SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery

I lay on the gym floor for several minutes, looking at my body and trying to process what had just happened. The dream—or whatever that had been—felt more real than most of my actual memories. Mark's scarred face, his final warning about regret, the vivid scenarios of my own death... all of it lingered in my mind with uncomfortable clarity.

But more immediately pressing was the state of my physical form. I flexed my fingers experimentally, expecting the sharp agony of my broken wrist to flood through me. The pain was there, but it felt... muted. Manageable. The Pain Resistance skill was working exactly as advertised, filtering the worst of the sensations while leaving me functionally capable.

More surprising was how much my body had actually healed. When I'd collapsed, my wrist had been swollen to nearly twice its normal size, my bicep had been torn into a grotesque knot, and I'd been bleeding from multiple internal injuries. Now, while I could still feel the damage, the acute symptoms had diminished significantly.

I sat up carefully, testing my range of motion. My wrist was still clearly injured—I could feel the broken bones grinding against each other when I moved it—but the swelling had gone down considerably. My bicep still showed signs of the tear, but the muscle had somehow reformed into something resembling its normal shape.

Physical Recovery Efficiency had clearly been working overtime while I was unconscious. Actually...if I made that skill level 10...just how fast would I regenerate? A thought for later I guess.

I had no idea how long I'd been out. It could have been an hour, or it could have been several. The gym had windows, but it was already nigh time by the time I started working out. Based on how much my body had healed, it had probably been at least two or three hours.

Which meant the others were probably wondering where I was.

I forced myself to my feet, using the wall for support as I tested my weight distribution. My legs were shaky but functional, and while my spine still sent occasional jolts of pain through my nervous system.

Looking around the gym, I could see the evidence of my extreme training session scattered across the floor. There was a pool of vomit near the pull-up bar where I'd lost control of my stomach, and several dark stains that were probably blood from various injuries. The sight should have been horrifying—proof of just how far I'd pushed my body beyond any reasonable limit.

Instead, I felt a grim satisfaction. I'd broken through another barrier, discovered another capability that the System could provide to those willing to pay the price. The question now was what other "impossible" skills I could unlock if I continued pushing boundaries that weren't supposed to be crossed.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted my contemplation. I quickly moved away from the worst of the evidence, positioning myself near the free weights as if I'd just been doing a normal workout. The last thing I needed was for the others to see the full extent of what I'd put myself through.

"Rey?" Camille's voice drifted through the gym door. "Are you in there? It's almost midnight—we were starting to get worried."

The door opened, and both Camille and Alexis stepped into the gym. Their expressions immediately shifted from concern to alarm as they took in my appearance. I probably looked terrible. Maybe pale, sweaty, and moving with the careful precision of someone trying to hide significant injuries.

"What happened?" Alexis asked, her medical training instantly activating as she approached me. Her eyes were already scanning for obvious signs of trauma, and I could see her taking note of my careful posture and the way I was favoring my right side.

"Just experimenting," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and casual. "Testing some limits, seeing how far I could push certain training methods."

It wasn't technically a lie, but it was a massive understatement of what I'd actually done. I could only hope they wouldn't notice the pool of vomit on the far side of the room, or the blood stains I hadn't been able to clean up.

Camille frowned, moving closer to examine my condition. "You look awful. How long have you been in here?"

"A few hours," I admitted. "I lost track of time. Got a bit carried away with the workout."

Alexis was studying my posture with the intensity of someone who'd spent years learning to identify hidden injuries. "You have a couple broken bones...What exactly were you doing?"

I needed to give them something believable without revealing the full extent of my reckless experimentation. "I sprained my ankle," I said, which was technically true—among the dozens of other injuries I'd sustained. "Made me fall on some weights...Guess I pushed a bit too hard on some of the plyometric exercises."

The lie felt wrong, but necessary. If they knew what I'd really done, they'd probably tie me to a bed to prevent me from doing it again. And I couldn't afford that kind of restriction, not when I was just beginning to understand the possibilities.

"Let me take a look," Alexis said, already moving to support my weight. "Can you walk?"

"I think so," I replied, leaning on her more than I probably needed to. The contact was actually helpful—her support made it easier to mask the full extent of my mobility issues.

As she helped me toward the door, I caught a glimpse of the vomit pool from the corner of my eye. Fortunately, both women seemed focused on me rather than surveying the room for evidence of what had really happened. I made a mental note to come back and clean everything up first thing in the morning, before anyone else had a chance to see it.

The walk to our bedroom was slow and careful, with Alexis supporting most of my weight while Camille hovered nearby, ready to help if I collapsed. I played up the ankle injury, limping more dramatically than necessary to provide cover for the other, more serious damage I was hiding.

"You need to be more careful," Camille said as we navigated the hallway. "We can't afford to have you getting injured from training accidents, not with everything else that's going on."

