Chapter 4: Dreams of Soaring

As Noah rose higher, inch by inch, the strain began to set in. His heart pounded like crazy. It was followed by a strange yet exhilarating fatigue, washing over him. Each centimeter felt like an uphill climb. At around a meter above the rooftop, he felt his energy drain faster than he expected. His strength was slipping as the thrill become a test of endurance.

Gravity pulled him back gently, and he wobbled as his feet met the ground. He stumbled but caught himself, feeling the rush linger even as his body protested. But his spirit soared higher than he’d managed to fly. The very thought of soaring freely someday lit a fire in his chest. He clenched his fists, letting out a shout that echoed across the quiet rooftop.

"I AM THE BEST!"

Laughter burst from him, uncontrolled, joyous, and pure—like a kid who’d just unlocked a secret door to a world he never knew existed.

Noah couldn’t sleep that night. The thrill of discovery had seized him, making the idea of lying in bed seem like a wasted opportunity. With the quiet world of midnight around him, he spent hours experimenting with his [Fly] skill on the rooftop, pushing it as far as his body would let him.

Through trial and error, he quickly found a rhythm in hovering just above the ground. Gliding at about a centimeter’s height didn’t drain him much—he could maintain it for longer stretches without exhausting himself. But as he pushed for higher lifts, his stamina plummeted rapidly, the strain intensifying with each inch he gained.

He reasoned that if he increased his Body stat, he’d last longer before feeling fatigued, giving him more freedom to test his skill’s limits. But there were still questions nagging at him. He couldn’t quite grasp what role the Mind and Soul stats played in his skill. They were his highest stats now, and while he’d raised them partly on instinct, he wondered if they influenced the strength or duration of his flight. Yet, the fact that he could activate the skill at all made him think he’d been right to focus on them.

Noah’s mind raced through possibilities with excitement overriding his exhaustion.

For the rest of the week, Noah threw himself into training like never before. Each day was spent hours on the rooftop and refining his [Fly] skill. He’d start by hovering just a few inches above the ground, slowly increasing his altitude.

Noah felt a rush of exhilaration every time he hit a new milestone. He hadn’t expected it to come so easily. Despite the initial struggle, he could now glide with relative ease, though the higher he went, the quicker his stamina drained.

Noah also made sure to keep his physical training consistent. With his uncle Martin’s help, he signed up for a gym membership. The gym wasn’t fancy, but it was enough to build the muscle and endurance he’d need. He spent hours lifting weights, running on treadmills, and focusing on exercises that would complement his newfound skill. His Body stat rose a little every time he pushed himself past his limits, his muscles slowly becoming leaner and stronger.

His routine became a strange blend of physical exertion and experimenting with his [Fly] skill. The gym helped him build the stamina and strength he needed to make longer, more controlled flights. The more he trained, the clearer it became that his dream of flying was within reach—he could actually do it.

But with that realization came doubt.

The existence of [Gifted] was making his dreams of flight a tad bit complicated.

Noah couldn't shake the thought of what being a superhero meant in the real world. His dad’s disapproval echoed in his mind. The idea of teenagers being forced into a system of constant missions, training, and dangerous fights had always left a bitter taste in his mouth. He remembered how his dad had often lamented the state of the hero program, how kids like him—young, full of potential but vulnerable—were pushed into the ranks far too soon.

His father had been pushing for the establishment of a Superhero Academy, a place that would train kids at a slower, more manageable pace, providing them with an actual education alongside their hero training. It was a concept his father believed in, one he had fought for behind the scenes. But Noah knew that while his dad pushed for change, the system remained what it was—a machine that chewed up its young, only leaving the toughest and most naïve unscathed.

“If only life is so easy…”

Noah didn’t want to be a superhero. He’d spent the entire week training, sure, but something about it still didn’t sit right with him. He’d seen enough to understand the weight of being a part of the system—a weight that his dad had carried for far too long. Noah’s resentment toward his father with his neglect and his constant absences was strong. His dad’s excuse for everything, the one that had become a thin veil for his lack of presence, was always the same: his "hero" work.

That was the reason for the late nights, the emotional distance, and the empty promises. His dad had always chosen the world over him, and Noah wasn’t sure if he’d ever truly forgiven him for that.

