"Hmm! Pff…"
"Come on, Adam! You've been through worse than this — another one!"
Sweat ran down his face as Adam glanced at his coach, then gritted his teeth. Every ounce of strength left in his body surged for the final push.
Come on…! he screamed in his mind.
"Argh… finally done for today!"
Adam dropped the bar and sank onto the floor, chest heaving, muscles trembling from the effort.
"Haha! Once again, you've gone beyond your average performance! You're really built different!"
John, his personal coach, was a giant of a man — over six feet tall and as broad as a doorframe. From a distance, he could be mistaken for a wall. His short buzzcut gave him a militaristic edge, but his bright eyes and energetic demeanor betrayed a gentle, good‑natured soul.
Having recovered quickly, Adam stood up, hands on his hips, and shot John a triumphant smile.
"You know me. My big day's coming up next week, and I wanted to make sure my body's ready. Plus, it's been a while since I pushed myself this hard in training — I wanted to go beyond my usual limits."
"Well, you sure did! Ten repetitions at 250 kg on the deadlift with your build — that's beyond the norm. Even though it's not your specialty, you could definitely compete in a weightlifting competition," John said, grinning with pride.
Adam stood at an average height of 5'9", lean and explosive. Dressed in a simple sweatshirt, no one would guess the raw power beneath. His light brown hair, Greek nose, and striking green eyes gave him a predatory look, though John always joked that Adam's happy‑go‑lucky vibe softened it. When Adam's father had asked him to train the boy, John never imagined the raw potential he possessed. If he had to describe him in one line: Nature's anomaly.
"I love the feeling of pushing myself in training," Adam said, stretching his arms, "but I really can't muster any motivation for competitions. Such a waste of time. I've got more exciting things to do. How about you? You're still only forty, right? Why not compete?"
"I did my time, little man. Back then, your father wasn't even as strong as me, and few could compete. Now, I prefer watching young sprouts grow into tall trees… just like you," John replied with a gentle smile.
"I wonder if you'll ever stop reminding people that my father was weaker than you," Adam said, rolling his eyes.
"Don't count on it. Though honestly, I really can't compare anymore," John laughed.
"Anyway, I've got to go — I can't miss Sunday family dinner. Want to join us? My mother's making your favorite, burgundy beef stew," Adam asked.
"I'd love to, but my wife and I have a date planned. We're checking out a new restaurant in Manhattan, right by the sea," John replied.
"Ah, tell me if it was worth the hype. Marie's been pestering me about it," Adam said, bumping fists with him.
"I will. And don't forget your supplements — those next few hours are the most effective window after training," John added.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. See you in a month," Adam replied, still slightly uncomfortable at being treated like a kid. He grabbed his bag and headed toward the locker room.
"Take care — and good luck with your stunt," John called after him.
Adam waved carelessly as he disappeared into the locker room. He took a quick shower, changed into more comfortable clothes, and headed out, already drooling at the thought of the dinner waiting for him at home.
As he stepped outside the gym he'd been going to for the past eight years, he spotted his bus pulling away from the stop.
Adam sighed, feeling unlucky — once again missing his ride home. The next one wouldn't be there for another hour. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked the time.
Mmm… 7:30 p.m. I can still make it, he thought.
He exhaled, took off his vest, and stuffed it into his backpack. Earphones in, he scrolled through his playlist.
This one maybe… no — wait, that one's better.
Decision made.
Already feeling energized after just a short break, Adam took a deep breath. Music blasting in his ears, he took off in a sprint. The bass hit so hard it blended with the distant honking, the rumble of a passing subway — the city's heartbeat syncing with his own.
At night, New York was a light show. Streetlights flickered over wet asphalt. Neon signs painted the walls in pale blues and reds. The distant hum of traffic mixed with occasional sirens. The city pulsed around him, alive even in its quiet hours.
He cut through the streets, weaving past pedestrians, earning a few shouted curses along the way.
🎵 A fast, aggressive beat exploded in his ears 🎵
His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest. He smiled.
This is living.
While cutting through a narrow alley, a black cat suddenly appeared right in front of him.
Adam leapt over it without slowing down. "Sorry, little kitty — gotta run!"
The cat froze.
Its fur bristled, body low to the ground, eyes glinting a vivid yellow… with a faint hint of red. It watched Adam's back as he vaulted over a nearby wall and disappeared from sight.
