After I closed the dictionary, hundreds of new words were still swirling in my head like a disturbed swarm of bees. Spanish, which had always seemed like an impregnable fortress to me, suddenly began to yield. I felt an incredible surge of euphoria, something akin to an electric discharge coursing through my entire body. Opportunities that once seemed unreachable were now literally resting in the palm of my hand.
I had never been good with foreign languages. At school, every lesson turned into torture: I had to hammer grammar rules and word lists into my head just to get a mediocre grade. At some point, exhausted by this hopeless struggle, I listened to my teachers and focused on subjects that came more easily to me. The dream of becoming a polyglot was buried under a pile of math and economics textbooks. And now, in just two hours, I had mastered almost all the words in the dictionary under the letter “A”. My head buzzed unpleasantly, my temples throbbed, but the excitement inside drowned out any pain. If the system allows learning languages this quickly, then what is stopping me from going further? Why limit myself to just a military career? With a tool like this, I could become a PhD in any field I wanted.
My thoughts raged, giving me no peace. My skull felt like a boiling cauldron. Despite the deep night, sleep would not come. On the contrary, I felt nauseous from the mental strain, and colored spots floated before my eyes. A month ago, I would have suffered: I would have taken a painkiller and tossed in the dark until dawn, cursing my insomnia. But now I had other methods.
[Special Command: Fall Asleep Instantly]
[Warning! Recovery Mode Activated]
[Trainer Presence Optimizes Sleep Cycles]
[Recovery Efficiency: +200%]
[Warning! Special Commands: 0/3]
Wow, now that was unexpected. It was the first time I had managed to burn through the entire limit. Morning training, an evening Spanish marathon, and now forced sleep, my daily reserve was completely drained. On top of that, I had already figured out through experience that these commands do not recover gradually on some kind of timer. They only return in full after genuinely high-quality, deep sleep. Looks like I need to be more careful and always keep at least one charge in reserve for an emergency shutdown like this.
The moment that thought fully formed, darkness, thick and velvety, swallowed my headache, my nausea, and my very identity. I dropped into oblivion instantly.
Morning greeted me with perfect silence and a feeling of absolute freshness. No negative consequences from yesterday’s knowledge assault. It was pure bliss to feel completely renewed. For a moment, I recalled my college years, those awful nights when I drank too much, barely crawled into bed, and then woke up feeling like a truck had run over my head. After those “fun” evenings, it took another full day to recover. Maybe I should start drinking again? No, that was a bad joke. Even back then alcohol brought me little pleasure, and now, when something much bigger is at stake, wasting time on such nonsense would be a crime.
I glanced at the wall clock and nearly jumped out of my skin.
[10:14]
How?! I always woke up exactly after eight hours, the Trainer never failed. And now, a full ten hours of uninterrupted sleep!
I quickly turned on the computer and opened my precious Excel file, where I meticulously recorded all observations about the system. The numbers did not lie. My analytics formed a clear, though not very pleasant, picture: the first time, six hours were enough for full recovery. After I used hyperfocus, sleep increased to eight hours. And now, after activating it twice in one day, the cost had risen to ten hours.
So that is the price of progress. Every use of hyperfocus is paid for with accumulated fatigue and two additional hours of sleep. Not exactly pleasant, but entirely manageable. Considering how fast I was advancing, it was more than a fair trade. Especially since I was in no rush: no job, no burning deadlines, and for the money I paid them, the instructors would welcome me with open arms at any time of day.
The invigorating smell of breakfast greeted me in the kitchen.
"¡Hola, mamá!" I called out cheerfully as I entered the room.
Mom froze with a ladle in her hand and raised her eyebrows in surprise while serving me a portion of tuna with chicken.
"What got into you today, amigo?" there was a hint of irony in her voice.
"Nothing special, just decided it is time to get serious about Spanish," I smiled broadly and sat down at the table. "Danny said it is a very useful skill in the current reality."
"Are matadors preparing to attack our country?" Mom snorted skeptically, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.
"I asked him the same question," I poured myself a full glass of milk, enjoying its coolness. "But Danny insists it is necessary for communication with allies. Looks like my childhood dream is finally coming true, I am going to start traveling. At the very least, across Latin America."
