NOVEL NEXT Chapter 25 - Understanding Baseline
Sleep had barely taken hold when Nick's system chimed with an unfamiliar alert, jolting him from shallow dreams.
[PRIORITY NOTIFICATION: Assessment protocol begins at 0500 hours]
[LOCATION: Training Complex, Sublevel 2]
[PREPARATION: Minimal sustenance recommended]
Nick squinted at the glowing display: 4:15 AM. Less than four hours of sleep after last night's revelations about his family legacy. Perfect.
He rolled out of bed, his leg muscles protesting. Something told him today would make yesterday's tour of Bogotá feel like a vacation. As he splashed cold water on his face, the weight of everything crashed over him—his parents' connections to Aurilia, the bloodline legacy, his grandparents' expectations, Maggie and Jordan.
All of them pinning their hopes on abilities he wasn't sure he could control.
Nick studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The shaved head still surprised him—made him look harder, older. Was that Nicholas Valiente staring back, or Arlize Dentragon using his face as a mask? The question haunted him more with each passing day.
"Fun thoughts for 4 AM," he muttered, turning away from the mirror.
The compound was eerily quiet as he made his way to the communal kitchen area, the predawn darkness hanging heavy outside the windows. The rainforest sounds—usually a cacophony of insects, birds, and distant monkey calls—seemed muted, as if the jungle itself was holding its breath in anticipation.
In the kitchen area, Jordan was already awake, methodically consuming a protein bar and what looked like his third cup of black coffee. No surprise there—the man's discipline was something to behold. It made Nick wonder how Jordan had ever pulled off the lackadaisical college persona. Jordan wore a simple gray t-shirt and fitted training pants, his posture perfect even at this ungodly hour.
"Morning," Nick mumbled, reaching for the coffee pot.
Jordan gave a curt nod. "Sleep well?"
"About as well as you'd expect after everything that was said yesterday."
A hint of a smile touched Jordan's lips. "You're not alone."
Nick poured himself coffee, black and bitter enough to scour paint.
Jordan's expression turned serious. "Today's assessment is going to be brutal."
"Great. Looking forward to it," Nick replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.
"You should eat something," Jordan advised, sliding a protein bar across the counter. "No telling when the next meal is going to come."
Nick took the bar reluctantly. His stomach was too knotted for food, but Jordan's tone suggested this wasn't optional advice.
Maggie lurched into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, her hair a riot of tangled curls, dark circles under her eyes. "I'm going to murder whoever decided on a 5 AM start time," she growled, making grabby hands at the coffee pot.
"Pretty sure that would be my grandfather," Nick said, sliding a mug toward her.
"I'll reconsider after caffeine." She took a long drink, then grimaced. "God, that's awful. I'd kill for a proper latte."
"Focus on staying alive through whatever they have planned first," Jordan suggested. "Coffee preferences can wait."
Maggie glared at him over her mug. "Easy for you to say, Mr. Up-Before-Dawn-Doing-Push-Ups. Some of us need sleep and decent caffeine to function."
"You've got—" Nick checked his watch, "—eighteen minutes to become functional."
At exactly 5 AM, a hidden door they hadn't noticed slid open with a soft hiss. A man entered without a word—tall, broad, filling the doorway completely. His matte-black uniform, stitched with silver thread, seemed to absorb the room's light. A sidearm rested at his hip, but it was the way he moved that unsettled them—too smooth, too precise, like violence coiled just beneath the surface. A faint hum of mana shimmered along the insignia at his chest, and his mirrored, unreadable visor reflected the room back at them with clinical detachment.
"If you would follow me, please."
Without another word, he turned and walked out the door.
Nick and Jordan fell in step behind him, while Maggie quickly dropped her coffee mug in the sink and hurried after them.
As they made their way to the training complex, Nick noticed subtle changes throughout the compound. Security personnel stood more visibly positioned at key junctions and rooftops. The air practically hummed with mana deliberately channeled through the architecture itself—protective enchantments layered into the very foundation. Whatever was coming, the entire facility was preparing for it.
"Anyone else getting mild 'sacrificial lambs to the slaughter' vibes?" Maggie whispered as they approached a heavily reinforced door marked with arcane symbols.
"Just mild?" Nick replied.
