Chapter 25. Enemy Analysis Online

The heavy barbell hit the rubberized floor of my private gym with a dull, meaty thud. The sound echoed off the mirrors, and the vibration traveled through the soles of my sneakers straight into my bones. I loosened my fingers, and my palms, burning from the cold metal and biting chalk, finally relaxed. My muscles did not just ache, they hummed, like high-voltage wires under load. Every fiber in my body vibrated in sync with that low, pleasant hum.

Right before my eyes, translucent system windows surfaced in the air. They glowed with a soft bluish light, overlaying the familiar gym environment.

[Strength +1]

[Agility +1]

[Endurance +1]

[Your Familiar is Growing]

[Trainer Level Increased!]

I exhaled, feeling the hot air leave my lungs. Finally. Eight weeks. Fifty-six days of monotonous, exhausting work for this moment. To crawl my way to level three, I had to squeeze everything out of myself.

If reaching level two only required raising my stats twice, now the rules of the game had changed. Level three demanded triple the progress. It sounded like simple math, but in reality it was far harsher. Stat growth had treacherously slowed down. Where ten sets used to be enough, now it took one hundred twenty. To move my strength even a fraction, I had to load extra plates onto the bar until it began to bend ominously. To keep my endurance from stagnating, I ran until the treadmill started warning about overheating.

I spent five hours here every single day. Five hours of sweat and heavy breathing. And that was with a passive growth bonus from the [Trainer] class. Honestly, if not for the system’s ability to skip the tedious parts of training, compressing hours of torment into fleeting moments, I would have quit in the first month.

I know myself. I am not one of those iron-willed titans who move mountains through sheer stubbornness. If something does not bring me enjoyment, I forget about it faster than yesterday’s breakfast. The only exception is work. When rent bills and an empty fridge loom on the horizon, I can grit my teeth and endure any kind of grind. Money is the best motivator for a guy as hopeless as me.

While I was reflecting on my questionable personality, the system delivered another batch of notifications. The very ones I had been torturing myself for all this time.

[Special Command +1]

[Tactical Mode +1]

[New skill acquired: Enemy Analysis]

[Enemy Analysis: allows the Trainer to perform a preventive analysis of a subject to develop an attack or retreat strategy]

“Hm…” I narrowed my eyes, reading the lines.

Sounds promising, but vague. What does “preventive analysis” even mean? Will I see a list of their fears, or just learn how much they bench? I could speculate forever, but practice beats theory.

Before experimenting, I stepped up to the massive wall-length mirror. Under the bright lights, the reflection staring back at me was… both me and not me at the same time. I froze, trying to find my old self in it.

My face had barely changed. The same features, the same gaze, though my cheekbones were sharper and the fat was gone from my cheeks. My height stayed the same, thank God. If my bones had started growing from training, turning me into a giant, I would have had to explain things to my neighbors and replace my entire wardrobe. But everything below the chin… that was surreal. A bodybuilder’s dream straight off a magazine cover.

My muscles now resembled tightly braided steel cables. Defined, dry, without a trace of excess weight. Every movement played with shadows beneath the skin. The only reason I did not look like a massive, immobile slab of meat was that I had been pushing agility along with strength. Heavyweights in real life often cannot even scratch their own backs because of their bulk, but I felt light and springy.

I used to look at beach boys on social media with mild disdain. I would think, “What do you even need those inflated muscles for? Just to show off in front of other posers.” And here it was, pure irony. Now I looked like a model from a sunscreen ad. A cruel joke by the system.

“Alright, let’s see the numbers,” I muttered, summoning the interface.

[Control Panel: TRAINER]

Level: 3

S-Power: 12/12

Special Command: 4/5

Tactical Mode: 2/2

Enemy Analysis: cost 1 S-Power

[Subject Status: MONSTER]

Level: 1

Race: Human (Homo Sapiens)

Attributes:

Strength: 10 (Peak human capability)

Endurance: 8 (You can run a marathon. Twice)

Agility: 9 (You can easily balance on a rope while juggling knives)

Current Effects: No negative statuses.

I let out a low whistle. Yeah, this looked far more solid than the pathetic sight I had been on day one. Ten in strength… peak human capability.

What exactly did that mean? Could I move a train now or lift a truck like those guys from the Guinness World Records? Excitement fluttered inside me. I would definitely have to go online, find data on the strongest people on the planet, and compare their stats to mine.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

And what comes next? Is there a limit to this system? Can I step beyond that peak and enter the realm of the superhuman? Will I ever be tossing tanks like tennis balls or bringing down skyscrapers with a clap?

The thoughts alone made my temperature rise, a thrill running cold down my spine. I had to take a few deep breaths to return to reality. I caught myself standing in front of the mirror for a good five minutes with a stupid grin, admiring my abs. Good thing I rented the whole gym, otherwise someone would definitely take me for a complete narcissist.