Resonance Harem: I Level Up Through Sincerity

Ch 3. Welcome to the Nexus

The next day, I was standing barefoot on the mats in Jade’s rented dojo space, already regretting every life choice that had brought me here. The place smelled faintly of sweat and disinfectant, the kind of combination that told you things happened here that left stains.

I tugged at the waistband of the borrowed dojo shorts, already regretting not bringing my own. The mats felt strange under my bare feet, too soft to trust, too firm to relax on.

Last night I spent an hour online searching “how to spar without dying,” which had only produced videos of people getting knocked out in slow motion. Now here I was, voluntarily in a place where people hit each other for fun. Clearly, I had lost my mind.

Jade stood across from me, hands on hips, her black tank top and training shorts making it abundantly clear her legs could probably kick me into orbit. She tilted her head, giving me the kind of once-over you give a questionable Craigslist purchase.

“You sure about this?” she asked.

“Nope.”

She smirked. “Good answer. Let’s see if you last five minutes.”

“Five minutes is… generous,” I muttered.

Somewhere behind me, a loud voice carried over the sound of clapping pads. “Jade! You ready for the exhibition later?”

I froze. I knew that voice.

I turned my head just enough to confirm it. Marcus Hale, in all his protein-powdered glory, was across the room teaching a small group. He hadn’t noticed me yet, but my stomach had already staged a walkout.

Jade just shrugged. “Don’t worry about him.”

Right. Sure. Easy for her to say. She hadn’t spent three years having her lunch money leveraged out of her hands by that guy.

I glanced over to see Marcus casually demonstrating a takedown to his students, moving with a confidence that made him look even bigger. His group burst into laughter at something he said, not about me, hopefully, but it still crawled under my skin. I reminded myself I was here for “stat boosts.” Which sounded a lot dumber when thinking about it.

Round one started with Jade stepping forward in a casual stance that said I’m not even breaking a sweat for this. She didn’t hit me hard, just enough to keep me scrambling, slipping, gasping for breath. By the two-minute mark, my legs felt like wet sandbags and my lungs were writing angry resignation letters.

Then I heard Marcus’s voice, loud enough for the entire room to hear:

“Hey, Jade, you teaching the delivery boy self-defense, or is this charity work?”

A couple of chuckles bubbled from his side of the room. I pretended not to hear, which I am sure fooled exactly no one.

Jade swept my leg out from under me, and I hit the mat with a thud that knocked the air from my lungs. Somewhere behind me, someone from Marcus’s class muttered a low “oof.” The mat smelled like rubber and old sweat that clings no matter how much you clean it.

“Keep your guard up,” she said, grinning down at me.

My muscles screamed as I pushed myself up fast, anything to keep Marcus from getting another free laugh. My brain was already bargaining: fake a cramp, say you pulled something, she’ll let you quit without losing face.

[Warning: Synergy Links feed on sincerity. Fake it, lose it.]

Great. Now my imaginary AI coach was heckling me.

Then Marcus’s smirk flashed in my mind, uninvited, like the world’s worst motivational poster.

“Again,” I said, surprising myself.

Marcus must have overheard because his laugh cut across the mats. “That’s the spirit, Cross. Stand up just to get knocked down again.”

Approval shifted in Jade’s eyes. Or maybe it was calculation, deciding how many more seconds until I face-planted.

Round two was worse. She moved faster, mixing low kicks with light jabs, making me defend angles I didn’t even know existed. My balance went out the window by the thirty-second mark. Twice I almost tripped over my own feet. Once, I actually did.

I caught Marcus in my peripheral vision, leaning on the ropes like he was watching pay-per-view. “Careful, Jade. Don’t break him before his next latte run.”

Laughter again. This time I didn’t pretend not to hear.

Don’t make it fake. Don’t make it fake.

My jaw clenched.

Fake it and you lose it.

Mira’s voice echoed in my head, and I pictured the UI bleeding red, my stats nosediving if I quit now. A petty little daydream of wiping that smug look off Marcus’s face someday flickered to life. It was enough to make me lunge at Jade, clumsy but committed.

She gave a sharp nod. “Better.”

Five minutes later, I was on my knees, drenched in sweat, lungs burning. But I hadn’t quit.

[Quest Complete: Sparring Session with Jade]

[Skill Unlocked: Iron Will — END Regeneration Boost During Combat]

Jade crouched beside me, tossing me a water bottle. “Not bad, delivery boy.”

“It’s Evan,” I wheezed.

She grinned. “We’ll see if you earn the name.”

When I finally staggered home, Mira’s voice was smug in my head.

[Level Up — L2 → L3. Stat points earned: +2 END, +1 ADP.]

Presence: 6

Resonance: 7

Adaptability: 7 → 8

Endurance: 10 → 12

[Welcome to the Nexus, Evan. Let’s start making you someone worth upgrading.]

I looked at my reflection in the dark window. Still me, still scrawny, still a mess. But for the first time in years, I didn’t look away.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Let’s.”

[Oh, and there’s a time limit.]

I froze. “Time limit? What kind of—”

[Better get moving, rookie.]

The UI in my vision flickering like a dying lightbulb. My pulse kicked up, a cold thought creeping in. What if the countdown had already started? I blinked, but the faint, ticking glow stayed, pulsing steadily like it could see straight through me.

The glow kept ticking in the corner of my vision like a microwave that never dings.

“Okay,” I said to the empty room, hands on my knees, sweat still drying from Jade’s murder-yoga. “Time limit for what?”

[For not screwing this up.]

“Helpful.” I waved at the little pulsing dot. “Define it. I hate surprises. Except pizza.”

“You formed your first Synergy Link,” Mira said in my head. “Links run on real connection. No connection, no juice. If you ghost Jade, RSN will decay. Decay locks skills. Iron Will goes night-night.”

“So… if I don’t keep talking to her, I lose the buff?”

“Bingo, rookie. Two weeks of neglect and the Link starts coughing up dust. You’ll feel it. Stats dip. Skills gray out. Headache. Regret. The usual.”

My stomach sank. “Two weeks? I can barely move my arms. I can’t do round two with her this week. Or… ever.”

“You don’t need sparring every day,” Mira said. “Check-ins count. Real ones. Bring her water, ask a real question, help with something. Be honest. Sincerity is your fuel.”

“So I can’t just DM her a thumbs-up and keep the Link alive?”

“Send the thumbs up, and I’ll uninstall myself.”

I blew out a breath, flopped onto my couch, and groaned when my back hit a sore spot I didn’t know existed. “How do I make this easier?”

“Find another Link. Stack bonuses. You’re wobbly. Get a Tech Link for brain buffs. Or Influence for charisma. Stack them and you won’t feel like a piñata with legs.”

“Right, just find another Link like it’s a BOGO sale. Where? Tinder for XP?”

“Outside,” she said. “Start with your building. You might trip over potential Links.”

I stared at the flicker. “You’re not going to—what—pin a map for me?”

“Training wheels are for toddlers and tricycles. Go.”

“Love the empathy,” I muttered, and dragged myself upright.

My phone buzzed for real this time. A push from a gig app I forgot to uninstall: QuickDrop—1 urgent delivery near you. $25. The pickup address? The electronics place two blocks over. Drop-off? My building. Huh.

“Stacking bonuses… and paying rent,” I said. “Fine.”

“Have a quick shower and wear deodorant,” Mira said. “Authenticity isn’t smelly.”