"That is oddly specific," I commented after seeing my status.

  Not much I could say about what I was seeing; everything seemed to be alright. However, my interest was drawn to the intelligence and willpower attributes displayed on the screen. I couldn't recall ever being that smart at my age.

  "Is it because I'm assimilated with my future memory, who is also a champion, that my willpower and intelligence are like that?" I asked REN about it.

  That is correct, Host.

  REN replied in my head in a tone that was both mechanical and oddly comforting.

  "I see. So, what is this mission thing about?" I inquire – curiosity piqued.

  Just as I finished my question, the mission option was selected automatically, and the details appeared before me.

  Mission:

  1. Proper Rest

  The system has determined that the current Host has inadequate rest and has forced himself to work beyond his limits. It is recommended that the Host resigns from the job that exploits his time and strength.

  Reward: A calm mind, better life management, and a mystery gift.

  2. Look for a Fitting Energy Source to Refuel the System

  For better assistance from the system, it is recommended that the Host refill the entire energy level so that the system can initiate the self-repair program and assist the Host to a better degree.

  Reward: 1 free attribute and a mystery gift.

  - - - - - -

  "Hmmm, is this like a game or something?" I raise my eyebrows at the peculiarity of it all.

  It felt reminiscent of those litRPG novels I had once read before I buried myself in work, even selling the phone that I bought with the money I had secretly saved up for quite a long time, without my family having any knowledge about it.

  Based on the currently available data on Earth, the system had deemed it necessary to follow certain rules and regulations, where the directive to develop the Host had been created to maximize all parts of the current system's capability.

  "Oh… where did this mission idea come from?" I pondered aloud while rubbing my chin, my habit when I was the tactician under The Iron Legion.

  Loading…

  Access Granted…

  The answer is derived from Host memory.

  REN states, its voice devoid of emotion yet precise.

  Suddenly, fragments of memory flood back to me at that exact moment. In the past, when I had sustained my injuries and needed to stay in the hospital for prolonged hours, I managed to find a rare person I could comfortably call a friend – who taught me how to play a game.

  After being discharged from the hospital and having refused the subsequent surgery due to my inability to pay the bill – I maintained my habit of playing games.

  The game was a first-person shooter where players fought against aliens. In that game, an AI was integrated directly into the soldier's brain, assisting them in their daily lives and providing tactical guidance during battles.

  That game had been my escape from the stress of my personal life. The thought of it made me sigh in frustration. It felt like a blurry past that should have remained there, yet here I was, at the exact time when I was supposed to live in that twisted version of reality.

  I had a mixed feeling about this.

  Just around a year from now, I sustained an injury to my spinal cord from an accident, which resulted in a below-average integration percentage with the serum that had labeled me a failed Champion. Based on the health monitor and tests, the doctors had explained that this was likely due to incomplete neural integration, an unknown problem with my neuroplasticity, alongside various physiological limitations due to the injury I had in the past.

  The place of the accident was right here where I currently stayed.

  I worked as a temporary construction worker, trying to feed my insatiable family while treating myself like I was lower than a dog. To confirm my conjecture, I touch the side of my ribs.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Yep, I could feel it. I was damn skinny.

  I had always lived frugally, so much so that even my clothes were second-hand, given to me only when my brother no longer wanted them, or other shameless excuses like – not fancy anymore, or if they were looking old, cheap, and had some small tears here and there. Looking at my clothes, it indeed had some holes or messy sewed parts.

  Always fearful of eating more or drinking more – worried if I spend too much, while my pig of a father eating till his stomach bloated like a balloon, and so with my brother and sister who followed suit.

  Though, if I weren't wrong, my little sister, had become skinnier over the past three years, and the next year, she was set to marry someone.

  And where the hell had she gotten the money for the wedding when she had always been a spoiled brat, having everything taken care of by my money, relying wholly on my earnings and never saving a dime? Of course, the funds for her wedding still came from me.

  A month after my years of savings had been drained to help my younger sister, I sustained that injury when a wall fell heavily on my back while I was working. I had been lucky to be alive. Though part of me had died back then, it had resulted in so much resentment that I had almost given up on my own sanity.

  And that was the reason I couldn't pay the bill for my injury. Of course, there had been other ways, such as borrowing money from a loan shark.

  But at this time, when the economy was at a low point for everyone in the world, the harshest ever recorded in the year 2000 in history – especially after Earth had nearly faced its Third World War – those who turned to loan sharks usually ended up swallowed whole, with none of their bones even spitted out. It was a chasm of complete tragedy…

  Even moneylenders these days had a similar cruelty, charging exorbitant interest rates – just in a more subdued manner, without directly harming the borrower. However, the first time amounts they could lend were far too small to cover the surgery I needed for my spinal cord.

