Chapter 325: A Special Kind of Training

"You're doing what?" Khalik raised both eyebrows.

"It’s very simple!” Alex’s excited voice rang with a touch of mania as he quickly slid steel plates onto a heavy bar. “I'm turning myself into a giant mana generator so I can tear my muscle fibres down and rebuild them stronger, faster and better than ever. In other words, I’ll be cracking my limits like eggs for breakfast!” His eyes gleamed.

The prince’s mouth opened and closed like a dying fish before he threw his head back and filled the vast space with booming laughter. Exercisers looked over, their faces in different stages of annoyance which prompted Khalik to muffle his laughter…but only slightly. “You do realise that this is quite insane, do you not?”

“Absolutely!”

Clang!

Alex slid the last plate on the bar and secured it. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, what seems insane today might be paradigm shifting in the future. I mean, think about it: imagine how insane the first person to make cheese must’ve seemed? Like some ancient barbarian saying to his friend—”

Alex deepened his voice. “—‘Oh yeah, not worry Urgtog! Gorgor’s plan be big smart! Me take milk from goat and cow and me leave milk in dark place to go so bad it solid. Then it real good to eat! Try some, Urgtog—Why is Urgtog trying to stab me with sharp rock?”

Khalik sighed, cupping his face in his hand. “Take care how you mock our collective ancestors, Alex. I’m sure they are rolling in their…graves? Funeral mounds? Cairns? In any case, wherever they are in the ground and after-world, they are rolling in some way.”

“Probably with laughter,” Alex shrugged. “Why would the ancient dead be offended?”

“Ask that of the untold enraged ghosts, spectres, phantoms, angry mummies, liches, and other undead who haunt our world seeking to satisfy their rage on the living.”

“Eh, they don’t count.” Alex waved a hand dismissively. “We’ve fought skeletons that tried to kill us. I don’t listen to the opinions of shit that tries to kill us. And besides that, our ancestors, Khalik? Really? Pretty bold of you to assume that we humans invented cheese.”

“Oho? And who do you suppose did, then?” the prince placed his hands on his hips. “Deities? I suppose some call the food ‘divine’, but I have my doubts as to an actual connection there.”

“Maybe dragons,” Alex said. “Or one of the beastfolk races—”

A snort came from somewhere near the prince and young, Thameish wizard. A broad-shouldered bear beastman shook his head as he passed them.

“Only humans would be dumb enough to ‘invent’ and eat spoiled milk,” he grunted.

Khalik and Alex stared after him for a moment.

Then the prince shrugged. “He has a fair point. And speaking of ‘dumb’...” He looked at the barbell Alex had set up. “Were we actually going to do this ‘special training’? Or are we just going to stand here, having the world’s most idiotic conversation about cheese until someone rightfully removes us from the gymnasium.”

“Yeah, good point.” Alex headed to a nearby bucket filled with loose chalk. First he, then Khalik dipped their hands in—rubbing the white powder over their fingers and palms. The chalk would absorb moisture, keep their grip on the barbell secure, and spare their palms from friction.

“So!” Alex clapped his hands, kicking up a small cloud of white dust. “Could I get you to spot me? I’d like to start by recording my max weight for the chest press, then move on to a few more exercises.”

“Fair enough!” Khalik agreed, stretching his chest and shoulders. “I shall do the same. It’s been some time since I tested my limit.”

Alex raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You might not want to do that.” He flexed a powerful bicep. “I’ve been building up lately. You’ll only end up disappointing yourself.”

Khalik gave him a wide, confident smile. “I have been training my body for most of my life, my friend. You have come to it only lately. You dip your toe in a pond, while I swim the sapphire sea. So tell me, why should the shark fear the minnow?”

“Yeah, we’ll see how long you keep talking like that.” Alex slid onto the bench, rubbing his hands together while eyeing the bar above him. “I’ve got my last maximum recorded. If I crush it, then I move up.”

“Perfect,” Khalik said, counting the plates. “Three hundred and fifty pounds. Most impressive. Let’s begin.”

Taking a breath, Alex lifted the heavy barbell off the rack, brought it down to his chest, slowly pressed it back up in one fluid motion, then replaced it while Khalik spotted him.

“Well done,” the prince nodded in approval.

“More weight,” Alex said.

His workout partner added a five pound plate on either side of the bar.

Slam.

Three hundred and sixty pounds. Alex took another deep breath, exhaled, and repeated the controlled movement.

Slam.

Three hundred and seventy pounds. He grunted from the increase, his arms shaking from exertion.

Slam.

Three hundred and seventy five pounds. This was where the Thameish wizard began to fail.

“Come on, you can do it!” Khalik roared, standing by Alex’s head. “Do not let yourself fold now!”

Alex gritted his teeth.

“Get that bar up!” The prince positioned his hands under the bar, ready to catch it if Alex’s strength failed. “You can do this! You have fought monsters and demons at my side, will you let a piece of metal overcome you?”

