There was a room that was filled with nighttime darkness.

Cold gusts of winds that were born from Nyx and tempered by moonlight were finding it difficult to enter a young man’s bedroom through almost shut windows.

Even so, these untamed winds did not yield to their obstruction. They went through the slits of windows, creating lowkey howling sounds in the process.

The only occupant of the room seemed too occupied with his current situation to care about the windy night. He was in a peculiar state– lying on his back with his eyes closed.

His heartbeats were erratic. His breaths were uneven. And he seemed to be caught in some kind of Sleep Paralysis. Where he knew he was watching the dreams. Yet he couldn’t do anything to stop seeing them. He was unable to move a muscle as various thoughts and memories whirled around in his head like a giant typhoon.

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“Defeat is a state of mind. Nobody is ever defeated until defeat has been accepted as the reality.”

…

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“Do not pray for an easy life, pray for the strength to endure a difficult one.”

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“The successful warrior is an average man with laser-like focus.”

Some memories could be put into words. Because they were verbal. Other memories were of martial arts and weapon arts that could only be described by actions.

And not all of them belong to the ego known as Bruce Lee alone. Some of the memories were just ordinary mortals performing extraordinary feats. And some memories even belonged to the rankers who were practicing spells for the first time.

One had to say the creator had predicted who would have access to these memories. So he had only compiled those memories which suited his inheritor. Memories that could be used by someone who was either a non-ranker or someone who had just broken through into official rank.

Muscle memories.

Sensory memories.

Procedural memories.

Semantic memories.

Long-term memories.

All kinds of memories were getting absorbed by Eren while he was suffering from Sleep Paralysis. A mark appeared over the back of his right hand as he was processing the compendium of so many memories originating from various sources. The same one he had used to perform a handshake with Bruce.

This was a mark of a golden egg. The creator of this compendium of memories seemed hell-bent on highlighting the term Easter Egg it seemed. The mark of the golden egg disappeared after some time, making one wonder if it was real or not.

***

“Fuuuuuu*ck!”

Eren cursed out aloud as he woke up from his bed. He massaged his temples with both his hands and thought about what had happened to him last night. He did it while still sleeping on his back.

Only after confirming that he wouldn’t fall due to sudden nausea did he get up and sit upright on his bed. He wasn’t aware when he had drifted off to sleep after processing so many memories. But it shouldn’t have been more than a couple of hours.

“Hm? Fuck. Duty calls.”

Eren looked at the clock and cursed out once again. It was near 7 AM. He needed to get back to his job.

Eren got up and felt something had changed about him. But he couldn’t put a finger on what. He felt like he was in more control of his bodily movements than he ever was.

He was still as weak as before. He did not appear to have enhanced muscle definitions. But he felt like he could draw the maximum amount of power from his muscles while remaining lean.

It was a blade that looked harmless because it was completely sheathed under the facade of insignificant.

‘Fu*k. The creator guy was crazy. He filled my brain with too much nonsense. Now I’m getting weird ideas in my head that are nowhere related to the rankers’ path.’

Eren said to himself as he started walking to take the shower. He did it while having a smile on his face. That’s because, amid those sparse references that he had termed useless, there were other experiences and memories that he could make full use of during his workout regime and training.

There was also a memory of someone of his element and nature entering official rank. Eren had a few spells he could use if and when he had his mana core. Only if he had the mana core now, he could have tested these spells.

How long would it take for Eren to enter official ranks though? The hustler could only hope it wouldn’t take too long. His patience was running out.

***

Another day. Another grind.

Eren had finished his workout session and was heading home alone. Just like last time, he had told Reec to go ahead. He had stayed for around an hour and a half in the gym, making sure his body was completely exhausted before leaving the guild premises.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

Eren drank another post-workout mana-induced drink as he walked on the barren streets. In the next moment, he felt the mana getting spurred in his body and his muscles getting rejuvenated from fatigue.

‘Totally worth it.’

Eren chuckled as he crushed the can of the mana-infused drink and felt its rejuvenating effects. He was almost back to his pre-workout state because of this drink.

In this workout, Eren used a lot more tactics than the last. Instead of focusing on the exercises, he had started paying equal attention to a warm-up.

After the warmup was over, Eren did more than he did last time. Then he started diversifying his workout instead of focusing on a single muscle group. This way, his entire body would feel the burn of his workout. He had dared to do this because of the mana-infused supplements he had.

In Eren’s case, he wouldn’t have used the drink and would have let his body recover naturally. But now he wanted to run instead of taking a gyro cab home. He needed stamina and endurance to run for a long stretch like that.

‘Seek and ye shall find.

The consciousness of self is the greatest hindrance to the proper execution of all physical action.’

While stretching his legs, Eren motivated himself. He was pumped up for the long run he was about to have. He needed to go for a long run to forget about his miseries. A completely mindless exercise that would help one become mindful of many things.

Too bad, his fate had other plans.

Stan, Jayce, and Ralph were following him from a distance. Waiting for the right opportunity to get back at him for the stunt he had pulled on them.

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