53. Becoming a Superhero

Becoming a Superhero

These days, most people have played a role-playing computer game at least once. Even someone like me, who had almost no interest in games, had tried one or two out of curiosity.

After more than a week of living through the real version of a “game,” I could confidently say that reality resembled those games I barely remembered about as much as watching an action movie resembled actually shooting a gun and being shot by one.

Cheng Rui’s near-death experience had shaken Chi Li badly. My best friend stayed by the bed where he was slowly recovering and refused to leave.

For me, it only confirmed something I already knew: the fact that we had survived this long was nothing short of a miracle.

Name: Ye Lin
Profile: Female human, 17 years, 3 months, 13 days old

Abilities [10 available / 56 total]
Force Adjustment lv3
Force Sense lv2
Forcefield Creation lv2
Forced Acceleration lv3
Constant Force lv2
Persistent Force lv2
Progressive Regeneration lv3
Proximal Manipulation lv3
Super Suit lv1
Defensive Counter lv1
Instant Action lv1
Temporal Jump lv1
Spatial Distortion lv1
Spatial Jump lv1

Attributes [10 available / 56 total]
Strength 22, Agility 12, Intelligence 6, Perception 9, Spirit 12, Luck 2

Looking at all the points accumulated from a single battle—enough to significantly improve my combat ability—I wondered for one moment whether Cheng Rui would still be lying unconscious in bed, nearly crippled, if I had used those points earlier.

The thought lasted only a moment.

A good memory and sharper awareness did not allow me the luxury of self-blame.

There had been no chance to upgrade during the fight. Even a few seconds of adjustment could have led to mistakes, and those mistakes would have gotten me and others killed.

This was not like a game. Checking your character sheet in battle was like texting while driving in a Formula One race—except all the other drivers were insane and actively trying to ram you.

That realization was not comforting.

It meant I had to set aside my worry for my friends, the exhaustion after adrenaline faded, several fresh and intimate experiences of the horrors of war, and every other distraction, then decide how to distribute these points before carrying out the new mission.

That mission could not wait hours or days while I sorted myself out, because delay meant more people would die.

Being a superhero truly sucked.

But someone still had to do it.

One major advantage of super-speed was that a few minutes of preparation could stretch into half an hour subjectively.

Proximal Manipulation also meant I could use my powers to fill a bathtub in seconds. The same principle that let Force Adjustment ignite air let me make the water instantly steaming hot.

As for changing clothes, I simply dismissed Super Suit and used my powers to scrub away the dirt, grease, and blood from my body.

Then, before anyone could say “practical superpowers,” I jumped into the tub. The last time I had worn ordinary, easily damaged clothing had been about a week earlier.

So there I was, soaking in hot, bubbly heaven, making serious decisions.

Someone once said that only insects specialize.

It was wonderful in theory to be able to do everything, but the truth was that people had limited time and resources.

The more skills a person tried to learn, the less time and fewer resources they could devote to any one of them. The result was mediocrity and failure.

There were more than ten thousand professions in the world, each with its own requirements. Specialization was necessary.

The same applied to these magical powers we had gained.

My new abilities had already proven useful. It was good that I could now deal with situations I previously could not handle. But available points were limited, because earning more required ever-greater challenges.

So there were two important questions: what abilities did I need, and what kind of person did I want to become?

Given the way magic affected my body, mind, and appearance, the second question might actually be more important than the first.

Which brought up the matter of core ideas and archetypes.

I sighed, tipped my head back until it sank under the water, and stared up at the bright red brick ceiling overhead.

From watching people use magic, and from the… less than fully reliable information Liya had provided, it had become increasingly clear that magic functioned and grew stronger based on personal thought and intent.

What had once been a dark, narrow, concrete basement passage had become the broad underground level of a great manor, full of brickwork, bronze fittings, and lights that looked like gas lamps but were not.

Grandma Lin, the old woman who controlled this building, had awakened her power while thinking about kitchen witches from fairy tales. The building was changing accordingly to suit that idea.

It was another example of how, as our powers grew, we grew stronger in a particular direction too—just like Cheng Rui and his super-science, or Chi Li and her magic.

As for me, ever since the invasion began, I had simply done whatever worked.

And yet, without consciously choosing it, my ability selections had been moving in a very specific direction.

Maybe repetition made that change obvious.

Maybe spending a few minutes thinking seriously after improving my attributes let me notice it.

Either way, I could finally see where the path was leading.

I had not set out to become a classic superhero.

But I would be lying if I said I did not think it was awesome.

Strength, durability, speed, and flight were iconic powers because they were both effective and spectacular.

Add in a few tricks to patch their weaknesses, and those powers had helped me and others survive the invasion and the many threats that followed.

Strengthening “superhero” as a goal, consciously embracing it the way other people embraced their own changes…

I did not think I would regret it.

In fact, for the first time, I felt anticipation for whatever changes came next.

I put two points into Agility and two into Spirit, raising both attributes to fourteen.

In both respects, I had already edged past the peak of ordinary humanity. My flexibility, balance, precision, grace, and appearance all took small but definite steps toward the supernatural.

My mental image and sense of my own body rose with them, because those higher attributes worked together with Perception.

I did not need a mirror to know that my beauty was no longer the kind only retouching could create. It had become something natural, comparable to what a team of professional makeup artists could produce for a skilled model.

I could tell from the way drops of water ran off my skin like they belonged in a skincare commercial. I could feel it in the way my hair, once dry, spread across my shoulders in soft golden waves.

Beauty was far from the only thing affected.

But if I claimed it played no part in my decision-making process, I would definitely be lying.

If anyone tells you beauty is only skin-deep, smile and tell them that if skin is so unimportant, they should try having theirs peeled off.

Before those changes even finished stabilizing—before they were half complete, really—I put all six remaining points into Strength.

Suddenly my body felt stretched.

Not physically stretched, exactly. It was more like my body had become too small to contain the new power inside it.

Every movement carried a noticeable inertia. Everything around me felt lighter, less solid, as if made of foam.

For the span of one heartbeat, that sensation was deeply unsettling.

Then my newly improved coordination and mental self-image adapted.

Without using any active or passive powers, I pressed one finger against the washing machine beside the tub and tipped it.

It still felt heavy, as heavy as it should.

But moving it was as easy as pushing an empty cup.

My brain’s interpretation of sensory information had adjusted, making it easier for me to use and control my new level of physical ability.

As long as I continued increasing Agility and Spirit in roughly the same proportion, I could keep raising Strength without problems.

Further testing proved that although my outward build had barely changed, moving my limbs had become as effortless and quick as blinking. My strength-to-weight ratio was so high that, even without powers, my limbs almost seemed weightless.

If I stayed relaxed, other people might not feel any difference.

But the slightest effort would make my grip tighter than a steel clamp, as the washing machine frame discovered when it dented under my fingers.

I climbed out of the tub, canceled the water-heating effect, used Proximal Manipulation to drain the water, and formed my suit again.

This time I chose a tight full-body suit with gloves, boots, and a belt, all in deep blue.

Despite the hellscape around me doing its best to change my mind, I never wanted to wear black again.

If I was going to become a superhero, I might as well embrace it properly.