Adam : From a man to a God

"Sorry, just had a nightmare," Adam murmured, the words escaping his lips like a sigh from the depths of his restless mind. His gaze drifted to the rearview mirror, and he caught a glimpse of Tilda's concerned expression reflected back at him, a flickering light in the dense shadow of his thoughts.

"The relic again? Another personality taking over?" she inquired, her voice steady yet laced with an empathetic edge that wrapped around him like a comforting blanket.

"Yeah, but it won't happen again. I talked to him. I mean, you probably won’t get it." He leaned back against the cool leather of the seat, frustration simmering beneath his surface. The air inside the car felt thick, as if the weight of his words hung heavy between them.

"Out of everyone in this world, I reckon I understand your predicament better than most," Tilda whispered, her eyes narrowing in understanding, a glimmer of shared experience flickering beneath the surface. She leaned forward slightly, her presence grounding him amid the chaos swirling in his mind.

"How did I end up here?" Adam’s voice wavered, tinged with confusion and a hint of desperation.

"The teachers thought about taking you to a hospital, but you surprisingly started healing," Tilda explained, her tone reassuring, wrapping around him like a warm embrace amid the cold reality of their situation.

"Ah," he acknowledged, the simple sound escaping him like a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The fog of his thoughts slowly began to clear as he pieced together bits of recent events, fragments of the lesson about power holders and their complex healing processes drifting through his mind.

"So they put me in your car?" Adam replied, incredulity creeping into his voice as he realized the weight of the situation.

"Yep," Tilda nodded, a small smile breaking through the tension, illuminating the dim confines of the vehicle. "I'm supposed to drive you home. Get in the front seat."

Feeling a bit drained, Tilda sighed softly, running a hand through her hair. "First day can be tough. Hard to believe it all happened on your debut," she remarked, a note of disbelief threading through her words as if she were still trying to wrap her mind around the whirlwind of events.

"Yeah, I—wait, what did you mean by understanding my situation?" Adam asked, a spark of curiosity igniting within him. There was something in her tone that hinted at buried experiences, secrets just out of reach.

"Another time," Tilda deflected lightly, but the flicker in her eyes suggested a deeper well of knowledge that intrigued him.

“Why not now?” Adam wondered to himself, a mix of impatience and eagerness churning in his stomach.

"Relics can trigger multiple personalities in people, but it's rare—like 1 in a hundred power holders," Tilda explained, her voice steady as if she had recited it many times before. "To banish those personalities, you need someone with powers from the goddess Mior, or you can meditate and communicate with your other self. Sometimes that works." Each word held a weight of its own, echoing the complexity of their world and the struggles entwined within it.

"Talked to him. He's gone," Adam revealed, a flicker of relief crossing his face, the remnants of his nightmare drifting away like smoke caught in the wind.

"Excellent. A power boost usually follows," Tilda replied, her eyes brightening with an almost palpable excitement, as if the thought of his potential sparked something within her.

"He mentioned that too," Adam added, a hint of disbelief coloring his voice. The realization felt surreal, like standing on the edge of an unknown precipice, grasping at a future he could hardly imagine.

"Huh..." Tilda pondered, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbed this newfound information.

Silence enveloped them as the car glided through the shadows, the hum of the engine the only sound breaking the stillness as they journeyed back to the mansion. The world outside zipped by, trees and streetlights blending into a blur, each moment a reminder of the chaos that had become a part of Adam’s reality.

"Might seem overwhelming now, but you'll adjust," Tilda said, her voice slicing through the quiet like a beacon of reassurance. "Tomorrow, no academy. Twice a week for you." There was a soothing quality to her words, as if she understood the tempest swirling within him.

"Really? What am I doing the rest of the time?" Adam asked, a flicker of curiosity igniting within him. The thought of having time to breathe, to explore, felt like a precious glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

"We can watch the dorm tournaments? Go to amusement parks. The zoo, museums. There’s a lot we can do," Tilda suggested, her enthusiasm simmering just below the surface. The weight of her words painted the world outside with vibrant possibilities, brightening the dark horizon of his daunting new life.

"Dorm tournaments?" Adam questioned, intrigued yet uncertain.

