**Name:** Kris Wu
**Age:** 25
**Missions Survived:** 1
**Exchange Points:** 15,500 pts + Rank B reward + Upgrade Certificate (3/3)
**Stats:**
- Intelligence: 191 (+10)
- Mental Capacity: 100 (+20)
- Cell Vitality: 99 (+10 +20)
- Reaction Speed: 107 (+30)
- Muscle Density: 117 (+30)
- Immunization Strength: 105 (+50 +10)
**Exchange Categories:**
1. Sci-fi Weapons: None
2. Magical Items: None
3. Support Items: None
4. Entertainment: None
---
I walked as if I were on the plank of a ship, uncertain of the next step but knowing I had to take it.
I made my way toward the bed I'd just made and plopped down on the edge.
Regulating my breathing, I calmed myself and began sorting through the jumble of memories. Some were foreign; others felt like they belonged to me.
---
The memories of Lou Feng unfolded like an old film, each frame capturing a calm, calculated existence. Lou's life was measured, each moment deliberate. He was the kind of guy who didn't need to say much for people to feel his presence. In Hong Kong, he moved through the underground racing circuit with a quiet intensity—never the loudest, never the flashiest, just someone who got the job done without a fuss. He had an unspoken reputation that kept the wrong kind of attention away and brought the right kind closer, always with that natural, effortless magnetism.
Lou had set up shop in the heart of the city's underworld, where he ran a chop shop that felt more like a sanctuary than a garage. Cars came in damaged or stolen, their stories visible in the dents and scratches, and he'd work late nights, restoring or transforming them into something new. Every vehicle he touched bore his careful handiwork, from sleek exteriors to intricate engines.
Racing was Lou's way of life, though he rarely joined the loud, chaotic gatherings. Instead, he sought out the quieter races under the cover of night—fast, fluid, and dangerous. Here, Lou could disappear into the thrill of the road, trusting his instincts as he wove through obstacles, feeling the perfect harmony of man and machine. He rarely spoke, but on the track, there was no need for words. People respected him, some even admired him, but he stayed distant, always keeping his cards close.
Lou lived by his own rules, a man who knew where he fit in the world but never let it define him. Those who glimpsed his story would find traces of a past steeped in risk and rebellion, jobs pulled for survival, and a loyalty that only extended as far as respect allowed. For Lou, life was simple—a blend of challenges he either embraced or ignored entirely.
Then there were the memories of a boy, far removed from that chaotic world. Days spent alone with Lego sets, each one a new challenge that my parents sent with little notes, nudging me to think creatively, to solve problems. They believed these toys would shape my mind, keep me sharp in ways that mattered, even from a distance.
Alongside the Legos, there was Dungeons & Dragons—my favorite gift. The adventure kits were my way into other worlds. With each new session, I'd slip into a character, acting out the role and solving problems, navigating challenges from behind a carefully crafted mask.
By sixth grade, my parents realized I was… different. And I did, too. My mind buzzed with patterns and ideas, pieces fitting together like a living puzzle. People fascinated me, but always with a layer of separation. I saw them as if from a distance, almost the way a scientist studies behavior—detached yet deeply curious. I watched their moves, catalogued their expressions, analyzed reactions. Just like in D&D, I was role-playing, learning what fit and what didn't. Eventually, I got so good at blending in that I could become someone almost invisible, someone just "normal" enough to pass through without a second glance.
These memories filled my mind slowly, like water in a strange, shifting cup. And finally, it all clicked.
I inhaled and exhaled, feeling as if I were standing on top of a mountain, taking in a breathtaking view. The stress, the tension—everything just drifted away.
The mask I'd been wearing since waking up, crafted from smiles and careless jokes, slipped off without a second thought. It wasn't painful. More like removing a pair of shoes that had been too tight for too long. I didn't need to pretend to be "normal" anymore. I didn't need to impress anyone or care about their approval. The old me—the one who hid behind fake cheerfulness—wasn't needed anymore.
Now? I had options. No boundaries. No rules. Just endless possibilities. I could make my own way through this place, and I didn't have to apologize for it.
I stood before the mirror, staring at my reflection. No mask. No act. Just me. It didn't feel like freedom exactly, but it was close. A chance to shape things my way. I didn't know where this road would lead, but it was mine to walk. I didn't need to fit anyone else's mold. I didn't have to play the role of the "okay guy" anymore.
And that realization? It hit hard. In this world, it didn't matter if I wasn't what people expected me to be. I could be whoever I wanted.
