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Alex woke with a dissonant gasp, practically springing out of bed as his body woke up all at once.
He was up and standing before he’d more than thought of getting up, the power flowing through him intoxicating in its ready surge.
It truly felt like he’d somehow shed weighted clothing or taken a shot of espresso or adrenaline, or… something.
The bottoms of his feet felt vaguely sore, but the sensation was actively fading so he set it aside for now.
He glanced toward Bev, intending to ask how long he had been out, but he was suddenly very aware that she was a very beautiful woman, and that the sci-fi outfit was designed for a different modesty standard than he was used to.
He looked away, his face flushing, but he still remembered to pull power from his throat before he cleared it. “How long this time?”
He sensed her smile more than he saw it. “Only about five minutes this time. Something in your mind triggered a flight into unconsciousness, but it only lasted until the procedure ended.” She then gave a light chuckle. “Your hormones will feel like they were kicked into overdrive, but in truth, the production, distribution, and absorption has simply had restrictions and blockages removed. As humans age—assuming a lack of magic, or considerable age with its presence—all of those processes are weighed down in one way or another, and those weights are gone now. Don’t do anything rash, and you’ll get used to it in a day or so.”
He nodded, still not looking her way. “Understood.”
He felt the need to move, and so he twisted and stretched and thereby noticed an absence.
Alex had been driving a bus full of increasingly grumpy passengers, prone to complain at more and more ridiculous things. Now? They were silent.
More than that, the passengers all seemed eager for the journey to come, ready to help him if they could.
Huh… maybe I really was starting to get old or at least older. He huffed a laugh at that, thinking of the men he’d occasionally grabbed coffee with.
They were in their seventies or eighties, and that had likely contributed to his own view of himself as ‘young.’
Still, in his stretches, he found very little stiffness, and what was there fled before the slightest attention.
In truth, he felt positively springy.
He ran his hands over his head and was a bit irritated to find it entirely bald, but the hair would grow back.
His skin felt… more elastic? Yeah, that was it.
It moved easier, and felt a bit softer.
As he smiled, he could still feel his crow’s feet—or smile lines—and actually found himself grateful that he hadn’t lost all signs of age. Well, I also had flecks of gray in my hair starting at twenty-five, so that should come back at least a little.
He’d lost quite a bit of weight in the zombie tutorial scenario, and while he’d looked rather trim, he’d felt the sagging skin that was taking quite a long time to tighten, exactly as made sense for his age. Now, it was tight and firm everywhere.
Make no mistake, Alex was still not built like an athlete, but he was quite a bit fitter than the ‘dad-bod’ he’d had when this whole madness had kicked off.
As he’d noticed before losing consciousness, his vision and hearing were both crisper and clearer in ways that he hadn’t even noticed losing before.
He took a long, deep breath, feeling the breath truly pervade his lungs, reveling in the sensation. “Oh, I could get used to this.”
Bev chuckled. “I do miss this reaction from my days as an Academy Medic. Keep your elevated drives in mind, and again, don’t make any long-lasting, personal decisions for the next few days, and you’ll settle out.”
Alex nodded, grinning.
He twisted again, glorying in the feel of the movement, his kinesthetic skill joining his conscious mind in guiding his motions. My body just works better and doesn't hurt as much. This… this is simply awesome.
If any of those supposed ‘anti-aging’ techniques of the rich and famous actually worked even half this well pre-System, he might begin to understand some—
No. He cut off that line of thinking as ridiculous.
He had his body back. He’d dropped tax-brackets no longer having a low-grade, constant outlay that he had been paying for a decade.
This… this was going to be fun.
He started to bow, then lifted his hand toward Bev to shake hers, then stopped. “How… How can I say thank you?”
Bev gave him an odd look, then executed a slight bow. “No thanks is necessary. Have you really never bowed or shaken someone’s hand before?”
So, either is acceptable. His refreshed mind quickly gave him a response. “Of course I have. I more meant… This is incredible. How can I properly thank you?”
“Ahh.” She nodded. “That makes sense, but think nothing of it. It’s my job, and it’s been my pleasure.” She sighed then. “Though, I doubt I’ll be seeing very much of you going forward.”
He chuckled in return. “At least not in a professional capacity, I would hope. It has been a pleasure. Thank you.”
They exchanged bows, and he departed, sending a message to Juba that he was ready for a match, and practically hopping from foot to foot and leaning forward, up on his toes the whole way to the cargo bay.
Juba was already there when Alex arrived, and they exchanged pleasantries as Alex grabbed a training dadao off the rack. Right… I need to fix my equipment…
But that would be for later.
The muscular dark-skinned man gave a ready smile. “I can see you copied my aesthetic.” He ran his hand over his bald head. “You know, a lack of hair really isn’t a source of power.”
