Morning light filtered through the window as Michael stepped out of his VR capsule, stretching his stiff muscles. He made his way to the kitchen, finding his younger sister, Mira, casually munching on cereal while scrolling through her phone.
The moment she saw him, her face lit up with a mischievous smirk. Setting her phone down, she greeted him with mock enthusiasm.
"Look who decided to join us in the real world! So, how was it? Can you break boulders now? Smash mountains?"
Michael rolled his eyes, unamused. "I just started. Do you think I’ve turned into some superhero overnight? I’m barely an F-grade evolver. Wait a few years before you start making jokes."
Mira scoffed, undeterred. "Hah! If this lady were an evolver, she’d already be smashing spaceships left and right. Don’t tell me you’re already getting lazy just because you leveled up a bit."
Ignoring her increasingly outrageous remarks, Michael turned to the counter and began preparing his breakfast. As usual, he kept it simple but nutritious: green tea, eggs, bread, and some fruit. While stats mattered in his new reality, he knew the importance of maintaining a healthy diet in the real world.
"Can I come with you to the gym?" Mira asked suddenly. Her school was still on holiday, and Michael saw no reason to refuse her.
"You can," he replied. "But don’t do anything stupid while you’re there, and we’ll be fine."
Mira’s response was to swipe a piece of bread and an apple from his plate. Michael rolled his eyes, but ultimately let it slide. She’s lucky she’s my sister and she is cute… he thought, exasperated.
THE GYM SESSION
The siblings left early, walking to the Argonaut Martial Gym since Michael didn’t own a car. Upon arrival, he greeted the familiar pretty receptionist with a polite smile.
"Here’s my membership card," he said, then turned to Mira. "Give her yours too, and let’s go."
Mira hesitated briefly, clearly nervous. Though outgoing at home, she struggled with social anxiety around strangers. Still, she managed to hand over her card without incident. Their gym memberships were part of a city-sponsored program for aspiring youths, which helped alleviate some of their financial burden.
Once inside, they went their separate ways. Mira joined a friend she’d spotted near the entrance, while Michael headed to the weights area to test his limits.
Starting with a modest barbell, he performed a clean lift with his left arm, bringing it above his head in one smooth motion. Too light. He continued increasing the weight until he reached his limit—170 kg (375 lbs)—with both arms. He felt a sense of satisfaction. After evolving to level 4, he had allocated 12 attribute points into strength and constitution, and the results were evident.
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Moving to the treadmill, he measured his maximum speed: 47 km/h (29 mph). Pleased with his progress, Michael was ready for the final part of his session: sparring.
Unable to afford an instructor, he planned to use the training dummies again. However, as he approached the sparring area, a voice interrupted him.
"Michael, there you are. I see you’re heading to the sparring zone. Let me be your partner this time."
Michael turned, mildly surprised by the challenge. The voice belonged to none other than Frank Hicks, an athletic youth with medium-length hair and a wild aura. His presence radiated an oppressive pressure that immediately put Michael on guard.
"I’ve made some progress in martial arts recently," Frank said with a smirk. "I’d like to test my strength. You’re looking for a sparring partner, right? Let’s see what you’ve got."
Michael frowned. Frank’s tone was confident, almost hostile. There was no reason to accept this challenge. Frank clearly had resources and training far superior to his own, and Michael had nothing to gain from this duel—only the risk of injury.
"Sorry, but I already have a sparring partner lined up," Michael replied coolly. "She’ll be here any minute. You should find someone else."
He turned to leave, but Frank wasn’t about to let him walk away. He had gone to great lengths to orchestrate this encounter, even bribing a classmate for Michael’s schedule. His friends were here too, ready to taunt and humiliate Michael if things went their way.
"What’s the matter? Afraid?" Frank sneered. "Mister First Class doesn’t even have the guts to face me? Or are you just too arrogant to acknowledge me?"
The taunts from Frank’s friends started almost immediately.
" An incapable is an incapable, after all. He got a trash talent, and now he is too embarrassed to show his prowess."
"He gets insulted, and he doesn't even fight back. Guess he is a wimp. Quite laughable that they gave him that invitation to Nirvana. Guess the standards are not quite the same."
"Maybe he needs an advantage. Frank should fight with one arm, close one eye, and not wear armor."
Michael’s expression remained impassive, though their words didn’t affect him. That was until one comment cut deeper than the rest.
"Trash will always produce trash. No matter the opportunity, reality doesn’t change."
He stopped, turning back to face Frank. "Don’t you have enough resources already?" he said with disdain. "Your family probably handed you potions, armor, weapons, and power-leveling services on a silver platter. What do you have to prove by challenging me?"
Frank bristled at the accusation but didn’t deny it. It was true that his D-rank talent, Dark Pressure, had earned him the full support of his family. However, none of that diminished his desire to fight Michael.
Michael continued, his tone cold. "Here’s the deal: give me 15 days, and I’ll fight you. But it’ll be in a VR capsule, using the duel application. I’m not getting injured for this pissing contest. Also, you are the one who insists on this duel, and you are the one who has something to prove, so you owe me 100,000 credits if I win."
Frank opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a new voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"If you can’t wait, I’ll fight you in his stead," the voice said, calm yet commanding. "But I should warn you—my fists won’t be soft."
Frank stiffened, a chill running down his spine. He hadn’t sensed anyone approaching until the voice was right behind him. He turned to find a striking young woman standing there.
She was a brunette with bright, crystal-clear eyes, a petite nose, and cherry-red lips. Her athletic figure, toned and powerful, gave off the impression of an Olympic volleyball player. Despite her beauty, there was an undeniable menace in her stance.
Frank’s six senses screamed at him to be cautious. The air around her radiated pressure far stronger than his own. As his eyes lingered on her for too long, a wave of killing intent washed over him, freezing him in place.
Michael smirked slightly. "Annabelle. You’re right on time."