewhere out there in the vast Pacific Ocean…
Splash.
A tiny glass bottle sliced through the clouds and fell from the sky, hitting the sea with a quiet plink—easily lost in the roaring orchestra of waves. Inside, a strange black capsule, no larger than a peanut, swirled slowly. It gave off a faint glow, its surface etched with tiny symbols that seemed to shift when you weren't looking. Blink once, and they'd vanish.
Moments later, the ocean stirred.
A pod of blue whales breached from the deep, their mouths wide open, vacuuming tons of krill—and along with them, the bottle. It disappeared down the throat of a giant beast, swallowed like nothing more than a stray shrimp.
But it didn't break. The bottle didn't crack. Not even the acids in that massive stomach could scratch it. It was made for something greater.
The whales moved on, steering away from distant underwater rumbles—machines, sonar, warships rumbling somewhere far off. Seeking peace, they dove deep and veered from their usual route, unknowingly carrying destiny in their bellies.
Days passed.
And then—freedom.
A sudden blast from the whale's rear end—like a small underwater volcano—launched the bottle back into the open ocean, riding a wave of pressure and half-digested bits. Elegant? Not quite. But effective.
Still, the sea wasn't done.
Before the bottle could rise to the surface, a silver blur shot through the blue. A marlin—sleek, sharp, and lightning-fast—sliced through the water and snatched the bottle mid-swim. In a flash, it was gone again, carried off like a baton in a race no one understood.
More days passed.
The marlin, wild and tireless, finally slowed. And just like before, the capsule was released—whole, unharmed, glowing ever so softly inside its glass case.
This time, it reached the surface.
Up above, a huge white bird circled. An albatross, drawn by the sunlight glinting off the bottle's surface. With a sudden swoop, it snatched the bottle in its beak. Another albatross gave chase, thinking it was food or treasure. The two danced in the sky, flapping and squawking.
The bird pecked at the bottle, annoyed. But the glass was stubborn. Eventually, with a loud squawk, it dropped it.
Splash.
Once again, the ocean welcomed it like an old friend.
Not long after, a pod of dolphins spotted it floating—and curiosity took over. They didn't want to eat it. They just wanted to play with it. They passed it between them like a shiny toy, tossing it with their snouts and tails. The capsule's faint glow caught their eyes, and something about it made them pause. It looked... alive. Mysterious. Dangerous even. But dolphins have always loved a good mystery.
They carried it for days, weaving along the coastline, diving through coral reefs, flipping past sharks—always with the bottle spinning in their wake like some kind of holy relic.
Until one quiet night...
The bottle drifted onto the shore of Bantayan Island, Philippines. Under the silver light of the moon, it floated gently near a small fishing boat where a man was kneeling.
Alan had just finished praying at the back of the boat—thanking God for easing the stomach cramps he'd been battling since morning. That's when he saw it, shimmering in the tide like an answered prayer.
He reached down and grabbed it without hesitation.
The beach was still asleep. The sky was bright with stars. And in his hands, the bottle looked like a message from above. It felt right. Like a gift. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe fate?
Whatever it was, Alan popped the cork, stared at the capsule, and—without warning—swallowed it whole.
The two crewmen beside him froze in shock.
Splash.
Not into the sea—but into chaos.
"BUANG KA, ALAN!" Mang Tiko's voice rang out, furious and frightened.
Alan's body jerked. Then collapsed.
His arms twitched. His eyes rolled back. Inside him, something unexplainable was waking up.
This capsule—designed with cutting-edge biotech, quantum mapping, and neuro-engineered enzymes—was never meant for just anyone.
But then again, Alan was no ordinary man.
The pill dissolved instantly, releasing billions of microscopic nanobots into his bloodstream. They moved silently. Quickly. Unstoppably. Mapping his cells, upgrading his nerves, rewriting his brain.
Alan felt his body burning and freezing all at once. Muscles flinched. Memories flickered. Everything inside him screamed and healed at the same time.
It only took a few minutes—but to Alan, it felt like a day. A long, strange day filled with sensations and emotions he couldn't begin to describe.
Then—light.
Everything stopped.
Alan opened his eyes and found himself in a white room. A clean table. A warm teacup steaming gently.
Strangely... it felt familiar.
He sat down on instinct. No fear. Just curiosity.
His hand moved on its own. He picked up the cup. Stared at the dark surface of the tea, where his face barely reflected.
And then, the reflection spoke.
"Drink of this tea, and you will have knowledge and power beyond imagination."
The voice was smooth. Tempting. Almost devilish.
But Alan just grinned and answered,
"I'm drinking this tea... 'cause it smells good."
He took a sip. Closed his eyes.
And when he opened them, he was somewhere else.
Standing before him... was himself. But different.
This version wore a crisp white suit. No sandals. No net scars. Just elegance and confidence.
Alan had a dozen questions—but before he could speak, the man offered his hand.
"Adam. That's what they call me."
Alan shook his hand without hesitation.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Alan."
And just like that, the deal was sealed.
Alan didn't just gain knowledge.
He gained another mind.
Inside him, a new consciousness had awakened—Mr. Adam. The same cold genius from the past, pure intelligence. Cunning and focused.
And strangely… still into betting odds.
But Alan wasn't gone.
The pill didn't overwrite him—it split him.
Now there were two.
Alan—the goofy, good-hearted fisherman who laughed too loud and prayed too often.
And Adam—cold, calculated, brilliant. A mind that saw the world like code. A body that moved with precision. A genius with no baggage.
Two souls. One body.
Where Alan smiled, Adam studied.Where Alan paused, Adam acted.Where Alan forgave, Adam remembered.
They were opposites. Oil and water. Fire and stillness.
But now, they were one.
