Chapter 41: Routine
The rhythm of his new life started to take shape: a cycle of relentless training, system missions, learning, and survival.
Every day felt the same.
Mornings were football. A battlefield of drills, sweat, and competition. A place where mistakes were punished, where every sprint, every touch, every decision mattered. The cold air bit into his skin, muscles burned from repetition, but stopping wasn’t an option. Not when there was always someone waiting to take your spot.
Afternoons were school. A different kind of challenge, an unfamiliar maze of Dutch words and expectations. He sat in classrooms where the language swirled around him too fast, lessons moving forward whether he understood or not. It was frustrating. Back home, school had been something to endure. Here, it was something to conquer.
Evenings were recovery. A slow rebuild for the next war. Ice baths numbing his aching muscles, stretchings that pulled at stiff joints, and nutrition plans designed to keep his body from breaking down. Sleep should have been easy after days like this. But most nights, his mind wouldn’t let him rest.
No wasted time. No distractions. Just progress. But adapting wasn’t easy.
Dutch grammar twisted his brain into knots. It was a language that felt both impossible and urgent, something he needed to master, yt something that resisted him at every turn.
The verbs changed depending on the subject. The sentence structure felt backward. Even words that seemed simple had rules that made them complicated.
Some teachers slowed their speech for him. Others didn’t.
He sat in class, scribbling notes furiously, trying to keep up while words blurred together. The moment the teacher moved on, he whispered Dutch phrases under his breath, forcing them into his mind like a new football technique.
It was exhausting. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t afford to fail.