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Chapter - 2
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I sat down on the cold floor, carefully reading the comic in my hands. The first time I did this, I was just curious, but now it was different—I really needed to get strong, and fast.
I took a slow breath, filling my lungs with air, then exhaled slowly, trying to get my mind in the right state. Honestly, I thought it was all bullshit, just relying on the power of fiction.
After all, I had read that phrase a thousand times in my past life: "Focus your mind, body, and spirit on a single goal." I repeated it inside my head like a mantra, clenching my fists tightly.
I felt every muscle wake up and pulse, as if coming back to life after a long sleep. My bones creaked, my veins felt warm, but it wasn't pain—it was a strange feeling, power ready to explode.
I started doing push-ups, slowly at first.
One.
Two.
Then I picked up the pace. Ten. Twenty.
I didn't feel tired; on the contrary, every movement seemed to give me more strength. Something inside pushed me to keep going, not to stop. But that feeling wasn't enough, so I tried something different that, if it worked, would save me some valuable time.
I stood in front of the mirror and snapped my fingers, repeating the comic's words as if my body was on autopilot, and I no longer noticed the world around me.
At some point, I grabbed heavy weights I had never touched before. Maybe they were one of the few gifts from my father—maybe because he always hated who I was and wanted me to be more like him...
I ignored those thoughts and kept training, feeling that with every passing second, the three fundamentals—mind, body, and spirit—could all come under conscious control.
Then suddenly, a thought crossed my mind: "Such control is the key for change." I felt myself become more muscular, stronger.
Then, all of a sudden, something caught my attention.
A small flicker appeared at the edge of my vision.
[You unlock your first steps into the superhuman side] [Bronze Ticket]
[Weather]
| Trash Ability |
You can accurately predict the weather in a given area for a full week.
I stared at the message for a moment, confused and a little disappointed. A "Trash" ability—I thought, a useless power... But maybe it wasn't that bad. In a world where every detail counts, even knowing the weather could make a difference.
After finishing the workout, I quickly dried off with a towel from the bathroom and felt a bit hungry. I put on a clean T-shirt to look presentable and, after one last glance in the mirror, headed down to the kitchen.
I've never really considered myself handsome, but my parents are good-looking, so the looks must be somewhere in my DNA — it just hasn't bloomed yet… Luckily, I had the Hercules method and the gacha on my side.
Already while walking down the stairs, I could smell an inviting scent of food that made my mouth water. Honestly, I felt like I could eat a whole cow without much trouble.
As soon as I entered, I saw my mom busy cooking something on the stove. I don't know if it was the Hercules method or just my teenage hormones, but I couldn't help staring at her big Latin ass at least until she noticed I was behind her.
"Finally, you're here, Luther," she said with a smile. "I was making your favorite dish."
"Really?" I replied, leaning on the counter. "I didn't think you'd cook something special today."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Don't underestimate a mom when she's hungry to see you eat well instead of the usual junk you and Pete sneak behind my back."
"Well, thanks then. I'm hungrier than ever." I really couldn't understand how my dad could have hit a woman like her. I was truly glad we decided to separate from him — otherwise, I would've broken every bone in his body for making her cry and hurting her.
My mom is a beautiful woman with light brown skin, smooth black hair tied in a ponytail, about 5'3", and hazel eyes that seem to shine and can charm anyone, just from how kind she is. Honestly, she's a sexy figure that would make most other women jealous.
I took a bite of the lunch my mother had prepared, quickly chewing everything in front of me. The food slid down my stomach like I had become some kind of black hole, sucking it all in without pause.
Naturally, my body needed to recover the energy after the workout I had done using the Hercules method. Every muscle had been pushed to its limit, forced out of its comfort zone to grow stronger and more defined.
As the food slowly settled in my stomach, I felt my body begin the recovery process: absorbing every nutrient necessary to repair damaged muscle fibers and promote effective growth.
I knew well that without proper recovery, all the sweat and effort spent during training would have been wasted. I already felt that familiar warmth and tightness in my muscles the sign that the cells were regenerating and growing tougher. It was a continuous cycle of effort and regeneration, a delicate balance that the Hercules method taught to respect.
Because getting stronger wasn't just about pushing yourself to the limit, but also knowing how to take care of yourself to constantly surpass your limits.