"I know," I replied, though privately I was already planning my next experimental session. "Just got a bit too focused on improvement. Won't happen again."

Another lie, but one that seemed to satisfy them for now.

We made it to our spacious and comfortable bedroom. I still find it crazy how all 5 of us fit in this bed.

I wasn't surprised to see that Sienna and Evelyn were already asleep in the bed, curled up together under the covers. They looked peaceful despite everything that had happened, their faces relaxed in a way that only came with deep exhaustion.

Alexis helped me onto the bed, then began a careful examination of my supposedly sprained ankle. Her hands were gentle but thorough, checking for signs of swelling, breaks, or ligament damage. I had to concentrate on not reacting to the pain from my actual injuries while maintaining the fiction of a simple ankle sprain.

"It's not too bad," she concluded after a few minutes. "Some swelling and tenderness, but nothing that won't heal with rest and proper care. Ice it tomorrow morning, and try to stay off it for a few days. As for the bones, avoid unnecessary movements, I know you heal fast so it should be fine."

"Will do," I agreed, knowing full well that I had no intention of resting any longer than absolutely necessary.

Camille had already changed into her sleep clothes and was settling into the bed next to Sienna. "How did your social media post go?" I asked, partly out of genuine curiosity and partly to redirect attention away from my condition.

"Good response so far," she replied quietly, mindful of the sleeping women nearby. "The message is getting shared widely, and the general reaction is positive. People seem to be interpreting the assassination attempt as proof that we're making real progress, just like you hoped."

That was encouraging. Public perception would be crucial in the coming weeks, and having Camille's platform working in our favor was a significant advantage.

Alexis finished her examination and helped me get situated under the covers, positioning pillows to support my supposedly injured ankle. The actual relief came from finally being able to lie down properly and let my various damaged systems rest without having to maintain the pretense of normal function.

"Get some sleep," Alexis said, settling in beside me. "Tomorrow's going to be another difficult day, and you need to recover from whatever you did to yourself in there."

Her tone suggested she wasn't entirely convinced by my story about a simple ankle sprain, but she wasn't pressing the issue. For now, that was enough.

As the room settled into quiet darkness, I found myself surrounded by the four women who'd I'd give anything for. Sienna's steady breathing on my left, Camille's warmth pressed against my right side, Alexis's careful concern evident even in sleep, and Evelyn's presence across the bed—all of them trusting me to lead them toward something better, despite the risks.

The weight of that responsibility should have been crushing, especially after the day's events and my reckless experimentation. But instead, I felt energized. The Pain Resistance skill was a huge stepping stone in increasing my physical capabilities. If I could unlock one impossible ability through sheer determination and willingness to pay the price, what other skills might be achievable?

I thought about the dream, about all the ways I could have died during my journey so far. Mark's warning about regret echoed in my mind, but it felt distant and irrelevant compared to the possibilities I was beginning to envision.

I wasn't invincible—the dream had made that abundantly clear. But why couldn't I become invincible? If a combination of the System and my job title could grant Pain Resistance to someone willing to systematically destroy their own body, what might it offer to someone willing to push even further beyond conventional boundaries?

Physical Recovery Efficiency had already proven that healing could be enhanced far beyond normal human limits. Pain Resistance showed that the nervous system's response to damage could be fundamentally altered. Hook and Jab showed that physical attacks and techniques could be learned and improved. What other biological systems could be modified, enhanced, or transcended entirely?

Damage resistance, perhaps. The ability to absorb physical trauma without sustaining actual injury. What about martial arts? Could I learn them and master them at a rapid pace? Even something like improved cognitive processing that could let me think faster than humanly possible.

The possibilities were intoxicating, and I could already feel my mind beginning to formulate training regimens that would make tonight's session look restrained by comparison. If I was going to face increasingly sophisticated enemies, if I was going to protect the people who'd chosen to follow me, then I want to become something more than human.

The System had shown me that such transformations were possible. Now I just needed to find the courage—or well...stupidity—to pursue them.

As I drifted toward sleep, surrounded by warmth and the steady breathing of people who believed in me, I began planning tomorrow's experiments. The gym would need to be cleaned first, of course. I couldn't risk anyone else discovering the evidence of what I'd done.

But after that... after that, I would begin pushing toward capabilities that weren't supposed to exist.

I might not be invincible now, but that was a problem I intended to solve.

The question wasn't whether I could transcend human limitations—tonight had proven that was possible. The question was how far I was willing to go, and what prices I was prepared to pay.

As consciousness faded and sleep began to claim me, I smiled grimly in the darkness. Tomorrow would bring new challenges and new obstacles to overcome.

But it would also bring new opportunities to discover just how malleable the System's skills really were.

And I intended to discover them all.