Jones stood in the center of the training hall, legs slightly apart, arms hanging stiffly by his sides.
The room itself was massive—steel floors reinforced with glowing blue grid lines, walls layered with thick alloy plating, and floating holographic panels that tracked every movement, every imbalance, every mistake. Soft mechanical hums echoed constantly, as if the building itself was alive and watching him.
And right now, it was judging him.
"Move."
Commander Derick's voice cut through the hall, calm but heavy with authority.
Jones tried.
He shifted his weight forward, intending to take a simple step—but his body responded a second too late. The movement felt wrong. His balance tilted, joints overcorrected, and before he could react, his foot caught awkwardly against the floor.
He stumbled.
Hard.
Jones barely managed to stop himself from faceplanting, catching his balance at the last second with an unsteady hand pressed against the ground.
"…Tch."
Derick didn't laugh. That somehow made it worse.
"You see the problem?" Derick asked, arms crossed as he observed Jones like a faulty weapon on inspection.
Jones straightened slowly, his movements rigid.
"My body feels… faster than my mind," he said. "Like it doesn't wait for permission."
"That's exactly it," Derick replied. "Your nervous system, muscle density, and reaction speed have all been enhanced. But your instincts?" He shook his head. "Still human. Still untrained."
Jones clenched his fists.
So this was the price.
Power without control.
Derick stepped closer, boots echoing against the metal floor.
"Pros first," Derick continued. "Your strength output is several times higher than a normal human. You heal faster. Your reflex ceiling is absurdly high."
His silver eyes narrowed.
"Cons? One wrong move, and you'll tear your own muscles apart or shatter your balance mid-combat."
Jones swallowed.
On the battlefield, hesitation meant death.But now… moving too fast could kill him just as easily.
"I won't sugarcoat it," Derick went on. "Right now, you're a danger—to yourself and to anyone standing near you."
Jones lowered his gaze, staring at his hands. They didn't look different. Still scarred. Still familiar.
And yet they felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else.
I survived… just to become useless again?
Derick seemed to read his thoughts.
"You're not useless," he said firmly. "You're unfinished."
Silence followed.
Then Derick turned and walked toward a console at the edge of the hall. With a few inputs, the grid lines on the floor began to glow brighter.
"Today, we forget combat," Derick said. "Forget weapons. Forget enemies."
He turned back to Jones.
"We start with walking."
Jones blinked.
"Walking?"
"Yes. Walking."
Derick stepped onto the grid.
"One step. Controlled. Measured. You don't move faster than your mind can follow. If you rush, you fail."
Jones hesitated, then nodded.
He positioned himself the same way Derick had and inhaled slowly.
One step. That's it.
He lifted his foot—careful this time—and set it down with intention. The motion felt unnatural, like forcing himself to move underwater. His muscles resisted, eager to explode forward, but he fought the urge.
The holographic panels flickered.
Balance: unstable.Coordination: improving.
Jones exhaled.
He took another step.
Then another.
Each movement burned—not physically, but mentally. It took everything he had to restrain his own body, to stop it from overshooting every command.
Minutes passed.
Then hours.
Sweat dripped down his face even though his enhanced body barely showed signs of fatigue. His mind, however, felt like it was on fire.
Finally, his foot landed wrong again.
Jones lost balance and hit the floor, the breath knocked from his lungs.
He lay there, staring up at the ceiling lights.
"…Damn it."
Derick looked down at him.
"Good."
Jones turned his head slightly.
"Good?"
"You failed because you pushed yourself," Derick said. "That means you're learning where your limits are."
Derick extended a hand.
Jones hesitated only a second before taking it. The grip was firm—unshakable.
"This training won't get easier," Derick said as he pulled him to his feet. "We'll increase difficulty. Speed. Weight. Resistance."
His gaze sharpened.
"But only after you master the basics."
Jones steadied himself, feet planted firmly this time.
"I'll learn," he said quietly. "No matter how long it takes."
Derick gave a small, approving nod.
"That's good," he said. "Because tomorrow—"
He turned back toward the console, already adjusting settings.
"—we make it harder."
Jones looked at the glowing floor ahead of him, heart pounding—not with fear, but resolve.
I won't waste this second chance.
And for the first time since waking up in this new body, Jones took a step forward that felt… right.