The door slid open as the guard approached, revealing a stark white chamber with walls flickering with almost imperceptible energy patterns. Marcus awaited them inside. Gone was the charming corporate executive. This Marcus stood ramrod straight in combat fatigues, his usually friendly eyes now cold and assessing.
"Thank you Tomas," he said, nodding to the guard who saluted and walked out.
"Before we begin," Marcus said, "let me be clear about what today is. This isn't training—it is an assessment. I need to know what you are capable of without assistance and without shortcuts." His gaze fixed on Nick. "And without relying on abilities that aren't truly yours."
Nick felt a chill. "What do you mean?"
Instead of answering, Marcus looked upward. "Arcadian System," he called, his voice resonating with command. "Limit subject access to inherited functions. No overlays. No passive enhancements. No fallback resonance."
The effect hit Nick immediately. He felt something snap shut in his mind, a door slamming on abilities he'd begun to take for granted. His enhanced perception dimmed, the constant flow of mana-awareness receding to a whisper.
[Interface Notification: Access to non-integrated legacy abilities temporarily restricted.]
Nick stumbled, catching himself against the wall as his balance wavered. It felt like someone had stuffed cotton in his ears and smeared Vaseline over his eyes—the world suddenly duller, flatter, slower.
"What the hell?" he gasped.
"Today," Marcus said, unmoved by his distress, "I want to see you, Nicholas. Not Arlize. Not the system." He gestured to Jordan and Maggie. "All three of you will face the same trials. Your baseline capabilities matter more than you realize."
Francisco entered silently, taking position at the back of the room with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He wore traditional training garb—loose black pants and a fitted jacket resembling a modernized gi. The subtle mana currents around him remained perfectly controlled, without a single flicker of wasted energy.
"Four trials," Marcus continued. "Mental, physical, spiritual, and emotional. You will be evaluated separately and as a unit. You will likely fail most of these challenges—that's the point. We need to know your limits to break them."
Nick exchanged glances with Jordan and Maggie. Jordan's jaw was set in determination, while Maggie's earlier caffeine-deprived irritation had transformed into focused intensity.
"First trial begins in five minutes," Marcus said. "I suggest you prepare yourselves."
The mental trial took place in what looked like a modified conference room. When they entered, the lights dimmed and holographic projectors hummed to life, filling the space with a three-dimensional tactical display: a battlefield rendered in glowing blue lines.
"This simulation recreates the Battle of Herras Delta," Marcus explained, "a conflict from Aurilia's mid-period. A force of ten thousand faced an army three times its size and achieved victory through superior tactics." He looked pointedly at Nick. "Arlize would know this battle intimately. But Nicholas wouldn't."
The simulation launched without warning. Nick found himself thrust into the commander position, forced to make split-second decisions about troop movements, resource allocation, and terrain advantages—all while the holographic enemy advanced with terrifying efficiency.
Without the system's analytical overlay and Arlize's battle memories flowing into his consciousness, Nick felt utterly blind. He made clumsy, predictable choices. His formations were too rigid, his responses to enemy movements too delayed. Within minutes, his holographic forces were surrounded and decimated, tiny blue figures blinking out of existence as the red tide overwhelmed them.
"Again," Marcus said. "Different scenario."
The second simulation proved even worse—a complex infiltration mission with multiple variables and time-sensitive objectives. Nick struggled to track all the elements, his unenhanced mind racing but failing to process the information fast enough. His strike team was captured almost immediately.
Meanwhile, Jordan methodically worked through his own tactical scenario, his military training evident in his calm assessment and decisive commands. He wasn't brilliant, but he was competent—and more importantly, he was relying on skills he'd actually earned. His approach was conservative, prioritizing mission survival over objective completion—a trademark of special forces training.
But the true surprise was Maggie. Given a technological sabotage scenario, she utterly dominated, her fingers dancing across the holographic interfaces, her deep understanding of system vulnerabilities allowing her to outpace the simulation's difficulty scaling. What began as a simple network infiltration evolved into a multi-layered defense system that adapted to her techniques in real-time—yet she stayed ahead, her expression transforming from intense concentration to pure exhilaration as she outwitted each new security measure.
"Impressive, Ms. Zhang," Francisco remarked from his observation position. "Your natural affinity for systems extends beyond the digital realm."
Nick was facing his fifth defeat when Marcus stepped closer.
"Arlize was a tactician," he said quietly. "Are you?"
