Gehrman remained motionless on the black stone floor of the training room, his breath short and his muscles trembling from exhaustion. The defeat against Electhra, although predictable given his current state, acted like a slow poison on his oversized ego. He stared at the mana-reinforced ceiling, his icy gray eyes reflecting a frustration he struggled to contain.

"She didn’t even take me seriously," he muttered through his teeth, his jaw clenched.

He raised his right hand, gloved in black leather, and concentrated the little mana circulating in his circuits. In an instant, a small black flame appeared in the center of his palm. It emitted no conventional heat, but the air around it seemed to distort, as if devoured by the void.

Since his class had always been that of a mage, the manifestation of a low-level spell did not represent an immediate danger to his physical integrity. However, Gehrman knew that if he tried to draw deeper into his essence to invoke more powerful magic, the mana saturation would cause an accelerated disintegration of his cells. His current body was not yet sublimated to contain the energy of the Void. He closed his fist, smothering the black flame in the darkness of his glove.

"You can’t even cast a high-level spell without risking implosion," he mocked himself.

He dropped into a sitting position, legs crossed. The arrogance that inhabited him could not tolerate this state of vulnerability. He then decided to open the system. Immediately, a translucent bluish window appeared before his eyes, floating in the dim light of the room.

He swept the screen with the back of his hand to display the pending notifications.

[DAILY QUEST AVAILABLE]

[Objective: Prepare the body for awakening]

[Push-ups: (0 / 100)]

[Sit-ups: (0 / 100)]

[Squats: (0 / 100)]

[Running: (0 / 10 km)]

[Reward: Attribute Points (+3)]

Gehrman stared at the screen with a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

He let out a brief, joyless laugh. Then he remembered that every attribute point was a step toward recovering his past power. Without another word, he got into position, his gloved hands firmly planted on the floor.

He began the first set. One, two, three... The movements were jerky at first. His muscles protested violently.

"Five..." he counted under his breath. "Six..."

By the fiftieth repetition, a thin film of sweat already covered his forehead, sliding along his grayish strands. The pain was sharp, a sensation he had almost forgotten. He clenched his teeth and continued his push-ups.

When he reached the ninetieth push-up, his arms were trembling so hard that he had to take a three-second pause between each movement. Yet he refused to stop. At the hundredth, he rolled onto his back to continue with the sit-ups, expelling the air from his lungs in a low grunt.

Each abdominal contraction tore a muffled groan from him. He felt the fibers of his muscles tearing and rebuilding under the influence of the system, a micro-sublimation that strengthened his biological structure with every effort.

"Thirty-five..." he panted, his abs on fire.

After finishing the sit-ups, he lay on his back for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, before getting up for the squats. The mana pressure in the room seemed to lighten as his vitality increased, a sign that his body was finally beginning to adapt to the ambient energy density.

After the hundred squats, his thighs burned with every breath. He then approached the wall and placed a hand against the cool stone to avoid staggering.

Next, he took a deep breath and began running around the room. Lap after lap. Time lost its consistency. At the second kilometer, his lungs begged him to stop. At the fifth, his legs carried him mechanically, as if his body had found a survival rhythm independent of his will.

"Pathetic... having to sweat to obtain what was rightfully mine..." he thought bitterly, while continuing his movements with metronomic regularity.

His sweatshirt was now completely soaked, clinging to his athletic torso and revealing the contours of a musculature still in full formation, highlighting the latent power that was just beginning to take root in his flesh.

As he slowed down after his final stride, his burning lungs drawing in the fresh air of the room, a new system message flashed in his field of vision.

[CONGRATULATIONS: DAILY QUEST COMPLETED]

[Objective: Prepare the body for awakening]

[Push-ups: (100 / 100)]

[Sit-ups: (100 / 100)]

[Squats: (100 / 100)]

[Running: (10 / 10 km)]

[Rewards granted: Attribute Points (+3)]

[Please allocate your points to stabilize your physical envelope.]

Gehrman wasted no time. Quickly, he distributed the points: two in **Agility** and one in **Vitality**. He then felt a sudden warmth spread through his lower limbs, then rise along his spine, instantly soothing part of his muscle fatigue.

"At least it works," he admitted reluctantly.

Another system message appeared, displaying his updated statistics:

[Statistics]

Strength: 10

Vitality: 11

Agility: 12

Intelligence: 100

Sense: 50

Suddenly, the sharp pneumatic sound of the door opening broke the silence of the room. Gehrman stopped dead. His senses, although reduced compared to what they had once been, had still perceived an immediate and foreign presence. He turned slowly, his face instantly regaining its mask of haughty coldness. He wiped the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his black glove, then his icy gray eyes fixed on the intruder.

A young woman stood in the doorway, observing him with an intensity that mixed curiosity and professional rigor. She possessed a remarkable athletic physique; her well-defined abs were highlighted by a fitted black crop top, while beige military shorts completed her outfit. Her flaming red hair was tied in a high ponytail, revealing a face with a severe expression. Her eyes, a red matching her hair, scanned Gehrman’s silhouette from head to toe before she took a step forward. Her boots clicked confidently on the stone.

"You must be Mr. Gehrman..." she declared in a firm voice, although a slight hint of nervousness seemed to pierce through her facade.

He examined her in turn as he removed his sweat-soaked sweatshirt, exposing his abs.

"And you, who exactly are you?" he replied in a monotone voice, without the slightest hint of courtesy.