A thousand days.
Two years, nine months, and five days.
Having completed today's mission, Hawke, showering in the gymnasium shower room, once again summoned the cheat interface visible only to himself.
Looking at the progress bar, which showed him only one day away from completing his merit and activating his "Microcosmic Training," he still felt like he was dreaming.
After all punching ten thousand times a day, continuously for a thousand days—easy to say, but far more difficult to do.
Hawke sometimes wondered how he managed to keep going.
Perhaps it was because he was inherently unyielding?
Or perhaps it had something to do with this being the Marvel Universe.
Hawke didn't know.
But...
one thing was certain.
"One day."
"Just one day."
After today, he could activate the cheat tomorrow.
"Microcosmic Training..."
"I wonder if it's what I'm imagining,"
Hawke thought.
In his memory, there was only one thing he could associate with "Microcosmic Training."
If it was truly what he envisioned,then the future was promising!
According to the ancient Greek philosopher Democritus, all things are composed of atoms, and a miniature universe exists within the human body.
This is called the microcosm!
Cultivating the microcosm means constantly stimulating one's own life force energy, successfully activating the hidden microcosm within.
Through continuous practice, one can enhance one's microcosm, and then, by igniting it, gain combat power that transcends the laws of physics.
Hawke remembered an anime series from his past life that depicted the microcosm.
It was called
Saint Seiya!
Bronze Saints mastered the first five senses and tapped into the sixth.
Silver Saints comprehended the sixth and tapped into the seventh.
And Gold Saints comprehended and mastered the seventh.
But above the seventh, there was the eighth, and even the ninth.
Hawke recalled fragments of the Saint Seiya series from his past life.
A moment later, Hawke regained consciousness,as if a thought had occurred to him.
He shook his head and smiled.
He wasn't even sure if the microcosm he had created was the one he remembered, so why dwell on it so much?
And he had no intention of punching Odin or kicking Zeus.
The most important point.
He'd been in this world for seventeen years.
Even before he turned fifteen, before cheats were even available, he'd already mentally prepared himself to face this bloody world without them.
So...
"Attitude is crucial."
"The greater the expectations now, the greater the disappointment if they don't pan out."
Hawke thought, brushing away the distracting thoughts.
He wrung out his washed T-shirt and placed it in a plastic bag beside him, along with his freshly washed pants.
Then, wrapping himself in a bath towel and wiping his hair with it, he pushed open the stall door.
With a thud,the shower room door was pushed open, and a thin figure appeared, seemingly pushed in from outside.
The thin figure stumbled a few steps before falling flat on his butt onto the tiled shower floor.
"Who's this..."
"Peter?"
Hawke raised an eyebrow as he watched the original Spider-Spirit, who had been pushed in from outside and landed on his butt.
Peter had also spotted Hawke emerging from the shower room.
He looked a little embarrassed.
Just as he was about to greet Hawke, a classmate he'd barely interacted with, a burst of laughter erupted from outside.
Then, Flesh Thompson, the tall, burly captain of the school's football team, nicknamed "Lightning" and also known as the "Midtown Bully," entered, laughing, clutching a football and accompanied by his three henchmen.
The next second,the laughter died abruptly.
Hawke, who had just emerged from a cubicle, wiping his damp hair with one hand and wringing a plastic bag of laundry with the other, his lower body wrapped in a towel, cast his gaze upon Thompson as he entered.
Thompson was tall and strong.
Hawke was no less impressive.
Having consistently thrown ten thousand punches daily for nine hundred and ninety-nine days, Hawke possessed a muscular physique.
And it was unlike those muscles cultivated in the gym by technology and harsh words.
His arms were brimming with power, not exaggerated or exaggerated, but rather brimming with explosive force.
The towel tied around his waist created a shallow indentation above his hips, further emphasizing the tightness of his midsection.
His abdominal muscles were clearly defined, eight muscles neatly arranged like a piece of finely crafted armor.
Their eyes met, and the air seemed to freeze at that moment. It's no secret that in American schools, there's a clear system of contempt, or perhaps even bullying.
Logically, Hawk, an orphan and parentless, would have been a target of bullying simply because of his family background.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.
It wasn't that he'd previously encountered the school bullies, so they knew he wasn't someone to be trifled with.
The reason they didn't bother him was simple.
After all whether it was his looks or his physique, Hawk, in no way evoked the word "easy to bully."
Of course.
Over the past three years, the school bullies hadn't bothered him, so he naturally had no desire to stand up for others.
No one is anyone's savior.
This time was no different.
Hawke withdrew his gaze, pulled a clean T-shirt and pants from his backpack on the lounge chair, put them back on, put the plastic bag back into his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and walked towards Flash Thompson, who was standing by the shower room door.
Flash Thompson frowned as he watched Hawke approach him.
He knew Hawke.
After all, it would be hard not to know someone who had been doing 10,000 boxing rings in a corner of the gym every day for over two years.
But to say they were familiar wasn't the least bit true.
Hawke never attended any gatherings or even parties. Although he could be seen at school every day, he seemed to be living in a parallel world.
Flash Thompson looked at Hawke, who had stopped in front of him.
"Hawk..."
"Please move aside."
"..."
Flash Thompson instinctively moved aside.
The three henchmen behind him were about to say something, but the moment they met Hawke's azure eyes, which seemed to be indifferent to everything, they also obeyed the call of their hearts and moved aside.
"Thank you."
Hawke looked at Flash Thompson who had made way and said thank you calmly, then left the shower room on his own.
Flash Thompson watched Hawke's disappearing back, frowning, and it was unclear what he was thinking.
At this moment,the three henchmen cried out in surprise.
"Shit."
"Boss, Peter ran away."
"What?"
Flash Thompson came back to his senses and saw Peter Parker running after Hawke while he was not paying attention.
He immediately reacted and roared.
"Chase him."
"Nerdy Parker, stop right there."
"..."
(End of this chapter)