Back Then, Before the Power
Brian returned to the office with the thousand bucks. As he passed by Colin’s door, he slowed down and gave a casual greeting.
“Hey, Colin. You doing alright?”
Colin didn’t even look up. He sat there, leaned back in his chair, legs crossed. His voice came out light—flat, distant.
“Good. Thanks.”
That was it.
His tone wasn’t rude, but there was a kind of wall behind it. A quiet authority. Maybe even boredom. Like everything around him was just mildly dull.
———
Later that night, Brian dragged his tired body back home.
He stripped off his tank top and lazily flung it toward the washing machine. It missed and landed right in the trash can next to it. He didn’t even flinch. Whatever.
He dropped onto his couch, arms folded behind his head. One foot kicked up over the top cushion, the other lying flat. Just breathing. Not asleep. Just… out of energy.
His eyes burned.
He’d overused the golden eyes today. The flickering, scanning, pulsing light—no matter how sharp they looked to others, they drained him fast. He closed his eyes, not to sleep, but just to shut everything out. To let the strain fade a little.
His mind started drifting.
By now, he was making tens of thousands a month. He was a higher-up at a publicly traded company. His name had weight. His career was solid.
And yet… it all seemed to trace back to one person.
Colin.
The one who gave him a shot. Who pulled him up the ladder. Who saw something in him back then, and kept opening doors.
Brian stared up at the ceiling.
They went way back—years before the titles, the suits, the golden techniques. Back to when they were just two skinny kids at some average elementary school.
He could still picture the playground. Sunlight. Dust. Colin’s goofy little run. The way they’d chase each other across the field like idiots, laughing so hard their sides hurt.
No status. No pressure. Just freedom.
The Giant in First Grade
It started with a memory.
Back on that elementary school field—dust in the air, sun blazing down—Colin and a bunch of kids were just messing around after lunch. Everything was innocent, normal. Until he showed up.
A massive kid walked onto the field.
Same grade, supposedly. But this kid? Easily five feet tall—at least twice the size of everyone else. Nobody knew if it was genetics, hormones, or just too much steak at home. He looked like a middle schooler who got lost.
His name? Brian couldn’t remember. Not even a hint. So for now, let’s just call him Dudu—short for “douchebag.”
Dudu didn’t talk much. He didn’t need to.
He walked straight over to Colin.
No warning, no reason—just started picking on him. Maybe it was Colin’s face. Maybe it was the way he stood. Who knows. But Colin didn’t back down. He threw a few punches—fast little swings from a scrawny first grader.
Didn’t land a single one.
Dudu, with zero effort, lifted a leg and kicked Colin so hard he flew ten feet across the playground. Slammed into the dirt. A moment later—blood.
Brian didn’t even think.
He just ran in. Full sprint. No hesitation.
He leapt at Dudu and started swinging like a madman. It actually turned into a fight—ten, maybe fifteen rounds. Brian wasn’t bad for a kid.
But the ending was the same.
One kick. Ten feet. Blood.
Now both of them were lying there, side by side, wheezing on the ground. Faces smeared with dirt, blood in their mouths, no pride left to speak of.
And Dudu… that monster… he started walking toward them.
Slow. Heavy steps.
Like some kind of schoolyard god of destruction. No mercy. No logic. Just force.
Unstoppable.
Gold in the Dirt
Dudu stood over them like a king, sneering down at their broken little bodies.
“You two weaklings are pathetic,” he laughed, loud and nasty. “I could beat both of you into a pile of crap—with one hand!”
He didn’t even have to gesture. Ten feet behind him sat a real pile of dog shit—fresh, fat, and steaming under the sun. Flies were buzzing around it like they’d been invited to a buffet. Honestly? The whole thing needed a censor blur.
Colin stood up.
Slowly. Stiffly. He brushed the dirt off his shirt. Not for pride—just instinct.
Brian tried to rise too, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. That last kick wrecked him. All he could do was lie there and watch.