"Yeah, it's when different power holders, those with all sorts of powers, compete in battles," Tilda explained, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "You can register to compete if you want to." The thought of facing off against others—a blend of thrilling and terrifying—settled into his mind.

"No, I'm okay," Adam declined, the idea of combat still feeling distant, like a game he wasn't ready to play.

As they arrived, the mansion loomed before them, grand and imposing, and Adam stepped out of the car, the cool air wrapping around him like a welcoming embrace. "I forgot how big this house is," he remarked, gazing up at the sprawling structure, memories of the one that had once exploded in Centerhill flooding his mind. It felt both familiar and alien, a juxtaposition of comfort and caution.

He turned to "Hey, can you show me around the city tomorrow?" The request hung in the air, infused with the hope of forging a connection amidst the uncertainty of his new life. "Sure. I have nothing on my schedule tomorrow," Tilda agreed, her voice brightening with the prospect of a new adventure.

"Bye," Adam said, the word tinged with a bittersweet note, as if he feared the solitude that would settle in after she left.

"Bye, see you tomorrow," Tilda replied.

There was an unspoken connection forming between them, a thread of camaraderie that felt precious in the midst of the chaos surrounding Adam’s life.

As she drove off, Adam suddenly realized he had forgotten to lock the house, an oversight that nagged at him as he made his way inside. The familiar creak of the door echoed in the stillness, a reminder of the sanctuary this place was supposed to provide.

Entering his room, he tossed himself onto the bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief against his skin. His gaze fell on the ceiling, lost in a sea of thoughts that swirled around him like leaves caught in a gust of wind.

"Huh... Didn't notice that digital watch on top of the door. It's four thirty-five," Adam observed, letting the mundane realization anchor him for a moment. Yet, his mind drifted to Anna, the memories flickering like fireflies in the dusk of his thoughts. "I wonder how Anna is doing. She might have been a bitch, but we grew up together." A wave of nostalgia washed over him, mingling with the weight of past grievances. “What am I thinking?”he chastised himself, recalling the way they had always treated him. But then, a pang of guilt flickered through his mind. “I don’t think Brock deserved death though... (Sigh... )Dorm tournaments.”

Feeling as if a century had passed, he decided, "I need to take a shower and eat." The simple act of nourishment felt like a balm to his frayed nerves, a practical step toward regaining some control amid the chaos swirling within.

With that thought hanging in the air, he drifted off to sleep, surrendering to the embrace of an uncertain night.

*Meanwhile in Atlas City…*

In a grand and opulent room, draped in rich velvet and adorned with golden accents, a man in his forties dined at an imposing long table that stretched across the room like a ruler surveying his domain. The flickering candlelight danced on the polished surface, casting long shadows that mirrored the tension in the air.

Suddenly, a woman dressed in sleek black entered, her movements graceful and deliberate. She knelt on one knee, the floor cold beneath her as she bowed her head. "Father, we can't find him. We think the Black Dragons took him, or he is at DMR," she reported, her voice steady but laced with urgency.

The man paused only briefly, continuing to cut through the succulent meat on his plate, unfazed by her grave news. His eyes, sharp and calculating, remained fixed on his meal as if the situation required little more than a moment’s consideration.

"I shall inform our spy to report to us if they have him—" The woman’s hair began to shimmer and shift, turning a stark white, while deep-seated wrinkles crept across her once-youthful face.

"Find him no matter what," the man commanded, his tone clipped and authoritative, like a blade slicing through the murmurs of the room.

At the weight of the father's words, the woman’s hair once again returned to a glossy blonde, and the wrinkles etched into her skin vanished as if they had never been.

"Yes, father," she affirmed, resolve settling in her voice, the flicker of desperation now replaced with determination.

"No one can escape my daughters of death," the man thought to himself, the words a sinister promise that hung in the air, echoing the strength and reach of his influence.

*DMR*

Meanwhile, in a stark contrast to the dimly lit grandeur of his room, Adam woke up to the insistent sound of his ringing phone, the shrill tone cutting through the remnants of his sleep. Blinking against the bright light of the screen, he glanced at the device they had given him, noticing "Tilda" displayed as the contact name—a beacon of normalcy amid the chaos swirling in his life.

