> "They called him trash. They mocked his failures. They doubted his existence. But now… he still sucks. But slightly less. That's progress, right?"
---
The early morning air bit through Zane's soaked clothes like an ex-girlfriend's sarcasm—sharp, cold, and completely unnecessary.
His back slammed into the rocky ground for what had to be the eighty-seventh time this morning. He wasn't sure though. He'd lost count after the hallucinated Goku challenged him to a push-up contest and his brain blue-screened.
"Get up, you pathetic Saiyan larva!" bellowed Vegeta, standing atop a boulder with his arms crossed and a scowl that could curdle dragon milk.
Zane groaned. "I'm not a Saiyan, Vegeta. I'm just some guy who didn't even pass high school gym class."
"Excuses are for Earthlings!" Vegeta barked. "And technically, so are you, but that's not the point."
"Ughhh," Zane sat up, clutching his abs. "S.A.S.S., how long is this sadistic torture going to last?"
> 🧠 S.A.S.S. Activated:
"Until your body stops resembling a soggy spaghetti noodle."
"Then I'll die before dinner."
> "I've factored in your weak constitution. Probability of death: 87%. Probability of readers laughing at your misery: 100%."
The training field hadn't changed—flat terrain, a couple rocks, patches of grass with suspicious stains that Zane refused to investigate, and no other students in sight. This wasn't official training. This was the system's off-grid hell camp.
"Alright, meat popsicle," S.A.S.S. chimed with cheerfulness that should be illegal, "Today's workout:
500 push-ups
500 squats
10 km run
And one emotional breakdown."
"Can I do the breakdown first?" Zane muttered, dragging himself into plank position.
His arms trembled. Not from exertion, but from the pure rage of existence.
"Down."
He dipped.
"Up."
He didn't.
> BZZT! Mild electric shock activated for failure to comply.
"AAAARGH! Are you electrocuting me for slacking?!"
> "This is what you get for skipping arm day for 17 years."
Around push-up number 30, reality started to flicker.
He was no longer in the field. He was in a dojo, lit by paper lanterns and anime logic.
A robed figure with silver hair floated before him. Kakashi? No... Jiraiya? Wait—Master Roshi?!
"Strength isn't about lifting weights, my boy," the illusion rasped. "It's about lifting your potential."
Zane blinked. "Wow… that's actually kinda deep."
"Also, boobs are nice," Roshi added.
"...And there it is."
Two hours later, Zane sat hunched beneath a dead tree, scarfing down rice balls like Goku at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
> Recovery boost activated: Healing rate doubled while eating.
He shoved three more into his mouth at once.
"Ish thish… shome kind ofh… m-mahagic?"
> "No, it's called nutrition. Welcome to biology, moron."
---
🧠 Author's Note (IN THE STORY, Because Why Not)
[Author Appears on Screen Wearing Torn Hoodie]
"Hi readers. It's me. Your suffering author. Yes, I wrote this chapter while eating two slices of expired bread and crying over my bank account. So if you're laughing right now — please consider giving a power stone. Or a gift. Or a kidney. Preferably not yours, but one you stole from a rich vampire."
[Author fades into smoke… coughs because they can't afford real effects]
The squats were next.
He was halfway through his set when a ghostly image of Levi Ackerman appeared, cleaning blood off his blade.
"You squat like a drunk goat," Levi muttered.
"Screw you, anime ghost."
> Hallucination Levi sighs.
"If you don't improve by tomorrow, I'll clean your soul off the floor."
By the 10km mark, Zane had reached what scientists call the 'why me' stage of evolution.
He collapsed beside a tree, mud caked on his shirt, hair drenched in sweat and shame.
Everything hurt. His arms felt like wet noodles. His legs were on fire. His spine had filed for divorce.
And worst of all... he wasn't even strong yet.
He was still the same "trash mage" in everyone's eyes.
The academy students didn't see this. The professors didn't care. His enemies laughed. And the system? It made jokes.
But beneath the suffering… a tiny ember stirred in his chest.
It wasn't pride. Or hope.
It was rage. A quiet, eerie kind of anger that said:
> "I'll prove them wrong. Not by being better. But by being impossible to ignore."
As his eyes fluttered shut, a hallucinated Naruto dropped from a tree.
"Believe it!"
"No."
Then Ichigo appeared. "Get stronger or get lost."
"Still no."
Then… Dio Brando, cape flowing. "Zane… It was me all along!"
"OKAY THAT ONE WAS FUNNY," Zane groaned, laughing despite the pain.
---
🧪 System Prompt
> 🧠 Physical Stat +1
Your body no longer collapses when walking uphill.
Your bones scream only half as loud.
Progress.
> 🧠 Mentality +1
Your sarcasm is now 4% more toxic.
Emotional resistance upgraded from "crybaby" to "reluctant masochist."
---
🏆 At Sunset…
He limped into his shared academy dorm, trying not to look like someone who just fist-fought gravity.
Students passed by him. Some snickered. Some didn't even look.
Zane smiled anyway.
Let them laugh.
The real punchline hadn't come yet.
But it would.
He'd make sure of it.
And when it did… they wouldn't be laughing.
They'd be kneeling.
---
📜