This was the first time that Freddy got to experience the food service in this building. As nothing but a brown stain remained on the plate where, minutes ago, a glorious steak had been, he felt incredibly salty that this event was hampered by the awkward atmosphere.
Mark had likely only agreed to be polite and had shown little enthusiasm at being there. Any attempt to start a conversation was about as effective as throwing an egg would be at shattering a concrete wall.
Eventually, the man decided that he had waited long enough that leaving wouldn't appear rude. "Thank you for the meal, Mr. Stern," Mark said, getting up from his seat. "I hope to see you around."
But not at work, Freddy added inwardly.
Before the mountain of muscle could leave, he asked him one final question. "Why... Why did you accept the job?"
"Hmm?" Mark turned around.
"It's just that, you know... judging by what you said, I assume you're quite well off," he said. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not prying or—"
"It's all right," he said. "It isn't some big secret. The gym owner owns a private training facility here. Unfortunately, he isn't selling access to it, but he does allow his employees entry."
"That sounds like a pretty good deal," he commented, nodding as if very impressed. "Honestly, if I were you, I'd do anything to keep the job."
"I told you already, my actions violate the—"
"But they don't," he said, interrupting the man. "You weren't on the job yet. Besides, it isn't like you're getting fired. You're voluntarily quitting."
Something flashed through the blond man's expression, and he responded with a slightly grimmer tone. "That is just a technicality. It's merely an excuse that doesn't change what I've done."
"But I've already forgiven you," he shot back. "And besides, it wasn't like it ever bothered me."
"It was a major mistake."
"But does that mean your only option is to quit?"
"With all due respect, Mr. Stern," Mark said, turning to face him and frowning, "why are you so insistent?"
That question made him wince, but before he could respond, the young man continued. "Don't worry, you won't be left without a trainer. I'm sure they'll find someone to replace me soon enough. Have a good night," the man offered as he again turned around and started walking away.
He hesitated for a long while as he watched the man walk away. Just as Mark was about to leave the kitchen and enter the living room, Freddy's mouth opened. "Is this because of my social status?"
Mark paused, "No, that's not the case, I..."
"Are you sure?" he asked, staring the man down for any signs of betraying the truth.
The man merely stayed quiet at that, his eyes shifting away slightly.
Freddy felt a pang of pain shoot through his chest. "I knew it," he whispered.
"No, I—" the man suddenly yelled. "I swear to God that has nothing to do with it!"
"Then why?"
Mark's eyes lowered to the ground as his jaw tightened. "I really don't care about that one bit. But I can't give you a satisfying answer since it's a private topic that, no offense, I have no interest in sharing with a stranger."
He stayed quiet for a long moment and then nodded. "Okay, I respect that. But," he said, staring the taller man in the eye. "Let me just ask you one more thing. If you're replaced, what are the odds that I will get someone who does care about my background?"
That made the man wince. "I don't know, but..."
"But they're not zero, are they?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "If you want to quit, I can't stop you, but I will be honest. I am..." The words felt like a clump of nails climbing up his throat. "I am scared shitless of this whole thing, and... for whatever it might be worth to you, I felt lucky to get you as my trainer."
"And why is that?"
"You didn't shout at me a single time," he said, blinking away hints of agony appearing at the corners of his eyes. "You didn't hit me. You didn't threaten me. You didn't demean me. Not a single time that we've interacted did you treat me like I was less human than you are."
The two men stared at each other for a few long moments. A flash of sympathy warred with the man's reluctance, and then, finally, Mark sighed. "All right," he returned and offered him a reluctant handshake. "I guess I can stick around a while longer."
An embarrassed smile flashed across Freddy's face. "And I'd be glad to have you."
"To be honest, I also felt lucky to get you as my client," the man said, smiling awkwardly.
"And why is that?"
"Because you aren't a spoiled brat, Mr. Stern."
He laughed slyly. "Please just call me Freddy, dude."
"All right. Call me Mark, too," he permitted, smiling. "But I will add that I still feel guilty about my actions today. Don't hesitate to ask if you need help with anything."
"I might just take you up on that offer."
Mark got ready to leave again, but then he paused. "Oh, by the way, do you wish to do another session tomorrow, or do you want to wait until the day after, when we officially start?"
He thought about that for a bit, but he didn't take long to decide. "I'd love to continue tomorrow."
"All right then! See you tomorrow at eight."
"Eight?" he asked. "Isn't that a bit late?"
"Hmm? Oh, I was trying to be considerate, but if you want, we can move it back to seven."
"Yeah, that's a bit better, I guess," he muttered, still slightly confused.
"Great! I'll see you in the morning!" Mark said, patting him on the shoulder, but he paused as he noticed the expression on Freddy's face. "Is something wrong?"
"Ah... No... Hahaha... Everything is A-okay," he said, too embarrassed to go back on what he said.
He had assumed that it was eight in the evening, but he gritted his teeth and accepted it.
The man was already doing him a major solid by sticking around. If he wanted to work out in the morning, then by whatever gods might be out there, Freddy would show up in the morning.
They shook hands and parted ways.
His sleep schedule had been atrocious for a while already, and coupled with all he had done today, he felt positively exhausted. It was 7 p.m., and he didn't want to mess up his sleep schedule further by going to sleep too early, so he waited for the next two hours, absent-mindedly flipping the pages of the water arts guide, really just admiring the incredible illustrations, until the clock hit 9 p.m. and he went to sleep.
***
One...
Two...
Three...
...
Fourteen...
Fifteen...
Sixteen...
...
Twenty-five...
