Me and My Overpowered Abilities

I walked into the bank, a backpack slung over my shoulder. My eyes scanned the room briefly before landing on a middle-aged man with streaks of white in his hair. He was already looking at me, and after a moment, he approached with a kind smile.

"Greetings, sir. How may I assist you today?" he asked politely.

Without a word, I slid the backpack off my shoulder, unzipped it, and pulled out a gold bar.

"I want to exchange this for cash. I hear your bank can process exchanges like this at market rate," I said calmly.

The middle-aged man's eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of the gold bar—and the others visible inside the bag. After a moment, he nodded and gestured for me to follow him.

He led me to a private room, where he had me sit down before taking out some paperwork to record my basic information.

"Before we proceed, I need to explain a few things," the middle-aged man, Sam, said lightly as he leaned back in his chair. "The market value of gold has dropped significantly. People don't see gold as valuable as they used to. Instead, resources like Monster Cores and Mana Stones have become far more valuable. These consumables are in high demand, and people are competing fiercely for access to dungeons to acquire them."

I listened quietly, showing little interest in the news. "I understand. Six months ago, gold was worth about $2,500 per ounce. How much has that changed?" I asked, my tone calm and detached.

Sam double-checked the figures on his computer, his expression stiff. "It's dropped by more than half. Gold is now worth... $1,100 per ounce," he said, glancing at me to gauge my reaction.

"An F-rank Monster Core is worth $15,000," Sam explained calmly. "Its value is only going up as demand continues to rise. People want to grow stronger, and Monster Cores enable that.

"Meanwhile, Mana Stones are different. Unlike Monster Cores, they can directly grant XP when absorbed, and they also store energy that's much easier to use. They're valued at $10,000 per ounce."

I listened intently, then asked, "How much is a dungeon worth?"

Sam paused to check his computer, typing quickly before glancing back at me. "About $10 million for an F-rank dungeon. That's the total potential earnings from clearing one, but the money is divided among the participants. Even so, you could easily walk away with more than $10,000, especially if the party is small."

I nodded at his response, processing the information.

"And what about an E-rank Monster Core?" I asked, my voice steady and calm.

"Oh? That's worth five times an F-rank Monster Core—$75,000 right there," Sam said, his tone tinged with amazement. "Being a dungeon clearer really is the new way to make quick money."

He trailed off, his eyes widening slightly as an E-rank Monster Core appeared in my palm. Unbeknownst to him, it had come from my Gate of Babylon, though the illusion I'd cast ensured he hadn't seen how it appeared.

I leaned forward slightly, my tone calm but firm. "Let me be straight with you. I don't like attention. I don't want to act like we're friends or anything like that. I want to stay alone and unbothered. If you can respect that, then I'm willing to work with you."

I looked him straight in the eye, making sure my words carried the weight of my intent.

I didn't need my Observation Haki to figure out what was going on. This guy had a unique skill that allowed him to measure the value of people. From the moment he laid eyes on me, he'd ignored everything and everyone else, giving me his full attention. He was even subtly pushing me toward dungeon clearing, convinced it was where I could make the most profit.

That confirmed something important: his skill didn't give him a complete picture of a person's true value. Instead, it likely provided a sense of someone's potential or a strong indication they were worth connecting with.

"Understood. We're more than happy to keep all of your information private," he said, his eyes practically gleaming. That enthusiasm only further validated my theory—he was either the manager or the owner of this bank.

"I'm not the type to manage my accounts or care to," I said plainly. "I want to hire you to do that on my behalf. So, how exactly does that value-measurement skill of yours work?"

Sam froze for a second, clearly stunned by my question. "Y-you have sharp eyes. I didn't even sense you using a skill," he said awkwardly.

"I didn't have to," I replied blankly, meeting his gaze.

Sam let out a nervous chuckle before answering, "Well, my Job Class is (Entrepreneur). The skill you're referring to is called (Eyes of Opportunities). It allows me to sense the potential value of a person... I've never seen anyone like you," he admitted with a wide smile.

"It's like a sixth sense that lets you spot opportunities to make money. Does it only work on humans?" I asked calmly.

Sam nodded awkwardly, clearly uneasy with where this was heading.

I thought for a moment before my fingertip began to glow faintly. Without hesitation, I reached out and tapped his forehead.

Under Sam's shocked and uneasy gaze, his eyes suddenly erupted with a brilliant golden light. He stumbled back, nearly tripping over himself in surprise.

"What did you do?" he cried out, his voice tinged with panic.

But then he paused, his expression shifting as realization dawned. His glowing eyes scanned the room, he could see the value of everything around him, the table, the chair, the walls. Every object was illuminated with its worth.

