I woke up at 5:30 AM to every muscle in my body screaming in protest.
Worth it.
I checked my phone: a missed call from Mom at 11:47 PM and a text: *"Don't push yourself too hard, baby. I noticed the dishes in the sink. You never do extra chores unless something's bothering you. Love you."*
She knew me too well. Even working two shifts, she noticed everything.
I texted back: *"Everything's fine, Mom. Just trying harder at school. Love you too."*
Not a lie. I *was* trying harder. I just left out the part about the mysterious system that turned my life into an RPG.
I dragged myself to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. My reflection looked different somehow—not dramatically, but subtly. My eyes seemed sharper. More focused. Like I'd found something to aim at.
The courtyard workout was brutal. My body hadn't recovered from yesterday, but I pushed through anyway.
Pushups: 28 → 32. *Ding. Strength Shard +1.*
Squats: 56 → 61. *Ding. Strength Shard +1.*
But I needed to figure out Stamina Shards. All these exercises were strength-focused—short bursts of maximum effort. For endurance, I needed sustained activity.
I started jogging laps around the apartment building. One lap. Two. Three.
My lungs burned. My legs felt like lead. But I kept going.
Five laps. Six. Seven.
By the eighth lap, I thought I might die. But I pushed to ten before collapsing against the wall, gasping for air.
No notification.
"Come on," I wheezed. "That wasn't enough?"
Then I realized—just like with Strength, I needed to establish a baseline first, then *beat* it. The system only rewarded growth, not just effort.
Tomorrow, I'd need to run eleven laps. Then twelve. Each time I broke my endurance record, I'd earn Stamina Shards.
"Fine," I muttered. "Long-term investment."
I showered, changed, and headed to school. On the bus, I studied AP Literature, grinding Studying EXP.
*Ding. 8/100.*
*Ding. 9/100.*
When I arrived at Silverbrook, Daniel was waiting by the front gates.
"Morning," he said, falling into step beside me. "You look like death."
"Thanks. You're a true friend."
"Seriously though, you okay? You're walking like my grandmother."
"Just started working out," I admitted. "My body's not used to it."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you work out?"
"Since yesterday."
He laughed. "Man, what happened to you? Two days ago you were invisible. Now you're answering every question in class and starting a fitness routine?"
"Maybe I got tired of being invisible," I said simply.
Daniel nodded slowly. "Fair enough. Just... be careful. Marcus has been asking people about you."
"Asking what?"
"Why you suddenly got smart. If you're cheating somehow. If you've got rich parents who've been hiding or something." Daniel lowered his voice. "He's threatened. And threatened rich kids are dangerous rich kids."
Before I could respond, a voice called out behind us: "Carter!"
We turned. Jake Morrison—6'3", star quarterback, Marcus's best friend—was jogging toward us with two other guys from the football team.
My muscles tensed. This was it. The retaliation Daniel warned me about.
But Jake wasn't scowling. He looked... curious?
"You're Carter, right? The scholarship kid who solved that crazy calculus problem yesterday?"
"Yeah," I said cautiously. "That's me."
"How tall are you?"
I blinked. "What?"
"Your height. How tall?"
"Uh... six-one, I think. Maybe six-two."
Jake's eyes lit up. "You play basketball?"
"No."
"Ever played?"
"Not really. Some pickup games in middle school—"
"Tryouts are today after school," Jake interrupted. "Coach Williams is desperate. We lost three seniors to graduation and only have eight guys on the roster. We need at least ten for a full practice squad."
"I don't—"
"You're tall, you're skinny so you're probably fast, and if you're smart enough to do calculus in your head, you can learn plays." Jake grinned. "Plus, Marcus *hates* basketball. He'll lose his mind if you make the team."
That last part got my attention.
Daniel elbowed me. "Dude. Basketball team. That's huge for a scholarship kid."
He was right. At Silverbrook, athletics were dominated by rich kids who'd had private coaches since age five. Scholarship students were lucky to make JV, let alone Varsity.
But more importantly...
Basketball was intensive cardio. Constant running. Perfect for grinding Stamina Shards.
And it was a team sport, which meant social interactions. Charm Shards.
And learning plays would require studying game theory and strategy. Intelligence Shards.
The system potential was *massive*.
"What time are tryouts?" I asked.
Jake's grin widened. "3:30 PM in the main gym. Don't be late." He jogged off, his friends following.
Daniel stared at me. "Are you actually going to try out?"
"Why not?"
"Because you've never played organized basketball in your life?"