He took a deep breath and answered the call, his voice a blend of sleepiness and anticipation. "Hello?" Adam greeted. "Hi. What time should I come pick you up?" Tilda asked, her voice sunny and bright, cutting through the morning haze.

Checking the time on his watch, which read 8:47 in the morning, Adam considered his response. "10 am is fine." The thought of the day ahead sent a ripple of anticipation through him, strange but exciting.

"Okay. I'll see you later then," Tilda confirmed.

"Yeah, see you later," Adam echoed, but as the phone call ended and silence filled the room. He swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Getting out of bed, he headed for a shower, the cascading water washing away the remnants of sleep and doubt. When he returned, a towel wrapped around his waist, he decided, "I should change."

Opening the dresser, he sifted through his clothes, selecting a crisp white t-shirt that felt fresh against his skin, paired with fitted blue trousers that hugged his frame comfortably. He added a blue jersey with a zipper, and finally, he pulled on a cozy hoodie, the fabric soft and worn—a little piece of comfort in the midst of the unknown. After slipping into different shoes, he glanced at his watch again.

"It's half past nine. Still some time," he mused aloud, feeling an urge to do something more than wait. His mind drifted to a lingering curiosity: “I wonder how my clothes don't get burned when I'm on fire.* The question had nagged at him since moments of fiery chaos had first invaded his life, and he resolved to finally test that theory.

Deciding to venture into the backyard, he quietly opened the door and stepped outside. The morning air was crisp and invigorating, a gentle breeze ruffling his hair. He took a deep breath, letting the fresh atmosphere settle in as he focused on the space around him—a haven lined with the remnants of nature's beauty, untouched and serene.

He prepared to explore the boundaries of his powers, curiosity igniting a spark within him. Adam focused his mind, shutting his eyes as he lifted his hand forward, tuning into the energy surging from his chest. It felt electric, alive, as a small spark began to twinkle at his palm. With concentration and a hint of exhilaration, he guided the warmth until it blossomed into a swirling fireball—a vibrant orb of energy dancing on the cusp of his fingertips.

Excitement bubbled within him, and he couldn’t help but exclaim, "Wow, I can't believe it actually wor—Whoa!"

In his eagerness, he accidentally released the fireball, watching helplessly as it flew from his hand and struck a nearby tree with an explosive crack, a hail of sparks showering the ground. The impact sent a shock of adrenaline coursing through him.

Racing towards the rapidly growing flames, panic gripped Adam’s heart. "Oh no. Why did I do that? I'm already starting a fire, and it's only been two weeks since I got here." The reality of the situation washed over him, and he felt the weight of responsibility settle heavily on his shoulders.

But then, just as quickly as they had ignited, the flames vanished, leaving behind bewilderment in their wake. "Huh? What the?" he wondered aloud, blinking in disbelief as the remnants of the fire danced away like ghosts in the breeze.

The sound of a car approaching pulled him from his confusion. Adam's instincts kicked in, and before he could fully process it, he sprinted towards the front yard at an astonishing speed, his feet barely touching the ground as he rushed forward. "Am I faster than before?" he marveled, joy rising in his chest, the thrill of newfound abilities electrifying him.

As he reached the front yard, Tilda stepped out of the car, her expression a mixture of shock and admiration as she took in the sight of him. "Wow, Adam! You look… different!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise. The unexpected excitement of their encounter washed over him, and he grinned, feeling the thrill of possibility swelling beneath the surface.

"Hey," Adam replied, his voice carrying a note of warmth as he thought, ”Wow, she always looks so beautiful.“ Tilda had a way of lighting up the world around her, and in this moment, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of admiration.

"Are you ready?" Tilda inquired, her enthusiasm infectious.

"Yeah, let me just lock the door," Adam answered, ensuring the door clicked shut securely behind him before slipping into the passenger seat of her car.

As he settled in, Tilda and Adam locked eyes simultaneously, a brief but electric moment. Tilda’s gaze shimmered with a fleeting golden hue, a spark of something deeper flickering in the depths of her eyes before it vanished, returning to the familiar warmth he had come to recognize. She swiftly directed her attention to the windshield, prompting Adam to do the same, the energy of the moment lingering in the air.