Colin stepped forward.
Something shifted.
His body was small, but his focus sharpened like a blade. His brain kicked into overdrive—neurons firing like sparks inside a machine pushed past its limit. If you could see inside his head, it’d look like a supercomputer melting down from pure effort.
Then—just as a breeze passed—Colin smirked.
And said it.
“If you like shit so much… why don’t you go eat that one over there?”
The words weren’t just words.
As they left his mouth, golden energy shimmered in the air. Letters—real, glowing, golden English letters—came flying out like bullets. Like magic with punctuation.
They zipped straight toward Dudu and slammed into his chest.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then Brian’s eyes went wide.
He couldn’t believe it.
That was the first Golden Technique ever born in this world.
The very first one—Golden Speech.
Colin’s favorite move. His signature. The only technique on Earth that couldn’t be dodged, blocked, or reasoned with. The one that hit your mind harder than your body.
Brian didn’t say a word.
He just stared at Colin—
like he could see the next legend rising up from the dirt.
The Installation
Colin’s words didn’t just hit Dudu’s chest—they entered him.
The golden letters melted into his skin, then flowed through his nervous system like coded instructions. As they reached his brain, something eerie happened: the words turned into logic. Syntax. Belief.
The data etched itself into his brain’s storage system, altering his memory and rewriting his understanding. What had been a random insult now became a meaningful truth—one that made total sense to him.
His brain cells tried to resist.
They really did.
But… Dudu wasn’t exactly the sharpest kid in class. His neurons weren’t fast enough. His system lacked firewall.
So the logic slipped through.
Like clean code passing validation, the new belief installed itself and began running—flawlessly.
A few seconds passed.
Then, slowly, Dudu turned his head.
He saw the blurred object ten feet away. The pile.
The one with flies still buzzing over it.
Something clicked.
He remembered that smell. That… flavor. A nostalgic joy washed over him, like rediscovering your favorite childhood snack. It had been so long. So very long.
A smile spread across his face.
Without hesitation, he ran over, dropped to a squat in front of the pile, and reached out with both hands.
He picked it up like it was something sacred. Something beautiful.
Held it right under his nose and took a long, deep sniff.
“Mm…”
His whole face lit up with satisfaction.
Then—grinning—he raised it with both hands, like it was a fresh burger straight off the grill, and took a giant bite.
“OH YEAH!” he shouted, mouth full. “So GOOD!”
The Legend Begins Here
Dudu was still going at it—chewing, chomping, savoring.
His face was lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He took big, proud bites like he was eating a five-star meal.
And that’s when the screaming started.
The other kids—dozens of them—burst into chaos.
Shrieking, crying, tripping over each other, sprinting off the field like they were running from a monster.
Some yelled. Some just froze in shock. A few even threw up.
Teachers came running from all directions.
“WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”
Three adults tackled Dudu to the ground, trying to pry the rest of the blurred object from his hands. But Dudu wouldn’t let go. He thrashed like a wild animal, still trying to get that last disgusting bite in.
“I’M NOT DONE!” he screamed.
One teacher actually fainted.
By the time the school had fully descended into madness, both an ambulance and a psychiatric van were pulling up to the front gate.
Sirens howled.
Someone shouted over the loudspeaker for all students to return to their classrooms and avoid looking out the windows.
———
But on the edge of the field, away from the noise, two small boys stood quietly.
Colin smiled.
It wasn’t smug.
It wasn’t proud.
It was… innocent.
A soft, dreamy grin—like something out of a storybook. Almost angelic.
He walked over and held out a hand.
Brian looked up, still aching, still stunned. He reached out and grabbed Colin’s hand.
Colin helped him up.
Without a word, the two of them turned and started walking.
Colin gently supported him, one arm over Brian’s shoulder.
Together, they made their way back toward the classroom—like none of the chaos had ever happened.
———
Back in class, the bell rang like nothing was wrong.
