Mark learned one truth early on:
Power, when not understood, was nothing more than chaos.
After the incident at the event, life at the orphanage returned to its usual rhythm. The children resumed their games, the caretakers their duties. But for Mark, nothing was the same. Every quiet moment became an opportunity. Every empty space became a training ground.
Whenever no one was watching, he trained in the back yard of the orphanage. Small stones. Broken branches. Dust in the air.
He pushed.
He pulled.
He measured distance.
He felt reaction time.
When he used too much force, his head throbbed.
When he used too little, the effect nearly vanished.
There were limits—clear and undeniable ones.
His quirk did not respond to intent alone. It demanded focus. When his thoughts scattered, the force destabilized. When his breathing lost rhythm, control weakened. Realizing this, Mark stopped treating his quirk like a weapon and began treating it like a system.
He recorded everything in his mind.
At night, the system activated again and again.
[Daily Training Log Detected]
Push repetitions: +12
Pull repetitions: +14
Control efficiency: Increasing
That was when Mark realized something important.
System Points were not random.
The more consistent his training…
The more deliberate his effort…
The more points he gained.
Instead of recklessly pushing his limits, he built his own training regimen.
He woke before dawn, exercising while the orphanage still slept. Sit-ups, push-ups, long runs. Not until his muscles broke—but until they learned. Then came classes. The teachers noticed his focus, though they didn't understand its source.
Mark was quiet in class. He didn't memorize—he understood.
Occasionally, the system left brief messages.
[Physical endurance increased]
[Mental focus improving]
Years passed within that routine.
Five years.
By the time Mark turned ten, he was no longer an ordinary child. His body was visibly more developed than his peers'. His shoulders were broader, his posture balanced and steady. His white hair shone under the sun, and his blue eyes missed nothing.
His grades?
All A+.
Mathematics.
Science.
History.
Strategy.
In the orphanage's records, a new note appeared:
"Exceptional academic performance."
But Mark knew this was only the beginning.
He had learned the limits of his quirk.
He had begun to understand how the system worked.
The next step would be harder.
To break those limits.
And he was ready.