Birthday

As I woke up on the day of my birthday, the room was eerily quiet. Flora lay beside me, completely out cold. Atlas had pushed her hard during training the previous day, and it showed—her Crimson Halo finally awakened, a significant milestone for her. She deserved the rest.

She looked peaceful, her black hair splayed across the pillow like a cascade of silk. She wore only her bra and undergarments, her body rising and falling steadily with each breath. For a moment, I watched her, struck by how much she had grown—not just in power, but in her resolve.

Unlike her, I always preferred to sleep fully clothed. Today, I had on a baggy white T-shirt with a roaring T-rex printed on the front, its fierce head turned to the left. Paired with that, I wore my usual black shorts. Comfortable, simple, unassuming—just like I wanted to feel today.

Careful not to wake Flora, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and made my way to the bathroom. The mirror reflected a face that looked older than its years, burdened by the weight of responsibilities I hadn't yet fulfilled. My hands moved on autopilot as I brushed my teeth for a solid five minutes, then rinsed with water cupped in my hands, letting the coolness wake me up further. I finished by scraping my tongue with a metal tool and washing my face with a face wash that Flora had insisted I use.

As I applied a small dab of moisturizer—another of Flora's rules—I couldn't help but notice how dark my eyes looked. They weren't just tired; they carried something deeper.

By the time I made it downstairs, it was still dark outside. The clock read 6:00 A.M., and the silence of the early morning filled the house. The sky was tinged with the faintest hues of blue and orange, the sun not yet risen but already preparing its grand entrance.

I stood by the large window, watching the horizon. Normally, sunrises gave me a sense of hope—a reminder that no matter how dark things got, light would always return. But today, it felt hollow.

Sixteen years old. I should've been excited, but I wasn't. Instead, my chest felt heavy, weighed down by the same thoughts that haunted me every day.

I still haven't done it.

I hadn't defeated Kai. I hadn't avenged my mom. I hadn't accomplished what I set out to do. For all my progress, for all the wins I'd stacked up against Atlas, it felt like I was still leagues away from where I needed to be.

My fists clenched at my sides, the frustration bubbling beneath my calm exterior. Atlas had been pushing me harder lately, and it was paying off—I was getting stronger, faster, more in tune with my powers. But it wasn't enough. Not yet.

The sun began to crest over the horizon, painting the sky in soft pinks and golds. It was beautiful, and yet, it only reminded me of the emptiness I felt.

Mom...

Her face appeared in my mind, unbidden. It had been six years since she died, and the ache of her absence hadn't dulled one bit. If anything, it had sharpened. I wanted so badly to tell her about my progress, to show her how far I'd come. To tell her that I wasn't the scared little boy she left behind.

But I couldn't.

Atlas had once tried to comfort me, explaining that because he was a fragment of the greater entity known as the Universe, he believed she was in a better place. He didn't mean Heaven or Hell—those were just dimensions locked in eternal war. No, he believed that Mom had moved beyond, to a place beyond our comprehension.

Fate guided everything, he'd said. Fate is never wrong.

I remembered that conversation vividly. It had taken place during one of our more philosophical training sessions, where he taught me to manipulate time, fate, and death. Time manipulation had come easily enough; fate manipulation was trickier, requiring a level of detachment that I wasn't yet capable of. Death, though... death was still beyond me.

Atlas had a way of speaking about these grand cosmic forces like they were old friends. When he first mentioned Fate, I'd been intrigued. He described it as a being, brown in hue with a clock embedded in its chest, just above its stomach.

"It appears differently to everyone," Atlas had said, his voice low and reverent. "It takes on a form that the beholder will trust."

He went on to describe Fate as powerful—far more powerful than anything I could currently comprehend. But when I pressed him for more details, he shook his head.

"It's not your time to know," he said simply. "Focus on what's in front of you."

So, I had. I poured myself into training, burying my curiosity under hours of sweat and pain. But now, standing here in the dim light of dawn, I couldn't help but wonder.

Was Fate watching me? Guiding me? Or was I just another cog in its endless machine?

