Chapter 22 - Breaking down the Level Cap, maybe.

"Maybe a little sparring will kickstart it?" Danny added, trying to sound casual, but I could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"You want us to beat each other up?" Emily asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "Seriously?"

"It's just a thought," Danny mumbled, shrugging. "We're stuck, aren't we?"

Joey raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "I've got space in the infirmary."

My stomach twisted into a knot. This was escalating quickly. Part of me wanted to shut it down, to tell everyone to calm the fuck down. But another part, a more primal, frustrated part, was starting to see the twisted logic in it. We were fighters. Maybe that was the key. Or maybe we were all just losing it.

"So who's fighting who?" Chris asked, breaking the silence. His voice was surprisingly neutral, but I could see the glint of something in his eyes. Excitement? Apprehension? A mix of both, maybe.

All eyes turned to me. Right. Captain. Decision time. I looked at each of them, trying to gauge their expressions. Zoe was watching me intently, her arms crossed. Ryan looked eager, a little too eager. Emily seemed concerned, and Danny... well, Danny looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Fine," I said, the word escaping my lips before I could fully process it. "Let's go to the gym. But nothing serious. We're just testing this, got it?"

A wave of nods and murmurs of agreement rippled through the bridge. As we headed towards the gym, I could feel the tension rising with every step. This was either going to be a breakthrough or a complete disaster. And honestly? I wasn't sure which one I was dreading more.

The gym was spacious, equipped with everything from weights to sparring mats. The air smelled faintly of ozone and sweat. Not exactly the ideal place for a friendly spar. More like a place where things got real. And yeah, my stomach was doing somersaults now. This was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

"So, who's up first?" Ryan asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was ready to jump into a ring. He was practically vibrating with pent-up energy.

Everyone looked at me. Again. Because, you know, captain. "I'll do it," I said, stepping forward before anyone else could volunteer, or worse, volunteer me. "Ryan, you're up."

Ryan grinned, cracking his knuckles. "You got it, Captain."

"Just remember," I said, trying to inject some authority into my voice. "We're testing a theory. No killing each other."

Zoe snorted. "Where's the fun in that?" she teased, but I could see the hint of concern in her eyes.

Ryan and I faced each other in the center of the mat. He bounced lightly on his feet, his blue eyes glinting with challenge and something else. Something that made my stomach clench. Was this a mistake? Probably. But there was no turning back now. We were doing this. For better or for worse.

"Ready?" Ryan asked, raising his fists. His blonde hair fell across his forehead, and for a second, I just stared, my mind blank. Then, with a jolt, I mirrored his stance, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. This was it. Time to see if a little pain was the key to unlocking our potential. Or if we were all just a bunch of idiots, desperate for a fix.

Ryan and I circled each other, our movements mirroring each other. The gym lights reflected off the sweat beading on his forehead, and I could see the focused intensity in his eyes. This was ridiculous. We were supposed to be a team, and here we were, about to beat the shit out of each other on the off chance that it might magically fix our level cap problem.

Ryan threw the first punch, a tentative left hook that I easily blocked. It was soft, almost playful. Testing the waters. I responded with a right jab, equally light, aiming for his shoulder. We were feeling each other out, trying to figure out the fight.

"Come on, Luca," Emily called from the sidelines. "Is that all you've got?" Her voice was teasing, but I could hear the underlying tension. They were all watching us, their faces a blend of anticipation and apprehension. She looked worried for me.

I feinted to the left, then threw a right hook towards Ryan's ribs. He grunted as it connected, but he took it well. And yeah, his abs were tighter than I expected. Like hitting a wall of muscle. Where the hell had that come from?

The next few exchanges were more of the same. Feints, blocks, and light punches. I walloped him across the head, and yeah that was weak, more like bitch-slap. We were both holding back, testing each other, testing the theory. But it was starting to feel… real. The air crackled with a strange energy, adrenaline and something else. Something I didn't want to name.

"Still no XP," Ryan said, his voice a little breathless. He ducked under my left jab and landed a solid punch to my gut. I grunted, more from surprise than pain. How the hell was he checking his interface while we were fighting?

"How are you even looking at that right now?" I asked, circling him, trying to catch my breath. My eyes were glued to him, to the way his muscles moved under his skin, the way his blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. This was a mistake. A huge mistake.

