Chapter 5: Testing His Limits
The morning sun cast long, pale shadows across the sidewalks of Manhattan. Nate walked toward campus, his head buzzing with thoughts. It had been a few days since the system awarded him that mysterious "hand-to-hand combat proficiency," and while his trading gains were still growing steadily, a nagging curiosity kept tugging at the back of his mind. What exactly had the system given him? He hadn't tried to test it yet, but he was starting to feel a strange, subtle difference.
For one, he was more aware of his surroundings. The shuffle of footsteps behind him, the faint clicking of a woman's heels on the pavement ahead—these were details he had never noticed before, and yet now they registered easily. It wasn't just his hearing; his balance felt sharper, his reflexes more precise. Nate hadn't tripped once since the system's message appeared, even when he accidentally stepped on a loose cobblestone the day before. He hadn't paid much attention at first, but now it was getting harder to ignore.
By the time he reached campus, he made up his mind. He would test it—just to see if anything was really different. He found a quiet corner of the quad where few students passed and set down his bag. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then raised his fists awkwardly.
"Alright," Nate muttered to himself. "Here goes nothing."
He threw a tentative jab at the air, and before he could think about it, his body moved. His feet shifted automatically, putting him into a balanced stance. His shoulders rolled with the motion, his arm snapping out smoothly, powerfully, like he'd been trained for years. Surprised, he tried another punch—then another. Each movement was fluid, controlled. His body twisted perfectly to generate force, his feet danced across the ground, and his hands struck invisible targets with uncanny precision.
"What the—" he muttered, lowering his hands.
He wasn't winded at all. He wasn't even breathing heavily. Nate frowned and glanced around again. This time, his eyes spotted details he'd never noticed before: the faint wear on a nearby brick wall, the slight shift of leaves in the breeze, the tension in a fellow student's posture as they carried a heavy bag. Everything felt sharper, more alive. And when he moved—just a step to the left, then a quick sidestep to the right—he felt like he was gliding, every motion natural and controlled.
He didn't just feel stronger. He felt more in tune with himself.
"Okay," Nate said quietly, his mind racing. "This… this is real."
He grabbed his bag and left before anyone could see him, heading to the library to process what just happened. The system wasn't just giving him financial insights; it was changing his body, his mind, his abilities. He sat at his usual corner table, staring blankly at his laptop screen. The implications were overwhelming. If this "hand-to-hand combat proficiency" was real, what would the next milestone bring?
And more importantly, what was he supposed to do with these new skills?
That evening, as Nate made his way back to the hostel, his mind was still spinning with questions. He rounded a corner and paused when he saw two men arguing near a convenience store entrance. The taller of the two had a wild, angry look in his eyes, gesturing aggressively as he shouted at the shorter man. The smaller guy looked scared, his hands raised defensively.
Nate's first instinct was to walk away. This wasn't his problem, and the last thing he wanted was to get involved in someone else's drama. But then the taller man grabbed the smaller one by the collar and shoved him against the wall. The guy's frightened yelp cut through the evening air like a knife.
Nate froze. He felt his heart start to pound—not with fear, but with an odd sense of focus. His body seemed to move before his mind fully caught up. One second, he was standing there, watching. The next, he was stepping forward.
"Hey!" Nate shouted. "Let him go."
The taller man turned, his face twisted in annoyance. "Mind your own business, kid."
Nate's feet kept moving. He stopped a few paces away, his stance firm, his posture straight. "Just walk away," he said, his voice steady. "It's not worth it."
For a moment, the man hesitated, his eyes scanning Nate. Then he sneered. "You don't know who you're messing with." He let go of the smaller man and took a step toward Nate. "You want to play hero? Fine."
Nate felt the rush before the man even swung. Time seemed to slow as the man's fist came toward him. Without thinking, Nate's body reacted. He stepped back smoothly, letting the punch pass harmlessly in front of him. The man's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't stop. He threw another punch—this one faster, more aggressive.
Nate's hand shot up, blocking it with ease. His other hand followed through with a clean, controlled strike to the man's midsection. The taller man staggered back, clutching his stomach, glaring at Nate with a mix of anger and confusion.
"You little—" He charged again, swinging wildly. But Nate was ready. His movements felt effortless, almost automatic. He sidestepped the man's rush and planted a quick jab that sent him reeling.
It was over in seconds.
The taller man stumbled, his balance gone, and eventually backed away, muttering curses under his breath. With one last glare, he turned and disappeared down the street.
Nate stood there, his fists still raised, his breath steady. The smaller man stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Are you okay?" Nate asked, lowering his hands.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine," the man stammered. "Thanks. I don't know what that guy's problem was."
Nate nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "No problem. Just… be careful."
The man gave him a shaky smile before hurrying off, leaving Nate alone on the sidewalk. He stared down at his hands, flexing his fingers. That fight hadn't just been easy—it had been instinctive. Every move felt right, every reaction precise.
The system had done this. It had turned him into someone who could handle himself in a fight, someone who could protect others if needed. Nate had no idea what was coming next, but for the first time, he wasn't afraid of it. He was ready.