Next Morning
After breakfast, Slade left the house with his father, Richard, and Uncle Hales.
As the car sped down the main avenue, Slade leaned against the window, eyes wide with curiosity. Outside, the city buzzed with life — but not the kind he remembered from his old world.
People zipped past on floating boards, drones delivered parcels, and people received
through glowing rings, and holographic signs shimmered midair. Even street vendors were using superpowers like it was nothing.
A vegetable seller lazily floated cabbages toward customers while collecting cash with his other hand.
A food stall owner roasted skewers with real flames, shaping the fire like an artist sculpting heat itself.
Another vendor floated a steaming bowl of noodles straight into someone's hands.
"Okay," Slade muttered. "This world is peak innovation — and mild insanity."
He noticed that some foods looked familiar — noodles, buns, fried snacks — but subtly enhanced.
The colors were brighter, the aroma richer. Maybe it was the Essence that made even food look… leveled up.
Further down the street, police officers patrolled with cool half armor type costume; some had visible energy shields, while others wore standard uniforms but radiated quiet strength.
The city was alive — part sci-fi, part fantasy, and somehow still functioning.
Slade watched in fascination as a sleek car overtook them — and then rose into the air, smoothly gliding above the traffic."Flying cars too, huh? Guess someone beat Elan to it," he muttered.
He remembered reading last night about GNE — Gaseous Natural Essence, the new energy revolutionizing transportation.
Discovered fifteen years ago by Watson Pvt. Co., it had quickly become a global industry. Even the government was now working with Watson to redefine energy.
"So superpowers didn't make the world chaotic," Slade thought. "They just made capitalism fancier."
A few minutes later, their car pulled up in front of a massive tower of glass and steel, the Willson Technologies Headquarters.
From the outside, it looked like any modern corporate building — except for the faint blue circuits running up its walls, pulsing softly with energy.
After a brief security check, they stepped inside. The lobby gleamed with Essence-powered screens, robots rolling by, and engineers in sleek uniforms hurrying between labs.
Slade whistled low. "Okay, yeah. 'Tech giant' checks out. I feel like I walked into Fe Man's company."
Richard gave him a small smile but said nothing as they moved deeper inside.
They took the private lift all the way down — past floor after floor — until the display finally blinked: B14 – Research Sector.
The doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Dr Hales turned to Slade, his usual professional calm giving way to a faint grin.
"Welcome to the Research Faculty," he said.
Slade stepped out, eyes glinting with curiosity — and maybe a little curiosity.
Because if the office floor already looked this futuristic… he could only imagine what kind of gadget they were running fourteen stories underground.
And lo and behold, the underground facility was straight out of a sci-fi dream.
Everywhere Slade looked, people were experimenting with technology that screamed, "This will either change the world or blow it up."
A man in a lab coat wore strange gauntlets and casually lifted another man into the air — without touching him.
Another woman held a plain metal rod that suddenly transformed into a glowing sword of energy… then into a spear… then into a dagger.
Slade whistled. "Okay, someone here clearly plays too much RPG."
Then his eyes landed on a man dressed in a sleek, black suit from head to toe. Before Slade could blink, the man vanished. Completely.
"Wait, what—did he just disappear?" Slade's voice cracked slightly.
"Bro, that's not a stealth suit, that's a jump-scare suit!"
He turned to his left and nearly lost it.
Because there, walking casually across the lab floor… was a turtle. A turtle roughly the size of an average human.
The massive reptile strolled past two terrified interns at a casual pace — slow, confident, like it owned the place.
Slade blinked. "That thing could win a race against a motorcycle."
He nudged Dr Hales with wide eyes.
"Uncle… please tell me we're not experimenting with mutated turtles. What does it even do — Run faster for a race?"
Hales looked up from his clipboard, completely unfazed. "That's… actually not a turtle."
Slade frowned. "Uh, it's literally a turtle."
He stepped closer, curiosity getting the better of him. "Hey, big guy. Run faster. And don't stop to nap like those storybook rabbits."
He gently tapped the turtle's head.
And suddenly—
A deep, gravelly voice echoed from inside the shell."What do you think you're doing, brat?"
Slade froze mid-step. The turtle's shell split open like armour — and from within, an old man climbed out, his beard longer than Slade's list of regrets.
Slade's mouth opened. "I—uh—why was a senior citizen living inside a turtle mech?"
Dr Hales quickly rushed forward, bowing slightly. "Apologies, Dr Tobias. He's… recovering from a head injury. Still not entirely himself."
The old man adjusted his spectacles and glared at Slade. "Head injury or not, the next time you pat my research suit like a pet, I'll make you test its cannon blast."
Slade blinked. "Noted. No touching mutant reptiles. Got it."
