Dragon Ball: Enlisted

I stared, watching the shadows dance across the ceiling.

There was an artificial, almost sterile scent in the air. Was I in the hospital?

A screen flickered into my vision, reminding me it wasn't all just one long delusion-filled dream.

o–o

Training Report

Training inefficiency detected. Stat gain will be hindered.

[Body] stat has increased. (+0.6 Body)

Below minimum threshold (1.0). Stat increase discarded.

Title [F-Class] activates—boosting inefficient gains by 50%.

[Body] stat increase recalculated…

Threshold surpassed. Excess discarded. Stat gain applied.

(+1 Body)

o–o

'Ah, right. I collapsed while running, didn't I?'

It was cathartic to see my effort be translated into physical growth, but the fact that my title just barely salvaged my stat gain put a dampener on that feeling.

The realization stung—a reminder that I hadn't truly pushed myself to my limits. I'd burned through my stamina inefficiently, wasting energy I could've used more effectively with proper form.

That kind of mistake usually weighed on me. The idea that I was so far behind it wasn't even funny. But this time, excitement flickered underneath the frustration.

Why? 

Because—

"I have a long way to go," I blurted out. 

It always felt like I was going nowhere in life, and that all my efforts would eventually be overshadowed by another's. But in this life, even if I didn't have a reason yet, it felt amazing to have a clear path forward.

Even if Goku and Vegeta only had one transformation, they would still be the two strongest of the Z-Fighters. Because while everyone took breaks or calmed down in times of peace, those two stayed true to their training.

Goku focused on improving himself without fail—to always be better than he was the day before. Meanwhile, Vegeta sought to surpass the one guy who would never stop training.

Thus, their true strength was in their consistency. Even if their power only increased by a fraction every day, it was those small increments that stacked over time—year after year..

And it was that unwavering discipline that I admired. The path to victory that I sought to walk.

"You've got that right."

I nearly jumped at the voice, but my body was way too sore for that. I flickered my eyes to the side, where I met the sharp, crimson gaze of Instructor Calia. 

She was leaning casually against the wall with a tablet in her hand, reading through something idly.

'How long has she been here?' I wondered. 'Did she watch me stare at the open air?'

"Uh," I wiped my eyes and swallowed the dryness in my throat. "How long have I been out?"

"Only a few hours." Calia stepped away from the wall, approaching my bed. "You burned yourself out pretty thoroughly. Honestly, I'm surprised you held out as long as you did with that terrible running form."

I grimaced. "Running's not really my thing."

"That much is evident," She didn't bother sugarcoating it. "In any case, you're awake now. And since you missed something important we implemented, I might as well show it to you now."

She swiped at her tablet, bringing up a display and turning it toward me.

I narrowed my eyes at the bright screen. A list of names scrolled vertically, each accompanied by a number. At the very bottom, my name blinked in bright red.

Rank #15 – Jyn

Calia tapped the screen. "You're all F-Class, but we now have a ranking system designed to foster competition growth. Everything is included in deciding your rank—combat effectiveness, power level, even theoretical knowledge."

I dragged my gaze away from the blinking red number. "I take it passing out mid-run is what put me at the bottom?"

"Pretty much. But that's to be expected when training has just started. Climbing the ranks isn't impossible, so don't worry." Calia stepped back, crossing her arms. "The top three recruits in your batch receive special rewards. Personalized training, direct access to better resources, and sometimes even the opportunity to tag along on field assignments."

Standard merit system, then. But that begged the question. "And what happens if I stay at the bottom? Would I be punished or something?"

Calia made a so-so motion. "Not… really? It just looks bad to graduate from F-Class at the very bottom. You'll probably be assigned to non-combat roles for a while. Logistics, communications, that kind of thing."

That… didn't sound too bad, actually. Honestly, I wasn't aiming to be some battlefield hero. I just liked the feeling of progress.

I was competing with myself, not any of these other people. And while one-on-one training would be nice, it wasn't like I couldn't get it somewhere else.

Earth alone had a ton of masters to learn from, much less the entire universe.

"Got it," I replied quietly. Then a thought struck me. "Oh, thanks for carrying me here, by the way."

She waved it off. "Just doing my job. At the rate you're going, we'll probably see each other here often."

I nodded, accepting that as reality. "Yeah, fair enough."

Then she sighed. "I was just teasing, don't be so hard on yourself."

"Oh."

She didn't seem like the type of person to joke around, so I didn't even consider it. Plus her delivery was way too dry. 

But her words weren't exactly wrong, I expected to be in the infirmary a lot so…

"Uh, sorry?" I tried.

Calia shook her head, clearly regretting the whole exchange. "Never mind. Forget it."

She turned on her heel and walked toward the door without another word. That was awkward, even if I didn't really understand what went wrong.

The screen's glow was still a bit jarring in the slightly dark room. I squinted at it, reading my name at the bottom once more.

The blinking red number was a sobering reminder that—

"Wait… uh, she left her tablet," I realized, cutting off my own train of thought. I didn't really care about my rank.

I stared at the device for a long moment.

"Am I supposed to give this back?"