QUEST COMPLETED! You have completed 100 push-ups, 100 squats, 100 sit-ups, and a 10km run!

You obtained 100 Stat Points!

“Hah…hah…”

I lie on the grass, completely spent, my breaths coming in rapid gasps.

It took three hours, but I finally completed all the exercises. Like the 10km run, I earn one point every five minutes, totaling 72 points—36 for Strength and 36 for Endurance.

"System… show me my status."

INFO Name: Dominic Eñerforte

Age: 15

Title: None STATS Strength: 61 (E)

Endurance: 72 (E)

Agility: 51 (E)

Speed: 62 (E)

Mana: 0 (F)

Luck: 402 (C+)

Instinct: 747 (A+)

Charisma: 362 (C)

Stat Points: 100 MANUAL ARTS Basic Gun Arts (D+) – Beginner

Basic Gun Arts encompass a wide range of basic combat techniques involving the use of firearms from range to melee. This art form requires not just physical dexterity to shoot and maneuver accurately but also a deep understanding of the firearms themselves—maintenance, bullet types, and the physics of shooting.

My stats have improved slightly, but I know I can enhance them further with the 100 Stat Points I earned. Opting for a balanced approach, I decided to distribute them equally.

"Add 25 each for Strength, Endurance, Speed, and Agility."

Strength: 61 > 86 (E)

Endurance: 72 > 97 (E)

Agility: 51 > 76 (E)

Speed: 62 > 87 (E)

The changes make me feel lighter, somehow more capable, and ready to face whatever comes next. The satisfaction of making progress is undeniable—a feeling of preparedness for the future.

-Growl!

My stomach's complaint snaps me back to the present. While training and focusing on my stats, I have forgotten about breakfast.

"Dominic, the exercise is done. Rest for now as I take a shower," André announces.

I respond with a tired thumbs-up as I am too exhausted to speak.

"Hey, Doms."

Arthur's voice draws my attention as he approaches with a tray laden with fresh baguette, jam, and, to the side, what appears to be yogurt.

"Hey, thanks for the food," I manage, genuine gratitude.

Arthur's return smile is warm. "No problem, you deserve it after that intense workout."

I sit up to accept the tray, immediately taking a bite of the baguette.

-Munch!

The food is as delicious as I hope, a perfect way to replenish after the morning's exertions.

Arthur sits beside me, and we enjoy the comfortable silence for a moment. This kind only comes with good company.

-Munch!

However, given my current state, my eating is anything but quiet. Still, it is a small price to pay for the comfort and camaraderie of sharing a meal with a friend after such a grueling morning.

"Wow, Doms, you look a bit more muscular."

Arthur's hands touch my arm, which is too close for comfort. I need to get used to his touchy nature.

"Doms, when did you start exercising? I swear you looked nothing like this yesterday."

His tone is one of genuine surprise. From Arthur's perspective, Dominic has always been skinnier, so my newfound muscularity is bound to raise eyebrows.

Caught between the truth and the need for secrecy about the System, I opt for a half-truth.

"Well, I've been training for a week and usually wear long sleeves to cover my arms."

"I see," Arthur responds, seemingly satisfied with my explanation. "Give me your arm, Doms; let's compare our muscles," he then says, extending his arm toward me.

His request surprises me, but seeing no harm in it, I comply, offering my arm for comparison.

Arthur's muscles are indeed larger, but the gap between us isn't as wide as I expected. It indicates that the System's influence is accelerating my physical development at an unusual pace.

"Sheesh, look at you, Doms. Looks like the ladies are going to talk to you after this."

I quickly shake my head, dismissing the notion.

My focus isn't on relationships or social distractions; I am fully committed to preparing for the upcoming challenges of this webnov—er, the world that has become my reality.

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"Even if they talk to me, I won't talk back. For now, I must train to become a Stargate Raider."

Arthur observes me for a moment, and his intense gaze is unnerving. I can't decipher his thinking, and the scrutiny makes me uncomfortable.

Then, unexpectedly, his expression shifts to a smirk.

"Okay, Mr. Serious Training."

So, that is going to be my new nickname? I have moved from simply 'Doms' to 'Mr. Serious Training'.

While the nickname is a bit on the nose, it underscores my dedication to my goal, even if it means being ribbed by Arthur for my single-mindedness.

"Whatever, Pretty Boy," I retort, trying to match his teasing with mine.

Arthur's smirk widens as he leans closer, his hand reaching out to tilt my chin upward, bringing our faces alarmingly close.

"Oh, you're admitting that I'm pretty?" he challenges, his tone playful yet daring.

His boldness takes me by surprise. While his confidence is nothing new, this level of directness is. It is amusing, considering our usual banter.

"Hahahaha!" I laugh, gently pushing him away to regain some personal space. "Y-you look ridiculous!"

There is a moment of silence; then I hear a soft "Oh..." from Arthur. His voice carries a hint of sadness, starkly contrasting to the playful banter just seconds before.

Has my joke gone too far? In my attempt to keep the mood light, I might have accidentally crossed a line.

"Hey, Arthur, I was just joking."

I quickly added, hoping to lighten the mood and reassure him that my comment was in jest and not meant to be taken seriously.

Arthur's momentary show of sadness swiftly transforms into a sly smirk.

"Hahahah! You fell for it, Doms!"

Caught off guard, I realize his apparent sadness was just an act. Arthur's knack for mischief had caught me completely by surprise.

