Chapter 4: Foundations of Strength

The sun peeked over the horizon, casting a warm glow over New York City. The orange hues painted the skyscrapers, giving the bustling metropolis a brief moment of serenity before the chaos of the day began. Alexander Reid sat on the balcony of his penthouse apartment, a cup of coffee in hand. The steam curled upward, mixing with the crisp morning air. He took a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through him, though it did little to dull the ache that lingered in his body. His ribs throbbed with every breath, his knuckles were raw and split, and his muscles burned from exertion.

But the pain was a reminder. A reminder that he was alive. A reminder that he was progressing.

His eyes scanned the city below. Cars rushed through the streets, honking impatiently at each other. People hurried to their jobs, clutching briefcases and coffee cups, all unaware of the shadows that lurked around them. Unaware that, soon, Iron Man would emerge, and their world would never be the same. Alexander knew he had time to prepare—but not much.

He brought up his status window with a thought, the translucent screen appearing before him with a faint shimmer.

[Name: Alexander Reid]

[Level: 2]

[Class: Shadow Monarch]

[HP: 120/120]

[MP: 60/60]

[Strength: 15]

[Agility: 14]

[Intelligence: 11]

[Endurance: 12]

[Skills: Shadow Extraction (Locked), Shadow Storage (Locked), Monarch's Domain (Locked)]

He stared at the numbers, his mind calculating his next steps. He was stronger than when he arrived, but he knew it wasn't enough. Not even close. He needed to level up faster. He needed more experience, more fights. This world was not kind to the weak. He had the advantage of knowledge, but knowledge alone wouldn't stop a bullet or a god.

The problem was finding enemies that would challenge him without getting himself killed. He was no superhero. He had no armor, no healing factor. A single bullet could end his journey before it even began.

A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He tensed, his heart rate spiking momentarily before he reminded himself that this was still the beginning. He wasn't famous. Not yet. He stood and made his way to the door, his hand pausing on the handle for a moment before he opened it cautiously.

A young woman stood there, wearing a professional suit and holding a tablet. Her blonde hair was neatly tied back, and she exuded efficiency and confidence. "Mr. Reid?" she asked with a polite smile.

Alexander nodded. "Yes?"

"I'm Amanda from Reid Financial. Your late father's company. We wanted to check in and see if you required any updates on your accounts or investments." Her tone was professional, but there was a faint hint of curiosity in her eyes. The younger Reid had been a recluse after his parents' deaths.

Right. His inherited wealth. He had nearly forgotten. "No, everything is fine. Thank you, Amanda."

She nodded and handed him a business card. "If you need anything, feel free to contact me."

He accepted the card, studying it briefly before tucking it into his pocket. After she left, Alexander closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. The money he had inherited would keep him comfortable for now, but he knew that power in this world was far more valuable than wealth. When gods descended from the skies, and aliens tore cities apart, no amount of money would protect him. Only strength would.

Later that day, he made his way to a gym he had found online. The place was relatively small compared to the high-end gyms his wealth could afford, but that was precisely why he chose it. Fewer eyes. Fewer questions. He preferred to work in the shadows.

The air inside smelled of sweat and metal. The faint echoes of punches landing on heavy bags and the rhythmic clinking of weights filled his ears. If he was going to survive fights, he needed to refine his combat skills. The gym was nearly empty, a blessing in disguise. He paid for a membership and headed to the training area.

He started with the basics—punching bags, bodyweight exercises. His increased Strength and Agility were noticeable. Each punch landed with more force than he had expected, and his movements felt sharper, faster. Still, his technique was sloppy. Power without precision was wasted.

A man, likely in his late 30s, with a muscular build, observed him from a distance. His arms were crossed, his gaze critical. After a while, he approached.

"You've got power, but your form is all over the place," the man said with a grin. "I'm Marcus. I teach boxing here if you're interested."

Alexander considered it for a moment before nodding. "I could use the help."

The next hour was grueling. Marcus corrected his stance, his punches, his footwork. Every mistake was met with a swift critique. "Too stiff. Loosen up." "Keep your guard up. You drop it, you get knocked out." "Footwork, kid. You need to dance, not stomp."

By the end, Alexander was drenched in sweat, his muscles screaming in protest. But he felt sharper—more capable. His body was adapting.

"You've got potential, kid. Keep coming back, and you'll be a monster in no time," Marcus said, patting him on the back with a grin.

Alexander smiled, wiping sweat from his brow. He was building a foundation. Brick by brick.

That night, he returned home and brought up the system.

[New Task: Defeat 5 Hostile Beings. Reward: 200 Experience Points.]

The familiar rush of excitement stirred within him. He was growing stronger. Every day, every fight, he was carving his path in this dangerous world.

He smirked as he closed the system window. "Let's see what the shadows hold for me tonight."

The city awaited.

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