Then, movement.
A small mouse scurried out from behind a bin.
In a blur, the cat struck.
One clean swipe. The mouse's head dropped instantly. The cat caught the body in its jaws and sprang upward, climbing from wall to pipe, vanishing into the heights to enjoy its meal somewhere safe.
Thirty minutes later…
"Haa… made it right on time!"
Adam stood before a sleek, modern house, its sharp lines softened by a small rooftop garden. A glass balcony overlooked New York Harbor, dark under the night sky, lights from passing boats glittering on the water.
"Coming through!" Adam called, pushing open the front door — a tall, smooth wooden panel with a slim steel frame and a polished handle — and stepped into the living room, where a warm, golden light bathed the space.
"Ah! You made it just in time, or I would've had your share of dinner, son!" a deep voice called from the couch, eyes half on the TV and half on the fading news ticker.
"Sorry, Dad. Didn't want you getting lucky tonight," Adam said with a grin. "And honestly… at this rate, I'm not sure Mom would even have room to sleep if you kept getting bigger!"
"For starters, I'm not 'big,' I'm strong. And for women, stronger is better," his dad replied with a booming laugh. "But you wouldn't understand, with your scrawny frame!"
Victor Corvenius seemed larger than life. Broad‑shouldered and tall, his light brown hair framed a face with warm brown eyes and a neatly trimmed stubble, a testament to years of relentless training and lifting unimaginable weights. His laughter filled the room, making the quiet night feel lively, like a storm of energy contained within the cozy living space.
Adam smirked, dropping his bag by the door. "Yeah, yeah… strong, sure. Just don't start bench‑pressing the couch."
Victor chuckled, leaning back, the glow of the TV reflecting faintly in his eyes. "One day, son, you'll see. Strength isn't just about size. It's about control… and maybe a touch of ego, of course."
Adam let out a sigh, sinking into the comfort of home after a long day. He kicked off his shoes and headed toward the kitchen, already smelling the aroma of dinner waiting for him — warm herbs, something simmering, something familiar.
The moment he stepped inside, he froze — then smiled.
His mother was dancing.
Elena Corvenius moved with a lightness that didn't belong to someone her age. Blonde hair tied loosely, soft green eyes glowing under the kitchen lights, she swayed to the rhythm of the music while stirring a simmering pot. Years of sprinting and jumping had carved grace into her bones; every step had the effortless precision of a leopard stretching under the sun.
"I see you still got that groove in your legs, Mom!" Adam laughed, sliding next to her and matching her steps. It was their little ritual — a pre‑dinner dance that had started when he was a kid and somehow never stopped.
From the living room, Victor's voice boomed:
"Every time you two do that, I swear it looks like some kind of tribal sacrifice dance!"
Elena rolled her eyes without breaking her rhythm. "If it is, you're the one we're sacrificing, dear."
Victor barked a laugh. "Ha! Good luck lifting me!"
Adam snorted, spinning his mother once before letting her return to the pot.
"How was your day, superboy? Did you have fun with John?" Elena asked, glancing at him with that warm, teasing smile she reserved only for him.
"As always," Adam replied, dropping into a chair. "I had fun almost dying, surpassing my limits, resurrecting right after, all while John screamed in my ears. Perfect training session in my book. And with what you're cooking tonight, I had all the motivation I needed to make as much space in my stomach as possible."
He let out a quick laugh, rubbing his abdomen as if he could already feel the hunger kicking in.
"Lucky for you, dinner's almost ready. Your stomach probably got some cosmic signal that the food was done," Elena said, giving him a playful look before her tone shifted just a little. "But try not to break anything while training, alright? You should take it easy for the next few days. You're going to need that body of yours next week."
There was firmness in her voice, but the warmth never left it.
Adam looked at his mother. That face — untouched by time, still carrying the same warm, protective gaze she'd had since he was a child — now held a faint hint of concern. The kind she'd developed ever since he started pulling off increasingly insane stunts.
"Do not worry, Mother Dear," he declared dramatically, straightening up and placing a hand on his forehead like a soldier saluting his general. "I shall refrain from any intense endeavour in the coming days."
Elena raised an eyebrow, amused.
Adam dropped the act just as quickly, his posture relaxing back into his usual easygoing self. "And anyway, I plan to spend most of the next few days with you and Marie before I leave."