---
The first thing I did after sitting on the bed was check my suspicions. I was right—the ball of light was accessible from our rooms. As for my current stats, they weren't exactly what I expected. I knew I was smart, but being nearly twice as intelligent as the average person? That was a surprise. If 100 points was the baseline, the rest of my stats made sense, especially my cell vitality, given that I'd been sickly as a child. I'd spent so many years staying home because of it.
But where did these 10,000 points come from? Could it be from saving Rain? Did she survive? Why hadn't I gotten a notification about it? Was this related to the grainy display from my watch?
More questions for later, I thought. For now, I needed to focus on surviving the next movie. The next movie on the list was *Alien 1*—facehuggers, chestbursters, small xenomorphs. They had acid blood, deadly stalking skills, but I wasn't too worried. What scared me more was the mission after: *The Grudge*. It's one of the hardest missions we'll face. I'd need to prepare for the supernatural. Becoming a Spirit Reaper or Quincy would be ideal, but both had hefty requirements. Time. Time was what I needed to master these powers. Against a Ju-on? That was going to be a tough fight.
The technology route might work, but I needed to understand what a Ju-on—a spirit from *The Grudge*—really was. Mutations or genetic enhancements could provide strength, but too many changes too quickly would be a waste. Once again, time was the factor. So, items would be key. But I couldn't rely on them too much. They could be taken away by the system at any moment.
At the end of the day, these powers weren't mine yet. They were external. The system could take them away whenever it pleased unless I truly *owned* them. Which brought me back to square one. When I first read this novel, I was hooked by the idea of gaining abilities, items, and powers from movies and anime. But now, I had to figure out the best way to start. What would be the best initial ability or item to maximize my chances within God's dimension and survive the next movie?
That's when I thought of *Limitless*. Eddie Morra was a nobody until he took NZT-48, a nootropic drug that turned him into a god among men. Then I remembered *Lucy*, where a different drug, CPH4, gave her superhuman abilities. My conclusion? If I wanted to survive in God's dimension in the early stages, I needed to become a drug addict—not literal drugs, but potions, pills, or substances that could gradually transform me into someone with power.
So, with a thought, I accessed God's system and searched for NZT-48. And there it was:
---
**NZT-48**
*Rating: 89*
A nootropic drug that enhances human memory and intelligence while acting as a nearly perfect antidepressant and anxiolytic. Unlocks 100% of the brain, increases intelligence to superhuman levels, and results in perfect recall for the duration of its effects.
*Requires 10,000 pts.*
*Effect lasts 24 hours.*
---
I remembered a time when I dated a girl who later became a neurobiologist. During her thesis, she often needed help with research, and I found myself diving into topics I had never expected to explore. One paper, in particular, caught my attention: it was about genetic mutations—not the *X-Men* kind, but anomalies in human genes that explained certain reactions to specific stimuli.
One mutation stood out: ALDH2*2, the *super-flusher variant*. It caused people's cheeks to flush after just one glass of wine due to a mutation in the ALDH2 gene, which interfered with the liver's ability to process acetaldehyde. I found myself diving deeper into these mutations: ACTN3 (super-sprinter), LRP5 (unbreakable), hDEC2 (super-sleeper). It was fascinating. Could these mutations be the key to unlocking human potential?
So, my plan became clear. If I could prove and apply this research to myself, NZT-48 could push me further. But I quickly realized that others before me had probably tried the same, and not many of them had survived the "game of death" we were stuck in.
If NZT-48 wouldn't work permanently, I had to think of something else.
After a long while, a song from a movie I'd seen played on loop in my head:
*Power, power, speak a little louder...*
I rapped it out to myself, slowly building momentum. And then, like a light bulb going off in my brain, the idea hit me.
There were only two power drugs I knew of that fit the bill: the power pill from *Project Power*, which grants abilities based on your genetic insecurities but only lasts five minutes, and Compound V from *The Boys*, a far more potent drug that grants a permanent ability—but with a high chance of side effects.
After some digging, I found both. The power pill cost a D-rank reward and 1,500 points—a ridiculous price for a consumable. Compound V, as expected, was priced like NZT-48 and also required a B-rank reward.
I didn't necessarily want either. I just needed to know they existed—because now, I knew I could make them myself.
I may have flunked chemical engineering out of boredom, but with NZT-48 and the research papers, I could make it work. In God's dimension, everything was possible—even making the ingredients myself.
Oh, this was going to be fun.