System Wide

The sky was a muted blue as dusk slowly crept over the Harlow estate. Laying starfish style in the center of the mat, lay Gordan. His pride stung. In some sense, it wasn't that he was beaten, it was that he'd been humiliated.

Just what sort of would-be explorer gets beaten by a little girl?

Gordan’s legs wobbled slightly as he stood, his muscles still aching from the sparring session. Master Harlow's commanding voice broke through his thoughts. "Sisi, you’re dismissed. Excellent demonstration."

Sisi bowed her head slightly, the look of pride tempered by her natural reserve. Gordan observed her as if she came from another planet. He could see no sweat, no sign of strain. He caught her eye for a brief moment. She smiled softly—apologetically—but there was no hiding the fact that she had enjoyed herself. Gordan's embarrassment deepened. He didn't know whether to be more upset at losing or that he had tried to hold back out of politeness for a little girl.

Shit. He cursed under his breath.

Master Harlow clapped thunderously, breaking the pregnant silence. "Fifty laps, both of you. Around the grounds."

Gordan blinked, his body protesting at the very idea. His breath was still heavy from the sparring. Fifty laps? He turned to Lee, hoping to see some sign of mutual dread. But Lee only offered him a small, encouraging nod as if this was entirely routine. To Lee, Swordmaster in training, it probably was.

The Harlow estate’s backyard stretched wide, fenced in by tall stone walls lined with various training contraptions, obstacles, and weapon racks. It was a veritable battlefield disguised as a wealthy household’s garden. The expanse of grass and dirt paths seemed endless as Gordan stared in disbelief.

Fifty laps around this? Gordan's heart sank, but there was no room for argument with Master Harlow.

Her sharp eyes dared him to object.

With a begrudging sigh, Gordan took his first step, joining Lee, who had already started running at a steady pace. Lapping Gordan was a simple task for Lee.

The first few steps were manageable, but Gordan quickly realized how unprepared he was for this level of endurance. His legs screamed in protest by the time they rounded the first quarter of the yard, his breath coming in uneven bursts. This torture was paired with muscle spasms in his joints, just where Sisi struck.

Meanwhile, Lee was perfectly at ease, his breathing steady, his form fluid and controlled. Noticing Gordan struggling, he slowed down on his second lap, matching Gordan’s pace. "You’re doing great," Lee said, his tone genuinely supportive.

Gordan couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture, but something about it irked him. Is he… humoring me? It felt like another blow to his pride, another straw added to his humiliation. It was bad enough that Lee had been holding back during the sparring match earlier. And now, he was doing it again. A gnawing sense of inadequacy welled up within Gordan as he labored to keep up.

"Don't slow down on my account," Gordan muttered, half-joking, half-serious. He couldn’t mask the bitterness that tinged his words.

Lee shot him a calm glance. "We’re in this together," he said simply, as if that was supposed to make Gordan feel better. It didn’t. In fact, the comment instigated a complex feeling Gordan couldn't describe. They continued in relative silence for a few moments, the rhythmic pounding of their feet on the dirt the only sound cutting through the evening air. Gordan’s mind, however, was far from quiet. His thoughts raced faster than his legs could carry him.

Why did I think I could hold my own here? Lee's been trained for this his whole life, and Sisi... she's like a prodigy. He clenched his teeth, the sting of his earlier defeat replaying in his mind. The look on Master Harlow’s face when he mentioned levels. It was as though he’d committed some kind of sacrilege. He had thought the system was everything—skills, levels, strength, all tied together in a neat package. But this family seemed to operate by entirely different rules. Perhaps for good reason.

The moral implications began to stir Gordan's unsettled mind.

Gordan risked a glance at Lee, who was still jogging steadily beside him. Why does he stay so calm? Gordan wondered, his frustration mounting. He wanted answers. He needed to understand why Master Harlow was so critical of the system that everyone else seemed to worship.

He began to well up. Biting his lip and suppressing the weepiness he managed to blurt out something he didn't even want to ask.

“So... your mother,” Gordan began between ragged breaths, “she really hates the system, huh?”

Lee’s face didn’t change, but his eyes darkened slightly. He remained silent for a few moments, clearly weighing his response. "She doesn’t hate it," Lee finally said, his tone careful. "It’s more complicated than that."

Gordan let out a tired laugh. "Sure feels like she does."

