Chương 25: Enemy Analysis Online

The heavy barbell hit the rubberized floor of my private gym with a dull, meaty thud. The sound echoed off the mirrors, and the vibration traveled through the soles of my sneakers straight into my bones. I loosened my fingers, and my palms, burning from the cold metal and biting chalk, finally relaxed. My muscles did not just ache, they hummed, like high-voltage wires under load. Every fiber in my body vibrated in sync with that low, pleasant hum.

Right before my eyes, translucent system windows surfaced in the air. They glowed with a soft bluish light, overlaying the familiar gym environment. [Strength +1] [Agility +1] [Endurance +1] [Your Familiar is Growing] [Trainer Level Increased!] I exhaled, feeling the hot air leave my lungs. Finally. Eight weeks. Fifty-six days of monotonous, exhausting work for this moment. To crawl my way to level three, I had to squeeze everything out of myself.

If reaching level two only required raising my stats twice, now the rules of the game had changed. Level three demanded triple the progress. It sounded like simple math, but in reality it was far harsher. Stat growth had treacherously slowed down. Where ten sets used to be enough, now it took one hundred twenty. To move my strength even a fraction, I had to load extra plates onto the bar until it began to bend ominously.

To keep my endurance from stagnating, I ran until the treadmill started warning about overheating. I spent five hours here every single day. Five hours of sweat and heavy breathing. And that was with a passive growth bonus from the [Trainer] class. Honestly, if not for the system's ability to skip the tedious parts of training, compressing hours of torment into fleeting moments, I would have quit in the first month. I know myself.

I am not one of those iron-willed titans who move mountains through sheer stubbornness. If something does not bring me enjoyment, I forget about it faster than yesterday's breakfast. The only exception is work. When rent bills and an empty fridge loom on the horizon, I can grit my teeth and endure any kind of grind. Money is the best motivator for a guy as hopeless as me. While I was reflecting on my questionable personality, the system delivered another batch of notifications.

The very ones I had been torturing myself for all this time. [Special Command +1] [Tactical Mode +1] [New skill acquired: Enemy Analysis] [Enemy Analysis: allows the Trainer to perform a preventive analysis of a subject to develop an attack or retreat strategy]"Hm…" I narrowed my eyes, reading the lines. Sounds promising, but vague. What does "preventive analysis" even mean? Will I see a list of their fears, or just learn how much they bench? I could speculate forever, but practice beats theory.

Before experimenting, I stepped up to the massive wall-length mirror. Under the bright lights, the reflection staring back at me was… both me and not me at the same time. I froze, trying to find my old self in it. My face had barely changed. The same features, the same gaze, though my cheekbones were sharper and the fat was gone from my cheeks. My height stayed the same, thank God.

If my bones had started growing from training, turning me into a giant, I would have had to explain things to my neighbors and replace my entire wardrobe. But everything below the chin… that was surreal. A bodybuilder's dream straight off a magazine cover. My muscles now resembled tightly braided steel cables. Defined, dry, without a trace of excess weight. Every movement played with shadows beneath the skin.

The only reason I did not look like a massive, immobile slab of meat was that I had been pushing agility along with strength. Heavyweights in real life often cannot even scratch their own backs because of their bulk, but I felt light and springy. I used to look at beach boys on social media with mild disdain. I would think, "What do you even need those inflated muscles for? Just to show off in front of other posers." And here it was, pure irony. Now I looked like a model from a sunscreen ad.

A cruel joke by the system.

"Alright, let's see the numbers," I muttered, summoning the interface. [Control Panel: TRAINER] Level: 3 S-Power: 12/12 Special Command: 4/5 Tactical Mode: 2/2 Enemy Analysis: cost 1 S-Power [Subject Status: MONSTER] Level: 1 Race: Human (Homo Sapiens) Attributes: Strength: 10 (Peak human capability) Endurance: 8 (You can run a marathon. Twice) Agility: 9 (You can easily balance on a rope while juggling knives) Current Effects: No negative statuses. I let out a low whistle.

Yeah, this looked far more solid than the pathetic sight I had been on day one. Ten in strength… peak human capability. What exactly did that mean? Could I move a train now or lift a truck like those guys from the Guinness World Records? Excitement fluttered inside me. I would definitely have to go online, find data on the strongest people on the planet, and compare their stats to mine. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. And what comes next?

Is there a limit to this system? Can I step beyond that peak and enter the realm of the superhuman? Will I ever be tossing tanks like tennis balls or bringing down skyscrapers with a clap? The thoughts alone made my temperature rise, a thrill running cold down my spine. I had to take a few deep breaths to return to reality. I caught myself standing in front of the mirror for a good five minutes with a stupid grin, admiring my abs.

Good thing I rented the whole gym, otherwise someone would definitely take me for a complete narcissist. Right now, what interested me most was [Enemy Analysis]. For the first time, a skill description had no daily usage limit. Instead, there was S-Power. Had I finally found a use for that mysterious energy? If so, the rules of the game had changed again. I quickly stepped into the gym's shower. Hot streams of water washed away the salt and fatigue, but the excitement from my progress did not fade.

When I finished, I stuffed my sweat-soaked shirt, shorts, and sneakers into my bag, they were so wet they might as well have been wrung out. Instead, I pulled on a thick, baggy tracksuit. The fabric concealed the muscle definition completely, turning me into an ordinary, unremarkable guy. The gym was elite and private, but I could still run into staff or other clients on the way out. I had no desire for anyone to start discussing my abnormally fast progress. I did not need extra questions.

