The razor on the sink was Don Quixote’s — old, crusty, with yellow scale and rust on the blade.
The kind of guy who turned long sleeves into short sleeves and short sleeves into underwear wasn’t about to waste money on fresh blades.
Even a half-rusted blade could still slice skin and draw blood.
Levi picked it up, popped the blade out, and dragged it lightly across his forearm.
The resistance felt strange.
Like the blade was trying to cut through something tougher than human flesh — steel cable, maybe.
He started gentle, then pressed harder.
All he got were faint white lines.
No blood.
No real damage.
He could tell this was the limit.
Sharper blade, more force, and yeah — it would probably break skin.
But not by much.
“Bronze grade body,” Levi muttered, remembering some old fantasy novels.
“Wonder if there’s Silver or Gold after this.”
He turned to leave and accidentally knocked the razor and toothbrush off the counter.
His hand moved before his brain even registered it.
One hand caught the razor.
The other snatched the toothbrush mid-fall.
“So this is what 1.4 Agility and 1.5 Spirit feels like,” he said, staring at the two items in his hands.
His reaction speed had jumped hard.
He snapped the blade back into the razor and headed to bed, already looking forward to the gym tomorrow.
…
Don Quixote left early the next morning, looking stressed.
Levi shifted his boutique shift to the afternoon and texted Michael.
They were hitting the gym together.
Around 10:15, Levi finished his studying and walked into the gym.
It was way more packed than usual.
The front desk was empty.
Michael stood on the edge of a crowd, trying to see what was happening in the middle.
Levi tapped his shoulder.
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, hey Levi.
They’re running a bench press contest,” Michael said, turning around.
“Cash and protein powder on the line.”
Levi looked toward the power rack area.
A massive Black guy, easily over 110 kilos with arms thicker than Levi’s thighs, was loading up 160 kilos.
“Five hundred bucks plus a tub of hydrolyzed whey,” Michael said, eyes full of envy.
“Those guys are built different.
I wonder if you can even get close without gear.”
“Probably not,” Levi said casually.
“I heard them trading steroid protocols last time.”
Michael nodded.
“Yeah, I’m trying to be a doctor, not a bodybuilder.
Oh — see that guy up front?” He pointed at a huge young Black guy.
“That’s Manu.
Franklin’s starting defensive tackle.
He’s about to go.”
Levi watched as the guy — built like a silverback gorilla with a face that looked way too old for high school — stepped up to the bench.
“Number 14, Manu!”
Manu roared, let his boys slap his back, and got under 165 kilos.
“165!
Clean lift!
Manu takes first place!”
The crowd exploded.
Manu grinned like he’d already signed with the NFL.
“Manu, you could go D1 easy,” one of his boys said, hugging him.
“Where you thinking?”
“Ohio State, baby.
Best program in the country.
Few good years and who knows — maybe the League.”
Levi watched Manu soak in the cheers, then turned to the front desk guy.
“Can I still sign up?
I want that five hundred.”
He wasn’t just showing off.
He actually wanted the money and the protein.
More than that, he was pretty sure he could beat 165.
The front desk guy looked at him like he was a malnourished chicken.
“You can sign up… but what’s the point?
You think you’re pushing 165?”
A Latino guy with a thick beard heard them and laughed loud.
“Look who wants to challenge Manu!
This ain’t a math contest, Bruce Lee.
You in the wrong spot?”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“Hey, fuck off,” the front desk guy snapped at the Latino, then looked back at Levi.
“Listen, man.
That killed whatever low-key plan Levi had.
“Sign me up,” he said with a shrug.
“165 gets you first place in this gym?
I thought I walked into the women’s section.”
The crowd lost it.
The bearded Latino looked ready to jump him until his boys held him back.
Right on cue, the system popped up.
[Quest Received: Duel!]
[A knight’s dignity will not tolerate mockery or insult.
A true knight defeats his enemy on their own battlefield — for honor.]
[Reward: Strength +0.1]
“Everybody shut the fuck up!”
The front desk guy’s shout cut through the noise.
He gave Levi a tired look.
“Alright, man.
If you’re dead set on this… Number 15!
Levi!”
“Levi, you sure about this?” Michael asked quietly.
“Last time you only hit 110.”
Levi handed him his giant water bottle.
“Fill this up for me.
Thanks.
I’m taking it home.”
He walked up to the bench like it was nothing, eyeing the 165-kilo bar Manu had just finished.
“How much you adding?” the judge asked.
“If you match 165, your lower bodyweight still wins it.”
Levi scanned the crowd, stopped on the bearded Latino, and smiled.
“Hey, beard guy,” he said.
“If I hit 220, you running outside naked?”
The Latino barked a laugh.
“Little monkey, you hit 220 and I’ll run out there butt-ass naked and jerk off while I do it!”
He pointed at Levi.
“But if you don’t hit it, you run out there naked yelling ‘I’m gay.’ We got a deal?”
Levi looked around at the suddenly quiet crowd, then back at the judge.
“You all heard that,” he said.
“Load it to 240.
And get your phones ready — somebody’s about to go viral on TikTok.”