I dragged the warriors with me, as if I were a force of nature.
My body exploded in a wave of brute force, the muscles filling with an abnormal, almost otherworldly energy.
For a brief instant, a black pattern—like the body of a centipede—appeared on my back, tracing lines like living tattoos before fading as quickly as it came.
By the time I finally stopped running, the black pattern on my back was gone, as if it had never existed. But the weight of exhaustion remained—and I had already dragged these enraged warriors for ten endless turns.
They were dusty, sweaty, with looks that bordered on insane, eyes burning with a fire that wasn't just physical—it was something deeper, more dangerous.
"It's a monster!" I heard one of them grumble, almost afraid.
"Let's increase the load!" someone ordered. "Bring more centipedes! Let's extinguish them from this forest!"
"I want another 100-kilogram ball for tomorrow!" shouted the chief, a firm voice, as if nothing could stop him.
"Boss, we can wear full armor on him while he runs and exercises. That way the pressure will be even greater" suggested one of the men, his eyes already shining with determination.
When a man's pride is at stake, his mind becomes blind and relentless.
They were testing the waters, throwing everything to see how far I could stand. If I could take it, they would increase even more—until I broke, or became something more.
"Are you capable? So let's extract every drop of its potential"
They would rather me die in training than take a loss to the Spear house. They would rather die than have their dignity wounded.
Two months passed like this.
My father was by my side, watching what I had become. His gaze was hard to decipher—there was a smile, yes, but he looked almost broken, as if he carried a huge weight on his chest.
In fact, I knew that all this training had an excuse behind it. He knew it too. But once again, he was genuinely shocked by the unjust cruelty of this world.
I didn't die. On the contrary: I became stronger, driven by an almost supernatural willpower. Tolerating that ordeal of exercise and pain for two months wasn't easy—it was an unimaginable transformation.
Benta, who has seen me grow since I was a baby, dropped the basket on the floor when he saw me. His gaze was full of fear and disbelief.
"God... What did you do?" his voice came out shaky, unable to hide his shock.
Doug, on the other hand, seemed to be mad as he finished my body measurements.
"We have created a god of war!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Two meters and forty centimeters tall, muscles that seem to be made of stone, the speed of three grown men and the strength of eight" he continued, pointing to one of the other warriors who approached with a wooden stick.
Reflexively, I used my arm to defend the baton that was coming against me.
"CRACK!" I heard the crack of the wood bending before it finally broke.
A quick silence, followed by an explosion of voices around me.
"That's red wood, woman! Red wood!" one of the warriors exclaimed, almost incredulous. "I can sit with my ass on top of one of those that she won't even creak! But this monster managed to break the toughest wood we have!"
The warriors vibrated, infected by the conquest. They tried too hard to get there.
I had mastered Accelerated Coordination in two months—a feat that few could achieve. But this time, they squeezed my potential to the max, forcing me to dominate in just one month.
The resources they sent to hunt centipedes and the artisans dedicated to making the necessary equipment were many—no expense was spared to make me grow.
"Are you okay?" Benta asked, her worried gaze searching for some hidden pain.
"I'm fine" I replied, smiling with amusement at the reaction of the others. I would be fine as long as my father remained proud of me.
Benta's gaze relaxed, a gentle relief coming over her face.
"Well, as long as you're okay, I'm happy" she said, pulling away as she gave a sign to my father.
He approached, with a countenance similar to that of a child about to be scolded by his mother.
Knowing that the boss would soon pay the price for his behavior, the surrounding soldiers relaxed, looking at me with a mixture of respect and curiosity.
"Hey boy, do you think you can beat me?" one of them teased, a defiant smile on his lips.
Hearing that, I couldn't contain a small smile on the corner of my mouth. The centipedes... they no longer had an effect on me. It had been two weeks since my body reacted to them as before. It was as if I had reached another level, a silent limit that no one had told me existed—and that I now crossed without realizing it.
I still didn't fully understand what that meant, but something inside me had changed. The light of life, that strange energy I felt pulsing in my bones, was different—denser, more alive, more mine. The bones themselves seemed reinforced, as if the iron had decided to fuse with my skeleton. My body grew. The muscles thickened. My reflexes were sharper, and the pain, that old acquaintance, had become only a distant whisper.
(If I touch him... I can break it) I thought in a low voice, I don't even know if it was out of arrogance or instinct.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged somewhere. Those moments with my father, even if hard, intense, almost wild, made something inside me calm down. For the first time... I felt like I was part of a family.
He looked me in the eyes and said only:
"The trial is tomorrow. Rest well today"
When he left, our gazes still locked for a few seconds. There was something there. Maybe respect. Maybe doubt. Or fear.
Outside, I could hear the veterans talking to each other, deep voices muffled by the thin walls of the tent.
"And then... What's his chance?" asked one of them.
"If he touches it, he kills it. But the experience and training of the guys from Lance are no joke. The boy loses in technique, but he has an absurd natural strength" replied one of the elders, with a serious, almost worried tone.
They knew that I had mastered the basics to perfection: accurate aim, superhuman coordination, full-power striking. I could blow up all of this at once, without wasting a thousandth of a force. But what was missing for me... it was the real field. Real combats, against fighters who were born training to kill.
And Casa Lance was famous for that.
"If he stays calm... It's five to five" said another veteran, swallowing. "But if the red eye appears... if he gets into that state of rage... the guy from Lance has no chance"
That state... that outbreak...
No one could contain me when that happened. Not even them, together.
It was as if... another part of me to take control. A sealed monster that the light of life brought to the surface. Something new. Something never seen before.
It was always said that the light of life possessed four abilities. But I... I accessed a fifth. An explosion of strength, wild and indomitable, as if the very spark of creation burned inside me.
They were scared. I could hear it in the pauses, in the sighs, in the heavy silence between each sentence.
And me?
I was ready.