"So? That's what tryouts are for." I started walking toward the building. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"
"You could humiliate yourself in front of the entire athletic department?"
"Already been humiliated for three years. At least this time I'd be choosing it."
Daniel laughed and shook his head. "You really are different. Okay, I'll come watch. This is either going to be amazing or a complete disaster."
"My money's on disaster," I admitted. "But I'm doing it anyway."
---
The school day passed in a blur of classes and grinding. I participated in every discussion, answered every question, and even helped a confused student with chemistry during study hall.
By lunch, my stats had grown:
---
**Intelligence:** Level 1 (58/100 Shards) ⬆
**Charm:** Level 1 (18/100 Shards) ⬆
**Studying Skill:** Level 2 (23/100 EXP) ⬆
---
Daniel and I sat at the same middle-territory table as yesterday. This time, two other scholarship students—Maria Gonzalez from my English class and Kevin Wu from AP Bio—asked if they could join us.
"Is it true you told Marcus off yesterday?" Maria asked, her eyes wide.
"I wouldn't say I told him off," I said. "I just... didn't back down."
"That's basically the same thing," Kevin said. "Dude, you're like a legend among the scholarship kids now. People are calling you 'the guy who stopped being invisible.'"
---
**[CHARM SHARD EARNED: +1]**
**Social status elevated among peer group.**
**Current Charm Shards: 19/100**
---
We spent lunch talking about classes, teachers, and the ridiculous things rich kids complained about. (Yesterday, someone in my History class had thrown a fit because their Tesla was the *wrong color*.)
It felt good. Normal. Like I was actually part of something.
When the final bell rang, my stomach was in knots. Basketball tryouts.
I'd told Jake I played pickup games in middle school, but that was generous. I'd played maybe five games total, and I'd been terrible at all of them.
But I had something now that I didn't have then: the system.
I changed in the locker room, wearing my only pair of athletic shorts and a plain white t-shirt. Around me, other guys wore designer Nike and Under Armour gear that probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget.
"Carter, right?"
I turned. A tall Black kid with a shaved head extended his hand. "Troy Matthews. Junior. Point guard."
"Ethan Carter. Senior. No position because I have no idea what I'm doing."
Troy laughed. "Honest. I like that. You here because Jake recruited you?"
"Something like that."
"Jake recruits half the tall kids at this school. Don't worry about it. Coach Williams is cool. Just hustle and don't quit, and you'll do fine."
We headed to the gym. About fifteen guys were already there, stretching and shooting around. Some I recognized from classes. Others were underclassmen I'd never seen before.
Coach Williams stood at center court—a broad-shouldered man in his fifties with graying hair and a whistle around his neck. He'd played college ball at Syracuse, according to school legend, and still had the physique to prove it.
"Alright, listen up!" Coach Williams's voice echoed through the gym. "We're running a basic conditioning test first. Line up on the baseline."
We lined up. My heart was pounding.
"Suicides," Coach Williams said. "Baseline to free-throw line and back. Baseline to half-court and back. Baseline to opposite free-throw line and back. Baseline to opposite baseline and back. That's one rep. We're doing five. If you quit, you're done. If you throw up, you're done. If you give me anything less than 100%, you're done. Clear?"
A chorus of "Yes, Coach!"
"On my whistle!"
*Tweet!*
We exploded forward.
I'd never run suicides before, but the concept was simple: sprint, touch the line, sprint back. Repeat until your lungs give out.
By the second rep, my lungs were on fire.
By the third, my legs felt like concrete.
By the fourth, three guys had quit and one was bent over a trash can.
I kept going.
*Just one more. Just one more.*
The fifth suicide was pure agony. My vision tunneled. My muscles screamed. But I finished.
I collapsed on the baseline, gasping for air, my heart trying to break out of my ribcage.
And then:
---
**[EXTREME PHYSICAL EXERTION DETECTED]**
**Sustained cardiovascular effort maintained to exhaustion.**
**Endurance baseline established: 5 suicide sprints**
**To earn Stamina Shards, exceed this baseline in future training.**
**Current Stamina Shards: 0/100**
**Note: This was your first true endurance test. Next time you complete 6 or more reps, you will earn Stamina Shards.**
---
I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't breathe.
So that's how Stamina worked. I needed to establish baselines through exhaustion, then beat them.
Fine. Next time, I'd do six reps.
Coach Williams walked among us, checking on the guys who'd finished. Eleven of us remained out of the original fifteen.