The sound of soft footsteps broke through my thoughts. I turned to see Flora, her hair messy from sleep, but her eyes bright and alert. She smiled at me, and for a moment, the heaviness in my chest lifted.

"Happy birthday," she said, her voice soft but warm.

"Thanks," I replied, managing a small smile.

She walked over to me, standing by my side as we both gazed out at the rising sun. For a while, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable—it was the kind of silence that only came from understanding.

"You, okay?" she asked after a while, her voice tinged with concern.

"Yeah," I lied.

Flora wasn't fooled. She reached out and took my hand, her grip firm but comforting. "You'll get there," she said quietly. "I know you will. And when you do, I'll be right there beside you."

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I turned to look at her, seeing the unwavering belief in her eyes. It was humbling, and it was everything I needed to hear.

"Thanks, Flora," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "That means a lot."

She smiled, leaning her head against my shoulder. "You don't have to carry all of this alone, you know. You have me. You have Atlas. And one day... you'll have everyone else, too. But for now, just focus on today. It's your birthday. Let yourself enjoy it."

I nodded, though the weight in my chest didn't fully lift. Still, her presence made it easier to bear.

For the first time that morning, I allowed myself to hope. Maybe she was right. Maybe I will get there.

And maybe, just maybe, Fate was watching after all.

"I'll rest when you're beside me again," she said with a playful smile, but it didn't take long for the weight of sleep to pull her back under.

I guided her back to the bed, tucking her in. she curled up under the blankets, looking peaceful as her breathing evened out. I kissed her forehead and watched her for a moment longer before heading to the kitchen to clear my mind.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge. I used telekinesis to empty the dishwasher and put everything away before grabbing my usual glass of apple juice and staring out at the horizon. The sun was rising, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Normally, this would bring me a sense of calm, but today it didn't.

Sixteen. I was sixteen today, but instead of feeling like I'd reached a milestone, I felt like I was falling behind. I hadn't defeated Kai, hadn't avenged my mother, and despite all the progress I'd made, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't strong enough.

Atlas once said that life wasn't a straight line. That growth came in bursts, often when we least expected it. But even his words couldn't fill the void in my chest where grief still lingered. My mom… She would have been proud of me, I think, but I'd never get to hear her say it.

"Fate guides everything," Atlas had told me once. "It's never wrong, even when it seems cruel. You're exactly where you need to be, Nova."

It was hard to believe him, even if I wanted to.

The basement wasn't just a basement; it was a doorway to another dimension; one Atlas had created solely for our training. It existed outside the normal flow of time, so no matter how long I spent there, I'd emerge to find the same moment waiting for me in the real world.

I descended, stretching as I went, knowing I'd need every bit of flexibility and focus for what was ahead. Flora wasn't there yet—she deserved the extra sleep after achieving her Crimson Halo—but Atlas was waiting, sitting cross-legged in the center of the room.

"Happy birthday," he said casually, not looking up.

"Thanks," I replied, already rolling my shoulders to loosen up. "What's the plan for today?"

"Push yourself," he said simply. "You're sixteen now. Let's see if you can act like it."

I smirked at his jab and stepped forward. This wasn't going to be an easy day.

The first part of my workout was straightforward: deficit pushups with increasing weight. Atlas watched silently as I loaded three yellow plates—each weighing 500 yottagrams—on either side of my back. I started with a warm-up of 500 reps, followed by a short 90-second break, planking the entire time to maintain my core engagement.

The weights weren't ordinary. In this dimension, nothing was. They glowed faintly with an otherworldly energy, their colors signifying their intensity: white for 100 yottagrams, green for 250, yellow for 500, and purple for 1,000.

After another 1,000 reps, I removed the yellow plates and loaded the purple ones. Ten plates total. This was my maximum load—or so I thought.

My goal today was simple: beat my personal record of 100 reps. The first 80 reps came easily enough, but by the 90th, my muscles burned like fire. Sweat poured off me, pooling on the ground beneath.

"Push," I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible over the pounding in my head.

