Price of Survival

That night, Maro sat hunched over his desk, surrounded by a fortress of textbooks and worksheets. 

The dim light from his desk lamp illuminated his text book. 

The room was silent, theonly sound being the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall and Maro furiously scribbling answers in his textbook. 

He flipped between dense math problems and complicated science equations, hours of focus heavy on his mind, and heavy on his tired eyes. 

Each passing minute felt like an eternity, but he couldn't stop. Not when the system acted as such a powerful incentive.

[Intelligence +1]

[Intelligence +1]

[Intelligence +1]

Maro rubbed his burning eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips despite his exhaustion. 

Four hours of relentless study had only netted him three intelligence points. 

It wasn't as much as he had hoped, but he knew why. 

The system didn't reward simply going through the motions of schoolwork. It wanted genuine growth, not just the repetition of what he already knew. 

Unfortunately, he had wasted a whole hour without progress , all whilst he went over content he had already learned but wanted to refine.

Still, he had showed progress after he cracked it. Slow, grueling progress.

At around 2 am, Maro's brain finally reached its limit. 

He slumped into bed, his body aching from the mental and physical strain. His eyelids heavy like the dumbells he lifted earlier that day.

As he fell into deep sleep, the last thing he registered was the soft glow of the interface's timer fading into the darkness.

The alarm shrieked, shattering the delicate stillness of dawn. 

Maro groaned, blindly slapping at his phone until it fell silent. 

He blinked blearily at the clock—5:30 a.m. 

Barely three hours of sleep. 

His body begged for more rest, but his mind wouldn't allow it. He had a quest to complete. He owed it to himself to see it through, ever since he had promised to change.

By 6:00 a.m., Maro stood beneath the dim lights of the underground gym once more, the familiar scent of sweat and iron filling the air. 

Ted, the old man who had helped him the day prior, was nowhere to be seen. 

That was fine by Maro. He wasn't in the mood for conversation.

He grabbed a set of weights, focusing on making sure his form was perfect just as Ted had taught him. 

His muscles screamed in protest, but he drowned out the discomfort, his mind zeroed in on the numbers he craved.

[Strength +1]

[Strength +1]

Maro activated his skill, Valor, feeling the familiar surge of energy course through his veins. 

The first time he had used it was during that night—the night he fought off his attacker. It had been raw, instinctual. But now, he was learning to control it, to channel that power into something greater. 

He knew it wasn't just about brute strength; Valor represented something deeper. 

Willpower. The will to survive, to grow, to overcome. 

He had learned that Will could affect health, that one could die if they had not the will to survive, or live for a while if they were ill and had the will to support it.

So he activated his skill whilst exercising hoping it would spurn an increase in his vitality stat. He figured it made sense somehow, since he had seen his vitality grow only whilst Valor was active. 

Often, after the skill exhausted itself, Maro felt fatigued, it was though he were light as a feather one moment, and heavy as a ton of bricks the next. 

Though still he trudged on.

[Strength +1]

[Endurance +1]

[Stats upgraded due to skill: Valor!]

[Vit +1]

His arms felt like jelly, but satisfaction coursed through him like a second wind. He pushed through the fatigue, his body crying for rest.

Immediately after strength training he switched to endurance and agility training. 

Maro hit the treadmill again, just like the day before. Interval sprints, long-distance jogs—there was no room for rest. His legs moved in a blur beneath him, always steady, either in a steady sprint or a steady jog.

His breath pounding in time with his racing heartbeat.

[Endurance +1]

[Agility +1]

[Agility +1]

Maro sprinted until his vision blurred, his muscles trembling, each step feeling heavier than the last. 

If anyone was privy to the young boy's training, they'd have probably intercepted, seeing Maro as an amateur who was in far over his head.

It was downright masochistic, It was agony, and it was stupid, but to him, it felt like progress.

[Agility +1]

[Valor exhausted. Stats returning to default.]

And then, just like that, the surge of energy faded.

But then, something new.

[Skill upgraded! Valor, Lvl 2.]

[Stats upgraded due to skill: Valor!]

[Vit +2]

A smile tugged at the corners of Maro's lips. He had earned that right.

By 11am, Maro found himself back at home, devouring a sandwich as his mind thought about everything he'd achieved so far. 

His body ached in protest with every movement, but the pain was nothing compared to the satisfaction of his improvement.

But then his father appeared in the kitchen doorway, his face lined with a mix of concern and frustration. 

"Maro," his voice was steady, but the undercurrent of anger was unmistakable. "We need to talk."

Maro glanced up, mid-bite, swallowing the lump of food in his mouth. "About what?"

His father's gaze hardened. "You left the house early this morning. Didn't tell me where you were going. Where were you?"

It wasn't a question, not really. A question implied you had the choice to answer or stay silent. Mr Dumont gave no room for such a train of thought. Sick he may be, but he possessed a stubborness that Maro could only hope to emulate.

Maro set the sandwich down with a sigh, the inevitable conversation hanging over him. He hadn't wanted to explain himself from fear of sounding childish. 

"I went to the gym.", he responded in a clip manner. 

"The gym?" His father's hand tightened on his cane, his brows knitting together in frustration. "That's not like you, Maro. What are you actually up to? I know....you've been acting different ever since... since that night."

Maro flinched. That night. The gunshot. The cold pavement. His blood pooling around him. It still haunted him in the quiet moments. Not many could say they died and came back to life.

He could see it in his father's eyes, too. They hadn't really talked about it—not properly.

