From Picked-On Teen to Battle-Ready Beast: The Rise of the Strongest Soldier

Nero slumped into his seat on the bus, watching the city slowly disappear as they drove further into the countryside. The world outside the window shifted from the cold, gray streets he had known his entire life to sprawling fields, rolling hills, and narrow roads framed by old trees. The sky was overcast, and the gentle hum of the bus engine vibrated under his feet. It was almost peaceful, but the weight of the notification still lingered in his mind.

*Quest Updated: An Unseen Adversary Awaits.*

The words had flashed in his vision just before the bus had pulled away from the station, and now, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake them. An unseen adversary. It felt like a warning, a grim reminder that no matter where he went, no matter how far he tried to run, there was always something waiting in the shadows. Always something lurking.

*Not all new beginnings are as they seem.*

He tried to steel himself, closing his eyes for a moment, imagining the new life that awaited him. A new district, a new school, a fresh start. Maybe here, he could find some kind of redemption, some way to atone for what happened to Kai. But the warning gnawed at him. It was just like the system to remind him that even hope came with strings attached.

Nero opened his eyes again and stared at his reflection in the bus window. The person staring back at him looked like a stranger—a boy who had tried to become something more and had failed. He felt like a fraud. What kind of person needed a system just to get through life? What kind of son was he, running away to a rural district, leaving his younger sister in a better place for her education?

The bus's brakes squealed like a dying animal, and with a hiss, the doors slid open. The acrid stench of diesel fumes assaulted his nostrils.

Nero grabbed his suitcase. His fingers closed around the handle, cool metal vibrating with the idling engine. Nero stumbled to his feet, legs stiff from the twelve-hour ride. He shouldered past a dozing old woman, ignoring her indignant squawk.

The gravelly platform crunched under his worn boots as he stepped off. The midday sun hit him like a sledgehammer, searing his retinas. Nero squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

The air here smelled different, fresher, cleaner, but there was something unsettling about the wide-open spaces. It felt exposed.

That's when he saw it. A '67 Chevy, primer-gray and rusting. His old man's pride and joy, parked ten feet away like a harbinger of doom.

He stood frozen, torn between bolting back onto the bus or facing the music. The choice was ripped away as the driver's door creaked open.

"Well, well," a gravelly voice called out. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Nero's father unfolded from the car, all six-foot-four of him. His face was a roadmap of hard living, eyes cold as winter frost. Arms crossed, a frown etched deep into his face. His mother stood beside him, her expression softer but tinged with disappointment. This was the part he had been dreading.

For a moment, the only sound was the idling bus engine and the crows cawing in the distance. Then his father's face split into a razor-thin smile.

“Nero,” his father started, his voice gruff and no-nonsense. “You’ve got a chance to start over here. Don’t waste it. We expect you to look for part-time work while you study. It’ll teach you responsibility and independence.”

Nero nodded, saying nothing. His father’s eyes narrowed.

“And don’t think of it as just extra pocket money. You’re old enough to learn what it means to be independent, to pull your own weight. Your sister—well, she’s already living with your grandparents to get the best education possible, and she looks up to you. So do better this time, will you? Be someone she can be proud of.”

His father’s words stung. His sister had always been the smart one, the responsible one. The one who never caused any trouble. Meanwhile, he was... *this*. A mess, a failure, a disappointment.

His mother placed a hand on his father’s arm. “Let him be, dear. He’s doing his best. We all make mistakes.”

Nero didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His throat was tight, and the words that wanted to come out—*I’m sorry, I’ll do better*—felt like lies.

"Come on," he growled, jerking his head towards the car.

With a sigh, his father got back into the car. His mother gave him a soft, reassuring smile before she followed. Nero stared at the holographic map in the corner of his vision. It showed the rural district, small and unremarkable, like a blank slate. But even as he looked at it, the words from the quest hovered, burning into his thoughts.

*An unseen adversary awaits.*

Nero nodded, his mouth dry as cotton. He took a step forward, gravel crunching under his feet like broken bones.

He was going to mess this up too. He always did. He dragged his suitcase to the car, tossing it into the trunk before sliding into the back seat. His parents sat in the front, his father gripping the wheel, his mother glancing back at him with concern.

The car rumbled to life, and they pulled out of the station, heading down a narrow road that cut through farmland and quiet, empty spaces. Nero stared out the window, his mind racing. What kind of son was he? What kind of brother? He couldn’t even be a good friend. He had dragged Kai into his problems, and now he was dead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered under his breath, but the words vanished into the hum of the engine.

As the road stretched out before them, Nero felt a familiar, sinking feeling in his chest. The guilt, the weight of it, was crushing him again. His fingers twitched at his sides, and before he knew it, he had pulled out his smartphone. He needed to distract himself. He needed to shut his mind off.

He opened his favorite game, letting the bright, colorful graphics fill the screen. He knew it was an escape, knew it was a way to numb the pain, but he didn’t care. At least here, in this world of pixels and strategy, he had control. At least here, he wasn’t a failure.

His thumbs danced over the screen, tapping furiously as he dove into another battle. In the background, he heard his father grumble something under his breath about “kids these days,” but Nero barely registered it. His mother said something in return, probably telling his father to ease up on him, but Nero didn’t care to listen.