With a roar, Alex pushed the bar straight up—his arms shaking and his heart hammering in his chest—and racked it with a heavy clang. “That’s it…” he said. “Best I got.”

“Well done!” Khalik took his friend by the hand and pulled him up. “Rest for a bit… then it is my turn.”

Alex stretched his chest and arms for a few minutes then Khalik took his place on the bench. “Are you ready to be embarrassed?”

Alex grinned. “That’s my line.”

A few minutes later, he realised it shouldn’t have been his line.

Slam!

“Four hundred!” Khalik pumped his fists. “A new record! Hah!”

“You bastard.” Alex mumbled.

“Shark,” Khalik pointed at himself. “Minnow.” He pointed at Alex who swore again. “You wouldn’t be grinning and gloating like that if Thundar was here.”

The prince’s smile faded behind his beard, but his eyes still shone with amusement as he hopped off the bench. “But he is not, is he?”

While Khalik enjoyed himself, Alex looked past him.

It could be said that fate had been unkind to Alex Roth in many ways. He’d lost his parents. He’d been branded with a divine Mark that he’d never wanted. He’d had to deal with a terrible boss for years. It could also be said that fate had been kind to Alex Roth in other ways. He’d entered Generasi. He’d turned his unwanted Mark into something wonderful. He’d made fantastic friends.

…and today?

Today, fate was kind.

“Thundar!” he called as the minotaur stepped into the gymnasium with perfect timing. “It’s so good to see you, buddy!”

Khalik’s smile dropped. “Oh no.”

Slam!

Thundar placed the bar back on the rack then pumped his fists. “Seven hundred and ten pounds! New record!”

“I hate all things,” Khalik grumbled, then cleared his throat. “I mean, a fine job, Thundar!”

“Heh, thanks.” The towering minotaur sat up. “Hey, you guys did good too! Very strong for humans.”

“Don’t, Thundar, just don’t…you’re killing us.” Alex pleaded. “You sound like you’re consoling a kid for coming in second at the school track meet.”

“Pffft, you need to be more secure in yourselves!” Thundar clapped both of them on their shoulders. “It doesn’t matter that I’m basically as strong as both of you combined. I mean, we’re wizards. What’s the use of muscle anywa—”

“I must go to my room,” Khalik interrupted mournfully. “And write to my family. I must warn them that I’ve been mortally wounded, and that my killer is Thundar, son of Gulbiff. Of course, they’ll avenge my cruel death at your hands using the Crimson Mantis, King of Assassins and the greatest contract killer in all the realms south of the Udan desert…”

Alex began laughing, remembering the name as Thundar looked at Khalik sceptically. “On a more serious note, this is a good day,” Khalik continued. “We have gotten much stronger than we were not so long ago. Hmmm…and speaking of growing strength: with her life enforcement, how strong is Theresa these days do you think?”

Alex looked at him very seriously. “I would pay a lot of money not to find out. Watching you and Thundar beat me nearly killed me. If Theresa did too? Well…it’d be really hot, in a way, and I’d be super proud, but it’d also destroy me.”

“Hah! I get that.” Khalik chuckled. “And what about Grimloch? I wonder how much he lifts these days.”

Silence followed.

“Why don’t we all pitch in not to find out,” Thundar suggested. “That’d destroy all of us.”

“Fair,” Alex and Khalik said at the same time before quickly moving on.

The three young men went from station to station in the gymnasium, testing their strength in the deadlift, shoulder press, squat, and more. On one hand, Alex felt a lot of pride in what he could do, on the other, a bit of envy:

375 lbs. - bench press.

690 lbs. - deadlift.

650 lbs. - squat.

305 lbs. - shoulder press.

1500 - pushups.

The pride was at how much physical progress he’d made.

In about a year and a half, he’d gone from being a skinny eighteen year old collapsing on the floor of the Red Siren after a few pushups, to a young man who’d be considered one of the strongest men in all of Alric. And it was all due to the Mark's fantastic, hyper-efficient training, diet, and resting tips.

The envy came from Khalik and Thundar’s max weight being higher than his.

His competitive spirit surfaced; he wouldn’t let himself remain in third place for long.

“Okay,” he said when they’d finished testing their limits. “Let me get started. …since…this’ll be the first time I’m trying this process on my entire body, if I suddenly turn green and fall over twitching, just take me to the infirmary.”

“We’ll throw you in a ditch,” Thundar laughed.

“Thanks.” Alex glared at him. “Alright…here goes…”

Taking a deep breath, he cast Warp Flesh, guiding his way through the Mark’s interference. An unfamiliar feeling came over him when the magic circuit connected to his lifeforce; his body tingled as the spell started warping his physical form.

