Yawn
A man slumped against the wall stretched while opening his eyes.
The man was above average, yet nothing special. With medium length blond hair and blue eyes he looked like a typical playboy.
His jawline was the kind as to where it would be sharp if he sucked it in, but roundish otherwise. Slight abs if he flexed, but a round stomach normally. In shape but not particularly fit. In short, he was forgettable. All good qualities but nothing to set him apart.
The kind of face that could blend into a crowd or be mistaken for someone else in a movie. Not quite handsome enough to turn heads, but not plain enough to be dismissed. If one were to pass him on the street, they'd forget him five minutes later—unless he spoke. His voice, deep but uncertain, carried an odd charisma.
The man examined the room he was in. It was all plain and simple. A 5x5 meter cubical space. White tiled floor and plain white walls. A single exit with a metallic grey doorknob. The only notable thing in the room was the floating numbers counting down near the door.
[00:59.57]
"That's not ominous at all"
The man got up and cautiously walked towards the door. When he got near he tried to touch the floating numbers.
To the man's surprise his hand went straight through the numbers instead of being projected on glass as he thought.
Words popped up as he waved his hand through it:
[Hours, Minutes, Seconds]
He wasn't sure what exactly he was expecting—maybe a dream? A lucid hallucination from pulling another all-nighter playing games and surviving off energy drinks? But it felt too real. The cold, sterile floor beneath him, the eerie silence of the room broken only by the ticking countdown, and now, a digital RPG-like interface confirming that yes, this was happening. It was all too tactile to be fake.
"Well that's new, what's next a status screen?"
[Keyword: (Status) detected. Status screen displayed]
[Status: Healthy]
Name: Leo Rivera
Age: 20
Race: Human
Level: 0
—
[Stat points]
Strength: 1.4
Stamina: 1.8
Agility: 2.6
Intelligence: 2.1
Free stat points: 0
—
[Traits and skills:]
Traits: Adaptable
Skills: N/A
—
[Tap for more info]
Leo fell on his butt as a blue light appeared in front of his eyes.
Leo's eyes scanned his status as he got back off the floor.
"Well that seals the deal."
Leo looked upward and closed his eyes.
"I'm screwed"
A single tear ran down his face.
***
After lamenting his situation for a few minutes Leo decided to gather some information.
He first went back to the door and tried to open it. To no one's surprise it didn't open, instead a new message popped up.
[Trial 01]
[Would you like to enter?]
[Yes] [No]
Leo thought for a moment before pressing no.
'With any luck I'll be forced to enter once that timer goes off anyways'
He instead started pressing buttons on his status screen. Much of the expanded information was useless, such as:
[Race: Human]
[Starting Race: Human]
[Current Race: Human]
[Racial Bonuses: None]
However he did manage to get some information while checking out his stats:
[Stat Points]
[Average stat points for an adult human male is 1 in each stat]
[Stats can be gained through natural effort, allocating stat points, or as bonuses from; Race, Equipment, Titles, Traits, or Skills.]
'If the average is 1 in each then I am doing much better than the normal human, in fact I am more than double the average in Agility and Intelligence.'
Leo mulled over this fact for a long moment. His mind turned toward memories of gym class, his mediocre sprint times, the way he always caught on a little faster in school—especially during anything logical or strategic. Chess club, esports tournaments, puzzle games. They weren't just hobbies; apparently they had translated into quantifiable stats now.
Leo clicked on the first stat. The message blinked across Leo's vision like a divine command:
[Strength]
[The body's ability to exert the maximum amount of force on an object]
As the words etched themselves into his mind, Leo felt himself losing consciousness. Reality shimmered—and then shattered like glass.
***
The scene around him changed, from a tiny white room to an apocalyptic city. The smell of burning rubber stung his nose. He was no longer in control of his body. He started to walk, then run.
Suddenly, Leo wasn't Leo anymore.
He was huge.
His shirt tore away in slow motion, seams screaming as muscles erupted beneath his skin. His arms ballooned into tree trunks, skin glowing red and veined like cracked marble. Each breath came like the roar of an engine, deep and rumbling, his chest expanding like it could hold thunder.
He looked down. The ground quivered under his feet.
"RRRAAARGH!"
With a deafening roar, Leo snatched a rusted streetlight out of the pavement like it was a twig. Chunks of concrete clung to the base, falling away as he hefted it one-handed.