"You little—"

-Beep!

The sound of a car horn cuts off my retort. Turning my attention toward the source, I spot a limo with golden accents parked right in front of the house.

I wonder who owns that limo.

"Oh, looks like my butler came to get me."

Arthur's tone shifts back to one of sadness.

Observing the change in his demeanor, I remember our conversations about his family issues. It strikes me then that more profound, more complex feelings about his home life lie behind Arthur's playful exterior.

Arthur stands up, his expression somber as he faces me.

"See you on Monday, Doms."

His farewell is simple, but the weight behind it is palpable. It reminds us of the contrasts in our lives—the freedom and camaraderie we share here versus the constraints and expectations Arthur faces at home.

As he walks towards the limo, a part of me wishes there was more I could do to ease his burdens. Yet, for now, all I can offer is my friendship and the promise of continued support.

"See you, Arthur. Take care."

I call after him, hoping to convey a sense of solidarity.

As Arthur's butler opens the limo door for him, I watch my friend disappear into the vehicle before it glides away. The departure is swift, leaving a quiet void in its wake.

"Hey, Dominic."

I spin around at the sound of André's voice, noticing he approaches with a device resembling a smartphone.

"Your Commlink kept ringing."

A Commlink? The realization that Dominic—or rather, I—own one is news to me. Unlike regular smartphones, Commlinks are powered by Aether, affording them infinite battery life—a marvel of technology and magic combined.

"Dad, who kept calling me?"

Curiosity gets the better of me, wondering who might be trying to reach me so persistently.

“Maurice...” André hands over the Commlink.

Professor Maurice? His call was unexpected, and I couldn't help but wonder about the urgency of his message and how he even got my number.

I quickly dial Maurice back on the Commlink, waiting for him to pick up.

"Dominic, you finally answered," Maurice's voice comes through after a short wait.

"Sorry for not responding earlier, Profes—"

-Fwoosh!

Before I can finish, André snatches the Commlink from my hand, a surprising move.

"Hey, Maurice, you Twat! I didn't know someone like you became a teacher!"

"Wait…that voice, André the Trash, is that you?"

Their exchange leaves me baffled. The casual insults between André and Maurice hint at a deeper, more familiar relationship. Do they know each other personally?

"You Twat! Why did you not tell me that you started teaching, let alone my son's professor!"

"You Trash, you never asked, that's why!"

"Stop being a smartass, Twat! How come you can call my son's number but not mine? Also, how did you even get his number!?"

"I have access to student records, you Trash! Also, I'm going to train him later at 3 PM!"

Maurice's response does nothing to soothe André's growing frustration.

"Training?! Don't you dare take my son away, you hear me?!"

André's protectiveness is clear, and his voice rises in alarm.

Their argument is escalating quickly, becoming more heated by the second. Taking matters into my own hands, I snatch the Commlink from André.

"Hello, Professor, why did you call me?"

"Ah, Dominic! Finally, someone who is well-mannered."

"Hey, I can hear that!" André protests.

"Anyway, about the training for later, I want you to bring your guns here at school," Maurice instructs, much to my surprise.

"Uhh…okay?"

I agree, albeit with a degree of uncertainty. His request is unexpected, but I am willing to comply if it is part of the training.

"Great! See you later, bye!"

And with that, Maurice ends the call.

"Tch!" André clicks his tongue in annoyance. "That Twat hasn't called me for years, and he's just going to unexpectedly call my son!"

It is rare to see André this agitated. His usual demeanor when interacting with me is far more composed.

"Uhm, Dad, how do you know Professor Maurice?"

"He's an old friend, but he stopped talking to me for years after that…incident.”

The mention of an 'incident' piques my curiosity, but it is clear this is a sensitive topic best left unprobed.

"By the way, why didn't you tell me you're also going to train under him?" André shifts the conversation back to the present.

"Well, it's because we focused on the guns last night.”

"Oh yeah…" André ponders for a moment before making a decision. "If that's the case, I'm going with you."

His insistence on accompanying me is unexpected.

"But why, though?"

"Well, knowing Maurice, he'll probably spar with you. But here's the thing, he does not hold back.”

His warning sends a chill down my spine. Is Maurice's training regimen that intense? André's concern suggests he wants to be there to ensure I remain safe—a protective gesture that, while comforting, underscores the seriousness of the training I am about to undertake.

"By the way, you stink. Take a bath, Stink Dom."

Then, with a quick motion, he flicks my forehead, a playful yet firm reminder of his advice.

Rubbing the spot where he flicked me, I can't help but smile at the nickname. "Stink Dom," huh? It seems my list of nicknames is growing by the day. First, "Mr. Serious Training," and now this.

Despite the teasing, I know André's comment is well-intentioned, a mix of humor and genuine concern for my well-being.

"Alright, alright, I'll take a shower."

I concede, standing up and preparing to head inside. It is clear I have worked up quite a sweat with all the training, and a shower is indeed necessary.

As I make my way to get cleaned up, I ponder the upcoming training session with Professor Maurice. André's decision to accompany me offers reassurance and a hint of apprehension about what will come. If Maurice's reputation for not holding back is anything to go by, I am in for quite the experience.

Shaking off any lingering concerns, I focus on the immediate task—getting rid of the "stink," as André so eloquently puts it. After all, a fresh start is always good, whether for a new training day or simply facing challenges with a clear mind and a clean body.