Complete the mission

[Congrats! Welcome to the Legendary Boxing System, host. Your journey begins now. 1st mission loading…wait.]

Pedri groaned, rubbing his head as the voice echoed in his mind. The little pain from his recent beating lingered, but it felt like his body was trying to erase the memory.

"What now?" he muttered, staring into the dark sky above. "A system? Missions? What kind of twisted circus have I woken up in?"

[Ding! Mission: Join any boxing club within Irish City and vacate Fiari Street. Reward: Unlock Novice Boxing Skills. Bonus rewards editing...]

Pedri frowned. "Vacate Fiari Street? What's wrong with Fiari? It's cozy... okay, not cozy, but it's mine! You can't just tell a guy to leave his home. Have you seen the rent in Irish City? I'd have to sell a kidney to afford a studio apartment!"

[The host has nothing to worry about except completing the task. Other concerns will be addressed upon mission completion. Period.]

"Oh, sure, just 'complete the mission.' Like I'm some kind of video game character. What happens if I don't? You gonna delete me? Turn me into a digital ghost?"

[Failure to complete the mission within 48 hours will result in system deactivation.]

Pedri blinked. "Deactivation? You act like I signed up for this nonsense! You popped into my head without so much as a 'hello!' If anyone should be deactivating anyone, it's me deactivating you!"

[Mission timer: 47:59:59 remaining.]

A glowing stopwatch appeared in front of Pedri, ticking ominously. He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Great. Now I have a talking stopwatch judging my life choices."

Testing his legs, he realized the strange warmth coursing through his body had done wonders. He was still sore, but he could move. "Fine, system," he said reluctantly. "Let's see where this rabbit hole leads."

[Ding! The host is not fully recovered. Light exercises are required to restore 100% fitness. Please follow the virtual instructions.]

Pedri squinted at the glowing prompt. "You're seriously asking me to do exercises right now? I just got beyond this, right? Anyway I won't meant to offend."

[Concentrate and focus.]

Before Pedri could argue, a sudden jolt of energy shot through him. He yelped, clutching his sides as a wave of pins and needles spread through his body.

[Begin three minutes of push-ups, followed by five minutes of jogging. Timer begins now.]

Pedri stared at the ground, his stomach growling loudly.' I'm starving', he thought bitterly.

[Hunger is irrelevant for now. Complete the task. Timer is running.]

"Fine, fine!" Pedri dropped into position, muttering under his breath. "Push-ups with no breakfast. Sure. Why not just throw in some burpees while you're at it?"

He managed a steady rhythm, grunting with every push-up. His muscles protested, but he refused to stop. "One... two... three... why am I even counting? It's not like I have an audience."

By the time he finished the push-ups and moved on to jogging, Pedri was drenched in sweat. His legs felt like jelly, but something strange happened. The pain in his body started to fade, replaced by a sense of clarity.

[Congratulations! Recovery is complete. The host is now 100% fit. Proceed to rest for the day.]

Pedri collapsed onto a nearby bench, panting heavily. "You could've just let me sleep this off," he muttered. "But no, you had to play drill sergeant."

Without minding where Pedri had slept, the next day, Irish City greeted Pedri with its usual chaotic charm. Towering skyscrapers sparkled in the sunlight, their glass exteriors reflecting the city's hustle and bustle. Vendors lined the sidewalks, hawking everything from sizzling sausages to questionable electronics.

Pedri's stomach growled as he passed a food stall. The vendor, a cheerful man with a toothy grin, waved at him.

"Hey, champ! You look like you've been through a few rounds. Want a sausage? On the house for a future boxing legend!"

Pedri smirked. "Future legend, huh? What gave it away—the face or the fists?"

The vendor chuckled. "Both. Either you're a boxer, or you've got a terrible sense of direction in dark alleys."

Pedri laughed, though his empty stomach wasn't as amused. "I'll take a rain check. Thanks, though."

As he walked away, his eyes caught on a massive billboard advertising the upcoming National Boxing Tournament. His heart tightened as memories of his once-promising career resurfaced.

"Maybe someday," he whispered. Actually, he was walking aimlessly in search any camp to complete the mission of the so called system.

Pedri's search for a boxing club began with high hopes but quickly spiraled into a comedy of errors.

