Chapter Forty-Three
By the time Jason got home, the evening sky had already deepened into a quiet wash of indigo. The city lights blinked faintly through the windows, washing his small compound in pale, tired gold. He closed the gate behind him with a soft clink and walked toward the door, his boots barely making a sound against the tiled floor.
Inside, the living room was spotless. The tablecloth had been straightened, the dishes cleared, and even the curtains were drawn neatly against the wind. It didn't take him long to realize who had done it. Sophie's touch was everywhere — the cushions aligned too precisely, the faint scent of her lavender cleaner still lingering in the air.
Jason stood there for a moment, quietly taking it in. "She's learning," he muttered under his breath, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
He dropped his jacket over the back of the chair and glanced around again. Everything was too calm — too still. Normally, there'd be the sound of Sophie humming or watching her dramas with the volume far too loud. But tonight, there was nothing but silence and the soft ticking of the clock.
Jason moved quietly down the hall, his hand brushing against the wall as he passed. When he reached Sophie's room, he pushed the door open just enough to peek in.
She was there, curled up under her blanket, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed, her breathing slow and steady. The small lamp beside her desk cast a gentle glow over her hair, scattered with stray pencil shavings and a half-finished sketch on the table.
Jason leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a while — the way her chest rose and fell, the faint smile she sometimes wore even in sleep. She'd been trying hard lately: cooking, cleaning, even helping him pack tools when she could. It was her way of saying she believed in him.
He whispered softly, "You did well, Soph."
She stirred a little, but didn't wake. Jason smiled faintly and stepped back, pulling the door to a quiet close.
He went to his own room, sat on the edge of the bed, and exhaled deeply. The night was calm — unusually so. But he could feel it coming: the faint hum in the air that always preceded the system's call.
He leaned back, eyes closed for a moment, and just like that, the familiar digital tone echoed softly in his head.
> [SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Training Routine: Day 5 — Activated.
Jason opened his eyes. The air around him shimmered faintly with holographic blue light, symbols and data flickering to life before him.
> Status:
Body Condition: 84% recovery.
Muscle fatigue: Minor.
Stamina: Stable.
Emotional state: Balanced.
New variable detected — motivation increase due to positive relationship bond (Elena).
Jason read through the details, his expression thoughtful. He never truly understood how the system measured these things — how it could read his feelings so precisely — but over time, he'd stopped questioning it.
> Objective:
Maintain physical endurance under strain.
Increase mental focus duration.
Synchronize reflex mode with combat simulation.
Jason cracked his neck lightly and stood up. "Alright," he murmured. "Let's get this done."
The system responded immediately.
> [Environment: Set – Private Training Chamber Projection]
A low hum filled the room, and within seconds, the plain walls dissolved into a dimly lit space — an open simulation ground surrounded by faint glowing grids. The air felt heavier here, real and artificial at the same time.
Jason stretched his arms slowly, his muscles still aching from the previous night's routine. But pain was part of progress.
> [Task 1: Endurance.]
Without another sound, the floor shifted beneath his feet. The simulated gravity increased, pressing down on his body until every movement felt twice as hard. He took a deep breath and began his run — slow at first, then faster, until sweat began to form along his forehead.
Every few seconds, the system pulsed in his head.
> "Maintain heart rate below 145."
"Adjust breathing rhythm."
Jason obeyed without thinking. His focus narrowed. The outside world fell away.
Minutes passed. The simulation increased difficulty — terrains changing beneath his feet, projections of attackers appearing in flashes, forcing him to dodge, pivot, roll. It wasn't real, but his body didn't know that. Every hit, every strain, every breath — it all felt tangible.
By the time the first phase ended, Jason was drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling hard.
> [Endurance Level: Improved by 0.8%]
[Proceed to Phase 2: Reflex Training]
He steadied himself, wiped his brow, and raised his stance.
"Let's do it."
The lights shifted. Red orbs shot toward him from random directions — fast, unpredictable. Jason's hands moved instinctively, catching one, dodging another, twisting his torso to avoid the next. Each movement was sharper, more precise than the last.
> "Good reflex speed detected."
"Continue."
The air pulsed with heat. His arms burned. His muscles screamed. But his eyes stayed locked forward, unblinking.
> "Training complete."
"Processing results…"
The simulated world faded, the walls of his real room sliding back into place as the soft holographic light dimmed.
Jason sat down heavily, breathing out a long, tired sigh. His whole body trembled, but beneath the exhaustion, he could feel something different — a quiet strength building, one session at a time.
The system pulsed again.
> [Summary: Day 5 Training Completed.]
Physical improvement: +1.2%
Focus retention: +0.9%
Spirit synchronization: Stable.
[Recommendation: Rest. Emotional stability factor currently optimal.]
Jason gave a half-smile. "You make it sound easy."
> [Response: You are progressing as projected, Jason.]
He laid back, eyes on the ceiling, chest still rising with slow breaths. "Good. Because we're just getting started."
The system light faded entirely then, leaving him in silence once more — the hum of night filling the house.
From the next room, Sophie's soft breathing was still the only sound. Jason turned his head toward her door and smiled faintly again.
"Sleep well, Soph. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day."
He closed his eyes, letting the calm take him, body sore but spirit strong — the quiet fire inside him burning brighter with each passing night.