Mom paused for a moment, turning away from the stove, and looked at me seriously.
"So now you are supposed not only to run around training grounds, but also cram textbooks?" she shook her head disapprovingly. "Our army is demanding too much from you. Are they at least going to pay you extra for this? For the additional strain on your brain?"
"Honestly, I have no idea," I admitted, putting the first piece of tuna into my mouth. "But that is a great question. I will definitely clarify it at the next meeting."
"Then invite him to our house," Mom oddly, almost predatory, ran her hand over her notebook, where she usually wrote down recipes or to-do lists. "I have a couple of questions for your supervisor as well."
I genuinely felt sorry for the guy. Mom had a talent for conducting intense interrogations disguised as polite conversation. I decided to myself that I would only invite Danny in the most extreme case. He had just started to grow on me, and the last thing I wanted was to watch that beach boy slowly die under my mother's hospitality.
After breakfast, I headed to the gym. It was already almost noon, two hours later than my usual schedule. Office workers and students had not yet flooded the machines, and the housewives who usually occupied the gym at nine in the morning had already scattered to their errands.
I stood in the center of the hall, took a deep breath, tuning myself to the right mindset, and activated the command.
[Special Command: Train All Muscle Groups with Maximum Efficiency]
The world around me instantly narrowed down to the grips of machines and the weight plates on the barbell. The surrounding reality lost its sharpness, turning into a blurred background. Time seemed to jump: I did not feel pain in my muscles, did not notice sweat running down my back, I simply fast-forwarded through several hours of exhausting work, immediately arriving at the final point. My body hummed with overflowing strength, every muscle filled with lead, yet it was a pleasant heaviness.
System message windows began to appear before my eyes one after another:
[Strength +1]
[Agility +1]
[Endurance +1]
And then, right after that, something new flared up, making my heart skip a beat:
[Your Familiar is Growing]
[Trainer Level Increased!]
[Special Command +1!]
I froze, staring at the last line. Now there would be four. My potential had grown again, and the boundaries of what I considered possible had once more been pushed further away.
The increase came at just the right time, my resources were melting away before my eyes, and the additional command slot felt like finding a twenty in the pocket of an old jacket. Though, to be honest, I was not mentally ready yet to take on studying a third subject. If two uses of hyperfocus cost me ten hours of sleep, what would happen next? Twelve, maybe even fourteen hours a day spent sleeping, spending most of my life in bed? No, better to hold off for now. Still, the very fact that I received a "charge" for each Trainer level warmed my soul. Of course, I wanted more, some kind of global boost or passive bonus, but the system seemed to prefer handing out rewards in portions.
Still, it did not leave me without dessert. A new notification appeared before my eyes, sending a chill of anticipation down my spine.
[New Skill Acquired: Tactical Mode]
[Tactical Mode: allows the Trainer to accelerate consciousness tenfold for one second to assess the situation. Activates automatically in case of immediate danger to the Trainer or the Familiar]
I froze, rereading the description. So what was this, something like slow motion or a pause in a computer game? One second stretched ten times... In the middle of a fight or during an accident, this could become the deciding factor between life and death. Intriguing was an understatement. I wanted to test the new ability right there among the barbells and plates, but caution won. This was clearly not the right place, and putting myself in immediate danger just for a test did not sound appealing.
When the veil of the system trance finally lifted and I returned to reality, the world around me suddenly regained its sharpness and... its crowd. The gym, which had seemed almost empty just recently, was now half full. The clock read thirteen forty-nine. The peak of the lunch break: the time of office clerks trying to burn off their business lunches and students freed from classes.
I walked up to the mirror to evaluate the result of the workout. My muscles were pumped, the definition had sharpened, veins clearly stood out beneath the skin, the result was obvious, and it was impressive in its speed. But the moment I lingered on my reflection, I felt other people's views on my skin. People around me, sweaty, breathing heavily, ordinary, kept glancing in my direction. It made me deeply uncomfortable. I had never liked crowds.
I quickly retreated to the locker room. After taking a quick shower and changing, I was about to head out for some fresh air when some guy blocked my path.