The question stung worse than the defeat. Nick stared at the reset battlefield, trying desperately to think like himself—not the legendary mage and realm knight whose memories intermittently flooded his consciousness.
What would Nicholas Valiente—business major, son of brilliant researchers, someone who'd navigated university politics and survived corporate espionage—do with this scenario?
He studied the map with fresh eyes. Instead of trying to win through conventional tactics, he began identifying economic pressure points, supply chain vulnerabilities, and psychological leverage. The battlefield wasn't just about military might but about resources, morale, and information flow.
He restructured his forces into smaller, more adaptable units. He targeted supply lines rather than enemy strongholds. He created diversions to mask his true objectives. He still lost—but this time, he lasted three times longer and inflicted significant damage before falling.
Marcus nodded slightly. "Better."
Francisco, who had watched silently from the corner, made a note on his tablet. The subtle approval in his grandfather's posture felt more satisfying than Nick expected.
"Mental trial has concluded," Marcus announced. "Results recorded. Water and protein supplements are available. You have fifteen minutes before the physical assessment begins."
As they rehydrated, Maggie leaned against the wall next to Nick. "So they basically lobotomized you, huh? System shutdown?"
"Not completely," Nick replied, wiping his mouth. "I can still access basic interfaces, but all the passive enhancements, the memory feeds, the analytical overlays—gone."
"How's it feel to be merely mortal again?"
Nick considered the question seriously. "Limiting. But...clarifying, in a way."
Maggie nodded. "Good."
"How'd you crack their system so fast?" Nick asked, genuinely curious.
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A mischievous smile crossed her face. "I set up a minimum viable network in my room and ran pattern analysis on the compound's security protocols. Just, you know, out of professional curiosity."
"You hacked Eidolon's systems?"
"'Hacked' is such an ugly word. I...familiarized myself with their architecture."
Before Nick could respond, Marcus called them back to attention.
"Physical trial begins now. Follow me."
The physical trial nearly broke them.
What Marcus called an "outdoor combat course" was actually a hellish gauntlet carved into the rainforest surrounding the compound—obstacles demanding strength, speed, and precision while navigating hidden glyph traps and mana-influenced terrain that constantly shifted underfoot.
The jungle humidity hit like a wet blanket, instantly soaking their clothes with sweat. Birds scattered at their approach, their calls sounding suspiciously like laughter.
Without Arlize's reflexes or the system's threat detection, Nick felt painfully human. His weeks of physical training helped, but crumbled against a course designed to test enhanced individuals.
The first obstacle seemed simple—a series of platforms rising from a muddy pit. As Nick leapt to the first platform, it tilted sharply, nearly sending him face-first into the mud. He barely caught himself, muscles straining as he compensated for the unexpected movement.
"The platforms are mana-reactive," Francisco called from his observation position. "They respond to your energy signature and level of control. Stability comes from within."
Nick gritted his teeth, focusing on his center of gravity as he attempted the next jump. This time he landed more cleanly, but the third platform vanished entirely as he leapt toward it, reappearing three feet to the left. He crashed into the mud, sputtering and cursing.
Jordan fared better initially, his previous conditioning and natural balance carrying him through the first third of the course before reaching a section where gravity itself seemed to warp. What should have been a straightforward climb up a cargo net became an exercise in fighting physics—weight doubling, then halving, then pulling sideways instead of down. The disorientation sent him crashing to the ground, winded and cursing.
"Not bad, Keyes," Marcus acknowledged. "Second-best time so far."
Maggie barely made it past the starting area. She was brilliant with technology, but physical trials were clearly her weakness. After her third attempt ended with her face-down in the mud, she stayed there for a long moment before pushing herself up, her expression a mix of frustration and determination.
"This is rigged," she muttered, pulling herself out of the mud pit. "I'm a programmer, not a parkour artist."
"The enemy won't care about your job description," Francisco replied, not unkindly. "Survival requires adaptation beyond your comfort zone."
"Your turn again, Nicolás," he called as Maggie stalked back to the starting area. "Remember, this isn't about winning. It's about finding your limits."
Nick approached the starting line, muscles already aching from his previous attempts. His system remained dim, offering no assistance, no enhancement to his purely human capabilities. Mud caked his clothes, and a cut above his eye dripped blood that he wiped away impatiently.
