2025-02-07 21:32:33Training
The bruises on Riel’s ribs throbbed with every shallow breath. Pain pulsed beneath his skin, deep and dull, like the echo of a war drum. Each movement sent a fresh jolt through his body, a harsh reminder of just how pitifully weak he had become.
In his past life, strength had been a given. A blade in his grip, the fluid precision of combat, the way opponents fell like reeds before a storm — these were things he had once understood as naturally as breathing. Now?
Now, a simple beating had left him gasping like a fish dragged onto dry land.
The humiliation of it gnawed at him.
The System had given him a second chance — but what was the use of a second chance if he remained fragile? A chime echoed through his mind, clear and artificial.
[New Missions Available.]
A translucent menu flickered into view, its glowing letters forming two distinct tasks:
[Mission: Begin Physical Training] Objective: Train the body through consistent exertion. Reward: Strength +1, Endurance +1.
[Mission: Study Noble Politics] Objective: Gain knowledge of aristocratic power structures. Reward: Intelligence +1.
Riel exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing against the rough fabric of his tunic.
Strength alone had never been enough. He had learned that lesson the hard way — blood in the dirt, steel through his ribs, betrayal carved into his bones. A warlord could conquer a battlefield, but a king?
A king controlled the war before the first blade was drawn.
If he wanted to survive, he needed both.
But first, he had to fix his body.
He pushed himself off the bed. Big mistake.
The moment he stood, his legs buckled.
He staggered, barely managing to catch himself against the wooden bedpost, his breath coming in ragged bursts.
Pathetic.
The word hissed through his thoughts, venomous.
He gritted his teeth. No. He wouldn’t accept this.
Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself to the floor, his hands spreading against the cold stone. He shifted his weight forward, muscles tensing. A simple push-up. Something he should have been able to do with ease.
He pushed.
One.
His arms wobbled, his body barely lifting.
Two.
His ribs protested, fire licking through his chest.
Three.
His muscles — traitorous, weak things — gave out.
Riel crashed onto the floor, cheek pressing against the cool stone.
A soft chime.
[System Notice: Progress Registered. Adjusting Training Style for Maximum Efficiency.]
His vision blurred as the new message replaced the first.
[Training Protocol Adjusted: Micro-Improvement System Enabled.]
He forced himself upright, heart hammering.
“What does that mean?” he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
There was no answer, only silence and the flickering System interface. He exhaled, shaking out his arms. There was only one way to find out.
He attempted another push-up.
The strain was still there—the trembling in his arms, the dull agony in his ribs—but something felt… different.
He lasted longer.
Only a few seconds longer, but still.
His jaw tightened. He pushed again.
And again.
His muscles burned. His breath came in ragged bursts. Sweat dripped from his forehead, dotting the stone beneath him. But he kept going.
[Progress Registered: Strength +0.1]
His breath hitched.
Even failure counted.
That changed everything.
He didn’t have to be strong today. He didn’t have to be fast, or powerful, or unbreakable.
He just had to endure.
Riel pushed again.
And again.
The pain was a constant, an ever-present drumbeat in his bones. But now, it felt like something else—something useful. He wasn’t just suffering.
He was changing.
The numbers crept upward.
Strength +0.2.
Endurance +0.3.
A new fire burned in his chest.
This was the System’s power.
It wouldn’t hand him strength.
It would drag it out of him, piece by piece. And Riel had never been afraid of pain.
Hours later, he collapsed onto the cold stone floor, his body drenched in sweat.
His arms trembled. His ribs ached. Every inch of him screamed in protest.
But beneath the exhaustion, buried deep under the layers of fatigue and soreness—
He felt alive.
A chime rang in his ears.
[Mission Completed: Begin Physical Training.] [Reward: Strength +1, Endurance +1.]
Warmth bloomed in his limbs, a slow pulse of strength settling into his bones. It wasn’t much, but it was real.
Still, this was only the beginning.
Strength would let him survive.
Knowledge would let him win.
His gaze drifted to the second mission.
[Mission: Study Noble Politics.]
Power wasn’t just measured in muscle and steel. It lived in whispers, in alliances, in the ink of contracts and the weight of a signature.
Three months. That was all he had before his family’s downfall.
Three months before noble hands dragged his house into the abyss.
If he wanted to change fate, he needed to understand the game.
Riel pushed himself up, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored them. Time to learn the rules of power.
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A whisper of steel. A breath of death.I twisted—instinct, raw and desperate. Air split where my throat had been. A dagger, too close, too fast. My pulse detonated in my chest. Another strike—I wrenched away. Fire slashed across my shoulder, hot and deep.Shadows peeled from the night. Three. Masked. Lethal.The first lunged low, blade thirsty for my gut. The second went high, a curved sword flashing toward my skull. The third? He stood back, watching, measuring. A wolf scenting weakness.I wasn’t ready.Hesitation cost me. A boot slammed into my ribs. The world buckled sideways. A hot splash of blood filled my mouth. Before I could gasp, another blade whistled down. I hit the dirt, rolled—metal carved air where my heart had been.Move. Move.The system roared to life. Numbers. Angles. Weaknesses. The flood of data seared my vision. My mind clawed through it—too slow.The first assassin lunged. I blocked, but it wasn’t clean. Steel kissed my forearm. A line of agony ripped through me.
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