The capsule didn't just change Alan—it redefined him. A simple island boy now carried the mind of a man who once outsmarted the world.
And he didn't even realize it yet.
Somewhere behind that smile and sunburnt skin... was a storm waiting to be unleashed.
Present day.
Alan returned home after a long, rough night at sea. His grin stretched wide as he lifted the heavy baskets filled with fresh catch beside Mang Tiko.
"Ma! I'm home!" he shouted, stepping onto the porch.
But blocking the doorway was Jojo—his uncle, but still the youngest and most arrogant child of his adoptive mother.
Jojo leaned against the frame with a smug look.
"I heard you had a good catch today," he said, eyes narrowing and licking his lips.
Alan didn't need to guess.
Where Jojo was, trouble usually followed.
"Yes, brother. I'm here to remit my earnings to Mom."
"You can give it to me. Mom's busy," Jojo said, raising his palm.
"It's fine. I'll give it to her personally."
Alan knew Jojo's bad habit of stealing money. Despite his innocent look, Alan's experience told him it wasn't a good idea to hand it over. Just as he was about to pass, Jojo caught him with force.
"I told you she's busy!" Jojo grabbed Alan's sleeve and reached for the bulging pocket with the wallet.
"No!"
"Give it!"
"Stop!"
"I said hand it over already, stupid!" With a stronger grip, Jojo finally yanked the wallet from Alan's pocket.
"No!" Alan tried to grab Jojo, but the latter slipped away like an eel, laughing as he ran off into the morning crowd.
"Tell Mom I'm borrowing it!" he lied.
"Alan? Is that you?" The sound of his adoptive mother, Helen, stopped Alan from chasing him.
"Hello, Nay!" Alan greeted her warmly, taking her hand and placing it on his forehead—a Filipino gesture called Mano, it was done by younger Filipinos to show respect and honor to elders.
"God bless you, anak. How was the trip last night?"
"Oh, it was amazing, Nay! We hauled back so much fish that we ended up dragging the whole boat all night!" Alan said excitedly, still holding her hand in celebration.
"Praise God!" his mother exclaimed, dragging the rugged-looking Alan toward the table. "But I'm sure you're tired. Here, have some tablea and hot pandesal.
"Thank you, Nay." Alan briefly closed his eyes to pray before munching on the steaming bread and sipping the rich chocolate drink.
But suddenly, he remembered something.
"I just remembered, Kuya Jojo took the money I earned."
"It's fine. I'll deal with him later. What's more important is that you're back safe," she assured him.
"By the way, did you know your close friend Kaizen is back?" she said while wiping crumbs from the table.
"Kaizen?" Alan paused, pandesal halfway to his mouth. His eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and curiosity.
"I thought he was in America?"
"Yeah, we all wondered. The poor lad must be going through something. He just went straight home without greeting anyone. He looked really sad and disturbed," Helen said, recalling Kaizen's return.
After a moment of thought, Alan finished his drink and said,
"I'll go visit him now."
"Yes, but after you wash first. You stink of fish."
Back in America, the culprit behind Kaizen's downfall stood proudly before a wide window overlooking the towering skyscrapers of New York. A wicked smile stretched across his face as he glanced at the reflection of his trophies—won from various piano tournaments.
Lined atop wooden shelves were freshly won awards and recognation from various piano events.
As he basked in the glory of his accomplishments, his phone vibrated.
Bzzzt.
"How's my son? Did you enjoy my gift?" asked a deep, commanding voice on the other end.
"Yes, Father. I love it. I feel like I was born with this talent. How did you do that?" Keith replied, eyes wide.
"All thanks to science, son. Any side effects?"
"Just like you said. Headaches for three days, body soreness, a lot of puking. But after a week, everything was fine—except this... urge to play the piano all the time." His fingers danced on the windowpane, playing imaginary keys.
"Ever since I took that capsule, I've been joining every piano competition I can find—and I've been steamrolling them all! Experts even compared me to the new Filipino prodigy, Kaizen Cruz."
"They did?" his father paused.
"Yes! I was so good that Kaizen left the stage without even playing after hearing me!" he lied with pride, eager to impress.
Keith's father was a mystery even to him. He rarely saw him, and the man was known to have multiple wives and children across different countries. Even Keith's own mother was always off on vacations, leaving him alone.
Despite their wealth, Keith grew up lonely, addicted to video games. He never had ambition—until he saw Kaizen play on live TV. That moment changed everything. He decided to become a pianist. And his father's offer came just in time.
"Hmm... yes. That makes sense," his father finally said.
"What do you mean, Dad?" Keith's fingers froze.
"It only makes sense your playstyle resembles Kaizen's… because the capsule's talent host was him."
Keith's brow furrowed. "hmm, I dont understand."
A sigh came from the other end.
"I know I haven't told you much, son. But let me share a little secret."
The atmosphere grew tense.
His father continued, "The piano talent you now have was extracted from someone else. Thanks to a breakthrough in talent transfer technology."
Keith's room suddenly felt darker. Colder.
"When you said you wanted to be like Kaizen, I had my men secretly drug him a few weeks before that competition I helped organize. We then brought him to our lab, extracted his talent, then returned him like nothing happened. The host doesn't notice anything immediately - he wont even recall he was kidnapped. But by the third day, his skills should slowly fade... and disappear completely."
Little did Keith know, it was a bootleg technology, modeled after the original Inspira Capsules developed by Adam. But unlike Adam's pills—which encoded skills biochemically using quantum nanotech—their version, called Talent Plus, required a living host to steal from.
And behind this operation stood Mr. Jones Smith—the most powerful secret leader of America.
"So tell me son." Jones Smith added,
"Whos talent do you want next?"