Ian pulled two cans of beer from the ice bucket labeled “unlimited supply” and handed one to Jordan.
Jordan popped the tab, foam spraying over his hand: “This shitty beer.”
Ian’s gaze swept across the lawn.
Every person here was a walking progress bar.
He took a few steps forward.
Standing by the grill was a dark-haired girl, not very tall, using tongs to flip burgers on the rack.
The meat was already charred, its edges curling into a black crust, emitting acrid smoke.
“Is that beef or charcoal?” Ian walked over and stood beside her.
The girl glanced at him and smiled: “That depends on how optimistic you are.”
“I’m usually quite optimistic,” Ian took the burger she handed him, “until I take a bite.”
The girl laughed, fishing a bottle of water from a nearby box and tossing it to him: “Use this to rinse your mouth.”
Ian caught it, his fingers brushing against her knuckles.
“Ian.
Freshman.”
“Chloe.
Performance arts major.” The girl tapped the grill with her tongs, “Might shoot ads later, sell shampoo or something.”
“Your hair is indeed nice.”
“Thanks, it’s natural.” She scooped the burnt burger onto a paper plate, “My mom says girls shouldn’t be at the forefront, so she shoved me into performing arts.
Stand in front of a green screen later, smile at the camera, pretend to fight monsters.”
Someone nearby called Chloe’s name, asking her to help move the speakers.
Chloe responded,
“I’ll help you.” Ian stuffed the water bottle into his pocket.
They crouched down, each lifting one side.
Palms pressed against the rough plastic shell of the speaker, the back of Chloe’s hand occasionally brushed against Ian’s wrist.
Ian deliberately slowed his movements, maintaining contact, letting each shift last a few seconds longer.
“You’re stronger than you look.” Chloe placed the speaker in the designated spot.
“Maybe it’s the Asian buff.
Hidden depths, you know.” Ian straightened up, shaking his hand.
Chloe laughed and patted his shoulder: “Thanks, Ian.
I’ll buy you a real beer later, not this horse piss.”
She turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Ian stood still, the system panel at the edge of his vision silently pulsing:
[Chloe]
[Super Physique LV1 — Duplication Complete]
A faint warmth crawled from his palm into his arm, muscle fibers trembling slightly before settling.
LV1 physique, but every little bit counts.
“You’re quite busy.” Jordan had somehow wandered over, chewing on a grilled sausage,
“I’m just helpful.”
“Fuck, guess if I believe that.”
A wave of cheers erupted from the center of the lawn.
The crowd formed a circle, with people wrestling inside.
Ian and Jordan walked over.
Inside the circle, a Latina girl and a white guy were palm-to-palm, pushing against each other.
The girl wasn’t tall, but the muscles in her exposed arms and legs under her tank top and shorts were tight, sculpted like carved lines.
A white circle was drawn at her feet—the rule was that whoever was pushed out of the circle or had both feet leave the ground first would lose.
The white guy’s face flushed red, veins bulging on his forehead.
The girl, however, smiled, exerting force with one hand, twisting her wrist.
The guy staggered and was pushed out of the white circle, landing on the grass with a thud.
The crowd laughed, someone whistled.
“Who’s next?” The girl scanned the surroundings, sweat on her forehead but breathing steady, “Don’t let me warm up for nothing.”
Jordan nudged Ian with his elbow: “You go.”
Ian: “Me?” New chapters come out on novelping.com first.
“You seemed pretty strong moving that speaker earlier.”
Ian handed his beer can to Jordan and stepped into the circle.
The girl looked at him, raising an eyebrow.
“Want to give it a try?”
“Ian.
Freshman.” He extended his hand.
“Sophia.
Sophomore.” She shook his hand with her right.
“Simple rules.
Push me out of the circle, or make both my feet leave the ground.
Same goes for me.
Palms can’t separate.”
[Super Physique LV2]
[Strength Enhancement LV2]
“Choose Super Physique.” Ian made the choice in his mind, then crouched down, pressing his palm against hers.