On top of all that resentment, Noah couldn’t bring himself to confess to his father that he’d been chosen by the [System]. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to—he was terrified of what it might mean. And in a strange way, he wanted to keep it from his father for just a little while longer.

There was an odd, misguided pride in him that kept him from seeking his dad’s help, even though he knew it could make things easier. He hated the idea of depending on his father, the same man who had let him down so many times before. It wasn’t just the pride, though. There was also a fear—a fear that by admitting the truth, he might bring the full weight of the government’s policies crashing down on them.

The Gifted Registration Act had been passed a while ago, but Noah didn’t fully understand all its implications. He just knew it was a law that required anyone with powers, anyone like him, to register with the government. What did that even mean for someone his age? He could be forcibly removed from his dad’s custody. They could take him away, send him to a government facility, and force him into a program where he'd be molded and used like so many others. He didn’t want that. No way could he let that happen. And the idea that his father, his only family, might not be able to stop it… that terrified him more than anything.

“Hmmm… Dad wouldn’t be able to do anything even if he is a hero…”

Noah just knew it, because there had already been a precedent.

It became a rather scandalous affair for some time. But in the end, the public outcry won.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Not even a ‘hero’ could protect their child from being forced into ‘hero work’ after being chosen by the system. The ‘law’ was absolute, unless you wanted to be a villain.

Moreover, Noah's skill was quite useful... There was no way the Superhero Association would let him go. If his skills were uninteresting and subpar, he might be let go though...

Noah loved his dad, despite everything. He didn’t want to lose him, but admitting what had happened might mean that he would. The more he thought about it, the more his mind twisted in knots. Could his dad keep him out of government custody? Would his dad even care enough to fight for him? Or would he just fall into line with the system, like he had so many times before?

It was Sunday.

Noah sat across from his uncle at a breakfast chain called Master Wok’s, a quiet and modest place known for its comfort food. The place was nearly empty, the clink of cutlery and soft chatter the only sounds. Uncle Martin had insisted they come here to eat, even though it was supposed to be a laid-back day. Noah had agreed, mainly because he wasn’t in the mood to argue. Plus, it gave him a chance to digest his thoughts in silence.

Tomorrow, Noah would return to school. It had been a week since his jump from the roof, and the days had felt like they passed by in a blur of training, reflection, and tension. There had been so much to think about—the [System], his new abilities, and the reality of what it meant to be Gifted.

School would be an inevitable return to the mundane, but Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t be the same. How could it be, when he knew he wasn’t just any ordinary teenager anymore?

Noah picked at his food and then glanced at his system interface. The screen only visible to him glowed faintly—

Name: Noah O. Knight

Class: Freedom

Level 2

Stats (0)—

Body: 6

Mind: 10

Soul: 10

Skill: Fly

His physical training had paid off. The increase in his Body stat wasn’t a huge jump, but it was a step in the right direction. Two points up in one week was impressive, and he had made a mental note to continue pushing his limits. If he kept this pace, maybe his stats would reach a point where his [Fly] skill could become something more than just a gimmick.

He knew that raising his stats wouldn’t always be this easy. The grind would get harder as time went on, and the [System] didn’t give any guidance on how far his training could take him. He wasn’t unfamiliar with games, though. He knew that every journey had its limits, and there was a certain point where you needed to put in extra effort to make progress. His training sessions had already become more intense, but Noah wasn’t complaining. Every stat increase felt like a small victory, and right now, that was all he could focus on.

Still, the thought of returning to school weighed on him. There were so many unknowns. Would anyone notice he had changed? Would they suspect something? Or would he be able to continue living his life without anyone finding out about his Gift?

Noah sat across from his uncle, half-heartedly picking at his food. His uncle Martin was devouring a plate of greasy fried rice topped with crispy duck, practically inhaling the meal as if it were the best thing he’d tasted all week. The sound of his uncle’s chopsticks clinking against the plate filled the silence between them.

“What’s the problem, kiddo? No appetite?” Martin asked with his mouth full, but the grin on his face remained intact.

“No, uncle, I’m fine,” Noah muttered, stirring his ramen aimlessly as he slurped it in small, distracted bites. “I am just… thinking about stuff…”

Martin didn’t seem to mind the silence; he was too busy enjoying his meal. But Noah could tell his uncle was waiting for him to say something. It wasn’t like he was expecting a deep conversation—it was just that awkward tension that Noah had come to recognize over the years.