"I had to do something, Dad," Maro said, his voice low. "I needed to make a change. The bullies at school, the muggers in the streets… I don't want to be that weak again. I can't... I can't let what happened to me happen again. I don't want to be that weak anymore. I'm just so..."

His father's expression softened, the anger dissipating into something more fragile. Concern, maybe. "Son, you're not weak," he said softly. "But this... this obsession. It worries me. I'm all for you going to the gym, but I don't want you to live in fear."

"It's not an obsession." Maro met his father's gaze, his voice firmer now. "I just don't want to be helpless anymore."

A long silence stretched between them before his father sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just be careful, Maro. Whatever this is... don't lose yourself to it. Don't let it get to your head."

"I won't." Maro's voice was quiet but resolute. "I promise."

After finishing his meal, Maro bolted out the door, the awkward atmosphere permeating between father and son acting as suitable motivation.

He jogged to Gotham's public library, thankfully it was close to where Maro lived. 

In all but minutes, Maro had his head buried in a book far beyond his grade level. The soft hum of the air conditioning and the quiet rustle of pages were a welcome change from the gym, and his home.

His mind shot back to a memory he had only just remembered. It was the first time his mother had brought him here. She had been ill too, just like his father, only she was confined to a wheelchair, but she still made the trek just to appease him.

Maro often wondered why his parents had gotten together.

Two individuals with health problems, it just seemed irresponsible. But he supposed it'd be cruel for the sick to not be allowed to love when they already had the short draw.

Still, he was bitter. 

He turned his head, glancing at the timer on the interface, before returning to his book.

It was difficult work, but that was exactly what he needed to distract him. 

Maro toiled over the the table for nearly two hours, immersed in numbers and formulas.

He copied questions from an advanced workbook into his own, and worked from it until he saw the familiar notification blinked in the corner of his vision.

[Intelligence +1]

He smiled. 

Taking the system notification as a prompt for a well-needed break, Maro wandered to the history section, drawn by a heavy tome about the Justice Society of America. The heroes who had come before. 

He flipped through the yellowed pages, his fingers tracing the grainy photographs of men and women who had shaped history. Who had fought during the War for the freedom of their people.

Real heroes. 

He couldn't help but wonder if he would ever stand among them. 

If possessing this system power made him worthy.

Bzzt!

His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. Break was over, time was ticking, and his quest's deadline was soon.

He raced back to his studies, pushing through the last of his work. The final stretch was brutal, but the notification that flashed before him made it worth it.

[Time remaining: 15 minutes.]

[Intelligence +1]

The quest was complete. Relief washed over him—until a cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind.

[Congratulations, Valor. You have proven yourself worthy of this power.]

"Worthy?" Maro muttered aloud, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

[Your survival was not guaranteed. If you had failed this task, your life would have been reclaimed. Only a host who meets the System's standards is allowed to continue.]

Maro's stomach dropped. "Wait... I would've died?"

[Correct. This quest tested your will. Your desire to change accelerated our plans, but the consequence was always there. You have now met the System's expectations. You were once abnormally weak, physically and mentally, but you have proven yourself capable.]

Maro's mind spun. "So... if I didn't do enough, I would've died?"

[Yes, such as our agreement dictated. But now, you may begin your true journey. The risk is gone. From now on, your life is not in balance. Act as you see fit, as long as you judge it to be in the interest of good.]

His blood ran cold. He had known the stakes were high, but not this high. 

Maro's chest tightened. The system had been testing him all along—evaluating not just his strength, but his worth. And he had passed. But what if he hadn't?

Why is it that he must hang on the precipice of life and death, hadn't he already died? Was it just his fate, to walk in between?

And what did the system mean, calling him "abnormally weak"? He had thought it odd his stats were so low, but he had thought it was due to his lack of exercise. 

If anything, it hinted that he was far below the prerequisite requirements to even be a contender for the system's will. 

Before he could dwell on it, the interface blinked again, new tabs opening in his mind.

[Skill unlocked: Scan]

[Features unlocked: Host's Level, Skills Tab, Mission Tab, Map]

[Levels will now be introduced for more efficient growth. Stat points will be awarded per level up.]

[Experience for levelling up will be provided through Daily missions and Main missions.]

[Mission discoverability governed by the proximity features of the new map interface.]

A flood of new information filled his vision: the Skills tab, the Missions tab, a blue map with a pulsing dot representing his location.

He scrolled through his new abilities, focusing on Valor.

[Skills: Amateur Boxing, Running, Scan, Valor]

[Valor, Lvl 2: Grants a +4.5 boost to all stats when activated.]

Maro clicked on the newer ability he unlocked, Scan.

[Scan, Lvl 1: Allows the user to scan an individual and view their stats.]

He then turned his attention to the new mission board that appeared, listing daily tasks—petty crimes, small acts of heroism in exchange for exp. But the Main missions... those were were empty.

"What's the difference between the daily missions and main missions?", He asked, wondering more so to himself but glad nonetheless when the system responded.

[Daily missions include minor heroic acts. Main missions are missions that hold greater importance and thus greater rewards. The level of importance is such that a greater amount of lives are held in balance with the succession or failure of each Main Mission.]

Maro leaned back in his chair, his shoulders metaphorically heavier with the weight of the news he had just been bestowed. 

He had accepted the System's power without fully understanding what it meant.

Now he understood the full weight of that decision.

But at what cost?

How much of himself would he have to offer to this? 

Maro's gaze hardened as he closed the interface. 

How much of himself would he have to give up to be a Hero?

His mind echoed back to the thought he had after waking up in the hospital, after acquiring the system.

"Perhaps death was a mercy after all."