Me and My Overpowered Abilities

"Someone seems in a good mood. Looks like I'm doing my job well," Blessing said with a smirk as Adam took a seat opposite her. Adam ignored her entirely, focusing on his food, but that didn't stop Blessing from talking. 

"What happened to your arm?" she asked, eyeing the cast curiously. "It's hard to believe someone who can clear 30 dungeons alone in one day could get hurt."

Adam didn't look up, continuing to eat in silence, but Blessing leaned forward, undeterred. "Let me guess: the attack happened after school. Someone probably wanted to take you out for hogging all the dungeons, or maybe it was someone trying to capture you for your job class. I doubt it's related to anything here at school. You've done nothing here to provoke someone that strong. My bet is that more than one person came at you—smart, considering your abilities are still a mystery. A drawn-out battle, maybe?"

Adam finally looked at her, his expression blank and uninterested, before returning to his food without a word.

"Come on, at least look impressed," Blessing teased, rolling her eyes at his reaction—or lack thereof. "But your silence says a lot. You know who was behind it, don't you? I'm your bodyguard, so spill. I'll handle it for you. Just so you know, I'm not letting this go until you talk."

Adam sighed, visibly annoyed, and put his fork down for a moment. "I handled it," he said flatly, picking his fork back up and continuing his meal without further explanation.

Blessing frowned slightly but didn't push further. She had learned when to press him and when to back off. Still, the lack of details left her uneasy.

She leaned back, watching him with a mix of curiosity and frustration. She was sure that if she wasn't pregnant, he probably would've sent her flying long ago.

"...Oh, here's some top-secret news," Blessing said, her voice dropping slightly as if she were about to share classified information. "I heard E-grade gates have started popping up. Apparently, the U.S. government has been secretly clearing them and hoarding all the benefits for themselves. But the rate of these dungeons appearing is increasing so fast, that they're being forced to stop being greedy and ask for help. They released some interesting details about the E-grade dungeons, though—did you know the dungeon boss alone is ten times stronger than an F-grade dungeon boss?"

Adam's hand paused mid-motion, his fork hovering over his plate for a second before he resumed eating. His expression remained unreadable, but Blessing could tell her words had caught his attention.

'If the monster core of an F-grade dungeon boss is worth $75,000, then the core of an E-grade boss...' Adam's mind raced, doing the mental math. '...should easily be worth at least $500,000, if not more.'

The thought was tantalizing. An F-grade dungeon boss already had the power to destroy a building with a single attack. By comparison, an E-grade dungeon boss had the destructive potential to level an entire city block—or, in the case of some, multiple city blocks. And a city block wasn't just one or two buildings—it could hold at least fifty.

The risks were enormous, but the rewards? Even greater.

"Zenith is going to have the first crack at that dungeon," Blessing said, her tone casual, though her eyes lingered on Adam. "My dad's been asking me to convince you to join Zenith, but I didn't bother since I knew you'd just say no." Her lips curled faintly, but there was an edge of curiosity in her gaze. "Now, he's set on you entering the E-grade dungeons. The benefits are too good to ignore, but I know how you are."

"I'm good." Adam didn't bother to look up. Stepping into an E-grade dungeon so easily wasn't worth the attention it would bring. 

"Your father would die," Adam said flatly, his tone devoid of emotion as his eyes remained fixed on his plate. He didn't bother looking at Blessing, but the weight of his words was enough to make her pause mid-thought.

Blessing frowned, unsure if she heard him correctly. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice quieter now, though laced with curiosity and concern. Adam just answered her with a slight nod, as if he didn't just hit her with big news.

"You've been in an E-grade dungeon before, haven't you?" she asked, trying to decipher the meaning behind his cryptic remark. Her brows furrowed when she saw his slight nod in acknowledgment. "So then... the danger you're talking about. Is it from the dungeon itself, or... something else?"

"Both," Adam replied curtly,

Blessing's frown deepened, her fingers unconsciously tapping the table as her mind raced to put the pieces together. "You're saying the government wouldn't just hand out a piece of pie like that," she said slowly, piecing together his implications. "Makes sense. If they've had exclusive access to E-grade dungeons for who knows how long, they've probably been stockpiling power while keeping everyone else in the dark."

