"Now this is life, Houston," I said, sinking deeper into the makeshift hot spring bath I'd built in my cozy cave.

The water, naturally heated by geothermal vents I uncovered nearby, laps against my shoulders. The air inside is warm but not stifling, and the occasional breeze flows in through the window-like holes I carved into the stone walls. Through them, the view is nothing short of breathtaking.

Outside, the landscape stretches endlessly, a lush tapestry of vibrant greens and shimmering blues.

The waterfall thunders nearby, its mist catching the light to form faint rainbows. Rivers weave their way through the valley below, bordered by fruit-laden trees swaying gently in the wind. From this height, the cliffs offer a panoramic view of the Emerald Cascade Isles—a term I coined myself—glowing coral reefs near the shoreline, misty canopies rising from distant waterfalls, and serene lakes reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.

The sound of water, both from the waterfall and the gentle bubbling of the spring, fills the cave. It's tranquil. It's perfect.

I lean back, letting the warmth seep into my tired muscles. "You can't tell me this isn't genius."

"Genius? You?" Houston retorts, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You stumbled across the idea of looking for a thermal vent while I was explaining the importance of detecting temperature and humidity gradients using your EM waves. And this?" His exasperation grew. "So many hours of potential training—wasted!"

"Calm down, Houston," I say with a grin, my gaze shifting to the perfectly carved-out hole framing the breathtaking view outside. "Relax. Just enjoy the view."

"How I wish a giant octopus would just come out of nowhere and crush this little setting of yours to pieces," Houston mutters dryly.

"Damn, chill, old man," I reply, smiling with a chuckle. "This isn't wasted time—it's good for training, right? You know, muscles grow while resting and all that. Besides, after three days of pushing hard, might as well take a small break and do something relaxing. The current stats are pretty good, and the improvement has slowed anyway. Those final percentages are tricky, you know."

"Notable improvement? It's amazing how after so much training, so much stage progress, and so much of me working my butt off with Phase 2 and 3, your footwork is still barely over 80% of Siddharth's. And you call that progress?" Houston's tone drips with exasperation.

"Well, that's according to whatever metric you're using, Houston, not mine," I reply, grinning. "Put me against Siddharth again, and with all due respect, the fight would finish in a jiffy, even on equal stage progress."

"Oh, seriously?" Houston shoots back. "What if I take away Overdrive, and you're both under equal terms of equipment?"

"Well…" I lean back, smirking. "Overdrive is intrinsically mine. Taking that away would be like taking an arm off. I don't think it's fair. Each of us has our own style, and I have mine. Might as well get used to that and stop obsessing over Siddharth in your metrics. Honestly, with how fixated you are on him, I'm starting to wonder if you two would've made an excellent couple."

"You are incorrigible," Houston sighs. "Anyway, while you were 'busy' building your spa, I started analyzing some data and got bad news for you."

Huh? I'm slightly taken aback. Bad news? A new boss? No, that would be good news, not bad. And it's still more than a day from now, according to—

"It's about Overdrive," Houston says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Overdrive? No, wait… you're seriously not bringing up the addiction thing again, are you? I—"

"Calm down and let me finish. Gosh, speaking with you really gets on my nerves."

"Well, I'm all you've got, my friend."

"Unfortunately," Houston mutters. "Anyway, the issue isn't critical yet, but it's going to be as time goes on. So, where do I start?" He pauses, making me raise an eyebrow. "You know how stage progress relates to your mind and body evolution, right? Since I don't have accurate data on your human baseline, let's use the you from 1% stage progress as a reference."

I nod, intrigued. "Alright, go on."

"Well, the current you is far stronger in every sense than back then. But by how much? According to my analysis, the body improves at a much slower rate than the mind. For example, you're about 62% heavier now than back then, standing at 152 kg, and your strength has increased proportionally. Your linear speed has also improved by a similar margin. But reflexes? They're much better, yes, but definitely not 5.6 times higher than before. Not even close. While those factors scale slower, guess what doesn't? The mind."

Houston's tone sharpens as he continues. "Your mind scales almost linearly with stage progress. According to my data, your mind operates roughly five times faster than it did at 1% stage progress. Now, do you see where I'm going with this?"

My eyes widen for a moment. Interesting. "I think I get it. You're saying that because of the mismatch in mind and body progress, my mind will soon tolerate higher levels of Overdrive, but my body won't be able to keep up, limiting my overall progress?"

"Exactly," Houston says with a note of satisfaction. "And while I initially estimated this issue wouldn't arise until you hit 8–9%, two factors are accelerating it—your mask and your gauntlets. The mask amplifies your waves beyond what they should naturally be, and the gauntlets enhance the acceleration of your arms."