"Thank you for visit, Mr. Ross," the receptionist smiled as I placed the key on the counter. She gave me a quick glance, and a polite, routine friendliness flickered in her eyes. She clearly did not see me as the peak of human capability. And that was exactly what I needed.

"We'll be glad to see you again."

"Count on it," I nodded. For a moment, I felt tempted to try [Enemy Analysis] right there on the girl at the counter. But I immediately suppressed the impulse, dismissing it as an unjustified risk. Who the hell knew how this mechanic actually worked? What if she felt something? What if my eyes flared with unnatural light or sparks started flying from my fingers?

This gym was my perfect training ground, and ruining my reputation here by turning into "that weird guy with seizures" in the eyes of the staff was the last thing I wanted. I pushed the heavy door and stepped outside. The evening air, soaked with the smell of cooling asphalt and exhaust fumes, felt incredibly fresh after the sterile atmosphere of the gym. I walked over to my car and casually tossed my bag onto the back seat, but did not rush to get in. I needed a target.

The perfect test subject showed up almost immediately. Across the street, on the chipped concrete steps of a closed shop, a vagrant had settled in. What he wore had once been clothes, now they looked like shapeless gray rags. A dented tin cup stood in front of him, and he kept glancing into it with hope whenever the occasional passerby walked past. There were about forty yards between us. Far enough not to attract attention, but close enough for a clear line of sight.

I focused, sending a short, precise mental impulse toward the target. The space in front of my eyes flickered for a moment, and a new window unfolded over reality. [Enemy Status] S-Power: 0/0 Race: Human (Homo Sapiens) Attribures: Strength: 2 (Unable to lift even half of his own weight) Endurance: 2 (Gets winded after climbing one flight of stairs) Agility: 1 (Constantly trips over his own feet) Current Effects: Moderate alcohol poisoning, chronic untreated injuries, critical internal organ damage.

"Yeah…" I muttered under my breath.

"A real wreck." The sight was grim. This poor guy's health had been completely destroyed by cheap booze, he was literally falling apart, held together only by the last scraps of vitality. Most likely, every coin in his cup was meant for another bottle of alcohol. Still, I was not here to moralize. The important thing was clear: the skill worked. And it worked precisely. Now I was not just seeing a person, I was seeing their weak points.

From these dry numbers and brief descriptions, a full picture instantly formed in my head: a weak man, already halfway in the grave. But if someone with excellent health and high stats were hiding under those same rags, I would immediately understand I was dealing with a disguised professional or a spy. Information was the deadliest weapon, and now it was in my hands. Another detail made me frown. The S-Power bar. He had one too, even if it was at zero. So this energy was not my personal privilege?

It existed in everyone? Or did it only appear in the Awakened? I would definitely need to track down Danny and scan him. If his bar was filled, my suspicion would be confirmed. I checked my own status again. S-Power: 11/12 The cost was one unit of energy per use. I deliberately brought up the time on my smartphone screen to measure how fast the bar would recover. Would it regenerate on its own, or would I have to drop into deep sleep every time?

The window with the vagrant's data hovered in front of me for about ten seconds before dissolving smoothly into the air. The man on the steps did not even stir. He kept staring dully at his boots, unaware that he had just been turned inside out in front of a stranger. It seemed the scan was completely silent and unnoticeable to the target. But what if that only worked at a distance? I did not care about this guy's opinion, so I decided to push it. Crossing the street, I stopped right in front of him.

Our eyes met, his were cloudy, with yellowed whites. I activated the skill again. The S-Power bar immediately dropped by another point. So the data was not cached. Want to check again, pay again. Expensive, but fair.

"Hey man, what're you staring at?" he rasped, hitting me with a wave of heavy alcohol breath. There was not a trace of recognition in his voice, he had not felt the intrusion into his mind.

"Thought I'd help you out," I replied, trying to breathe shallowly. I fished all the loose change out of my pocket and dumped it into his tin cup. The coins clinked against the bottom.

"Merci beaucoup, friend!" His face transformed, spreading into a toothless, pitiful grin. He immediately lost all interest in me, counting his unexpected haul. So, stealth was one hundred percent. At least on ordinary people. What remained was to test the technical limits. I began stepping back methodically, checking the distance. Fifty yards, sixty… At seventy yards, the skill stopped responding. I could only see a vague silhouette on the steps, and the system simply could not lock onto the target.

Through simple experimentation, I figured it out: for the analysis to work, I had to clearly distinguish the subject's features. I moved even farther away until the vagrant turned into a small gray blur against the wall. I pulled out my smartphone, turned on the camera, and maxed out the digital zoom. The image on the screen became shaky, but the facial features were recognizable again. Activation. It worked! Excitement surged inside me. This opened up incredible possibilities!

If the system accepted an image through a lens, then I could analyze targets through binoculars, optical scopes, or even surveillance cameras. I would definitely need to get a compact but powerful spyglass to keep in my jacket pocket. I also found out that looking directly at the target's face was not necessary. I circled the vagrant in an arc, scanning him from behind and from the side, the system did not care.

Unfortunately, there was no way to test whether the skill would work from directly above or underground right now. S-Power: 3/12 When the number on the bar dropped dangerously close to the lower limit, I forced myself to stop. That was enough for today. I had no idea what would happen if the energy hit zero. What if I just collapsed in the middle of the street into a deep faint? Risking my health for one more range test would be stupidity. Especially since a plan for the evening was already starting to take shape.

I returned to the car, got behind the wheel, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine responded with a confident purr. Dialing Danny's number, I waited for him to pick up.

"Hey, Danny," I said, smoothly pulling out of the parking lot onto the brightly lit road.

"Can you fly over to me? We need to talk. This directly concerns my new abilities."