Carefully, he reached into his muscles, using the Mark and past trial and error to guide him to the fibres. Now came the tricky part. Warp Flesh was a clumsy spell as Professor Hak had warned, but the Mark had shown him several tricks to refine it enough for one simple task.

Making entrance and exit pathways in his muscle fibres.

He established paths for mana currents through each of his muscle groups until he touched every muscle.

Then, closing his eyes, he let his mana connect to them.

A grunt escaped as every muscle locked, sending a burst of agony ripping through him, but he focused and targeted, easing off the mana, calming the hyper-stimulation.

The pain faded, dimming until all that remained was a slight burn throughout his body.

Khalik gasped. “Alex…your skin!”

“Yeah…it does that,” the Thameish wizard looked down and took a shuddering breath. Just like his little toe, his skin had turned a deep red as blood rushed to every muscle at once. Sweat dripped from his pores, trying to cool him.

With another groan, he ran Hsekiu’s technique through his mana pool, then cast Mana to Life. Soothing energy instantly flowed from his pool and spread like rivulets.

The pain faded further, but a new tension filled his muscles. It felt like they were vibrating with each tiny contraction. Alex stretched.

“Alright,” he chugged a potion of endurance and felt the power settle in, increasing his stamina. “Let’s train.”

Khalik rubbed his hands, “I thought we’d never start.”

The three friends jumped into a brutal training routine. There were heavy weights. Obstacle courses. There was climbing. Running. Jumping.

All the while, current ran through Alex’s muscles, hyper-stimulating every fibre. Each of his fitness records was shattered—including his max lifts—with every repetition torching muscle mass. As the routine progressed, the pain progressed—even through a constant drip of Mana to Life—and his strength waned.

The micro-tears were multiplying quickly, and after some ninety minutes maintaining their brutal pace, he had to call it a day. Agony was boiling through his body, and his muscles felt like someone had enthusiastically taken a forge hammer to them. Every movement made them scream, ensuring an awareness of muscles he never knew he had. The last straw came when he bent over to pick up his bag and seized up like a rusted hinge; Alex had to instruct Claygon to pick him up and carry him home.

Whenever Claygon took a step Alex groaned, whenever Alex groaned, Thundar and Khalik laughed, eventually doubling over with tears running down their faces. “This is the best part of the workout!” Thundar remarked between fits of laughter. To Alex, it felt like it took several lifetimes before they reached the insula.

He didn’t stop groaning even after his golem had deposited him in bed where he remained, feeding himself with a pair of Wizard’s Hands while keeping a low-level mana current running through his muscles. Mana to Life fed his lifeforce, and over the course of a couple of hours, he felt the burn subsiding into a low tingle. An odd…energy built as aches and exhaustion decreased enough for him to use the Mark to slip into a meditative state. The world passed him by as his body rebuilt.

Alex was at peace.

He felt serene.

He felt…insistent stabbing pains clawing at his belly. Famished. Really famished. Hunger like he’d never felt before. His stomach burned and growled, refusing to be ignored. Alex grabbed his gut. ‘The way you’re growling, you’d think I hadn’t fed you in days!’ He was starting to feel sick. “I guess I underestimated how much fuel I’d need.” Near Alex’s door, Brutus contentedly gnawed on a soupbone, and for a mad, desperate moment, he considered calling the cerberus over and snatching the bone, but quickly dismissed the idea. ‘You’re starving, not crazy,’ he thought, then weakly called out to Selina and Theresa, begging them to get him a load of meat, fish, vegetables, rice and potatoes from a nearby restaurant: piles of the right fuel for his changing body.

They were gone and back in no time, though it felt like forever to the famished Fool and when Alex had reached the point where Brutus’ bone seemed to be shouting his name, the apartment door opened and the heavenly scent he’d been longing for drifted into his room.

“Help…me…” he called weakly.

A few minutes later, Selina appeared at his door like one of the saviours of Thameland with a heaping tray of food.

“Here’s your food, Alex.” She brought it in, setting it on the bedside table.

“Thanks Se-,” before he could finish thanking her, Wizard’s Hands dove into the spread, grabbing handfuls and shoving food in his mouth.

Selina raised an eyebrow as she watched. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes…” he mumbled between mouthfuls. “But I’ll survive—Wait, what are you doing?”

With an evil grin, Selina stalked toward him, her finger extended like an assassin’s knife. “I’m gonna poke you.”

“No! No, no, no!”

“Yes, yes, yes.” She slowly thrust her finger toward his bicep.

“No, my darling sister! My wonderful little sister, don’t do this, have mercy—Aaaaaaaaaaargh!” his scream ripped through the insula, scaring birds from a nearby tree.

Two days later Khalik gasped as Alex strained on the weight bench, pressing a barbell above his chest.

The Thameish wizard’s trembling arms were more defined than yesterday. A little larger…and much denser.

Slam!

Alex racked the bar.

“Three hundred and ninety five!” he roared in triumph. “It works! It bloody works!”