The next few days passed smoothly, with little drama. Steven had become the star student at Sunny Heights High School. Teachers consistently praised him for his outstanding performance and encouraged other students to learn from him. Many of his classmates approached him with questions about various topics and lectures. Additionally, Steven was now a reserve player on the school's basketball team. His popularity in class grew steadily each day, and several female students became his fans, erupting in cheers whenever he made a dunk during games.
This was the fifth day since he got his system. The morning sun crept lazily over the rooftops as Steven made his way to school. His usual route took him through a narrow alley tucked between two buildings—a shortcut that shaved five minutes off the walk. In the afternoons, the alley became a hangout for college students. The air would be thick with cigarette smoke, loud laughter, and the occasional sound of cards slapping against the pavement as they played poker or gambled small cash. But in the early hours, the alley remained quiet, undisturbed, and for Steven, it had always been a peaceful path.
Today, however, was different.
As Steven turned the corner into the alley, his steps slowed. Two older boys—clearly college students—stood at the far end, partially blocking the way. Both were tall, muscular, and covered in tattoos. One had a snarling bear inked across his arm, the other sported a dragon coiling up his neck. Their faces were familiar—not from school, but from the kind of gossip that traveled through classrooms like wildfire. These were the sort who had long stopped caring about academics and now spent their time looking for trouble.
As Steven approached, they stepped forward to block his path.
"Are you Steven Blake?" asked the one with the bear tattoo, his tone deceptively casual.
Steven stopped in his tracks. His heartbeat quickened, but he kept his expression as neutral as possible. "Yes," he replied, trying to mask the nervousness creeping into his voice.
The two boys exchanged a grin.
"Yo, this twerp's got guts," the dragon-necked one said, eyeing Steven like a prize at a fair.
"Yeah, can't believe Leon got busted by this twig," the bear-tattooed guy added with a snort.
Steven's eyes narrowed slightly. So this was about Leon.
"Nah, bro, he just lost a game," said the dragon.
"You know nothing! He also lost his girl."
"What? You mean Veronica?"
"Yup. First, he didn't even get a 'yes' from her. Then this kid shows up and suddenly, she's talking to him."
They spoke like Steven wasn't even there, their words filled with condescension and mockery. But Steven caught on quickly—this wasn't random. Leon had sent them.
"Are you here because of Leon?" Steven asked quietly.
The two finally turned their full attention on him. Bear-tattoo guy smirked. "Look at that. Sharp one, aren't ya?"
"Yeah, kid. You guessed right. And here's your reward."
A fist struck Steven in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He staggered back, but before he could recover, a kick caught his side, followed by another punch. The blows came fast, rough, and with practiced cruelty.
"He said to rough you up a little. Nothing too serious," the dragon said, his foot slamming into Steven's ribs.
Steven fell to the ground, curling up in pain as the assault continued. His mind raced. Despite his improved stats—strength, agility, stamina—he hadn't trained them in combat. He had the power, but no technique to wield it.
Eventually, the beating stopped. Steven lay gasping on the ground, his shirt stained with dust and boot marks. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and every breath burned in his chest.
"Stay away from Veronica," one of them said as they walked away. "Or next time, we won't go so easy."
Their footsteps faded into the distance, leaving only the silence of the alley and Steven's ragged breathing. His vision blurred. Pain pulsed in every limb. Before he could push himself up, the world around him darkened.
[Critical State Detected. Body entering unconscious recovery.]
When Steven next opened his eyes, he was lying on a narrow cot in a small room filled with the faint scent of antiseptic. Sunlight streamed through the window, and a cool breeze stirred the white curtains.
A young woman sat beside him, flipping through a textbook. She was striking, with long black hair tied into a neat ponytail, wearing a light blue hoodie and jeans. She glanced up as Steven stirred.
"Oh, you're awake! That's good," she said, setting her book down.
"Where… am I?" Steven croaked, his throat dry.
