Ron sat at the breakfast table, chewing silently. Gia was also quiet, fiddling with her phone with one hand while eating her omelet with the other.
"So, how's trade school going, dear?" a smooth voice rang out. It was Gia's mother, a woman in her late 30s with dark blonde hair and honey-colored eyes, sitting across from them. This was Ron's aunt. None of them had told her about yesterday's incident.
"It's fine," Gia gave a short reply, not looking up from her phone. Her mother didn't seem to mind. Then, she looked at Ron.
"And how about you? Are you going to take that eligibility test or not?" She looked at him intently. Ron paused and looked up at her face. He could see the tiredness in her eyes, which were devoid of any real hope. It was clear she was asking merely as a formality, having already lost faith in him.
"Yes. I will," he answered, also keeping it short. There was no point in puffing up his chest when he knew it wouldn't be easy at all.
"I'll be praying for you then," she stated before getting busy with her own preparations. After finishing breakfast, Ron stood up, washed his plate, and left the house.
This world, now that he thought about it, wasn't much different from Earth. People looked the same, and no significant differences in architecture or environment could be seen. That was likely because this was a Non-Awakened settlement—poor and dark. The Awakened lived in their own proper neighborhoods.
However, even if this wasn't such a settlement, there still wouldn't be any Awakened using their powers randomly. In fact, it was illegal to use your powers in public places without a license. To get a license, of course, you had to join the AC.
Ron went straight to the nearby park and sat down on a bench. At this late morning hour, most people were at work or school, so it was mostly empty.
Casually, he picked up a blade of grass and held it in front of him. Then, he concentrated.
The blade bent over in half, but it didn't break.
"Too weak," he mumbled, throwing the blade away and picking up another. He repeated the process.
Pick, bend, throw, pick another.
From what he knew from the original Ron's memories, he had indeed been able to bend grass, paper, and burst soap bubbles with his powers. However, when he tried to bend something even remotely sturdy, it became too much for him.
This wasn't unheard of. In the context of the Awakened, it was called a "bottleneck" or a "limitation."
Imagine the human body as a clogged pipe. Some water definitely flows out, but the volume is too low and the flow is weak. No matter how much more water you add, the flow doesn't increase. However, if you keep adding more and more water, there will eventually be two outcomes: either the pipe will get unclogged and the water will flow easily, or the pipe will break apart.
That's why bottlenecks were dangerous. The previous Ron hadn't cared for his body and had kept using his telekinesis again and again, which caused him to get injured frequently, but it hadn't been enough to break the bottleneck.
It would be easier if he could just spend millions of credits to get an expert to help him with this. Some Awakened had the ability to break bottlenecks externally; it was like using a tool to clear the pipe rather than relying on the water pressure itself.
"However, I can't afford that. I'll have to change strategies," Ron mused as the tenth blade fell to the ground.
The earlier strategy was about volume and duration—Ron thought that if he could concentrate for hours on a single spoon, the constant pressure would force the bottleneck to break. That had failed.
Now, there was a second strategy: send small volumes of energy in quick pulses, focused on the smallest possible point. Not only would it take less energy per attempt, but it would also reduce the strain on his body.
However, it would be incredibly time-consuming.
"I'm already tired."
His plan was simple. Use his telekinesis on as many small things as he could in quick succession. Slowly but surely, the bottleneck would crack. You can't break a wall by pressing your fist against it for hours. However, if you punch it with small bursts of force on the same spot again and again, it will take some damage with every blow.
"But this could take millions of grass blades. Or maybe thousands. I can't be sure how stubborn my bottleneck is."
Even if he bent one grass blade every three seconds for a million repetitions, it would take around a month of non-stop, 24/7 grinding.
Not that it would stop him. He got up from the bench and sat down on the grass. All this picking and throwing was time-consuming; he would have to do this more directly.
He crossed his legs and sat in a lotus position. First, he meditated for a while, then opened his eyes and focused on a particular grass blade, bending it easily. Then he looked at the one beside it and did the same.
10, 20, 30... 100
He easily bent 100 blades before he finally needed to stop. His head was already aching. Even if it was a wall he had to break, the wall was inside his body, and breaking it would definitely hurt.
He rested for thirty seconds before starting again.
100, 200, 500
He kept at it, and slowly a clear patch of bent grass began to form around him. He didn't care.
Persevere. It was a simple, boring, and uncomfortable task.
But it was hope.
600... 700..
In one hour, he managed around 700 blades of grass. This was far slower than he'd hoped; his initial calculation of three seconds per blade was optimistic. His current pace was closer to one blade every 5 seconds, but the fatigue was making it feel much longer.
His breathing was heavy, and his head was a mess. Sweat was forming all over his body.
Good. This just means that the bottleneck inside him is taking damage.
"I could be wrong," he thought, "but as the bottleneck slowly cracks, the process should get easier. I might be able to make the deadline after all."