"Good work," he said. "That's what I want to see. Heart. Now let's see if you can actually play basketball."
The next two hours were brutal.
We ran drills: dribbling, passing, shooting, defensive slides. I was terrible at all of it. My form was garbage. My shot barely reached the rim. I couldn't dribble without looking at the ball.
But I didn't quit.
Every time I failed, I tried again. When Coach Williams corrected my shooting form, I adjusted and kept shooting. When Troy showed me how to properly execute a chest pass, I practiced until my arms went numb.
---
**[SKILL DISCOVERY IN PROGRESS...]**
**Repetitive physical action with intent to improve detected.**
**Learning basketball fundamentals...**
**Progress: 15%**
---
A new skill? The system could create new skills based on my activities?
That changed everything.
I pushed harder. Focused more. Every drill, every rep, I gave it everything.
By the end of tryouts, I was drenched in sweat and could barely stand. But the system had rewarded me:
---
**[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED!]**
**BASKETBALL FUNDAMENTALS - LEVEL 1 (0/100 EXP)**
**Effect: Basic proficiency in basketball skills (dribbling, passing, shooting, defense)**
**Skill improvement: +50% (increases by +10% per level)**
**Note: Skill EXP earned through practice and game performance.**
---
Coach Williams blew his whistle. "Alright, gather up!"
We formed a semi-circle around him, everyone exhausted.
"I saw some good things today. I saw some bad things. But most importantly, I saw effort." His eyes scanned the group. "I'm posting the roster tomorrow morning outside my office. If your name's on it, practice starts Monday at 3:30 PM. If your name's not on it, I appreciate you trying out. Any questions?"
Silence.
"Good. Hit the showers. And drink water—I don't want anyone passing out on me."
We dispersed. In the locker room, Troy clapped me on the shoulder.
"You've got no skills, man," he said bluntly. "But you've got heart. Coach likes heart."
"Think I made it?"
"Honestly? No idea. There are eleven of us and Coach needs ten. Someone's getting cut." Troy shrugged. "But you didn't quit. That counts for something."
I showered, changed, and found Daniel waiting outside the gym.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
"I was the worst one there."
"But did you quit?"
"No."
"Then you didn't lose." Daniel grinned. "Come on, let's get food. You look like you're going to pass out."
We went to a cheap taco place off-campus—one of the few restaurants scholarship kids could afford. Over tacos and water, I checked my updated stats:
---
**[DAILY PROGRESS REPORT - DAY 3]**
**Strength:** Level 1 (22/100 Shards) ⬆
**Stamina:** Level 1 (0/100 Shards) *Baseline established*
**Intelligence:** Level 1 (63/100 Shards) ⬆
**Charm:** Level 1 (22/100 Shards) ⬆
**Skills:**
- Studying: Level 2 (31/100 EXP) ⬆
- Basketball Fundamentals: Level 1 (12/100 EXP) ⬆ *NEW!*
---
The Basketball skill had gained 12 EXP just from today's tryout. If I made the team, I'd be practicing five days a week. That was massive EXP potential.
Plus team bonding for Charm. Plus conditioning for Stamina. Plus strategic thinking for Intelligence.
I *needed* to make this team.
"You're doing that thing again," Daniel said.
"What thing?"
"That intense stare-into-space thing you've been doing lately. Like you're calculating something."
"Just thinking about tomorrow."
"The roster?"
"Yeah."
Daniel raised his soda. "Here's hoping you made it. Would be pretty cool to see a scholarship kid on Varsity basketball."
We clinked cups.
I went home, studied until midnight (pushing Studying EXP to 47/100), and fell into bed exhausted.
Tomorrow, I'd find out if I made the team.
Tomorrow, I'd continue grinding my stats.
Tomorrow, I'd get one step closer to Level 2.
And when I finally hit 100 Shards in any stat, when Equal Growth activated...
Marcus Whitmore would realize he'd picked a fight with the wrong scholarship kid.
---
**[END CHAPTER 4]**
**[CURRENT STATUS - END OF DAY 3]**
**Strength:** Level 1 (22/100 Shards)
**Stamina:** Level 1 (0/100 Shards) - *Baseline: 5 suicide sprints*
**Intelligence:** Level 1 (63/100 Shards)
**Charm:** Level 1 (22/100 Shards)
**Skills:**
- Studying: Level 2 (47/100 EXP)
- Basketball Fundamentals: Level 1 (12/100 EXP)
**Days Until Projected First Stat Level Up:** 3-4 days