Food was scarce at home. The fridge was nearly empty, my stomach ached, and my body craved rest and energy. And as far as I remembered, I still had some money in my account…
"Damn, they stole my phone along with my wallet. I need to block my card and SIM card ASAP. And I need to put something in my stomach," a belated and obvious thought flashed through my mind, and I reached for the laptop again.
Thank all the gods my memories included the login and password for my mobile bank, and Lyokha had saved everything in the browser's autofill. I logged in. There were just under three hundred dollars in the account. I transferred the money to an e-wallet and blocked the card. Not much, but enough for a few days of normal life. As for rent, I—well, Lyokha—according to my memories, had paid a week in advance, so I didn't have to worry about a roof over my head for now.
Then I found a food delivery website. I chose something simple but fatty—cheap pasta with chicken, a small slice of cheesecake, and two bottles of water. Placed the order for delivery to my address, which I also remembered from my memories.
As for the SIM card, I needed to call the operator, but I had no phone. Taking a couple of dollars, I limped my way to the cranky old neighbor, Miss Garcia, with whom, according to fragmented memories, Lyokha had a strained relationship. I knocked. From behind the door came grumbling and the sound of the lock being unlatched.
The door opened just enough to reveal one eye, outlined with black eyeliner.
— What do you want, Russian? — she asked unpleasantly.
— Good afternoon, Miss Garcia. I was robbed recently, and my phone was stolen. I can't call the operator to block my SIM card. And I need to call work to report my situation. Could I make two calls from your phone? — I tried to speak as politely as possible, though my voice was still hoarse.
The eye studied me, taking in the bruises.
— Oh, the youth these days… — she grumbled, but she did open the door. — Just make it quick. My phone is on the nightstand. And if you take too long, you'll get it from me.
— Thank you, Miss Garcia.
Limping into her apartment, I grabbed the landline with huge buttons and dialed the customer support number. While I was being connected, Miss Garcia didn't take her eyes off me, her arms crossed over her chest.
Once connected, I explained the situation and asked to block my SIM card and request a replacement. It went smoothly and quickly, and as soon as the call ended, I dialed the second number from memory. After a few rings, a man with an accent answered.
— Hello? Armand's store.
— Mr. Armand, this is Alexey Vetrov.
There was a pause on the other end.
— Alexey? God, man, where have you been? Three days without a call or message! My orders are falling through!
— I was robbed. In the Bronx. Beaten up, phone stolen, bike taken, backpack… — my voice trembled on its own. I wasn't pretending—the pain and humiliation were all too real.
Another pause, this time more sympathetic.
— Oh, man. At least you're alive. Broken bones?
— Bruises, ribs hurt, but I think they're intact. I barely made it home. I only just started feeling better.
— Listen, kid… Your bike and phone are gone, sure. But you're alive—that's what matters. Don't worry. I'll write that off as a loss from your paycheck. Your last week's wages will cover part of the damage. Get better, come back when you're back on your feet. There's always work.
I even let out a relieved breath because I'd been expecting yelling and threats, but this… this was almost human kindness.
— Thank you, Mr. Armand. I really appreciate it.
— Yeah, yeah, take care.
As soon as the call ended, I felt a little lighter. It turned out this world wasn't entirely made up of jerks.
— All right. Thank you again, Miss Garcia. — I dug into my pocket and pulled out a couple of dollars. — Here, for your trouble.
She took the money, eyed it suspiciously, and tucked it into the pocket of her robe.
— Fine, go on. And be careful—times are dangerous these days. First aliens, then guys in tights. At least we've got Captain America. That's who the youth of today should look up to…
Grumbling, she shut the door behind me. And I finally sighed in relief. Two problems were solved.
Soon, the delivery arrived. The smell of hot pasta and meat hit my nose, and my mouth immediately watered. I grabbed the bag and hurried to the only table in the apartment. When I opened the container, steam rose into my face, carrying the scent of garlic, cheese, and chicken.
I ate without hesitation, shoveling spaghetti into my mouth with a fork. For me, this was a feast. My stomach, which had barely received anything but water in the past few days, responded with a pleasant warmth and a sense of fullness. And for dessert, there was cheesecake. It was sweet, rich, and tender. I washed it all down with the water in big gulps. For the first time in days, I didn't feel like a survivor—I felt like a person who had just had dinner.
Fullness brought clarity of thought. I called up the system interface again. To start training, I needed to push myself to the limit, but my body was still barely alive. A couple more days. I needed a few more days of rest, proper food, and sleep. Otherwise, I'd die on the first workout—literally.
But sitting idle wasn't an option either. My money was slowly running out. And then I remembered freelancing. Lyokha had tried to pick up gigs here and there, but he wasn't very good at it—he lacked knowledge and experience. But me… I had all that. I opened his profile on one of the freelance platforms. His reputation was modest, with few reviews. But the main thing was that I started comparing the programming languages I knew with the ones used in this world. My heart pounded with anticipation. Java, C++, Python…
"Everything's here! The syntax is the same, the paradigms are the same—so I'm not helpless. I can work!"