She bit her thumb lightly, her gaze narrowing as she mulled over the possibilities. "So... what? Do they see the guild as too strong now? Are they setting up Zenith to fail?"

"An E-grade dungeon boss is at least 50 times stronger than an F-grade dungeon boss," Adam said flatly, rising from his seat with the same detached demeanor as always. The calm yet definitive weight of his words struck Blessing like a lightning bolt, her pupils shrinking in shock.

Fifty times? That number reverberated in her mind like a warning bell. She tried to process it, struggling to imagine the devastation such a creature could cause. An F-grade dungeon boss could obliterate a building with a single attack. What kind of destruction would a creature fifty times stronger be capable of? It wasn't just terrifying—it was incomprehensible. But Adam spoke so casually, as if it was simply a fact of life, leaving no room for debate.

As she forced herself to calm down, a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "You cared so much to warn me?" she asked playfully, her tone light as she blinked at him teasingly, though her heart still raced from his revelation.

Adam didn't even glance back. He simply started walking away, his hands in his pockets, utterly unmoved by her words.

"Stress can be bad for the baby," he said, his tone as indifferent as ever, his gaze fixed ahead.

Blessing's smirk widened into a grin, leaning forward slightly. "Sure, it's just the baby," she teased, her words dripping with mock sweetness, knowing it would bounce right off him. As expected, Adam ignored her completely and continued on his way.

Adam, on the other hand, pushed the interaction to the back of his mind. He hadn't warned Blessing out of sentiment, but for the unborn child, she carried. His Observation Haki had shown him a grim future. If Blessing's father died in the E-grade dungeon, she would spiral into depression. Unable to drink, smoke, or engage in her usual coping mechanisms because of the pregnancy, she would eventually succumb to stress. The tragedy would culminate in a miscarriage.

Miles away, in a grand and opulent mansion, an elderly man sat in his lavish study, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. His cold eyes studied a report in his hands while his gaze occasionally shifted to the lifeless bodies of the men he had sent after Adam and Michael. Their mission had failed, and the survivors had only managed to deliver scraps of information before succumbing to their injuries.

"The one known as Adam… his ability is less impressive than I expected," the old man murmured, his voice calm but laced with disappointment.

He glanced at the report again, which detailed the supposed weaknesses of Adam's illusions. According to the information, Adam's ability struggled to ensnare individuals with strong wills or heightened senses. Loud external stimuli could break his illusions, and keeping strong-minded targets trapped required Adam's constant gaze—otherwise, the energy cost multiplied by five. Additionally, a telltale sign betrayed Adam's technique: the victims' pupils reflected a full bloody moon, making it easier for observers to spot who was under his influence.

"His skill might be perfect for clearing dungeons, but for controlling humans? It's practically useless." The old man's lips curled into a small, mocking smile. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Still… the potential revenue from someone like him cannot be ignored. Ten billion dollars a month from clearing dungeons alone is a fortune. And if he could double his effort…" His words trailed off as he considered the immense wealth Adam represented.

His eyes moved to the bodies Michael had left behind. Unlike Adam, Michael's abilities were still shrouded in mystery. His speed was extraordinary, and his raw power suggested something deeper. The old man chuckled darkly, his fingers drumming on the desk.

"That fool Jenny has no idea that Michael might have already encountered and survived an E-grade dungeon. It would explain his strength," he mused. "Michael is untouchable for now, but we'll wait. Everyone has their moment of vulnerability."

A middle-aged man stepped forward, breaking the old man's thoughts. "There's one issue, sir. Adam… he doesn't seem to care about anything or anyone. According to Jenny's report, which I had analyzed by a psychiatrist, Adam is likely battling suicidal thoughts. It's remarkable he's lasted this long. He has no close connections or attachments. His parents abandoned him when he was ten, and while Blessing, the daughter of the Zenith Guild co-leader, appears to be close to him, Adam doesn't seem to value that relationship. We have no leverage over him—not even his own life."

The old man's cold eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. "What is someone like that doing clearing dungeons?" he asked, his tone sharp.

The middle-aged man hesitated before replying, "We… don't know. He's an enigma, sir."

The old man stood abruptly, pacing the room. "Then find someone with a search skill, or something similar. I want to unravel his character completely before making my move."

The middle-aged man nodded but added cautiously, "Such skills come with significant requirements. Users of those abilities are rare, and they charge a steep price for their services."

