Ren regretted his choices the very next morning.
The pain was everywhere.
Not a mild soreness.
Not simple fatigue.
No—his muscles protested with every movement as if they had conspired against him overnight.
He lay still for a few extra seconds on his narrow bed, staring at the cracked ceiling of his apartment.
Then he tried to sit up.
Bad idea.
“…Ah.”
His abs contracted violently, pulling a grimace from him that he quickly suppressed.
Ridiculous…
He let his head fall back onto the pillow for a second.
Then he took a deep breath.
And sat up anyway.
Because staying still wouldn’t change anything.
Morning light filtered into the Aster apartment.
Ren carefully placed his feet on the floor.
Every step toward the small kitchen brutally reminded him how far his body lagged behind everything else.
Kellan hadn’t been wrong.
His timing was starting to improve.
But his body…
…was still far behind.
He drank a glass of water in silence.
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Then froze.
A familiar sensation had just passed through his skull.
Not painful.
Not yet.
But clear.
[Behavioral analysis complete.]
Ren blinked.
The system window appeared, more stable than usual.
[Unlimited Evolution Human Potential]
Update: physical adaptation protocol initiated
His heart skipped slightly.
New…
The next lines displayed calmly.
Daily mission generated
Objective: stabilize host body
— 10 squats
— 10 push-ups
— 10 sit-ups
Frequency: daily
Reward: marginal compatibility improvement
Penalty on failure: negative evaluation adjustment
Ren stood motionless for several seconds.
Then exhaled softly.
“…Of course.”
The system’s tone held nothing encouraging.
Nothing motivating.
Just cold.
Clinical.
Like a protocol decided long ago.
But deep inside…
Something began to move.
Because for the first time—
He had a clear direction.
Measurable.
Controllable.
His fingers tightened slightly.
“…Let’s do this.”
A few minutes later, Ren stood in the same spot as the day before.
The floor was cold beneath his bare feet.
His body was already protesting before he even started.
He inhaled.
Then lowered into the first squat.
His legs trembled immediately.
Yesterday’s fatigue hadn’t disappeared.
Far from it.
But he continued.
Second.
Third.
By five, his breathing grew heavier.
By eight, his thighs were burning.
At ten—
He stayed at the bottom for a second.
Then slowly stood back up.
“…Okay.”
Not clean.
Not smooth.
But done.
[Partial objective validated.]
The push-ups were worse.
Much worse.
By the sixth, his arms were already shaking.
By the eighth, his rhythm broke.
At the tenth—
He stayed face-down on the floor for a few seconds, panting.
“…Damn…”
But he rolled onto his back.
Breathed deeply.
Then forced himself to finish the sit-ups.
When he finally completed them, his chest was rising and falling rapidly.
Sweat was already beading at his temple.
The system took a second before responding.
[Daily mission — completed]
Echo Compatibility: +0.2%
Current Compatibility: 2.3%
Ren stared at the number.
Small.
Pathetic.
But real.
His fingers slowly tightened against the floor.
“…It’s going up.”
Not fast.
Not easily.
But it was rising.
And for now…
…that was enough.
Later that morning at Astraeus, when Ren entered the classroom, several gazes slid toward him.
Subtle.
But present.
Not like before.
He took his seat without a word.
Pulled out his materials.
Acted like everything was normal.
But from the back of the room—
A certain pair of cold eyes briefly settled on him.
Then on his posture.
Then on his hands, still slightly tense from the morning’s effort.
A silent, analytical look passed through that gaze.
Before it turned away.
[External observation maintained.]
The system recorded the information.
As always.
Without emotion.
Without comment.
But this time…
Ren Aster’s trajectory had officially entered an active phase.