The next four days flew by in a monotonous rhythm. I woke up, made tea, ate the leftovers—ordering a lot at once to save on delivery—and sat down at the laptop. I looked for simple gigs—fixing code, finding vulnerabilities, writing small scripts. I took them cheaply but did them quickly and well. Reviews started trickling in slowly. Money, though small, began to accumulate in my e-wallet.
I slept for twelve hours. Although I wanted to sit at the computer around the clock, common sense told me a sick body needed rest. I ate, worked, and slept. And every day, the bruises on my face yellowed, the pain in my ribs dulled, and my faith in a better future grew stronger.
On the fifth day, I woke up and realized that was enough moping around. My body still ached, but it obeyed me. So it was time to move. I decided to go for a walk. I dressed in the simplest, most inconspicuous clothes I could find, tucked a few bills into my pocket, and went out.
It was daytime, sunny. The air was cool but fresh. The neighborhood wasn't the best—there was trash lying around, walls covered in graffiti—but there weren't many people, and everyone was rushing about their own business. I just walked, looking around, breathing in the air. I saw ordinary people, little shops, cars. No supervillains, no fights. Just life. It was… normal.
"Almost like home." That thought even made my heart feel calmer.
I returned tired but satisfied. And on that positive wave, I looked at my pathetic stats in the middle of the room and thought:
"Time to start. And the simplest thing, I guess, is push-ups."
I pressed my hands against the cold, dirty floor. Did my first push-up. My muscles screamed. Second. Third. By the fifth, my breath was ragged, and my arms trembled traitorously. My head swam with thoughts:
"That's it. This is my limit. I can stop here. Besides, if I keep going, I might hurt myself."
But I remembered the system and Will Points. They're earned through overcoming. Through going beyond.
I forced myself to do more. And more. My breath became a wheeze, my temples pounded, and black spots danced before my eyes. Every new movement was like overcoming myself, exactly what I needed. I barely felt my arms anymore—just the burning in my muscles and the leaden weight in my body. I did one more… and another… And then my strength finally left me. I collapsed onto the floor, unable to move a hand or foot. Tears streamed down my face—from pain, weakness, and helplessness.
And at that moment, deep in my consciousness, a quiet but clear sound rang out, like a notification on a phone.
I immediately called up the system interface. In the line where it had previously said [Will Points: 0], there was now a 1.
"Yes! It worked. I earned my first achievement."
But the joy was quickly replaced by a wave of wild exhaustion.
"Ugh, I feel awful. I'll look into the WP later." And with these undoubtedly sensible thoughts, I somehow crawled back to the mattress, pulled the blanket over myself, and passed out without even eating dinner.
I woke up with the distinct feeling that I'd been run over by a steamroller. Even though I could barely roll onto my back, a stupid smile spread across my face. My mood was excellent—no, magnificent. Through the pain, wild satisfaction pushed through.
"It worked. I actually did it."
Without even getting up from the mattress, I called up the interface. The white numbers hung clearly in the air:
[Will Points: 1]
A single point, earned at the cost of tears and pain. But it was mine. My first real victory in this world.
And then my attention shifted to the list on the right—"Features." Now that I had something to spend, it tantalized me like forbidden fruit. I mentally clicked the question mark, and another stream of structured, dry information flooded my mind.
Everything was divided into sections. I awkwardly settled in as comfortably as I could and started studying the four sections.
[SECTION I: PHYSICAL SUPERIORITY]
Steel Foundation
Level I: Slightly increases bone density and ligament strength.
Requirement: Endurance-4.
Bamboo Flexibility
Level I: Muscles and tendons gain increased elasticity.
Requirement: Agility-4.
Unbreakable Heart
Level I: Improves oxygen exchange efficiency.
Requirement: Strength-4.
Metabolic Balance
Level I: Body slightly improves nutrient absorption and energy regulation.
Requirement: Endurance-4.
Accelerated Recovery
Level I: Slightly accelerates natural healing of minor wounds.
Requirement: Strength-4.
[SECTION II: MENTAL AND SENSORY ACUITY]
Living Memory
Level I: Accelerates consolidation of short-term memories into long-term ones.
Requirement: Perception-4.
Critical Eye
Level I: Allows noticing the smallest inconsistencies and anomalies in the environment.
Requirement: Perception-4.
Quiet Mind
Level I: Increases concentration, reducing the influence of external distractions.
Requirement: Perception-4.
Tactile Intelligence
Level I: Improves proprioception and balance, giving a clearer understanding of body position in space.
Requirement: Agility-4.
Whisper of Intuition
Level I: Sharpens the sixth sense, allowing subconscious detection of hidden threats or opportunities.
Requirement: Perception-4.
[SECTION III: MASTERY OF LEARNING AND CONTROL]
Language of Flesh
Level I: Provides innate, intuitive understanding of anatomy and muscle kinesiology.
