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[System Notification]Daily Task Protocol unlocked.
Daily tasks must be completed within the 24-hour cycle.
Failure to complete any task will void rewards for the day.
Rewards scale with host's current level.
Daily Task List (Level 2):
• Physical Conditioning
— 150 push-ups
— 150 squats
— 5 km run (or equivalent indoor cardio)
(Boosts stamina, endurance, and fatigue resistance over time)
• Culinary Drill
—Cook 2 dishes using different core techniques (ex: sauté, braise, grill).
One can be a known recipe (something he's already mastered or unlocked).
The second must be either:
A variation/improvement of an existing recipe (change an ingredient, fusion, or technique), or
A random dish chosen by the system from his "Recipe Archive."
(Improves skill adaptability, increases chance of discovering hidden recipes)
• Mental Training
— Study 1 advanced recipe or cooking theory chapter from the System Archive.
— Memorize 10 random culinary terms/ingredients chosen by the system.
(Boosts Intelligence & sharpens recipe comprehension speed)
• System Sync
— Meditate for 30 minutes to synchronize body and stats with system's flow.
(Improves Recovery Speed and reduces fatigue buildup)
Reward for Completing All Tasks (Level 2 baseline):
• +10 SEU
• Random Item Drop (could be ingredient, small stat boost, or minor tool)
• Progress unlock toward Restaurant Blueprint (5% completion each day)
Penalty: If even one task is left incomplete, rewards = 0.
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Vincent's jaw dropped." You're kidding me. That's… a whole military bootcamp."
[Host requires discipline. Reward requires effort.]
He scrolled the list again, muttering. "Push-ups and squats? One hundred and fifty?! Five kilometers? Every day?!" His voice cracked. "I'm a chef, not a marathon runner!"
[Training adjusted to host's current stamina. Quitting is not recommended.]
Vincent groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Right. Surviving missions. Great. At this rate I'll collapse before I even get to cook."
Still, he couldn't help but glance at the reward section again. +10 SEU a day. Blueprint progress. Random drops. That was too valuable to ignore.
Vincent exhaled. "Alright. I'm not quitting now. Whatever you throw at me, I'll break through it."
The next morning, Vincent stood staring intently at the holographic screen in front of him.
The holographic letters flickered above him, glaring like a merciless drill sergeant.
Daily Task – Physical Conditioning
• 150 push-ups
• 150 squats
• 5 km run
The first fifty push-ups were manageable. By seventy, his arms shook. By ninety, sweat poured into his eyes. His breaths turned ragged.
"Come on… just a few more…"
His chest hit the floor and didn't rise for a full five seconds. He clenched his jaw, forced himself up, and managed the final reps, collapsing onto his back with a gasp. His arms felt like lead.
Then came the squats.The first thirty were steady, his thighs burning. By fifty, his knees quivered. By a hundred, his legs felt like collapsing pillars. Each descent felt like torture. He grunted with every rise, veins straining along his neck.
"Who… makes… a chef do this?!"
The System, naturally, remained silent.
Finally, the run. Five kilometers. Vincent laced up his old sneakers and staggered outside.
The first kilometer was steady. The second tore the breath from his lungs. By the third, his legs screamed in protest. Sweat plastered his shirt to his back, and his chest ached with every ragged inhale.
By the fourth kilometer, black spots danced at the edge of his vision. He slowed, nearly stopping, his body begging him to quit.
"No…" he rasped. "I… can't…"
The memory of the system rewards flickered in his mind: SEU. Blueprint Progress. Random Drops. If he gave up now, all of it vanished. Worse—he'd lose to the system on Day 1.
That thought alone reignited a spark in his chest.
"Just… one more…step..."
He pushed, each step heavy as stone. By the time he stumbled back to his apartment door, his vision swam. His body collapsed against the wall, sliding to the floor in a heap.
Sweat soaked through him, his chest heaving, his hands trembling too hard to even lift a glass of water. His heart hammered like it wanted to burst free.
He wanted—desperately—to let go, to let sleep drag him under.
He laughed weakly, shaking his head. "System… you're a monster."
[Host has completed Physical Conditioning Task. Proceed to Culinary Drill.]
