Liam woke with a sharp inhale, his eyes snapping open like the recoil of a gun. The phantom sensation of searing electricity still clung to his nerves, lingering like a warning. The dream—if it could be called that—was fresh, vivid, and infuriating. Death by a lightning snake. Again. The humiliation of dying so easily soured his mood like spoiled wine. He scowled, jaw tightening.
Without hesitation, he reached into his storage space where the two magic cores pulsed faintly. The cores of the demonic rabbits—still warm, still potent. Liam stared at them with dead eyes, then swallowed them one after the other without flinching. The cores burned on the way down, but he didn't wince. Pain was irrelevant.
A ripple surged through his core. The throbbing ache that had gnawed at his insides—the broken, fragile mana channels—ceased their torment. He opened his status screen. Mana: 70/70. The numbers were steady. Clean. Whole again.
Liam exhaled slowly and leaned back against the cold headboard of the hotel bed, his expression unreadable. He wasn't relieved. Just… less annoyed. A moment of stillness passed as he stared at the ceiling, running through different scenarios in his mind.
"I need to stop dying like a fool," he muttered. It wasn't fear speaking—just observation.
The System, ever present, broke the silence.
[SYSTEM]: You're misusing mana. It's not just for skills. You can coat your body. Your weapons. Enhance your physicality. You're bleeding power without realizing it.
Liam narrowed his eyes.
"Then show me."
[SYSTEM]: Clear your mind. Focus on your heartbeat.
He closed his eyes. The sounds of the city outside—the honking horns, the distant voices, the occasional siren—faded to nothing. He stripped his mind of thought, layer by layer, until the only thing left was the quiet thump in his chest.
"Good," the System said. [system]: Now, focus on the blood. Track it. Feel it.
Minutes passed. Then twenty. Then forty. Time lost meaning as Liam sat cross-legged in the dark room. Sweat beaded on his brow, but he remained still. Somewhere deep in his wrists, he felt it—the slow, deliberate push of blood through his veins.
Then it happened.
Like a dam breaking, a force surged inside him. His mana was no longer a hidden well but a current flowing along every nerve, every vessel. He seized control of it with ruthless precision, bending it to his will.
His body ignited in a silent burst. A colorless aura cloaked his form, shimmering faintly in the low light. The air bent around him, pulled by something unseen. Papers rustled. The curtains danced. His breath came slower now, heavier, each exhale laced with power.
He stood. The carpet curled slightly beneath his feet. The wall opposite him suddenly looked fragile, like it might not survive a single strike.
Thirty seconds. That's how long the aura lasted.
Mana: 0/70.
[SYSTEM]: Impressive. But you're depleted. Also—
[SYSTEM]: You haven't done your Daily Quest.
Liam blinked. An icon pulsed faintly in the corner of the interface. 'QUESTS'. New.
He tapped it. Four options appeared:
Daily Quest
Monthly Quest
Yearly Quest
Random Quest
He selected "Daily."
[DAILY QUEST]
Push-ups: 0 / 100
Sit-ups: 0 / 100
Run: 100m
Reward: +5 Attribute Points
Liam didn't hesitate. He dropped to the floor and began the push-ups. Each rep forced a dull ache into his shoulders and chest, but he moved like a machine, expression empty. By the time he reached 100, his arms trembled under his weight. He rolled onto his back without resting and started the sit-ups. Each motion scraped fire down his abdomen.
He finished with his body screaming, but his mind was set on finishing . Every second of discomfort was another number he had to erase from his calculations.
He slipped into his hoodie and jogged down the fire escape into the alley behind the hotel. It was dark. Damp. A stray cat hissed and darted away. Liam ran the 100 meters in silence. His breath was ragged by the end, but there was no one to see the exhaustion on his face.
Lights flashed near the street. Police.
He ducked low , Liam watched them as he melted back into the shadows and went silently back to his room.
Once inside, he showered. The water was hot, scalding almost, but he welcomed it. It peeled away the sweat, the grime, the tension—but not the thoughts.
After drying off, he called for room service. Steak. Potatoes. Something heavy.
He ate in silence, eyes on the glowing interface. No wasted movements. No unnecessary emotions. Only data. Only survival.
Finished, he returned to bed. His limbs ached. His mind, for once, was quiet. He let the darkness take him again—not because he trusted it, but because he was preparing for the next encounter.
He would not die to a lightning snake again.
And if he did—he would remember how