Dr Hales sighed and turned to Slade. "That wasn't a turtle. It's a new underwater exploration exo suit — designed to withstand deep-sea pressure. Dr Tobias was testing its comfort functions."
Slade glanced at the hulking turtle-armour hybrid as it resealed around the old man.
"So… it's a marine cosplay? Cool. very cool."
Uncle Hales pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Let's just move along before you accidentally greet a cannon blast next."
Slade nodded solemnly. "Yeah, probably for the best."
Still processing the "turtle man incident," Slade turned to his uncle with a cautious grin. "Please tell me there are flying Man suits somewhere in here."
Uncle Hales raised an eyebrow. "We have flying cars," he said dryly, "but if the new GNE research is completed, we might build something close. Right now, the biggest issue is energy efficiency — using Essence directly in machines drains too much from the user."
Slade nodded little sadly. "Got it."
They reached another chamber — this one quieter, colder. Inside stood a massive cylindrical pod filled halfway with a thick, translucent liquid that glowed faintly blue.
The air smelled faintly metallic.
"This," Dr Hales said, gesturing to the machine, "is our Essence Bio-Scanner. It'll analyse your energy flow, superpower signature, and internal stability. The liquid medium helps channel Essence safely through the body."
He handed Slade a sleek black bodysuit. "Wear this. It'll help regulate the Essence current during the scan."
Slade held it up, frowning. "This thing looks like it was stolen from a superhero's wardrobe."
"Just put it on," Hales said, pinching his temples.
A few minutes later, Slade stepped into the scanner pod, the blue liquid rising around him. It was strangely warm — almost like stepping into a hot spring with static electricity running through it.
He felt the current pulse through his limbs, not painful, just... oddly alive.
His breathing slowed as the system began its process.
Scanning Essence Network…Analysing Core Pathways…Error Detected. Attempting Secondary Scan…
The light around him flickered once. His chest tightened, his eyelids grew heavy.
"Okay," he mumbled through the oxygen mask, "I'm either getting scanned or cooked… not sure which."
The hum of machinery deepened — and then everything went black.
When he woke, he was lying on a medical bed. His father, Richard, stood beside him, arms crossed.
Amelie hovered near the end of the bed, looking worried, while Uncle Hales scribbled notes on a tablet.
Slade blinked a few times, groaning. "Ugh… please tell me you guys didn't perform illegal experiments on me while I was out."
Hales didn't even look up. "Relax. You're fine. Mostly."
"'Mostly' doesn't sound reassuring, Uncle."
Hales sighed and finally turned to him. "We have two results — one good, one bad."
Slade raised a hand weakly. "Bad first. That way, the good news feels like a refund."
"The bad news," Hales said, "is that your Essence Type and Superpower both still show as ERROR. Even the scanner couldn't identify them. That's… unheard of."
Slade frowned. "So… my power's so mysterious even your million-dollar sci-fi tub gave up?"
"Essentially."
"Great. Love that for me."
Hales ignored him and continued. "Now, the good news — your Essence Value was recorded at 1164, even after partial recovery."
Slade's eyes widened. "Wait, that's—"
"More than an S-Rank Awakener at the start of their awakening," his father finished.
"Which means, despite the instability, your energy capacity is far beyond normal limits."
Slade blinked. "So I'm… a walking power bank with no charging cable?"
"Something like that," Richard said with a faint smile. "With this much Essence, you're cleared that you can use EBDs — Essence-Based Devices — at college. They'll help you practice Essence control safely."
Hales nodded. "You can take Basic Essence Utilisation and Application as your main course. And for your elective, I recommend Technological Integration. It aligns with your father's field, well, it will be for the future, so you don't have to worry too much."
Slade leaned back against the pillow, trying to process it all. "Error superpower. Supercharged Essence. A science degree. Yeah, that sounds like a recipe for disaster."
He smirked faintly. "Good thing I specialise in those."
What can he aspect now,
The test was over. The results? Exactly what you'd expect from Slade's cursed luck — half good, half bad, and all confusing.
Turns out, his Essence and superpower were still classified as ERROR, even by a multimillion-dollar scanner that could probably detect lies.
But on the bright side, his Essence Value was so high it could make S-Ranks jealous.
So yeah, he might be a walking glitch in the world's system — but at least he's a powerful glitch.
As Slade sat on the bed, still dazed and mild current still felt, he muttered, "Note to self… never trust any machine that hums louder than your heartbeat."
His father chuckled softly while Uncle Hales filled out paperwork, mumbling something about "statistical anomalies" and "worrying patterns."
Amelie just sighed in relief, watching him like someone who'd already accepted that Slade's life would never, ever be normal again.
And honestly… she was probably right.