Me and My Overpowered Abilities

"We're hitting 30 dungeons a day," Sam said lightly, his tone carrying a hint of unease as he faced me. "With over 70 dungeons appearing daily in this city, I don't know if many people will be happy with you taking almost 50% of the dungeons here."

He had a point. By the looks of things, I was dominating the dungeon scene. Just today alone, I made over 350 million from clearing dungeons. That was impressive, considering I just left school, and my clone had been clearing dungeons all day.

If I wanted, I could easily hit up even more dungeons, but I was certain I'd already drawn enough attention to myself for one day.

For one, there would definitely be questions about how I could be in multiple places at once. Although I had already come up with an explanation if anyone asked, it was better not to push it too far.

"Start doing some investing," I said lightly, "I'm entrusting that 350 million to you."

I turned to leave, but paused at the door, looking back at him for a moment.

"Some people are after me. They might come for you," I said, my tone calm but serious.

In my palm, a glowing blue ball of energy began to form, humming softly with power. Without hesitation, I threw it toward Sam, watching as the energy was absorbed into his body.

"You should be able to feel that power inside you. Tap into it if you're ever in danger."

I didn't wait for his response. Turning away, I walked out, heading toward the forest nearby. Along the way, I lit a cigarette, savoring the fleeting moment of peace.

The tranquility didn't last. As soon as I stepped into the forest, the sound of combat filled the air, grunts, shouts, and the clash of weapons echoed around me. I didn't need to glance toward the fighters. They were my enemies, Unbeknownst to them, they were trapped in an illusion, believing they were battling me.

It didn't take long for them to tire themselves out. Soon, they stood before me, their eyes blank and lifeless, still caught in the genjutsu.

"Government agents," I muttered with a sigh, already regretting the attention I had drawn. My fabricated job class had done its job a little too well.

Sifting through their memories, I quickly pieced together the situation. Their boss had a mind-control-based job class and wanted me under his control. My illusion-type abilities had caught his interest, and apparently, Micheal was another target.

This was exactly what I wanted to avoid.

If I killed these agents and even managed to eliminate their boss, there was still no guarantee I'd remain in the clear. With how systems worked, I was certain there was a skill or ability that could unravel the truth no matter how thorough I was.

Sure, I could hack the system, but I needed proximity to the target for that. My improved Observation Haki didn't seem capable of bypassing certain restrictions either, which I found both intriguing and annoying.

I needed a different approach—something more subtle.

The best move was to nerf myself. I'd go to school tomorrow injured, making it look like my genjutsu abilities weren't as overpowered as they seemed. Better yet, I could rewrite one of their memories, allowing one of them to escape with false information.

The false weaknesses had to be convincing. They needed to be significant enough to make their boss lose interest in me but not so crippling that they rendered me useless in the dungeons. The story needed to explain how I could clear dungeons efficiently while seeming less effective against humans.

I got to work.

In the surviving agent's rewritten memory, an epic battle unfolded. It was a brutal fight where my weaknesses were revealed through sheer force and strategy. Many of his comrades had died, and in the end, he witnessed me use what appeared to be my trump card.

(Unreal Clone), an ability to turn an illusion into reality. The clone could interact with the physical world but at the cost of 50% of my strength, with the clone itself wielding the other 50%.

This supposed trump card caught them off guard, allowing me to kill two more agents before the last survivor barely managed to escape. Wounded, he fled to report to his boss, knowing he wouldn't survive long without treatment.

To sell the illusion, I injured him exactly as his false memory dictated, ensuring the scene matched his recollection. I reshaped the battlefield, scattering lifeless bodies and evidence of a fierce struggle.

With everything in place, I teleported away, leaving him to stumble back to his boss with a perfectly planted narrative.

***

Meanwhile, Micheal sat on his bed, his back pressed against the wall, staring at his phone. The screen displayed a picture of his little sister, her innocent smile frozen in time. He closed his eyes, but the memory of that day refused to leave him.

"It hurts, Micheal... please, it hurts."

Her cries echoed in his mind, fresh and piercing, causing tears to well at the corners of his eyes.

He hadn't wanted to kill her. He never wanted to.

But what choice did he have when that so-called god appeared, declaring him worthy? A chosen one? He hadn't been in control of his body. The sword in his hands wasn't his to wield as it plunged into her. She was sacrificed to grant him his overpowered job class.

