My Only Familiar Is Me[A Late-Blooming Evolution Story]

“I’m glad I could help,” Maggie said, taking the saucer and empty cup from the tray with her usual dignity. “When they issue you that pretentious FBA ID in a leather case, make sure you show it to me. I’ve always wanted to hold a real government badge.”

“I haven’t made a final decision yet, but thanks for the advice,” I replied, opening the door and following her into the kitchen. “By the way, what are you doing today?”

“I basically don’t have any plans anymore,” she said, turning on the faucet. A sharp hiss filled the kitchen as a stream of water hit the sink. Maggie washed the cup with the same easy, practiced movements she always used. “I’m young, completely free, and officially unemployed. I don’t have to drag myself to the pharmacy at the crack of dawn to pick up prescription meds, clip coupons for groceries, or panic every first of the month about making rent. And it’s all thanks to you. Honestly, I feel like a schoolgirl on an endless summer vacation.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes and no. Of course, doing nothing is more pleasant than working twelve-hour shifts, but endless time off gets old pretty fast,” she said, turning off the water and setting the clean dishes on the rack. “I’m seriously thinking about finding a job so my whole life doesn’t turn into scrolling through social media and going to pointless parties. This time, I want something I’ll actually enjoy, preferably something related to one of my hobbies. Because scrubbing other people’s cars for peanuts just so I don’t waste away inside four walls is downright stupid.”

“I support anything you decide to pursue. If you need financial resources or organizational assistance, you can always count on me.”

“I know. And I really appreciate it,” she said, smiling as she dried her fingers on a towel. “So why did you need me? Although, wait. Let me guess. You’re dragging me back to the gym?”

“Yes.”

“In some ways, you’re exactly like your unhinged colonel. Just as stubborn and impossible to budge.”

I did not like the comparison. I did not consider my methods military-style hazing or domestic tyranny. Still, my expression remained impassive.

“Your physical improvements directly affect my own progress,” I reminded her in a dry, even tone.

“And you’re willing to sacrifice your own mother for a couple of extra levels?”

“I’m not sure what sacrifice you’re talking about. Nobody is sacrificing you. Quite the opposite. You’re gaining peak physical condition, greater endurance, and denser tissues, all of which improve your chances of surviving any dangerous situation.”

“Talking clearly isn’t going to get through to you,” Maggie said, shaking her head as she headed for the hallway. “You need a visual demonstration.”

She stepped into the bedroom and stopped in front of the full-length mirror in its massive wooden frame. Rolling up the sleeve of her lounge shirt, she bent her arm slightly, showing off a neat, barely noticeable bit of definition.

“This is aesthetic. And so is this,” she said, lifting the hem of her shirt to reveal a completely flat, toned stomach. “I get messages from a dozen guys in my DMs every day, all dying to ask me out. And you want to turn me into this?”

She swiped across her phone and held it out to me. Maggie had clearly prepared for this in advance. The screen showed a collection of professional female bodybuilders at the peak of their competition cuts. Bulging veins, dark bronze makeup, massive muscles defined down to individual fibers. The only thing distinguishing them from male professionals was their sports bras. They were extreme physiques taken to the point of absurdity.

“You won’t become like that,” I replied, handing the phone back without a flicker of emotion. “Your biochemistry and hormonal profile are locked in an ideal balance. The goal is peak density, reaction speed, and endurance, not muscle hypertrophy. Your examples aren’t relevant. Those women might be able to move a truck, but they wouldn’t be able to perform a basic acrobatic maneuver or run a marathon. Their own body weight works against them.”

“And what do you have to say about this?”

She stepped aside, and my reflection appeared beside hers in the mirror. A tall, athletic man with perfect posture.

“And what exactly am I supposed to see?” I slowly turned, checking myself for any abnormalities. “You said yourself half an hour ago that I look great.”

“But you’ve still gotten broader through the shoulders!” she shot back immediately. “Your abs are more defined, and you’ve gained size in your chest and arms! That’s a plus for a man. But for a woman, it’s a completely different story! Just look at the numbers. Muscular Amazons are visually attractive to maybe five percent of men, tops.”

“You won’t turn into a solid block of muscle,” I repeated. “Your muscle mass will be distributed evenly, creating a natural, functional frame.”

“I don’t even want that frame!” The emotion in her voice was more pronounced now. “Is it really so hard to understand? People like slim, athletic women, not a special-forces operative in a skirt. I ran my latest photo through an AI model using an extrapolation algorithm. I told it to add twenty pounds of lean muscle. Look.”

She turned the screen toward me. It was not some grotesque bodybuilding competitor, but a realistic model. The Maggie in the image looked like a highly trained warrior: tall, poised, with flawless posture and lean, sculpted muscles. It was a pretty accurate picture of what she would look like once she reached her peak.

And I did not like it. There was nothing ugly about her. If anything, the look was severe and dominant. It reminded me of women from the goth subculture, the kind who wore a ton of black makeup. They were not unattractive, but it was an extremely niche look, appealing to a very specific audience. Personally, I would find it psychologically uncomfortable to live under the same roof with someone who looked like a special-forces operative.

“And most importantly,” Maggie added quietly as she turned off the screen, “I’ll never be able to get back to my original shape. Because of your superpowers, my body doesn’t regress at all. Once I reach that peak, I’ll stay there forever.”