Moments later, Tilda navigated through the bustling city streets, the rhythm of urban life swirling around them like a vibrant tapestry. The sounds of honking horns and distant chatter filled the air, creating a backdrop that felt both exhilarating and overwhelming.

"The city always seems half-deserted. Why is that?" Adam inquired, curiosity bubbling up as he took in the surroundings—the buildings standing tall yet strangely empty, like sentinels witnessing the quiet hustle.

"That's the way it appears when there are so few of us here," Tilda explained, her gaze focused ahead, yet Adam could sense a hint of something beneath her words, a deeper story lurking just out of reach.

"Ah, I see," Adam acknowledged, nodding as he absorbed her explanation. The city felt like a paradox—bustling with life, yet strangely isolated.

As they drove further, Tilda pointed ahead. "There's the museum. Care to visit?"

"Sure, I've never been to one before," Adam replied, excitement bubbling up within him. The idea of exploring new realms of knowledge and art was thrilling, marking a departure from the chaos of his recent experiences.

"Excellent, let’s explore!" Tilda exclaimed, her enthusiasm radiating through the air as they parked and stepped out of the car, the grand facade of the museum looming before them like a portal to another world.

Stepping into the museum, Adam felt a rush of cool air envelop him, contrasting sharply with the warmth of the sun outside. The atmosphere buzzed with a quiet reverence, the kind that invited whispers and secrets from ages past. The expansive lobby stretched ahead, adorned with intricate murals that depicted grand tales of power holders and legendary battles.

“So, this museum is basically the Atlas City one, just with a few changes?” Adam asked, glancing around in awe, his eyes tracing the delicate arches and high ceilings, marveling at the artistry that surrounded them.

As Adam and Tilda wandered deeper into the museum, they entered a spacious hall filled with ancient relics, each infused with echoes of a long-lost time. The air was tinged with a sense of reverence, and the soft lighting illuminated the intricate details of the artifacts on display.

“Check this out,” Tilda said, pointing to a stunning chalice resting on a pedestal. Its surface gleamed with an otherworldly luster, the vines etched into the metal a testament to its divine origins. “This chalice was used by one of the gods during sacred rituals. If anyone touches it, it will incinerate, turning to ash and merging with them, transforming an ordinary person into a power holder.”

Adam stepped closer, the implications sinking in. “So, just by touching it, a person could gain incredible power—at the cost of losing that artifact forever?”

“Exactly,” Tilda confirmed, her eyes serious. “And for us, as current power holders, it’s much more perilous. If we were to touch it, it would also turn to ash, but the sheer energy would overwhelm our bodies, killing us instantly.”

“Wow,” Adam said softly, stepping back to absorb the weight of her words. “It’s like these objects hold life-altering power, but come with a price—a price that could mean losing your life if you're not careful. Or even if you are.”

“Right,” Tilda agreed, moving on to another display featuring a pair of ornate daggers. “These were used by the gods in ceremonial battles. The same rules apply: anyone who touches these daggers would find them turn to ash and gain immense power. For us, it would mean death.”

Adam regarded the daggers thoughtfully, a sense of awe mixed with fear washing over him. “It's incredible how one moment of contact could change everything—grant someone a new existence while destroying a piece of history.”

“Exactly,” Tilda responded, her eyes brightening as she moved to the next exhibit.

“It’s almost like the relics don’t just represent history; they embody the very essence of what it means to wield power,” Adam said, feeling increasingly reflective. “With great power... comes great risk.”

“Absolutely," Tilda replied, her expression serious. "Each artifact is imbued with the significance of the gods who used them, demonstrating both the wonder and weight of their legacies.”

They continued through the exhibit, each artifact telling a story of its own—a reminder of the gods and the choices that shaped their world. The relics became a backdrop for their thoughts, a tapestry of knowledge that forged a deeper connection between them.

After spending time absorbing the gravity of the history around them, Tilda finally turned to Adam with a smile. “So, what do you think? Ready to leave all this incredible history behind for a little while and tackle the day?”

Adam grinned back, feeling lighter despite the somber revelations. “Absolutely. I think I’ve had enough ancient artifacts for one day.”

With that shared understanding, they made their way to the exit, stepping out of the museum and into the vibrant world. Once seated at a cozy booth in the bustling restaurant, the rich aromas of comfort food wafted through the air. A server appeared, taking their orders with a friendly smile, and soon they found themselves sharing a heaping plate of chips and crispy burgers.

