The sky had already turned dark when Harry reached home. The street lamps flickered to life, casting long shadows on the empty sidewalk. His steps were slow, dragging, each one heavier than the last. He didn't feel like he was returning from school he felt like he was returning from a battlefield. His clothes were stained with dried dirt and sweat. The collar of his shirt was torn, and the faint bruise on his cheek pulsed with dull pain.
As he pushed open the front door, the house greeted him with silence.
"Harry?" his mother called from the kitchen, her voice soft, but laced with concern. "What happened in school? Why are you so late? I got a call from..."
But Harry didn't answer.
He didn't even look in her direction.
His eyes stayed low, locked on the floor as he walked past her shoulders stiff, fists clenched. He wasn't ready for the questions. He couldn't deal with the sympathy. Not now. Not tonight.
"Harry, I'm talking to you..."
But the door to his room shut behind him before she could finish.
Inside, his room felt colder than usual. He threw his bag to the corner, then stood in front of the mirror above his desk, breathing hard.
He looked like a mess hair disheveled, eyes swollen slightly from the impact, shirt collar still twisted from the fight. But it wasn't just the bruises that bothered him. It was the memory. That weird red panel. That voice in his head. That punch that didn't feel human.
"What the hell was that…" he whispered to himself.
And then it happened again.
A soft, humming glow erupted from nowhere, right in front of the mirror. A red holographic panel materialized, floating silently mid-air like a projected screen from a sci-fi movie.
The words were crisp and sharp:
[VisionOS Activated]
[Current Stat: Strength Level : 1]
Harry stumbled back slightly, heart thudding in his chest.
It wasn't his imagination. It wasn't just a shock from the fight. This thing whatever it was was real. Real enough to show itself again. Real enough to show those same words.
"Vision… OS?" he whispered, reading it aloud. "Is this some kind of… game?"
He looked down at his own fists. They didn't feel like anything special. Just hands. Bones. Skin. But something had changed. That punch when he hit Tyler.
Harry turned toward the wall, narrowing his eyes. He hesitated for a second, then took a slow step forward.
"I just need to know," he muttered.
He raised his right fist and slammed it into the wall.
CRACK!
A deep, fractured print exploded into the plaster. The shape of his knuckles was clearly visible in the spider-web cracks.
Harry stumbled back, staring wide-eyed at the wall. Pain shot up his wrist, but not the kind he expected. It didn't feel like broken bones. It felt like power.
"What the hell is happening to me…"
His legs gave out as he fell back onto the bed. The silence returned, wrapping around him like a cold blanket.
He lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.
His mind reeled with questions. The fight. The humiliation. The cheers from the crowd. Jessica's betrayal. The punch. The blood. That strange man injected the injection on Harry's neck in that accident dead of that unknown person. Something had changed since then. He could feel it.
And now this VisionOS.
A voice echoed again in his head. Not from the system. From inside his own memory.
"You're just a failure, Harry."
He shut his eyes tightly.
"Weak, pathetic."
But now he wasn't so sure anymore.
Was this his punishment? Or was this something else?
He didn't know the answer. Not yet.
But as his eyes drifted closed, sleep pulling him under the weight of the day's chaos, one thought clung to the back of his mind.
This time, maybe I won't stay weak.
The morning sunlight peeked through the dusty curtains of Harry's small room, casting soft golden lines on the floor. It was Saturday finally a weekend. No college. No judgmental eyes. No whispers behind his back. For once, he could just exist without pretending everything was okay.
Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. He sat up, groggy but strangely refreshed. But the first thing his gaze landed on wasn't the clock or the ceiling fan creaking above it was the wall.
More precisely, the crack mark shaped exactly like his fist from last night.
He stared at it in stunned silence. The wall was made of solid concrete, not some flimsy drywall. And yet, the imprint was clear deep, rough, almost surreal. For a second, he questioned himself. Did I really do that? He stood up slowly, walked to the wall, and pressed his palm over the crack. It matched perfectly.
Before he could think further, something glitched in the air in front of him.
A faint, buzzing hum.
Suddenly, a red holographic screen flickered to life in front of his face, floating mid-air like a projection from a sci-fi movie.
[VisionOS Activated]
[Strength Level: 1]
[To increase levels, you need to fight.]