A tank rolled onto the scene.
He smirked.
With a single, effortless swing, the streetlight slammed into the tank's side, sending it cartwheeling through the air like a toy. It crashed into a building in the distance, smoke billowing skyward.
He turned, fists clenched, shoulders wide like twin boulders. The world felt small. Breakable.
Nothing could stop him.
Nothing dared try.
Then—
The next message appeared just as Leo was stepping off the curb, almost like his system was waiting for the perfect moment:
[Stamina]
[The amount of durability of the body (Hardness), as well as the length of time that it can exert force (Endurance).]
Leo tilted his head.
"Well, that is interesting."
***
The world dimmed. The destroyed city around him dissolved into a war zone of flickering lights and distant alarms. His size returned to what he was used to. Concrete cracked beneath his boots. His breath came steady, unhurried, as dust floated lazily through the air.
He stood at the center of it all—calm. Immovable.
Gunfire echoed down the corridor. The crack of a rifle. A sharp whistle in the air.
A bullet.
Leo didn't move.
Thmp.
The round hit him dead-center in the chest. It should have dropped him. It should've shattered something.
Instead, it crumpled like tin foil against his skin and fell harmlessly to the floor with a soft clink.
He blinked. Raised an eyebrow.
Another shot. Then three more.
Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.
He didn't even flinch.
His body was like iron sheathed in leather—unscarred, unbothered. The impacts barely made a sound now. He looked down at the marks on his shirt, unimpressed.
Leo could feel it—an endless well of endurance, of stability. No pain, no strain. Just raw, unyielding presence. Every step was like dragging the weight of inevitability behind him. The sense of being a fortress in motion.
Behind him, civilians cowered, peeking from behind overturned tables and barricades.
Leo cracked his knuckles. "My turn."
He took a single step forward.
Bullets kept coming, but he didn't stop. Not once. His pace was slow, steady—relentless. Like a train with no brakes, no fear, and no intention of stopping.
He wasn't fast. He didn't need to be.
He just. Didn't. Fall.
The system message slid into his vision with the calm weight of authority:
[Agility]
[Ability of the body to react and send signals (Speed), as well as of the mind's ability to react to stimuli (Reaction time).]
Leo's eyes lit up.
"Oho. Now that's more my style."
Reality peeled away like wallpaper in a breeze.
***
He stood in the middle of a rain-slick rooftop at night, wind whipping around him, coat flaring dramatically behind him. Neon lights blinked far below. The city was alive. Somewhere in the shadows—a sniper.
CRACK.
The rifle fired.
But to Leo, it was like watching a pebble skip across a lake.
He felt it—before he heard it.
Time slowed to a crawl. The bullet sliced through the air, screaming toward his head.
He didn't panic. Didn't blink.
He moved.
No wasted motion. Just a smooth, fluid tilt of the torso. A pivot of the heel. Barely more than a breath. The bullet whipped past his cheek with a whisper, missing him by a fraction of an inch.
Then the world snapped back to speed.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.
Three more shots.
Leo spun, ducked, and leapt sideways, body twisting like smoke. One bullet grazed his jacket, another passed cleanly through the space where his knee had just been. The last? He caught its trajectory in his mind and sidestepped it mid-air, landing in a crouch behind a rooftop vent.
"Too slow," he muttered.
He sprinted forward now, weaving between steel beams, dancing across puddles, his movements precise—like his nerves had a GPS locked on every motion. He was already where the enemy thought he'd be next.
Before the sniper could even react his throat was slit.
Leo continued to move from the snipers nest down a long hallway, enjoying the freedom that came with his newfound speed. He felt the wind speed by as he zipped past the turned over desks lying on the floor.
The latest system message arrived like the whisper of a clue under a magnifying glass:
[Intelligence]
[Ability of the mind to problem solve and multitask.]
Leo tapped his chin thoughtfully.
The hallway he was gliding down faded. The walls dissolved into brick and fog.
***
Rain fell in slow, deliberate drops. A single streetlamp flickered, casting golden light over a taped-off alleyway in a noir-tinted cityscape. The hum of police chatter buzzed in the background.
Leo stepped under the tape, trench coat swaying, a worn leather notebook tucked under one arm. A classic detective's fedora sat low over his brow, casting a shadow over sharp, calculating eyes.
