```
The sudden impact of the paper ball brought me out of my reverie. I looked up to see a little kid, no more than five, brandishing an imaginary sword, declaring himself a valiant knight.
His sister, a figure of serene beauty with long black hair, laughs off his statement. she chides gently, her gaze shifting to the protagonist. "Did it hurt?" she asks, concern lacing her voice.
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Umm, no, it's only paper. Why would it hurt?" I replied, trying to mask the turmoil inside with a bit of humor.
```
The sister's cheeks tinge with a soft blush, a little bit silent and embarrassed due to her unnecessary worry. "He usually puts small stones inside them," she says, a smile playing on her lips as she takes her brother's hand and they dart away, their laughter fading into the distance.
As Lucas watches them go, a smile unknowingly graces his face, a fleeting moment of joy in an otherwise somber day. But as quickly as it comes, it vanishes, replaced by a sobering thought that echoes in his mind: Reality is often disappointing.
----- Lucas's fingers trembled as he counted the remaining coins in his wallet. A mere **100 Yen**—a paltry sum that symbolized the threadbare state of his existence.
"This will be my last 100 Yen," I murmured to myself, the words heavy with resignation. I dropped the coin into the vending machine with a finality that seemed to echo in the empty street. The machine hummed to life, and I selected a few drinks, their cold cans clinking softly as they fell.
I sipped one as I walked, the liquid's chill a small comfort on my way home. The night was quiet, the world asleep, and I felt like the last person on earth.
As he trudged homeward, the city lights casting elongated shadows on the pavement, he wondered if this was the end of the line. The monotony of his days had become a relentless loop, each step a weary echo of the one before.
But then, in the dead of night, when the world slept and dreams stirred, at exactly 12 my phone jolted to life.
A notification? Now? I fumbled for the device, the screen's glow harsh against the dark. "Congratulations, you have been chosen by God to be the first person ever to become superhuman." I blinked. What? Confusion clouded my thoughts.
The words danced before his eyes, absurd and otherworldly. He blinked, rubbed his temples, and read it again. Was this some elaborate prank?
His fingers danced across the screen, unlocking the phone with practiced ease. And there it was—a gray icon, innocuous yet magnetic.
It was simple yet somehow compelling. It didn't look like anything I'd ever downloaded.
With a mix of skepticism and curiosity, I tapped the icon, half-expecting it to be a prank. But as the app opened, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life was about to change in ways I couldn't even begin to imagine.
The app's name was a jumble of letters, a secret code whispered by the digital ether. Without hesitation, he tapped it, and the screen flickered to life.
What awaited him within those lines of code? Power? Purpose? Or perhaps a cruel twist of fate? As the app loaded, he felt the weight of destiny settle upon his shoulders. Reality had just taken a sharp left turn, and he was hurtling down a path he couldn't comprehend.
The boy who once dreamed of laughter and control now stood at the precipice of something far greater. The superhuman—the very concept seemed ludicrous, yet here he was, poised to rewrite the rules of existence. His heart raced, fear and anticipation warring within him.
For in that gray icon lay the promise of transformation.
```
Lucas's skepticism couldn't stifle the curiosity that the app's claim ignited within him. The interface was simple, almost too simple, with its solitary button and the directive to 'watch ad.' A chuckle escaped him, a sound tinged with disbelief. "So this was just a prank," he mused, yet his finger tapped the screen, drawn by an invisible thread of hope.
The ad that unfolded was a spectacle of power and ennui. A character with hair as dichotomous as his own existence — black and white — fought with a prowess that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
The monsters before him stood no chance; they were obliterated with each casual punch, their demise marked by explosions that lit up the screen.
Yet, the person's face was etched with boredom, a stark reminder of the emptiness that even such power could bring.
As the ad faded, the gray interface returned, its words now promising the impossible. "Randomly selecting ability from that character as permanent ability as a gift pack due to being the first time the user has used this app.
" And then, the revelation: **Limitless**. The ability to grow stronger without bounds, to push past every ceiling with nothing but sheer will and effort.
Lucas's heart skipped a beat. Was this the answer to his prayers or just another digital mirage? The promise of limitless growth was a siren's call, one that spoke to the very core of his being.
It was the dream of his childhood, the ambition of his youth, now offered to him on a digital platter.
Could it be real? Or was it merely the universe's way of mocking him, of showing him what he could never have? There was only one way to find out.
With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, he accepted the gift, the word 'Limitless' echoing in his mind like a mantra for the journey ahead.
The screams shattered the night, pulling me from my thoughts. I crept to the corner of the building and peered around it. My heart sank. There, in the dim light, was a group of people, their intentions clear and cruel. They were tormenting four children—three boys and a girl. The girl... she was familiar. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.
Among them, a girl stood out, her features strikingly familiar. It dawned on him; he had seen her before, a fleeting moment of innocence under the cherry blossoms.
The thugs' demands for ransom were clear, their threats chilling. His mind screamed for him to walk away, But something deeper, a certain intuition, urged him to fight, to experience that feeling of being undefeated.
The cold steel of the knife pressed against my throat, a stark reminder of the reality I had stumbled into. "Don't move," the man behind me hissed, guiding me toward the group with a firm grip. "We found a witness," he announced. The boss, considered me with a calculating gaze. "Rob him and silence him," he ordered.
Adrenaline surged through me, a wild, desperate energy. I couldn't go down without a fight. In one swift motion, I stomped on the man's toes, eliciting a grunt of pain. My hand shot up, seizing his wrist, and with all the force I could muster, I drove my elbow into his stomach. He crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.
The boss sighed, as if inconvenienced by a minor setback. "Gang up on him," he commanded, and they did. I fought with a ferocity I didn't know I had, taking down two more before I felt the crushing blow of a bat against my back. My arms were seized, held back by strong hands, and for a moment, I thought it was over.
But it wasn't—not yet. The fight was still in me, and I wasn't about to let it go out without a blaze.
A chaotic fight ensued. Lucas fueled by the adrenaline within him, dispatched two more assailants again with a flurry of precise movements. But numbers were against him, and as arms held him fast, the blunt force of a bat struck him yet again, sending waves of pain coursing through his body.