This time, he took a different approach. Instead of trying to power through the obstacles, he observed the pattern in the mana fluctuations. Even without enhancement, he could still faintly sense the energy shifts if he concentrated hard enough—and more importantly, he could anticipate them based on environmental cues: the way the air trembled before a gravity shift, the subtle color change in the glyphs before activation.
He made it further than his previous attempts, picking his way carefully through the gauntlet, treating it less like a race and more like a puzzle to be solved. The strategy worked—until a spinning log caught him across the chest, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him tumbling down an embankment into a shallow stream.
"Enough!" Marcus called as Nick lay gasping, struggling to pull water-logged air into his burning lungs. "Physical trial concluded."
As Nick struggled to his feet, ribs throbbing with what felt like a serious bruise forming, Francisco approached Marcus. Both men watched as Nick tried and failed to steady himself.
"He needs to remember what pain feels like in this body," Francisco said quietly to Marcus.
Nick, whose hearing remained acute despite his condition, pretended not to hear him, yet the words echoed in his mind as they returned to the compound, battered and filthy. The pain was clarifying—a reminder that whatever Arlize had been, Nicholas Valiente was not. At least not yet.
They were given thirty minutes to shower, change, and grab a quick bite to eat. It was late afternoon and everyone was hungry. Nick examined the darkening bruises spreading across his ribcage.
Good, nothing's broken, he thought. But it hurts to breathe, he added grimly.
After a light lunch of empanadas and limonada, the spiritual test began.
They followed Marcus down a narrow staircase, descending far beneath the compound into what felt like the mountain's very heart. The air grew cooler, charged with a mana density that made Nick's skin tingle even through the system lockdown. This deep, the energy wasn't just ambient—it was primal, seeping from the very stone surrounding them.
The chamber they entered looked ancient—rough-hewn walls inlaid with crystals that pulsed with soft, multicolored light. At the center, three stone platforms formed a triangle, each carved with symbols Nick recognized from Arlize's memories: manifestation glyphs, used in awakening ceremonies millennia ago.
"These chambers predate our occupation of this site," Marcus explained, his voice dropping to near-reverence. "We believe they were constructed during the last dimensional convergence, perhaps six million years ago."
"By who?" Maggie asked, running her fingers along one of the crystal veins in the wall.
"By those who understood what was coming," Francisco answered cryptically. "Now, sit. Cross-legged. Back straight. One to each platform."
When they were positioned, Francisco stepped into the center of their triangle, his voice echoing strangely in the crystal chamber. "The foundation of all mana manipulation is connection to your core—the wellspring within that resonates with the world's energy. Without this connection, all techniques are merely borrowed power, destined to fail when needed the most."
He circled them slowly, his footsteps precise, each one landing on specific points in the floor. "Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Follow the path inward."
Nick closed his eyes, trying to center himself despite his aching muscles and lingering frustration from earlier failures. Even without the system's guidance, he fell into meditation easily. Drawing on the teachings of his parents and Arlize, he breathed in for four counts, held the breath for seven counts, then exhaled for eight counts.
"Listen to my voice," Francisco continued. "Imagine a door within yourself. The door leads to a room you've never entered—a space belonging only to you. Find this door. Open it."
Nick tried to visualize as instructed, but the metaphorical door kept shifting—sometimes appearing as an ornate Aurilian portal with Arlize's crest, other times as the mundane door to his childhood bedroom. Neither felt right.
"Breathe through the struggle," Francisco said, as if sensing his frustration. "The path is never easy. Search for the spark within—the pattern that is uniquely yours. Not Arlize's. Yours."
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Nick's legs cramped, his back ached, but he pushed through the discomfort, maintaining the breathing technique and following Francisco's voice.
Beside him, Jordan's breathing had slowed, deepened. A faint golden glow emanated from his platform, visible even through Nick's closed eyelids—Jordan's mana core beginning to awaken on its own, untrained yet powerful.
"Good, Mr. Keyes," Francisco murmured. "Hold that connection. Feel its nature."
Maggie made a small sound of surprise. Nick risked opening one eye to see intricate patterns of green energy swirling around her—not the smooth flow of traditional mana, but something that resembled circuitry, digital and programmatic. Her fingers twitched unconsciously, as if typing on invisible keyboards while her unique core manifested.
"Fascinating," Francisco remarked. "A techno-mantic affinity like you said, Marcus. Extremely rare."