"You should really treasure Marie, she's a real angel," Elena said, remembering the girl who had been coming over for dinner for years now. "You should invite her again in the next few days. I've got a client asking for recommendations, and Marie would be perfect for that."
"Yeah, bring her back home and marry her already," Victor added as he stepped into the kitchen. "I don't know what kind of insane luck you had to find such a nice girl."
Elena stopped stirring.
"Dear husband," she said slowly, turning toward him with a smile that wasn't quite a smile, "what exactly do you mean by that? Do you not feel lucky enough yourself?"
Victor froze. A single bead of sweat rolled down his temple — the universal sign that he had just stepped on a landmine.
Adam bit back a laugh. He knew that smile. Everyone in the house knew that smile. It was the one that promised a one‑way trip straight to hell.
Victor instantly switched into survival mode. He straightened his back, put on his most charming smile, dropped to one knee, took Elena's hand with exaggerated reverence, and declared:
"My love… you are the perfect emerald I discovered in an ocean of gold. A radiant spark that blesses my days. Without you, I lose my edge. Without you, I am but a hollow man wandering through—"
Adam's brain shut off.
Here we go again.
He stared blankly at the wall as his father's voice faded into a dramatic, poetic monologue that would easily last another five minutes — or until Elena decided he had suffered enough.
And honestly? Adam was both jealous of how effortlessly his dad could pull this off… and two seconds away from puking.
Beep.
"Dear, you're such a charmer… but dinner's ready, and Adam's brain is clearly shutting down," Elena announced, fully satisfied with her husband's performance. She mentally nodded to herself. I trained him well.
Both Adam and Victor let out the exact same relieved "Pff—" before exchanging a look and bursting into laughter.
Adam headed to the table while Victor went to grab the cutlery. A moment later, Elena served three plates — well, technically two gorilla‑sized portions and one human portion — and brought them over with the practiced grace of someone who had done this a thousand times.
"Thanks for this lifesaving meal, Mom. My stomach and I sincerely thank you," Adam said between bites, practically inhaling his plate.
"Right? Even after twenty years of marriage, she still manages to surpass herself," Victor added, eating just as fast.
Elena sighed at the sight of her husband and son devouring their food like two starving ghosts… then smiled. Seeing them eat with that much enthusiasm always warmed her heart.
"I got a tip from a close friend to improve the sauce. I'm glad you like it," she said with a small, proud smile.
"You know, the one who owns the French restaurant uptown," she added.
"Oh yeah, I remember. She makes some of the best food in New York. The French really know what they're doing… even if they eat frogs," Victor said.
Elena chuckled. "Funny you mention frogs. It's one of her specialties. But apparently, it's been harder and harder to get good ones lately. And the ones she does get are much bigger than usual, and don't have that soft taste anymore. It's becoming a problem."
"Oh no, we won't be able to eat frogs anymore. What a tragedy," Adam said sarcastically, shivering at the memory of that weird dish. Just thinking about the taste made his stomach twist.
"Oh? Superboy is scared of little frogs?" Victor teased, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Old man, at least I'm not scared of something I eat every day. Like chickens," Adam shot back with a smirk.
"That's different," Victor protested immediately, waving his fork like he was defending a national policy. "Those murder machines have dinosaur blood in their veins. They're vicious."
Adam stared at him, deadpan.
Before he could fire back, Elena tapped her spoon against the table.
"Children, stop fighting," she said with the calm authority of someone who had handled this circus for years. She pointed toward the TV across the living room. "They're talking about something on the news… and it might be related to my friend's problem."
Adam and Victor exchanged a look, snorted in sync, then turned their attention to the screen.
"I know that guy," Adam said, leaning forward with a hand on his chin. "Marie told me about his research on species evolution, I think."
FLASH INFO
"Good evening, everyone. Today we welcome Dr. Curtis, a renowned PhD in evolutionary biology from Harvard University. He's here to discuss the recent anomalies observed in several animal species, as well as the surge in unusual creatures reported across the country. Thank you for joining us, Doctor."
"Thank you for having me," Dr. Curtis replied. He was a man with deep, thoughtful eyes and hair grayed by time, the kind of presence that made you instinctively listen.
