The First Iron Temple was operating at maximum capacity, and the air was thick with the beautiful, chaotic symphony of progress.
It had been three days since Bombom had snapped the arm-wrestling table—and Lord Aelius's ego—in half. Since then, memberships had skyrocketed. The gym was packed with students grunting, sweating, and discovering muscles they never knew they had.
Taguro was in the corner, acting as a human generator, using his lightning magic to power a row of makeshift wooden treadmills. Gluteus was hosting a seminar on the biomechanics of the royal deadlift to a crowd of mesmerized dwarves.
DragonSlayer, meanwhile, was doing seated bicep curls in front of the mirrored wall. He was aggressively trying to focus on his own peaks, but his visible eye kept betraying him, drifting over to the center of the room where Bombom was demonstrating proper plank form.