At the 99th rep, I paused, every fiber of my being trembling with exhaustion. Atlas didn't say a word. He didn't need to. I knew the rule: never stop on an odd number. One more.

I gritted my teeth, summoning every ounce of strength I had left. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I thought I might black out. But I did it. I hit 100 and collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air.

Atlas walked over, looking down at me with a faint smirk. "Not bad. For a kid."

I rolled onto my back, panting. "One of these days, Atlas… I'm gonna wipe that smirk off your face."

"Good," he said simply. "Now get up. We're not done yet."

I groaned but forced myself to my feet. There was no time for rest. Not today.

The day wore on with relentless training—weights, endurance, and finally, hand-to-hand combat. By the time I emerged from the basement, I was drenched in sweat and utterly spent. Flora was waiting for me in the kitchen, her protein shake in hand.

"Rough session?" she asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Rougher than usual," I admitted, grabbing my own shake from the fridge.

She watched me for a moment, her expression softening. "You're doing great, Nova. Really."

"Thanks," I said, meeting her gaze. For the first time that day, I felt a flicker of something other than exhaustion. A flicker of hope. She went back upstairs as it wasn't her time to get up, she was thirsty, which was why she came up.

It was a good meal—just 900 calories with 84 grams of protein and only 30 grams of fat. The sugar was low, the sodium was reasonable, and it packed around 2,000 milligrams of calcium, which was decent for maintaining my overall health. As I ate, the sound of Flora stirring upstairs caught my attention.

From the faint rustle of sheets to the sound of her first steps, I could predict her routine with near-perfect accuracy. Sure enough, moments later, I heard her shuffle to the bathroom, the soft sound of running water signaling her first trip of the morning. Flora always woke up sluggishly, and after her second trip to the bathroom, she'd typically stumble out of bed and make her way downstairs.

Finishing my meal, I wiped my face and checked my body metrics in the basement. The usual routine. First, the scale: 197.4 pounds. Good. My weight was steady. Then, height: 6 feet, 5 inches. No change. I didn't expect any at this point, but I checked anyway. Flora, by comparison, was a compact 5 feet, 8 inches.

With my stats in order, I double-checked everything else: body fat, muscle mass, biceps size. Seven percent body fat. Twenty-inch biceps. Decent. Still, there was room for improvement.

I climbed back upstairs as Flora groggily entered the kitchen, still in her bra and pajama bottoms. Her hair was a wild mess, her eyes half-closed, and she mumbled something incoherent. I smiled at the sight—it was rare to see her this unpolished. She shuffled to the table, and I placed a steaming bowl of oats in front of her, complete with two cups of milk and protein powder.

"Here," I said, pulling out a chair for her. She plopped down, barely awake, and started eating mechanically, her growling stomach doing all the talking.

Meanwhile, Atlas returned from his morning inspection, looking unusually serious.

"What's with the face?" I asked, setting Flora's empty bowl in the sink and rinsing it out.

He crossed his arms, his gaze distant. "Kai's making the zombies stronger. It's not looking good for you. You won't clear all of Africa, Asia, or Europe with just the two of you. Not at the rate you're going."

Flora, still half-asleep, perked up slightly at his tone.

Atlas continued, "If you don't get significantly stronger, it won't be a matter of if the zombies overrun the humans—it'll be when."

I shrugged, more annoyed than worried. "We'll figure it out. Besides, humans can defend themselves."

He glanced at me sharply but said nothing for a moment. Then his tone softened. "Oh, by the way, happy birthday, Noah."

"Thanks," I replied bluntly, not quite in the mood for pleasantries.

Atlas gave a small nod, then walked out of the house, heading toward the woods with an expression that was hard to read. I watched him go, briefly wondering what was going through his mind, but Flora's sudden movements brought my attention back to her.

She stretched her arms wide, letting out a soft yawn before lunging toward me for a hug. Her arms wrapped around my waist, and I couldn't help but return the embrace. Her warmth was comforting, even as her groggy state made her cling to me like a sleepy child.

We stayed like that for what felt like ten minutes, just holding each other. Eventually, she pulled away, fully awake now, and gave me a playful smile before heading upstairs to change.

