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墨書 Inktalez
"I have no food restrictions," Freyr said, shaking his head.
The plump man, who served as both chef and coach, shrugged his arms and casually replied, "That's fine. There aren't any delicacies anyway. Young master, just eat as much as you can."
"Oh?" After a long wait, the meal was finally ready. It wasn't a gourmet dish from a large pot but rather a simple steak with mashed potatoes and a cup of vegetable juice. The portion of mashed potatoes was generous, enough for a refill after finishing, while the steak was more than three times thicker than what one would typically find at a rescue center.
Coach Clinton walked over to Freyr and personally served him the dish. He then squeezed Freyr's shoulder, causing him to nearly cry out in surprise. After a moment of rest, he felt the soreness in his shoulders and legs as if they might explode. However, the chef seemed unfazed and continued to pinch his weak spot before mumbling something as he moved away, soon approaching the frail Nip.
"Finish your food; don't leave anything behind, my dear comrades. This afternoon's training will be tougher. You need the energy to create miracles for me, for us, and even for this united government in the future. This is your critical moment; the purpose of stepping onto the field is to win the match. You won't have much time to prepare—just like in war, when the moment strikes, there won't be time for preparation. Those who fail to complete their tasks will be eliminated from the team; someone will always step in at crucial moments."
Whether intentional or not, Coach Clinton's words achieved their purpose.
"After dinner, Freya, Long Xingchen, and..." Clinton removed his chef's coat and focused his gaze on three individuals at the table. However, when he mentioned the third name, he paused momentarily with an indescribable expression and locked his eyes on Freyr sitting beside Freya. "Uh, Freyr, those who haven't reported their names will continue with their original training after finishing their meals. The three mentioned should come to my office."
The teammates turned to look at Freyr, who sat quietly with his head down. Adams' eyes glinted with jealousy as several loyal followers around him displayed similar ugly expressions, muttering in a language only they could understand: "Why is it him?"
This was a nearly extinct dialect from the Germanic language family. To this group of people, the newcomer’s aura was too dazzling; he felt like a tumor within the team that received special treatment from the captain, manager, and coach. Perhaps this guy had talent; his aloof personality made him reluctant to mingle with peers.
However, such brilliance sparked jealousy among others in the team. Although Freyr didn't see it that way—he certainly didn't want to live a boring life filled with bullying weaker classmates alongside these kids—he also didn't mind interacting with them; he simply prioritized training and forming meaningful connections.
So what constituted meaningful connections? Relock was one; Mr. Wise Guo Yu was another; Wreck-It Ralph was also among them. Of course, if Maggie didn’t mind his past misfortunes of broken bones, there was also Zhao Tingting, who possessed extraordinary psychic abilities despite being a girl. Then there were his earnest brothers from military training who tried hard to befriend him: Xiong Tai.
Freyr pinched his sore trigeminal nerve and thought carefully. Among these people were indeed crucial figures linked to his future plans. When the doomsday war against the Zerg erupted, many of them would be on the battlefield. As the war progressed deeper, their lives would wither like fallen leaves in the wind. But now, Freyr wouldn’t repeat past mistakes; as long as he grew stronger and gained command authority first, he could step onto the path of leadership ahead of others.
After pondering for a while, he decided not to delve deeper into thoughts that would only expand endlessly; he didn’t want these hard-won visions to dissolve into nothingness again. He asked for another bowl of mashed potatoes and noticed that wherever he went, there were unfriendly gazes fixed upon him. Among this group of people, some occasionally turned to him with faint smiles while simultaneously showing him their middle fingers in an unfriendly manner as if saying, "Look at that guy—the odd one out! I wonder if he's just another arrogant brat like Coach reports about. I really want to crack open his head and see what makes him different from us."
"Um, I'll have a serving of mashed potatoes too!"
At that moment, a strangely infectious voice came from beside him. Freyr turned to look and saw a boy with slightly curly hair, the same one he had raced against earlier—Xiu. He stood next to Freyr, clearly also wanting to scoop some mashed potatoes from the robot's belly.
"Senior Xiu, you go ahead," Freyr said kindly, stepping aside.
Without a second thought, Xiu smiled and stepped in front of him. "Hahaha, then I won't be polite, junior."
"It's fine; who told you to be the senior?" Freyr shook his head.
Xiu quickly scooped out mashed potatoes into his bowl, piling them high. He sprinkled a layer of salt and pepper on top, clearly pleased with this delicious dish. Using a spoon, he dug in, both effortlessly satisfying his hunger and enjoying the meal.
