Chapter 4: The Cloaking Mantle
Alex paced the cramped space of his apartment. The Enhanced Metabolism skill had turned his internal state from sluggish despair into urgent, buzzing energy. He was starving, not just for food, but for movement. He felt the passive skill working, heating his body slightly, demanding fuel.
He desperately scrolled through the [Utility] skill tree again, searching for an affordable, basic skill that might grant him stealth or invisibility. Every useful ability—like [Aura Dampening] or [Low-Level Disguise]—cost between 3 and 5 SP. He had zero.
"This is ridiculous," Alex muttered, running a hand through his impossibly soft, mahogany hair. "The system saves my life and then gives me a quest I can't start without exposing myself to the people I ran away from."
The CFES screen popped up, displaying a concise text box.
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[SYSTEM ALERT: RESOURCE MANAGEMENT]
Host is required to complete Mandatory Quest 2. SP is only a tool, not a requirement for physical effort.
Recommended Strategy: Exploit current Host status for temporary stealth.
Current "Glutton" Title and size often result in social avoidance and low cognitive recognition from surrounding NPCs. Utilize this inherent *Cloaking Mantle* until first weight milestone is reached.
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Alex felt a cold wave of realization wash over the urgency. The system was telling him to use the very thing that had driven him to the roof—his size and the resulting public scorn—as his temporary shield. People had already made up their minds about him; they wouldn't look closely enough to see the perfect skin and glowing hair beneath the cheap, oversized hoodie he wore.
The first step was to ditch the junk food. Alex spent five minutes filling three trash bags with all the processed, high-calorie, sugary remnants of his shut-in existence. The next step was acquiring high-protein, low-fat groceries.
He waited until 2:00 AM. In the small, quiet town outside the main college hub, this was the dead zone. He pulled on a dark baseball cap low over his eyes and the largest, most shapeless grey hoodie he owned.
The air outside was freezing, a sharp, clean contrast to the stagnant heat of his apartment. Alex kept his head down, walking with a nervous, hunched speed toward the 24-hour convenience store three blocks away.
The trip was agonizingly tense. Every passing car made him flinch, expecting a yell or a flash from a phone camera. But the system was right. No one looked. The few people he saw—a delivery driver, a lone late-night worker—didn't spare him a second glance. They saw a large, anonymous shape and looked away.
Inside the brightly lit store, Alex navigated quickly, his newfound metabolic hunger overriding his social anxiety. He grabbed chicken breasts, a bag of frozen vegetables, oatmeal, and a gallon of water.
As he reached the checkout, the clerk—a tired woman staring blankly at a magazine—registered his purchase, but not him.
"That'll be four fifty," she mumbled, without raising her head.
Alex paid in cash, his hands shaking slightly less than they had on the roof. The transaction was purely functional. He was an object buying objects. The invisibility was bitter, but effective.
Back in the apartment, Alex devoured a quick, clean meal. The food tasted intensely better than any processed junk he remembered. His body was reacting positively to the clean fuel, and the system registered the immediate health boost.
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[BODY STATS UPDATE]
Health: 35% (+5% from nutrient acquisition)
Stamina: 15% (+5% from nutrient acquisition)
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It was 3:30 AM. He had food. Now, the exercise.
Since he couldn't afford a gym membership and the thought of public exercise was paralyzing, Alex decided on a secluded path: the back access road of the industrial park behind his apartment complex. It was dark, paved, and guaranteed to be empty.
He changed into old sweats and stepped back out into the cold night.
He started walking. Then, slowly, painfully, he attempted a jog.
His chest burned. His knees ached. Every step was a monumental effort for his atrophied muscles. The Enhanced Metabolism skill was a furnace, but it still required physical input. The agony of the first run was real and overwhelming.
Just four minutes ago, I wanted this pain to end forever. Now, I'm running into it.
He pushed on, focusing only on the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement, the glossy, perfect hair bouncing with the movement, a surreal element on his straining, heavy body.
As he rounded a corner near a loading dock, the roar of an engine shattered the night's peace. A black pickup truck—huge, lifted, and unmistakable—came tearing down the industrial road, its headlights blinding him.
Panic seized Alex's throat. That truck was too familiar. It belonged to Liam, one of the fraternity brothers who had driven him out of college—the worst of the bullies.
Alex instinctively threw himself behind a large, empty dumpster, his heart hammering in his ears, praying the "Cloaking Mantle" would hold. The truck sped past, the bass from its speakers shaking the ground, too fast to register the large shadow pressed against the metal. It was gone in seconds.
Alex slumped against the cold metal, gasping. He was shaking, but alive, and unseen. He was still the "Glutton" to them, and in their minds, "The Glutton" didn't run.
He forced himself back upright and finished his route.
After thirty minutes of agonizing start-and-stop jogging, he leaned against a chain-link fence, gulping air.
The CFES screen shimmered again, but this time, it was green—a progress bar.
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[MANDATORY QUEST 2: SHAPE THE CORE]
Task: Achieve a 20-pound reduction in body mass.
Progress: 0.8 lbs lost (Session 1: Endurance Exercise)
Current Body Mass Reduction: 0.8 / 20.0 lbs
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Alex felt a fierce, primal joy. 0.8 pounds. It was only 0.8 pounds, but it was quantifiable progress driven by his own effort, guided by the system. He was moving, he was changing, and he had successfully made it through his first encounter with the outside world.
He had a long way to go, but the path to his new self, his femboy evolution, had finally begun.