The hallway was alive because of the random murmuring of students—the club representatives were shouting aloud for recruits, the echo of sneakers in the gym and the dull thuds of gloves slamming into the punching bags.
Ryan walked alongside Maya, the hum of competition in the air was putting a great amount of pressure on his chest like an invisible weight.
"So," Ryan said, trying to keep his tone a bit casual. "This inter-club thing… are you also going to take a part in this, Maya?" Ryan said, voice low.
He took a small break as he continued. "Are you going to be my partner or… you know, my opponent?"
Maya's lips curled into a faint smirk, her tone was matter-of-fact. "I'm in the kickboxing club, Ryan. You're in the boxing club. So, of course I'll be your opponent."
He blinked at her, the words sinking in slower than he wanted them to be. "So… no chance of you switching the teams?"
Her eyes softened for a brief second—then she looked away from him. "You wouldn't want me to. This is a competition, I don't think that I'll hold back, even if we are friends." Maya said, voice filled with confidence.
A bead of sweat slid down Ryan's temple. He gave a small, awkward chuckle. "I see… guess I'll have to watch out for you too, hehe."
They both parted their ways at the gym entrance, her figure disappeared in the noise of the kickboxing club.
Ryan lingered in the hallway for a slight moment, the hum of conversation behind him felt a little distant.
By the time he slid back to his seat in his classroom, the bell already rang. The teacher's voice faded into the background noise as Ryan was lost in his own thoughts.
He was thinking about Maya's words, on the looming tournament, on the truth that he's weak and his current strength is not enough.
Then—
[DING!]
[Host, training session intensity should be increased for the upcoming days. You need to get into better shape before the tournament occurs.]
Ryan's eyes flickered to the corner of his vision where the translucent panel hovered. 'Yeah… you're right and I have to do it, because I don't have any other choice.'
It was 7:02 PM when he finally got back home from school. The streetlamps flickered to life as the sun settled down, the light of lamps was stretching the shadows across the road.
Ryan didn't even step inside, he grabbed his worn sneakers, laced them with mechanical precision and stepped outside to do his daily training.
[DING!]
[Daily Training: 5 km run, 200 sit-ups, 200 push-ups, 200 pull-ups.]
"You're trying to kill me at this point, aren't you?" Ryan muttered, voice low.
[If you die from this, Host, you were already useless to begin with.]
He rolled his eyes. "Wow, so fucking motivational."
The first kilometer wasn't that bad—cool air against his skin, the rhythm of his footsteps on the pavement. But by the time he reached the second kilometer, his lungs started burning.
By the third, sweat stung his eyes, breath came in ragged pulls, heart thumped as it was about to burst and his calves screamed for him to stop.
The city around him blurred into neon signs and passing headlights. He felt every grain of grit in the air as it slowly scraped his throat.
[Host, your pace is dropping.]
"Shut… up…" he forced his legs forward. 'One more step… just one more.'
His entire body screamed in agony, he wanted to stop, wanted to rest. But the thought of staying like this his whole life made him push harder.
By the time he reached the mark of the fifth kilometer, his legs wobbled like they were made out of jelly. He bent forward, hands on his knees, gasping for air like a man who just got pulled out from underwater.
"Alright… time for the sit-ups and a reminder, I FUCKING HATE YOU, SYSTEM!!" Ryan said in fury as he made his way to the park.
[You should not hate me, host. I'm doing this all for you and your better future. >⩊<]
'Blah blah.'
Ryan started doing the push-ups, first few of them were like a cakewalk but when he hit the mark of seventy, his abs started to burn, it felt like someone was digging knives into his core.
He had to pause after every few reps, gulping for air.
Push-ups weren't kinder, his arms trembled after twenty and by the hundredth his elbows locked painfully, refusing to bend without resistance.
Pull-ups were pure hell, the bar was cold and unforgiving beneath his palms, biting into the raw skin of his.
By the third set, his grip kept slipping off because of the sweat and pain, each rep felt like lifting a mountain, his shoulders were screaming in protest.
When it was done, Ryan dropped onto the ground, staring at the night sky. Stars blinked faintly above the streetlights.
His chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths.
[Host, you've completed today's training.]
He managed to form a faint grin on his lips. 'This is going to kill me… but if I stop, I'll be weak forever.'
The thought of being weak lingered in his mind, warm and cold at the same time. His muscles ached because of today's training session.