The Formidable System: Alex Cole Secret Heir

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 

 The gym smelled of sweat, rubber mats, and the faint metallic tang of iron. Machines clanked and weights thudded against padded flooring, the rhythm of discipline echoing through the cavernous hall. Mirrors stretched across the walls, reflecting bodies honed by years of relentless effort. Men and women sculpted into something almost inhuman in their precision. Their veins bulged, muscles flexed, their grunts timed with each rep.

 And then there was Ethan. He stood at the edge of the weight rack, shoulders slouched, his palms clammy against the cold steel of a barbell. Compared to them, he looked like a stranger who had stumbled into the wrong world. A boy lost among warriors.

 “Beginner detected,” the System’s cool text shimmered faintly across his vision. “Adapting training program.”

 Ethan grimaced. “Yeah, no kidding.”

 He tried to lift, but his hands trembled, wrists threatening to give way. His reflection mocked him, gaunt, tired, untrained. Yet, with every shaky rep, the System adjusted, overlaying faint glowing guides onto his body. Arrows showed the right angle of his elbows, markers corrected his posture, and a dull vibration pulsed in his vision whenever he strained too much.

 “Correction: realign stance. Correction: lower weight capacity. Correction: breathing inconsistent. Adjust.”

 Ethan cursed under his breath but followed. His chest heaved, muscles screaming, lungs burning. Every fiber of his body begged him to quit. And yet…

 [Time Remaining: 39:26:12]

 The mission timer ticked down in merciless red. Failure wasn’t an option. Not now.

 He gritted his teeth, pushing through another rep, his arms wobbling under the strain. His knees buckled, sweat stung his eyes, and the bar nearly crushed him before the System steadied it with subtle guidance.

 “Correction: exceeding safe output. Stabilizing…”

 The bar trembled but didn’t fall. Ethan forced it upward, a guttural sound tearing from his throat. When he racked it and staggered back, chest pumping like a piston, he felt something unfamiliar. His body hadn’t betrayed him. It had responded. Slowly. Painfully. But it had responded.

 For the first time, he wondered if maybe…just maybe he could change.

 By the time Ethan stumbled out of the gym, night had already fallen. His shirt clung to him like a second skin, sweat darkening the fabric. His arms dangled at his sides, heavy as lead, his legs rubbery, yet strangely alive.

 And despite the soreness, his spirit felt lighter. For once, he hadn’t given up.

 “Progress recorded,” the System whispered in its calm monotone.

 Endurance +1. Strength +1.

 

 Ethan almost laughed. Numbers. Stats. It felt childish, like a game. But in this moment, those little increments meant everything. They were proof. Proof he was no longer standing still.

 He slung his worn backpack over one aching shoulder and stepped into the buzz of London’s nightlife. Restaurants glowed with warm light, taxis honked, music drifted from pubs, and groups of friends spilled into the streets, their laughter rising into the night air. Ethan walked among them unnoticed, just another face in the blur.

 And then he froze.

 Ahead, standing under the soft glow of a streetlamp outside a glittering Italian restaurant, was Lily.

 Her laugh carried over the traffic a sound once sweet to him, now sharp and poisonous. She wore a black silk dress that shimmered like water, her hair swept elegantly back, every detail of her appearance immaculate. At her side stood Daniel, tall and broad-shouldered, confidence radiating from him like a cologne. Around them, two of Lily’s friends clutched wine glasses, cheeks flushed from laughter and drink.

 Ethan’s stomach turned. His instinct screamed to vanish into the crowd, to slip away unseen. But fate wasn’t so merciful. One of the friends noticed him first.

 “Wait… isn’t that…?” she whispered, voice carrying just enough

 Lily’s head turned. For a heartbeat, her expression softened in recognition. Then her eyes narrowed, her mouth curving into something between pity and disdain.

 “Ethan?” she said, voice smooth as glass. “Well. This is… unexpected.”

 Her friends smirked behind their glasses. Daniel leaned casually against the wall, his grin sharp.

 “What are the odds?” he drawled.

Ethan felt the heat rush to his face. His gym clothes clung damply to his skin, his hair stuck in messy clumps, his entire body trembling from fatigue. He must have looked pathetic like a beggar wandering into a ballroom.

 Lily tilted her head, her tone a mockery of concern. “I didn’t know you were into… fitness. Though, judging by the look of you, it must’ve been your first time.”

 Laughter rippled among her friends. Daniel didn’t bother to hide his amusement.

 Ethan’s fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The old humiliation rose like bile. The banquet, the jeers, the memory of her walking away without a second glance.

 

 And then, the System pulsed.

 [Emotional Surge Detected. Option: Retaliate verbally? Y/N]

 His breath caught. He could do it. He could spit venom, tear her mask, expose every cruel word she had left imprinted on him.

 But another line of text appeared, glowing faintly.

 [Option: Exercise Restraint. Outcome: Character Growth.]

 Ethan shut his eyes briefly. His muscles ached, his pride stung, but when he spoke, his voice was steady. Calm.

“Good evening, Lily,” he said simply. His gaze brushed Daniel. “Daniel.”

 And then he stepped past them.

For a moment, silence reigned.

 The old Ethan would have stammered, begged, perhaps even tried to prove himself. But this Ethan, sweat-soaked, battered, and unbowed walked away.

 Behind him, Lily’s friends broke into laughter, their voices cutting the night air. Daniel muttered something Ethan didn’t catch. But Lily’s voice carried, sharper than the rest.

 “You really haven’t changed, have you, Ethan? Still running away.”

 His jaw tightened mid-step, but he didn’t turn.

 “Progress recorded,” the System intoned.

 [Willpower +2. Emotional Control +1.]

 Ethan exhaled slowly and kept walking.

 By the time he reached the quieter end of the street, the chaos of voices and clinking glasses behind him, his chest was tight. not from exertion, but from the storm inside.

 He hated her. God, he still loved her. He wanted her to regret, to choke on her own laughter when she realized what she had thrown away. But for the first time, he hadn’t shattered under her gaze. He had walked away.

 A faint notification blinked.

[New Trait Acquired: Resilience.]

Ethan’s lips curled into a weak, bitter smile. Resilience. Maybe the System understood him better than he did.

 But the thought was cut short as the hairs on his neck bristled.

 Footsteps, Light, Deliberate.

He slowed, glancing back. The street was empty, just the wash of amber light from a lamppost and the distant hum of traffic. Yet his gut twisted. Jonathan’s warning replayed like a drumbeat.

 

 They already are.

 Ethan’s grip tightened on his backpack strap. He sped up. The footsteps sped up too.

Panic spiked. He darted into a side street, his heart pounding. The alley was narrow, shadowed, trash bins stacked along the walls. He pressed himself against the cold brick, breath sharp. For a moment, silence returned.

 Then, movement. A flicker of shadow at the far corner. Someone was following him. Watching him.

 The System pulsed urgently.

 [Alert: Unknown presence detected. Recommend caution.]

 Another option materialized across his vision.

 [Mission Branch Triggered: Confront or Evade?]

 Ethan’s fists trembled, his throat dry.

 He wasn’t ready. His muscles still burned from the gym, his arms heavy, his lungs weak. Whoever or whatever was behind him, he doubted he stood a chance.

 

 But if he ran, would that make him prey forever?

 His pulse hammered in his ears. Two options. Neither safe. Neither easy.

 

 He swallowed hard, eyes darting between the shadows ahead and the faint glow of the System’s words.

 For the first time, he wasn’t sure which terrified him more.

 facing the shadow stalking him… or discovering just how unprepared he truly was.