The rain had been falling for hours — soft, constant, the kind that made the city glow under dim yellow lights.
Kyler Villamor sat by the window of their small apartment, headset still around his neck, staring at the last call summary of his twelve-hour shift.
The digital clock on the screen blinked 2:47 A.M.
Another long night in customer service.
Another quiet morning no one would remember.
Ashley and the kids were asleep.
Hazel's tiny snores came from the other room, and Nicko had fallen asleep clutching his toy car. The peace inside that cramped apartment was the kind of silence only overworked parents knew — thin but sacred.
Kyler leaned back, rubbing his tired eyes.
Five years of voice calls, five years of patience, five years of slowly fading into routine.
He wasn't miserable — just… still.
Life was predictable. Stable. Ordinary.
And then — it wasn't.
A soft tone echoed in the air.
Not from his phone. Not from his PC.
From somewhere inside.
> [System Initialization Complete.]
Welcome, Kyler Villamor.
Authority Level: Absolute.
Skill Creation Protocol: Unlimited. Cooldown: 24 Hours.]
Kyler froze. His first thought wasn't panic.
It was confusion — calm, cold confusion.
He stood up, listening. The sound was clear, neutral, metallic — like something from nowhere and everywhere at once.
He glanced around the room. Nothing had changed. Yet everything had.
> "System…?" he whispered.
[Awaiting Command.]
His heart skipped.
Every instinct screamed that this wasn't real — maybe fatigue, maybe an auditory glitch from too many calls.
But curiosity was stronger.
He hesitated, then said quietly,
> "Create skill — Perfect Memory."
The lights flickered — just once.
A pulse ran through him, not painful, just absolute.
And suddenly… everything sharpened.
Every word he'd ever read.
Every call he'd ever taken.
Every conversation with Ashley, every laugh from Hazel, every time Nicko called him "Papa."
All of it was there — perfect, vivid, living inside his mind like polished glass.
He staggered slightly, gripping the desk, breath unsteady.
> "System… what are you?"
> [A manifestation of your potential. You are the creator. The limit is your will.]
Kyler stood there, eyes wide, heartbeat slow.
A thousand thoughts spun through his mind — wealth, fame, power, miracles, even immortality.
He could make anything.
Do anything.
Be anything.
And yet, when his gaze drifted toward the bedroom, where his family slept soundly, those thoughts faded.
He smiled faintly — a small, tired smile
Kyler turned off his computer, unplugged the headset, and sat by the window again.
The rain had eased to a drizzle, the city lights still shimmering against the wet asphalt.
He sipped his leftover coffee — cold, bitter, grounding.
Outside, thunder rolled somewhere far away.
Inside, a god sat quietly in a small apartment — thinking about the bills due next week, the tuition he'd need soon, and what kind of breakfast the kids might want tomorrow.
The world had just changed.
But Kyler Villamor didn't.
Not yet.