Heavy breathing, the crunch of dry autumn leaves, and loud footsteps echoed as a brown-haired boy ran after a black-haired boy. Beads of sweat ran down both of their foreheads.
"Come on, let's run... let's get rid of those bellies! Faster!" Max demanded as he waved a stick in the air.
"But we don't even have bellies!" complained Gouten, his black hair bouncing to the rhythm of his jogging. "You said our genetics were made for fighting!"
"Exactly! So why do we have to run 50 laps around Mr. Baldur's dojo?" asked Oliver, just as tired as Gouten.
"That's a lie. It's not 50 laps, I said 500..." Max corrected with a mischievous smile. "Now stop complaining and run! Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth! And don't stop!"
"If you stop... there's a stick!"
From a nearby chair, Baldur watched with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.
"Don't you think this is too much, Max? It's only been two days since they agreed to train with you..."
"Not at all..." Max replied without taking his eyes off the boys. "That's how I trained on the planet Terra. They made us run 50 km a day to improve our endurance. Our bodies had to be prepared to endure battles that lasted for days if necessary..."
"Hmm... I see... Tell me about your world, Max," Baldur asked kindly, although his gaze carefully judged Oliver and Gouten's training. "Why did you receive military training at such a young age?"
"It's a Senkayne tradition... it's our way of thanking the Terrans for their hospitality on their own planet," Max explained, watching as Gouten and Oliver reached lap number 38.
"I don't understand... Isn't Terra your home planet?"
"Yes, it is... but not the Senkaynes'. Hundreds of years ago, our race was at war with another race called the Celestials... Because of that war, our planet was destroyed. But luckily, the king of our world had strong ties to the king of Terra at that time... before our planet was destroyed, all our people migrated to Terra. As a token of our gratitude, we agreed to join the Terran army.
"That doesn't explain why you were in the military at such a young age... You arrived here at the age of 9 and already knew how to fight skillfully," insisted Baldur.
"We Senkaynes train from the age of five to become formidable warriors. We had to be strong... to protect the people who prevented us from becoming extinct," Max replied calmly, but also with a hint of pride.
"It sounds like a noble act... but it also sounds dehumanizing for children," Baldur said, frowning.
"Let me clarify that we are not human..." Max clarified firmly. "Although from your point of view it may seem that way, the queen of the planet Terra, Kalisha, suggested abandoning that tradition. She argued that there were no longer any pure Senkayns or Terrans on the planet... but we didn't want to leave behind our way of showing gratitude. Obviously, there are exceptions. Not all families sent their children to be soldiers in the service of the Terrans...
"So you're a hybrid between Senkayn and Terran?" Baldur asked with some surprise.
"Of course," Max replied calmly. "Don't worry, Mr. Baldur, I'm only going to use the methods I was trained with... They'll be strong, tough... even disciplined boys.
"I must confess that I'm afraid of the methods you're going to use, Max..." Baldur muttered, visibly concerned.
"Don't worry, sir. It won't be anything... out of this world," Max joked with a smile.
But Baldur got up from his seat without saying another word and walked into the house. Max watched him with a serious expression, his smile now gone.
"Something tells me I'm going to have problems with Mr. Baldur..." Max thought, feeling the cold autumn breeze....
"Damn it... how many laps are we on?" Gouten exhaled, exhausted as he jogged.
"About... 62 laps..." Oliver replied, also panting.
"Do we really have to do 500 laps!?" complained Gouten, tripping and falling to the ground. "My legs won't move anymore..."
"Gouten!" warned Oliver, starting to run faster.
"What's wrong?" asked Gouten, confused.
But instantly, BAM! He felt a sharp blow to his butt.
"OW!" he shouted, jumping up and shooting off like a bullet, running just as fast as Oliver.
"I said there would be a stick! Fair warning!" shouted Max, waving his stick with an annoyed expression.
Six hours had passed. Oliver and Gouten finally managed to complete the last lap...
Both boys were exhausted, their hands resting on their knees as their chests rose and fell with heavy breathing.
"Is this what death feels like...?" asked Oliver, breathless.
"Not even my bathroom sessions are this intense..." added Gouten, trying to catch his breath.
"My legs hurt... and my butt..."
"If my lungs could talk, they'd be begging for mercy..."
"That bastard Max... he hits really hard!" complained Gouten, managing to stand up with difficulty.
"Did you say something?" asked Max, approaching them while tapping his right palm with his stick.