Vincent groaned, pressing his forehead against the floor. "You want me to cook after that?! You'll be the death of me…"
Vincent dragged himself to the counter, body trembling from the run. His arms felt like lead when he reached for the knife. The weight was familiar, but tonight it felt as if someone had swapped it for a block of iron. He planted his feet, flexed his trembling fingers around the handle, and set a vegetable on the board.
Chop.
The blade sank in, uneven. His wrist buckled, and the knife nearly slipped from his hand.
"Shit…" he muttered, biting back the urge to fling the knife across the room.
He reset. Deep breath. Focus. One cut. Then another. Then another. His arms screamed, his shoulders shook violently, and sweat dripped onto the cutting board, blurring his vision. Every motion was torture—yet he refused to stop.
Chop. Chop. Chop.
The rhythm slowly steadied. Clumsy at first, then sharper, more precise as muscle memory clawed its way through the exhaustion. His breaths tore out of him, ragged and shallow, but he forced the blade down, again and again.
Then the stove flared to life, twin flames roaring. He placed ingredients across the counter: noodles, aromatics, broth base, fresh vegetables.
He stumbled forward, tossing oil into the pan. The heat hit him like a wall, his already overheated body roasting in the blast. The sizzle of garlic and onions filled the cramped space, smoke rising as he fought to keep his movements sharp.
His knife nearly slipped more than once, his hand jerking at the edge of collapse, but he powered through—slicing pork thin, tossing it into the pan, then cracking eggs with trembling fingers.
The noodles boiled furiously. He lifted the pot, arms wobbling dangerously. For a heartbeat, he thought he'd drop it all. But he gritted his teeth, growled from the pit of his chest, and slammed it down onto the counter, draining it with sheer stubbornness.
Stir, toss, plate.
Every motion was clumsy compared to his usual finesse, but his willpower carried him through. By the time the dish hit the plate, his vision was blurring. The steam rose before him like a hazy mirage.
[Ding!] Culinary Drill—Completed.
Vincent let the spatula clatter from his fingers. His whole body sagged against the counter, lungs burning as though he'd run another marathon inside his kitchen.
"…This…is insane…" he rasped. Then, a weak laugh. "Physical hell… fire hell… you're really trying to kill me, system."
But even as his knees buckled and his vision swam, his lips curved into a grin. No matter how hard it is… the rewards are worth it.
Panting, he blinked as the thought hit him. "Right—the dishes. System, put them in my inventory."
[Command acknowledged. 2 completed dishes successfully stored in Inventory.]
A faint shimmer rippled over the plates before they vanished, leaving only the faint aroma of spice and smoke in the air.
Vincent exhaled, a weak chuckle slipping past his lips. "At least that's one thing I don't have to clean up."
Vincent dragged his tired body back to the bed, each step heavier than the last.
The screen hovered in front of him again.
[Physical Conditioning: Complete.][Culinary Drill: Complete.]
He let out a shaky laugh. "Complete, my ass. I feel like I've been chewed up and spit out."
But the screen flickered again.
[Next Task: Mental Training]
— Study 1 Advanced Recipe/Theory Module from the System Archive.
— Memorize 10 random culinary terms.
Vincent groaned and sat up. "You've got to be kidding me. My body's dying and now you want me to cram like a college student?"
The System, of course, gave no reply.
A flood of data suddenly filled his vision—glowing diagrams, recipes far more complex than anything he had seen, theory notes about molecular gastronomy, heat transfer, flavor balance. His eyes burned as he forced himself to read through every line, his brain screaming for rest.
Halfway through, his vision blurred. His head dropped forward, almost smacking the bedside table. "No. No, no, no…" He slapped his cheeks hard. "You're not quitting now."
He pressed on, dragging the knowledge into his brain as if it were molten metal. By the end, the recipe burned itself into his memory.
Then came the terms. Ten random words shot across his vision like flashes of lightning—Julienne. Umami. Deglaze. Consommé. Mirepoix. Emulsion. Al Dente. Chiffonade. Demi-glace. Fermentation.
He had to repeat them all three times under a timer. His tongue tangled. Sweat dripped into his mouth. But somehow, gritting his teeth, he made it through.
[Mental Training: Complete.]
Vincent collapsed to his knees in relief. But before he could even breathe, the screen lit again.
[Final Task: System Synchronization]— Calibration process.— Meditate for 30 minutes.