Nico dragged himself through the front door of his house, each step feeling like he was carrying a thousand pounds. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, aching in ways he didn’t even know were possible. He had just barely made it back, his legs trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The adrenaline from the fight had long since worn off, leaving behind only pain and exhaustion.

As he crossed the threshold, he collapsed onto the couch in the living room, too tired to even make it to his bedroom. His body throbbed in dull agony, the result of using a power his body wasn’t conditioned to handle.

Five minutes, he reminded himself. That’s all the time he had with any copied ability before the toll on his body became too much to bear. And he had pushed those five minutes to the edge—first fighting Kyle, and then the gang.

He glanced down at his arms, bruises forming beneath his skin. His legs ached, his back felt like it had been stretched to the breaking point, and his hands were trembling from the aftershocks of using the knife skills he’d copied from the gang member. It hadn’t been like this in the moment. In the heat of battle, it had all felt natural. But now, his untrained body was paying the price for borrowing powers it wasn’t built to handle.

There’s a cost to everything, the god’s voice echoed in his mind, a distant memory from when he had first been granted this strange gift. The stronger the power, the heavier the burden.

He hadn’t realized what that truly meant—until now.

Nico closed his eyes, trying to will the pain away. The fight played over and over in his head. Jenna’s terrified face. The gleam of the knife. The gang members running off. He had saved her. That part was undeniable. But now, as he lay sprawled out on the couch, barely able to move, the question hit him like a sledgehammer: Was it worth it?

He had risked his life, and the damage to his body was real. If he had pushed himself just a little further, gone beyond the five-minute limit… what would’ve happened? He shuddered at the thought.

The pain wasn’t just physical. His mind was reeling from the intense focus and adrenaline that came with each fight. Each time he copied a new ability, his brain had to process skills and information that weren’t his own. It was overwhelming, like cramming years of experience into his head in mere seconds.

As his body grew heavier with fatigue, he thought about Kyle—about how easy it had seemed for him to control his power. How natural it had been for the gang member to wield that knife with deadly precision. Those people had trained their bodies for years to handle their abilities. Nico, though, was just an overweight, out-of-shape kid with no fighting experience and a mysterious power he barely understood.

This isn’t sustainable, Nico realized, a sense of dread settling over him. If I keep using these abilities without training, I’m going to break myself.

He needed to figure something out—fast. Otherwise, one day he might not be able to get back up after using a borrowed power.

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The next morning came too quickly, and the moment Nico tried to roll out of bed, a sharp, burning pain shot through his muscles. His body refused to cooperate, stiff and sore from head to toe. He groaned as he managed to sit up, every movement an effort.

Great, he thought. Now I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

He could barely walk to the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror showed dark circles under his eyes, and his limbs looked heavy, like they were weighed down by invisible chains. He hadn’t felt this beat-up after the fight with Kyle because that had been short. But the gang fight? That had pushed him beyond his limits.

After a painful shower and forcing himself to get dressed, he somehow made it to school. Every step was an ordeal, but he managed to avoid attention. His classmates, as usual, barely noticed him.

Except for Jenna.

She caught him by the lockers before first period, her face a mixture of concern and gratitude. “Nico, are you okay?” she asked, her voice low and sincere. “After last night… you didn’t look so good.”

Nico managed a half-smile, wincing as he leaned against the lockers. “I’ve been better.”

She bit her lip, her eyes scanning him like she could see through the brave face he was putting on. “I wanted to thank you again. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

Nico nodded, but he didn’t trust himself to say much. Talking felt like it would drain what little energy he had left. Jenna glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping closer.

“Nico… how did you do it?” she whispered. “Those guys had powers, real ones. And you just—fought them like you knew exactly what to do. I didn’t even know you—”

“I didn’t know either,” Nico interrupted, his voice soft and tired. “It’s… complicated.”

Jenna’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t press him for more. She could see the exhaustion etched on his face. “Well, complicated or not, you saved me. You’re a hero.”

Nico flinched at the word. Hero. It didn’t feel right. Heroes didn’t get this wrecked after five minutes of fighting.

“I don’t feel like one,” he muttered.

Jenna opened her mouth to respond, but the bell rang, signaling the start of class. She gave him one last look before heading to her homeroom, leaving Nico standing there, lost in his thoughts.

The day dragged on, every class a blur of pain and exhaustion. Nico couldn’t focus. All he could think about was the toll his power had taken on him. What would happen if he tried to copy something stronger? Something more dangerous? What if he lost control? The possibilities weighed heavily on him, gnawing at the edges of his mind.

By the time school ended, Nico was barely holding it together. He slumped in his seat, his body sore and unresponsive. He knew something had to change. He couldn’t keep using his power recklessly, or one day, it would break him completely.

As he walked home, his mind raced, trying to figure out a solution. Training. That’s what he needed. His body wasn’t ready for the kind of strain copying powers put on it. He couldn’t just rely on raw instinct anymore. If he wanted to keep using his ability—if he wanted to survive—he needed to get stronger, both physically and mentally.

The thought made him grimace. He wasn’t the kind of guy who spent time in the gym, and the idea of working out or learning to fight felt alien to him. But what choice did he have? He wasn’t like Kyle or the gang members. He couldn’t coast on raw talent and experience.

If he wanted to protect himself—and maybe even protect others—he had to start somewhere.

And so, as Nico limped toward home, a new determination flickered in his chest. It was faint, like a single flame in the darkness, but it was there.

He would train. He would push through the pain. And next time, when the power came, he wouldn’t just copy it.

He would control it.