Well, he was a little disappointed that all of his source energy could only make him at most 200 times more powerful than a regular human.
Then again, he reminded himself that power wasn't purely about size or brute strength but rather about complexity.
For a pill that could turn a mortal into a superhuman, it was indeed complex in its own way.
Now that his plan of becoming a real-life Superman was complete, all that remained was testing his newfound abilities and getting used to the immense strength coursing through him.
The last thing he wanted was to lose control like he did in his bedroom—only this time, in public. That would spell nothing but trouble.
With his enhanced physique, Watts' xymic energy now recovered in six hours instead of eight—a small but satisfying victory.
Additionally, his energy source had doubled in capacity. If his reserves had been like a single apartment before, they now resembled two apartments joined together.
It almost felt too simple—just improve his physique, and voilà, his energy reserves improved alongside it. He needed to test this theory, just to be sure.
Watts could feel it: the energy within him moved more fluidly, as though a blockage had been cleared from a pipe.
The sensation was oddly comforting. The system chimed in, as if reading his thoughts.
[Physique encompasses every aspect of the body—strength, speed, defense, stamina, and more.
Previously, half of the energy used during creation was diverted to protect your body from exploding, as no mortal could withstand even Level 1 creation energy.
Now, with your enhanced physique, a little less than two-thirds of the energy is required for stabilization.]
"Phew," Watts muttered, swiping imaginary sweat from his forehead. The thought of his energy keeping him from blowing up until now sent a chill down his spine.
Ignorance really was bliss, wasn't it?
Was this what it meant to wield power beyond human comprehension? How close had he been to oblivion?
He took a shaky breath, determined to not let his fear overshadow his newfound strength.
Glancing at his smartwatch, he realized it was already 11:30 a.m. He had been out for nearly four hours.
Work hours had come and gone, and his boss was probably seething with rage.
Resigned, he grabbed his phone from the couch and dialed his boss. The call connected after just a few rings.
"Uh… hello?" Watts tested the waters cautiously, knowing full well how temperamental his boss could be.
"Jack? Well, isn't this a surprise," came the calm reply. "What is it?"
"Actually… I wasn't feeling well. I overslept and—"
"Don't worry about it," the boss interrupted. "You didn't look too great yesterday. Take all the time you need. You've always worked diligently, so I trust you. Just let me know when you're ready to come back."
Watts blinked in disbelief. No scolding? No tirade of expletives? Was this really his boss?
"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate your understanding," he said, still bewildered.
After a few more pleasantries, Watts hung up, only to notice nine missed calls from Pistil. Ah, right. The fight. He'd completely forgotten about it amidst everything that had happened.
He dialed Pistil's number, bracing himself for the tirade.
"What the hell, bro?" Pistil barked the moment he picked up. "Did you forget about The Jury? Have you gone stupid or something?"
"Relax, man. I ran into some complications," Watts replied evenly.
"Complications? What, did you knock up Chloe or something?"
"For the love of—she's eight years old!" Watts groaned, massaging his temples.
"Whatever. I don't care about your 'complications.' Just be here tonight and kick The Jury's ass. If you screw this up, I'll make sure you regret it."
"Relax. I'll be there. But careful, Pistil—I might just kick your ass while I'm at it."
"You'd better bring your A-game, then," Pistil shot back before hanging up, his tone equal parts challenge and concern.
Watts stared at his phone, shaking his head with a smile. Having a tsundere like Pistil for a best friend was both exhausting and amusing.
Stretching as he stood, Watts decided it was time to put his newfound strength to good use—and restock his groceries while he was at it. His stomach grumbled, a reminder of the empty fridge he'd raided the night before.
------------------------
By 3:12 p.m., Watts found himself at Han's Delicacy Restaurant, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming pace.
Hunger had clouded his thoughts, and eating felt like the only way to regain clarity.
At the gym, Watts pushed himself to the limit—or so he thought. Even with 1,000 kilograms on the bar, his body moved effortlessly, the weight feeling more like a warm-up.
He scanned the room nervously, conscious of curious glances from the other patrons. If anyone suspected the truth, things could get messy fast.
On consulting the system, he was informed:
[With a physique stat of 75.5, your strength, speed, flexibility, stamina, and defense are all 75 times greater than normal. Combined, this makes you an exceptional superhuman.]
Watts nearly screamed with excitement. The only thing that held him back was the need to conceal his power from the gym's other patrons.
Still, he managed to gain some control over his newfound strength during the session, which was a small but significant victory.
....
Meanwhile, in an unknown location, chaos brewed.
"Sir, we've detected a massive energy surge in Los Angeles," a slim man reported, his voice trembling.
"The readings are off the charts—like nothing we've ever seen. If this isn't contained, the fallout could..." He trailed off, his face pale as the superior's gaze hardened.
"It's beyond consistent with the awakening of a God-level superpower. Please advise."
The superior, a middle-aged man clad in black, narrowed his eyes. This wasn't just any surge; God-level superpowers were exceedingly rare, and their implications were staggering.
Now this isn't something you see every day.
First off, the government knows of the superpower incidents; they know of each and every one that awakens; they know of the bloodliners like the vampires they know all, or so they would like to think.
The governments, despite centuries of rivalry and distrust, had come together to form the Global Supernatural Oversight Council (GSOC).
The organization worked in secret, monitoring every superhuman awakening with meticulous precision, coordinating operations to recruit or eliminate potential threats.
For the first time in history, nations prioritized survival over sovereignty. This was since the first superpowered humans emerged 4000-years ago.
No one knows what led to this, but all the governments know that these people can be dangerous, and so as not to cause public panic, they erase every incident that involves super naturals; no civilian is aware that they might be neighbors with a godly being.
Second, the governments have their own super naturals, you can't fight a god without power of a god too.
God-level superpowers were a rare and terrifying phenomenon—so rare, in fact, that only four individuals in the world bore that title.
Each one had the power to reshape or destroy the earth, and even the combined efforts of global governments barely kept them in check.
The emergence of a fifth could tip the fragile balance, with catastrophic consequences.
"You know the protocol," the man in black said coldly.
"Recruitment or termination. A God-level power left unchecked is catastrophic. And remember, we aren't the only ones watching." he finished.
"I have to inform the council, cause this changes everything." he muttered as he slowly made his way out of the control room.