"N-no, I didn't say anything..." Gouten quickly corrected himself. "Everything is fine..."
"Excellent," smiled Max. "Since you ran for six hours... now you will hold your weight for another six hours."
"WHAT?!" the boys shouted in unison, their bodies shaking with exhaustion.
"Max... if I've done something to you... forgive me!" Gouten pleaded.
"Don't be dramatic... tomorrow you'll be as good as new..." Max replied calmly.
"Lie face down, rest your elbows on the floor, and hold on... When I say so, you'll jump with your arms and do push-ups; when I repeat it, you'll rest your elbows again..." Max explained with a confident smile.
"But..." Oliver whispered, his legs shaking from sheer exhaustion.
"Now..." Max ordered.
Another six hours passed. The sunset painted the sky with its beautiful orange color, while the autumn chill grew more intense. The front door of Baldur's house opened, and Max entered, dragging his two students by the collars of their jackets.
The training had been so brutal that they couldn't even move their legs...
"You're exaggerating... this training was super light. It's not like I made you pull up trees or lift rocks..." Max complained in a carefree tone.
"It was too much for a first time..." Oliver thought, staring blankly at the ceiling lamp.
"They're exhausted..." Baldur commented with concern. "Are they okay?"
"Not today... but tomorrow they'll be as good as new..." Max replied calmly.
"Max... why was this the first training session?" Gouten asked painfully, his cheek pressed against the floor.
"You have to exploit the genetics of a Senkayn... pushing the body and then letting it rest causes rapid adaptation to the environment. It makes us evolve..." Max explained.
"I don't understand..." Oliver confessed.
"The body says, 'Oh, for some reason this kid needs to run 50 km and hold his weight for 6 hours, wow! I'm going to have to adapt,' and 'boom,' the same body gets stronger to survive the next session..."
"Sure... it adapts to 50 km, but not to 12 spoonfuls of sugar in tea. I hate myself..." sighed Gouten.
"When you grow up, you're going to have diabetes..." Oliver commented, pained.
"What's diabetes?" asked Gouten, confused.
"I think it's the frequent urge to go to the bathroom..."
"That's diarrhea, idiot..." Max interrupted irritably. "Stop complaining and go take a bath."
"Go... when you're done, come back for dinner..." Baldur asked them kindly.
Oliver and Gouten made their way to the bathroom with slow steps and shaky legs. When they disappeared from the room, Baldur turned to Max with a disapproving look.
"I still think the training was overkill... you didn't even allow them a break to rest or have a snack. What are you trying to achieve, Max?"
"They wanted to be as strong as me, Mr. Baldur... I'm just granting them their wish..." Max said calmly.
"Is that your excuse for exploiting their bodies like that?" Baldur asked seriously. "Do you think their bodies are made of rubber? You could take it easy with the training, but this seems rushed, Max... Listen to me: the environment affects performance..."
"I know what I'm doing, Baldur... don't meddle in what you don't understand..." Max replied firmly.
"What will happen when you cause irreparable damage to your brother or cousin? How will you compensate them?" Baldur insisted.
"Don't talk to me in that tone..." Max ordered, clenching his fist tightly.
"Are you really going to behave like this, boy?" asked Baldur, disappointed. "You're on the wrong path, Max... you're only setting yourself up for ruin..."
"What do you know about losing everything so young?" replied Max, with an intense look that reflected his inner fury.
Baldur was silent for a moment.
"Do you know what it means to destroy what you already had for a simple desire?" Baldur asked, leaving Max silent and confused.
"It doesn't matter..." Max replied abruptly, turning his head away and leaving the room.
Baldur just stood there, letting out a tense sigh.
That night, dinner felt uncomfortable. A strange feeling caused Oliver and Gouten to look at each other in confusion, afraid to speak, as Max seemed upset for some reason and Baldur was simply silent, staring at his plate.
The rice and meat that night did not taste as delicious as usual.
"I'm not hungry..." Max said, rising rudely from the table and leaving the house. He walked straight to the hut where his room was.
<< The main house only has one master bedroom, so Oliver and Gouten live in one of the turtle shell-shaped huts, and Max has another one just for himself. >>
"What happened, Mr. Baldur?" Oliver asked curiously.
"Nothing happened, Oliver..." the man replied.
Baldur smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, and he did his best to hide his concern from the boys.
"Finish your dinner and go to bed. Let your bodies rest... okay?"
"Yes, Mr. Baldur..." the two boys replied.