Ryan grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. "Multitasking," he said, shrugging. "Gotta stay informed." Then he lunged, a flurry of punches aimed at my head and chest. I blocked most of them, but one connected with my jaw, sending a jolt of pain through me. And yeah, that one hurt. A lot.

"Take it seriously, you two!" Danny's voice cut through the air, laced with a hint of anxiety. "The system might not recognize it if you're just playing around."

"Oh, we're taking it seriously," Ryan said, his voice low and dangerous. He feinted left, then right, then landed another hard punch to my ribs. I stumbled back, gasping for air. That hurt. And the look in Ryan's eyes? That wasn't the look of a teammate. That was the look of a predator.

"Come on, hit him back!" Zoe shouted. She sounded excited, maybe a little too much. "Give us a show!"

"Yeah," Emily added, her voice laced with excitement, "Make it count!" Were they enjoying this? A little too much?

The pain in my ribs flared, a sharp reminder that I was in a fight, not a dance. And maybe, just maybe, Danny was right. We needed to take this seriously. A surge of adrenaline, hot and fierce, coursed through me. My vision narrowed, focusing on Ryan, on the way his muscles bunched under his skin, the sweat dripping down his temples. And yeah, I wanted to hurt him. Not just to test the system, but because he'd hurt me. Because he was standing there, looking at me like he was about to tear me apart, his legs moving like a wanna-be boxer. And maybe, just maybe, because I wanted him to look at me like that.

I launched myself at him, a flurry of punches aimed at his head and body. I felt a savage grin stretch my lips as my fists connected with his flesh, bone, and muscle. This was it. This was what we needed. Pain. Exertion. A real fight. And maybe, just maybe, a way to finally break through this fucking level cap.

My fist connected with his jaw, and I felt a thrill course through me, quickly followed by a sharp pain in my knuckles. He grunted, staggering back a step, but he didn't go down. Instead, he shook his head, his eyes clearing, and then he was on me, a whirlwind of fists and elbows. I tried to block, to counter, but he was too fast, too strong. A punch caught me in the temple, and the world spun. Another connected with my stomach, driving the air from my lungs. I stumbled, my legs turning to jelly. And then, with a final, brutal uppercut, Ryan sent me crashing to the mat.

The world went black.

"Maybe you were right," I heard Joey's voice, muffled and distant, as if from the end of a long tunnel. "Maybe we are missing something."

I tried to open my eyes, to speak, but everything was dark and heavy. My head throbbed, my body ached, and my thoughts were a jumbled mess. Had it worked? Was the level cap gone? Or had we just brutalized each other for nothing?

Then, strong arms were lifting me, pulling me to my feet. I blinked, my vision slowly clearing. Ryan was standing over me, his face etched with concern, and yeah, maybe a little bit of guilt. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he just held out a hand, helping me to my feet.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

I nodded, my head still spinning. "Yeah," I mumbled, my voice hoarse. "Just peachy."

Joey appeared beside me, holding a small spray bottle. "Here," he said, "this will help with the swelling." He sprayed something cool and soothing on my face, and the throbbing in my head eased slightly.

"So," I said, turning to look at Ryan, "Did it work?"

Ryan shook his head, glancing down at his hands. "Nothing."

A wave of exhaustion washed over me. We'd pushed ourselves, pushed each other, and for what? Nothing. We were still stuck. Still capped. And now, on top of everything else, I had a throbbing head and a bruised ego.

"Well, shit," I said, slumping against the wall. "Now what?"

Then a thought struck me, a very obvious, very stupid thought. "Hey, Ryan," I said, my voice a little dazed. "Do you even have a hand-to-hand combat skill?"

Ryan blinked, his grin faltering for a second. "Uh... no," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "Do you?"

I stared at him, then at the others, who were now looking at each other with dawning realization and sheepish embarrassment. "No," I said, my voice flat. "None of us do. We have weapons skills. Guns, mostly. You know, for shooting things. Not for... this." I gestured vaguely at my own face, then at the gym around us.

I wanted to facepalm, but my face hurt too much. Of all the dumb, impulsive, illogical things we'd done, this had to be near the top of the list. We were idiots. Well-meaning, desperate idiots, but idiots nonetheless.