He was tall, with skin the color of overcooked toast and muscles so sharply defined they looked painted on. A real bodybuilder, not just some amateur hoping to lose his belly by summer.
"Hey there, friend!" he flashed a dazzling, almost unsettlingly white smile. "I am Alex."
"Hey, Alex," I forced out. This guy’s smile made me instinctively want to check if my wallet was still in place. He looked like a classic salesman, the kind who was about to push a super-powered vacuum cleaner or meteor impact insurance on me. "What do you want, Alex?"
"Come on, do not be so gloomy, friend," he kept grinning, ignoring my tone. "We could grab a bite together, get to know each other better. My treat!"
"Why would we?" I narrowed my eyes, feeling irritation building inside. "Man, I have never seen you before. What do you want from me?"
Alex’s smile did not falter, but his eyes darted around. He glanced over his shoulder, checking if anyone else had entered the locker room. Once he confirmed we were alone, he leaned in closer.
"Come on, friend, do not play hard to get," he whispered. "I saw your session today. You worked like a man possessed, no breaks at all. I was shouting, waving at you, and you acted like you were deaf, completely unaware of anything around you. So... what are you on? What steroids?"
I froze with a stone expression, but inside everything flared with heat. Damn. I had been spotted. I felt like a first grader caught with stolen candy falling out of his pocket. I knew it, I knew I should not have come here during peak hours! My efficiency looked abnormal from the outside, at the very least.
A thought flashed through my mind: maybe I should call Danny. Let him explain the rules of polite conversation to this meathead. But I immediately dismissed the idea. That would be childish, running to call in a “big brother” the moment something went wrong. I was an adult and had to handle my own problems. Besides, Alex did not seem aggressive, just curious.
"Listen, friend, I get why you are keeping quiet," Alex interpreted my silence his own way. "Steroids are a slippery subject, illegal stuff and all that."
He pulled out his wallet and, for some reason, showed me his driver’s license as if it were an FBI badge.
"Look, I am not a cop, I swear. I just want my muscles to grow just as fast, you get it? If you have access to quality product, I am ready to pay. We will agree on the price, I will not shortchange you."
"I will think about it," I said as dryly as possible and moved past him toward the exit.
"Same time tomorrow, right here!" he called after me, clearly pleased he had not received a flat refusal.
Yeah, no, I thought as I stepped outside and greedily inhaled the cool air. You will not see me here tomorrow.
I firmly decided to change gyms. The problem was not Alex, I could have just told him to get lost. The problem was that I had become noticeable. The questions would multiply, the stares would grow heavier. Some people said life would be boring without problems, but I wanted nothing to do with that kind of “entertainment.” On the other hand, nothing catastrophic had happened. I just needed to find a new place, preferably one where the only living souls were spiders in the corners. That meant new expenses, and my wallet was already getting thinner by the day. The paycheck from my old job still had not arrived, and that was starting to seriously bother me.
I spent the second half of the day at the shooting range. Things went much better there. In just a few hours, I completely mastered the assault rifle handling course. The system worked flawlessly.
Before the session, I had decided to run a small experiment: I watched several high-quality training videos online on my own. And what do you think? When I picked up the weapon, even before Mr. Parker opened his mouth, I already knew how to stand properly, how to seat the stock against my shoulder, and how to squeeze the trigger smoothly.
The system did not care where the knowledge came from, whether from an expensive private lesson or a free video on YouTube. It simply took the correct movement patterns and guided my body into the perfect position. In a way, Parker’s lessons were no longer necessary. I felt a bit sorry for the money spent on him, but I comforted myself with the fact that I was paying for an official certificate. At the recruitment office, that kind of document carried weight, while internet videos could not be attached to any formal record.
I returned home in the evening, expecting a quiet dinner and some rest. But the moment I crossed the threshold, my good mood evaporated. Mom was not alone. Sitting next to her with a cup of tea in hand was that same neighbor.
I froze in the doorway. What the hell did she want from me?
Author note:
Quick heads-up: There won't be a new chapter tomorrow, but don't worry, I’m not dropping the story! I'll be back the day after tomorrow, and we’ll stick to the usual schedule from then on. Thanks for staying with me!