Alex snorted a laugh. “I know. Bio-clean-up.”
“Really?” The man’s eyes widened in surprise. “You didn’t have that done at the academy?”
“Nope.”
Juba grunted. “And here I thought you must be ancient to look as you did. It turns out you just had an old soul.”
Alex gave him a flat look.
“And you were too lazy to visit the Academy Medicum.”
He laughed again. “Fine, fine. I’ll take the mocking.” He hopped from foot to foot. “I feel fantastic.”
Juba grinned. “Are you ready to fight once more?”
Alex nodded, trying to sink into his various skills, letting their knowledge and instincts fill him, become his own.
His sense was ready to warn him of danger and give him hints at what might be in his blind spots, his advanced kinesthetics helped him move his body into a fighting stance despite the changes, and his great-blades initiate skill fed him that stance to begin with, the training weapon in his hand feeling right.
The weapon fit his hands well, and that thought reminded him. Right! My shield.
Alex pulled out his arm-shield, already strapped tightly in place to leave his left hand free to continue gripping the heavy bladed weapon along with his right.
Juba paused his advance, taking in the shield with curiosity. “That’s new.”
Alex gave a sheepish smile. “Well… only a little. I forget about it alot.”
“That’s not good, my friend. Tools are meant to be used, not forgotten.”
Alex nodded in concession.
Juba shrugged then, pulling out a shield of his own from some sort of storage, adding it the brutal ax in his other hand.
“You’re changing up your armaments too?”
The man smiled brilliantly. “Of course! I need to master many forms of combat, so I know how to combat them all.”
Alex chuckled at that but didn’t let himself be distracted.
Juba came in with a probing chop, and Alex let go of his sword with his left hand to punch the pointed tip at the attacking arm.
At the same time, he floated his left foot forward, ready to add his full weight behind a hit, if it landed.
Juba redirected his own swing with grace, using a powerful roll of the wrist to bring it around in a new arc of attack.
And Alex was in it then, unable to focus on the minutia and simply letting his skills and body react.
In the past, his skills had always felt like they were pulling him along, bringing him closer to the ideal of what they were capable of, hoping he could eventually push them further. He’d only managed to push their boundaries on occasion, earning various upgrades, but he’d never felt like he was united with the skill.
Now? His body moved.
It wasn’t as if he were taken over or controlled. Instead, it was like he had an extra instant to process what was coming—along with what his skills suggested—making the choices and beginning to act before the next instant arrived and the landscape of combat shifted yet again.
Moreover, even with the rapid shifts, his body was actually able to keep up with his sharpened mind. His muscles fired faster, his joints moved more smoothly, his bones placidly taking all the push and pull provided.
It was a joy to feel his stress awareness skill simply return a pleasant awareness non-issue when he included it within his mental focus.
The sound of wood on wood and magically dulled steel on wood filled the large room as the two men fought.
It was clear from the beginning that Alex was the less skilled fighter, and not by a small margin, but he knew enough—and was now capable enough—to delay that inevitable conclusion in each clash.
The process reminded him of playing chess with his grandfather.
In the beginning, the older man had ruthlessly beaten Alex with four or five move quick-wins, utterly dominating Alex as a child.
Alex had been stubborn and kept at it, eventually learning how to block or counter each of those quicker tactics, and at that point, the games had started to take longer despite the conclusion not changing.
What had changed was that Alex finally had the space to try and to learn.
It was a brutal way to teach but an effective one, at least for him.
That’s where Alex was now with Juba. He could shut down the most obvious openings, combinations, and means by which the man could claim near-instant victory, and that turned their fight into an intricate back and forth where the more experienced fighter picked away at his defenses, and Alex strove to gain every bit of experience that he could.
As Juba wasn’t perfect, Alex did occasionally gain the upper hand, but those times were few and far between.
Crack!
The ax found its way around Alex’s shield and landed heavily on his left shoulder, the blow sufficient to end that bout.
Juba stepped back, breathing hard and laughing. “You have been reborn, my friend! Good, good!” He laughed again. “Shall we go yet again?”
Alex in contrast was taking deep, measured breaths, his enhancements increasing his blood volume and red blood cell content to the point that he felt very well oxygenated.
He glanced at his wrist, checking the time, and his eye twitched. It had been three minutes since the man’s last victory, and less than twenty since they began.
“Yeah. I think we’ve got time.”
Juba reset to ten feet back. “One more with this weapon set, then I change. I’ve a few that I want to practice with, then we move to hand-to-hand?”
Alex gave a slow nod. “End with spells added in?”
Juba considered, then shrugged. “Yes, but hand-to-hand with spells. I think that will be an interesting exercise.”
Alex agreed. It was going to be a long hour, but he was looking forward to every minute of it.