High school had been nothing short of a battlefield—just one where I wasn't allowed to fight.
I was sixteen, meek and unnoticed, the kind of kid who could slip through a hallway without anyone registering my existence. Except… I didn't always escape attention. Some students were cruel enough to target anyone who didn't fit the mold, anyone who lacked power or skill. And I, powerless and quiet, became an easy target.
They called me names, mocked my obsession with heroes, and laughed at my notebooks filled with sketches and theories about powers I didn't yet possess. I didn't retaliate. I had learned early that attention, good or bad, was a dangerous thing. So I kept my head down. I smiled when necessary. I laughed along when they made jokes at my expense. And behind the scenes, in the quiet corners of my room or on the rooftops of abandoned school buildings, I trained.
I trained every day. Not just physically, though I ran, lifted, and tested my stamina endlessly. I trained my mind. I studied heroes and villains, watched patterns, ran hypothetical scenarios, and theorized strategies for every type of ability I could imagine.
Every insult, every shove, every taunt from those who had powers I did not only fueled me further. I vowed that one day, when my own ability surfaced, I would no longer be mocked. I would no longer be powerless.
High school eventually ended. I graduated quietly, avoided attention, and entered college like a shadow among peers. My path wasn't extraordinary by society's standards. I wasn't at a hero academy, nor did I have a mentor to guide me.
Most of my classmates had been recruited into training camps, run by agencies for those who had potential to become official heroes but didn't get the chance to enroll in Hero Academy during high school. Those who demonstrated promise in high school went straight into these programs, moving closer to a life most kids could only dream of.
I didn't.
I studied business. It was ordinary, practical, and yet it gave me structure. I had a part-time job as a waiter to cover expenses. I lived quietly, invisibly, blending into the everyday flow of the world. But my obsession never waned. While other students were learning combat techniques, hero protocol, or elemental mastery, I trained in secret.
My evenings were spent studying the mechanics of powers, hypothesizing alternate uses, and improving my physical and mental conditioning. Every day I grew stronger, faster, sharper. Every day I planned for the day I would finally awaken.
That day came on my twentieth birthday, an ordinary night that became anything but.
I was alone in my small apartment, the city quiet outside my window. I had just returned from my part-time shift, exhausted but content. I prepared a modest birthday meal, smiled at the simplicity of my life, and sat down with my notebook beside me. The years of preparation, of waiting, felt… worth it. I had no way of knowing what was about to happen.
Then, it began.
It started as a surge in my chest, a pressure so intense I couldn't breathe. My heart pounded as if a thousand drums were beating inside my ribcage. The heat spread through my body, igniting every nerve, every fiber, every cell. Pain sliced through me like needles, thousands of them, pricking, burning, electrifying every inch of skin. I doubled over, clutching my chest, gasping, my vision blurring.
I screamed.
And then, everything went black.
I woke hours later—or maybe minutes; time seemed meaningless—with a strange clarity. My body throbbed with vitality I had never known. There was a warm, golden glow emanating from my chest, spreading across my arms, my legs, my entire being. I felt light, yet heavier, stronger, more aware. Every sense was heightened. Every thought was sharper. Every motion felt precise and effortless.
I looked at my hands. My heartbeat still raced, but not in pain—only in exhilaration. Energy hummed beneath my skin, a tangible, radiant power coursing through every vein and sinew.
My muscles ached pleasantly, as though they had been upgraded, reinforced. The air around me seemed to vibrate in resonance with the energy I carried. I could feel the potential in every fiber of my being, every cell thrumming with newfound capacity.
I ran to the balcony, stepped onto the edge, and leapt instinctively. Normally, gravity would have pushed me down. Instead, I hovered. Slightly at first, then with more control. The golden energy surrounding me responded to thought alone, subtle at first, then with a sharpness that startled even me.
I realized I was… powerful. Truly, overwhelmingly powerful.
The first hours were a blur of experimentation.
I tested strength, control, and endurance. I ran faster than I ever had before. I lifted objects that had been heavy beyond measure. I moved, dodged, and balanced instinctively. And as the sun began to rise, I felt something I had never known: absolute exhilaration, a joy untainted by fear, doubt, or limitation. I was myself, yet better. My training, my study, my obsession—it all paid off in that moment.
I didn't understand the full scope of my ability yet. I didn't know its limits or its classification. But I felt… infinite. And most importantly, I felt ready.
I remembered Cube.
All those years of observation, all those sleepless nights, all the meticulous notes, all the hypotheticals—they all led to this. Cube had become a legend in my eyes, but in that moment, I understood a crucial truth: heroes weren't born—they were made. Mastery required patience, study, and obsession. I had the obsession. I had the preparation. And now, I had the power.
I didn't tell anyone.
No friends, no family, no teachers. The world didn't need to know… not yet. This was my moment, my awakening. And like always, I wanted to understand it fully before presenting it to anyone else. I wanted to master it before I used it.
I trained that night, alone, in my apartment. Objects levitated, energy coalesced in my hands, a golden aura wrapped around me as if the world itself had recognized my potential. I tested strength, speed, reaction, and endurance. Everything was sharper. Every move precise. Every thought accelerated. I felt exhilaration, pride, and a thrill I had only ever imagined while watching heroes on screens or reading their exploits.
By the time the morning light spilled into the city, I had made a simple observation: I had crossed a threshold. I was no longer powerless. I was no longer a quiet observer. I was now someone who could act, someone who could shape outcomes, someone who could pursue the dream I had harbored for so long.
The path ahead was still uncertain. I didn't know the full extent of my power. I didn't know the responsibilities it carried. But for the first time in my life, I felt aligned with my obsession, my purpose, my dreams.
I smiled to myself, a quiet, determined smile.
This is the beginning.