Alexei
It was like floating in a void, weightless, detached, as if everything familiar had slipped away. But the strangest part was that I felt it wasn't the world around me that had changed—it was me. A blue light exploded in the distance, blinding and relentless. The sharp ringing that followed drilled into my mind, irritating, never stopping.
Beep...
The sound sharpened, becoming more distinct.
Beep...
And then, all at once, my body returned to me. I could feel the evening air, cool against my skin, but my mouth was numb, my tongue heavy. A sickening wave surged through me, and before I knew it, I lurched from the bed, staggering into the bathroom. My breath came in ragged gasps as I braced myself on the sink. My fingers dug into the marble, gripping it like I could crush it if I wanted. Every inch of me felt... different.
Something had changed.
Slowly, I raised my head to the mirror. My heart skipped a beat as I took in the reflection. My muscles, once lean, were now thick and defined, bulging under my skin. My posture was rigid, imposing. And my face—stubble had darkened into a full beard. The person staring back at me wasn't the man I knew. He was someone stronger, harder.
System alert... The user Alexei Volkov's advancement has been successful...
The voice in my head sounded clearer, more authoritative than before. The hum of the system grew louder, the presence of its power unmistakable.
I flexed my hand, watching as my knuckles tightened, the muscles rippling beneath my skin. The strength was surreal. I opened and closed my fist, testing it again. *Too strong.* Taking a step back, I couldn't help but marvel at the transformation. I had become a machine, built for strength, precision—something far beyond what I had ever been.
Beep...
The stats appeared, loading like they always did, but everything felt different. It wasn't just the numbers. It was the realization that nothing about me would ever be the same again.
[Health: 100/100]
[Heartbeat: Fast]
[Breathing: Normal]
[Blood Pressure: Normal]
Status..
I couldn't wait to see my new stats.
[User: Alexei Volkov]
[Profession: Bodyguard]
[Level: Intermidate]
[Nickname: None]
[Potential: Above Average]
[H.P: 100%]
[S.P: 100%]
[Strength: 500/1000]
[Agility: 750/1000]
[Endurance: 800/1000]
A smirk curls my face, things were looking good. Like literary good.
My heart is pounding fast and without wasting time I call out the next
Mental stat
Mental Stats
[P.P: 10000/50000]
[E.P: 20000/???]
[Perception: 10/10]
[Willpower: 10/10]
[Focus: 10/10]
[Tactical Foresight: 10]
What the hell.. I feel good.
Skill.
[Skill Tab].
[User: Alexei Volkov]
[300 Skill Points Available]
[Skill unlocked: Iron Vice 3/10]
[Bodyguard Spear Technique 4/10]
[Phantom strike 5/10]
[Language Translation:-Arabic]
[Intense Tolerance]
[Cool down skill]
[Iron flex 5/10]
[Skylock Grapple 5/10]
[High Stride Jump 5/10]
[Uppercut punch 5/10]
[Bone Crusher hold]
[Evasion Matery]
[Special Skills locked??]
ELL….
Hellow Lex… You look excited…
Of course the stats look better…
Before I could go next I hear the room door opening.
"Hey birdie…" a familiar voice cries and then they start banging the door.
"Right I almost forgot about them." I turn to head for the door.
beep..
System alert…
The user is about to go through one of the major events… doy you wish to save here?
Decline for now…
Declined..
I step out of the bathroom, the cool tile under my bare feet grounding me for a brief moment. The patient scrubs hang loosely on my body, the light blue fabric swishing slightly as I walk. They're soft, too soft, like they're meant to ease you into a false sense of comfort, but there's nothing comforting about what's happening. I glance down at my feet, the simple white Crocs squeaking against the floor with each step. It's almost comical, this disguise, like I'm playing dress-up in a role that's never fit me.
I can't really explain what is happening but am pretty damn bored for some reason. I spot them.
