The morning air was cold. Camilo's breath came out in little clouds as he jogged down the quiet street. The sky was still gray and the sun was barely trying to come up. Most of Toulouse was still asleep or pretending to be.
He didn't want to be out here, not at six in the morning and not after barely five hours of sleep, but the System had other plans.
[Objective: Maintain Form Before Next Match]
[Task: Jog 6km – Progress: 0.2 km]
"Yeah, yeah," he said under his breath while glancing at the glowing numbers floating faintly in his vision. "You're worse than my physio."
He pulled the hood of his gray sweatshirt tighter and his hands brushed the air every few steps as his legs found rhythm. The sound of his shoes hitting the pavement echoed through the empty block.
Every few meters, the System flickered again.
[Heart Rate: 123 bpm – Below Target]
[Increase pace by 6%.]
He groaned. "You serious right now?"
He sped up a little just to make it stop, but the System beeped again anyway.
[Good. Maintain current effort.]
"Great," he said between breaths, "a stalker app with an attitude."
A car passed and the driver gave a quick honk. Camilo looked up and saw an older man in a Toulouse FC scarf waving from behind the wheel.
He raised a hand, half a wave and half a salute, and the man grinned and drove off.
Two teenagers sitting on a bench nearby whispered and pointed, and he caught one of them saying, "That's Mendez, right? The new kid?"
He smiled a little but didn't stop running. It still felt weird being noticed because just a week ago nobody cared who he was, but now people knew his name or at least tried to.
Another message blinked in front of him.
[Distance: 2.7 km / 6.0 km]
[Stamina Drain: Moderate]
His chest hurt a little, not from the injury, just from being tired, so he slowed down to catch his breath and put his hands on his knees.
The display dimmed and then pulsed again.
[Warning: Decrease in Form Detected]
[Continue running to maintain progression.]
He stared at the glowing letters and shook his head while standing up straight again.
"This is crazy," he said. "I'm arguing with software."
He started jogging again, slower this time, as his mind wandered to the match, to those assists, to the feeling of everyone chanting his name. For a second it didn't feel like training because it felt good.
When he hit 5.8 kilometers his legs were burning and his hoodie was soaked with sweat, so he dragged himself through the last stretch until the System blinked again.
[Task Complete.]
[Form: Stable]
He stopped right there on the sidewalk and bent over with his hands on his knees.
"Finally," he said while breathing hard. "Happy now?"
No response this time, just silence and the soft hum of the city waking up.
He straightened up, still breathing heavy but calmer now, then his phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from Mario said, "You up, bro? Cryo at 10. Don't be late."
Camilo laughed softly. "Too late for that."
He looked at the System display one more time before heading back home.
[Next Objective: Rest and Recovery.]
He snorted. "Yeah, sure. Now you tell me to rest."
As he walked back toward his apartment, people started filling the streets like joggers, bakers, a woman walking her dog, and a few glanced his way. One kid yelled, "Allez, Mendez!"
Camilo smiled wider this time. Yes the system annoyed him and the early mornings sucked, but deep down he couldn't deny it. This was the life he'd always wanted.
And somewhere between the sweat, the silence, and the flickering numbers in front of him, a small grin broke across his face.
"Alright," he said. "Maybe this GOAT thing's not total hell."
Camilo reached the Toulouse FC Centre d'Performance a little after nine, his body still felt heavy from the jog, but the cold air from the cryotherapy room helped.
He stepped out of the chamber while shivering slightly and rubbing his arms.
"Every time," he said, his breath visible. "Feels like I just fought a snowstorm."
Across the room, Mario had a towel around his neck and grinned.
"You'll get used to it, or you won't. I still hate it."
Camilo laughed while walking over. "You say that, but you're always the first one in."
Mario shrugged. "That's why I'm the main man here."
It wasn't him being cocky because everyone at the club knew it was true. Mario was the heart of Toulouse as team captain, star forward, and the kind of player younger guys quietly tried to copy.
They sat side by side on the treatment bench while one of the trainers packed ice around Mario's knee.
Camilo leaned back, quiet for a bit, and then he glanced at Mario.
"Hey, can I ask you something?"
Mario raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, go on."
Camilo waited a second. "How do you stay consistent? Like game after game you don't drop off. You're always... solid."
Mario smiled slightly while looking down at his taped leg.
"Consistency's boring, bro. That's the secret."
Camilo frowned. "What?"
"Everyone wants the highlight goals and the crazy skills," Mario said while adjusting his ice wrap, "but football's about doing the simple stuff right, over and over. Eat right, sleep early, train smart, repeat."
He looked up, serious now. "You don't have to be perfect every match, Camilo, just reliable. Coaches remember players they can depend on."
Camilo nodded slowly while thinking about the early morning jog and the system's annoying pop-ups.
"Yeah," he said. "Makes sense."
Mario smirked. "Good. Now stop staring like I just gave you the meaning of life and go stretch before Nancy catches you slacking."
Camilo laughed. "Yes, captain."
By late afternoon he was back home, showered, fed, and exhausted. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of his fridge, so he dropped onto the couch and turned on the TV, flipping through channels without really watching.
Then, out of habit, he glanced at the System display still faintly visible in his vision.
[Form: Stable]
[Daily Task Completed]
[Stat Update Available]
He blinked. "Wait, stat update?"
The screen shifted and showed a simple summary.
Stamina: 75 → 75.1
Speed: 74.2 → 74.4
Camilo squinted and then leaned closer like it would change the numbers.
"That's it?" he said. "Point one? Point two?"
He let out a small laugh and fell back into the couch.
"Oh wow, great. Guess I'm unstoppable now."
Still, he couldn't help smiling a bit. It was small but it was something.
He watched the numbers fade from view as the System dimmed back to standby. He turned off the TV, tossed the remote aside, and stretched out on the couch. Within minutes his eyes were closed and his breathing evened out.
The System stayed silent while glowing faintly in the corner of his vision.
[Resting. Form Recovery in Progress.]
And for the first time all week, Camilo Mendez slept without worrying about the next task.
---
To be continued...