She had calluses at the base of her fingers, like those from years of punching sandbags.
Sophia suddenly exerted force.
The strength far exceeded LV1, like a hydraulic press suddenly activating.
Ian’s LV2 Energy Blast was released subtly, his heels digging into the turf, his body unmoving, but his palm remained firmly pressed against hers, sliding back half a foot.
“Oh?” Sophia’s eyes lit up.
“Interesting.”
She increased the pressure.
Ian continued to retreat but kept their palms connected.
The two remained locked in a stalemate for several minutes, each step carving shallow grooves in the grass.
Their palms pressed together, elbows taut, like two bulls butting heads.
“You’re cheating.
What’s that light on your hand?” Sophia grinned.
“Maybe it’s just nerves from seeing you.” Ian forced the words through gritted teeth.
Sophia suddenly relaxed her force.
The moment Ian surged forward, she seized his wrist and executed a shoulder throw—but halfway through, she pulled back, gently dropping Ian onto the grass, blades of turf slipping down his neck.
Sophia crouched down and reached out to help him up.
Their palms touched again.
“Good reflexes.
Smooth talker.”
Ian used her pull to stand up, brushing grass off his pants.
“Thanks, senior.”
Sophia turned to accept other challenges.
Ian retreated to the edge of the crowd, looking down at his right hand.
In his vision, the panel refreshed:
[Sophia]
[Super Physique LV2—Duplication Complete]
A surge of heat ten times stronger than before exploded from his palm, rushing through his blood vessels toward his shoulders, chest, and thighs.
Muscle fibers felt as if pierced by countless fine needles, then rewoven.
Jordan walked over and shoved the beer back into his hand.
“You had quite the night.
Moving speakers, getting thrown on the grass, and all with girls.”
“Just making friends.”
“Two friends.” Jordan rolled his eyes.
“The third is me, okay?”
The two headed back to the dorm.
Behind them, the party continued, the music still vibrating in their chests from two hundred meters away.
Opening the dorm door.
Rufus, as expected, hadn’t returned.
Ian closed the door and locked it.
He took off his T-shirt and stood before the bathroom mirror.
The reflection showed slightly broader shoulders, the contours of his chest and abs visible beneath his skin, tight and streamlined.
He lifted his arm, his bicep forming a clear curve as he flexed.
In the corner of his vision, the system panel hovered quietly:
Super Physique LV1 (Shockwave)
-Solidified
Super Physique LV1 (Chloe)
-Solidified
Super Physique LV2 (Sophia) – Solidified
Same-type abilities merged.
Current level: LV2
Ian looked at the system prompt.
Even though they merged, the level hadn’t changed.
Still LV2.
“Seems even within the same level, there are differences in strength.”
Shockwave’s Level 1 was the lowest tier, only a step above ordinary humans.
Chloe’s Level 1 was slightly better.
Sophia’s Level 2 was at a stable stage, honed through systematic training.
Now, with the fusion of all three, his own Level 2 should stand at the upper-middle range among peers of the same level.
But this was only the first night.
He put on a T-shirt and lay down on the bed.
His phone vibrated.
Jordan sent a photo: on the lawn, the moment Ian was thrown down by Sophia, his expression twisted.
Ian stared at the photo, his thumb hovering above the screen.
Godolkin.
Hundreds of young Supes, their minds filled with thoughts of showing off, socializing, proving themselves.
They reached out first, clinked glasses first, shook hands first, wrestled first.
Every contact was an opportunity.
Every party was a hunting ground.
Strike.
He didn’t need to gamble with his life like he did against Shockwave.
He didn’t need to hide in a room like he did with Rufus.
All he needed was to smile, chat, brush a finger, shake a hand—and the progress bar would fill itself.
He turned off the light.
In the darkness, the system panel glowed faintly at the edge of his vision.
He glanced at his current status:
[Shockwave LV2]
[Mind Control LV3]
[Super Physique LV2 (Fusion Enhanced)]
Not enough.
Far from enough.
Godolkin was just the starting point.
He closed his eyes.