When she came back down, dressed in black shorts and a matching T-shirt, she looked effortlessly stunning. She never wore makeup—she didn't need to. Her natural beauty was one of the many things I admired about her.

We sat on the couch together, flipping through channels to find something decent to watch. Of course, nothing good was on, so we settled for cartoons. Flora curled up against me, becoming the little spoon as we cuddled.

About an hour passed in comfortable silence. Flora playfully nibbled at my hand, a habit she'd picked up over the years that was as weird as it was endearing. She reminded me of a mischievous puppy, full of energy and affection.

As I leaned down to kiss her forehead, the house phone rang, shattering the peaceful moment. I hesitated, hoping it would stop, but it kept ringing.

"Who's calling at this hour?" Flora muttered, pouting as I gently shifted her off my lap.

"Let's find out." I sighed, walking over to the phone and picking it up.

"Who's this?" I asked, my tone sharp.

"Are you Noah?" The voice on the other end was frantic, almost breathless.

"Yeah," I replied cautiously. "Who's asking?"

"I'm one of the scientists from the lab!" the man exclaimed. His voice was panicked, and I could hear him running. "General Park—she's destroying the Zombane base! Zombies are everywhere!"

The line crackled with the sound of chaos—screams, snarls, the wet crunch of flesh being torn apart. The scientist let out a bloodcurdling scream before the line went dead.

I lowered the phone, my expression unreadable.

"Who was it?" Flora asked, her concern evident.

"No one important," I said flatly, placing the phone back on its base.

I didn't care about the humans—not after the way they'd treated me and Flora. They had their powers, their zombie DNA. They could defend themselves. I wasn't their savior.

Flora watched me carefully, her eyes searching mine for a hint of what I was feeling. I gave her nothing.

"Let's not worry about them," I said, sitting back down beside her. "They can handle themselves."

She nodded slowly, leaning her head against my shoulder. For now, we had each other—and that was all that mattered.

I went back to my spot, and she went back on top of me as we continued watching some cartoons. The familiar hum of laughter and lighthearted animation filled the air. For a moment, it felt like everything was okay again, a brief reprieve from the chaos that always lingered just out of sight.

Another hour passed. We hadn't moved much—still cuddling on the couch when Atlas finally appeared, stepping back into our view, looking dirtier than any human should ever have to. His clothes were disheveled, his face streaked with mud like a dog that had just leapt into a swamp.

"Why are you so dirty?" I asked, squinting as I assessed his appearance.

Atlas looked at me with that same childlike enthusiasm, eyes wide and filled with excitement. "I've been working on a project for over a year now, and I think it's finally complete!" His voice practically bubbled with excitement.

"Interesting. So, explain it further," I said, leaning up slightly, curiosity starting to gnaw at the edges of my mind. Flora nodded in agreement beside me, her hair falling over her shoulder.

"It's better if you see it for yourself," he said, his grin wide and teasing.

Before I could press further, he gestured toward the door, signaling us to follow him. We all stood, stretching out sore muscles and yawning, and made our way outside into the crisp morning air. The breeze was cold against my skin, and the trees danced with delight as the wind swept through them. The animals were playing in groups, their happy noises filling the serene morning.

We ventured into the dense forest. The sound of birds and rustling leaves was soothing until we came across a glowing portal—a swirling, luminous gateway shimmering with a faint golden hue. Atlas stepped through first, and I followed, then Flora joined, hesitating for a split second before stepping into the swirling light.

The moment we fully crossed into the other side; I was met with an eerie sight. The area was vast, filled with stone and metallic objects scattered about. Standing eerily still like statues, a dozen Atlas clones awaited our arrival. They were humanoid but perfectly identical, not moving a muscle except to face us as though waiting for orders.

"Welcome to your new training dimension," Atlas said, his voice booming with authority as he spread his arms wide, his clones standing at attention behind him. "This is where you'll train to become stronger—stronger than sparring with me, stronger than you ever thought possible. Of course, you'll still spar with me, but the real training begins here."