"So you're saying I'm moving too fast? Or more specifically, my arms are moving too fast for my muscles and bones to handle?" I ask.

"Yes, exactly," Houston replies, his tone sharp. "Your strikes are reaching speeds where the kinetic forces are exceeding what your muscles and tendons can safely manage, even with your enhanced body. They're stretching and contracting at a rate that risks microtears and eventual degradation. And the recoil from one of your full-force punches? It's already approaching levels that could fracture or even shatter your bones under repeated stress. Sure, your body's accelerated healing compensates now, but this kind of strain will only get worse as you keep improving."

"Damn. A victim of your own success, huh," I shake my head. "And is there something we could do? Like strengthening the body manually, you know, the old-fashioned way?"

"Oh, wonderful that you said it yourself," Houston chuckles. "I just added an extra stat to your status screen to track it and scheduled 3 hours of daily targeted physical exercise on your calendar. Let's see how it goes. Wish you the best."

I stare blankly, my mouth slightly open as Houston's last words echo in my mind. Slowly, I close it, shaking my head. "Shit."

Leaning back, I pull up my status screen with a sigh, savoring what little time I have left of this precious break. Hard times are coming.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Status Screen

Stage 1 - 5.661%

Wave control

Personal Output:

2.94 SU

Assisted Bonus (at 76% Merging Rate):

1.28 SU

Bonus from Helmet

: 35%

Total Output:

5.70 SU

Magnetization Efficiency:

91%

Overdrive

Max Output:

85%

Physical Combat

Swordsmanship:

0.86 SU

Footwork:

0.81 SU

Wave/Body Synchronization:

88%

Physical Condition (using 1% as 1.000 reference):

1.623

Notable Equipment

Sword:

Indestructible(?) Weight increases with stage progress. EM conductivity (1.0)

King Lobster Gauntlets:

Indestructible(?) Weight increases with stage progress. EM conductivity (2.0)

Even though four days had passed since then, Chiara was still amazed every time she saw Ayu fight. She couldn't quite wrap her head around how Ayu had transformed so much in such a short time. Sure, she'd just survived a life-and-death situation, but… where was the logic in this sudden leap?

It reminded her, unsettlingly, of the other anomaly—God knows where he was now. Alonso. It had been the same with him. She still remembered sparring with him once, barely giving it much thought, and then, two days later, he defeated Siddharth in a fair duel. With all due respect to Alonso and all he had endured, what kind of nonsense was that?

It felt like something ripped straight out of a cheesy fantasy novel.

Chiara sighed, shaking her head. Was this jealousy she was feeling?

She cursed herself for being so pathetic. Whatever they had, good for them. Maybe it was, as Lukas had casually suggested the other day, anomalies occurring during the evolution process. That explanation seemed plausible. But if this entire stage system was designed by a species so advanced they were practically gods, how could they allow for… wait. Wait a second. Unless…

"Hey, Chiara! That was my last one," Ayu called out from afar as the mass of slime crumbled to the ground and dissipated. "Do you need some help with yours?"

Chiara blinked, her train of thought derailed as she looked at Ayu. "Uh… no, it's fine. Go back and rest. I'll keep going a bit longer today. Don't want to fall too far behind."

"Rest?" Ayu chuckled. "I was actually thinking of giving the new area a try. It looked nice from afar. Maybe we can create an advanced camp there."

"Okay…" Chiara replied absentmindedly, then suddenly realized. "Wait, Ayu? You're going to the new zone alone? We should do a group expedition first to identify the threats and—"

"It's fine. Whatever's there," Ayu grinned, her confidence almost maddening. "I'll see it coming."

She chuckled lightly and turned, heading off without another word.

Chiara stared after her, feeling a mix of awe and exasperation.

Her gaze dropped to the sword in her hand, the weight of it suddenly feeling heavier. Could she get an upgrade like them too? Inducing a mutation during evolution—was that even something that could be forced?

Well… the common factor between them both… hmm. They were under immense pressure, their lives hanging by a thread. And they are both incredibly stubborn, unyielding, and strong-willed.

Should she… put her life on the line too? Could she force a mutation out of herself?

I mean, I'm strong-willed too, aren't I? Maybe all I need is a push?

"Come on, Chiara, ground yourself," she muttered, gripping her sword tighter. If it happens, it happens. If not, so be it. I'll grow stronger regardless.

She inhaled deeply, tuning into the waves around her. With a subtle shift in her perception, she sensed the incoming updates in the neural network she had meticulously crafted.

