When I arrived at the batting cages, Ben was already inside one, grinding away. Crack. Crack. Crack. The sharp report of aluminum on leather echoed under the metal roof. The smell of rubber mats, machine oil, and old dust hung heavy in the air.

  “Hey, Ben. You been here long?” I called out.

  “Nah, like ten minutes.” He stepped out, adjusting his gloves. “You ready?”

  “Ready to kick your ass? Always.”

  The rules of our little competition were simple. The cages had numbered targets stretched across the netting at the far end. Smaller target, higher points. Highest score wins.

  Wins what?

  Bragging rights. Which, as far as I was concerned, were priceless.

  I grabbed a helmet and a bat, the familiar weight grounding me in a way nothing else had lately. The chain-link door clanged shut behind me.

  “Alright, you first,” Ben said.

  “Scared already?”

  “I’m just being a gentleman.”

  “Sure you are.”

  The pitching machine whirred to life, gears grinding as it loaded.

  First ball.

  I swung.

  CRACK—

  —or that’s what it should have been.

  Instead, the baseball exploded. The stitches burst apart mid-impact, and the ball unraveled into a sad clump of leather and string that dropped a few feet in front of me.

  Ben blinked. “…What?”

  I stared at the shredded remains. Right. Thirty-five Strength. And I still had thirty unallocated stat points from the last two level-ups.

  “Huh,” Ben said. “Guess you got a defective ball. Sucks for you. I’m counting it.”

  “Oh, so you can’t beat me straight up, so you’re going to resort to technicalities now?”

  “Hey, rules are rules.”

  The next pitch came in. This time I held back. Controlled my swing. Focused on direction instead of power.

  Crack.

  The ball actually held together. It sailed forward and missed the smallest center target by inches, clipping just to the left.

  Ben let out a low whistle. “Okay. That was actually close.”

  I exhaled slowly and adjusted my grip. Good.

  “Bro,” Ben said, squinting at me. “Have you been going to the gym or something? You look… different.”

  “Oh, nothing major. Just lifting at home.”

  He narrowed his eyes. He definitely didn’t buy it.

  Third pitch. I switched targets to the upper right corner. Swing. Missed wide right.

  “You know if you keep going for the tiny ones, you’re not getting points,” Ben said.

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  “Doesn’t matter,” I replied. “You’re getting zero anyway.”

  He laughed. “Man, I love the confidence. Shame that’s the only thing you’ve got going tonight.”

  The machine kept firing. Ball after ball. The rhythm settled into my bones.

  Speed of the pitch.

  Angle of entry.

  Hip rotation.

  Contact point.

  Sweat dripped into my eyes. My palms burned. My forearms tightened with each swing. And still: miss, miss, edge of the net, just wide.

  An hour passed. Then two. The overhead lights hummed quietly. My shirt clung to my back. The air felt heavier with rubber and dust.

  Ben rotated in and out of the cage. I stayed in.

  Then, finally, something pulsed faintly at the back of my mind.

  Blunt Weapons proficiency increased to Level 6.

  I froze mid-stance. There it is. I knew it. I could level up here.

  “You good?” Ben asked. “You look like you just saw God.”

  “Something like that,” I muttered.

  The next pitch came in. I didn’t think. I just swung.

  Everything lined up. The weight shift. The timing. The contact.

  Crack.

  The sound was perfect. Clean and centered. The ball flew like it knew exactly where it needed to go. It drilled into the smallest center target.

  Bullseye.

  Ben stared. “…Okay, what the hell.”

  I barely heard him. Another window appeared in the corner of my vision.

  Skill Evolution:

  Deflect Missile → Deflect Guided Missile

  For an additional 20 MP, you may designate a target.

  Any successfully deflected projectile will redirect toward that target with guaranteed trajectory correction.

  My heart pounded. Not just deflecting. Controlling. Guiding.

  Then reality landed. Twenty MP. My entire mana pool was twenty. So I could use the skill once per fight. Maybe.

  “That’s expensive,” I muttered under my breath.

  Wisdom probably governed mana. Those thirty free stat points suddenly felt a lot more important.

  After another round, I stepped out of the cage and let Ben take over. I leaned against the fence, watching him swing, the bat slicing through the air, the ball smacking into the net.

  This was the balance. By day: batting cages, school, dinner with Mom and Ellie. By night: golems, floors, survival. And somehow, both sides were feeding into each other.

  When we finally wrapped up, my arms felt like rubber and my muscles buzzed with that deep, satisfying exhaustion.

  We bumped fists. “Next time,” Ben said, “I’m bringing my A-game.”

  “You better.”

  Back home, I took a long shower. Hot water pounded my shoulders, steam fogging the mirror. Droplets ran down arms that didn’t belong to the version of me from a week ago. Stronger. Sharper. Different.

  Mom was home, so we had dinner together. Ellie talked about school drama. Mom looked tired but kept smiling. I nodded in the right places and answered when they spoke to me, but my brain was somewhere else, running numbers.

  If induction happened in about a month, how many floors could I clear before that? Would it be enough?

  At 9:47 PM, my alarm clock glowed in the dark as I lay back on my bed. The room felt smaller at night.

  “Alright, Lexi,” I said quietly. “Help me out before we hit Floor Three.”

  My phone screen lit up faintly.

  “As you know, I got the new skill. But I need more mana. Am I right that Wisdom controls my mana pool?”

  “Correct,” Lexi replied.

  “How much MP per point?”

  “Five.”

  I nodded. “Okay. I want to use Deflect Guided Missile at least three times per battle. That’s sixty MP.”

  Twelve points into Wisdom. I confirmed the allocation. A cool pressure spread behind my eyes, like something expanding quietly inside my head.

  Wisdom: 22. Mana: 60 MP.

  Eighteen points left. I split them evenly between Vitality, Strength, and Endurance. That last boss had nearly crushed me. I wasn’t letting that happen again.

  My updated stats appeared:

  Vitality: 45 (+10% → 49)

  Strength: 41 (56 with equipment)

  Endurance: 31 (55 with equipment)

  Dexterity: 15

  Wisdom: 22

  Charisma: 10

  My body hummed with restrained power.

  “Alright, Lexi,” I said as the clock crawled toward ten. “You ready?”

  “I’m ready.”

  I closed my eyes and waited for the summons.