Me and My Overpowered Abilities

"Thank you," Adam said calmly as he paid for the handful of items he'd just bought.

The cashier nodded lightly, and Adam turned to leave, heading back toward the college.

As he walked down the street, he paused. His senses, sharpened by habit and instinct, caught the presence of someone following him. Adam turned slightly, his gaze flicking toward a sleek car that had just pulled up beside him. 

The vehicle stopped, its tinted back window lowering until it revealed a familiar face.

"Get in," the red-haired man inside said sharply.

Adam froze, his breath hitching. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as he stared at the man in the car.

It was him. The father who had abandoned Adam eight years ago.

Shock coursed through Adam, but only for a brief moment. With a blink, he snapped back to reality. Without a word, he turned away and resumed his walk, ignoring the man entirely.

He didn't care how random or sudden this encounter seemed. Ever since school had started, he'd felt like someone was watching him. He had managed to dodge them every time he left the campus—until today.

Today was different. He had stepped out of school to visit the store, and now, the shadow that had been tailing him had finally made itself known.

"18,000... that's how much you've stolen from me," the red-haired man said coldly, his tone dripping with disdain. "I'm here to discuss how you're going to pay that money back."

Adam paused mid-step. He had always known the truth—ever since he turned 18, the payments his parents were obligated to send him should have stopped. But they hadn't. Technically, he was stealing from them.

Still, he'd ignored that fact. No one would hire him, and every attempt to find work online had been an uphill battle. In-person jobs weren't an option—he'd just become another target.

"I'll pay back every cent you ever spent on me by tomorrow," Adam said lightly, brushing off the accusation as he continued walking.

"Yeah, right," his father sneered. "In total, I've sent you over $100,000 in the last eight years. Adding the cost of raising a filthy thing like you, all the doctors and treatments you needed—it's more like $400,000."

Adam stopped and turned, his expression neutral but his voice laced with irritation. "What do you want?"

His father's face hardened. "Your brother needs a kidney. We're taking yours."

Adam stared at him blankly, the words washing over him with surprising calm.

"After you threw me away, I picked up smoking. I highly doubt my kidneys are healthy. Find someone else," Adam said evenly, his tone devoid of emotion.

The man froze, momentarily caught off guard, before his face turned red with fury.

"You did what?" he roared. "Then what good are you if you can't even be used for spare parts?"

Adam didn't respond. He simply turned and began walking away, his hands tucked into his pockets as if nothing had happened.

The man's rage boiled over. He stepped out of the car, raising his hand. With a flick of his fingers, he manipulated gravity.

Adam suddenly felt the force intensify—his body grew heavier, his blood pressure spiked, and his organs strained under the pressure. His head tilted back instinctively, his gaze rising to the sky as the weight pressing down on him grew by 50%.

But to his father's shock, Adam didn't stop walking. He didn't stumble or falter—he merely looked up, as if observing the stars, before continuing on his way.

The red-haired man stood frozen, his hand trembling with disbelief that quickly morphed into unbridled rage as Adam continued to ignore him.

"You brat!" he roared, his voice echoing down the street as a red aura erupted from his body, crackling with energy. With a sharp wave of his hand, the red aura wrapped around Adam, intensifying the gravitational force already pressing on him.

But then, his pupils shrank.

The increased gravity didn't affect Adam—it affected him.

In an instant, the man's body slammed to the ground, his chin striking the pavement with a sickening thud. Pain shot through his jaw, nearly causing him to black out. But he remained conscious, his vision blurry, just enough to see Adam slowly turn to face him.

Adam's gaze was indifferent—completely devoid of emotion. No hatred. No anger. No love. Nothing.

And for some reason, that indifference hurt far more than the physical damage he had just suffered.

At the end of the day, whether he admitted it or not, Adam was his son. He could have accepted Adam's hatred. He could have dealt with Adam's love or even his resentment. Adam could have screamed at him, wished for his death, or begged for something, anything, and it wouldn't have mattered.

But this?

This complete lack of feeling, this hollow disinterest, cut deeper than he expected. It made him feel like he didn't matter. Like his existence wasn't worth a second thought.

Adam turned and walked away without a word, leaving his father on the ground, grappling with the harsh truth of what hurt most, he had no power here.

Adam ignored his father and went on with his day, his thoughts drifting to memories he'd rather forget.

As a child, he'd spent more time in and out of doctor's offices than anywhere else. His parents, though not super wealthy, were comfortable enough to live without worrying about money. They liked to project an image of perfection—a family that had it all together.

When they had twins, it should have been a joyful milestone. But one twin was "perfect," while the other, Adam, was a constant problem. He was overweight, smelled bad despite his efforts, and required frequent medical attention to see why he was getting fatter and smelled bad no matter what. It didn't take long for their patience to wear thin.

By the time Adam turned 10, they'd had enough. On his birthday, they left him at a store and never came back.

Thankfully, the police found Adam. What should have been a scandal that ruined his parents' carefully curated image was smoothed over by their connections. They spun a story about Adam being a rebellious child who ran away, convincing authorities to let Adam live far away from them. The only catch? They were legally obligated to pay for his living expenses.

To maintain the illusion of decency, they also hired a caregiver. But as time passed, the caregiver realized Adam didn't need her. He knew how to take care of himself—something he'd learned early on out of necessity. So, she stopped showing up, collecting paychecks for doing nothing.

What did Adam think of his parents now?