After a while, Noah spoke up. His voice was a little quieter than usual.

“Hey, uncle… what do you think about the Gifted Registration Act?” he asked, keeping his gaze low, not sure how his uncle would respond.

Martin paused, mid-bite, clearly caught off guard by the question. He raised an eyebrow. The humor vanished from his face for a moment as he set his chopsticks down. It was the first time Noah had heard his uncle so serious about something like this.

“That’s a rather sudden question…” Martin muttered, rubbing his chin as he looked at Noah. “Hmm... What do I think about it? It’s stupid, that’s what I think about it.”

Noah blinked in surprise, not expecting such a blunt answer. His uncle had always been a man of few words when it came to serious topics, so hearing him talk so openly made Noah sit up a little straighter, his attention now fully on his uncle.

“It’s a damn power grab,” Martin continued, his tone turning more cynical as he leaned back in his chair, his hands folding across his chest. “The government’s just using the Gifted as a tool, forcing people to register, control them, and monitor them. You’re not a person anymore once they get their claws in you—you’re just another asset, another pawn. And they can do whatever they want with you. It’s messed up, kid. I don’t care what they say about safety or regulation. It’s all just a way to make sure they’ve got their eyes on every ‘special’ kid.”

Noah felt the intensity of his uncle’s words settle on him. The Gifted Registration Act had always seemed like just another law, but hearing it from someone who had lived through his own share of corrupt systems made the whole thing feel more real. It wasn’t just some bureaucratic nonsense—it had implications and consequences. For people like Noah, it wasn’t just about powers. It was about freedom.

Noah opened his mouth to respond, but his uncle raised a hand, cutting him off.

“Look, I’m not saying it’s all bad,” Martin added after a moment, as if reconsidering. “I mean, some of the Gifted might actually want to help out, might see it as their duty to follow the rules and keep the peace. But for the rest of us? It’s just another way to strip you of your autonomy. They’ll come after you when they want you to fight some battle, and you’ll be powerless to say no.”

Noah didn’t reply immediately. The conversation was becoming heavy.

“I don’t think I’d sign up for that, even if they made me,” Martin muttered under his breath, before picking up his chopsticks again. He added in a more casual tone, “It isn’t like I have powers… So, what about you? You planning on letting them register you, kid?”

Noah gave a soft, fake laugh, trying to brush off the unease caused by his uncle’s commentary. He leaned back in his chair, twirling his chopsticks in his fingers as if he were deep in thought.

“Well, if I had powers,” Noah started, his voice light, almost dismissive, “I’d probably register. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience Dad, you know?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. The thought of giving in to the government’s system, becoming just another cog in their machine, made his skin crawl.

Martin clicked his tongue, clearly not buying the casual tone. His eyes narrowed with a bit of annoyance slipping through his usually laid-back demeanor.

“Should tell your dad first, Noah,” he said, his voice firm but low. “You’re not a kid anymore. You need to take control of your own future, not let someone else dictate it for you.”

It sounded somehow contradictory to Noah’s ears.

Maybe he was just trying to avoid the conversation with his dad because it scared him. The truth was, Noah wasn’t sure if he could handle hearing what his father would say. Would he push him into becoming a superhero? Would he try to mold him into something he wasn’t?

Martin didn’t wait for an answer. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes hardening slightly as he continued.

“Ever heard the saying, ‘The children are the future of the city?’” Martin asked, his tone turning more serious. Noah’s gaze flicked up, curious despite himself. “There’s a reason why the government’s been focusing all its efforts on super children. It’s because they’re easier to mold. They’ve got more malleable potential, and unlike those who started out as independents, like your dad... kids are more likely to accept the ideas the government pushes. They’re impressionable. They’ll fall in line.”

Noah’s chest tightened at the words. Easier to mold. He didn’t like the sound of that at all. It made him feel like a puppet, with strings ready to be pulled by someone who didn’t care about his choices—just his usefulness.

“That’s what they want,” Martin added, his voice darkening. “A generation of kids who’ll grow up as obedient soldiers for the state. The more compliant they are, the less resistance they’ll face. And they’ll have total control. Just look at your dad—he’s not one to toe the line, and it’s cost him, hasn’t it?”