Kyren finally found a place to rest his head.
Even after awakening and spending points to boost his mana pool, he couldn't maintain top speed for long—only short bursts. He had pushed himself, testing the limits. Four hundred yards. That was it. Then his legs gave out.
Mana Exhaustion.
The words flashed in his mind as he collapsed, chest heaving.
So this is what happens when I burn it all. A bitter lesson.
He forced himself to think: Drink mana potion.
The system responded. It wasn't instant—just a slow trickle, like water dripping into an empty cup. But it worked.
By the time he could stand again, night had crept in. He pitched his tent beneath a rocky overhang, off the roadside. The stretch of path he'd spent days helping build wound ahead, quiet and still. Jagged cliffs loomed above, casting shadows that felt too watchful. But tonight, he was just grateful for cover.
The fire was out. No reason to call attention.
The scent of cooked panther still clung to the air, but Kyren hardly noticed. His thoughts drifted to May 25th.
His birthday.
Grandma Windy probably thought he was out celebrating. But she knew better. Kyren never cared much for birthdays. Maybe because they reminded him of the past—his mother's warmth, the decorations, the way she made him feel like the most important person in the world. His father's forced smiles, extravagant gifts, and hollow praise.
Which hurt more? Missing her love—or remembering his lies?
Still, the thought that stung deepest was the memory of the orphanage.
The way the kids gathered around a single slice of cake, singing off-key but full of joy.
Kyren closed his eyes and imagined their faces.
They'd be proud if they saw me now.
He smiled faintly. They don't need to know about the screens. Or the system.
That part's mine.
Sleep came soon after.
He woke to sunlight filtering through his tent, warm and soft against his skin.
Something felt… off.
He sat up, groggy, and noticed his arms—defined, toned. His muscles had changed.
Frowning, he pulled off his shirt.
His chest was broader. Abs more chiseled. His body no longer looked like a desperate survivor—it looked like a fighter.
He grabbed his dagger and studied his reflection in the polished blade.
Same light brown skin. Same wild curls in a high puff. But then—his eyes.
They weren't just brown anymore.
Golden flecks shimmered beneath the surface, swirling like molten metal, shifting slowly—unstable, alive.
He should've felt fear.
He didn't.
He felt power.
A smirk tugged at his lips. Who would've thought I'd get a birthday gift like this?
He clenched his fist, the golden shimmer catching in his eyes.
With this… I can do more than survive. I can protect. I can clean up the outskirts. Maybe even raise my hero ranking.
The thought twisted in his gut.
The system had called him the worst hero in Epsilon.
Not anymore.
Kyren dressed, summoned his inventory, and pulled out the last of the cooked panther meat. He devoured it quickly, feeling energy course through him. After stowing the tent and bedroll, he headed out.
The Chase
The outskirts village came into view—his home. Just as he reached it, a familiar voice cut through the air:
"Kyren! Kyren, help!"
He turned to see Lydel sprinting toward him, panic in his eyes.
Kyren's stomach dropped. "What did you do now?"
"I won big in the gambling hall, and they didn't wanna pay up!" Lydel wheezed.
Kyren groaned. "Seriously, blackjack again? You know you're banned from there."
Lydel offered a sheepish shrug. "They shouldn't let me win if they can't pay."
"No time." Kyren grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into an alley behind the convenience store—the one he regularly robbed.
"Move!"
Lydel took off—expecting Kyren to follow close behind, like always.
But this time…
Kyren passed him in a blur.
"What the hell—?" Lydel gawked, breath catching in his throat. Kyren was gone, moving like a shadow.
There was no way. Even with his ability, Lydel had always outrun Kyren. But now?
Did his powers… finally awaken?
They tore through the alley, feet pounding dirt, until they were sure no one was chasing them. Kyren slowed, flashing a grin over his shoulder.
Lydel could barely keep up.
Kyren and Lydel had always been close. Lydel had awakened his ability at twelve, early enough to earn a place at the Academy—but he hated it. Hated how they treated the weak. So he ran. His parents disowned him for throwing away their golden ticket, but secretly, they still let him sneak home through the window.
The orphanage fence came into view.
Kyren didn't even slow down—he leapt clean over it.
Lydel scrambled behind him, barely making it across.
"Grandma! Kyren just jumped the fence!"
Kyren flinched.
Irene.
She stood near the porch, eyes wide with wonder.
Before he could respond, the front door burst open.
Grandma Windy appeared, storming down the steps faster than any old woman had a right to. Her eyes locked on Kyren.
Relief. Then fury.
"Don't you ever scare me like that again."
Her voice trembled beneath the anger.
"I don't care if your powers came in—no stunts like that."
She turned to Lydel, arms crossed. "And you—I know this was your idea. What happened?"
Kyren stepped forward. "It wasn't his fault, Grandma. I promise. Can we go inside? I'll explain."
She exhaled sharply. "Fine."
But before he could sit her down, she made him sit.
Without a word, she placed a plate in front of him.
A slice of cake. One flickering candle.
Kyren froze.
She called for the kids. They rushed in, crowding the kitchen, their eyes glowing with joy.
Then they sang.
Happy Birthday to you…
His chest tightened. His throat closed.
When the song ended, he blew out the candle.
The kids tackled him with hugs. Then scattered, back to their games.
Lydel pulled up beside him, grinning.
Grandma Windy sat across from them, arms folded, expression soft.
"Alright, boy. Start talking."
Kyren told her everything.
When he finished, the kitchen fell silent.
Grandma Windy stared at him, hands folded in her lap. There was pride in her eyes—but something else, too. Worry.
"Kyren," she said quietly. "You can leave now. You can make your life better."
He blinked. Leave?
His heart sank.
"Grandma, you think I'd just walk away?"
She sighed and stood, carrying his empty plate to the sink. The old pipes groaned as water rushed out.
"I'm saying… you have power now. And the outskirts? They'll ruin you if you stay."
Kyren stood, voice tight. "Do you really think I'm that weak-minded?"
She scrubbed the plate with slow, firm strokes.
"No," she said. "The weak bend to their surroundings. The strong… they break."
The words hit him harder than any blow.
She set the plate aside and turned back to him.
"I want the best for you, Kyren. I love you. We all do. But I've seen the brightest kids crushed out here. Don't be one of them."
He nodded slowly, forcing down the lump in his throat.
Then he turned to Lydel.
"Come on."
They slipped into Kyren's room. Once the door shut behind them, Kyren exhaled.
"She's just scared," he said. "But I know I can fix this place. I can clean it up."
Lydel frowned. "That's suicide. Even with your powers."
Kyren grinned.
"Who said I was doing it alone?"
Lydel froze.
"Don't give me that look," Kyren said. "You've followed me this far."
Lydel groaned. "You're gonna get us killed."
"But you're still in."
"…Dammit, yeah. I'm in."
Kyren reached out. Lydel grabbed his hand, sealing it.
"We're heroes now," Kyren said.
Lydel smirked. "So what's first? Take down the local drug syndicate?"
Kyren's grin sharpened.
"First, we find you a weapon."
He turned toward the window.
"Then we train."