Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1513 System Thinking: The System Decides to Uphold Justice!
The shockingly low zeros after the four tasks, and the glaring "0" in the push-up exercise, were like four heavy mountains, squeezing out all the strength he had to lift a finger.

My vision began to blur, and sweat streamed into my eyes, bringing a gritty, stinging sensation.

Give up... The thought of giving up once again coiled around his drowsy consciousness like a tempting venomous snake.

Punishment? Well, if it's unknown, then it's unknown... Maybe just a stronger electric shock?
Or should we just strip this damn "hero" identity?
That would actually be a relief...

Just as her will was about to completely collapse, Komachi's face appeared once again with unparalleled clarity.

This time, it wasn't just worry, but also the sight of her rubbing her eyes in the early morning, wearing that slightly worn apron, clumsily busy in the kitchen.

White steam rose from the pot, blurring her focused profile. He could almost smell the unique, warm, salty aroma of miso soup… even though it was always a little too salty.

"...Damn system..."

Hachiman Hikigaya squeezed out a few broken syllables through his clenched teeth, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper were being rubbed.

He took a deep breath, the smell of which was thick with the metallic tang of blood (it was unclear whether it was from biting his gums or tearing his throat).

Then, with the last bit of strength from the depths of his soul, he bent his trembling arms and supported them on either side of his body, his elbows groaning as if they were rusty hinges, unable to bear the weight.

My body felt as heavy as a mountain.

He mobilized every muscle fiber he could still feel—his trembling pectoral muscles, burning deltoids, aching triceps, and even his core, squeezing out the last bit of strength that might exist in his waist and abdomen.

Every bone in his body was groaning in pain, like a broken-down machine about to fall apart.

One inch, just one inch.

He braced himself, resisting the weight of his entire body and the overwhelming torrent of exhaustion, and very slowly, tremblingly, pressed his body downwards.

The trembling in his arms grew more and more intense, like a candle flickering in the wind.

Just as his body was about to slam completely onto the floor again, he used an almost instinctive, beast-like will to tense up all the muscles that were about to collapse!
With utmost difficulty, he managed to lift his body up by a tiny, insignificant sliver.

Sweat, thick and cold sweat, mixed with years of dust on the floor, clung to Hachiman Hikigaya's eyes like a layer of murky oil.

He had just completed one—if his contorted, trembling, almost collapsing posture could still be called a "push-up"—when, as if all his bones had been removed, he slammed heavily back onto the cold floor with a "thud."

His cheeks were pressed against the rough particles, and each rapid breath stirred up fine dust, making his throat itch, but he couldn't even muster the strength to cough.

The lungs are like a dilapidated bellows riddled with holes. Every difficult breath is accompanied by a burning pain and a sharp wheezing sound, as if sandpaper is rubbing against the inner wall of the trachea.

The edges of my vision began to blur and darken, spreading rapidly like ink dripping into clear water. My consciousness teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, each heartbeat heavy as if tolling a death knell.

However, in the heart of this boundless desert of despair, a faint glimmer of light—or rather, the ticking of a cold number—stubbornly persists.

Push-ups: 1/1000

The crimson countdown still relentlessly hovered in the corner of his vision, silently and coldly pulsating, mocking his incompetence.

He moved the only part of his body he could still barely feel—the tip of his right index finger. It weakly scratched at the rough surface of the floor, making a faint but grating "scratching" sound, which almost exhausted all his remaining willpower.

water…

He needs water.

His throat was parched as if he had been exposed to the scorching sun in the desert for three days and three nights. Every swallow was accompanied by a sharp, stinging pain, like forcing down a burning coal. Even worse, an unprecedented, bone-deep hunger, like a long-dormant beast suddenly awakened, gripped his already empty stomach tightly.

The hunger was so fierce and primal that it briefly overwhelmed the tearing pain in my muscles and the burning sensation in my lungs.

His stomach spasmed, emitting a dull, long gurgling sound, like the echo of an ancient well. In the deathly silent room, where only his heavy breathing and the ticking of the countdown could be heard (though silent, he could almost hear it), it sounded particularly clear and desolate.

"Brave..."

Hachiman Hikigaya buried his face deeper into the grime of sweat and dust, spitting out indistinct, self-deprecating, and desperate murmurs between his teeth, "...So...they don't provide meals..."

The cold fangs of reality once again easily pierced through the supernatural and absurd cloak that enveloped him, called "System" and "Hero," and bit down hard on his most primal and vulnerable physiological needs.

The moonlight outside the window seemed to shift slightly with the passage of time, dividing the small room into two distinct areas of light and shadow.

Dust swirled within the beam of light, yet it offered no warmth whatsoever.

The scarlet countdown, like the Sword of Damocles hanging overhead, continued to silently and coldly tick its final numbers.

3… 2… 1…

Countdown to zero.

Hachiman Hikigaya's consciousness sank completely into a chaotic grayness.

That's it. That's it.

He couldn't even lift a finger, let alone complete the remaining nine hundred and ninety-nine impossible push-ups.

punish?

Whatever, as long as this damn pain stops...

[Under systems thinking...]

The cold, emotionless words were directly imprinted deep within his mind.

[Judgment: The brave individual has weak willpower and severely inadequate physical capabilities, making them unable to complete the basic adaptive training.]

Threat Assessment: This state is incapable of responding to potential crises, and the probability of survival is below the minimum threshold.

[Logical chain: Enhancing survival ability is the primary goal. Forced adaptive stimulation is better than letting self-destruction occur.]

[Implementation Plan: Activate the emergency plan "Punishment and Survival Driven"].

The system has decided to uphold justice!

"justice?"

Just as a ridiculous thought surfaced in Hachiman Hikigaya's remaining consciousness, an irresistible, high-voltage-like force instantly pierced through his limbs and bones!
"Ugh—!"

A short cry of pain was swallowed back down his throat by his own teeth.

He watched in horror—no, he felt his body spring up from the ground like a marionette! Completely against the limits of his muscles and the groans of his joints. His lumbar spine creaked under the strain, as if it would break at any moment; sharp, needle-like pain shot through his knees and elbows.

(End of this chapter)