The void beyond comprehension stirred in turmoil. Amid the stars and the vast emptiness of the universe, two unknown entities clashed with cataclysmic power. Their strikes tore through reality itself, their energies blurring the boundaries of space and time.
Amid their cosmic battle, the protective sphere housing the Bloodline Source—a relic of untold power—shimmered in its isolated sanctuary. It was one of many such sources scattered across the universe, each hidden in an unreachable location, each holding the essence of its unique element. But the collision of two titanic forces was not something the universe had prepared for.
A stray attack, sharp and relentless, pierced the isolated sphere. The mighty barrier cracked and shattered, the Source within quaking as damage rippled through its very being. Its form dimmed, its strength drained rapidly. Desperation surged through the Bloodline Source, an intelligence rooted in survival guiding its next move.
With its energy nearly extinguished, the Source extended its last strands of awareness, seeking a host. Across the planets of the universe, it scoured for a being with a mutation unique enough to house its immense power. Time and space blurred for the Source until it found a newborn—a child named Adam.
As Adam took his first breaths, unaware of the cosmos' focus on him, the Source descended upon him, merging seamlessly with his body. A faint glow flickered at the center of Adam's forehead, right between his eyebrows, before vanishing as though it had never been there. The Source became dormant, hiding within Adam, who remained blissfully unaware of what had transpired.
Adam woke up to the sound of loud, exasperated shouting. He blinked groggily, sitting up on his bed as sunlight filtered through the small window of his modest room. His grandmother's voice carried through the thin walls, sharp and angry.
"I've already submitted the papers three times! How can you still be delaying his pension? He lost his parents in a government accident! Do you even have any empathy?"
Adam sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. He glanced at the clock on the wall—it was just past seven in the morning. His grandmother's frustration was nothing new, but this time, the stress in her voice was palpable.
Throwing on a loose shirt, Adam stepped into the small living room where his grandmother was pacing back and forth with her phone pressed against her ear. Her greying hair was tied back in a bun, but the lines on her face seemed deeper than usual, etched by sleepless nights and relentless bureaucracy.
"Don't give me that nonsense about processing delays! It's been three months, and you're still making excuses! Do you know how much we've struggled without that support?!" she snapped, her voice trembling.
Adam leaned against the doorway, listening silently. He didn't want to interrupt her, knowing she was already at her limit. The pension she was arguing about was supposed to come from his parents' service as government officials, but an "unfortunate accident" had claimed their lives. What was supposed to be a straightforward process had turned into a nightmare of red tape and apathetic officials.
"I don't care who you need to talk to," his grandmother continued, her voice rising. "Fix it, or I'll come down there myself and raise hell!"
Adam stepped forward cautiously. "Grandma, maybe I can help—"
She held up a hand, signaling for him to wait, her focus entirely on the call. After another few minutes of heated arguing, she finally hung up, muttering under her breath about incompetent bureaucrats.
"I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," she said, more to herself than to Adam. Her shoulders slumped as she sat down heavily on the worn-out sofa.
Adam approached and sat beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure it out, Grandma. Don't worry."
She looked at him with tired eyes but managed a small smile. "You shouldn't have to deal with all this at your age, Adam. Your parents would've wanted better for you."
Adam didn't respond immediately. He looked away, his mind churning. He had spent the last few years trying to make sense of his life, throwing himself into experiments and research as a way to distract from the loss. But no matter how hard he worked, the shadow of his parents' absence loomed over him.
"I'm not a kid anymore, Grandma," he said softly. "We'll get through this. Together."
His grandmother reached out and squeezed his hand. "You're a good boy, Adam. You always were."
As she got up to make breakfast, Adam leaned back, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts drifted