Cherreads

Chapter 45 - Back At The Grind

The sense of accomplishment from the bake sale success was a warm, pleasant feeling in the back of Chris's mind. He had spent the morning in his bedroom, with the "Java Programming for Beginners" book open on his desk, and he was cross-referencing its concepts with the glowing tooltips provided by his [Function Comprehension] skill. He was, for the first time since graduating high school, voluntarily learning something other than gaming techniques.

He was in the middle of a particularly dense chapter on object-oriented principles when a knock came at his door. It wasn't Misty this time. The knock was a loud, practical rap. It was Pete.

Chris looked up as his step-father leaned against the doorframe, a clipboard in his hand. Pete wasn't frowning. He wasn't looking at Chris with his usual air of mild, parental disappointment. There was a purpose in his eyes, a look that Chris struggled for a moment to recognize. It was the look of a man who saw not a problem, but a partner.

"Morning," Pete said, his voice gravelly. "You're not glued to the computer. That's a good sign."

"Just doing some reading," Chris said, a half-truth that felt surprisingly honest.

Pete grunted, but it was less skeptical and more appreciative. He looked from the open book on Chris's desk to Chris himself. The miraculous restoration of the lawnmower engine had clearly left a lasting impression. Pete no longer saw Chris as just Misty's son, who was good at video games; he saw him as the step-son who was, somehow, "handy."

"Since you're so handy now," Pete said, a hint of a smile in his voice, "I was thinking we could tackle these."

He held out the clipboard. On it was a piece of paper with a list of long-neglected weekend chores, written in Pete's neat, all-caps handwriting. It was the "honey-do list," a diabolical item Chris had spent years developing elaborate strategies to avoid.

Just as Pete held out the list, a new quest notification appeared in Chris's HUD.

[Quest: Pete's Project List]

[Objective: Complete all tasks on the list.]

[Reward: 250 XP, +10 Approval (Pete Woody), ???]

Chris looked from the list in Pete's hand to the quest in his vision. 250 XP was a solid reward. But it was the other part that caught his eye. +10 Approval (Pete Woody). He had an approval rating with his step-father. A quantifiable metric. And this quest was offering a massive, direct boost to that stat. Okay, this wasn't just about chores. This was about leveling up his relationship with Pete.

"What've you got?" Chris asked, his voice full of a newfound, can-do spirit that seemed to surprise even himself.

Pete handed him the clipboard. The list was a saga of suburban decay, just as diabolical as he thought it would be.

* CLEAN GUTTERS (FRONT & BACK)

* MOVE & STACK FIREWOOD (BEFORE IT RAINS AGAIN)

* ORGANIZE GARAGE (JUNK CORNER)

It was a trifecta of manual labor, a revolting list of tasks that were dirty, difficult, and required actual physical effort. The old Chris would have groaned, sighed, and tried to negotiate his way out of at least two of them. The new Chris saw a series of objectives, a clear path to a significant reward.

"I'll get dressed," he said.

His first task was to clean the leaf-clogged gutters on the house. Pete dragged the wobbly, aluminum extension ladder out from the side of the house while Chris found a pair of thick, leather work gloves in the garage.

"You be careful up there," Pete said, his voice a familiar mixture of command and concern. "Keep three points of contact on the ladder at all times. And if it starts to feel unsteady, you get your butt down. Got it?"

"Got it," Chris said, feeling it was simple, practical advice.

The job was as difficult, messy, and precarious as he had imagined. He climbed the ladder, a plastic bucket hooked over one of the rungs. The gutters were choked with a thick, black sludge of damp, decaying leaves, pine needles, and unidentifiable organic matter.

He began to scoop out handfuls of the damp, smelly gunk, dropping it into the bucket. It was a disgusting, repetitive task. But the worst part was the ladder. It was an old ladder, and it wobbled with every move he made. Each time he reached out to scoop a new handful of sludge, the ladder would shift and sway, sending a jolt of adrenaline through his system. He had to constantly adjust his weight, planting his feet firmly, keeping one hand gripped on the side of the ladder, a three-point stance of terror.

He was twenty minutes into the job, balanced precariously over the front porch, scooping out a clog of wet leaves, when a notification popped into his vision, surprising him so much he almost lost his balance.

[Repetitive balancing action has permanently increased your DEXTERITY by +1!]

Chris froze, his hand hovering over the gutter, a glob of black sludge dripping from his glove. He stared at the notification, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. A permanent stat increase. From cleaning the gutters.

A slow, dawning realization began to spread through him, a revelation so simple it was a wonder he hadn't thought of it before. He had been so focused on quests, on skills, on the grand, cosmic mechanics of the System, that he had completely overlooked the most basic, fundamental thing.