Ryan, of course, chose that moment to grin again, that infuriatingly charming grin that made me want to punch him all over again. "Well," he said, clapping me on the shoulder, "at least we got a good workout in."

I glared at him, but even I had to admit, it was kind of funny. In a messed-up, we're-all-going-crazy-in-space kind of way. Though, I thought, maybe I should invest in a hand-to-hand combat skill if I ever came across a skill shard. Emily would probably kill me, though. We had spent hours working on my skill plan. Eh, what was one more skill?

***

We were a sorry sight as we stumbled into the lounge. I could feel every single bruise throbbing, a technicolor map of pain blossoming across my body. My face felt like one giant bruise, and I was pretty sure my ribs were cracked. But, at least Ryan was sporting a nasty shiner, so I wasn't the only one who'd paid the price for our little experiment. We were laughing, though, a slightly hysterical edge to it, fueled by adrenaline, relief, and the sheer absurdity of what we'd just done.

"Idiots," I muttered, shaking my head. "We're fucking idiots."

"Speak for yourself," Ryan said, wincing as he touched his swollen eye. "But hey, at least we tried."

I dimmed the lights in the lounge, letting the starlight spilling in through the wide windows take over. It was so goddamned romantic, I thought, glancing around for Emily. The soft glow from the small lamps bathed the leather couches and armchairs in a warm light, and yeah, I had to admit, the setup looked good. Like, better-than-usual good. I grabbed two bottles of wine from the stash my dad had handed me before we left, carefully opening them, trying not to spill like an idiot. This was a milestone, and we deserved to celebrate. Even if we were sporting fresh bruises.

Pouring the wine into glasses, I raised mine in an easy toast, the grin on my face more crooked than I’d planned, thanks to my swollen lip. “To surviving the Oort Cloud Passage and finally coasting into Alpha Centauri,” I said, my arm wrapped around Emily’s waist as she stood beside me. She looked amazing tonight, and yeah, so did the rest of the crew. There was something about making it through a mess like the Oort Cloud that made everyone shine a little brighter.

We all raised glasses, the soft clink of glassware blending with murmured agreements. It had been a rough couple of days, constant course adjustments, tension so thick it could’ve clogged the FTL drive, and no room for error. But now? We’d earned this. A breath, a slice of calm after all the chaos.

Emily passed out slices of pizza, the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni filling the room, and damn, it hit just right. “Courtesy of Luca’s oregano,” she teased, sprinkling some over Zoe’s slice with a flourish before handing it over. She paused as she passed me, her eyes tracing the colorful bruises blooming on my chest, visible beneath my sheer white shirt.

She moved around the room like she owned it, making everything feel better, easier, she had that magic about her. And then, before I could even process it, she was on my lap, settling in like it was the most natural thing in the world. My heart skipped a beat, and yeah, I was totally screwed. Every slight shift of her weight sent a jolt through my aching muscles, but I wasn't about to complain. Not when she felt this good pressed against me.

Zoe leaned into Ryan, biting into her slice with her eyes closed, practically humming with satisfaction. “God bless the hydroponic garden. Who knew oregano could taste this good?”

“Me,” I shot back, adjusting Emily on my lap and trying and failing to not focus on how good she felt pressed against me. Or how every slight movement made me acutely aware of just how badly Ryan had pummeled me. How was I supposed to be normal like this?

Across the room, Joey scrolled through the movie catalog like it owed him something, a deep frown etched on his face. “Man, is it just me, or do we have, like, no good movies left?” he griped, scrolling past the same tired titles we’d already seen twice. What a clown.

Danny laughed, leaning over the pool table as he lined up a shot. “That’s because you burned through anything decent weeks ago. Don’t blame the catalog, blame your garbage taste.” Always the smug bastard.

Chris swirled his wine like he was in some fancy parlor, his tone dripping with mock sophistication. “A man who devours Deathstalker four times in a row has no leg to stand on,” he said, smirking.

Joey shot him a glare, sticking his tongue out like a five-year-old before going back to his pointless search.

I leaned back, letting the sound of laughter and friendly jabs wash over me. This was nice. Normal. We’d made it. Everyone was here, and for once, everything felt right. For now, at least. And with Emily sitting on my lap, her warmth radiating through me like some kind of antidote to the universe’s bullshit, I couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, things were starting to look up. Even if my body felt like it had been trampled by a herd of space elephants.