Chapter 3

Focusing back on the potion in his hand, Cier's expression grew serious.

The awakening potion was known to help people unlock their innate abilities, but the process was notoriously painful. It was said the pain could be so intense that many lost consciousness, and if that happened, the awakening might fail entirely. For Cier, failure wasn't an option—he didn't have the resources to buy another potion anytime soon.

He had heard of more potent awakening potions, ones that almost guaranteed success. But those were monopolized by the upper classes, far beyond the reach of someone like him.

Shaking his head to dispel the thought, he closed his eyes, gripped the bottle tightly, and gulped down the potion in one go.

The liquid had a peculiar taste—a mix of sweet mint—but before he could fully swallow it, it transformed into a vapor and spread through his body.

Almost immediately, Cier's body heated up unbearably, and an overwhelming wave of pain struck him like a storm. His vision blurred as agony seared through his mind. With a desperate move, he shoved a cloth into his mouth, biting down hard to stifle his screams.

The pain was unimaginable—it felt as if every bone in his body was breaking, every artery bursting. His fingernails dug deeply into his palms, drawing blood, as he fought against the urge to give in.

Through the haze of torment, a small part of his mind remained clear, urging him to stay awake, no matter what.

The excruciating moments stretched on for what felt like an eternity, though it was only a few minutes. Then, finally, the pain began to fade. In its place, a surge of raw power coursed through his body, a strength unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Before he could fully embrace his newfound strength, a flood of information surged into his mind. For a moment, Cier stood in a daze, overwhelmed by the sudden influx.

When he regained his senses, he extended his hand as if testing something. A transparent, thread-like string shot out from his finger, gleaming faintly in the dim light.

"The Puppet," he muttered, realization dawning on him. This was the name of the ability he had awakened. As its name suggested, the ability revolved around manipulating puppet-like logic, with the strings being the first example of its power.

Recalling what he had overheard in the past, he murmured to himself, "So, by the classifications I've heard, I've become a first-layer evolver—someone whose soul and body have begun to interact with supernatural forces, initiating evolution."

Glancing down at his sweat-drenched and bloodied appearance, he frowned and decided to clean himself up.

After refreshing himself, he returned to his room and crouched by his bed. Sliding his hand underneath, he began to lift it. Though shabby-looking, the bed was sturdy and heavier than it appeared. Before, he would have been gasping for breath trying to lift it. Now, it felt like a simple task, requiring only a fraction of his effort.

Carefully setting the bed down, he stared at his hands in quiet amazement. "My body strength has at least doubled. Even with just this much, I could easily beat several grown men into a bloody mess."

He continued testing his newfound capabilities. Not only had his strength increased significantly, but his agility, constitution, and even his cognitive abilities had improved by more than half of what they were before.

Cier couldn't help but smirk faintly. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope—a step forward in a world that had only tried to beat him down.

After further testing his abilities, Cier discovered he could extend the thread to a range of around 100 meters in all directions. Each finger could produce one thread at a time, allowing him to control a total of ten threads simultaneously. He also found that the threads were strong enough to hold small objects weighing approximately 9 to 10 kilograms.

Wanting to experiment further, Cier quietly stepped out of his house. Spotting a stray cat sleeping a few meters away, he decided to test the threads on it. Extending a single thread, he attached it to the cat's front claw. Immediately, he felt a strange connection, almost as if he could sense and control the limb.

With a focused effort, he tried lifting the claw, and it moved upward without the cat even waking up. Intrigued, he sent another thread toward the cat, aiming to gain further control. However, he was disappointed to find that only one more thread could attach, making a total of two threads. Any further attempts to add more threads failed.

"So, I can control two parts of a living being at most. With ten threads, that means I could manipulate up to five people at the same time," Cier muttered to himself, analyzing his newfound capability.

A sense of satisfaction filled him as he retracted the threads. "Now I have a little power to protect myself," he thought, his mind drifting toward old wounds. He couldn't help but recall the Lizardborn gang—the ones responsible for his mother's death and his suffering. Then there was the supervisor who had mercilessly killed his father.

His fists clenched tightly as his resolve grew stronger. For years, he had been powerless, unable to even consider facing them. But now, with this new strength, he felt he had a chance to fight back.

Living in this cruel environment had taught him two important lessons: "An eye for an eye" and "Keep your head down when you lack power." With his awakening, he no longer had to live by the latter. It was time to rise and repay old debts.

With that thought, a dangerous gleam flashed in his eyes, reflecting the deep-seated anger and determination buried within him. It was not just a desire for revenge but a vow to rise above the chains of his past, no matter the cost.

As the weight of his plans settled in his mind, Cier decided to rest for the night. He cleaned himself up, lit the small lamp by his bed, and let his thoughts drift as he stared at the dim ceiling. The silence of the room offered a brief moment of clarity, and he felt the exhaustion from the day creeping up on him. Knowing he needed his strength for what lay ahead, he finally closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take over.

The next morning, Cier woke up early, the faint rays of dawn filtering through the cracks in his window. Shaking off the remnants of sleep, he washed quickly, the cold water jolting him fully awake.

Coming out, he quickly locked his house, ensuring the place was secure. He grabbed a few coins from his stash, tucking them into his pocket, and stepped out onto the dimly lit streets. The stray cat remained undisturbed, still soundly asleep where it lay, oblivious to Cier's silent departure.