"I improved your skill," I said nonchalantly, watching him with a detached expression. "Maybe you would've unlocked this later down the road on your own, but I just sped things up."

I stood, pulling out a neatly prepared set of papers containing all the information Sam would need.

"Here. Everything you'll require is in here," I added, handing him the documents.

"I don't care about the law," I said calmly, my tone as detached as ever. "I'll leave you to handle everything for me. Once you've converted the cores into cash, invest part of the money into whatever your Eyes of Opportunities deem worthwhile."

I pointed to the ground, where a pile of E-rank Monster Cores lay neatly. "Take three of the cores as your payment."

Sam's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the cores. Before he could respond, I turned toward the door. "I have to get to school. I'm already late," I added nonchalantly, walking away without a second thought.

But just before stepping out, I paused, turning to give him a sharp glare. "Oh, and one more thing—trust your senses. Do something that disturbs my peace, and your head rolls."

The world seemed to dim as my words sunk in, and for a moment, all light disappeared from Sam's vision. His life flashed before his eyes, paralyzing him with fear. When he snapped back to reality, I was already gone.

That's when he noticed the dampness spreading across his pants, a result of the sheer terror that had gripped him.

It was then that Sam realized something crucial: he had struck gold. But this wasn't an ordinary gold mine—it was one that could collapse and crush him if he made the wrong move.

***

(3rd POV)

"Where is he? Did he die?" Jenny Willson muttered to herself as she stood atop the rooftop of Zenith College, scanning the grounds for Adam.

After last night's events, she needed to find him. His strength and capability were too extraordinary to ignore. The ease and precision with which he had taken down an E-rank opponent suggested he might be at least level 19—or possibly higher.

Jenny wasn't just a college overseer; she was an agent working for the government. Zenith College, like many reopened schools, was part of an experiment. The government wanted to determine the most effective way to train students, preparing them for the new world shaped by dungeons and job classes. They also wanted to see if the structured environment of school life could help students awaken job classes with practical or high-value uses.

But her role extended beyond observation. She was also the students' bodyguard, tasked with protecting them from the growing threat of evil organizations that often targeted young, inexperienced individuals with potential.

Earlier that day, a new transfer student had joined the college—the same young man who had saved her life last night. He was currently in class, and Jenny had already spoken with him. Now, her attention turned to Adam.

Despite being late, Adam eventually arrived on campus, his usual calm and disinterested demeanor unchanged. Jenny spotted him easily, but her frown deepened as she noticed something. Adam was smoking—on school grounds, no less.

She descended in a flash of lightning, landing gracefully in front of Adam. Startled but unbothered, Adam came to a stop, letting out a sigh as he exhaled a puff of smoke before casually putting out his cigarette.

Of course, Adam was a smoker. He'd picked up the habit at 11, using it as a coping mechanism to deal with his miserable life.

"Smoking on school grounds? You know that's a fineable offense," she said, her tone firm as she sniffed the air lightly, expecting the familiar smell of tobacco. But there was none—neither from the cigarette nor from Adam himself.

"I was going to put it out before I went inside," Adam replied nonchalantly. He hadn't expected anyone to be watching. With the changes to classes, students were far more focused on their studies, and skipping classes had become a rarity.

"...Still, smoking isn't good for your health," she continued, her tone softening slightly. Her sharp eyes locked onto his. "I also need to ask you some questions about last night."

Adam sighed again, clearly unenthusiastic about the conversation.

"I wasn't going to stand back and fight with you, I'm too weak. Can I go now?" Adam asked blankly, causing her to frown.

"I know you were the one who killed that man," she said firmly, a deep frown etched on her face.

"I have no idea what you're saying," Adam replied blankly, his tone flat and detached.

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she was speechless. Adam wasn't even trying to act like he didn't know what she was talking about—he just didn't care enough to put on a convincing denial. That only left her more confused. If he didn't care, why not just admit it?

"You're not in trouble," she said softly, her tone shifting in an attempt to reach him. "I just wanted to know how you got so strong."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Adam repeated, his voice as emotionless as before.

She frowned deeper, unsure of how to handle the situation. Forcing Adam to talk felt wrong—he clearly didn't want to engage. The poor kid had likely been through enough and just wanted to be left alone.

"Fine. Go to class," she said sharply, trying to reassert herself. "And stop smoking those cancer sticks. If I catch you again, I won't let you off with just a warning."

Adam nodded silently and walked off, heading toward the college building. As he approached, he paused for a moment, his senses picking up on a strong, suppressed hatred emanating from within the building.

He considered it briefly, then shrugged. Whatever it was, it wasn't his problem.