Re-Life Leveling Up-Chapter 7: New Quest...?

By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, steam still swirling around me like I was in my own personal fog machine at a rock concert, I felt like a new man—or at least a less grimy, exhausted version of myself.

The warm water had been a magical cure for my aching muscles and sweat-streaked face, transforming me from a disaster survivor to someone who might just make it through the night without collapsing. I rubbed a towel over my damp hair as I padded into the hallway, the sound of my bare feet soft against the cool wooden floor. The faint scent of lavender soap clung to me, a comforting contrast to the lingering traces of burnt food that still hung in the air, a subtle reminder of my earlier culinary disaster.

The clink of keys turning in the lock made my heart skip a beat. The door creaked open with the enthusiasm of a slow-motion horror scene, revealing a petite woman in her early forties. Her short black hair framed a face full of sharp angles softened by warm brown eyes that seemed to see right through you. She wore a simple gray blouse and slacks, her sensible shoes tapping softly on the floor as she stepped inside. Mom paused in the doorway, her eyes immediately scanning the apartment like a hawk looking for her prey, or in this case, any sign of her son's latest misadventure.

"Adan?" Her voice was light but carried the unmistakable weight of maternal authority. She sniffed the air, her brow arching as a familiar mix of suspicion and curiosity flickered across her features. "What is that smell? Did you try to make perfume out of burnt toast?"

I forced a grin, my towel draped casually over my shoulders like some kind of makeshift cape. "Hey, Mom! You're home early." Even though I said this, it was pretty late right now; the clock on the wall showed it was past 9 PM, and the darkness outside was only broken by the occasional streetlight.

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't change the subject. Did you burn something? Or was this just your attempt at creating a new smoke signal?"

I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my head, my fingers tangling in my still-damp hair. "Well, there might have been an... incident with the stove. But it's all under control now! Or at least, not on fire anymore."

"Adan," she sighed, stepping further inside and shutting the door behind her with a gentle click that sounded more ominous than any horror movie door. Her gaze landed on the kitchen where the evidence of my earlier debacle still lingered—a scorched pan soaking in the sink, a few charred vegetable scraps on the counter, and the faint but undeniable aroma of culinary catastrophe. She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long breath. "What happened here? ". she asked in low voice showing how tired she is.

"It was... a minor incident," I said sheepishly, spreading my hands. "But don't worry! I fixed it. Dinner's ready, and this time, it's actually edible."

She crossed her arms, a dubious expression tightening her lips. "You cooked dinner?" Her eyes darted to the dining table, where plates and cutlery were neatly set around a centerpiece of steaming dishes that looked surprisingly competent. Her brow arched even higher. "And it's not on fire?"

"No fire," I confirmed, raising a hand as if taking an oath. "I promise."

Her gaze softened, a glimmer of amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Well, that's a miracle in itself. Remember that time you tried to make stew and burned the food and the pan so badly we had to throw it away? I still don't know how you manage to burn the pan so badly".

My grin faltered slightly as the memory resurfaced—the acrid smoke, the shrill blare of the fire alarm, and my mom's horrified expression as she stared at the charred remains of what was supposed to be dinner. I had been so proud of my "creative" cooking technique back then. She's got a point, I thought, suppressing a grimace. I really did almost destroy the kitchen that day.

But tonight was different. Clearing away the earlier mess had felt like a tactical retreat. Once I saw how bad things were, I dumped the disaster straight into the trash, scrubbed the counter clean with lemon-scented detergent, and started from scratch. That guided cooking mode had been a literal lifesaver. My eyes flicked toward the system window, hidden from Mom's view, and a surge of gratitude filled my chest. Thank you, system, I thought, offering a mental salute.

I pulled out a chair for her with a flourish, the wood scraping lightly against the floor. "Sit, sit. Try it. Unless you want to wait for the next fire alarm."

She approached cautiously, like someone inspecting a suspicious gift, and took a seat. I watched with bated breath as she cut into the chicken, her knife slicing cleanly through the golden-brown crust. She lifted a forkful to her lips, her expression unreadable as she chewed slowly, the only sound in the room the ticking of the old clock on the wall, which seemed to be counting down to her verdict.

The silence stretched for a beat too long.

"Well?" I prompted, leaning forward anxiously, my heart doing somersaults in my chest.

Her eyes met mine, twinkling with barely contained mischief. "It's not bad. Did you order this from somewhere?"

I exhaled in relief, a grin breaking across my face. "Not bad? That's it? Come on, Mom, I slaved over this stove for you!"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Fine. It's actually pretty good." She took another bite, nodding approvingly. "The chicken is tender, the vegetables are seasoned well—even the pasta isn't overcooked. I'm impressed. Did the system come with a secret chef module?"

I puffed out my chest dramatically. "See? Told you I could handle it."

"Don't get cocky," she warned, pointing her fork at me. "One decent meal doesn't make you a chef. It's a miracle that you didn't burn anything this time."

"Fair enough," I said, sitting down across from her with a slight shrug. "But it's a start."

She smiled warmly, the lines around her eyes crinkling with affection. "It's definitely a start."

We ate together, the cozy kitchen filling with the clatter of forks against plates and the comfortable rhythm of shared conversation. The fluorescent light cast a gentle glow over the table, highlighting the simple but satisfying meal between us. The walls, decorated with old family photos and a clock that ticked softly in the background, seemed to lean in close, embracing the warmth of the moment. Outside, the city lights flickered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, diffused light into the room, creating a peaceful ambiance.

