The morning light crept gently through the thin curtains of Jason's small apartment, painting faint streaks of gold on the walls. Sophie stirred awake on the narrow bed that had become her comfort zone ever since she returned from the hospital. She rubbed her eyes, yawned softly, and folded her palms together.
"Dear God," she whispered, her voice a mixture of innocence and determination, "thank you for keeping me alive. Thank you for my big brother, Jason. Please keep him safe today, and… maybe give him some happiness too. He works too hard."
She smiled faintly after her prayer, swinging her legs off the bed. Her body still carried the traces of her long recovery, but every morning she felt stronger, lighter, and more grateful.
Stepping out of her room, she expected to hear the clanging of pans, the sizzle of eggs, or the cheerful sound of Jason humming to himself while making breakfast. That was their usual rhythm: Jason always woke up earlier, always trying to take care of her before he left for work.
But today, the apartment was quiet.
The living room was empty. The kitchen counter was bare, no Jason in sight, no apron slung on his shoulders, no mess of toast crumbs or fried egg smell in the air.
Her heart skipped.
"Jason?" she called softly.
No answer.
She walked to his room, her tiny hands twisting nervously against each other. She pushed the door open, her voice louder this time.
"Jason!"
The room was empty. The bed, unmade but cold. No sign of him.
For a moment, fear rose inside her chest. Her imagination leapt to dark places—had something happened? Was he in trouble? He hadn't told her he'd be out early.
Just as her breath began to quicken, the door to the apartment creaked open.
Jason stumbled in, sweat dripping down his forehead, his shirt clinging to his chest. His breaths came in heavy waves as if he'd just been through a marathon. He carried a half-empty bottle of water in one hand, gulping small sips between words.
"There you are…" Sophie exhaled in relief, her brows furrowing. "You scared me!"
Jason gave her a crooked grin, though his chest was still heaving. He set the bottle down, dropped his bag near the wall, and pulled her into a tight, sweaty hug.
Sophie squirmed and wrinkled her nose. "Eww, Jason! You're all sticky!"
Jason chuckled, ruffling her hair. "That's why I told you—go check the kitchen. Your breakfast is waiting. And don't forget to shower, because now you've got my sweat all over you."
She made a face but couldn't help laughing with him. "You're the worst!"
"I know," Jason said lightly, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. His tone shifted, more serious now. "Listen, Soph—I'm heading to the gym today. Gonna start something new. Take a day off from work."
Sophie blinked. "The gym? You mean like… weightlifting and running?"
"Something like that," Jason replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder again. "I need to get stronger. And I can't do that if I'm just stuck at the workshop every day. Besides… I've got a system that won't stop bugging me about it."
Sophie tilted her head, her big eyes narrowing in concern. "But… did you eat? And what about work? Mr. Sam and the others will ask about you."
Jason grinned at her like he always did when he didn't want her to worry. "I'll be fine. Just a day off. You eat, shower, and relax, okay? I'll be back later."
Sophie stood in the doorway watching him, clutching her hands together. There was something different about him this morning—not just the sweat or the jogging outfit, but the determination in his voice. He wasn't simply Jason the tired worker, or Jason the protective big brother. He looked… driven, like he had stepped into a new role she couldn't quite understand.
"Bye, Jason," she said softly, her lips curving into a smile despite her worry. "Don't overdo it."
Jason winked, opened the door again, and disappeared into the morning streets, leaving Sophie standing there in her pajamas, wondering what her brother was turning himself into.
---
Jason jogged toward the gym, his mind racing almost as much as his heartbeat. The system's words from the night before echoed in his head:
"Training routine initialized. Increase stats by 20%. Report daily."
It wasn't just numbers anymore—it was survival. Each bead of sweat he spilled, each ache in his muscles, each mile he ran—it all meant progress. It all meant protecting Sophie, ensuring she never had to worry about hospitals or debt or hunger again.
The city around him blurred into the background. Jason had only one focus now.
And for the first time in a long while, he felt like he was finally moving toward something bigger than himself.
---
Jason had barely stepped past the glass doors of the neighborhood gym before a shimmer of light scattered before his eyes.
[SYSTEM ANALYSIS MODE: ACTIVE]
The words glowed faintly across his vision like a transparent screen. Jason blinked, almost stumbling, then realized what was happening: the system wasn't just awake—it was working. His gaze swept automatically across the first man he saw, a mountain of a bodybuilder pumping iron with shoulders as wide as the bench he sat on.
Immediately, stats floated up beside the man like a hologram only Jason could see:
NAME: Roland Tavers
HEIGHT: 6'3"
WEIGHT: 249 lbs
MUSCLE DENSITY: 92%
PHYSICAL STRENGTH RATING: 76
ENDURANCE RATING: 81
NOTES: Has competed in 4 regional strongman events. Favorite cheat meal: fried chicken.
Jason's mouth dropped open. What the hell—?
His eyes darted around the gym like a kid at a candy store. Everywhere he looked, numbers popped up. A lean woman on the treadmill: Stamina 88. A wiry old man grunting through curls: Strength 43. Even the bored teenager at the counter scrolling on his phone: Agility 52 (Jason blinked hard at that one, muttering under his breath, "No way…").