There was a time when he hated them with every fiber of his being, the bitterness eating away at him. But now? He didn't care. They were nothing more than ghosts from his past.

All Adam wanted was to be left alone.

"You're Adam, right?"

Adam paused on his way back to college, stopped by a handsome young man. It was the same guy who had intercepted the slap that would have landed on Adam earlier.

"I'm Michael," the young man said, holding out his hand for a handshake.

Adam glanced at the outstretched hand, then back at Michael, his expression uninterested.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" Michael said with a friendly smile, lowering his hand. "Well, I'm curious—you're pretty strong. Why do you let people push you around?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Adam replied blankly before walking past Michael and heading back to class.

Deep down, Adam sighed in annoyance. Michael struck him as the type who didn't know how to mind his own business. Worse, he was strong—very strong.

At level 15, Michael was an E-rank, but he could already display the strength of someone at level 20 or higher, making him comparable to a D-rank. That alone would have been impressive, but it wasn't just his level that made him stand out—it was his job class.

(Reaper of Dominion).

It was the most overpowered job class Adam had ever encountered. The Reaper of Dominion thrived on death. Upon killing a target, the Reaper could absorb a fragment of their essence, gaining their skills or abilities.

Michael was clearly fated for greatness, destined to become a powerful figure in this new world. But none of that was Adam's concern. He rather stay as far away from him as possible.

"...You know, I don't like you much," Michael said coldly, his previously friendly demeanor replaced by a sharp edge.

Adam turned to face him, his expression still indifferent.

"So what? You were bullied. Get over it," Michael continued, his voice filled with frustration. "That's no excuse for you to go around being a jerk to everyone. To have all that power and..."

Michael's words caught in his throat as Adam raised an eyebrow, his calm gaze unwavering.

"You have a powerful job class and a great future," Adam said, his voice steady but laced with a quiet warning. "Don't throw it away because you don't know how to ignore someone who wants nothing to do with you."

A faint red aura flickered in Adam's eyes as he spoke, causing Michael to instinctively stiffen.

Michael clenched his fists, his own aura beginning to glow in response. "No one's going to ignore you, Adam. The world is changing. If you can't see that you have to pick a side, good or evil, then you're a fool."

"You're heroic not because you're a good person," Adam said lightly, his voice calm yet cutting, "but because you did something messed up to gain your current power... but it was worth it right? You would go back in time and do it all over again and justify your actions."

Michael's body tensed, his aura flaring uncontrollably. Adam's words had struck a nerve.

"Shut up!" Michael roared, his voice shaking with rage as he surged forward.

His fist slammed into Adam's stomach with such force that Adam coughed up a mouthful of blood. But Michael didn't stop there. Another punch crashed into Adam's face, disfiguring it grotesquely. A third blow caved his face in entirely, sending blood splattering across the ground as one of Adam's eyeballs fell loose.

The scene was horrifying. Blood pooled around Adam's crumpled form as he lay broken on the ground.

But instead of satisfaction, Michael was overcome with horror.

He staggered back, his shaking hands covered in Adam's blood. What have I done?

"I... I'm sorry," Michael stammered, his voice trembling. Adam had hit a soft spot, but Michael never intended for things to go this far.

Adam, lying weakly on the ground, slowly raised a trembling hand toward the sky before pointing to his left. Michael hesitated, his breath shallow as he followed Adam's gesture.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Adam was standing there, completely unharmed, a bag in hand, and his usual cold, indifferent gaze fixed on Michael.

Michael's jaw dropped as he looked down at the broken body on the ground, only to recoil in horror. The lifeless figure had transformed into a little girl, her face disfigured and bloodied.

"M-Michael... it hurts," she whimpered, her voice barely audible as she reached out toward him with trembling hands.

Michael scrambled backward, his mind racing as panic took hold. The girl's broken body was all too familiar, and the realization hit him like a hammer.

"You killed your own sister for that power," Adam's voice echoed coldly. "And I'm the jerk? Now, the question is..."

Michael's breath caught as the girl's mangled body suddenly exploded into a swarm of crows,

"Should I break your mind, ensuring you never bother me again, or should I let you go with a warning?" Adam's voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, its tone cold and detached.

Michael didn't respond. Tears silently rolled down his cheeks as he sat there, trembling, unable to summon words.

"I'll let you off with a warning," Adam continued. "Killing you now would only draw unnecessary attention to me."

Michael blinked, and suddenly, he was back where he had been moments ago, standing just a step away from where he'd waited for Adam to return.

His breath caught in his throat as the truth hit him like a tidal wave, he had been in an illusion from the very moment he approached Adam. Everything he had experienced, every horrifying moment, had been fake.

And worse, he had been standing there defenseless the entire time, wide open to any attack Adam could have delivered.

Frantically, Michael scanned the area for Adam, but he was gone.

He stood there, paralyzed for a moment as the image of his sister's mangled form replayed in his mind. That illusion had dredged up trauma he had buried long ago, and the reality of how deeply Adam had cut him began to sink in.

At first, Michael had simply disliked Adam, his arrogance and indifference grating on him.

But now?

Now, he hated him.

To use his sister in such a way, was unforgivable. To Michael, it was the ultimate sin, and Adam would pay for it one way or another.

But he couldn't take Adam on yet. He was too weak. He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.

With his Reaper of Dominion ability, Michael was confident he could find someone, or something, immune to illusions. Once Adam's greatest trump card was rendered useless, Michael would crush him.

He would repay this humiliation a thousandfold. That much, he swore.