The officer on scene looked up. "You the consultant?"
Leo didn't answer. He was already moving.
He scanned the scene once—twice—every movement efficient, deliberate. In three seconds, he noted:
A trail of muddy footprints—left boot dragging slightly.
A half-crushed cigarette on the ground—still warm.
A security camera angled just wrong—recently moved.
A faint smear of red lipstick on the trash bin by the wall.
He knelt beside the body.
"Left-handed assailant," he murmured. "Stabbed once, not a fight—this was premeditated. The victim knew them. And… they hesitated."
He stood up, spinning his pen between his fingers as he connected dots at lightning speed.
"Perp's under six feet, nervous, likely local—they used the side alley because they've walked it before. And judging by the footprint depth… limping. Recent injury. Possibly a knee."
Behind him, the officers just stared.
"How do you know all that?" one whispered.
Leo adjusted his hat. "I don't guess. I deduce."
A shout came from the end of the alley. "Suspect in custody! Just like he said—limping, knife in the bag!"
Leo turned, calm and collected. The case was solved, and he hadn't even broken a sweat.
***
Leo blinked and the white room gradually came back into focus.
"Maybe this situation won't be so bad after all..."
He tapped on the final aspect of his status screen: the trait.
[Adaptability]
[Abnormally adaptive to new environments, energies, and genes.]
"That's… helpful, I guess."
"I suppose that's why I haven't been freaking out too much since I got here. It already feels like home."
Leo glanced over at the timer once more.
[00:26.32]
To make the most of the situation, Leo decided to increase his stats while he waited. Six minutes of pushups and sit-ups, followed by twenty minutes of rest. That way, he would be adequately prepared for whatever was on the other side of the trial.
He dropped to the floor and started his pushups.
'1'
'2'
Leo's palms pressed into the smooth, frictionless white floor. It was cold, sterile, and eerily silent, but somehow his body adjusted fast, moving with practiced rhythm. Muscles tensed and released with each repetition, his breathing slow and deliberate.
Leo's mind drifted back to the visions from earlier.
"If it's possible to do the things I saw in those scenes, then I have to increase my stats as much as possible."
'17'
'18'
Sweat started beading on his forehead, trailing down to his jawline before dripping to the floor.
"There'll clearly be chances to earn stat points, titles, and equipment."
'34'
'35'
He could feel the burn beginning in his arms and shoulders. A good burn. The kind that told him he was alive. The kind that reminded him of high school gym class, but this time, the stakes were his life.
"As long as I don't get myself killed, I can become superhuman."
'68'
'69'
His arms began trembling slightly. Gritting his teeth, Leo pushed through, willing his body forward with sheer determination.
"Not to mention skills… maybe even magic. Or aura."
'99'
'100'
Leo collapsed into a pile of sweat, chest heaving. The white ceiling above offered no comfort, but lying on the cool floor felt almost rewarding. He closed his eyes briefly, letting his breath steady.
"Time to see if my stats increased," he muttered.
"Status."
[Status: Healthy]
Name: Leo Rivera
Age: 20
Race: Human
Level: 0
—
[Stat points]
Strength: 1.4
Stamina: 1.8
Agility: 2.6
Intelligence: 2.1
Free stat points: 0
—
[Traits and skills:]
Traits: Adaptable
Skills: N/A
—
[Tap for more info]
Leo stared.
"Whelp, there goes all my wasted time and energy. Not even a 0.01?!?"
He groaned, flopping his arms to the side. The sound of his breath echoed faintly in the empty room.
"Stick to the plan," he told himself.
He sat up, legs folded beneath him, hands resting on his knees. Closing his eyes again, Leo focused inward. He imagined a still pond, each thought a ripple disturbing the surface. Slowly, the ripples faded.
"Whatever the trial is, I need to be ready—physically and mentally. There's no room to be soft when my life's on the line."
He spent the next ten minutes meditating, clearing his mind, focusing his thoughts. Each breath became a silent affirmation: I will survive. I will adapt. I will overcome.
Then he used the final ten to stretch and prep his body. He rotated his shoulders, twisted his torso, bent into deep lunges and held them. Every joint, every limb, had to be ready.
The timer ticked down.
[00:00.03]
[00:00.02]
[00:00.01]
[00:00.00]
[Rest limit complete. Starting trial]
[Good luck challenger]