Nick returned to his own meditation, frustration mounting as the others found their paths while he remained lost. He reached for his core and found—conflict. Two energy signatures wrestled for dominance: the ancient, refined blue-white of Arlize's power, and something else—wilder, less disciplined, but undeniably his.
"You are fighting yourself, Nicolás," Francisco said softly, now standing directly behind him, his hand on Nick's back. "The question is not which power to choose, but why you seek power at all."
What does Nicholas Valiente want? The question formed unbidden in his mind.
Not power for its own sake. Not the legacy of another life. Not even revenge, though that still burned within him, especially against Alexandra and what she did to his parents.
The answer came with surprising clarity: to survive. He wanted Earth to endure, to escape the fate Aurilia couldn't.
The vision of The Council echoed in his mind. He wanted to protect this world, and he wanted it to thrive. He wanted the eight billion people who called Earth home to be welcomed into the wider multiverse—not consumed by it.
As the realization solidified, something shifted within Nick's meditation. The competing energy signatures stopped fighting each other. Not a fusion, but a harmony, like two instruments playing in different octaves. The blue-white of Arlize's power flowed alongside the violet-tinged hue of his own energy, neither dominating the other.
The crystal chamber pulsed in response, the stones around them resonating with a frequency that matched the awakening spark within Nick's chest—not Arlize's power, but his own. Smaller and untested, but undeniably his.
A faint aura of violet-blue light emanated from Nick's platform, distinct from both Arlize's signature and his friends' manifestations—something entirely new.
Francisco nodded, satisfaction briefly crossing his face. "You have found your beginning. That is enough for today."
As they rose, legs stiff from the prolonged sitting position, Nick caught a glimpse of Marcus consulting a handheld device, his eyebrows raised in apparent surprise.
"Problem?" Francisco asked.
"Not at all," Marcus replied. "The harmonic readings are... unexpected. Especially from Ms. Zhang."
Maggie looked up sharply. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Francisco answered, "that our assumptions about mana affinity may need revision. Your core signature doesn't align with any traditional classification."
"Is that bad?"
"No," Francisco said with a hint of a smile. "It's revolutionary. Now, prepare yourselves. One trial still remains."
The final trial—emotional—proved the most brutal.
Three separate chambers, three virtual reality headsets. As Nick settled the lightweight device over his eyes, Marcus' voice came through small speakers near his ears.
"Each of you will speak your deepest fears aloud. Those fears will be actualized within this simulation. This exercise won't teach you to conquer your fears, but to deny their power over you."
Nick swallowed hard, the darkness of the VR system surrounding him like a void.
What was his deepest fear? Failure? Death? The loss of his identity to Arlize's consciousness?
No. Something deeper. Failure.
"I fear that I'll fail again," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "That Alexandra will win. That billions will die when the veil shatters because I wasn't strong enough, smart enough, or willing to sacrifice enough."
The darkness swirled, coalescing into horrifically detailed images—Earth cracking like an egg, the veil tearing open to reveal writhing cosmic horrors beyond. Cities crumbling. People screaming as their minds shattered under realities they were never meant to comprehend.
And at the center of it all stood Alexandra Callahan, watching with clinical detachment just as she had when Nick's parents died. When Nick himself had died in that other timeline.
"You were never going to be enough," the simulation-Alexandra said, her voice perfect in its cold precision. "The son of brilliant people who himself possessed only mediocre talent. Even with Arlize's power, you're merely a placeholder—a temporary vessel for something greater than yourself."
Nick's heart hammered against his ribs, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. The simulation felt impossibly real—not just visually, but energetically, as if the mana in the chamber was physically manifesting his deepest fears.
"You're just buying time," Alexandra continued as the world around them disintegrated. "Delaying the inevitable. Your family's legacy ends with you—a failed experiment, a dead end."
Nick felt something break inside him—not his resolve, but the dam holding back his rage. He lunged at the simulation-Alexandra, desperate to silence her cutting words even knowing she wasn't real.
His hand passed through her form, which dissipated into mist before reforming. The landscape shifted, showing his parents' funeral—Francisco and Maria standing stoically beside a younger Nick who refused to meet their eyes.
"You turned away from your heritage once," Alexandra's voice sliced through the memory. "Why would you be worthy of it now?"