Requirement: Perception-4.
Movement Analyzer
Level I: Allows faster visual deconstruction and understanding of complex physical movements.
Requirement: Perception-4.
Structural Thinking
Level I: Improves logical analysis and understanding of basic mechanical principles.
Requirement: Perception-4.
Empathic Map
Level I: Facilitates reading and interpreting basic emotions and body language.
Requirement: Perception-4.
Iron Discipline
Level I: Ability to ignore momentary impulses and urges.
Requirement: Earn 1 WP in a single event.
Nerve Rope
Level I: Raises innate pain threshold and ability to maintain mental clarity under stress.
Requirement: Endurance-4.
[SECTION IV: LIMITS]
Limit Breaker
Level I: Removes limits from physical attributes (Strength, Agility, Endurance) up to 11.
Requirement: One physical attribute (Strength, Agility, or Endurance) reaches its natural limit (10).
Awakening of the Mind
Level I: Removes the limit from the mental attribute (Perception) up to 11.
Requirement: Mental attribute (Perception) reaches its natural limit (10).
And at the very bottom, in small print, was the note that made me feel a little uneasy:
Each Feature has 5 levels. The cost of each subsequent level increases in geometric progression:
Level 1 — 1 WP;
Level 2 — 2 WP;
Level 3 — 4 WP;
Level 4 — 8 WP;
Level 5 — 16 WP.
I let out a low whistle. Sixteen Will Points for Level 5? To earn that, I'd have to stop Thanos single-handedly several times or take down Hydra entirely. It was insane, of course.
The euphoria from having a point began to fade, replaced by difficult thoughts.
Earning Will Points is brutally hard. This isn't like in games, where you get experience for killing every rat or mosquito. Here, you really have to tear yourself apart, and each time it gets harder. And that's the main problem with my system. If my assumptions are correct, the stronger I become, the higher the bar for earning the next WP. Yesterday, push-ups to the limit were enough. Tomorrow, I might have to run a marathon for the same result. The day after, I might have to fight a knife-wielding thug. And after that… who knows.
So the strategy needs to be planned now. Spending my first WP on something random would only complicate my life, not simplify it. Moreover, many features have requirements for base attributes. And with my current stats, I'm severely limited. "Structural Thinking" is available immediately, but would it help me right now? Maybe. "Nerve Rope" or "Iron Discipline" sound useful—pain and laziness are my biggest enemies right now. Other features are also available, but they seemed less interesting to me right now, though I admitted their usefulness.
Damn, the choice is tough. Too tough for my exhausted body and mind. So I decided not to rush. To think it over for a couple more days. Maybe I could earn another WP the same way—through pain and humiliation in my own dump. Then it would be easier to choose where to invest, and maybe I could even take a couple of Level 1 features.
With difficulty, I got up to make tea and have a snack. But the thought that this wasn't in vain—that there was a purpose to the pain—made it almost pleasant.
By evening, after working on the laptop and coming to my senses a little, I looked at the floor again. The thought was stupid, but I really wanted to test it.
What if the system gives WP for repetitive actions? If I push myself to the limit again, would I get a second point?
I pressed my hands against the cold floor again and did my first push-up.
"Oh, mother of God!"
It was just as painful as yesterday—no, worse, since my muscles hadn't recovered yet. Second. Third. Again, that familiar burning, trembling arms, black spots in my eyes. But now I knew what to expect. The thought of a possible second WP gave me strength, and through the pain, I literally forced my muscles to contract.
Again, I crawled to the point where my body refused to obey and collapsed onto the floor, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. I lay there, waiting. Waiting for that quiet sound in my head.
But it didn't come. Silence. Only the pounding of my heart in my ears and heavy breathing.
And I realized. You can't fool the system. It gave me one WP for the first breakthrough, for overcoming myself. Now this was just a tough workout. To get the next one, I'd have to do something truly extreme. Keep doing push-ups until I passed out? I was genuinely afraid of that, because such attempts could kill me. My untrained heart might not handle it.
Slumped over in pain and slight disappointment, I somehow crawled back to the mattress.
"Well, nothing's ever easy. I'll have to find other ways. But first—get some sleep."
I pulled the blanket over myself and almost instantly fell into a deep, indifferent sleep.
For the next three days, I thought, worked, and recovered. The Marvel world with its heroes and villains lived its own life—news sites flashed reports of skirmishes somewhere out there, so for me, it was just noise. My struggle was here, in the four walls of this dumpy apartment. A struggle with the pain in my ribs, with aching muscles after every attempt to get in shape, with the temptation to give it all up and just go with the flow. I ate cheap instant noodles, drank tea, and spent hours at the laptop searching freelance platforms for any decent gigs. Money slowly but surely accumulated—enough for the cheapest smartphone to stay connected. And all this time, the same question echoed in my mind:
"Where should I invest my precious and only Will Point?"