"Doctor, could you tell us more about what's been happening across the country? We've heard reports of species disappearing, strange anomalies replacing them, and even entirely new creatures appearing in large numbers."
"It's not hearsay — it's fact," Dr. Curtis said, his tone grave. "Global biodiversity has changed dramatically over the past year. Some species have evolved at a pace we've never recorded before. In certain cases, the amount of evolutionary change observed in twelve months is equivalent to what would normally take hundreds of thousands, even millions of years."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"We're also seeing anomalies — individuals that are significantly larger, stronger, or biologically altered compared to their species' baseline. And then there are the disappearances. Some species have almost completely vanished without explanation. Ants, for example… one of the most widespread and resilient groups on the planet… have nearly disappeared."
A murmur rippled through the studio.
Dr. Curtis drew a slow breath.
"The most troubling part is that we have found no cause. No chemical exposure, no environmental shift, no pathogen, nothing. Evolution has always been a slow, reactive process. But what we're seeing now… it's as if nature itself decided to accelerate everything." He finished with a tone that hinted at a deeply unsettling future.
Adam leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. There was something in the doctor's gaze — a quiet dread he wasn't trying to hide.
Victor cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood.
"Ha… I was wondering why meat prices have been going up lately. Let's hope the government gets this under control quickly."
"Your stomach always thinks before your brain," Adam said, snapping back to reality. "But it is worrying. Nature is something we've studied forever, yet the more we learn, the less we seem to understand…" His voice had grown quieter, almost uneasy.
Elena reached out and gently placed a hand on his forearm, her tone soft and reassuring. "Don't worry, Adam. I'm sure the government is already working to contain this."
Right on cue, as if the universe wanted to mock her, Dr. Curtis added on TV:
"The government doesn't seem to know what it's doing."
An awkward silence settled over the room.
Elena let out a small sigh. "Haa… anyway, there are people far more qualified than us dealing with this. We just need to stay informed and prepare ourselves."
"Right, thinking isn't your thing anyway," Victor said with a booming laugh, slapping Adam's back so hard his soul nearly escaped his body.
Adam coughed, wheezing for air. "Old man, one day you'll kill me like that — and I swear I'll possess a chicken just to haunt you every morning."
"Get stronger and I won't accidentally kill you, haha!" Victor roared, clearly proud of himself.
Adam sighed, convinced his father would forever remain the same oversized gorilla. He turned toward his mother with a grin. "It was delicious, Mom. As always. Best cook ever."
Elena smiled softly as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.
Adam then shot his father a half‑annoyed, half‑amused huff before heading toward the hallway. Without another word, he climbed the stairs and went to his room.
His room was a strange balance between athlete and nerd: dumbbells on the floor, a pull‑up bar on the door, a tiny bookshelf overflowing with sci‑fi novels, and a desk glowing with the soft light of his computer. A couple of medals hung beside posters of athletes… and, for some reason, a giant Goku doing a Kamehameha.
No point thinking about all that. Right now, I just need sleep, he thought.
He changed into more comfortable clothes — a loose shirt and shorts — then collapsed face‑first onto his bed.
Bzz.
Without lifting his head from the pillow, he reached blindly toward his nightstand, unlocked his phone, and squinted at the screen.
Marie had texted him.
"Hi Adam, how was training? Did you get those sexy muscles all sweaty? ❤️"
Adam smiled despite his exhaustion. Marie. The girl who had been by his side for so long she'd become irreplaceable.
"Yeah, all for you, my mad scientist," he typed back.
"Pff, liar. You only sweat for adrenaline and protein shakes."
Adam chuckled softly into his pillow. "Maybe. But you still take second place — you should be proud of that."
"Lucky me. Don't forget tomorrow at noon, in Midtown. And put on your alarm, okay? When you sleep it's like you go into hibernation, you big bear."
"No worries. I wouldn't miss a minute with you. Besides, who else is gonna teach me how to get bigger muscles if I'm late?"
"Haha, funny. You'll pay me with ice cream if you want that."
"Deal. Marché conclu."
"Thank you, Monsieur. Good night, my Frankenstein!"
Adam smiled, eyes half‑closed. "You too, mad scientist…"
His phone slipped from his hand. The room fell silent. Sleep pulled him under.
And just before drifting off, a faint, inexplicable thought crossed his mind — one that didn't feel like his.
Something is changing.