Physical Exercise

Now settled in the dorm room he found using the borrowed memories of this body, Ethan was left with his own thoughts. The room was a simple one - a narrow bed pushed against one wall, a small wooden desk, and a washbasin with a mirror hung above it. It was in that mirror he found himself staring, tracing the familiar features on the stranger's face.

There he was - Ethan Turner - a reflection identical to the man he was back on earth. He scrutinized every line, every curve, finding an uncanny resemblance that shook him to his core.

"Could it be... the multiverse?" he mused aloud, the echo of his voice in the room giving credence to his ponderings.

He remembered the theories of his time, the various conjectures scientists had made about the existence of multiple realities. Each one was a universe of its own, unique and different, yet linked in an endless cosmic web.

"Yes...that could be it," he murmured, his reflection mirroring his speculative gaze. The realization was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. He was alone in a parallel universe, armed only with his intelligence and a powerful system that was still an enigma.

"But what does it mean for me?" he questioned his reflection, knowing he was treading a path no one before him ever had. "What is my place in this world?"

These questions, like the enigmatic system, remained a mystery. One that Ethan was determined to unravel. For now, though, he had more pressing matters to deal with - survival.

Resting on his bed, Ethan mulled over the workings of a long-barreled rifle, dissecting the mechanics behind each component. Suddenly, his room was filled with his voice as he started speaking, narrating his thoughts to the system.

"The magazine," he started, his eyes closed in concentration, "an intricate device for storage and feeding. Then, the barrel, where the bullet begins its journey."

He continued his narration, describing every part in detail. "The pin and the pistol grip are critical to operation... The selector provides the user with a choice, while the handguard ensures safety. The bayonet hook, a reminder of times when every round mattered."

He delved into the formation of bullets. "Now, let's start with rubber bullets, ideal for self-defense due to their non-lethal nature."

As he spoke, he could feel the system's attention on him. A moment later, he saw a rubber bullet materialize in front of him. Smiling, he moved on.

"Next, hollow-point bullets. They cause significant damage upon impact."

Again, a bullet appeared before him, this one deadly. His smile grew wider, and he spoke again.

"And finally, live bullets - the most lethal."

As the final bullet formed, he chuckled softly. "Now that's more like it," he said, reaching out to pick up one of the bullets. "With these, I'm one step closer to survival."

Ethan slumped onto his bed, exhaustion rolling off him in waves. He was soaked with sweat, his breath ragged and his muscles ached from the effort of manifesting two hundred bullets. Realizing his limits, he queried the system, his voice resonating in the silent room, "How do I increase my strength limit?"

A mechanical voice echoed in his mind, providing two options. "One, cultivate your internal power. Two, physically enhance your strength through exercise."

Ethan pondered this. Internal power was an unfamiliar concept to him, it seemed to belong more to the world of martial arts, an area he still had much to learn about. Physical exercise, on the other hand, was straightforward, a path he was well-acquainted with. The system seemed to sense his hesitation.

"For now," the voice continued, "physical training would be more beneficial."

Without wasting another second, Ethan got up from the bed, determination hardening his features. He donned his training attire and darted out of his dorm room, heading straight for the school field.

Underneath the twilight sky, Ethan pounded along the track, his feet hitting the ground in rhythm with his racing heart. His mind was focused on the singular goal of pushing his limits. The hours blurred into a montage of sweat, pain, and relentless determination. The field transformed into his battleground, a place where he'd wage a war against his own limitations.

Ethan's labored breaths echoed across the empty field, punctuating the stillness of the night. As exhaustion tugged at him, a smile of satisfaction tugged at the corners of his lips. He was pushing his boundaries, charting a course into the unknown, all in a quest for strength.

From the windows of dormitories and classrooms, pairs of eyes watched the solitary figure darting across the school field under the moonlight. Whispers began to circulate, carried on the wings of the night breeze.

"Do you see that? It's Ethan," a student named Darren said, looking out from his dorm room, an incredulous look on his face. His roommate, Vince, joined him at the window, squinting into the darkness.

"Is he training?" Vince asked, disbelief lacing his words. "At this hour?"

The sight of Ethan's relentless training session sent ripples of surprise through the watching students. In the dimly lit hallways, whispers grew louder, questions more urgent.

"Why is he doing this?" a girl asked her friend as they peered out a classroom window. "Does he really think he can become a martial artist just by running around?"

In the common room, a group of students laughed as someone mimicked Ethan's dogged determination, running in circles with exaggerated movements.

"Look at me, I'm Ethan," the boy mocked, "Training at night because I think I'm a big deal now. Watch out, I might trip over my own feet and take out half the academy."

Laughter echoed around the room, but through it all, Ethan continued to push himself, oblivious to the growing amusement at his expense. The whispers continued, turning into rumors.

"He's overconfident," one student muttered, "Thinks he's something special because he got lucky and took out those three guys."

And so, as the moon continued its journey across the sky, the students whispered, chuckled, and scoffed. All the while, Ethan ran on, his determination unwavering under the weight of their words.