The smell of fresh coffee hung thick in the kitchen, curling around me as I slouched against the counter, thumb lazily flicking across my tablet. Another morning, same old drill. Outside, the city hummed its usual tune—cars blaring, footsteps pounding the pavement, some guy hawking cheap breakfast burritos down the block.
For most folks, it was just Tuesday.
For me? Another day of tinkering with my system—my weird little sidekick—chasing stuff that barely mattered.
Analysis Complete.
The words blinked up in the corner of my vision, sharp and crisp like always. My system's interface was a familiar ghost, hovering there as the tablet screen spilled out a dissection of the latest food obsession I'd been picking apart: some fancy restaurant's espresso-infused croissant.
Recipe Extracted: Espresso Butter Croissant. Ingredients ticked off like a grocery list—high-gluten flour, that overpriced European butter, a splash of Madagascar vanilla, a double-shot of espresso strong enough to wake the dead. Prep time? Three damn days, thanks to fermentation and all that lamination nonsense. Then the kicker: Possible Enhancements—Cut butter by 4% for extra snap. Bump espresso by 12% if you want it to linger.
I let out a slow breath, almost a groan. This was my system's bread and butter—pun intended. Analyzing. Tweaking. Perfecting. It'd been with me since I was a kid, this quiet thing in my head, like a shadow that never left. Not some epic power-up like in those web novels I used to devour—no fireballs, no super strength. Just… breakdowns. Recipes. Gadgets. Once in a while, something clever enough to slap a patent on.
I stretched, joints popping, trying to shake off the morning fog. Another day, spinning my wheels—
Then the sky tore open.
It started small—a low buzz, barely there, like a mosquito you can't slap away. Then it grew, vibrating deep in my chest, rattling my teeth. Shadows followed, huge and ugly, swallowing the sun whole.
I didn't even get a chance to blink before the first blast hit.
BOOM.
The windows shook like they'd shatter any second. A skyscraper a few blocks off cracked open—jagged, like someone took a sledgehammer to an egg. Chunks of concrete and glass rained down, glinting in the light as they fell. Screams ripped through the air, people running, tripping over each other.
Another explosion, closer now. The floor jolted under me, coffee sloshing over the counter.
I stumbled to the window, yanking the curtain back with hands I didn't realize were shaking.
What I saw didn't compute.
Ships—massive, twisted things, all sharp angles and dark metal, floating over the city like they owned it. Smaller crafts spilled out from their guts, dropping fast, and then came the things—tall, armored freaks with shells that shimmered like oil slicks, weapons glowing sickly green in their claws.
This wasn't an attack. This was an invasion.
I lurched back, breath catching in my throat. This couldn't be real. A movie set, maybe? Some insane prank? My brain scrambled for anything that made sense—
Then I saw them.
Humans, but not like me. Not like anyone I'd ever met. They moved too fast—blurs slicing through the chaos. A guy with wild hair flung his hands out, and fire roared from his palms, turning a pack of those alien bastards to ash. A woman in a black suit—sleek, like she'd walked out of a comic book—shot into the air, palms blasting shockwaves that shredded metal like paper.
Superhumans. Actual, living superhumans.
Everything I'd ever known splintered right there.
I'd spent my whole life thinking I was just a guy with a weird trick—a system that tweaked recipes and fixed broken toasters. A quirk, nothing more.
Now? Outside my window, people were torching aliens with powers I couldn't dream up.
I didn't have time to wrap my head around it before the fight crashed onto my street.
Two shapes hit the pavement hard—one a hulking alien, its armor busted up, sparks spitting from its weapon. The other was human, but barely hanging on. Blood oozed from a gash in his side, dark and slick, his chest heaving like every breath hurt.
I stood there, rooted, watching them slam into each other again. The human moved fast—faster than he should've, with that wound—his hand glowing hot and white. But the alien was quicker. Its blade carved a vicious arc, biting deep into the guy's shoulder. He grunted, staggered, then threw everything he had left—a burst of light from his palm, point-blank.
The alien's chest crumpled like a tin can, and it dropped, twitching once before going still.
Quiet fell, heavy and wrong.
The man swayed, dragging himself toward the alley by my house, then—gone. Like he'd never been there.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking as I edged closer to the window. The street was empty now, the chaos rolling further off. The alien's body sprawled there, its weapon flickering weakly.
Then I saw it—on the wall by my house. Blood. Streaks of it, red and human, mixed with something darker, thicker, not right.
My system kicked in, uninvited.
Mimic & Synthesis System Activated. Words flashed sharp in my skull. Foreign substances detected. Analyzing…
I stared, dumbstruck. My system—the thing I'd used to perfect croissants—was pinging on blood.
Human Blood (Type AB+). Enhanced cells, it said. Not normal human. Unknown Organic Matter. Non-human DNA, maybe regeneration, maybe energy tricks.
A menu popped up.
Possible Actions: Mimic Ability (Temporary - 24 Hours). Synthesize & Experiment. Breakdown & Study.
My breath snagged. This wasn't tweaking pastries. This was… something else.
The street was dead quiet. No one to see me.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I could back off, pretend this never happened—or I could leap.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I chose.
Mimic Ability.
A sting bit my fingertips, sharp and sudden, as the system pulled in the blood. Heat roared through me—veins, bones, everything—like I'd mainlined fire. For a second, I thought I'd drop.
Then it settled.
Something new hummed under my skin, alien but mine.
Temporary Mimicry Activated: Tier 1 Regeneration. Minor wounds gone in seconds. Stamina jacked up. 24 hours.
I lifted my hand. A nick I hadn't noticed—a papercut, maybe—closed up as I watched, skin knitting itself shut.
I let out a shaky laugh. "Holy shit."
For years, my system had been a toy—recipes, gadgets, small wins.
Now? I'd just stolen a superpower.
The world I'd known was ash.
And ahead? Something bigger than I'd ever dared imagine.