"Wow! This looks completely different from before," he said, surprised, as he took in the training ground.
The vast field I had glimpsed on the day of my awakening was now unrecognizable. Before, it had been nothing more than an empty open space. Now, it was a massive warehouse divided into five zones, each with its own specialized function.
Right in front of me, the first section featured dozens of small stands displaying a wide variety of weapons:
Bladed weapons: swords, sabers, scimitars, knives, daggers, and axes. Impact weapons: hammers, maces, clubs, and bludgeons. Pole weapons: spears, halberds, bardiches, and glaives. Throwing weapons: darts, javelins, throwing knives, shurikens, and chakrams, and, of course, the faithful bow and arrow, alongside various types of crossbows.
Among the conventional weapons, there were also exotic designs and creative reinterpretations: scimitars with extended tips, bladed whips, scythes of various sizes, and even a pair of sais identical to Raphael's from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
It was clear that this section was dedicated to close-combat training, sparring, and martial arts practice.
Lesley strode past it without a second glance, leading me to the second area. Even at a fast pace, it took us a few minutes to reach it.
I could have never imagined what lay before me. In essence, it was a gym—but not just any gym. This one was colossal, built for beings far stronger than any ordinary human. The weight plates alone were at least five times the size of the ones on Earth.
The machines, though different in construction, bore similarities to classic weightlifting equipment: Olympic bars, dumbbells, and weight plates.
This section was positioned on the far right of the training ground, near the wall. Not far away, two thick red stripes ran across the floor, forming a track that spanned the entire facility, clearly meant for running. It was wide enough for three people to run side by side.
"Alright, let's warm up," Lesley said.
Today, she was wearing a light black outfit: a fitted leather jacket zipped up to her neck, pants, and those shoes that looked like boots but weren't quite boots.
Without hesitation, she unzipped her jacket, revealing a sleek, form-fitting bodysuit underneath. It hugged her figure, highlighting the strength in her frame. Her toned abdomen, fully exposed, looked like it had been sculpted from stone.
I began stretching lightly, touching my toes, doing gentle squats, rolling my hips. But soon, I felt two intense brown eyes locked onto me. I straightened up, puzzled.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Stretching...?" I replied hesitantly, as most insecure people do.
Her eyebrow arched in disbelief, and her words, as always, were merciless.
"Are you stupid? I thought you were from a noble family."
I had no idea what I had done wrong, so I simply waited for her to explain.
"Sigh... Alright, fine. I'll just assume you need to learn everything about being an awakened from scratch."
I have to share a frustration with you: the old Glenn was obsessed with swords. He completely ignored basic education just to dedicate himself to training. As a result, even with his memories, I still have to learn everything from zero. That bastard never bothered to read a damn book, and his teachers never cared to teach him anything that didn't involve slicing things in half.
"When I say warm up, I mean accelerating the flow of prana through our energy pathways," Lesley explained slowly.
"Although, considering your... peculiarity, I have no idea how your flow will react," she admitted, clearly intrigued.
"Still, it doesn't matter. If you focus, you'll notice that the energy within your veins is practically stagnant."
I closed my eyes. Unlike when I had attempted to enter my inner world, sensing my energy pathways was surprisingly easy. It was like feeling my own hands or noticing an itch on my nose. I simply focused, and there they were—invisible channels filled with prana and mana, flowing at a slow, steady pace.
"Try to accelerate the flow," she instructed. "It's simple, you control this energy. If you tell it to speed up, it should speed up. If you tell it to slow down, it should slow down."
"Accelerate," I commanded in my mind.
"Accelerate, accelerate, accelerate, accelerate!" I repeated, shouting, ordering, demanding. But the energy remained stubbornly indifferent to my commands.
"It's not working," I admitted.
Lesley eyed me curiously.
"Nothing? Not even a slight shift?"
I shook my head. She placed a hand on her chin, thoughtful.
"The more refined and unique the energy, the harder it is to manipulate... But still, there should have been some reaction."
"Your case is special," she finally said. "Try to recall the feeling you had during your awakening, when the energy surged through your pathways."
Twenty minutes passed as I experimented with different methods.
I tried asking nicely. Nothing.
I tried commanding with authority. Nothing.
I even tried blackmailing it. Still nothing.
Then, an idea struck me.
I focused on my energy pathways. Prana and mana moved side by side, like two immiscible liquids trapped in the same tube. But what if they weren't balanced? What if one surged ahead of the other?
"Mana, accelerate. Prana, decelerate."
My body ignited. My muscles tensed. My blood rushed through my veins. My vision sharpened. My senses heightened.
Lesley smirked. "Whatever you just did, it worked. Now, keep that flow steady all day. Don't let it return to normal."
And just like that, I understood why stretching had been pointless.