As Adam took a bite of his burger, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. “You know, I used to love burgers, but I hardly ever got to eat them back home. I could only afford hot dogs,” he confessed, a hint of wistfulness in his tone. “It was such a treat for me when I did get one.”

Tilda smiled softly, chewing on a chip. “It’s nice to indulge once in a while, isn’t it?

Adam nodded, his expression shifting as he thought back. “You know, after I got my powers, things changed dramatically. There was this one time in the forest... I was being chased by an assassin. I didn’t even know I could fight; I was just trying to survive.” He paused, his hands tense on the table, memories flooding back. “I ended up killing her. It was all so sudden. I didn’t want to do it. I just reacted.”

Tilda’s eyes softened, her heart aching for him. For a brief moment, however, a flicker of a troubled expression crossed her face, a shadow slipping through her carefully composed demeanor. It was a brief flash, but it revealed the weight of her own unspoken experiences, the echoes of past choices that haunted her.

“Sometimes, that’s just how power holders are,” she replied gently, masking her brief moment of vulnerability. “When you’re pushed to your limits, your body and instincts take over. It can change you in ways you never expected.”

Adam looked down, guilt etched across his features. “I still feel so bad about it. She wasn’t just some monster. She had a life, a story. I... I never wanted to become that kind of person.” His voice cracked with emotion, the weight of his actions heavy on his conscience.

Tilda leaned forward slightly, her expression remaining encouraging. “You’re not defined by that moment, Adam. Everyone makes mistakes, but it’s how we learn and grow from them that matters. You’re trying to understand yourself now, and that’s a big part of who you are.”

He felt a flicker of comfort at her words, yet the guilt lingered like a shadow. “I know, but it doesn’t get easier to live with. After that, I was so lost. I ran from the forest, searching for food and water since I hadn’t eaten in nearly two days. That’s when I stumbled upon that building… I thought perhaps it housed something more.”

Tilda nodded, sensing the weight of his words. “And that’s how you found me at the auction, wasn’t it?” she prompted gently, encouraging him to continue.

“Yeah. I saw you there, about to be sold like…like a piece of property.” His voice hardened slightly, frustration creeping in. “I didn’t know what I was getting into, but I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

Tilda smiled, a touch of gratitude filling her gaze. “You came for me when I was lost. It’s incredible how our paths crossed like that, isn’t it?”

Adam returned her smile, the mood slowly lightening as he reflected on their shared history. “Yeah, it is. And I’m glad I found you that day.”

With that comforting thought lingering between them, they finished their meal, connecting over light banter and laughter, both of them finding solace in each other’s company. As they prepared to leave the restaurant, Adam felt a sense of warmth blossoming within him, ignited by the shared understanding of their trials.

After driving for what felt like an eternity, Tilda finally pulled into the parking lot of the amusement park. The vibrant entrance loomed ahead, colors bursting forth like fireworks against the clear blue sky. Sounds of laughter and excitement floated on the air, making Adam’s heart race with anticipation.

“Here we are!” Tilda beamed, her eyes sparkling as she parked the car and turned off the engine. “Ready to unleash your inner child?”

“Definitely!” Adam replied, a smile spreading across his face. He felt light and carefree, the weight of his earlier worries slowly drifting away, replaced by the thrill of the day ahead.

As they made their way through the park, they stumbled upon a ring toss game. Tilda, with her competitive spirit shining, insisted they try their luck. “Watch this!” she challenged, stepping up to the booth. With deft precision, she tossed the rings one by one, each landing perfectly on the bottles to the raucous cheers of the onlookers. To Adam’s astonishment, she seemed to hit every shot, her face lit up with a mix of concentration and joy.

“Wow, you’re amazing at this!” Adam exclaimed, clapping as Tilda completed her winning streak.

“Just a little practice,” she shrugged modestly, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. They collected their prizes—stuffed animals and playful trinkets—adding to their sense of victory.

“Alright, next up!” Tilda said, her eyes dancing with excitement as she led Adam to a game with a large metal hammer and a bell high up on a post. “This is the strength tester! Let’s see who can hit the bell.”