Twenty-six—
At that point, his technique collapsed, leaving him feeling refreshed. Twenty-six seconds—precisely double the essence he had just a few days ago.
Rapid growth was expected for beginners... but this much?
He scoffed.
Truth be told, he had nothing to compare this against. Maybe he was even lagging behind where he should be. With the intent to pull his head out of his ass and stop getting so full of himself, he finally headed home.
Dinner, reading, hygiene, and finally, sleep. Everything else would come tomorrow.
***
So, this is when it kicks in...
Freddy woke up in pure agony, acutely aware of every muscle he had worked on in the past two days, and even some he thought he hadn't exercised at all, like his biceps.
Today, he would "formally" meet Mark, his trainer, and be provided his schedule. Matt would be here at noon, and it was 9 a.m., so he still had three hours until the arranged meeting.
First, he went into the toilet and drank a ton of water. As his essence had recovered, he began using his Water Body tempering technique without hesitation.
Some stage zero body tempering techniques had extremely minor effects. This was a standard feature. While the ether shells were empty, the ability lacked ties to supernatural concepts. Stage zero techniques were more or less just shortcuts for what could be done with pure essence manipulation. Well, theoretically, at least.
Only when an ether shell's true purpose was fulfilled did an ability evolve into something incredible. And that purpose was quite simple—trapping a personified ether construct within, either through beating them up until they were too weak to resist being sucked into the soul or merely convincing them to get in voluntarily.
Depending on what sorts of concepts an ether construct was connected to, the ability would evolve in different ways.
When he had first entered the Netherecho, there had been a vestige on his fridge—the one that nearly killed him. It looked like a glass orb containing shifting liquid within, and if he had to guess, that was likely a vestige connected to some sort of "liquid containment" concept.
Once his body tempering technique was ready to upgrade, Freddy could trap a vestige like that in the ether shell for the ability. The resulting effect would change his body tempering technique drastically.
The ability would likely evolve into one that tempered his body into being resistant to losing liquid, either through dehydration, bleeding, or maybe some other similar effect.
Naturally, not every vestige could be forced into every ether shell, and, interestingly enough, the vestige's actual affinity didn't matter that much.
For example, flow was something intrinsic to water, but not every water ability wanted or needed the water to flow. On the other hand, something like compression could be connected to myriad affinities, including water, so even if the vestige was of the air affinity, it could still slot into many water shells without a problem.
Preparing an ability for evolution was a long process requiring extensive practice, so body tempering techniques usually took a while to become useful. Luckily for him, he had one of the most favorable affinities for his current circumstances. Water comprised over 60 percent of a human's body and was essential for many functions.
And now, that water was circulating through his body, performing its function flawlessly.
His cells reestablished a balance between the extracellular and intracellular fluid. His blood circulated to every corner of his body, carrying water to organs and dehydrated muscles, and his cerebrospinal fluid supplied the necessary nutrients and oxygen to his nerve cells while washing away the waste.
He hadn't counted how long it lasted this time, merely focusing on the process within. Once he opened his eyes, he felt goddamn amazing. This feeling didn't last too long, but at that moment, his body, at least regarding water-related functions, was in an excellent state.
It wouldn't take long for that balance to go to shit again, but the more he used the technique, the more easily he would attain that state and the longer it would last.
Theoretically, eventually, his body would attain that balance permanently. But way before that happened, he would evolve the ability and add more to its function.
His muscles felt considerably less sore afterward, and he felt wide awake, as if he'd had a nice cup of coffee.
Speaking of coffee...
He went to the kitchen, ordering a long shot of espresso. Before it arrived, he showered and brushed his teeth.
The warm cup of delicious coffee was just the perfect thing to go with some reading, and before long, he finally flipped the last page of the water arts guide. Apparently, there was no information on body tempering techniques in this book, as there were so many that a different volume was required.
But it still left him with plenty to think about.
He could choose to be either a support or a martial artist. There was also the water caster option, but that was a rough path. If someone fully dedicated themselves to a pure path of water spells, there was a strong possibility that they would acquire an advanced affinity upon ascending a star. That advanced affinity, in this case, was the ice affinity.
Ice was naturally more suited for damage than water, so getting it was an excellent way to become a powerful mage—but it wasn't guaranteed. Not at the second star, at least. Even if he forged the perfect, optimal path, working for a decade on all the spells he could, the most he could reach was an 80 percent probability of getting the ice affinity.
Enough people got stuck at the second star, even with a decent path. Water-only two-star casters? Yeah, unless they had a talent or a second affinity to bail them out, they were probably screwed.
Water could do many cool things if one upgraded the abilities enough times and patched enough flaws—but why the hell would anyone waste their time doing that when they could simply do what water was best at?
However, there were many things to consider when making the decision.
According to the book, one must consider the "predisposition trifecta"—their affinities, natural talent, and prime talent.
His affinity and prime talent were ideally suited for martial arts, but that didn't mean that was the best choice for him. He still had to consider his natural talent. For one, his coordination was trash, and that was likely the number one requirement for learning martial arts—
Ringing interrupted his thoughts again, and he put the book down as he got up to open the door.
"Hello, Mr. Stern," said Matt, the assistant. "I hope you had your rest."
"I'm as fresh as could be," he chuckled nervously. "So, where are we heading first?" he asked, but he already knew that the gym was most likely their first location.
"Follow me," was all the man said as they left—but rather than head toward the gym, they walked into a different building altogether. He remained silent throughout the ordeal, and they walked to an elevator.
It took them to the seventh floor, and the doors opened to what appeared to be a clinic.