A week had passed since Lucas had paid a visit to the palace and met her—his new instructor. Or, as he preferred to call her in his head: the demon in human skin.
The demo—ahem—his instructor, Anya, had wasted no time at all. The day after their meeting, she started their training. While the actual exercises weren't the worst things in the world—running, squats, sit-ups, pushups—it was the method behind the madness that left Lucas mentally exhausted.
There were no breaks.
No mercy.
No water breaks,
Anya had only one rule: Don't stop until it's done.
"I swear, if I survive this, I'm going to write a manual on 'How to Deal with Psychopaths Disguised as Instructors,'" Lucas muttered to himself one morning as he lay on the training mat, panting.
Despite the suffering, Lucas had to admit—there were some upsides.
For one, his daily system quests were being completed automatically. His physical stats were steadily increasing, and he could already feel the difference. His once-skinny arms were starting to tighten up, with actual definition beginning to show.
He flexed them a little and smirked. "Looking sharp, runy and Dave."
Anya might be several levels of insane, but maybe… just maybe… that was exactly what he needed.
As if summoned by his thoughts (or perhaps she just had a terrifying sixth sense), Anya strolled into the training hall with her usual predatory grin.
"Hey, brat!" she barked. "What the hell are you doing standing there like a lost puppy? You're supposed to be on the floor, burning off your breakfast with those push-ups!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Lucas didn't hesitate. The moment her voice echoed through the hall, he felt a chill creep down his spine. Sweat pooled at the nape of his neck as he dropped to the floor with military precision and resumed his workout.
No talking back.
No hesitation.
Not unless he wanted to taste the "special motivational slap" she gave out like candy on Halloween.
Hours passed. Lucas finished his morning routine drenched in sweat and on the verge of collapse. Just as he was done drinking water to quench his thirst, Anya's voice called out again.
"Oi, brat. Come here."
Lucas obeyed, his limbs trembling slightly from the intense workout. He approached her, wiping his face with a towel.
Anya studied him for a moment, arms crossed. "It's been a week since I took you under my wing. And I gotta admit, you're doing okay. You haven't passed out. You haven't cried. You haven't begged to go home to mommy."
"Thanks, I guess?" Lucas replied, half-sarcastic.
"But," she continued, "everything you've done so far? That was just the warm-up. A gauge, really. I needed to see what kind of brat I was dealing with before I wasted real effort on you."
Lucas tensed slightly.
"When the King asked me to train you, he told me to go easy since you're, you know, five years old. But that's up to you. So, tell me."
Her eyes sharpened, glowing faintly with a fierce light.
"Do you want the princess treatment? Pat on the head, gold star stickers, nap breaks between pushups? Or do you want me to bring out the best in you—even if that means dragging your little body through hellfire?"
Lucas stared at her for a long second… then smiled.
"I think you already know my answer, Teacher."
He cracked his knuckles and straightened his spine.
"There's no fun in taking the easy road. I prefer doing things the hard way, not being pampered."
Anya blinked… then let out a laugh so loud it shook the walls. "HAHAHA! I knew it! You've got screws loose in that little head of yours, brat—but I like it."
She walked forward and patted him on the back—well, more like slapped it. Lucas staggered forward.
"Let me give you a warning though. No one's ever made it through my full training before. They either quit… or got carted off . And you? You don't get to quit. Not with that Saint title hanging over your head."
Lucas winced. "It's not like I expected anything less from you anyway. And I'm pretty sure you'd lock the doors even if I did try to leave."
"Haha! Damn right I would."
She ruffled his hair. "You're a weird one. Sometimes I forget you're five. For someone who just stopped wearing diapers, you've got guts."
"Thanks... I think?"
Suddenly, a soft chime echoed in Lucas' head.
[New Quest]Survive the First Stage of Anya's TrainingReward: [Inspect Skill] + 500 EXP + 30 Free Stat PointsPenalty: None(System advice: You're gonna need a miracle, buddy.)
Lucas sighed. "Of course. Now my system's joining in on the bullying too."
The following week? Torture.
There was no other word for it.
His training regimen had been completely overhauled. What once was a simple kilometer jog had now become a 20-kilometer run—every single day.
Along with that came 500 sit-ups, 500 push-ups, and a series of complex stretches that could make an adult cry.
And Lucas? Lucas did all of it. Every rep. Every kilometer. Every single drop of sweat.
At times, he collapsed from exhaustion, muscles trembling and skin bruised.
But Anya was a master of healing magic, and she used it daily to restore his body to perfect condition… so he could do it all over again the next day.
"Your pain is nothing," she told him during one particularly brutal session, as she watched him struggle to lift himself for his 470th pushup. "You might actually face things that are more worst."
"That's what all psychopaths say," Lucas muttered under his breath.
"Hey!!. What was that, brat?"
"Nothing, Teacher!"
Still, he couldn't deny that it was working. The system reflected it clearly—his stats were increasing. His strength, agility, and endurance had doubled. His stamina bar barely budged during the morning runs now.
More importantly, he had finally reached the Novice stage. He could feel the warmth of mana building deep within his core, waiting to be unleashed.
One evening, after another day of grueling exercise, Lucas sat under the tree behind the training grounds, staring up at the stars.
Anya walked over with two flasks in hand. "Here. Drink this."
He took the flask and sniffed. It smelled like burnt herbs and regret.
"Is this poison?"
"Recovery tonic. Stops you from waking up sore. Probably."
Thanks
"You're welcomed, brat,"
She leaned back on her elbows, her gaze fixed on the sky. "You've got potential. Raw, terrifying potential. But power means nothing if your body can't handle it. I'm going to push you past your limits because what's coming is not something that a normal person can handle."
Lucas nodded quietly.
They sat in silence for a while.
Then Anya smirked. "Also, it's kinda fun watching you suffer."
"Of course it is," Lucas said with a tired grin. "Sadist."
"Masochist."
"Takes one to know one."
They both laughed.