His first stop was the Elite Boxing Academy, a sleek facility that screamed wealth and exclusivity. The receptionist greeted him with a rehearsed smile that could cut glass.

"Welcome to Elite Boxing Academy. Do you have an appointment?"

"Uh… not exactly," Pedri replied, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm looking to join. I've got experience."

Her smile didn't falter. "Our programs are invitation-only and require an annual membership fee of $1,000. Do you have a referral?"

Pedri blinked. "A thousand dollars? For what? Does it come with a gold-plated punching bag?"

Her gaze flickered to his scuffed shoes. "Perhaps another club would be more… suitable."

Pedri left, muttering, "For a grand, I better get a personal butler and someone to hold the towel for me."

Next, he tried the Downtown Fighters Club, around two killometres from the Elite Academy, a gritty gym that smelled like stale beer and regret. The manager, a burly man with a cigar permanently wedged between his teeth, eyed Pedri skeptically.

"You got any trophies?" the manager asked.

"Trophies?" Pedri frowned. "I've got scars. Do those count?"

The manager snorted. "We don't need losers here. Try the knitting club down the street."

Pedri clenched his fists and uttered to himself. "Loser? I could knock out half your fighters with one arm tied behind my back!"

The manager laughed, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "Big talk, men! Come back when you've got proof."

He continued downwards the City, maneuvering the busy road with jams allover. Downwards, there was a old man that carried a laggage on his back.

Pedri hastened and catches up with the old man, "Hey old man? My name is Pedri, would you not mind I offer some help?"

The old man looked at Pedri, put down down the laggage and turned his attention to Pedri. "Who are you? Do you want to steal from me...keep off right away from or I scream for help."

Just with that, Pedri couldn't risk to encounter a mob justice due to his kindness. He turned away from the old man that had refused his help continued for his businesses of the day.

By the time Pedri stumbled upon the Community Gym Club (CGC), he was thoroughly exhausted. The small, unassuming building was a stark contrast to the flashy gyms he'd visited earlier.

If he wasn't lucky then Pedri was ready for what would happen. "I don't succeed hete, I terminate myself. I will summon that cracking voice and officially retire."

That one aside, inside, the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. Fighters of all skill levels trained together, offering encouragement and advice.

Pedri approached the coach, a middle-aged man with a whistle and a clipboard. "Excuse me, sir. I'm looking to join. I've got experience, and I'm willing to work hard."

The coach studied him for a moment, then extended a hand. "Name's Coach Jack. We're not fancy, but we're family. If you're serious, you're welcome here. What's your name?."

" Pedri Nicko." Relief flooded Pedri as he shook Jack's hand. "Thank you. I won't let you down."

Jack handed him a clipboard. "Sign here. Training starts tomorrow at six sharp. Don't be late."

Pedri nodded eagerly, but Jack gave him a once-over, frowning slightly. "Eat something before you show up tomorrow. You look like you're one bad punch away from a coma."

Pedri chuckled awkwardly. "Noted." He remained concise in his response showing up his communication skills though be cut off from school at a Junior grade level bh the unforyunes that rendered in his life.

As Pedri left the gym, a renewed sense of purpose filled him. He had taken the first step toward reclaiming his destiny.

[Ding! Mission Complete. Reward: Novice Boxing Skills unlocked.]

A sudden wave of energy surged through Pedri, and he staggered, gripping a lamppost for balance. His mind flooded with knowledge—punching techniques, footwork drills, defensive maneuvers.

"Whoaaa," he muttered, shaking his head. "This system might not be so bad after all."

As he passed the WhiteHouse Hotel, his stomach growled louder than ever. Just as he considered begging for scraps, a new prompt materialized before him.

[Ding! System Function Unlocked: Loan Feature Available. Check your profile to determine eligibility.]

Pedri's eyes widened as he scanned the virtual display. A grin spread across his face. "A loan? What's my limit?"

When he saw the amount, he clutched his head in disbelief, a laugh escaping him. For the first time in days, he felt hope.

[Ding! The Host has to own an active Bank account the loan will be deposited from the system.]

Pedri, remained confused seeing this with his hand on the head, his mouth wide open as if crying. "What's the hell now? Someone help ooh...Heeeelp?"