Chapter 3: The First Real Power
Morning sun through broken windows woke Ben to his new reality—homeless, alone, but with three glowing tickets in his System interface. His adult mind knew the statistical probability: three Common abilities most likely. Hope was a dangerous thing when survival depended on results.
But as he sat in the corner of the abandoned building, newspapers still clinging to his small frame for warmth, anticipation thrummed through him like electricity. Three chances. Three shots at becoming something more than a scared child hiding from the world.
"Please let one of them be useful."
He dismissed the interface with a thought, then called it back up, fingers trembling with more than cold. The tickets glowed softly in his peripheral vision, waiting. Always waiting.
[3 STANDARD TICKETS AVAILABLE]
[ACTIVATE ALL THREE PULLS? Y/N]
Ben selected 'YES' before he could second-guess himself.
The first gacha animation exploded into motion, slot machine reels spinning through hundreds of abilities. Icons flashed past—web-shooters, laser vision, super speed, flight. The adult fan in him recognized them all, catalogued their potential, calculated their value. The spinning slowed...
[PARKOUR (C-RANK, LEVEL 1)]
[ABILITY DESCRIPTION: Enhanced understanding of urban movement and environmental navigation. Grants improved climbing, jumping, and spatial awareness.]
Knowledge flooded his nervous system like warm honey. Suddenly, the fire escape outside wasn't just a ladder—it was a pathway, a dance partner, a tool. The gaps between buildings became distances to calculate rather than barriers. The abandoned building's interior mapped itself in his mind with perfect clarity: handholds, weak points, optimal routes.
"Movement. Good. I can work with movement."
Second pull.
[NIGHT VISION (C-RANK, LEVEL 1)]
[ABILITY DESCRIPTION: Enhanced low-light vision. Allows clear sight in darkness up to 50 feet.]
His pupils dilated as the ability integrated, and the dim interior of the building transformed into grayscale clarity. Every detail became sharp—the exact position of debris, the scurrying paths of rats, the structural damage that could collapse under weight. The darkness that had been his enemy became neutral territory.
"Two C-Ranks. Please, just one upgrade..."
Third pull. His breath caught as the reels spun, icons blurring past. Super strength, telekinesis, x-ray vision...
It slowed.
[HAWKEYE'S AIM (B-RANK, LEVEL 1)]
[ABILITY DESCRIPTION: Instinctive understanding of trajectory, force, and timing. Grants supernatural accuracy with thrown objects and ranged attacks.]
"B-Rank!" The excitement was pure, childlike, completely genuine. "I got Hawkeye's aim! Okay, it's only 8% power, but still!"
The integration was more intense this time. His eyes began automatically calculating distances, wind resistance, optimal angles. When he picked up a piece of broken concrete, his hands knew exactly how much force would send it to any target within sight. Mathematical formulas he'd never learned whispered in the back of his mind—physics made intuitive.
Ben spent the morning testing his new capabilities, addiction to progression replacing hunger and cold. Parkour let him navigate the building's treacherous interior with fluid grace, finding paths that shouldn't exist. Each successful vault or jump granted tiny EXP amounts—5 points here, 8 there—but the numbers ticking upward gave him purpose.
Night Vision revealed the world's hidden details. Scratches on walls that told stories of previous inhabitants, water damage patterns that predicted structural weakness, the exact routes rats used to navigate the ruins. Information was power, and power was survival.
But Hawkeye's Aim—that was the revelation.
He set up makeshift targets using empty bottles and cans scavenged from the building's debris. From across the room, he began throwing pebbles with increasing precision. The first few missed by inches—Level 1 was still weak, barely above human peak. But each throw granted EXP, and each level improved accuracy.
Level 3: Hitting the broad side of bottles.
Level 5: Consistent center mass.
Level 8: Thread-the-needle precision.
By afternoon, he could ricochet throws off walls to hit targets behind cover. The adult in him geeked out completely—this was a real superpower, weak but growing, with visible progression. The child in him simply marveled at being good at something, anything, after a lifetime of being invisible.
[PARKOUR GAINS 50 EXP - LEVEL 6 ACHIEVED]
[NIGHT VISION GAINS 35 EXP - LEVEL 4 ACHIEVED]
[HAWKEYE'S AIM GAINS 120 EXP - LEVEL 12 ACHIEVED]
The notifications became a drug. Each use, each success, each level gained made him feel less helpless. Less like the scared ten-year-old the world saw, more like someone who might actually survive this nightmare.
As evening approached, Ben ventured onto the building's roof to practice Parkour properly. The city stretched below him, lights beginning to twinkle in the gathering dusk. Up here, with wind whipping through his thin clothes and the concrete jungle spread out like a three-dimensional puzzle, he felt something he hadn't experienced since waking up in this world: hope.
Three buildings away, a telephoto lens tracked his every movement.
The photographer lowered his camera, reviewing the shots on the digital display. Frame after frame of impossible movements—a ten-year-old boy vaulting gaps that should have broken his legs, landing with precision that suggested years of training. Each image time-stamped, GPS-tagged, automatically uploaded to a secure server.
In a Manhattan penthouse forty floors above the street, Eleanor Bishop reviewed the surveillance footage with calculating eyes. Her daughter Kate sat nearby, ostensibly doing homework but clearly listening to the conversation.
"Subject continues to demonstrate enhanced capabilities," the security chief reported. "Motor skills significantly above normal for his age group. Spatial awareness suggests possible enhanced intelligence or training we haven't identified."
Eleanor sipped her wine, mind working. "Threat assessment?"
"Unknown. He's not aggressive, shows no signs of formal training. Could be natural talent, genetic anomaly, or..."
"Or something else entirely." Eleanor's fingers drummed against her glass. "Continue monitoring. Passive observation only—I don't want to spook him into running again. And prepare a secondary file. If his abilities continue developing, we may need to consider recruitment."
Kate looked up from her textbook. "Mom, who are you talking about?"
"Nobody important, darling. Just work." Eleanor closed the laptop, but her mind was already planning. The boy was homeless, vulnerable, powerful in ways he probably didn't understand. Such children needed guidance. Protection. Structure.
They also needed to be kept away from elements that might use them unwisely.
Back on the rooftop, Ben practiced his throws until darkness made targeting impossible. His small body shivered violently in the January wind, but his Enhanced Reflexes kept him steady, Parkour kept him safe, and Night Vision would guide him down when he was ready.
[NEW QUEST GENERATED: USE ABILITIES 100 TIMES]
[PROGRESS: 23/100]
[REWARD: 2 STANDARD TICKETS]
[CURRENT TOTAL POWER: 185]
Ben grinned at the notification. Tomorrow, he would train harder. Push his limits. Build toward whatever came next.
He didn't notice the dark sedan that had followed him from the orphanage, now parked across from his building. Didn't see the figure inside making notes in a leather journal, documenting his every movement.
The watcher had become the watched, and the game was just beginning.
That night, Ben fell asleep reading his System stats like a comfort blanket, unaware that across the city, a file labeled "Parker, Ben - Potential Asset or Threat?" was being compiled by people who made their living managing dangerous things.
Tomorrow, his life would change again.
Tomorrow, a certain billionaire would get on a plane to Afghanistan.
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