"Aah... Aah... aah..." My breath came out choppy, heavy, almost animalistic.
Sweat ran down my face and down my back like hot rivers, darkening the hem of my training shorts. My arms were on fire. The veins jumped, pulsing violently with each movement. And even then, my hands wouldn't let go of the thick steel rod above my head. Each climb was a challenge. Each descent, a warning of the approaching limit.
The chin-up seemed to want to reject me. He shouted silently: (Caia. Give up)
But I didn't fall.
Strapped to my waist was the weight of hell—a braided steel chain, reinforced with five spheres of raw metal, each weighing a hundred pounds. They pulled me down as if they wanted to swallow me. With each repetition, I lifted no less than five hundred kilos with the sheer force of my will.
Next to me, my father counted as a general on a battlefield. His gaze was not one of support — it was one of provocation. A constant challenge.
"Twenty-five!" he shouted.
I swallowed hard.
"Twenty-six!" louder.
The world began to blur. The sunlight above me seemed more intense, almost cruel.
"Twenty-seven!" my body trembled.
"Twenty-eight!" my vision darkened at the edges.
"Twenty-nine!" my arms failed for an instant.
My arms shook violently. The steel bar slid a few millimeters into my hands. My fingers were starting to fail. The world around me began to spin, the edges of my vision darkening. Every beat of my heart was like the rumble of a war drum in my ears.
I stopped. Suspended. Shaky. And for a moment, I almost gave in.
(Damn... No... not now...) I thought.
"What's wrong!?" My father roared beside me, his voice like thunder. "Can't you!? Are you weak!? Will you let the bastard of the Spear family win?! That's it?! Are you going to let it?! Are you going to hand over the honor of your home into the hands of another?!"
His words hit me with more weight than the entire chain. It was as if each sentence pushed a blade into my pride.
All around, the warriors-in-training began to shout in unison, as if they were in an arena:
"One more!"
"One more!"
"One more!"
The bar was slipping. The metal cut me. I felt the tendons in my arms burning like iron bars about to break.
But I wasn't going to give in.
Not with everyone watching.
Not with my father challenging me.
And, above all, not with that bastard of the Lança family hovering over everyone's thoughts.
I clenched my teeth so hard that I felt my jaw vibrate. I gave a hoarse scream, more a roar of anger than of effort, and pulled.
Slowly—very slowly—my body began to rise. The screams grew around me, echoing like a storm around my mind. Every inch was a victory. Every second, an eternity.
And then...
"THIRTY!!" My father shouted, his fist clenched in the air.
When I finished the series, the roar of the warriors echoed like thunder. The entire Udrak house seemed to have come alive with the presence of the Lança family in court. They knew what that visit meant, they were not fools. And that seemed to have inflamed my father even more. A possessed man, who took me beyond human limits.
Every morning, a team of guards would go out to hunt giant centipedes, bringing their prey for me to use as food and training tools. My body was pushed to the limit every day, without respite.
My muscles were still throbbing with sweat as I stood up slowly, but before I could rest, my father's authoritative voice cut me off.
"What are you doing? Why aren't you running?! RUN!!"
Before I could react, I was pulled to the training track.
When my arms had no more strength, I had to run. When my body couldn't handle running, it was time to get back to lifting weights. Only when I was completely useless, then—and only then—could I rest.
A two-wheeled carriage was strapped to my waist, and I was forced to run in circles on the track. To add weight, other warriors stepped into the carriage, laughing as they made me carry their weight.
My heart felt like it was going to explode in my chest. At every step, it felt like my father wanted to kill me—or at least that's the feeling I had. The routine only increased, getting more and more insane. I suspected that, in a way, he wanted to see me die there, forged on the edge of exhaustion. But deep down, I knew he loved me. This was a competition between families—a silent war fought in sweat and pain.
After more than ten laps, I was pulled into the training room, where I was forced to eat raw centipedes—the fuel to keep going. I barely had time to recover my energy when they already put me on my feet with the bow in my hand. I started archery training, then fencing, and soon advanced to training with polearms.
The load increased every day, the repetitions became bigger and bigger goals.
A month later, at the height of my limit...
"CEM!!" I screamed along with my father, releasing the fixed bar with a thunderous thud.
The six very heavy metal balls collided with the ground, causing the ground to tremble.
He no longer felt my arms. The breath came in a short and difficult breath.
While I was trying to catch my breath, the warriors were already dragging the food to feed me.
The cage opened before me, and without thinking I grabbed all the centipedes I could. The heat of my body increased with each bite, the strange, rough texture of the carapace mingled with the bitter taste of warm blood. Chewing those creatures was a ritual, a cruel fuel for my tired body.
"Time for the race!" cried my father, his face red and his voice full of fury.
With no choice, I stood up, each muscle protesting, and looked at the bar up there, about ten meters away. Before reaching the bar, I needed to climb.
With my stomach on fire, I walked to the carriage. Now she was loaded with iron ingots, extra weight to sink me into exhaustion. I held the two steel chains firmly in each hand.
Gradually, I began to advance, step by step, as the warriors of my family pushed the carriage back with all the strength they had.
I felt my legs swell, my muscles pulsating, veins dilating like ropes ready to burst. With every step I took, the ground seemed to crack under my weight.
"COME ON, YOU SHIT!" Someone shouted.
"SPEED IT UP!" came another command.
"DON'T MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF!" My father's voice tore through the air.
"AAAAAAHHHH!!" I let out a guttural roar, saliva splashing from my teeth as I charged forward with the fury of an uncontrolled bull.