Your Power Stones and comments are motivation for my Creation. Motivate!!! Me.
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When Mark finally exited the room, Noah let out a sigh of relief. He slumped back into his seat, shoulders sagging, the carefree demeanor he had maintained in Mark's presence vanishing without a trace.
He rubbed his forehead, still sore from the earlier practice and exertion. "Reminder: don't push too hard," he muttered, waiting for the faint, lingering discomfort in his head to fade.
Shaking his head once more, he turned his attention back to the machine, still humming steadily. His gaze lingered on it, a pensive, almost nostalgic expression crossing his face. This wasn't some ordinary piece of off-the-shelf technology.
It was something he had painstakingly crafted over the last decade—his greatest invention, the very tool that had allowed him to push the boundaries of biology and achieve his current breakthroughs.
The machine had a singular, crucial function: real-time simulation. In essence, it acted as a chamber capable of mimicking the human body's internal environment whenever a serum or biological agent was introduced.
It ran countless cycles, subjecting the sample to fluctuating body temperatures, shifting pH levels, immune system responses, and a wide range of stress factors.
In short, it was a device he had built to decipher and stabilize what he called the decay rate algorithm. And yes—strange as it sounded, that was very real, at least in his field of work.
Put simply, the decay rate algorithm was a formula—an autocorrect for DNA. In cross-species genetics, the merging of two distinct genetic codes rarely came without conflict. They clashed constantly, each fighting for dominance.
Take the foreign sequence—Lizard DNA. If it ran too fast, instability followed, leading to collapse and unpredictable mutations. Too slow, and the result was rejection, degradation, inefficiency, and ultimately failure.
Think of DNA as a song, each cell humming in perfect rhythm. The lizard's genetic code, however, was another song entirely—set to a different tempo. Without correction, the result was discord: chaos, mutation, collapse.
The decay rate algorithm was the conductor's baton, forcing both melodies into a shared tempo. It didn't alter the tune itself—it simply made sure they stayed in harmony.
With every round of feedback, he learned more—what to change in the serum, what conditions were necessary to avoid rejection. For now, all he could do was wait for the first batch of results and decide what to act on.
But then Mark's words echoed in his mind. The healing serum. Yes, it was finished. It could regenerate limbs, restore organs, repair extreme brain damage, even mend spinal cord injuries. It was capable of handling most—if not all—diseases and sicknesses on the planet.
It could save countless lives, rebuild broken ones, and change the course of the world. But was he willing to let it? After all, he didn't owe the world anything. So why should he be the one to save it? Not to mention the risks that came with even trying.
He had no backing, no influence, no power—nothing to shield him from those who might come gunning for his head.
Sure, his uncle Nolan was a powerhouse beyond question. But that didn't guarantee safety—not every second of every day.
And who was to say such advancements hadn't already been achieved, hidden away from the public eye? If those in power had reasons to bury them, why would they hesitate to do the same to him?
Maybe, if he grew powerful enough, he could take the risk. Maybe.
Shaking off the spiral of thoughts, Noah pulled himself back to the present. The serum was still running—he needed to check his progress.
"System," he called mentally.
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[Name: Noah Silver]
[Age: 17]
[Gender: Male]
[Height: 185 cm / 6'1"]
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[Abilities]
— Telekinesis — Lv.1
→ Status: Awakened | 46% XP to Lv.2
— Genius Intellect — Lv.6
→ Status: Master | 78% XP to Lv.7
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[System Functions]
— Ability Synthesis-Fusion
— Ability Upgrade
— Auto-Train (1/1)
— Mission
──────────────
[System Data]
— Daily Ability Refresh: 14h 52m
— Ability Points: 0
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'Halfway already, that is good progress,' Noah thought to himself, nodding in satisfaction. He was almost halfway there, and as much as he wanted to continue, he was in no shape to do so. For now, he would rest and recover his mental stamina; at that time, he could continue.
xXx
Hours slipped away unnoticed, and before long night was settling in. Noah sat slumped in his chair, fatigue etched across his face. He had to admit—his telekinetic ability was far more exhausting than he'd anticipated.
After his first hour of practice, he quickly discovered that restoring mental stamina was easier said than done. Even a short session left his mind feeling worn thin.
He had rested for an hour before returning to practice. This time, instead of merely keeping objects orbiting around him, he decided to push further—controlling a pen to write while maintaining the orbit.
What he expected to be simple proved to be anything but. Writing with his mind was nothing like writing by hand. The level of precision and focus it demanded drained him rapidly. He barely lasted thirty minutes before the strain forced him to stop, the aftereffects harsher than before.
