Chapter 2. Mode activated: Hyperfocus

The moment I opened my eyes, I did not feel the usual urge to bury my face in the pillow and ignore reality for another ten minutes. My mind felt clear, as if someone had scrubbed away the mental garbage and gray fog of sleep deprivation. I immediately summoned the interface.

[Control Panel: TRAINER]

Level: 1

S-Power: 10/10

Special Command: 3/3 (Available for Use)

They had recovered. I locked that fact in my mind as a critically important variable. If the counter had been 1/3 after yesterday’s orders and now it was full again, then some regeneration mechanic existed. But what kind? Either a fixed cooldown, say one order every three hours, or, which was more likely in video game logic, recovery happened during the “deep phase” of sleep. I would need to run measurements later to determine whether I could spam orders throughout the day or had to conserve them like the last round in a magazine.

Most importantly, the status line for the “Monster” category, meaning myself, no longer displayed the tag [Chronic Fatigue].

I got out of bed, listening to my body. No cracking in the lower back, no heaviness in my legs. Years of computer work had drained the life out of me. Endless deadlines, reports that “were needed yesterday,” and constant pressure from management had turned me into a squeezed lemon by the age of thirty two. Yet today I felt as if I were eighteen again with my whole life ahead of me rather than another quarterly audit.

After taking a shower and putting on my “battle armor,” a standard black two piece suit with a perfectly ironed shirt, I headed downstairs to the kitchen. The air in the house was filled with the heavy, comforting smell of fried bacon and freshly ground coffee.

“Good morning,” Mom said as she lifted an omelet from the pan. She paused, glancing at the clock and then at me with surprise. “You are early today. Usually I have to knock on your door three times before you show signs of life.”

“I slept well.” I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “I hope you did not have to rush because of me.”

“Do not worry,” she said with a smile, hanging her apron on the back of the chair. “I wake up at dawn anyway. It is not like I have anywhere to hurry.”

I knew that many people my age considered living with their parents a sign of failure. I had always looked at it through pure rationality. Mom was alone, she did not work, and taking care of her was my direct responsibility and priority. Renting her a separate place simply to match someone else’s social expectations? That was foolish. It meant extra expenses that were better directed toward the mortgage. Besides, her help around the house freed the few scraps of time I could spend on rest.

The moment I raised the first forkful of omelet to my mouth, the interface came alive again, covering my view of the plate.

[The presence of the Trainer enhances metabolism]

[Effect: 100% nutrient absorption]

[Status: Food is being converted into pure energy and structural material for muscle fibers]

I froze with my mouth full. Normally a heavy breakfast made me sleepy, since the body spent resources on digestion. But now… I could physically feel the warmth of the food spreading through my body not as heaviness but as energy. As if I were fueling a high tech engine with perfect fuel. The mental commands did not provide a detailed breakdown, but the logic was obvious. The System had optimized my digestive tract. No waste, no excess fat, only fuel for growth.

“What are you thinking about?” Mom’s voice pulled me away from staring at the blue lines.

“What?” I blinked and the window vanished. “Nothing. Just thinking about work. The food is great, thanks.”

So only I could see the notifications. That confirmed the theory that the interface was integrated directly into my mind. Then the System delivered another portion of data:

[Familiar object analysis complete…]

[Recommendation: Increase seafood and chitin consumption to strengthen bone structure]

Where else was I supposed to grow? At thirty two the skeleton was already formed, and from that point on it only declined. But the System clearly thought otherwise. It did not see my body as a “human,” but as a “development unit.”

“More coffee?” Mom reached for the coffee pot.

“Not today. Actually, I think I will switch to milk starting tomorrow. And… maybe we should cook fish more often?”

I had never liked fish, and lobsters were far too expensive for a daily diet. But if the System required phosphorus and calcium in these quantities, then my build clearly needed its foundation adjusted.

“You are acting strange today,” Mom said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

I only shrugged. I would tell her everything eventually, just not during the morning rush. That conversation would require time, patience, and possibly a demonstration of abilities, something I was not yet mentally prepared to do.

Stepping outside, I inhaled the fresh morning air. The office was only a twenty minute walk at an easy pace along a clean sidewalk, one of the few privileges of my current job. No traffic jams, no suffocating crowds in the subway.

I walked past familiar storefronts while the sun pleasantly warmed my shoulders. There it was, my building. A typical concrete cube, an office anthill where everyone knew their place. The turnstiles obediently beeped as they accepted my pass. Security gave a lazy nod.

As a kid I dreamed about fighting monsters, yet reality had locked me in an office where the main battle was calculating someone else’s profit. Even so, I valued this place. It offered stability. It offered vacations and those corporate parties everyone complained about yet secretly enjoyed. Half of my former classmates were still surviving on freelance work while envying my position.

Maybe I did not own a yacht, but I had stability. I had it until yesterday evening.

In the corridors, coworkers exchanged the usual news about their weekends. I avoided conversations and headed straight to my office, a small but private space. That was another bonus of my position: a closed door and a monitor angled so no one could see what I was doing during the rare quiet moments.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Today, however, quiet moments were unlikely.

The computer had not even finished loading the desktop when the door burst open without a knock. Mr. Miller stood in the doorway. My boss. A man whose suit seemed fused to his body over the past ten years, while his face had taken on the shade of office paper.

“Tom,” he said without even greeting me. “I need the full sales report for last month by tomorrow morning. Regional breakdown included.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied automatically.

The words about quitting stuck in my throat. Leaving now without finishing my responsibilities and without receiving my salary for the current month would be irresponsible. I needed the money. Dying inside a portal would not cancel a mortgage. That meant I would have to stay here another day or two until I figured out how to convert my superpowers into real income.

Miller nodded and left, leaving behind the scent of cologne my grandfather used to wear. I looked at the blinking cursor on the screen. I had ninety days before the army. And I was about to spend the first day writing a report that did nothing to increase my chances of survival.

I needed the paycheck. I had to finish this job before building a new life.

I leaned back in the chair and it creaked in its usual way, as if sympathizing with my fate. Work like this normally squeezed every drop of energy out of me. Numbers started to blur by the fifth hour, and by midnight my back turned into a single burning knot of pain. I would probably end up staying late again, drinking cold coffee and staring at endless columns of sales data.

I checked my email. Empty. The sales team, as usual, was in no hurry to send the receipts. After sending them a short but pointed reminder, I realized I had at least an hour of free time. In office life, that was a tiny window of freedom I normally wasted scrolling through endless meme feeds.

But today memes did not even cross my mind. My status screen kept appearing in front of my eyes.

[Status of Trainee: MONSTER]

Race: Human (Homo Sapiens)

Level: 1