Colin sat in front of Brian, quietly turning around in his seat.
He stared at Brian for a long second, eyes scanning up and down—like he was evaluating something.
Then, with total confidence, Colin said:
“Brian, your eyes are really big. And honestly, you’re pretty good-looking. Almost as handsome as me. Maybe slightly less.”
He grinned.
“But I think you’re smart too. Like… really smart. High IQ. You’ve definitely got what it takes to learn a Golden Technique.”
Brian blinked. “What?”
Colin leaned in just a little.
“You should try the Golden Eyes. I think it suits you.”
And just like that, the seed was planted.
Brian lit up.
“YEAH!!” he shouted, jumping to his feet.
“I’m gonna train my own Golden Technique! One that’s totally mine!”
He jumped again, spinning around in pure excitement.
The entire class turned to stare.
Kids blinked. A few whispered. Most looked confused.
Nobody knew why Brian was so hyped all of a sudden—why he was dancing in the middle of the room like he’d won the lottery.
But Brian didn’t care.
He didn’t hear their whispers.
Didn’t notice their stares.
He was too busy being happy.
Simple, dumb, honest joy.
When Roads Diverge
After that day, Dudu was never seen again.
Some said he moved to another city. Others whispered he was checked into a lunatic asylum deep in the hills.
No one really knew.
No one really asked.
———
Time passed fast.
Brian finished elementary school, then middle school. And through all those years… he still hadn’t mastered the Golden Eyes.
He tried. He believed. But it never came.
Meanwhile, Colin had gone far—very far.
He kept developing his Golden Techniques. What started as one strange, brilliant ability had grown into a whole system—dozens of unique moves.
Golden Eyes.
Golden Tongue.
Golden Bow.
Even one called Golden Dick.
(Yes. That exists. Nobody talks about it, but it’s real.)
Colin was no longer just some gifted kid. He became a man with power, mystery, and reach. The kind people whispered about, the kind that didn’t need to prove anything anymore.
And Brian?
He and Colin—childhood best friends, BFFs, inseparable—slowly drifted apart.
Different schools. Different paths. Different lives.
Colin changed.
From that innocent, sharp-eyed boy on the playground, he became someone colder. More distant. Maybe even arrogant.
But maybe that was what power did to people. Or maybe it was just the way the world worked.
Colin eventually built his own company—Humble Inc.—which later evolved into the powerhouse known as Humble Organization.
And because of their shared past, Colin gave Brian a seat at the table. No questions asked.
Of course, Brian wasn’t just a charity case. He earned his place.
He worked hard. He had talent. He got things done.
But that childhood connection?
That mattered too.
———
Brian sat on the couch.
Eyes open now. Mind still floating somewhere in the past.
He exhaled.
Then blinked.
“…Should I just make instant noodles today?” he muttered. “Or go get McDonald’s?”
He thought about it for a second.
Then stood up.
———
A few minutes later, Brian stepped out into the street.
Shirtless.
Totally forgot to put one on.
But he didn’t care.
All those years at the gym had paid off—his body was lean, toned, and pretty damn sexy.
As he walked down the block toward McDonald’s, more than a few women turned to look.
Some did double takes.
One nearly walked into a parking meter.
Brian didn’t notice.
Or maybe… he did.
———
He turned down a small side street.
That’s when someone passed him—a really short guy, barely five feet tall.
Brian blinked.
Something about that guy felt… familiar.
Then it hit him.
Dudu.
After all these years—he hadn’t grown an inch.
Turns out, Dudu wasn’t a giant back then.
He’d just hit puberty early… and then stopped.
Before Brian could even call out his name, Dudu slipped into a nearby alley.
Then came the sounds.
Thuds.
Kicks.
Fists landing on flesh.
And Dudu’s voice—strained and desperate:
“Please! Don’t hurt me! I’ll give you everything I have! I swear—just don’t hit me anymore!”