  * * *

  06.00 AM.

  Morning finally arrived, I stood up and dusted myself – after inspecting REN and all that could benefit me greatly for the last hour and a half.

  At the back of my mind though, there was still this gnawing uncertainty and suspicion as to what REN's true purpose really was. When I asked her directly about it, she denied me an answer, claiming I didn't have enough Authority Level.

  But oh well, thinking about it too much wouldn't give me an answer, would it? Besides, with what was about to happen to the future, REN could very well be the only chance for humans to have any chance against those bastard Aelor. I remember much too clear how helpless we were against those aliens.

  I also harbored a suspicion that those who attacked us, in the end, belonged to a different civilization than the Aelor. But that was merely speculation on my part. I wondered if REN had any insight into that part.

  Anyway, for today, I planned to tackle the first mission. Except for the mystery gift, the rewards didn't particularly excite me, and to be honest, it turned me off. What the hell was that calm mind about? Was it a mysterious magical game-like skill or something? Or was it just a good, positive regard from this advanced AI-like?

  Because even without the mission, I surely would resign from this job. There was no way I would continue to abuse myself after knowing what awaited humanity in the future, including my impending injury.

  I had other things in mind that I wanted to do, one of which was seeing Aina. Just thinking about her made the corners of my lips lift uncontrollably. She was still alive at this time, after all.

  "Wait for me, Aina…" I whispered to myself, feeling a flicker of hope.

  I turned off the LED lamp and removed the brick that had been propping it up. I tidied up the makeshift bed I had created on the ground, which consisted of a thin sheet, some folded clothes, and a folded blanket I only used when it got too chilly. Yep, that was how I slept every night.

  I had grown accustomed to it over the years. From childhood until now, I had always slept on the ground, often without even a blanket.

  I was the idiot cheap and constantly worried about my dwindling savings, which were often drained by certain irresponsible people who exploited me throughout my life. I only realized how beyond saving they were and how stupid I was when it was too late, and I had to endure years of agony over my injury before the Aelor attack and the serum injection.

  As I walked down the stairs of the building still under construction, I encountered one of the workers, yawning as he shuffled by. From the direction he came, it seemed he was waking up to relieve himself.

  "Eh, you're awake, Nath! Go, go! Get some more sleep! Don't start working when it's not even time yet!" he said, shooing me away with his hands like I was a pesky fly – though obviously in a well-intentioned way.

  "No. Don't worry, Uncle Ron! I won't do that," I replied, half-amused. There was a reason I felt comfortable working here, even though the boss was a real piece of crap.

  Many of the workers here were genuinely nice people and to boot, also diligent in their tasks, unlike my previous job, where everyone seemed to be on a mission to dodge work and dump it all on me.

  These workers primarily came from a village and had been hired by a certain nice guy, or so they claimed. Only to be exploited here, working from 7 A.M. to 10 P.M., earning below the basic wage, eating bland food, and getting only an hour of afternoon rest.

  They had been duped into signing an unethical contract, and because most of them came from not-so-well-educated backgrounds, they still happily worked here, claiming that the work in the village was even harder than this. Talk about resilience!

  However, at least they were permanent workers here, unlike me, a temporary worker earning even less than they did.

  Uncle Ron raised his eyebrows, perhaps sensing something off about my demeanor. The younger me had always been extremely polite and full of smiles, albeit looking perpetually weary. Now, with memories of being a Supreme Commander for over a century, my bearing had certainly changed.

  "Are you having diarrhea, lad? You rarely wake up this early. And…" Uncle Ron sniffed the air, grimacing as his nose got closer to me. "Yeah, you stink. Perhaps it really is diarrhea."

  He awkwardly smiled at me, trying to comfort me, but I could see the concern in his eyes.

  I felt like crying at that moment. Well, it wasn't his fault; I indeed smelled terrible. Even the sheet I used to cover the ground reeked – much less my body. I smelled like something people would relieve themselves on in the toilet.

  "Thanks for the concern, Uncle Ron!" I rubbed the back of my head, feeling embarrassed, but internally surprised. This was the habit of the young, awkward me.

  "Just don't let the boss catch a whiff of you, or he might think you're trying to sabotage the project!" Uncle Ron chuckled, shaking his head as he walked away, leaving me to contemplate my less-than-glamorous morning.

  With a sigh, I resolved to tackle my day, starting with a shower. After all, a clean worker was a happy worker, or so they said.

  * * *