Adam picked up the hammer, feeling its weight. “Whoa, this thing’s kinda heavy,” he said with a frown, eyeing the bell skeptically.

“Just to make it fair for us power holders,” Tilda replied with a grin, her playful tone lightening the moment. “You’ve got this! Show me what you’ve got.”

With determination, Adam gripped the hammer, channeling his energy. He focused for a moment, feeling the warmth swell within him. As he swung the hammer down, his eyes glowed with a faint orange hue, the power coursing through him amplifying his strength. The hammer struck with a resounding thud, hitting the pad with impressive force that sent the indicator soaring to the top, ringing triumphantly against the bell.

“Nice job!” Tilda cheered, her expression a mix of surprise and pride.

“Thanks!” Adam said, exhilarated.

Then Tilda stepped up, a determined look on her face. She picked up the hammer, swinging it with all her might. However, the result was underwhelming—the indicator barely budged, falling short of the bell.

“Oh no,” Tilda muttered, embarrassment creeping into her cheeks as she set down the hammer. “That’s not what I expected.”

Adam observed her reaction, a frown knitting his brow. “Wait a minute,”he thought, a strand of confusion weaving through his mind. “Tilda’s a third-year here—how is she weak?* ”

But he kept the question to himself, not wanting to pry. Instead, he offered a comforting smile. “It’s okay. At least you beat me at the ring toss!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tilda laughed, a little shyly, the tension of the moment dissipating. Their playful camaraderie settled back in, and they continued to enjoy their day at the amusement park, the sounds of laughter and the thrill of the games drawing them further into the joy of each other’s company.

Tilda led him on a comprehensive tour of the amusement park, showing him various attractions, games, and vibrant stalls filled with tempting snacks. By the time they returned to the car, Adam felt a surge of excitement blooming within him.

“Thanks for showing me around. This place is awesome. I feel like I know my way around now,” Adam expressed his gratitude, his face lit up by a smile that reflected his newfound joy.

“You're welcome,” Tilda replied, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction at his enthusiasm.

As they settled into the car, Adam’s thoughts wandered. “Oh, there’s one spot we haven’t visited yet,” he recalled suddenly.

“What’s that?” Tilda inquired, her curiosity piqued as she adjusted her seatbelt.

“You mentioned something about dorm tournaments,” Adam reminded her, a hint of eagerness in his voice. The notion of the tournaments had lingered in the back of his mind, and he wanted to know more.

“Yes... Let’s go,” Tilda agreed, her eyes glinting with interest as she started the engine.

As they drove through the city, Adam reflected on his first day at the academy. “My first day at the academy was far from pleasant. I didn’t know what to expect, and things escalated quickly.”

“I heard about the fight in your final class,” Tilda probed, her voice steady but laced with concern. “What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, Adam recounted the incident.

Tilda’s expression turned grave, her brow furrowing. “Wait, he called himself ‘Killer Adam’?"

Adam nodded. “Yeah…”

Adam continued his narrative, his voice laced with lingering tension. “And then he started saying things that just—”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Tilda interrupted softly, her eyes sympathetic as they darted to him. Her compassion was palpable, and it provided a small comfort against the weight of his memories.

Curious about her own experiences, Adam pivoted the conversation. “How was your first day as a first-year at the academy?” he asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

“I was nervous and—” Tilda's sentence trailed off as they arrived at a colossal stadium, imposing and grand against the skyline.

“Woah... Why didn’t I notice that earlier?” Adam marveled, the sheer size of the structure taking his breath away. Its towering walls seemed to echo with the shouts and cheers of countless battles fought within.

Tilda parked the car, excitement bubbling between them. But just as Adam was about to step out, his expression changed dramatically. “Oh, no,” he exclaimed, panic flaring.

“What’s wrong?” Tilda inquired, concern creeping into her voice.

A sleek Range Rover pulled up beside them, the engine rumbling ominously as the driver’s gaze locked onto Adam. It was Alex—his presence instantly igniting a wave of anxiety in Adam.

“It’s Alex,” Adam disclosed, his voice barely above a whisper as tension coiled in his stomach.

“Who?” Tilda questioned, her curiosity piqued even further, unaware of the storm brewing between Adam and the stranger about to step into their day.