"Huff… huff…"
I wonder how many laps I've run. I lost count after forty-two. Each time I'm about to collapse, a man from the Shadow Regiment appears at my side, holding out a potion. The crimson liquid slides down my throat, burning, forcing life back into me.
My vision keeps blurring. My feet feel like they're splitting apart, every step a knife carving into my soles. My lungs… they feel swollen, too tight to hold air. And this is just the first part of the routine.
Darkness gathers at the edges of my vision. My knees wobble.
"Young Prince, here," a shadow's voice cuts through, steady, unyielding. "Drink. You're almost there. Just hang on a bit longer."
In his thoughts, I can almost hear the disbelief. I didn't think he could last this long, even with potions. These brews heal injuries, recharge stamina—but they don't erase fatigue. Any normal child would've fainted by now. Yet this boy… he keeps running. He's truly something.
I grab the potion with trembling fingers and drink again. By now I must have downed thirty of them, maybe more. And strangely… it doesn't just recharge me. It feels like it's carving out more room inside me, stretching my limits, building something new.
"Stop!" The sharp command cracks the air.
"Your one hundred laps are complete. Now, push-up position. Second part of training begins. You've tested stamina and endurance. Now comes strength."
I fall to the ground, chest heaving. My arms barely listen to me, but I force them to lock in place.
"One thousand push-ups. No breaks. Potions will be provided. This will forge your chest, triceps, and shoulders. Strength to bear your power."
I press down. My arms bend. My chest sinks.
Smack!
A strike lashes across my back, sending me sprawling. Pain bursts like fire.
"Wrong form, young Prince." The shadow's tone is cold, but not mocking—simply final. "Watch. Shoulders retracted. Elbows tucked. Core tight. Lower slowly… then explode up. That is a push-up."
I bite my lip, reposition, and copy his stance. This time, no strike falls.
Seconds pass. Minutes. Hours. Sweat stings my eyes. My arms quiver, body screaming to stop. But I keep counting.
"...Nine hundred ninety-seven… nine hundred ninety-eight… nine hundred ninety-nine… one thousand!"
"Good. No rest."
I collapse for half a heartbeat before another voice pushes me up again.
"Sit-ups. One thousand. Core strength will give you stability. Without it, you'll never swing properly."
I grit my teeth and start again. My stomach burns with every motion, the ache cutting deeper than the laps ever did. Even with potions, the soreness lingers. Pain may fade, but fatigue clings like a shadow that won't let go.
Why physical training? The question gnaws at me. What do strong muscles have to do with mana veins and arteries?
But then I remember Mother's words. If your body is weak, your mind will crumble. This path is not ordinary.
So I push. Sit-up after sit-up. Until at last—
"998… 999… 1000."
"Up! Squats."
My legs scream in protest before I even begin. They're the worst—maybe because of those hundred laps around the endless training grounds. But I don't argue. I bend. Rise. Bend. Rise. The world sways around me, but I keep going.
Hours bleed away. I barely notice the transition from squats to pull-ups, from pull-ups to sword swings. My arms tremble, my hands blister, the wooden grip slick with blood. Each time skin tears, each time crimson stains my blade, I feel something strange.
For a moment, I forget fatigue. Forget pain. The blood steadies me, calls to me. It feels… right. A connection I can't explain.
But before I can linger, rough hands seize my jaw, forcing another potion between my lips. The shadows don't let me taste that blood for long. On the ground, it dries too quickly, vanishing like it was never there.
"...Nine hundred ninety-eight… nine hundred ninety-nine… one thousand."
My sword clatters from my hand.
Finally. It's over.
"Congratulations, Prince," a shadow's voice says, flat yet respectful. "You've endured your first day of physical training. Now change your clothes. Eat. In one hour, the Empress will arrive for the second part of training—your mind. Meditation and Absorption await."
My vision spins. My body feels like shattered stone.
But somewhere beneath the pain, a spark flickers.
This is only day one.
I quickly went back to my quarters, peeling off the drenched clothes that clung to my skin. The stench hit me like a blade. Sweat, dirt, blood. My nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Ugh… gross."
I caught my reflection in the polished bronze mirror. My body looked almost the same, but… not quite. Muscles hadn't formed overnight, of course, yet there was a faint tightness in my arms, my chest. Like my body was trying to wake up.
Not bad for just one day, I thought. If this is the result after one day… what about a year from now?
I stepped into the bath, sinking into the steaming water. My skin stung where it was torn, but relief seeped into my bones. I dipped under the surface, holding my breath. One minute. Two. Three. Four…
When I finally broke the surface, water cascading off my hair, I gasped.
"Five minutes…! I held it for five whole minutes!"
The training wasn't just breaking me. It was changing me. Already, my lungs felt stronger.
I dried off, dressed in fresh clothes, and hurried toward the dining hall. My stomach growled so loud it echoed in the corridors. I was starving,hungrier than I'd ever been in my life.
The moment food touched my tongue, I devoured it, shoving down bite after bite. But then—
"Ugh!"
I gagged, choking, before bile surged up my throat. I fell forward, clutching my stomach as everything I'd eaten came right back out. Along with it,thick streams of potion residue. As if it were the remnants of potion energy, the impurities inside my body. The floor was splattered with the bitter stench of vomit.
"Cough! Cough! Haaa—!"
My throat burned. My chest heaved.
"Young Master!" one of the shadows rushed forward, voice breaking through his cold discipline. "A-are you alright!?"
Other servents also gathered around panicking.
I could barely hear what they were saying.
Then suddenly my ears started ringing not from servent's voice but from something else. Something entirely new as if it wasn't my ears which were hearing things but my mind.
Then it came, clear sounds along with flashy screen.
[ Mental Fortitude: Unlocked ]
H-huh? M-mental..mental what...?
[ Commencing actions… ]
[ Memory implant: Failed ]
[ Organizing fragments… ]
[ Operation complete. ]
My breath hitched. H-huh? What was that?
"Huff… huff… what… are these… words?" I whispered, blinking rapidly. My vision blurred, but glowing script still burned before my eyes.
Then another line appeared.
[ I am Veyra , special skill of **d*******u***]
My heart skipped a beat. "What…?"
[ Criteria not met.]
[ Master too weak. ]
[ Current vessel : insufficient ]
[Commencing temporary shutdown. ]
"H-huh? Shu—"
Before I could finish, darkness swallowed me whole. I collapsed in my own vomit, shadows shouting my name as the world cut out. Just before I fell i saw another letters —
[ MORTAL LIMITS: REJECTED ]
[ PATH CLASSIFICATION: ??? ]