Quest Ongoing:
100/100 Push-ups
100/100 Sit-ups
0/10km
—---------
Failure to complete today will result in -10 to all stats.
____________________________
"Haah… haah…"
Sweating buckets, and catching my breath like I am a horse who run through a marathon, I stared at the holographic screen in front of me with disbelief. I just finished the first two exercises—it reminded me of a certain anime I used to watch back on Earth.
I looked at the glowing sentence that mocked me, the one that could strip away all my stats.
"This system is sadistic," I muttered.
Running isn't a problem for me. This body could handle the punishment this sadistic window system throws out. The question is how?
I looked out the window. White. Nothing but blizzard. I clicked my tongue in disbelief. This system doesn't even have the decency to consider the weather.
Without thinking, I went outside, still drenched in sweat and forgetting my tunic. The maids bowed their heads when they saw me—I couldn't tell if it was out of respect or because I looked like a wreck.
"Ah! Uncle Gideon!"
I spotted our family butler—my so-called uncle. He gave a deep bow, though I've told him countless times not to. His trimmed eyebrow rose as he took in my state.
"Young Master Aleksander," he said, voice calm but measured, "may I inquire as to the cause of this sudden activity?"
I scratched the back of my head.
"I… need to run. Do you know of a place where I may do so in laps?"
Gideon's brow furrowed slightly.
"And what, may I ask, is the purpose of this exertion, Young Master?"
I sighed, exasperated.
"Training," I replied flatly.
He studied me carefully, as if weighing the truth of my words. "I must remind you, Young Master, that you have but recently recovered from your illness. Continued strain may be injurious to your body."
"Uncle," I insisted, "I require a location for running. It is imperative."
Gideon exhaled through his nose, a faint sigh, but nodded. "Very well, Young Master. If it pleases you, I shall accompany you to a suitable area for such activity."
The training hall he led me to was vast, lined with weapons, practice swords, and training dummies in every corner.
"Pray, do not overexert yourself, Young Master," he cautioned before leaving. "Theresia shall provide refreshments and sustenance shortly."
I stretched, completing a brief warm-up, and then commenced the 10-kilometer run.
This body, though athletic in its prime, was still weakened from illness. My muscles screamed in protest, my lungs burned with every breath, and sweat drenched the floor beneath me.
"This is nothing compared to the sacrifice I'll make once I meet that bastard," I muttered through gritted teeth, forcing myself to continue.
Ding!
The ping snapped me back to reality. The screen flashed.
[Congratulations. You have completed the Quest Spartan day 1.
Received:
20,000 SP
10 Stat points allocation]
My body went limp. I fell to the floor, clutching the cold tiles as if they were the only thing keeping me upright. I gulped for air, letting the sweat cool against my skin.
A smirk crept onto my face. Finally, I had accomplished something I never could back on Earth.
I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing. For the first time since awakening, I felt… alive.
Gideon and Theresia watched their young lord run laps in the training hall. It was… not a pretty sight. Sloppy, unsteady, and raw—but it filled them with pride. After being bedridden for a month due to illness, he had already taken it upon himself to regain his strength.
Gideon inclined his head slightly. "I see that the Young Master wishes to grow stronger."
Theresia, the head maid, nodded in agreement.
"He is… markedly different from his elder brother. Young Master Lucien, he…" She paused, gripping the tray of refreshments and biscuits tightly, as though it anchored her nerves.
"The Lord's previous actions… I fear the consequences of his recklessness have already begun to take their toll."
They both knew the reality too well. The manor, the House of Rivenheart—it teetered on the brink of ruin.
"Do you believe Young Master Aleksander is aware of this predicament?" Theresia asked softly, concern lacing her tone.
Gideon's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "If anyone would think of such matters first, it would be him. He has inherited Lady Athena's cunning and intelligence."
Theresia's eyes widened slightly. "So that is why he pushes himself so relentlessly, even after his recent illness."
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted when Aleksander slumped mid-lap, heaving heavily. Alarmed, they hurried to the doorway, ready to intervene in case he began to hyperventilate.
But instead, they heard a soft, triumphant chuckle. Their young lord raised a tired arm in celebration, a wide, exhausted grin on his face.
Pride and relief washed over them in equal measure.
This kind of workout went on for weeks—months, even—until such training became second nature to me. My muscles had regained their former tone, and the strength lost during my bedridden days was once more restored.
"Aperio."
The holographic screen materialized before my eyes, and I began to check my stats.
---
STATS
STR: 90
END: 85
INT: 75
AGI: 95
LUCK: 75
Rank: F+
---
I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I studied the numbers. Manageable, I thought. With these stats, I can finally challenge a dungeon.
I caught my reflection in the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. Three months had passed since I first took this body.
"I should wash," I murmured. "Father expects me within the hour."
Perhaps I might also ask his permission to leave the manor and investigate that hidden dungeon. In The Forsaken Blade, there lies a concealed dungeon on the outskirts of Elarion, near the town of Graystone.
Fortunately, our family governs that very town—though it also serves as the kingdom's frontline against beasts and monsters alike.
I sighed. "Convincing them will be… troublesome." They have been overly attentive since I awoke from that coma.
After washing and dressing, I made my way to Father's study. The corridors were lined with portraits of our ancestors, and among them stood the solemn visage of my late grandfather—one who fought valiantly at the frontlines during the monster stampede. I halted before his portrait.
Thaddeus Rivenheart.
A man of white hair and steel-gray eyes that seemed to pierce straight through one's soul. He wore a decorated military uniform, medals gleaming proudly on his chest. He resembled me—though his gaze bore the weight of countless battlefields.
I straightened the white long-sleeved shirt beneath my dark vest lined with silver trim. A thin cravat rested neatly at my collar, formal but restrained— befitting one who bears the Rivenheart name. My black trousers were pressed and tucked into polished boots that reached just below the knee.
As I continued down the hall, I stopped short. Emerging from Father's study was none other than Lucien— the very man who would one day bring this manor to ruin.
Our eyes met briefly. He, ever the sly one, called out to me as though still the favored son.
"Aleksander," he began smoothly. "Word reached me that you have awakened from your slumber. I am… most pleased to see you on your feet again, dear brother."
His tone dripped with feigned courtesy, the sarcasm barely concealed.
"Father and Mother were quite distraught during your illness. I, too, was in despair," he added with a mock sigh.
I suppressed a scoff. "I beg your pardon for troubling you so, elder brother. I am unworthy of such deep concern."
I caught his smirk from the corner of my eye. He still believed me to be the same weakling he once beat black and blue.
"How was your… trip?" I asked, letting the question linger between us.
Lucien's brow furrowed slightly, as though puzzled by my sudden curiosity.
"It was… eventful," he said flatly. "Several noble houses were in attendance— it was quite the spectacle."
I inclined my head slightly. Indeed, I knew where he had truly been. My informant among his knights had already confirmed his gambling escapades.
"I see," I replied calmly.
He studied me for a moment, trying to discern if I knew something. But in his mind, I was still the frail invalid—too oblivious to uncover his misdeeds.
"Worry not, brother," he said at last, his lips curling faintly. "You shall attend such banquets soon enough. Now go. Father awaits."
He strode past me, his boots echoing down the marble hall. I offered a polite bow of my head, though my eyes lingered on his retreating figure.