---
**Chapter Two: Into the Body of Another**
I sighed and asked the AI again, "Repeat the mission details. I wasn't paying much attention earlier."
The same calm, robotic voice replied:
**"These are the mission details:**
**In the Hado National Martial Arts Tournament, the user will participate as a representative of the Phir State.**
* **Main Objective:** Pass the qualifier round
* **Side Mission:** Befriend or bribe individuals with influence who may assist you during the tournament
* **Hidden Mission:** ?????
* **Rewards:** Greater qualification results in better or unexpected prizes
* **Penalty:** Failing the qualifier round will result in death."\*\*
I let out a dry laugh.
"Well, I'm screwed. I don't know jack about martial arts."
"System," I said aloud, "This isn't fair. I don't even *have* any martial arts experience!"
**"Due to this being a tutorial mission, the system will provide the host with the previous knowledge and physical experience of the body you will be occupying."**
I frowned, slightly relieved.
"Well… that's *something*, I guess. What about that one point I still have? Can I use it for anything?"
**"No."**
"Figures…"
With nothing else to do, I sat back and waited for the mission timer to reach zero.
---
As the timer struck **00:00:00**, my surroundings vanished. A rush of vertigo hit me, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself in an unfamiliar body—in a locker room, alone.
I tried to move, and the strange limbs responded. Then, I thought about the memories of this new identity, and suddenly, *everything* flooded in. A surge of thoughts, feelings, habits, and life details rushed into my mind like a tidal wave, and with it came another blinding headache.
It took me nearly an hour to fully process everything.
I was now **Garen Lombard**.
A semi-serious martial artist—not obsessed with the craft, but motivated by practical goals. Garen had entered the National Martial Arts Tournament in hopes of getting into a better college. Academic merit had failed him, but sports could be his way in. And there was another reason—**Laura**, the girl he liked, was also competing in the women's division. He wanted to stand out.
The year was around 2011. The tournament was two weeks away.
A sudden noise startled me. The locker room door opened.
"Garen? What are you still doing here?" said a man's voice—his coach.
"Don't over-practice and ruin your body before the tournament. It's late—go home."
I quickly packed Garen's gym bag and left, boarding a bus to what was now *my* home.
Garen's house was a luxurious **5BHK** with a private swimming pool. I walked in, followed the memory map in my head, and entered my—*his*—room. I sat on the chair and stared blankly for a moment, trying to wrap my head around everything.
Then I made a decision.
**Study the manual at night. Train during the day. Maximize every second.**
That evening, I joined Garen's parents for dinner, playing my part. I told them training was going well. Small talk, polite smiles—it was surprisingly easy to fit in with the help of the memories.
After dinner, I began practicing the *Extremely Basic Body Strengthening Manual*.
It was... basic, as advertised. A series of breathing techniques coupled with precise exercises. No explosive strength boosts. No magical transformations. Just slow, steady growth through proper repetition.
And honestly? I could barely get the exercises right. My form was off. My control was weak. The manual wasn't complicated, but it demanded discipline—and I was still adjusting.
---
I barely slept.
My mind kept replaying techniques and movement patterns. Every breath, every pose.
When Garen's—*my*—mom came to wake me early the next morning, I felt like a truck had hit me. My muscles screamed. My eyes stung. But I pushed myself up.
**My life was on the line.**
After breakfast, I headed to Garen's gym—the **Absolute Martial Training Center**.
It was a multi-purpose facility. Most people came for the gym or yoga. Martial arts? Not so much. In fact, there were only two official martial arts training days: **Tuesday and Thursday**. The rest of the week? DIY workouts.
I met the coach, and he told me to follow the usual routine:
* 50 push-ups
* 20 squats
* 5 km run
* 20 pull-ups
I, on the other hand, had a brilliant idea.
"One Punch Man style," I muttered to myself.
**100 push-ups, 100 squats, 100 pull-ups, 10 km run.**
It sounded epic in my head.
Reality hit hard.
I couldn't even complete the *normal* routine. The fatigue from last night had left me drained, and halfway through the run I nearly passed out.
So much for ambition.
Afterwards, I learned there were no martial arts sessions on non-training days. But I still had access to the gym equipment. That afternoon, I stayed behind and practiced the manual—focused on proper form this time.
And that's when it happened.
While reaching into my gym bag for a towel, I spotted a **crumpled 500 rupee note** on the floor.
No one was around.
Lucky break? Probably the work of that **14.5 Luck stat** I had boosted earlier.
I didn't question it.
I was dead tired. I'd burned out all my fuel for the day, both mental and physical.
I took the bus back home and collapsed onto the bed.
Tomorrow would be another step forward.
---
*To be continued...*