Since his eyes opened, he gazed up at the ceiling before sliding off the couch to stretch his limbs. At least, that's what he intended to do. Surprisingly, his body felt unusually fluid—no stiffness, no aching muscles. His limbs moved with unexpected ease, as if they needed no stretching at all. He completed the motion purely from habit.
"Since when do I wake up feeling this normal?" he wondered, puzzled by the unfamiliar sensation. "This never happens. Must be something strange going on. I'll just wait it out."
Sin headed toward the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat. He swung open the pantry doors, then checked the refrigerator, but found absolutely nothing—not even a single grain of rice.
"Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair. "No food. Can't be surprised though, it's probably afternoon already." He sighed deeply. "I should really start buying batches of groceries instead of just one item at a time."
Resigning himself to another shopping trip, Sin changed into fresh clothes—a vibrant red shirt, sleek black leather pants, and gleaming white shoes. He locked his apartment door behind him and set off toward the nearest store, his footsteps echoing on the pavement as he walked.
After what seemed like an eternity of walking, Sin finally reached his destination. Pushing open the store doors, he navigated the aisles in search of sustenance.
"I know I don't have enough for bulk purchases," he thought, mentally calculating his meager budget, "but I can at least buy more than usual."
He selected several bags of rice and some chicken dishes—enough to last a few days. The rice would stretch further, allowing him to buy more chicken later.
"It is what it is," Sin murmured to himself as he paid and exited the store.
Outside, a crowd suddenly formed around him, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"What are you all looking at?" Sin demanded, uncomfortable with the attention.
"We know you," someone replied. "You're the guy who collapsed in pain on the ground yesterday, aren't you?"
The words triggered a vivid flashback. Sin remembered visiting the store the previous day, buying a sausage roll, and spotting a peculiar red orb. Unfortunately, the adage about curiosity killing the cat hadn't crossed his mind. He had touched the mysterious orb, and excruciating pain had surged through his entire body.
As the memory faded, Sin composed himself. "I'm fine now," he assured them with forced confidence. "There's no reason to worry."
An elderly man pushed through the crowd, waving everyone away. The onlookers dispersed reluctantly, casting backward glances as they scattered.
"Let me tell you, boy," the old man began, his voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge, "that ball you touched wasn't just any ball."
"I know that, Sherlock," Sin retorted sarcastically.
Unperturbed, the elder continued, "It is the Ball of the Senegal Demon, an ancient artifact."
Sin furrowed his brow in confusion. "What in the world are you talking about? Why not just call it a demonic ball? And why is it even here? Things like this shouldn't exist—that's fantasy."
"Fantasy?" The old man's eyes narrowed. "Boy, you don't know what fantasy truly is. In this world, the Senegal Demon Ball has passed through generations upon generations, eventually finding its way to this store." He pointed a gnarled finger toward the establishment Sin had just exited.
"This artifact transcends your comprehension. Anyone who touches it experiences true agony as their body transforms, granting them tremendous powers."
"And people can just touch it?" Sin asked incredulously. "Any villain could become a tyrannical ruler, causing chaos and anarchy!"
The old man raised his cane, silencing Sin with the gesture. "You, my boy, were chosen by the ball. The ball chose you, Sin."
A chill ran down Sin's spine. "How do you know my name? I never introduced myself. Have you been stalking me?"
The elder smiled mysteriously. "You might be asking yourself, Sin, how I know your name. Well, I know you as—"
Before he could finish, a car swerved violently off the road, barreling toward them at frightening speed.
"Watch out!" Sin yelled, but his warning came too late.
The vehicle struck the old man with devastating force. His body crumpled to the ground—bones shattered, blood spewing from his mouth and every orifice. His eyes stared vacantly at the sky.
Sin bolted. He ran home without calling 911, his mind unable to process the horror he'd witnessed. This instinctual flight was his first genuine reaction to seeing an innocent person die before his eyes. Unlike his calm response to the death of someone who had tormented him, this random tragedy triggered pure panic.
He didn't know what he was running from, but his legs carried him swiftly away from the scene. Bursting through his apartment door, Sin gasped for breath, collapsing onto his couch. With trembling hands, he put away the bags of rice and stored the meat.n the
In After finishing his meal, Sin reclined on the couch with a satisfied smile. Tomorrow would test his newfound abilities—tomorrow he'd learn more about that mysterious ball he'd touched yesterday. Yet one problem nagged at him: the ball had vanished upon contact, seemingly gone forever.
"How will I ever find it again? Did it truly disappear?" Sin wondered, too exhausted and pained to puzzle it out completely. He searched his memory bank, replaying the moment in the store when he'd touched the ball and collapsed before witnessing its disappearance.
Rising from the couch, he mused, "Perhaps if I return to the store, I might locate it. It's not certain it vanished—maybe, just maybe, it's still there. And if it's gone, someone might have posted about similar objects online."
Sin prepared his dinner, cooking rice and meat. Two hours later, he finished the somewhat bland meal, his excitement about testing his strength overwhelming him.
"I know I promised to wait until tomorrow, but I simply can't contain myself," he said. "What should I punch without risking property damage? A tree will do."
He left his apartment building and ventured toward the nearby forest, selecting a particularly thick tree with sturdy bark. Drawing back his fist, Sin delivered a powerful blow. A small shockwave emanated from the impact point, leaving a substantial hole in the trunk, though the deeply-rooted tree remained standing. Sin smirked at his handiwork.
Unbeknownst to him, a figure lurked several meters away, recording everything. The stranger transmitted the footage to an undisclosed location.
"Let's see," the mysterious observer muttered, uploading the video to the internet with the caption: "Weak man suddenly gaining strength in one day."
Sin returned to his apartment oblivious, falling asleep on the couch while watching television. Within hours, the video had spread virally across the internet, spawning countless reposts and discussions. What Sin believed was his secret had become worldwide knowledge overnight.
As he slumbered peacefully, his phone began vibrating incessantly with notifications. Outside his apartment building, shadows gathered in the darkness, watching and waiting. Sin's extraordinary power had attracted attention—some curious, some dangerous, and some with motives beyond imagination. His life as an ordinary man had ended the moment he'd punched that tree, and the forces now converging on him would ensure he'd never be the same again.