When it was Freyr's turn to step forward, he found that the mashed potatoes in the robot's belly were already nearly gone. He glanced back at Xiu, who shrugged nonchalantly and smiled. "Hehe, I just really like mashed potatoes. Sorry about that." With that, Xiu returned to his seat, where laughter could still be heard coming from him.
Freyr paid no mind to the laughter behind him. For others, being different might mean exclusion or bullying, but he was an old man over fifty; if he couldn't even endure a little loneliness, it would be a disgrace to all the experiences he had accumulated over the years.
From that day on, during mealtime, he became the number one target for others. Whatever food he liked would be snatched away first, and regardless of whether it was something he enjoyed or not, he would always end up being the last in line—left with only scraps.
Fortunately, he had no particular cravings for food; as long as he could fill his stomach, that was enough. If worse came to worst, he would have to catch mice to eat. In this era, schools were relatively clean; mice weren't too active. There were groups of black rats in the sewers, but they usually carried many bacteria. However, near the school by the fields, there were no mice to catch—only field mice or harmless caterpillars to stave off hunger.
"You can have mine."
When he returned to his seat, Freya shifted her plate and transferred half of her beef onto his plate.
"Thank you, Senior." Freyr said.
"What are you thanking me for? A great favor is not to be mentioned. Remember, you are my junior, and I am responsible for your well-being. If you can't hold on, I will be dismissed," Freya replied with a smile.
"Oh."
Freyr nodded and quickly cut a piece of tender beef with his knife, shoving it into his mouth and chewing rapidly. It was delicious—truly delicious. Not only was the meat quality superb, but the thickness of the beef also contained precise nutritional elements. It wasn't too much, and these nutrients swiftly transformed into a refreshing airflow that filled the severely damaged genetic layers in his body.
Freyr could clearly feel his strength gradually returning; even his immobile arms began to regain sensation. After experiencing such a strange change, he felt quite surprised. He wondered why such food technology would disappear later on; he certainly hadn't had access to such good food back then.
His training relied heavily on the expertise of the athletic trainers at the time, who were dedicated to rigorous training. He considered himself an experienced individual, and his abilities could at most return to their past peak level, with no possibility of further improvement. However, the evidence before him was breaking that old mindset.
He finished all the pieces of beef. Due to its highly restorative effects and low production rate, it required strict control; one person could only consume a small amount or take it at specific times. The maximum effect was to prioritize the reinforcement of damaged genes, significantly enhancing weaker genetic cells.
For Freyr, the current effect of eating the beef was merely helping him recover his stamina quickly; however, there were no significant effects in other areas.
After finishing their meal, the others headed to the gym for more training. The three of them walked out and came to another office. They lingered outside for a moment before knocking on the door to see what would happen. Suddenly, a voice came from inside, "The one called should come in first—Long Xingchen. The others wait outside."
Long Xingchen seemed to have anticipated this outcome. He looked at the two beside him and said, "I'll go in first; you two wait outside and don't wander off."
"Alright, I got it," Freya replied with a smile.
Freyr's silence did not indicate a rejection of the command; his choice to remain quiet mostly represented obedience.
"Good, then," Long Xingchen said, still feeling uneasy as he glanced back before pushing open the door and stepping inside.
"The atmosphere is so awkward; I wonder what will happen," Freya said with a smile.
"Will we get scolded? I feel like the coach isn't in a good mood," Freyr asked tentatively.
"The coach doesn't smile. That's just how he is, but he's actually a good person," Freya replied.
"Why is that?" Freyr inquired.
"During the war, his facial nerves were severed by the Zerg, so he can't show emotions anymore. This relates to his past experiences, and all the details are classified, so we have no way of knowing. But as long as you work hard enough, the coach won't say anything to you. He only yells at you when you're not performing well. But don't worry; it's not personal; it's about your condition. He still cares about your quality of life in private," Freya continued with a smile.
"You mean the coach is actually a nice guy," Freyr said knowingly.
"Yes, that's exactly what I mean," Freya chuckled.
Just then, Long Xingchen turned the doorknob and stepped out, his expression still cold and unyielding. The two leaned closer, and Freya suddenly asked, "So, what did the coach say?"
"Well, why don't you both go in and listen for yourselves?" Long Xingchen replied with an awkward smile.
At that moment, another voice called from inside, "Next up, Freya. You can come in now. Long Xingchen, you can leave. The rest of you will have to wait a bit longer; I need to discuss your current situation specifically."
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