As the dawn of the next day broke, marking the start of my third week in this strange world, I had only one thought in mind: keep going.
I headed to work as usual. My steps had grown more steady, and my muscles had begun to adapt to the exhaustion. I performed my tasks without complaint, my heart calm despite the chaos surrounding me. The fatigue no longer weighed on me as it once did — it was as if my body had started to adjust to the rules of this place.
The workday ended, and I made my way back to the inn, carrying with me a familiar exhaustion that now held a quiet warmth — the warmth of accomplishment. Aunt Melissa had prepared a simple meal, as always. I ate it quietly at the wooden table in the hall, watching the steam rise slowly from the plate, drifting through the air like a scent that reminded me of home... of a time that no longer existed.
Once I finished eating, I went up to my room after the long day, just as I usually did. The air in the room was still, as if the walls were waiting for me with a familiar silence.
I sat on the bed, placed my bag to the side, and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Then, in a low but firm voice, I said:
"Status window."
Instantly, the translucent panel appeared before me, its soft blue glow and familiar lines lighting up the air. It was like a window between my real world and this strange one — a reminder that I was no longer who I used to be.
I continued:
"Superpower... show."
As always, the card materialized in front of me, floating gently in the air, its soft colors glowing like a fragment of embodied light. There was something about it that always drew me in — its strange beauty, its delicate aura, or maybe just the idea that it granted me strength, even if it was small.
I reached out and touched it with my fingertips. A faint shiver ran through me, and the details immediately appeared:
---
[ Rank: D ]
[ Ability: Quick Response ]
[ Description: Your reaction speed increases slightly, as if you've undergone extended training in reacting to surprises. ]
[ Usage: Catching a falling object, dodging a punch, or making a fast decision. ]
[ Condition: Can only be used when you're on the verge of death. ]
---
I stood still for a moment, staring at the lines.
Rank D...
I whispered it inwardly. Not bad. Actually, it suited me. Not too overpowered, not too weak to be useless — human, yes, but receiving it so easily made it feel precious.
Then I looked at the name: Quick Response.
I hesitated to say it aloud... Quick Response... It sounded good. It sounded... important.
I kept reading, and when I reached the description, my eyebrows rose in surprise:
"Your reaction speed increases slightly?"
That alone could make a difference. Was this really a Rank D ability?
I chuckled to myself and said:
"Might be better than that 'Fresh Breathing' one."
There was a hint of sarcasm, but behind it, a genuine joy.
I moved on to the listed uses, and my amazement grew:
"Catching a falling object... dodging a punch... making a quick decision..."
All of that?! Unbelievable.
My heart started to race — a wave of exhilaration, almost like a child's delight.
This power could save my life in a crucial moment.
Maybe now, I had something that made me faster than just an ordinary person.
But the feeling didn't last long...
My eyes fell on the last line — the condition — a final note written in words too clear to be misunderstood:
"Can only be used when you're on the verge of death."
That was when the excitement faded like smoke.
I let out a long breath, smiled wryly, and muttered:
"That means… I'll never use it."
I looked at the card as if silently scolding it.
"I'm doing everything I can to stay away from danger… not walk right into it."
And after a short moment of reflection, the card began to fade gently.
It vanished the way dawn light does when daytime rises to take its place —
as if it knew that nothing is more fragile than conditional hope.
...
As soon as the card disappeared like a thread of smoke, the status window opened again on its own. It appeared quietly, as if it understood the perfect time to reveal itself — with a precision that never missed.
The familiar data displayed itself in neat, ordered lines, reflecting a kind of strict system that governed this new world:
---
[ Level: 1 ]
[ Age: 20 ]
[ Gender: Male ]
[ Strength: 5 ]
[ Agility: 4 ]
[ Intelligence: 6 ]
[ Luck: 5 ]
[ Wisdom: 4 ]
[ Awareness Level: Unknown ]
[ Skills: Simple Movement Speed, Fresh Breathing, Quick Response ]
[ Unique Ability: The power to receive one superpower every week ]
---
I looked at the window while sitting at the edge of the bed, shoulders relaxed, hands resting on my legs.
Everything felt familiar — and yet, it carried a strange sensation…
A feeling that I was changing… slowly.
My eyes landed on the "Skills" section, and there it was —
my new ability, sitting calmly next to the previous ones.
Quick Response… it appeared as if it had always been there — quiet, subtle, but present.
I smiled, not even knowing why.
Maybe because I was getting used to this…
Or maybe because I found a strange kind of comfort in the repetition.
Every week, a card appears.
Every week, I'm given something new…
no matter how small or conditional it might be.
I murmured in a soft tone, almost like a whisper to myself:
"As usual, my new ability joined the skills section..."
I paused, then added:
"It might not help me now, but maybe it will later."
Yes, I had learned that lesson before:
In this world, everything matters.
Things might seem useless for now, but the moment we truly need them… often comes.
I glanced at the Strength, Agility, and Intelligence fields. The numbers hadn't changed.
Everything remained still.
I hadn't gained enough experience to level up, nor had I fought a battle that would reshape my body or mind.
But the skills… they were growing.
And to me, they represented a silent accumulation —
as if I was slowly gathering the scattered pieces of a lost self… one by one.
I closed the window slowly, and sighed.
The ability wasn't incredible. It wasn't dazzling.
But it was mine.
And in a world full of the unknown,
sometimes… that's enough to keep hope alive.