"I don't care about the cost," the old man snapped. "But ensure they don't know who I am. Act through intermediaries if necessary. I won't tolerate failure."

The old man's expression darkened as he stared out of the large window overlooking the estate. His mind was set. Adam's value was too great to ignore, and while the boy might not care about his own life, the old man was determined to find a way to make him bend to his will. 

***

School had just ended, and I was making my way to meet Sam to discuss my next steps. With Sam actively investing part of my wealth and the additional 350 million I had made today, I was ready to start planning my new living arrangements.

I didn't care much for neighbors or the bustle of the city. What I had in mind was a mansion—something grand yet isolated, far removed from the chaos and noise of people. If such a mansion didn't exist, I would simply buy unused land and build it. I already had the vision in my mind, the funds to bring it to life, and the patience to see it through.

As I walked, my head slowly turned at the sound of a car pulling over beside me. I let out a silent sigh as recognition set in. It was the same car my father had been in the last time I saw him. My body stiffened for a moment, but I kept my pace steady. I had already sent him the 700,000 he was so insistent on getting, more than enough to repay every cent he had ever spent on me. To me, our business was concluded, and I owed him nothing.

"Adam... let's talk," came his voice, it was different from the past, it was softer and more gentle. It was a tune one would expect from a loving after, not from someone who abounded their son.

I glanced at him, my expression blank and indifferent, before pulling out my headphones and slipping them into my ears. Music flooded my mind as I turned away from him and continued on my way.

"Jacob is going to die. He wants to see you before he passes," my father said, stepping in front of me and cutting off my path. I paused, not out of respect for him, but because of the name he mentioned—Jacob, my twin brother.

Jacob and I were never close. To call us strangers would've been generous. Our parents had kept us apart, determined not to let what they considered my "stink" taint their perfect son. Jacob was their pride and joy, the golden child, while I was the one who was hidden away.

The few times we crossed paths, Jacob had been kind. He never flaunted his status or looked down on me, even when I could see how different our worlds were. I never hated him—not at first. But as time went on, jealousy took root. I hated his perfect life, his freedom from the rejection I had to face daily.

But that was the past. Now? I felt nothing for him. No hate, no resentment, no sorrow. Just indifference.

I turned my gaze toward my father, my expression cold and unreadable. "What do you want? Trash like yourself wouldn't use your son's death for nothing. What benefit do you wish to gain from shamelessly standing before me? Are you trying to use me to build connections? To get an image of me with the family, as if we have some kind of bond?"

My voice was calm, yet the venom in my words made his face pale. The ground beneath me began to crack as my aura seeped out, slow and deliberate, like a predator testing its prey.

My father stumbled back, his usual composure shattered. Horror filled his eyes. He had never felt anything like this before. 

"I don't see you as my father," I said, my voice calm but laced with a razor-sharp edge. "It's taking every ounce of self-control I have not to kill you where you stand. So leave me alone... and let me be as honest with you as I can possibly be."

I paused, locking eyes with him, ensuring he felt the weight of my words. "If you ever use my name, I will give you a slow and painful death. If you ever come before me with some foolish scheme again, I will give you a slow and painful death. I don't like you. I see no value in letting you live past tomorrow, and honestly? I wouldn't mind becoming a criminal if it meant killing you and the person who birthed me."

The indifference I had long held for him was gone, replaced by a cold, suffocating killing intent that I was barely suppressing. My eyes glowed a deep, blood-red hue, the aura of my murderous intent made visible—a reflection of the countless lives I had ended in the dungeons. Though they were just monsters, their deaths had shaped this presence, one that now pressed down on the man before me like an iron vice.

"Leave," I said, my tone unrelenting, "before I throw my peace away to end you."

My so-called father stood frozen, trembling under the weight of my presence. The cracks in the ground beneath me had spread as if the earth itself was recoiling from my fury. He didn't waste a second longer; turning on his heel, he scrambled back to his car. His driver barely had time to react before the door slammed shut, and the vehicle sped off, tires screeching as it fled from the scene.

I stood there, watching the car vanish into the distance, the tension in my body slowly unraveling. As the glow faded from my eyes, I looked down at my palm. My fingers trembled slightly, not from weakness, but from the effort it had taken to restrain myself.