Lee glanced over at him, offering a small smile. "You just saw her teach you a valuable lesson, Gordan. She doesn’t hate the system itself. She hates what it represents—what it's done to young people like us."

Gordan frowned, trying to piece it together. “What do you mean?”

Lee slowed down a fraction, just enough so that they could talk more comfortably as they ran. "My grandfather was one of the greatest swordsmen to ever live. Ever. He mastered swordsmanship to a level no one had even thought possible—level 57. But when he broke through to a higher level... things changed."

Lee’s voice dropped to a near-whisper, and Gordan had to strain to hear him over the sound of their footsteps. "He discovered something no one else had: sword aura. It was like discovering an entirely new technology. But the moment he achieved it, other people gained it too."

Gordan furrowed his brow. "How’s that possible? I thought the system only allowed you to learn skills you worked for."

Lee’s face tightened. "That’s what we thought too. But the system doesn’t just reward effort. It... spreads knowledge, for a fraction of the effort too. My grandfather’s sword aura spread through the system, even though they hadn’t earned it like he did. They... took it. And not long after, one of those people—someone who hadn’t trained as hard, hadn’t suffered like he had—used his own aura against him."

There was a long, heavy silence between them as Gordan processed the weight of Lee’s words. His grandfather was murdered by the very thing he discovered. No wonder Master Harlow resented the system so much. To her, it wasn’t just a tool—it was a potential thief. And worse, a killer.

"Your grandfather… he was killed by his own skill?" Gordan asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Lee nodded, his expression distant. "That’s why my mom teaches us to rely on our own skills, our own minds. The system can be taken from you. But true skill, true mastery—that’s yours alone."

They ran in silence for a while, the gravity of Lee’s words sinking deep into Gordan’s mind. Is the system really a good thing? He’d never questioned it before. Why would he? Everyone he knew relied on it. It was how you became stronger, how you grew. But now, the doubt gnawed at him. If it could take something so personal, so hard-earned, and hand it over to someone else without a second thought… what did that mean for people like him?

By the time they reached the second lap, Gordan was already struggling to keep pace. His lungs burned, and his muscles screamed with every step. Meanwhile, Lee was still running effortlessly beside him, hardly breaking a sweat. Gordan’s frustration mounted, but there was something deeper now—something that went beyond just being outmatched physically. It was the gnawing realization that maybe everything he thought he knew about strength, about worth, was wrong.

"How do you feel about it?" Gordan asked suddenly, his voice hoarse. "The system, I mean."

Lee glanced at him, his face unreadable for a moment. "I don’t know, maybe thankful? Maybe bitter." he admitted quietly. "I’ve lived with it my whole life, just like you. But after what happened to my grandfather, I’ve learned not to trust it completely. It’s useful, sure. But it’s not everything."

Lee paused. "Sometimes I think it's good. In a way, I'm training to inherit what my grandfather intended to teach me. Even though it's the system, it's like I get to have a little piece of him."

Gordan nodded, though his thoughts were a mess of contradictions. Not everything? He had spent years studying to level up, honing his skills, trying to make something of himself within the system’s framework. If it wasn’t everything, then what was? What did real strength even look like outside of it? They fell back into silence as they ran, the only sound now the rhythmic pounding of their feet against the dirt. By the fourth lap, Gordan’s body was screaming at him to stop. His breath was ragged, his limbs heavy as lead. But he pushed on, gritting his teeth against the burning in his legs.

Lee, noticing his struggle, slowed slightly. "You’ve got this," he said quietly, offering Gordan a thumbs up and a reassuring look.

But Gordan wasn’t so sure. His mind was a storm of doubts and questions, and his body was on the verge of giving out. Still, he couldn’t stop now. He couldn’t let himself fall behind again.

Hours later, with too many bruises and scratches to count, they'd completed their assignment. Gordan had fallen over ten times, he'd stopped counting at ten. Gordan collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving. His entire body felt like it was on fire, but the worst of it was in his mind. He felt small. Insignificant. Beaten—not just by Lee and Sisi—but by the very idea of what strength meant in this world.

The sky was dark, but the stars were out. Gordan's feelings were complicated. He managed to lift his arms off the ground towards the sky.

"AAAAAAAHHH!!!!" He screamed.

Lee, standing above him gave him a smirk. "I understand."

After the training session, Gordan excused himself with a cane that Sisi kindly offered him. From the Harlow estate he headed into town with a single goal in mind: to understand his place in a world where the system he’d always relied on might not be the key to true strength after all.