The subtle distortions in the field gave her a rough map of the surrounding area, pinpointing the positions of her allies and analyzing where the Kelpies could be.

The swamp stretched out before her as she ran, a landscape of murky water and gnarled trees with twisted roots emerging like skeletal fingers from the mud. The air was thick and heavy, a blend of rot and damp earth that clung to her senses. Ghostly tendrils of mist swirled low to the ground, shrouding everything in an eerie, dreamlike haze. Chiara's boots splashed softly through shallow pools, the water dark and opaque.

The Kelpies thrived here, blending seamlessly into the swamp's deceptive stillness. Her mind worked rapidly as she refined the algorithms she used to track them. Their ability to fool senses was formidable—optical, auditory, even EM-based detection—but nothing was truly foolproof.

She focused, her EM waves sweeping the area like sonar, searching for inconsistencies in the environment. There it was—a faint ripple in the pattern, a distortion that didn't belong. She adjusted her approach, layering her waves with a counter-frequency to filter out distractions.

Suddenly, the swamp seemed to shift. The mist thickened, and the trees bent unnaturally, forming what appeared to be an inviting path ahead. Flowers bloomed in vibrant colors along the trail, their fragrance unnaturally sweet. The sound of flowing water reached her ears, melodic and soothing. It was beautiful, serene—too serene.

Chiara slowed her pace, her sharp mind piecing it together. An illusion. The Kelpies were close, and they had constructed a trap.

"Nice try," she muttered, her tone wry. She didn't let her guard down, though. Their illusions were layered, designed to disorient and mislead, and this was only the surface.

She adjusted her EM waves again, shifting their amplitude and frequency in a complex sequence to pierce deeper. The idyllic path flickered, the illusion shimmering like a mirage under the midday sun. Beyond it, she caught glimpses of the truth—a twisted, muddy path leading to a cluster of thick roots and waterlogged ground. She grinned. There you are.

Chiara cloaked herself in a veil of EM interference, bending the waves around her to make her presence nearly undetectable. It wasn't invisibility, but to anything relying on electromagnetic senses, she would all but disappear. She moved swiftly and silently, her mind calculating the best approach.

As she got closer, the Kelpie finally came into view—a formless, amorphous mass of dark, translucent slime partially submerged in the swamp water. Its faintly glowing core floated within, pulsating rhythmically like a heartbeat.

Its surface rippled and shifted constantly, catching light in an unnatural way, creating an illusion of movement that was both mesmerizing and unsettling.

Chiara narrowed her eyes, her strategy forming in milliseconds. She sent a brief EM pulse, baiting a reaction, and the Kelpie's head snapped in her direction. Its illusion shifted again, turning the landscape into a chaotic flurry of jagged rocks and swirling mist.

Chiara didn't flinch. Her countermeasures adapted instantly, her waves creating an inverse pattern to stabilize her view. She lunged forward, her movements fluid and precise, her sword cutting through the air toward its vulnerable side.

The Kelpie reacted with startling speed, its form darting to the side with unnatural agility. But Chiara was already recalibrating, anticipating its move. Her mind worked like a machine, calculating trajectories, compensating for its speed, and finding openings in its defenses.

The creature lunged, its slimy appendages lashing out like whips, aiming to engulf her. Chiara sidestepped, her feet skimming over the swamp's uneven terrain as her sword sliced cleanly through one of the tendrils. The severed slime splattered across her arm and face, cold and viscous. She cursed under her breath but kept moving.

The Kelpie shifted again, its core pulsating faster, retreating deeper into the water as if to draw her in. Chiara paused, her eyes narrowing. It was a trap—she could feel it. The creature was trying to lure her into the murky depths where her footing would falter, and it could overwhelm her.

"Nice try," she muttered, sending out a sharp burst of EM waves. The vibrations cut through the water, bouncing back to reveal the Kelpie's exact position. Its core was faintly visible, swirling at the center of its shifting mass. That's where it was most vulnerable.

Chiara lunged again, her movements calculated and deliberate. She ducked under another flailing tendril, her sword slicing through the air toward the glowing core. The Kelpie reared back, its form contorting to dodge, but Chiara's blade was faster. With a precise thrust, she drove her sword straight into the center of its core.

The creature let out an unearthly screech, its slime convulsing violently. A torrent of black, viscous liquid splashed over her as the Kelpie's form collapsed into the swamp water, dissolving into harmless muck. Chiara stumbled back, soaked and dripping, her hair plastered to her face.

"Fantastic," she muttered, her lips pressing into a thin line.

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