A gentle morning breeze filtered in from the cracked window panes, brushing against sweat-drenched bodies. But inside MT Gym, the sound of clanking metal and whirring machines echoed louder than the wind. Sunlight slipped in through dusty glass windows, casting long streaks of gold across the worn-out mats and steel frames. The place felt like something out of an older era, raw, and real.
The gym stood at the very edge of Street No. 10, one of the few districts with almost no surveillance. Rent was dirt cheap here, for homes and businesses alike. Rumors said the gym owner had ties to a local gang and dabbled in shady dealings. Because of that, he couldn't afford to or didn't dare to, install government-mandated surveillance systems. The only cameras were old analog ones, rusting at the front entrance, barely functional. Just for show.
They also said most of the trainers here were gang members. Yet, the gym still had excellent equipment and surprisingly solid training facilities.
In this Soulforger-dominated world, the majority of people were still ordinary. But even then, the culture had grown fitness-obsessed. A widespread rumor had taken root among the common folk: train your body from a young age, and you might awaken or strengthen your soul fragment.
The Soulforger Association never confirmed it. Nor did they deny it. And so, the superstition persisted. After all, it made the general population more disciplined, more fit. In a way, it worked in their favor.
"Hey! Long time, bro. Why haven't you been around the gym?" asked a guy in red gym clothes, his spiky yellow hair almost glowing under the light.
"Haaah~ Boss gave me some tough assignment," the green-haired man replied, stretching and yawning. "Had to travel to another district."
"Anything new happen while I was gone?" Green Hair asked, casually scanning the gym.
"Nothing much, bro," Yellow Hair shrugged.
But Green Hair's eyes froze as he caught sight of something.
Near the weight racks stood a man in a dark hoodie, black hair barely visible beneath the fabric. He was lifting, no, repping, weights that looked almost double his body weight. And he wasn't struggling. Every rep was fluid, sharp, and explosive. His tempo never wavered.
Green Hair's jaw dropped. "What the hell?! You call that nothing? Who lifts that much with ease?!"
"Huh? Oh, that guy?" Yellow Hair turned casually. "he's a freak of nature. He's been coming here for the past two days. Shows up in the morning, leaves at night. No one messes with him. Honestly, he might be a Soulforger."
Green Hair stared hard. The guy's form was flawless. Body moved like precision gears. He was pressing 100 kg like it was a warm-up set.
Then, without breaking rhythm, the hooded man stopped, added two more 2 kg plates to each side—and continued his training like nothing had changed.
"…!?" Green Hair blinked. "Is he even human?!"
"Told you—he's a monster," Yellow Hair muttered, eyes narrowed. "On day one, he started light—pushups, pullups, running. But when he got to weights… it was like watching something evolve. Every thirty minutes, he adds more weight. He's not just training, he's growing. And it's only been two days!"
Green Hair exhaled slowly, eyes fixed. "Who the hell is this guy…? Did anyone tell the boss?"
"Yeah. Boss said to just keep an eye on him. Nothing else."
The guy they were talking about?
Of course, it was Rex.
He couldn't dye his hair anymore, it kept turning white due to the healing factor from his system. So, to conceal his identity, he'd bought a synthetic black wig. But right now, that choice was bothering him more than anything else.
"Tch… So damn itchy," Rex mumbled, resisting the urge to scratch through the sweaty mess stuck to his scalp. The wig was already drenched, clinging uncomfortably.
He exhaled deeply, flexing his forearms. "Huh~ Looks like they've adapted. Strengthened again…"
Thanks to his hoodie, no one could see the full extent of his transformation. Underneath the fabric was a frame with near-zero body fat—lean muscle packed like a coiled spring. If he took off the hoodie, people might even accuse him of using steroids.
He'd managed to evade the cops by disappearing into outer Streets, more specifically, Street 10, a place where gangs ruled and rogue Soulforgers backed the streets. No one here cared who you were, as long as you didn't cause trouble.
He had also bought a new, heavily encrypted smartwatch—untraceable, unlinked to any old ID. It came with a biometric firewall and self-wiping features—standard for black market tech. But this was just the beginning.
The real plan?
Get a new identity from BigMouse.
Join a small, independent guild.
And leave the planet—travel offworld to complete his most important quest.
Rex wiped the sweat from his brow and completed another brutal set with 110 kg. He paused, then glanced at the System screen.
[Useless System]
[Status]
[Race : Human]
[HP : 1/1]
[Strength : 1]
[Agility : 1]
[Skills(1)]
[Quests(4)]
[Notification]
"…I'm at least three times stronger than before," Rex muttered. "So why the hell hasn't my status changed?"
His eyes narrowed at the screen.