Situated within a freshly painted building featuring a neon logo of a curled bicep, the gym was well within walking distance from my apartment, and was filled with a large number of men and women. Luckily, there were enough machines for me to have a go at all of them after I registered for a free trial at the front desk. The attendant there, who doubled as a coach, was nice enough to show me the basics of each machine and provide me with a general workout plan.

I’d changed into a wifebeater shirt and baggy pants before coming here, which was probably the best thing I could wear for working up a sweat. Of course, I got strange looks from the other gym goers, who were dressed in gaudy spandex and leg warmers on account of it being 1980. But with the amount of sweat that could flow out of my pores when I was stressed, I was pretty sure a workout would have been enough to leave the colors on any gaudy leotard running.

I spent about half an hour cycling between various exercise machines. The constant repetition, the raising and lowering of an arm here and a leg there, helped me let go of some of my worries. At least the smaller ones, like Goldshanks’ tournament.

As for my larger fears, the effort I was putting into my workout let me feel productive, that I was working towards properly getting strong enough to face them. But if that missionary kid barged into the gym right now and came at me…

I froze on the machine, and let the counter-weight push my arms back into the starting position. I sat there for half a minute until a waiting gym goer asked me if I was finished.

I slowly nodded and got up.

If I wanted to actually get strong, I had to push myself. The latest book I read said System users gained extra points in an attribute if they passed some kind of threshold of use, and while I likely missed out on many of these stat boosts for my early levels, I wasn’t going to let that happen now.

I approached a metal rod and slowly lifted it into the air in a deadlift. It wasn’t that heavy, and it stayed aloft for a good ten seconds before gently placing it down. Well, I started slow, but then inadvertently slammed it onto the ground as I approached the last few inches. A few looks came my way, but they abated when they saw my form hunched over the bar in proper, polite form.

The bar had to have been about fifty pounds. Not enough. I placed a pair of twenty five pound weights on either end and lifted the bar again. This time, it was also easy, not enough of a challenge. How was I supposed to get stronger if I couldn’t get a challenge?!

Another pair of weights went on, this time by an additional hundred pounds. I jerked the bar off the ground with the kind of form that would have made anyone with any knowledge of human anatomy wince. Permanent damage be damned, I had 18 Constitution.

“Hey buddy, you might throw out your back if you lift like that,” mumbled a man to the side. “You want me to show you how to do it?”

He was big. He had dark brown skin and a buzz cut across his curly hair, and wore an XL-sized t-shirt half covered in sweat stains. Definitely a seasoned veteran of this place, and likely some kind of professional bodybuilder.

I gave him a wild look that made him reflexively take a step back. But seeing that reaction made me soften. “I’m just trying to blow off some steam,” I told him honestly.

“There are better ways to do it than fucking up your body,” he replied calmly. “Actually, how about a bench press? I can even spot you, if you’d like?”

“You know what? Sure, I appreciate it,” I said with a small smile.

As we made our way to the nearest weight rack, I looked to the other side of the gym and saw a similar setup, with its own series of benches and barbells. Just about all of the spots there were occupied by heavy lifters, but amongst the crowd, I thought I saw a mess of curly, black hair.

A throng of gym goers walked in between us before I could get a proper look at whoever it was, but the familiar ‘do made my heart skip a beat.

“Alright, you ready?” asked my gracious spotter.

I nodded and lied down onto the bench as the larger man began to add a series of smaller weights onto either end of the bar that hung above me. I saw a pair of twenty fives to start with.

“I think I’m going to need a bit more than that,” I said with a chuckle.

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“This is just so you can practice your form. Now pick it up and slowly lower it to your chest, and then push it back up.”

I shot an annoyed look at the bodybuilder for saying the obvious, but bit my tongue and did as he requested. It was boring, as the bar went down and back up. I looked back at him while my arms still effortlessly held it aloft.