My heart raced as I looked around. Rocks, plates, weights, and bags were scattered across this strange, unnatural landscape. They looked deceptively mundane, but as I caught sight of their ominous sheen, I knew better.

I bent down to grab a bag, attempting to gauge its weight, only to find myself nearly collapsing under its pressure. My muscles groaned under strain as I barely managed to lift it a few inches. My head throbbed as I set it down with a thud.

"That's two hundred jottagramme," Atlas explained casually, his voice calm as if this was entirely normal. "About two hundred thousand yottagramme. One jottagramme is roughly equivalent to one thousand yottagramme."

I stared at him in confusion, genuinely not understanding. "Wait, there are units above yottagramme?" I managed, voice unsure.

"Oh, absolutely," Atlas said with an almost condescending smile. "We've got notatagramme, magonagramme… all sorts of other units. You'll learn about them soon enough."

The thought of weights, units, and their terrifyingly high numbers made me grimace. I already felt like my body was on the verge of giving out. "Interesting," I mumbled, trying to process this new information as dread pooled in my stomach.

Flora, standing beside me, chuckled as she leaned into the excitement of the moment. "Looks like you've got a lot of new toys to play with, Noah."

Before I could retort, Atlas grabbed my hand and strapped two massive two-hundred jottagramme bags onto me. My body immediately collapsed under their weight, unable to move, frozen like a statue.

"Uh, hey—what the hell is this?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice as I felt as though I was being crushed into the earth.

"Welcome to the next stage of your training," Atlas said smugly, arms crossed as he surveyed me struggling. "You can thank me later when you're stronger."

I struggled, my body groaning and shaking. Flora's face contorted into a mixture of incredulity and sympathy as she watched. "You're not going to get up anytime soon, are you?"

"Maybe you should scale back a little," she said, voice uncertain.

"No baby steps here, Flora," Atlas chimed in, eyes sparkling with sadistic glee. "We go all in from the start."

With my muscles screaming and the air being driven out of my lungs by the crushing weight, I tried. And tried again. I pushed with every ounce of willpower. My body felt like it was disintegrating, but something within me refused to give up. The goal, the hope of beating Kai, was far stronger than the pain.

I forced my body into motion, one agonizing step at a time, muscles screaming in protest, until finally, I managed to stand, swaying like a ship in a storm.

"That's it," Atlas said, feigning excitement. "See? You can do it if you try."

I took another shaky step, but my legs failed me again, sending me to the ground. Flora laughed this time as I collapsed, but she didn't mock me. There was admiration, encouragement buried beneath her teasing.

"Don't give up now," she said, voice gentle yet firm.

I clenched my fists, grit my teeth, and pressed forward again. My body began to adapt, strain replaced with determination.

"Now," Atlas said, pointing toward a heavy, black boxing bag. "Hit that. You've been avoiding it long enough."

I looked at it with hesitation. My hands trembled as I wondered if I had it in me. The bag was as solid as stone, cold and unyielding.

"I don't think I can do this," I admitted, my voice uncertain.

Atlas, standing with smug satisfaction, taunted me: "Don't be a coward. Hit it."

I hesitated again, but then Flora's voice pierced my thoughts: "If you believe in something, that will happen. Just believe in it more and more, and the Universe will hand it to you."

Her words ignited something in me—a spark, a clarity that I'd clung to in moments of despair. My body surged with newfound determination.

I lunged at the bag and struck it with all my strength, pain reverberating through my knuckles. I hit it again and again, until finally, the sound of impact mixed with my breathing and the crack of exertion filled the training dimension.

The moment I struck it the tenth time, my vision swam, and I collapsed to my knees, everything feeling blurred and on the edge of breaking.

"Welcome back," Atlas muttered, giving me a long, skeptical glance.

I didn't say anything, only breathing heavily as pain licked at every nerve in my body. My hand throbbed, broken but alive. I could feel Flora's presence behind me, steadying me.

"I'll get better," I whispered to myself, my voice resolute, "and I'll beat Kai. I'll tear through every barrier, no matter how strong."

And in that moment, I meant it.