Jax didn't speak. He didn't even look at the weight. He just reached out, his eyes glowing with the same neon green as the GUI. With a single, effortless pull, he hoisted the monolith over his head. The ground cracked beneath his heels.
Suddenly, Jax’s body wasn't his own. His arms moved with the precision of a piston, hoisting the rusted 45lb plates with impossible speed. He didn't feel the burn, only the surge of data-driven power. While he slept, his avatar—and his physical form through some strange, symbiotic link—mutated.
The crowd went silent. The GUI pinged in Jax's ear: Level Max Reached. Error: No more strength to gain.
By dawn, his shirt had shredded at the seams. By noon, he walked into the Upper District, his presence vibrating with a hidden, algorithmic strength. The reigning champion, a mountain of a man named Krull, laughed as Jax approached the legendary 50-ton monolith. "Careful, kid. You’ll snap a twig," Krull jeered.