She had been everything he wasn't. His sister was kind, pure, and innocent—too good for a world that demanded such cruelty. He had spent his life protecting her from anything that could harm her, yet in the end, he had been the one to take her life.

Adam's words had cut deep because they were true. He wasn't a good person. He didn't help people out of some noble drive or selflessness. No, his little sister was a good person. He was just trying to honor her memory, to do good in her name because he owed her that much.

The window to Micheal's room suddenly shattered, glass shards scattering across the floor. On reflex, Micheal jumped up, narrowly dodging a volley of tranquilizer darts that embedded themselves into the headboard of his bed.

His eyes widened in shock before snapping toward the window. A group of masked men leapt into the room, weapons drawn, surging toward him like a tide.

Lightning flickered within Micheal's eyes, and with a sudden crack of energy, he vanished. In an instant, he reappeared outside, landing on a nearby rooftop where another group of masked men were preparing to join the attack.

Behind him, the men who had stormed his room found themselves headless.

To them, it was as though Micheal had simply teleported outside, their lives snuffed out faster than they could process. In reality, Micheal had held back—weakening his movements to avoid collapsing the entire building with the force of his jump.

On the rooftop, Micheal's lightning-infused fists blurred as he eliminated the rest of the masked men with ease. However, when he left one alive for questioning, the man bit down on something—a suicide capsule. Micheal could only watch in frustration as the last of them collapsed, lifeless, before he could get any answers.

He stood there for a moment, surveying the aftermath.

The world was changing. Anyone bold enough to flaunt their strength should expect something like this to happen.

Blessing, though, wouldn't have to worry. She had a powerful father and some of the strongest publicly known individuals in the world. She was protected by status, wealth, and likely even a dungeon boss tamed that she could call upon. Micheal couldn't help but scoff at the thought. She had power handed to her, while the rest of them fought tooth and nail to survive.

The night passed quickly, and by morning, Adam stepped onto the school grounds with his arm in a cast. The injuries he'd "suffered" in yesterday's staged battle were supposedly more severe than this, but a healer had "fixed" most of the damage, leaving only the cast for appearances. Of course, the healer was under his genjutsu, ensuring the narrative aligned perfectly with the illusion he'd created.

As Adam made his way to class, he couldn't help but scan the faces around him. Something felt... off. The usual sneers and stares were gone, replaced by furtive glances and a tense silence. No one was trying to mess with him.

It was disorienting. For as long as Adam could remember, being bullied was his norm—a cruel rhythm that had defined his life. Now, it had stopped, as if someone had flipped a switch and the world collectively decided that black was white. The absence of torment was unsettling in its unfamiliarity.

Sure, people still looked at him, but the glances were hesitant, uncertain. They seemed to think twice before saying or doing anything. Adam wasn't naive; he knew this had everything to do with Blessing. Her display of power yesterday had terrified everyone. The fear of crossing her, and by extension him, had created an invisible shield around him.

It was strange, almost surreal. A part of him reveled in it, this newfound peace was intoxicating. For once, he wasn't a target, and he liked it more than he expected. A small, dangerous voice in his head whispered that he could have this kind of peace if he followed Blessing's example.

But reason held him back. Blessing could act without consequence because of her background, her powerful family, and her untouchable status. She had broken the rules by using a skill on school grounds, but it had been conveniently overlooked. If Adam did the same, it wouldn't end so neatly. Any clash with the law could spiral out of control, dragging him into conflicts he wanted no part of.

Adam craved peace, not power. He didn't care for ruling the world or carving out some legacy. Hell, if he could live in the forest, away from people and their endless drama, he'd gladly do it. But he'd set a goal to finish college, even if it had been for the hallucinated grandmother who had been his anchor during darker days. It was a goal he intended to see through.

And while he worked toward that, another idea had taken root in his mind. With the rise of dungeons and chaos, things like movies, anime, and other forms of entertainment had been sidelined, almost forgotten. But they were things Adam loved, and he wasn't about to let them die out.

If no one else would bring them back, he would. He'd take a monopoly on the industry and restore it to life, ensuring that the things that had once brought him joy could do the same again. It wasn't world-changing, but it was a purpose, something to keep him moving forward.