The rain showed no mercy. It fell in relentless sheets, soaking Haneul to the bone as he knelt in the alley, fists raw and aching from yesterday's beatings. The System hovered before him like a cold, patient teacher, the holographic interface glowing faintly in the puddles at his feet. Every drop of rain felt like fire against his skin, a harsh reminder that the world didn't care about weakness.
[Quest: Land 100 punches before sunrise.][Progress: 0/100]
Haneul rose shakily to his feet, trembling from exhaustion, every joint stiff and screaming for rest. He glanced at his reflection in a puddle—rain streaked across his face, the birthmark on his cheek a vivid red in contrast to his pale, soaked skin. He didn't recognize the boy staring back. Too thin, too fragile, yet… there was a spark now, a glimmer of something buried deep beneath years of humiliation.
He threw his first punch. The motion was awkward, uncoordinated, a weak swing that barely dented the puddle in front of him. Pain shot through his knuckles, sharp and punishing, and he almost fell to the ground in defeat. The System chimed softly:
"Shift weight forward. Rotate hips. Focus power through the knuckles. Precision over force."
Haneul's body trembled with every repetition, yet he adjusted, swinging again. With each strike, his form improved slightly, his motions becoming more natural, more intentional. The rain blurred into a backdrop of rhythmic pounding as he began to lose himself in the motion. By the twentieth punch, his lungs burned, each inhale a rasp of fire, and the concrete beneath him seemed impossibly hard.
[Progress: 20/100][Strength +0.3][Endurance +0.2]
By the fiftieth punch, fatigue clawed at him like a living thing. His vision wavered, the world bending under the weight of exhaustion. One misstep, one missed rotation of the shoulder, and he stumbled, almost falling. The System's prompt reminded him of imperfection:
"Failure is not shame. It is data. Learn from the misstep."
That moment stung more than any physical pain. He had always wanted to be strong, wanted to prove he wasn't Spot-Face anymore. And yet, here he was, weak as ever, almost giving in to the rain and the ache. But the purple light—the glow that now started crawling up his forearms—reminded him that progress existed, however small.
As he pushed through to eighty punches, the adrenaline surged in his veins, tingling with an unnatural energy that made his muscles feel alive despite the exhaustion. Each strike connected with more force, more precision, and the System rewarded him:
[Skill Unlocked: Steady Footwork II][Strength +0.5][Reflex +0.3]
But then came failure again. Ninety-five punches in, his arm locked mid-swing, sending him crashing to the wet concrete. The cold soaked into his bones, and for the first time in a long while, despair rose unbidden. He gritted his teeth, tasting blood from a split lip, the weight of his own limitations pressing down. He could have given up. He almost did. Yet the timer ticked relentlessly, the System's voice calm but insistent:
"Endure. Adapt. Overcome. One hundred punches."
With a shuddering breath, Haneul rose once more. Each punch after that was agony. Every swing burned, every breath screamed in protest, but he fought past it. When the final, one-hundredth punch struck, he collapsed fully onto the ground, soaked, bruised, bleeding, yet alive in a way he hadn't felt before.
[Quest Complete: Land 100 punches before sunrise.][Reward: Boxing Perk – 'Precision Jab I'][New Quest Available: "Endure the Pain, Embrace the Growth"]
Haneul lay there, staring at the rain, feeling the raw ache in his limbs and the pride in his chest at once. He had lost to fatigue, lost to pain, yet he had won a different kind of battle—the first victory over himself. The alley was silent except for the storm, but inside, something had shifted. He could feel it—the muscles beneath his thin frame beginning to respond, the faint purple glow coursing with potential.
For the first time in years, Haneul whispered to himself with a fragile, trembling smile:
"I'm not… just Spot-Face. Not anymore. Tomorrow… I hit harder."