The images kept coming, relentless in their precision—every doubt, every failure, every moment of weakness Nick had ever experienced, magnified and thrown back at him. His parents' disappointed expressions when he chose basketball over academics. His grandfather's resignation when he announced he was attending Westlake. Shadows of Arlize's memories—a civilization collapsing because of hesitation, because of mistakes that could have been prevented with earlier, decisive action.
"Even Arlize failed in the end," Alexandra's voice whispered. "What chance do you have, fractured as you are?"
By the time the simulation ended, Nick was on his knees, chest heaving with suppressed emotion. He tore the VR headset off, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the chamber.
Jordan and Maggie emerged from their own trials looking equally shaken. Jordan's normally stoic expression had cracked, raw grief visible in the tension around his eyes. Maggie's face was tear-streaked, her hands trembling as she set down her headset.
None of them spoke. There was nothing to say—each had faced their own personal hell, and words seemed inadequate in the aftermath.
"Assessment complete," Marcus said, his voice gentler than it had been all day. "Return to your quarters and rest. You've earned it."
As they made their slow, exhausted way back through the compound, Nick felt his system gradually reactivating, interfaces flickering back to life one by one. A new message appeared:
[Assessment complete. Congratulations on unlocking the next phase.]
[TIER I PROGRESSION ACHIEVED]
[New capabilities available: Access pending trainer authorization]
Nick was too tired to feel anything but numb relief. They had survived—barely—and apparently passed whatever arbitrary standards their assessors had set.
"Tomorrow," Francisco said as they reached the residential wing, "you'll meet your trainers who will prepare you over the next two weeks before you're enrolled into the Arcadian Initiative Academy."
"Arcadian Initiative Academy?" Maggie's voice was hoarse. "What is that?"
Francisco turned toward her and pointed toward the mountains.
"It's a four-year institution built just beyond that range," he said. "Hidden on the far side, shielded from detection, reinforced by ancient Arcadian architecture, and powered by one of the strongest leyline nexuses on the continent."
Looking at each of them in turn, he continued, "It was created to train the next generation of Veilwalkers—those who can survive beyond the fractures, wield mana with precision, and anchor Earth's stability when the breaches come."
Maggie frowned. "So... it's a university. For dimensional warfare?"
Francisco's expression remained unchanged. "It's more than that. It's a proving ground. You'll study mana theory, system dynamics, field combat, metaphysical ethics, and multiversal history. But more importantly—you'll be trained to protect Earth. Every single day."
He turned back to the hallway. "The Initiative doesn't want soldiers. It trains stabilizers. Architects. Survivors. People who can protect Earth when the Veil breaks."
Maggie blinked. "Is this where you wanted Nick to go originally?"
Francisco nodded. "That had been the plan we and his parents came up with."
Wait, this is moving too fast, Nick thought, noticing Jordan and Maggie's startled expressions mirroring his own confusion.
"So we're just supposed to attend this school in the middle of nowhere because it'll teach us about mana?" Maggie asked sharply. "But what about parents and families? You expect us to just disappear for four years without saying anything to them?"
Maggie's voice tightened. "I can't do that to my parents again. Not after what they went through with my brother."
"That's been handled," Marcus said, pulling his tablet up and showing them the emails he'd been sending. "I'll finalize your documentation. Your records will be updated as specialized trainees accepted into an international science and defense program. We've also contacted your families about this special educational opportunity." He lowered the tablet. "Expect them to want to talk to you in the next 24 to 48 hours or so."
With that, he and Francisco left them at their doors and walked away.
Nick watched them disappear as Maggie and Jordan stood in contemplative silence beside him. Then, too exhausted to talk more about the bomb that had just been dropped, they all nodded to each other and headed for their rooms.
"Today was a hell of a day," Jordan murmured, his hand lingering on his doorknob. "Get some rest, both of you."
Maggie nodded, her usual snark subdued. "See you tomorrow. Assuming I can move."
Nick barely made it to his shower, standing under the hot water until his muscles stopped screaming. The bruise across his ribs had darkened to an ugly purple, a physical reminder of the day's brutal lessons. He didn't bother with dinner, despite the tray of food someone had left just inside his door.
When he finally collapsed into bed, he expected to fall immediately into dreamless sleep.
Instead, the system interface flickered one last time:
[Secondary integration protocol initiated]
[Tier I bleed-through authorized]
[Accessing memory cache: Combat Fundamentals - Full Inventory]