The day didn't end with the bell.
For Rudra, it never would again.
By the time he reached home, his legs carried the dull ache of use, and his arms felt heavier than they had in the morning. School had taken its share. The ground had taken more.
Still, when the evening light softened and the apartment settled into its familiar quiet, Rudra cleared a small space in the hall.
No mat.
No timer.
No audience.
Just the floor.
"Ten," he said softly.
He dropped into position.
The first push-up was easy. The second followed without protest. By the fifth, his arms trembled, elbows wobbling as the child's body resisted the man's expectation.
By seven, his breathing grew uneven.
By nine, his shoulders burned like fire.
The tenth felt impossible.
His arms shook violently, face inches from the floor, breath caught halfway between inhale and failure.
This body is not disobedient, he realized. It is honest.
He pushed.
And collapsed flat on the floor.
Chest heaving, forehead pressed against cool tile, Rudra laughed quietly at himself.
"War," he muttered.
A battle fought entirely within ten inches of movement.
Somewhere, truth adjusted itself.
Strength
Lv 02 (18 / 100 EXP) → (24 / 100 EXP)
He lay there for a moment, arms spread, sweat cooling on his skin.
Six points.
Not impressive.
But undeniable.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
Effort, he thought, is sweet.
Because effort could be chosen.
He pushed himself up to sit.
Not done yet.
He waited until his breathing settled, then tried again—this time stopping at five, refusing to let form break.
Strength
Lv 02 (24 / 100 EXP) → (27 / 100 EXP)
Stamina
Lv 03 (45 / 100 EXP) → (47 / 100 EXP)
He wiped his face with the hem of his shirt.
Sweeter.
Because the numbers didn't care about pride—only honesty.
His mother peeked out from the bedroom. "Why are you lying on the floor?"
"Exercise," he replied, sitting up straight.
She frowned. "You'll hurt yourself."
"I stopped," he said simply.
That was restraint.
Emotional Control
Lv 05 (68 / 100 EXP) → (70 / 100 EXP)
She nodded reluctantly and disappeared back into the room.
Rudra stood slowly, arms still trembling.
Ten push-ups.
That was all.
No applause. No validation. No shortcut.
Yet when he focused inward, the change was unmistakable.
Numbers had moved.
And that made effort sweeter.
Because effort, once seen, became proof.
And proof—
was sweeter than belief.