Gideon stands across the room, not too far away, leaning against the worn hospital bed. He's dressed the same—scrubs, fake bandage wrapped haphazardly around his ankle—but the smug grin on his face hasn't changed. His eyes narrow when he sees me, and I catch the familiar scent of tobacco hanging in the air, thick and pungent. That smell used to choke me. Now it just irritates me. Behind him, lounging against the doorframe, is Justin, his arms crossed over his chest, his ever-present scowl etched deep into his features. He looks the same, but angrier, if that's even possible.
"Finally decided to finish up in there?" Gideon's voice is mocking, the kind of tone that immediately puts you on edge. He pushes off the bed, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps. "We've got a long talk ahead, so I hope you're shit enough." His words drip with condescension, and I can feel the heat of his breath as he gets closer. Tobacco and something else… something sour.
Damn! Fucking pig. Those brown visible teeth
I glance at him, really look at him for the first time in a while, and it hits me—I'm taller than him now. Not by much, but enough. It's funny how time changes things without you noticing. A year ago, Gideon would've been looking down at me, but now? Now, I look him in the eye, and something in him shifts. I can see it. The realization that the tables aren't quite what they used to be.
Justin, still by the door, lets out an annoyed grunt. "This is the guy? Seriously?" He eyes me up and down with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. "He doesn't look like much anymore."
I don't respond. What's the point? I brush past Gideon without a word, heading straight for the door. Their eyes follow me, but I don't care. I can feel this strange calm settling over me, like I'm floating just above the chaos, watching it all from a distance. Whatever game they think they're playing, I'm done with it. I'm done with them.
"Let's just end this," I say, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. I've wasted enough time on their petty grudges.
Before I can reach the door, Justin's hand shoots out, wrapping around my neck in a rough grip. He pulls me back, his breath hot against my ear. "Fucking bastard," he snarls, his grip tightening, but it doesn't feel the way it used to. He's not as strong anymore, or maybe it's me. Maybe I'm stronger now.
Justin's always been the loose cannon, the one who could never control his temper. Back then, he was dangerous, unpredictable. He'd been kicked out for what he did—for what he tried to do to her. Assault, they called it, but it was worse than that. He was banned, exiled from the group, and the last I heard, he was spiraling. The same old rage, the same need for violence, but now it was eating him from the inside out.
And then there's Gideon. All bark, no bite. He talks big, acts tough, but he's weak where it counts. He didn't even make it through the qualifiers, knocked out before he could prove himself. I remember when people used to think he had potential, that he'd be the one to lead. Now? Now he's just another face in the crowd, too proud to admit but he flat damn weak. I bet Marcus has more potential than him. Just being tall is what he has going.
They lead me out the back door, just like before. The memories come flooding back, the familiar ache of old wounds stirring in my chest. There were five of them back then, too. Marc and Vincent had already been taken down by the time I showed up. Marc with a broken leg, Vincent too scared to fight back. I tried to hold my own, but I ended up with two fractured ribs for my trouble. After that night, things fucking changed. Marc dropped out, Vincent quit, the trauma haunted him, but not me. I held onto the rage, the need for revenge. I got it eventually, but that doesn't matter anymore. This time, things are different. I'm different.
"You're a real idiot, you know that?" Justin mutters, his grip still firm on my neck as we make our way through Block D5. The path is dimly lit, and the abandoned structure looms ahead like a silent, waiting beast. It's an old construction site, half-finished and forgotten, a perfect place for the kind of thing they have planned. Daimian probably paid off the guards again, just like he did before.
The air is cold, biting, and the sound of our footsteps echoes off the empty walls. The scent of wet concrete and dust fills the air, a sharp contrast to the calm of the night sky above. Stars twinkle overhead, but down here, it's all shadows and whispers.
We reach the ground floor, a vast open space that stretches out before us. The floor is rough, uneven, still damp from the recent work. The scent of fresh concrete clings to the air, mixing with the cool sea breeze that drifts in from the nearby coast. It's quiet here, too quiet, the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl. It's just like last time—same place, same time. Ten thirty on the dot.
Justin lets go of me, stepping back as he cracks his knuckles, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "You know what's coming, don't you? You fucking messed with the wrong group."
He smirks and they come down from the shadows. Daimian taking the lead.