Grinding.

Performing physical actions in the real world could directly increase his base stats. The System wasn't just a quest log; it rewarded effort with tangible, quantifiable results.

The rest of the chore began to seem not as diabolical as it used to be. It was no longer a tedious, disgusting burden. It was training. It was a dexterity-grinding minigame. He began to move with a new, deliberate purpose. He would lean out, forcing himself to balance, then correct his posture, feeling the small, stabilizing muscles in his legs and engaging his core. He wasn't just cleaning the gutters; he was leveling up his stats.

Next on the list was the firewood. A half-cord of oak that was left of the old oak tree that had fallen in the back yard had been sitting in a messy pile, slowly being reclaimed by weeds and insects. The task was simple: move the logs and chopped pieces from the pile and stack them neatly against the back of the garage.

It was grueling, repetitive, physical labor. Chris, a man whose primary form of exercise was the frantic clicking of a mouse, felt the strain almost immediately. His muscles, underused for a few years now, screamed in protest with the first heavy log he lifted. The wood was heavy and the bark rough against his gloves.

But now, he had a new motivation. This was a strength-training session.

He began to work with a steady, rhythmic pace. He would lift a log or piece, carry it the twenty yards to the garage, and place it carefully on the growing stack. With each piece of wood, he could feel the burn in his arms, his shoulders, his back. It was a clean, honest pain, the feeling of muscles being pushed to their limits.

He started counting. He was trying to figure out the mechanics. How many reps did it take to trigger the stat increase? Was it based on weight lifted? Time spent? He was trying to reverse-engineer the System's fitness algorithm.

After moving the twentieth heavy log, just as he was setting it on the stack, another notification appeared, this one accompanied by a pleasant surge of energy in his arms.

[Sustained physical exertion has permanently increased your STRENGTH by +1!]

He let out a short laugh, the sound a ragged gasp of air. He felt a real, tangible change. The ache in his muscles seemed to lessen, replaced by a feeling of renewed energy. The next log he picked up felt just a little bit lighter. He wasn't just getting a stat point; he also felt like there was a heal-over-time buff with the stat increase. The System had rewarded the grind with a second wind.

The final task was to organize the cluttered section of the garage he and Pete had dubbed the "junk corner." It was a pile of old furniture, heavy boxes of National Geographic and other magazines from the 1980s, and a miscellaneous assortment of things too useful to throw away but too useless to have a designated place.

The work was exhausting. He was already tired from the gutters and the firewood, his body drenched in sweat, his t-shirt sticking to his back. But he was now driven by the grind. He had gained Dexterity. He had gained Strength. He wondered what this would give.

He pushed through the fatigue. He moved the heavy boxes, his legs burning. He wrestled an old, heavy oak end table from the back of the pile, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was working on the last item on the chore list, and its main attack was soul-crushing exhaustion.

Finally, after another hour of hard labor, he was done. The junk corner was no longer a junk corner. It was a neat, orderly, and deeply satisfying... stack of junk. As he moved the final, empty cardboard box, a notification appeared.

[Prolonged manual labor has permanently increased your STAMINA by +1!]

He stood at the now-organized garage corner, covered in a fine layer of dirt and sweat, his muscles aching with a deep burn. He felt more tired than he had in years.

The chime of a quest completion sounded in his mind.

[Quest Completed! 250 XP Awarded!]

[+10 Approval (Pete Woody)]

[+1 Class Skill Point]

The XP was a nice bonus, a solid chunk that pushed his level bar closer to the next milestone. The skill point was amazing. But the real reward came a moment later.

Pete came out into the garage, a cold bottle of beer in his hand. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes taking in the scene. He looked at the neatly stacked firewood outside. He looked at the organized corner of the garage. He looked up at the clean, free-flowing gutters. He looked at Chris, standing there, tired and dirty.

Pete didn't say much. He just walked over, handed Chris the bottle of beer, and gave him a simple nod.

"Good work, Chris," he said. His voice was quiet, but it contained a note of sincere, hard-won approval.

That evening, after a long, hot shower that felt like a full-heal potion, Chris was back in his bedroom. He was sore. Every muscle in his body ached. But it was a good kind of sore. It was the ache of progress.

He opened his [STATS] tab. He looked at his base physical stats, and a wide, satisfied grin spread across his face.

[Strength: 11]

[Dexterity: 12]

[Stamina: 11]

The numbers were there, in crisp, white, permanent text. He was measurably stronger, faster, and tougher than he was at the start of the day. He hadn't fought a single monster. He hadn't cleared a single dungeon. But he had grown. He had leveled up his own body, one chore at a time.

For the first time, he felt like he was actually training, preparing for the bigger challenges ahead... by cleaning the gutters.

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