Mom arched an eyebrow as she speared another piece of chicken with her fork, the metal clinking softly. "You seriously cooked dinner? I was joking earlier when I said you'd be making it."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Well, joke's on you, I guess."

She took a bite, savoring the flavors before nodding in approval. "This is actually pretty good. You didn't order a takeaway and microwave and served it, did you?".

"Do you really think so? the proof is right in front of you" I pointed towards the kitchen as said to mom in confident tone.

"It's really surprising" she said as she continued to eat.

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises," I deflected, reaching for more rice as I avoided her gaze, the grains glistening under the kitchen light.

She set her fork down, her expression softening with genuine curiosity. "How was your day? Did you fight any dragons?"

The question hung in the air, far too simple for what had truly happened. The adventures, the danger, the chaos—I couldn't tell her any of that. "Pretty normal," I said, carefully constructing a believable version of the truth. "Went out for a bit, to feel some air and bought some groceries for dinner, nothing special."

Her eyes searched mine, but I kept my expression even. The last thing I wanted was for her to worry. "Well," she said after a moment, "if normal days lead to dinner like this, maybe I should start joking about you cooking more often. Or at least, not burning down the kitchen."

I chuckled, letting the tension dissolve as we returned to our meal. Inside, though, I marveled at how much had happened—and how much I had managed to keep hidden in plain sight.

We finished the meal with lighthearted banter, the evening air cool and crisp as it drifted in through the open window, carrying the distant sounds of the city. The hum of traffic and the occasional laughter from neighbors created a backdrop to our quiet dinner. The kitchen, now filled with the scent of a successful meal, felt like a sanctuary.

"You did good tonight," Mom said as I loaded the dishes into the sink, the water splashing softly. "Thank you for making dinner."

I felt really good after hearing my mom's praise; it made all the trouble and effort worth it.

"It's nothing, Mom, compared to how much you do for me," I said with a warm smile.

As I dried my hands on the towel and turned to help her with the dishes, Mom waved me off with a playful but firm glare, her eyes twinkling.

"Adan, you've done enough for tonight. Go rest. I'll handle this," she said, rolling up her sleeves, revealing the small, intricate tattoos she had on her wrists—remnants of her youthful rebellion.

"But, Mom—"

"No buts," she interrupted, giving me that no-nonsense tone I knew better than to argue with. "You cooked dinner. It's only fair I clean up. Now shoo, before you decide to 'help' with the dishes and end up flooding the kitchen."

I chuckled, raising my hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Goodnight, Mom."

She smiled warmly, the same way she always did when her maternal pride shone through. "Goodnight, Adan. Sleep well."

I turned and made my way to my room, the familiar creak of the wooden floorboards following my steps, each one a note in the lullaby of our home. My room was used to a sanctuary of chaos, with books piled high, game posters on the walls, and a desk cluttered with the remnants of my day-to-day life but today it was much looking like a room. I threw myself onto the bed, the mattress sighing under my weight.

Collapsing onto the bed, I exhaled deeply, feeling the day's weight settle into my bones. My body ached in places I didn't even know had muscles, a testament how far out of my comfort zone I'd ventured. The sheets, cool against my skin, provided a stark contrast to the day's heat.

Cooking, cleaning, running from Jason—it all added up. Today was unlike any other in my usual routine of lounging around, gaming, and avoiding responsibility. It had been chaotic, unpredictable, and utterly exhausting. Yet, somehow, I felt... accomplished.

Staring at the ceiling, my mind began to wander. High school loomed just a month away—a challenge that felt bigger and scarier than even today's trials. How was I going to survive it? The thought made my chest tighten, but I pushed past the anxiety.

One step at a time, I told myself. Just like cooking dinner tonight. Start small, keep trying, and eventually, you'll figure it out.

The 𝘮ost uptodat𝑒 novels are pub𝙡ished on freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

A decision formed in the quiet of my room. I would approach high school the same way I approached today—with determination and the willingness to adapt. No more coasting through life. I had to put in the effort, no matter how uncomfortable or difficult it got.

The corners of my lips twitched into a tired smile. Maybe, just maybe, I could do this.

I was on the verge of sleep, my eyes growing heavy, when a faint chime broke through the silence.

---

Ding!

[New Quest Generated!]

---

My heart skipped a beat. On hearing the system notification sound in my ears.

I turned my head toward the source of the sound, but exhaustion had already claimed me. My eyelids drooped, and I barely registered the faint glow of a system notification in the corner of my vision before sleep pulled me under. The last thought before succumbing was one of hope and determination—a new Chapter was beginning, in my life.

In the silence of my room, I fall asleep with the glowing window floating in midair.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N:

Hi Readers!!

Your Author here!

Thank you so much for sticking with Adan's story so far! While the pace has been slower in the beginning, things are about to pick up. The training arc is just around the corner, and Adan's transformation will truly begin. You'll also meet exciting new characters—some allies, some rivals—who will make the story even more engaging.

Your support means everything to me! If you're enjoying the novel, please consider:

Donating Power Stones, Adding to Library, Sharing with Friends

Your encouragement fuels my passion to keep writing. Let's continue this adventure together.

With gratitude,

Your Author