My mother sat across from me, holding a cup of coffee in her hands. For a moment, silence fell—and honestly, I didn't mind at all because it made me feel truly at home.
After drinking an entire bottle of water, I looked up and asked, "And the weekend? Any plans?"
She hesitated slightly, and I noticed a tremor running through her hands as she absentmindedly adjusted the hem of her shirt. It wasn't tiredness making her fingers shake, nor the cold—I knew that well, since from what I remember I wasn't much different from her.
It was fear.
That same fear that had nested inside her for years, as subtle as dust, but impossible to shake off.
"Cleaning, as always…" she murmured, trying to sound normal. "Then maybe I'll go buy something." She paused briefly, too short to seem natural. "And you? Are you planning to… stay home for once, or go out with Pete?"
The way she said it was too calm to be true. She was trying to pretend she was okay, but her eyes didn't lie. She wasn't really worried about what I was doing—she was terrified at the thought of being home alone.
Or worse, that my father could come back and continue abusing her.
"Well, Pete asked me to go out this weekend." I looked away, my tone neutral. "He said he wanted to show me something really cool, or at least that's what he said."
"I understand…" she whispered. "It's just that… I was wondering if maybe you could stay home. Just for today. Not forever. Just… today." Her words were fragile, almost ashamed, as if asking her son for company was a fault for an adult woman.
I stayed silent for a moment, then gave a small half-smile. "Alright. I'll stay. I'm sure Pete will understand. If you want, we can have a nice movie night together."
She nodded, lowering her gaze, as if my answer brought her a relief she didn't want to show me. Or maybe that very answer scared her: the idea that I would always be there, and that without me, she felt completely useless.
She didn't answer right away, just nodded, barely holding back a tear she didn't dare to let fall. For a moment, I saw all that hidden pain surface in her eyes. The fear of going out and, above all, of meeting my father and becoming a victim of his violence.
I moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone, Mom. I'm here with you, and we'll face everything together like we always have."
She closed her eyes and took a slow breath, as if those words were her support not to break down. "I know…" she murmured, leaning against my chest so I wouldn't see how weak and defenseless she really was. "I know."
Seeing her like that, a wave of anger started rising inside me, like a volcano ready to erupt, as I looked at the clear mark my hand had left on the metal table from the too much force I had used.
"What was that?!" she asked, turning around to look at the handprint I'd left on the table before locking eyes with me again.
"Hey, Mom? I've got something to tell you. Actually… two things," I said, scratching the back of my head with obvious embarrassment. I let out a low hum, trying to keep my eyes on hers—but I couldn't help noticing how beautiful her hazel eyes were… or how hard it was not to glance down at her big chest, practically bursting out of her shirt.
So, I explained the Hercules Method. I even ran back to my room to grab the comic book that started it all—anything to help back up my story. The dent in the table didn't hurt either, and the fact that we live in a world full of superheroes and kaiju definitely helped my case.
"So it made you stronger?" she asked, clearly intrigued, while I lifted my shirt to show her my abs. She couldn't stop poking at them—completely ignoring how weird it would've looked if someone had walked in on us just then.
"Uh… yeah," I mumbled, before impulsively grabbing her thick ass and lifting her up with ease. She let out a cute little squeak from the surprise, wrapping her arms around my neck so she wouldn't fall, her ears flushed red with embarrassment.
"Luther Strode, put me down right now," she said, trying to sound stern—but I could tell she was enjoying being carried like that.
"Sorry, Mom. Got a bit carried away," I said, gently setting her down on the nearby couch. "I just wanted to show you that everything I said is real." Thankfully, she nodded—she understood.
"…What do you know about gacha?" I asked her after a moment. I didn't hesitate. This was the woman who raised me—who stuck by me no matter how hard things got.
"Gacha? You mean those games you and Pete play on your phones when you say you're studying for exams?" she asked, tilting her head with a confused expression. I had to admit—it was kind of adorable.
"Uhm… no. Pete and I are respectable students who would never do something like that—" I stopped when I caught the Mom Stare. "Okay, fine. You're right. But I think… I might've awakened some kind of… Gacha Power?" I didn't wait for a reaction.
I just summoned my Cave Elemental behind me to show her.
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