He dressed in silence. Gym clothes. Running shoes. The last vial of Lena’s latest batch, its pale blue contents glowing faintly in the dark.
"She’s good. I didn’t expect her potions to be as effective as those from the academy store."
The gym was empty, as it always was at this hour. If it was empty at five, it would definitely be empty at four in the morning. The fluorescent lights humd overhead, the equipnt waiting in neat rows, and the rubber mats still scuffed from yesterday’s sessions.
Damon skipped his warm-up entirely.
He went straight to the bench press and loaded the bar with eighty kilograms.
A month ago, the weight would have crushed him.
Now it still felt heavy, but no longer impossible.
He lay back.
Gripped the bar.
And pressed.
One rep, two reps, five reps, ten reps.
Continuing for multiple sets.
He racked the bar and moved on to the dumbbells, then the pull-up bar, then the squat rack. He ran through every part of his routine without pause, without rest, his body moving on instinct sharpened by hundreds of repetitions.
Sweat soaked through his shirt. His muscles burned. His lungs dragged for air. But after enduring that feeling so many tis, it no longer unsettled him.
[TTASK PROGRESS: 99.7%]
"Co on," he growled. "Co on."
He dropped to the mat and began doing push-ups. He made it to forty before his arms started to shake and the familiar edge of failure crept in. Still, he forced himself past it, reaching sixty before collapsing fully into the strain.
But it definitely still felt like hell.
[TASK PROGRESS: 99.9%]
Damon fell onto the mat, chest heaving, arms slack at his sides. He couldn’t do another rep. Couldn’t lift another weight.
He had driven his body as far as it would go, and the number still refused to turn over.
"Damn it..."
The number didn’t budge from [99.9%]. It stayed frozen there, and he couldn’t help but think of the way his old blue screen used to mock him.
He stayed where he was, sweat cooling against the rubber mat, and tried to think through the haze. What was he missing? He had pushed harder than ever.
Trained four tis a day. Burned through potions until even his savings had started to hurt.
And still that last tenth of a percent would not move.
Maybe it wasn’t about muscle.
He dragged himself upright, grabbed his bag, and headed for the door. Outside, the first light of morning was beginning to spill over the academy walls.
He would try sothing else. Food, maybe. A shower. Sleep. Perhaps the number would tick over on its own, the way the passive gains always had.
The corridor beyond the gym was empty, far too early even for the most dedicated students. His footsteps echoed against the stone walls, a solitary rhythm matching the pulse still pounding behind his eyes.
Then soone stepped into his path.
"You’re up early, Persival."
Matthew Voss.
This ti, he was alone.
No lackeys. No audience. Just Matthew leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, the faint shimr of [STEEL SENTINEL] rippling across his skin.
Damon ca to a stop. "What do you want?"
"Heard you’ve been living in the gym. Thought I’d see it for myself."
Matthew pushed off the wall and began circling slowly.
"You’ve put on so muscle, I’ll give you that. But we both know muscle doesn’t matter. Not for people like you."
"I’m not in the mood, Matthew."
"Not in the mood?" Matthew’s grin sharpened. "That’s funny. Because I’ve been in the mood for weeks. Ever since you decided to grow a spine in that hallway."
Damon’s jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
A month ago, he would have stayed quiet.
Taken it.
Walked away.
The trouble wouldn’t have felt worth it.
But a month ago, he had not watched that number rise from zero to almost one hundred. A month ago, he had not earned every fraction of a percent with his own sweat and pain.
And right now, with his progress stalled at the final possible mont, his patience was hanging by a thread.
"Move," Damon said quietly.
"Make ."
The words settled between them.
Damon’s system pulsed.
He hadn’t called it. It ca on its own, just as it always did, the golden screen flaring into view at the edge of his vision.
[ANALYZING HOST RESOLVE...]