“Got it. Understood,” I said with a brief nod. “This will slow down my own progress considerably, but I’m not going to use you as a tool for leveling up. No more forced training.”

“Thank you.” Maggie smiled sweetly, and the weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. “How bad are my stats right now?”

“All of your primary attributes are at six,” I replied after checking my status in the system. “That is slightly above the average for a normal adult.”

“I think we can safely get them up to seven,” she said thoughtfully, adjusting her collar. “After all, having a little extra physical strength is nice, and a bit of muscle tone certainly won’t hurt. But that’s where we stop. No extreme workouts.”

“Given how you’ve been training so far, you’ll hit that increase today,” I said, giving her a critical once-over. “Put on your workout clothes. I’ll drive you to the gym.”

“And you? Aren’t you coming with me?”

“I’ve already reached the point where standard weights and machines can no longer provide the stimulus my muscles need. I’ll drop you off and wait in the parking lot. The range of my ability is enough to maintain the link even through a wall.”

Twenty minutes later, my car was parked outside the fitness center. I deliberately chose a spot right against the wall of the shaded wing where her gym was located. I activated [Special Command] and waited for the system response confirming that the passive effect had been successfully established. I now had roughly six hours of enforced downtime. I could not go anywhere, but I had more than enough time to make some useful contacts.

I pulled out my phone, found the name I was looking for, and hit call.

“Hey, Danny,” I said when the connection clicked through the speaker. “Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“Nah, man! I’m eating pizza and watching the game,” he replied lazily. The stadium roar and commentators’ voices in the background were noticeably quieter now. “Actually, I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Pure statistics, bro! Every new recruit loves calling their first handler right after their first trip through a portal. Tears, panic, screaming, ‘Get me back to school!’ It’s a classic!” Genuine, good-natured amusement crept into his voice. “You took almost a month to get around to the whining, but Uncle Danny’s ready to listen to all your emotional trauma.”

“Listen, maybe. Do anything about it? Probably not,” I said with a smirk. There was no quitting this outfit just because you felt like it. “But you don’t know me very well, Danny. I’m not the type to cry on someone’s shoulder. I’ve got a couple of specific questions for you. First, what happens to underage Awakened? Do they have to finish school?”

“Oh, that? Totally optional, bro. The Corps obviously isn’t going to make them ace their physics tests, but they bend over backward to make things as easy as possible for the kids. Want free tutors? They’ll get you free tutors. Want them to deal with problems with the principal or switch you to remote learning? They can do that, too. Whether the kid takes advantage of the loophole or says screw it and goes off to drink juice is up to the kid and their parents.” Danny went quiet for about thirty seconds, loudly chewing through another bite. “All right, that clears that up. What’s the second question?”

“Hypothetical situation. Say you were given a completely free choice and could pick any division in the Corps. Where would you go?”

A heavy silence fell on the other end of the line. I could not tell whether Danny had stuffed his mouth with a piece of cheese crust or whether my question had finally broken through his usual carefree attitude.

“I usually have no problem giving advice to green recruits,” he said when he finally spoke again, and all the laziness had disappeared from his voice. “Teenagers love fantasizing about cool careers. I used to be the same way. But you, Tom... You’re a grown man. I don’t believe you’re just making conversation. What’s really going on?”

I briefly outlined the situation with the Bronze Star and the unexpected right to choose my own assignment, leaving out the unnecessary details.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me! A medal on your very first deployment?!” Danny practically shouted into the speaker with such force that I had to hold the phone a good foot away from my ear. “Dude, if you keep this up, I’ll be saluting you on the parade ground a year from now!”

“Don’t exaggerate. My progress is largely due to the fact that I entered the system as a fully grown adult with a particular background. You still haven’t answered my question. Let me put it another way. If you became a recruit again right now but kept all the experience you have today, where would you go?”

“Oh, that’s easy! I’d stay right where I am. I’d keep putting out those damn wildfires.”

“You actually enjoy that routine that much?”

“Dude, are you kidding me?! I freaking love it! We get called out maybe once a week, and the paycheck’s what you’d expect from a career special-forces officer! Plus, I’m constantly on the local news. You seen my Instagram? I’ve got more followers than George Clooney!”

“Thanks for your opinion, Danny, but my situation is different. To work in emergency services, you need abilities suited to large-scale disasters.”

“Who the hell told you that?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “We’re constantly short on people who can actually do the work! Sure, I can burn a path through a wildfire, but who’s going to clear rubble and haul cars? And you’re strong as a bull. I saw you in the portal! Hell, with that rugged face of yours, we could build a killer ad campaign around you. Something like, ‘Even among the Awakened, there are ordinary, reliable guys who just show up and do the job.’ Tell me that doesn’t sound freaking awesome!”

For the next fifteen minutes, I listened in silence to his enthusiastic stories about life in emergency services. I drew an important conclusion: both Selina and Leon had seriously overstated the situation when they insisted I had no future in the adjacent departments. They had simply been manipulating the facts in an attempt to pull me into their respective organizations.

“Thanks for explaining, Danny. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

I ended the call and moved my finger to Megan’s number. I needed another independent source of information.

[Tactical Mode Activated.]

What the hell?! Who had the nerve to attack me in my own car?!