Part-11
A wave of exhaustion washed over James. His hand, a dull throb radiating from every overworked muscle, felt like it beloo someone else. But a triumphant grin stretched across his face. He had do. Gritting his teeth through fatigue and disfort, he had squeezed the stress ball a thousand times.
The holographic s pulsed in aowledgment, and a message materialized in its familiar blue glow: "gratutions! Mission plete." A surge of satisfa washed over him. He had taken a step, however small, towards being stronger.
The s then flickered, revealing a new window titled: "[Thundercp Sp(F) EXP (0/100)]." This was the reward, the mysterious skill he had been w towards. "Thundercp Sp" sounded impressive, but the "F" after it likely indicated a beginner's level. The "EXP (0/100)" suggested there was room for improvement, a way to level up this skill.
Intrigue battled with exhaustion in James' mind. What exactly was "Thundercp Sp"? How did it work? A millioions swirled in his head, but his eyelids felt heavy, his body yearning for rest. He decided to save his exploration for ter. With a final squeeze of the now-limp stress ball (more out of habit than y), James tossed it onto his desk and colpsed onto his bed, the holographic s fading as he drifted off to sleep.
The st of ba and eggs wafted through the air, a familiar and f aroma that usually coaxed James downstairs with a rumbling stomach. This m, however, his steps were slow aant. His hand, though still throbbing faintly, felt a world better after a night's rest. He approached the breakfast table, where his mother sat, a worried crease etched between her brows as she sipped her coffee. Her usually vibrant eyes were clouded with , and a stray strand of hair had escaped her braid, a sign of her earlier distress.
"James, honey," she said, her voice ced with , "you looked awful yesterday. Are you feelier?"
James forced a smile, the memory of the alleyway attack ing in his stomach. "Just a little uhe weather, Mom," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.
His mother didn't seem entirely vinced. Her eyes sed him from head to toe, searg for any hidden injuries ns of illness beyond the palehat seemed to have settled permaly on his face. He knew she wouldn't pry – James had always been a good kid, more ied iing lost in the fantastical worlds of his books than the brutal realities of the schoolyard. He wasn't the type to skip css or hang out with rowdy troublemakers. Getting into fights, especially ohat left him so visibly shake like such a cruel anomaly in his otherwise predictable life. It was a jarriure from the gentle, polite boy she knew and raised, a son who wouldn't dream of disrespeg a teacher or talking back to an adult. The sudden shift in his demeanor, the guarded look in his eyes, g her. Yet, she also khat pushing him wouldn't elicit the truth. James had always been fiercely indepe, bottling up his emotions rather than seeking fort. Perhaps, she thought, with a pang of helplessness, this was just a phase, a surge of teenage angst that would pass with time. But the worry lingered, a knot of uightening in her gut.
"Well, don't hesitate to tell me if you need anything at all, alright?" his mother said, her tone softening. She pced a pte piled high with scrambled eggs and toast in front of him. "Eat up, you look like you could use some fuel."
James nodded, grateful for his mother's . He forced himself to take a bite, the food tasting bnd and uizing. His mind reoccupied with the events of the previous night – the mysterious system, the brutal beating, and the strange new skill called "Thundercp Sp."