[HOST HAS DEMONSTRATED WILLINGNESS TO STAND AGAINST SUPERIOR OPPONENT]
[FINAL PARATER T]
[TASK COMPLETE: WORKOUT]
[PROGRESS: 100.0%]
The golden screen blazed.
Damon’s breath caught as heat flooded through him, into his chest, his arms, his legs, sinking into every muscle and every bone. It was nothing like the gentle warmth of the potions.
This felt like molten tal pouring through his veins, hot enough to burn him from the inside out. Sohow, though, even with every nerve in his body screaming, he found himself unable to cry out.
[PHYSICAL REQUIRENTS T]
[CLASS UNLOCKED: SOVEREIGN]
Matthew took a step forward. "What’s the matter? You’re just standing there. I thought you wanted to—"
He stopped.
The golden light wasn’t just on Damon’s screen anymore. It was bleeding into the air around him, faint threads of warmth visible even in the fluorescent glow of the corridor.
Matthew’s eyes widened.
"What the hell—"
[CLASS: SOVEREIGN - ACTIVE]
[INITIALIZING STAT FRAWORK...]
The screen fractured and rebuilt itself. Lines of text scrolled faster than Damon could read, the old mocking interface dissolving into sothing structured. Sothing built for combat.
[STARTING STATS ESTABLISHED]
[STR: 15] — [PHYSICAL POWER. DETERMINES LEE DAMAGE AND INVENTORY CAPACITY.]
[AGI: 12] — [SPEED AND COORDINATION. DETERMINES MOVENT AND ATTACK SPEED.]
[VIT: 14] — [ENDURANCE AND DURABILITY. DETERMINES HEALTH AND RESISTANCE.]
[MAG: 18] — [MAGIC POWER. DETERMINES MANA CAPACITY AND SKILL STRENGTH.]
[CURRENT LEVEL: 1]
[STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 5]
[CLASS BONUS: 2 ALL STATS UPON AWAKENING]
The numbers settled into his mind like they’d always been there. He could feel them, not just as data, but as sothing real, sothing that changed his body.
His arms felt stronger, his stance lighter, and his senses sharper, until even the distant hum of the gym’s fluorescent lights stood out, clear and distinct.
[ABILITIES UNLOCKING...]
[ABILITY 1: SOVEREIGN’S STRIKE - ACTIVE]
[EFFECT: CHANNELS ENERGY INTO A SINGLE PHYSICAL BLOW. DEALS INCREASED DAMAGE BASED ON STR. COST: 20 MANA.]
[ABILITY 2: SOVEREIGN’S LEADERSHIP - PASSIVE]
[EFFECT: GRANTS ONE SKILL FROM ANY SUBORDINATE TO THE SOVEREIGN (CAN REPLACE CHOICE EVERY MONTH). COST: 0 MANA.]
[ABILITY 3: LOCKED - LEVEL 5 REQUIRED]
[ABILITY 4: LOCKED - LEVEL 10 REQUIRED]
[ADDITIONAL ABILITIES LOCKED - UNLOCK AT HIGHER LEVELS]
Matthew took a step back. "You... your system. It’s working?"
Damon lowered his eyes to his hands. The golden light had begun to fade, but the warmth remained, along with the strength.
"Yeah," he said. "It’s working."
Matthew’s shock twisted into sothing uglier. The shimr of [Steel Sentinel] intensified, his passive armor thickening until his whole body, everything except his head, seed to take on a silver sheen.
"Doesn’t matter. You’re still nothing. One working day doesn’t make up for two years of—"
"Move."
This ti, the word ca out differently.
Not a dismissal.
A command.
Matthew’s mouth opened, then closed. He was still a B-Rank. Still stronger on paper. Still holding every statistical advantage.
And yet sothing in Damon’s posture, in the fading glow clinging to his shoulders, made him hesitate.
Only for a mont.
Then Matthew snickered.
"Heh. I think I like this version of you more. It’s a lot more fun beating up an opponent who can actually fight back."
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