Just as the vision sharpened, focusing on the face of the man who had plunged the knife into his heart, everything went black
The images shattered like glass, vanishing into the recesses of his mind.
Lysander gasped, clutching his chest as the connection was abruptly severed. He felt hollow, denied the most crucial piece of the puzzle.
"No!" he roared, his voice cracking with desperation. "Bring it back! I need to see his face! I need to know who did this!"
[Access Denied.]
The mechanical voice was cold and unyielding.
[Critical memories regarding the 'Event of Death' and the 'Primary Antagonist' are currently restricted]
"Restricted?" Lysander spat the word out like poison, his eyes blazing with fury. "Why I have a right to know who murdered me!"
[This information is tethered to a Locked Mission. Your current mental state and power level are insufficient to handle the burden of this truth. Revealing it now would destabilize your soul.]
[New Mission Log Updated]
[Locked Mission: Vengeance of the Fallen]
[Unlock Requirement: Reach Level 50 & Complete the 'Awakening' Quest]
Lysander gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. He felt like a puppet on a string.
"Fine," he hissed, suppressing his rage.
"You dangle the truth before me like a carrot. If I must become a monster to uncover my past, then so be it."
Lysander wiped the cold sweat from his brow, his gaze shifting from the glowing blue screen to the darkening forest around him. The shadows were lengthening, twisting into monstrous shapes as twilight descended upon the jungle.
"Death," he muttered, testing the weight of the word on his tongue. "If I fail to exercise, I die. If I stay here in the open, I get eaten."
He let out a dry, humorless laugh. "What a magnificent dilemma."
He knew he couldn't remain exposed. This body was frail—prey in a land of predators. He needed a sanctuary.
Gritting his teeth against the lingering phantom pain in his head, Lysander forced his weak legs to move.
He didn't run; he didn't have the stamina for that. Instead, he moved with calculated caution, his eyes scanning the dense foliage for a hollow tree, a crevice, or a cave—anything that could serve as a fortress for the night.
The jungle was alive. Somewhere in the distance, a beast roared, a sound so primal and terrifying that it made the very ground beneath his feet vibrate.
"First, survival," he whispered to himself, clenching his fists. "Then, power."
Lysander moved through the treacherous undergrowth with the caution of a thief. Every snapped twig sounded like a gunshot in his ears; every rustle of leaves sent a jolt of adrenaline through his frail veins. He knew he was no longer at the top of the food chain. Here, in this savage domain, he was nothing more than prey.
"I cannot train in the open," he whispered, his breath hitching as a guttural roar echoed in the distance, shaking the very ground beneath his boots
"One moment of weakness, and I will be devoured before I can even lift a finger."
His eyes, sharp with desperation, scanned the darkening terrain. He needed a sanctuary—a fortress where he could break his body without being broken by a beast.
After what felt like an eternity of wandering, fortune finally smiled upon him.
Ahead, at the base of a colossal tree whose roots twisted like ancient serpents, lay a narrow fissure. It was a small, natural hollow, obscured by a thick curtain of moss and hanging vines.
Lysander approached it slowly, picking up a stone and tossing it inside.
Clatter....
Silence....
No angry growl returned. The den was empty.
He slipped inside, the damp, earthy scent filling his lungs. It was cramped and cold, but to him, it felt like a palace. He quickly gathered fallen branches and dragged a heavy stone to partially block the entrance, leaving only a sliver of space for air.
Safe within his makeshift cocoon, Lysander slumped against the rough bark, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum. He looked at the glowing blue screen that hovered relentlessly in his vision.
[Time Remaining: 23 Hours 12 Minutes]
"Very well," he said, his voice hardening as he stripped off his tattered noble tunic, revealing a chest that was thin and pale.
"Let the torture begin."
He lowered himself onto the unforgiving, damp earth, placing his trembling palms against the gnarled roots. He took a deep breath and attempted to hoist his body weight for the first push-up.
But gravity felt like a crushing burden.
His arms, devoid of any real muscle, buckled instantly. He collapsed face-first into the dirt with a pathetic, wet thud. He lay there gasping, his limbs feeling like lead.
Ding!
The blue screen flickered into existence, hovering right above his nose, mocking him with its cold precision.
[Repetition: 0 / 100]
[System Warning: Muscular integrity is critically low. Host is displaying signs of extreme atrophy. Do not stop. The penalty for failure is absolute.]
Lysander spat out a mouthful of mud and grit, his eyes burning not with tears, but with a searing fury. He glared at the floating text.
"Shut up," he hissed through gritted teeth, forcing his screaming muscles to push against the ground once more.
"I know... I know I am weak. You don't have to remind me."
With a groan that sounded more like a growl, he strained every fiber of his being, his arms shaking violently like leaves in a storm, until finally—painfully—he completed one repetition.
[Repetition: 1 / 100]
"Ninety-nine to go," he choked out, sweat already stinging his eyes. "Just... ninety-nine... more."
The night dragged on, becoming a blur of repetitive torture.
After the agony of the push-ups, came the torment of the sit-ups. Lysander lay on his back, the rough stone biting into his spine. Every time he hoisted his torso up, his abdominal muscles spasmed violently, screaming in protest against the unfamiliar strain. It felt as though his insides were being torn apart, stitch by stitch.
"Seventy... two..." he gasped, his vision swimming.
But the nightmare was far from over. Next came the squats.
He stood on trembling legs that felt like jelly. Gravity seemed to have increased tenfold, pressing down on his shoulders with an oppressive weight. His thighs burned with a searing heat, and his knees buckled with every descent.
"Ninety-eight..."
He wheezed, sweat dripping from his chin like rain.
"Ninety-nine..."
He summoned the last dregs of his willpower, forcing his screaming quads to straighten one final time. It felt as though his bones might snap under the sheer exhaustion.
"One... Hundred!"
He collapsed. He didn't just lie down; he crashed onto the cavern floor like a puppet whose strings had been severed. Darkness threatened to claim him, but before he could lose consciousness, a celestial chime resonated through his skull.
[Ding!]
[DAILY QUEST: THE AWAKENING — COMPLETED]
[Time: 23 Hours 55 Minutes]
[Grade: S (Determination Detected]
[Rewards: Status Recovery (Full Heal)]
[Mystery Box (Common), +100 EXP]
Suddenly, a warm, golden light erupted from the void, enveloping his broken body in a soothing embrace. The excruciating pain in his muscles vanished instantly, replaced by a surge of vitality that felt like liquid fire coursing through his veins.
Lysander gasped, his eyes snapping open. He looked at his hands. The trembling had stopped. The skin, once pale and sickly, now held a faint, healthy glow. He felt lighter, stronger—as if the heavy chains of his weakness had been slightly loosened.
[Ding!]
[Congratulations! You have Leveled Up!]
[Current Level: 1 ➔ 2]
[All Attributes increased by +1]
[System Points: 3]
Lysander sat up, clenching his fist. The air crackled around his fingers. He wasn't a god yet, not even close. But for the first time in this miserable life... he was no longer trash.