The first thing Ethan noticed about the community pool was the smell. Chlorine—sharp and clean—cut through the air, stinging his nose. It reminded him of summer, of days when life had been simpler. Before he'd died and woken up in this world. Before telekinesis. Before Peter Parker started hounding him for friendship.
Before he had to worry about Galactus coming and eating planet Earth.
'Back then,' he thought as he stepped into the humid air of the indoor pool, 'I was just an average guy trying to pass college.'
Now, though, swimming has become a sanctuary for him. The feel of the water around him, the silence beneath the surface, where no one could bother him, where the weight of his secrets evaporated. For a few hours each week, he could just focus on one thing—his breathing.
The coach, a middle-aged man with a beer belly but a voice that could command an army, blew his whistle. "Alright, kids! Let's hit the water!"
Ethan didn't hesitate. He peeled off his shirt, already wearing his swim trunks, and dove into the pool. The cold hit him, jolting his senses, but in the best way. Weightlessness. There was something about being submerged, the way his body moved so effortlessly, how the water slipped over his skin.
It was like flying.
Stroke after stroke, he cut through the water, his movements precise, and efficient. He'd started coming to this pool not long after he'd realized he had powers, and now, years later, it had become a part of him.
A place to train not just his body, but his mind.
Yet another way to maintain his sanity.
"Ethan, you're up!" the coach barked.
Ethan surfaced, shaking his hair out of his face. He paddled to the edge of the pool, ready for another drill.
The other kids on the swim team had started to notice his progress. Ethan wasn't the biggest or the strongest, but he was fast. Faster than most of them, and it wasn't because of his powers. Telekinesis didn't help him here. This was all hard work and technique. And maybe a little obsession.
He climbed out of the water and made his way over to the diving board, mentally preparing for his next task. As he stood at the edge of the board, staring down into the shimmering water below, his mind briefly wandered.
'I wonder if I could swim faster with telekinesis?' he mused. 'Just give myself a little push in the water… no one would ever know.'
He quickly dismissed the thought. It wasn't about winning or cheating. Swimming was his escape, and a bloody good workout. He didn't want to taint it by relying on his powers.
He focused, inhaled, and then jumped.
The moment his body hit the water, everything went quiet. His ears filled with the gentle roar of the water around him, and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. He sliced through the pool with a series of perfect strokes, his body moving like a machine.
'This is what I need,' He thought, enjoying his muscle burning.
When he finished, he surfaced, his chest heaving as he clung to the side of the pool. He glanced up at the clock. His time had improved again.
"Good job, Cain!" Coach's booming voice rang out from the other side of the pool. "Keep that up and we might just have a champion on our hands."
Ethan smiled but said nothing. He didn't care about championships. He cared about mastery. Mastery of his mind, his body, and his powers.
As practice came to an end, he hoisted himself out of the water and grabbed his towel. The other kids on the team were packing up, chatting about school, video games, and weekend plans.
Ethan lingered for a moment, watching them. Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to be a normal kid. To join in those conversations and not constantly have to guard his every word. But then he reminded himself:
'Normal is a luxury I can't afford.'
And even if he could, how much did he have in common with literal children?
He shook his head, tossing the towel over his shoulder as he headed to the locker room.
. . .
Later that week, Ethan found himself standing on the wrestling mat, facing down his next challenge. This wasn't swimming. This was a raw, physical confrontation, and it wasn't something he could back away from.
The gym was packed with parents and kids, the bleachers filled that awkward mix of anticipation with a hint of total boredom that made pee-wee sports so utterly weird.
Ethan's school wrestling team had a match that afternoon, and he was up against a kid two years older than him, another year and he'll get socially promoted, but till then he had to wrestle him.
His opponent was tall—taller than Ethan by a couple of inches—and clearly stronger. His muscles bulged beneath his singlet, and he wore an expression of smug confidence. The kind of look that said he didn't expect to lose.
Ethan eyed him carefully, sizing him up. Overconfident. Good.
The referee stepped forward and gave them both a nod. "Ready?"
Ethan crouched slightly, his eyes locked on his opponent. His heart was pounding, but not with fear. This was adrenaline. He'd been training for this, perfecting his moves, his strategy. Wrestling wasn't about brute strength, at least not entirely. It was about technique, positioning, and predicting your opponent's moves. And if there was one thing Ethan had learned in his life as a transmigrator, it was the importance of anticipation.
"Wrestle!"
The whistle blew, and the older boy lunged at him, moving fast for someone his size. Ethan reacted on instinct, dodging to the side, but he could feel the force of the boy's arm brush past him.
'He's not slow.'
They circled each other on the mat, the crowd's noise fading into the background. Ethan's mind worked like a machine, processing the boy's stance, the way he shifted his weight, and the slight twitch in his muscles.
His opponent lunged again, this time aiming for a double-leg takedown. Ethan sidestepped, ducked low, and grabbed the boy's ankle, pulling hard. With a grunt, his opponent hit the mat, and the crowd erupted in cheers.
Ethan didn't pause. He scrambled on top, locking the boy in a firm hold, but the older kid wasn't done yet. Using his strength, he powered through, shoving Ethan off and regaining his footing.
For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Ethan saw the shift in the boy's expression. The smirk was gone, replaced with something closer to frustration.
'Good. Keep him frustrated. Keep him off balance.'
They circled each other again, and this time, Ethan made the first move. He feinted left, then shot low, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist. With a quick twist of his hips, he executed a perfect hip toss, sending his opponent crashing back to the mat.
The crowd roared ... .Well, it did in his imagination, but he was pretty sure his dad squealed in happiness and said something about teaching him everything he knew.
"Atta boy, Cain!" his coach yelled from the sidelines.
But Ethan wasn't done. He had to finish this. He pressed down, pinning the older boy to the mat with all his weight. The seconds ticked by in his head.
One… Two… Three!
The referee's whistle blew, and it was over. Ethan had won.
He stood up, breathing heavily, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The crowd cheered, but Ethan barely noticed. His mind was already elsewhere, thinking about his next challenge. Wrestling had taught him a lot, but he was starting to realize that there were limits to what it could offer.
. . .
That night, as he lay in bed, Ethan replayed the day's events in his mind. The swimming practice, the wrestling match; it had all gone well, but something was missing. Wrestling had taught him discipline, strategy, and technique, but he needed more.
He needed a way to channel everything he'd learned into something bigger.
His thoughts drifted to martial arts. He'd seen the flyers at the community center advertising classes in various disciplines—karate, taekwondo, jiu-jitsu. The idea was pretty intriguing.
Martial arts weren't just about physical combat; they were about control, precision, and balance. The same principles he'd been applying to his telekinesis.
'I need to expand my toolkit,' he thought. 'If I'm going to keep growing, I can't just rely on what I know now.'
The thought excited him. Martial arts would be a new challenge, something that would push him both physically and mentally. He could already imagine how the techniques would blend with his powers, how the discipline and philosophy behind the martial arts would help him refine his control.
The next day, Ethan stood in front of the community center's bulletin board, scanning the martial arts class schedule. There were several options, each one with its own benefits.
"Karate, huh?" he muttered to himself, eyeing the flier. "Maybe."
Author's Note:
If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead or support my work, you can check out my P@treon at P@treon.com/LordCampione. But don't worry—all chapters will eventually be public. Just being here and reading means the world to me. Thank you for your time and support.