Unlike the earlier session, this fatigue didn't fade quickly. It lingered, stretching on for hours before finally ebbing away.
By then, Noah knew he had to stop—not only because of the soreness and exhaustion, but also because he realized how drastically his work efficiency dropped after every practice.
So, for the sake of making at least some progress on the serum tomorrow, Noah decided to stop for the day.
Just as he was about to resume his research notes, a knock echoed at the door.
"Noah?" Debbie's voice called, tinged with concern. "You've been cooped up down there since morning. When do you plan on coming out?" She paused, then sighed softly. "Anyway… dinner's ready."
"I'll be right up," he answered quickly, brushing aside the exhaustion in his tone. His eyes drifted to the serum, and he let out a long breath before setting it aside. Another day with little to no progress.
"Hopefully I can make a breakthrough soon," he muttered, a faint tremor of fear threading through him at the thought of what lay ahead. His heart picked up its pace, heavy with unease.
Taking a moment to calm himself, he carefully cleaned the table and stored the serum. As much as he wanted the Sync Engine to keep running, it had its limits—it required constant input and couldn't operate indefinitely.
Still, for someone who had never been strong with machines, the fact that he had gotten it working at all was already an accomplishment.
Maybe progress would come later… once the next batch of live specimens arrived.
With a sharp click, the doors closed behind him. He gave his cheeks a brisk pat, forcing some energy back into himself, and headed toward the dining table where Nolan, Debbie, and Mark were already seated, sharing light conversation.
Walking over to his usual seat, Noah found his plate already waiting—a generous helping of spaghetti and meatballs, steam curling from the rich red sauce. He wasted no time digging in, twirling the spaghetti around his fork before stuffing it into his mouth. The sauce clung to his lips, evidence of just how hungry he was.
From across the table, Nolan chuckled, clearly amused. "Looks like someone's starving."
"Well, using your brain all day isn't exactly energy-conserving," Noah replied between bites, still focused on his food.
Nolan tilted his head, giving that some thought before nodding slowly. "I guess so." He let the silence linger for a moment, then leaned forward slightly. "So… how's your project coming along? Any progress?"
Noah froze mid-bite, weighing his words carefully. Two years ago, he had managed to convince Nolan to bring him Kaiju samples—an invaluable resource that had pushed his research forward.
The excuse he'd given was simple enough: he wanted to study and develop medicine capable of healing people, a way to better the world.
Nolan hadn't questioned it much at the time. If anything, there had been a faint glint in his eye when he agreed, a look Noah hadn't forgotten.
Shaking the thought off, Noah straightened in his seat and answered. "I'm this close to a breakthrough," he said, pinching his fingers together before spreading his hands apart. "It's right within my grasp. Maybe a couple of months… a year at most, and I'll be done." He gave a casual shrug, as if downplaying his own words.
Debbie smiled warmly at him, her expression a mixture of pride and admiration. "That's incredible, Noah. All that nonstop work might finally pay off."
"That's really cool," Mark chimed in, a grin plastered across his face. "So, like… what can the serum actually heal? I know you said it could, but just how much?" His curiosity pushed past the sharp glare Noah shot him.
Meeting Debbie's expectant gaze, Noah finally sighed and relented. "The serum should be able to regrow lost limbs, treat spinal cord injuries, repair brain damage, restore failing organs, cure diseases… The rest is still uncharted territory."
Debbie's eyes widened slightly. "That's already incredible," she said, clearly impressed. Even though she had always known Noah was a genius, the scope of what he was describing went beyond her expectations.
Medicine that could give mobility back to the paralyzed, restore the disabled, and cure illnesses thought impossible—it was groundbreaking. Even without any background in medicine, she couldn't fully wrap her head around just how monumental it could be.
Mark gave a quick nod, his eyes dropping back to his plate as he twirled his fork to avoid Noah's piercing gaze.
This brat… trying to play smart with me, Noah thought, easily catching on to Mark's attempt to pry information.
Across the table, Nolan seemed oddly distant, lost in thought. His gaze was unfocused, his mind clearly elsewhere. It wasn't until Debbie nudged his arm that he blinked back to the present. "Good," he said simply. "You'll be able to help a lot of people."
Dinner passed quickly after that. Once the table cleared, Noah excused himself and slipped back to his room. With the day's exertion still weighing heavily on him, he didn't bother with anything else. He collapsed onto his bed, and within moments, his consciousness drifted away.