Victor woke to the faint hum of the system interface hovering in the corner of his vision. His apartment smelled of wet wood, leftover instant noodles, and the faint musk of damp clothes.
The persistent drip from the ceiling sounded like a metronome, counting the slow rhythm of his life.
He rubbed his eyes, feeling every ache from the night before—the lingering burn in his lungs, the tight knot in his shoulders, the subtle tremor of adrenaline that refused to fade.
The first real-world Core Task had been completed, but the system had made sure he knew: survival wasn't enough. Growth had to continue.
A notification blinked gently before him:
"Cognitive Dimension: Unlock Available. Initiate Mind Training to Begin."
Victor blinked. Mind training? I can barely handle running into strangers without panicking.
He pressed the prompt hesitantly. The interface shifted. His apartment dissolved around him, replaced by a vast, simulated cityscape bathed in soft neon light.
Buildings stretched impossibly high, streets twisted like ribbons, and people walked as if in a dream—though none were real. Every surface, every object, every figure radiated the system's quiet, analytical glow.
At the edge of his vision, a figure appeared atop a virtual rooftop. Calm, poised, and observing, she didn't move toward him—yet her presence carried authority. Victor instinctively straightened.
"Welcome to the Cognitive Dimension," she said. "Here, your mind will be tested before your body. Every decision matters."
Victor swallowed hard. He wanted to ask questions—what this was, how real it was—but the system didn't allow interruptions.
Instead, text floated in his vision:
Task 1: Solve the Problem Before You. Failure reduces mental stamina.
A holographic scenario unfolded before him. A small child stood in the middle of a virtual street, frozen in fear as a speeding hover-car approached.
Two buttons appeared above him:
Intervene Directly: Push the child out of the way, risking harm to yourself.
Use Observation: Calculate timing and path to guide the child safely without physical contact.
Victor hesitated. His body tensed. Observation seems safer… but will it count as success?
He closed his eyes briefly, letting his mind run the calculations the system seemed to demand. Step timing, reaction speed, angle of trajectory. Every movement, every fraction of a second, mattered.
The hover-car's speed, the child's frozen stance, even the small crack in the street that could shift the trajectory—it all had to be accounted for.
He pressed the "Observation" option. The system hummed. Lights pulsed along the virtual street, showing the child's movement. The hover-car swerved with perfect precision around the child as Victor's calculation guided it virtually.
Task Complete. Reward: +2 Cognitive Skill, +1 Focus.
Victor stumbled back, panting. The figure's eyes glimmered faintly from the rooftop.
"Not bad. You're learning to trust your mind, not just your instincts."
He allowed himself a small, shaky smile. That was just one task… but it felt like surviving a lifetime.
Next came a more complex simulation. A virtual city block transformed before him, twisting, expanding, collapsing, as an intricate puzzle of pathways and obstacles appeared. Text popped up:
Task 2: Escape Without Using Violence.
Victor's first instinct was panic. He had always reacted to problems physically, directly, with force or speed. But this… this demanded strategy, prediction, and analysis.
He began walking slowly, observing every corner, every shadow, every movement. The buildings shifted around him like living organisms, forcing him to calculate distances, predict collapses, and find paths that didn't exist a second ago.
For nearly twenty minutes, he ran simulations in his mind while his body moved with precision. Every wrong turn triggered subtle warnings from the system: a faint vibration, a text reminder, a soft chime signaling inefficiency.
If I misstep, the route collapses. If I miscalculate, I'm trapped. I need to anticipate…
He paused, crouched behind a folding staircase.
The path ahead split into three corridors—one led to a dead end that wasn't visible yet, one looped back toward the starting point, and the last… possibly led to the exit. His mind raced.
The system pulsed softly: "Predict, don't react."
Victor exhaled, calculated trajectory angles, memorized shadows that marked structural weaknesses, and moved. The corridors folded, stretched, and twisted around him.
He jumped over collapsing beams, ducked under sliding walls, and finally reached an open rooftop.
Task Complete. Reward: +2 Cognitive Skill, +1 Problem-Solving. Core Task Progress: 25%.
Victor slumped against the edge of the rooftop, sweat beading his forehead, heart racing. This is… harder than anything I've done before.
The figure stepped closer, calm, measuring, but careful not to intervene. "Cognitive growth is different from physical strength. You can't force it. You have to guide it, train it, sharpen it. And more importantly, you must think ahead of the consequences."
Victor nodded, though he wasn't sure he fully understood. "And if I fail?"
She gave a faint smile, almost imperceptible. "Then you'll learn. Pain is still part of growth—even mental pain."
The real world returned abruptly. Victor's apartment was as grimy and dripping as before, but he felt… different. Something inside him was sharper, more alert.
The system confirmed it:
Cognitive Dimension: 5% Active. Reward Allocation Complete. Mental Focus +5%, Memory Retention +5%.
He sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The system had given him a taste of what he could achieve—but it had also shown him that growth demanded constant effort, calculation, and risk.
He picked up a notebook and began scribbling observations. If the system wants me to succeed… I need to track patterns, anticipate tasks, remember details. His hand shook slightly as he wrote, but a spark of determination glimmered in his chest.
A subtle movement in the corner of his room caught his eye—the figure from the simulation had vanished, leaving only a note on his desk:
"You did well today. But growth is a constant challenge. Be ready."
Victor stared at the note. He didn't know who exactly was watching him, or why, but one thing was clear: he could not ignore the guidance.
And the system pulsed softly at his wrist, as if reminding him: "Next Core Task unlocked soon. Prepare for challenge."
Victor clenched his fists. He didn't feel invincible—far from it. But something had shifted. He could feel his mind stretching, expanding, just enough to glimpse the man he might become.
Somewhere in the distance, the figure lingered in the shadows, calm and observant. Not guiding, not interfering—simply watching.
Victor clenched his fists. He didn't know why the system had chosen him, or what it wanted in return, but he knew one thing: he couldn't afford to fail. Not tonight. Not ever. The challenges ahead were unknown, the risks unseen, and yet… he had no choice but to rise.