Harry jumped back, heart racing. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the screen vanished again leaving only the silence of the room and his own heavy breathing.
He stood there for a long minute, unsure of what he had just seen. Was that real? Am I going crazy?
His mind rushed to last night the fight, the anger, that weird injection from the man who died in front of him. That wasn't a normal accident. And this… this wasn't normal either.
He stepped in front of the mirror. His reflection stared back still the same Harry, but… different.
His arms looked slightly more toned than before. His shoulders weren't slouched anymore. There was a certain alertness in his eyes, a strange spark.
He rolled up his sleeves. Definitely more muscle. Nothing drastic, but noticeable. He even flexed a little, smiling faintly at his own reflection. "Okay… weird. But kind of cool."
Still confused but with a tiny thread of excitement building in his chest, Harry dropped back onto his bed. Maybe this was just a dream. Maybe he'd wake up and laugh at himself for believing any of this.
He grabbed the remote, pointed it at the dusty old TV, and flipped through the channels. News. Reruns. Old sitcoms. Until something caught his attention.
A breaking news banner scrolled across the screen.
"Senior scientist William Carter of HumanOx Corporation was killed in a tragic car crash yesterday evening. Sources claim the car swerved violently before hitting a pole. Forensic teams have found unidentified bullet marks on the vehicle's door. Officials suspect foul play. HumanOx is currently not releasing further statements…"
Harry sat up, the remote slipping from his hand.
"William Carter…?" he whispered.
His heart pounded. That's him. The same man from the accident. The one who injected him with something before collapsing. The one whose eyes looked desperate like he was passing something on.
So it wasn't random. He wasn't hallucinating. That man… did something to him. The visions, the crack in the wall, the sudden strength—it all started after the injection.
His thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing vibration on his phone.
A text message.
Manager: "Deliver the pizza in 30 minutes or you're fired."
Harry groaned and tossed the phone on the bed. "Damn it."
He had almost forgotten it was the weekend. Which meant his part-time pizza delivery job. He only worked weekends, trying to scrape money together for his books, for food… and now, maybe, for answers.
He threw on his jeans and red hoodie, grabbed his worn-out sneakers, and dashed out the door. The streets were quiet except for the occasional honking of a rickety auto or a kid chasing a ball down the alley.
At the pizza shop, he didn't even wait for greetings. He grabbed the delivery bag, got on the company's rusty bike, and shot off toward the delivery address.
Twenty-seven minutes later, he arrived outside a tall apartment building, panting slightly.
He rang the bell. A man with a bald head and sunglasses opened the door.
"You're late," he said flatly.
"I… I got here in time..."
"You were supposed to be here in twenty-five minutes. Not twenty-seven." He snatched the pizza box. "I'm not paying for this crap."
"But sir..."
The door slammed in his face.
Harry stood there, fuming. It wasn't even his fault the bike barely worked, and he had to stop twice for directions. But rules were rules, and jerks like that customer didn't care.
He sighed and began walking, pushing the scooter by his side through a quiet lane. His thoughts returned to the injection, the hologram, the crack in his wall.
That's when he heard it footsteps.
Two teenagers one tall with a chain around his neck, the other chewing gum stepped out from behind a broken fence.
"Well well, look what we have here," Chain Guy said.
Gum Boy smirked. "Pizza boy with no tip, huh? Got any cash?"
Harry stepped back instinctively. "I don't want trouble. Just let me go."
But they were already moving closer. Chain Guy grabbed his collar, while the other reached for his pocket.
And in that moment something shifted inside him.
A wave of heat rushed through his chest, like adrenaline mixed with electricity. His vision blinked again for half a second with red light.
He didn't think. He just reacted.
He puch Chain Guy hard.
The bully flew through the air like a rag doll and slammed into a trash bin across the street. The metal dented with a loud clang.
Gum Boy's eyes went wide. Without a word, he turned and ran.
Harry stood frozen. Breathing hard.
What did I just do…?
But before he could process it, the holographic screen flickered again in the air.
[VisionOS Activated ]
[You have successfully defeated two persons in a fight]
[Strength Level: 2]
Harry stared at the screen, his pulse racing.
This wasn't a dream.
It was real.
And whatever was happening to him it was just getting started.