"You're in a clinic—Dong Hao Clinic," she replied. "My family runs this place. I found you lying in the alley this morning. You looked pretty banged up, so I brought you here."
Steven tried to sit up but winced from the soreness.
"Thanks... for helping me," he said.
The girl rolled her eyes playfully. "You're welcome. But don't think I'm impressed or anything. You looked like a lost puppy."
Steven smiled weakly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She handed him a cup of water. "You should go home and rest. I've already patched you up. You're lucky—you recover fast."
Steven nodded, standing up slowly. His body still ached, but he could walk. He made his way out of the clinic and paused at the door.
"I never got your name," he said.
The girl gave a small wave without turning around. "It's Lin. Don't get beat up again, Steven Blake."
Back home, Steven slipped in through the back door to avoid alerting his parents. He headed straight to the bathroom, where he peeled off his ruined clothes and stepped into a hot shower. As the water flowed over his bruises, he clenched his fists.
"Leon… You'll pay for this."
He dried off and went to his room, his mind spinning. The pain had faded somewhat, but the humiliation burned deeper. He might've had improved physical stats, but that meant nothing if he couldn't defend himself.
"I can't keep relying on luck. I need to fight back."
He sat at his desk and opened his laptop, searching for martial arts tutorials. Videos of basic boxing, Taekwondo forms, Karate stances, and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu holds filled his screen. Steven absorbed everything like a sponge. His improved intelligence and memory, boosted by the system, made it easier to grasp complex movements and apply them quickly.
[Learning Martial Arts Techniques.]
[Skill Acquired: Basic Boxing (Proficiency: 3/100)]
[Skill Acquired: Basic Taekwondo (Proficiency: 2/100)]
[Skill Acquired: Basic Karate (Proficiency: 2/100)]
[Skill Acquired: Basic Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (Proficiency: 1/100)]
He cleared a space in his room and practiced the moves—jabs, crosses, roundhouse kicks, foot sweeps, elbow strikes. His coordination grew sharper, his balance more stable. What once felt foreign now became second nature.
He practiced relentlessly. By mid-afternoon, sweat soaked through his shirt. His muscles ached, but it was a different pain—productive. Controlled.
[Boxing Proficiency +7]
[Taekwondo Proficiency +6]
[Karate Proficiency +8]
[Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Proficiency +5]
[Agility +1. Strength +1. Coordination +1.]
Evening came and still Steven trained, practicing combinations in the backyard. His movements were no longer stiff or hesitant. They flowed with a quiet confidence.
When night fell, he finally paused and collapsed into a chair. Every fiber of his body was tired, but he felt different—stronger, sharper, more focused.
He opened his system panel.
[Super Growth System]Skills:
Boxing: Intermediate (19/100)
Taekwondo: Intermediate (16/100)
Karate: Intermediate (18/100)
Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu: Intermediate (16/100)
He smiled. "This much should be enough—for now."
Hungry, Steven made his way to the kitchen. He prepped ingredients quickly, moving with practiced ease. The rhythmic clatter of the knife on the cutting board felt therapeutic.
He stir-fried chicken with vegetables, scrambled eggs with green onions, and prepared fried rice. The aroma filled the kitchen. He made extra portions and plated dishes for his parents as well.
His mother peeked in from the living room. "Did you cook all this?"
Steven smiled. "Yeah. I figured I owed you both dinner."
His father looked up from his newspaper. "You're full of surprises lately."
Steven sat down and took a bite. "Just trying to improve," he said simply.
[Family Relationship: +2]
[Hunger Satisfied. Physical Recovery Accelerated.]
[Basic Cooking (Mastered). Upgrading to Advanced Cooking.]
With the last notification lots of information related to cooking appeared in Steven's mind, from traditional cooking techniques, to modern cooking methods, that relies on all sorts of modern tools.
That night, Steven lay in bed, his body sore but his mind at ease. The pain from the morning still lingered, but it no longer felt like weakness. It had become fuel.
He stared at the ceiling and exhaled deeply.
"This is just the beginning."