Charlie collapsed into bed after dinner, his stomach rumbling despite the meal. The single chicken breast and modest pile of vegetables were a far cry from the heaping plates he was used to, but he forced himself to accept it. "Just sleep," he muttered, rolling onto his side. "It'll pass."
Sleep came reluctantly, his body aching from the day's exertions. When it finally claimed him, it felt like mere seconds before the System's chime jolted him awake.
Wake up. Task: Walk 3,000 steps.
Charlie groaned, burying his face in his pillow. "Can't I sleep in for once?" he mumbled, his voice muffled.
No. Begin now.
Grumbling curses, Charlie dragged himself out of bed and began pacing the basement, each step a protest. His legs burned, his shirt grew damp with sweat, and by the time he hit 3,000, he was panting like he'd run a race. He leaned against the wall, gasping.
Task complete. Reward: Stamina recovery.
A wave of energy washed over him, subtle but enough to keep him upright. His muscles still ached, but the fog of exhaustion lifted slightly. "Thanks, I guess," he muttered, shuffling to the shower to wash off the sweat.
Clean and dressed, Charlie grabbed his bag and headed to school. It was the last day before summer vacation, and a flicker of excitement sparked in his chest. No teachers, no Bobby Klein, no desks pinching his sides—just freedom. But as he navigated the crowded halls, the System's voice shattered his brief optimism.
Reminder: Cook a balanced meal and complete a workout routine today.
Charlie froze mid-step, his shoulders slumping. "Seriously?" he hissed under his breath. The thought of more cooking and exercise loomed like a storm cloud, snuffing out his excitement. He shuffled into class, his mood as heavy as his footsteps.
Class was the same as always. Charlie slouched in his desk, the metal frame groaning under his weight. The teacher's announcement about summer vacation sparked cheers from his classmates, but Charlie barely registered it. Vacation just meant more time in the basement, now with the System's endless tasks piled on top.
During a break, Bobby Klein and his cronies were in top form. Charlie didn't notice the "Kick Me" sign slapped onto his back until a nudge jolted him. Then another. By the third, he realized what was happening. He reached awkwardly, his fingers brushing the paper but unable to grab it—his body wouldn't bend that way.
He sighed, letting his arms drop. The Snickers around him were familiar, a dull ache he'd learned to ignore. Asking for help would only make it worse, so he let the sign stay, trudging through the hall as laughter trailed him like a shadow.
"Hey there, son," a voice called. Mr. Higgins, the janitor, stood nearby, mop in hand, his weathered face kind but stern. "Turn around for me."
Charlie frowned but complied. Mr. Higgins peeled off the sign, crumpling it with a shake of his head. "Kids these days," he muttered. "Don't let 'em get to you, you hear?"
"Yeah," Charlie mumbled, eyes on the floor. "Thanks."
Mr. Higgins gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder and moved on. Charlie shuffled back to class, sinking lower in his seat, feeling nothing—not anger, not sadness, just a hollow numbness.
When the final bell rang, Charlie lingered as the classroom emptied. He always waited, letting his classmates spill into the halls first. He knew what they'd say if he got too close: "Here comes the slug.""Ugh, he's sweating again. Gross." The words were unspoken today, but they hung in the air, as real as ever. Waiting was easier.
When the room was silent, he gathered his bag and trudged out, the walk home heavier than usual. The familiar creak of the front door greeted him, the house quiet with his parents still at work. They'd be home late, exhausted from long shifts, their unspoken fatigue a weight Charlie felt but couldn't name.
He dropped his bag by the couch and sank into its familiar cushions. The silence pressed in, thick with the day's frustrations. "System," he said, rubbing his face, "I… I want to change."
The words slipped out, raw and unfamiliar. "Vacation's here. I want to be better. And… I want more rewards."
For a moment, there was only the faint hum of the house. Then the System responded, its voice steady: Acknowledged. Preparing meal plan, workout plan, and purchase recommendations.
Translucent screens bloomed before him, brimming with data:
Meal Plan:
Breakfast: Oatmeal with berries and a protein shake.
Lunch: Grilled chicken salad with avocado and whole-grain bread.
Dinner: Baked salmon with quinoa and steamed broccoli.
Workout Plan:
Morning: Cardio (5,000 steps minimum).
Afternoon: Strength training (core and arms).
Evening: Stretching and cooldown.
Shopping List:\
Protein powder
Gym membership
Resistance bands
Basic dumbbells
More screens followed, listing Milestone Rewards for sticking to the plan:
Milestone 1: $500.
Milestone 2: Pumped Perk increase (+5%).
Milestone 3: Potion for gradual height increase (effective until age 21).
Milestone 4: Better Genes Potion (enhances physical attributes, illness resistance).
Milestone 5: $5,000.
Milestone 6: $400.
Milestone 7: IQ Enhancement Potion (improves focus, cognition).
Milestone 8: Battle Sense Potion (enhances reflexes, situational awareness).
Charlie's jaw dropped, his eyes darting across the screens. "All this… for me?" The rewards were staggering—cash, potions, perks straight out of a sci-fi RPG. But the plans, the workouts, the shopping list… they were daunting. This wasn't a game he could pause or cheat.
His heart raced, a mix of awe and dread. Then another notification appeared: This is not all.
Charlie's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'not all'?"
New Task: Combat Training.
Post-workout, complete fighting simulations in boxing, taekwondo, and jiu-jitsu to master punches, kicks, and ground techniques.
Charlie's jaw dropped further. "Combat training? Why the hell do I need that?"
To evolve, Charles.
A new screen detailed the task:
Combat Training Rewards:\
Boxing: 1-star to 5-star mastery
Taekwondo: 1-star to 5-star mastery
Jiu-Jitsu: 1-star to 5-star mastery
Each star unlocks significant rewards.
Then, the kicker: To achieve 1-star Unbreakable Body, sustain 5,000 hits during training.
Charlie's face flushed crimson. "FIVE THOUSAND HITS? No way! I'm not doing that!"
Mastery ensures you will never be bullied again.
The words stopped him cold. The memory of Bobby Klein's laughter, the "Kick Me" sign, the hallway snickers—they flooded back, sharp and stinging. To never feel that again… it was tempting. But 5,000 hits? On top of everything else?
"I can't do all this in three months!" he protested.
Correct. But in three years, you can. Progress requires time.
A quote flashed: Endurance is not the absence of struggle. It is the triumph over it.
Charlie's eye twitched. "You… stupid… System!" he roared, clenching his fists. "This is hell! Pure hell!"
But beneath the anger, a spark flickered—small, stubborn, undeniable. The idea of becoming someone untouchable, someone who could stand tall, burrowed into his mind. He wasn't ready to admit it, but it was there.
And so began what Charlie would forever call "Hell Summer."