“Fine fine, you’ve made your point,” he said as he reached down to grab a pair of fifties.

Once again, I lifted them without much difficulty, and demanded he push it up to two hundred.

“Damn, have you ever considered lifting competitively?”

“Huh? Not really.” I replied, my attention focused on the bar above me.

“I was just as skinny as you when I started, and you wouldn’t believe how surprised everyone was at my first competition when they saw how much I could lift!”

I grunted in acknowledgement as I began to push the bar back up, and the bodybuilder continued.

“Of course, I only got stronger after that, and by a lot! I’m hoping to go for the deadlift world record in about a month, actually.”

I lifted the bar as high as I could, and the talkative man grabbed and placed it back in its stand.

“Feel better?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, a lot. It’s like I forgot-”

A loud cheer from the other side of the gym erupted at that very moment and cut off my train of thought. Even the bodybuilder who was helping me took several steps towards the crowd forming in the distance to get a better look.

“O-oh damn, I just think someone sniped me from getting the world record…” he said with a tinge of remorse.

I quickly got up and tried to get a look myself, but there were too many taller people blocking my way. By the time enough of the crowd dissipated that I could squeeze myself far enough to see, whoever was lifting all of that weight was gone.

All that was left in their place was the bar loaded with several massive weights, and a single book left on the seat. Its leather cover had a raised feather on it.

“Hey, is the guy still here?” asked the bodybuilder as he came up behind me. He walked over to the bar and began to count the circular plates attached to either side and let out a long whistle. “Fifteen hundred pounds. Are these bars even rated to handle that much?”

I didn’t respond. My pale face was frozen in place, staring at the Book of Ultarian.

“Are you alright? You don’t look so good.”

“I-I think I know the guy.”

“Oh, then you can get his book back to him!”

“I wish I didn’t…”

“I met a guy who walked around with a book like that once, and I remember because you only see those books in churches.”

My head slowly turned to look at him.

“Made a fucking joke out of me when I told him lifting was all I wanted out of life. To get strong. He did something like this, but I thought it was all a dream or something.”

I took an unsteady breath. “Did he have black curly hair, pale skin, and a white button up shirt?”

“Y-yeah, exactly that.” For the first time, his confidence was shaken. “So I guess he was real, after all. Might need another month to break the record now.”

“At least he didn’t throw you through a door this morning. It was a miracle I could even walk afterwards.”

“And you still came here?! You’re fucking crazy, man.”

“This whole world is crazy,” I shrugged.

“You can say that again.” He let out a long, drawn out breath and looked back at me. “I’m Shovon, by the way.”

“Mi-Chuck. I’m Chuck.”

“It’s nice to meet you. You maybe want to work out together again? And… let me know if you see that guy again?”

“Sure, that might be a good idea.”

We exchanged phone numbers and went back to exercising, but we didn’t have it in us to go on for long. In the end, we parted ways and headed out, me to my car and him to wherever.

It wasn’t that late in the day, and there was still a full evening left, but I was out of steam. As much as I wanted to plan out some kind of contingency or way to fight against that missionary asshole, my brain was pretty much fried. I needed to relax.

But at the same time, I still had the urge to grind. I needed to get stronger, and the supposed supernatural showboating that happened here made me realize that I wouldn’t be able to match Strength with that thing even if I brought it up to 20! I needed to raise my other attributes up, maybe I’d be able to weaponize one of them once it was high enough? Charisma was already a powerhouse and beyond what was humanly capable, albeit with some massive drawbacks, but if I got that even higher, maybe I’d be able to use it on the missionary?

Once I was outside, my eyes wandered over to a billboard in the distance advertising a dance club. Eh, I wasn’t much of a dancer, but it sounded like the kind of place I’d get to talk to people and maybe even level up my Charisma… safely. Not to mention a nice place to relax after such a stressful day. That settled it then, I was heading to the club, but not before changing into something more appropriate than a sweaty wife beater.