The temptation was real—he could have stood there cataloguing every single gym-goer for hours. He almost did, until—
"Yo, Jason?"
A heavy hand clapped his shoulder. He turned to see a tall, square-jawed man with chestnut skin, short curls, and arms that looked like carved stone. The guy was grinning, sweat darkening his sleeveless shirt.
Jason froze. He didn't recognize him at all. Grayson doesn't know this guy, he realized.
[SYSTEM UPDATE: IDENTIFICATION IN PROGRESS...]
A fresh profile slid into view:
NAME: Marcus "Big Marc" Daniels
AGE: 26
OCCUPATION: Mechanic, part-time trainer
HISTORY WITH HOST: Met Jason Tyler three months ago at this very gym. Helped him with deadlift form. Occasionally grab beers with him.
STRENGTH RATING: 69
ENDURANCE RATING: 72
NOTES: Good-natured. Talks too much. Secretly loves romance novels.
Jason blinked again, covering with a grin. "Marc! Hey, man. Long time."
Marc didn't notice the hesitation. "I see you back at it. Need a spotter? You look like you're gonna collapse just walking through the door."
Jason chuckled nervously. "Yeah, maybe. Been… out of it for a while."
"Don't worry. I got you." Marc thumped his back like a drum and steered him toward an open bench. "Let's see what you got."
---
The Struggle
Jason lowered himself onto the bench, palms clammy against the cold bar. He glanced at the weights Marc was already sliding on, his stomach tightening. Too much. Way too much.
But he didn't want to look weak. He pressed his back down, sucked in a breath, and lifted. The bar came off the rack—then immediately threatened to crush his chest.
"Push, bro, push!" Marc barked, catching it with one hand. Jason's arms trembled violently, sweat beading instantly at his temple. His teeth clenched so hard it felt like another one might chip loose.
The system chimed.
[WARNING: Current load exceeds recommended capacity for Host's present Strength stat.]
"No kidding!" Jason grunted out loud before he could stop himself. Marc raised an eyebrow but didn't ask.
They adjusted the weight, but even then Jason struggled. Every rep burned like fire licking through his shoulders and chest. His lungs heaved, his face flushed. Marc encouraged him between sets, but Jason knew—he was behind. His body wasn't matching his will.
Marc laughed when Jason dropped the bar too hard on the rack. "Man, you're out of practice. Don't worry. First week is always hell."
Jason forced a grin, though inside, frustration chewed at him. I've fought men bigger than this. Survived things worse than this. And yet… I can't even keep up with a damn workout?
---
Just as Jason tried to steady his breath, Marc's phone buzzed loudly. He pulled it from his pocket, frowned, then sighed.
"Gotta take this. Work emergency," Marc said. "You good solo?"
Jason nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "Yeah. Thanks, Marc."
"Don't quit early, man. You're stronger than you think." Marc clapped his shoulder again and jogged out, leaving Jason alone with the echo of clanging metal and grunts of strangers.
Jason sat there for a long moment, chest rising and falling, before the system's glow sharpened in front of him.
[SYSTEM DIRECTIVE: TRAINING ROUTINE INITIATED – DAY 1]
Objective: Complete routine to increase base attributes by 20%.
Routine Includes:
Warm-up jog (2 miles)
Resistance training (bench, squat, deadlift)
Core exercises (plank 5 minutes cumulative)
Cool down stretch
[Rewards: +Progress % toward Strength, Endurance, Agility upgrades.]
Jason rubbed his face, groaning. "You're not gonna let me quit, huh?"
[Affirmative.]
He sighed, rolling his shoulders. Fine.
---
Pushing Through
The next hour was brutal. Every jogged step on the treadmill felt like his knees were conspiring against him. His chest burned with every breath. Sweat poured down his back until his shirt clung like a second skin.
He groaned, cursed under his breath, and even laughed bitterly at himself more than once. But the system tracked every rep, every shaky plank second, every push of the squat bar.
[Plank duration: 2:11 / 5:00]
[Host shaking detected: Correction required.]
Jason growled. "I'm not shaking. I'm vibrating with power!"
The system gave no reply.
By the time he collapsed onto a mat for cooldown stretches, his limbs felt like wet noodles, his lungs like deflated balloons. He stared up at the ceiling, fighting dizziness.
[Day 1 routine complete.]
Jason raised a thumb weakly. "Yay."
[No immediate stat increase detected.]
[Progress recorded: +1% toward Strength, Endurance, Agility.]
"...One percent?" Jason wheezed, half-laughing, half-crying. "I nearly killed myself for one percent?"
[Correct. Consistency is required. Results compound.]
Jason lay there, staring at the flickering gym light overhead, then chuckled softly. "Consistency, huh? Guess you're right."
---
Heading Home
The gym had mostly emptied by the time Jason dragged himself outside. His legs felt heavy as bricks, but his spirit burned with something new—not triumph, not yet. But the quiet knowledge he had started.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
As he walked, he thought of Sophie—her laugh, her recovery, the way her eyes had brightened yesterday when she met his coworkers. He tightened his grip on his gym bag, whispering, "This is for you, kiddo."
The system flickered one last time before dimming:
[Affirmation: Motivation source acknowledged.]
Jason shook his head with a small smile and kept walking, the night air cooling the fire still burning in his chest.
---