The car drove on, and Nero kept playing, sinking deeper and deeper into the game world, desperate to forget everything. The unseen adversary, his failure, Kai’s death, his father’s disappointment—it all faded as the game consumed him, the flashing lights and victory screens offering him a moment of respite.

But somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, that warning still lingered, like a shadow he couldn’t quite shake.

*Not all new beginnings are as they seem.*

Nero tapped away on his phone, his focus entirely on the game in front of him. The bright, pixelated world provided a small sliver of relief from the constant gnawing in the back of his mind. Here, at least, he could forget the weight of his own existence for a moment.

“Nero, get off that phone,” his father’s voice cut through the illusion like a knife. There was that usual edge in his tone, the one that reminded Nero of just how disappointing he must be. How much of a failure he had become in his father’s eyes.

Nero didn’t respond, eyes still glued to the screen as his character dodged attacks. The sound effects and music filled the quiet car, drowning out the silence that had grown suffocating between him and his parents.

His mother turned to look at him, her voice softer, but with that hint of insistence. “Nero, your father’s talking to you. At least answer him.”

Nero’s thumbs paused for a split second, but he didn’t lift his head. He felt the weight of his father’s glare through the exterior mirror. It was a silent battle, and one Nero didn’t have the energy for. His father let out a frustrated sigh, and Nero could feel the disappointment filling the space between them.

*He must regret having a weak, pathetic son like me,* Nero thought bitterly, his heart sinking deeper into the pit he was already in. *What kind of man can’t even hold his family’s respect?*

“Nero…” his mother started again, her tone tentative, like she was choosing her words carefully. “If the kids at this new school… if they treat you the way they did at the last one… If they hit you, or bully you again… just quit, okay? We don’t want you suffering. I just want you to live a life you’re comfortable with, alright?”

Nero’s chest tightened. *Quit?* That’s what his mother expected of him, wasn’t it? Just another confirmation that he was incapable of standing up for himself, of living up to even the most basic expectations. He was a problem that needed to be managed, not a son to be proud of.

His focus wavered, and in a blink, his in-game character was struck down. “Defeat” flashed across the screen in big, bold letters. Nero clenched the phone tightly, feeling his face flush with frustration and shame. He wasn’t just weak in the real world. He was weak everywhere.

The car slowed to a stop, and Nero glanced up to see the new school looming ahead. It was smaller than the one he had left behind in the city, but there was something about it—its unfamiliarity, the weight of what it represented—that made it feel suffocating. He swallowed hard, the new uniform suddenly feeling too tight against his skin, the school bag heavy on his shoulders.

He didn’t want to get out. He didn’t want to go in. The thought crossed his mind, a desperate, fleeting urge: *I should just run. I could still run. It’s not too late.*

But his father had already gotten out of the car, and his mother was giving him that soft, concerned smile that always made him feel even smaller. With a deep breath, Nero stepped out of the car. The resistance in his chest didn’t ease; if anything, it grew stronger. It felt like he was walking into a battlefield he wasn’t prepared for.

Inside the school, the air was thick with nervous energy. Nero stood in front of the class, the weight of every eye pressing down on him. The teacher smiled, urging him forward.

“This is Nero,” the teacher said to the students. “He’s new here, so make him feel welcome.”

Nero cleared his throat, trying to push down the knot in his stomach. “I… I’ve never been here before,” he began, his voice quieter than he intended. His hands were trembling, so he gripped his school bag tightly. “This district is… new to me.”

His eyes dropped to the floor as the silence stretched. *Why can’t I just disappear? Why can’t time stop? Please, just stop. Don’t let anything bad happen.*

He bowed slightly, his face pale, and mumbled, “Nice to meet you all.”

The seconds dragged on, every muscle in Nero’s body tensed, bracing for the laughter, the whispers, the mocking. But instead, the room exploded in applause.

He blinked, lifting his head slowly, stunned as the entire class clapped. Faces filled with smiles, their expressions bright and welcoming.

"Nice to meet you, Nero!" someone shouted, and others chimed in, repeating the phrase with genuine cheerfulness.

He was completely taken aback. The warmth in the room was so foreign, so jarring. It almost felt wrong. It was eerily happy, like he had stepped into some parallel universe. They were smiling at him—cheering for him, even.

One of the boys near the back grinned and elbowed his friend. “Hey, we’ve finally got a city boy in our class! Don’t act like a bunch of country bumpkins now!”

The laughter that followed was light-hearted, but it echoed in Nero’s ears, surreal and distant. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to be *welcomed*.

“Sit next to me!” someone shouted. “No, sit over here!” another called. Voices overlapped, all inviting him to join them, to take his place among them. Nero’s feet moved on their own as he found a seat. He was still in shock.

How was this happening? Were they playing some kind of trick on him? Or was this just the calm before the storm?

As he sank into his seat, the shock still hadn’t worn off. The cheerful buzz of the classroom continued to swirl around him, but Nero felt like he was on the outside, looking in. He was so used to being the outcast, the target. This felt wrong—too easy, too… happy.

Just as lunch was announced, and students began milling about, chatting and moving around, Nero felt the air shift. Two tall figures approached, their shadows looming over his desk.

“Hey, new kid…”

Nero's heart stopped. His body froze as the words rang in his ears. His stomach churned violently, memories of his past surging back.

He slowly looked up, and his blood ran cold. Two menacing-looking guys stood before him, their eyes sharp and calculating.

*Not again…*