Every breath felt like a struggle. My body was in shambles, my skin still throbbing where the spear had pierced me.
Dália's healing magic had closed the wound, but it hadn't restored the energy I had lost. My chest ached, my muscles protested with every movement, and weakness crept through my limbs like poison.
But Lesley didn't care. She threw two daggers at me and waited. Waited for me to pick them up, to assume the stance. Because the training wasn't over yet.
The clashing of our daggers echoed like thunder in my head. My arms felt heavy, my body staggered with every blocked strike.
She moved like a blur, each attack relentless, forcing me to react even as my muscles screamed for rest. I knew that if I stopped, she would take me down without hesitation. So I kept going, each strike a sacrifice, each block a battle against the exhaustion threatening to swallow me whole.
"You're still slow," Lesley growled, easily dodging my desperate attempt at a counterattack.
The force of my own movement threw me off balance, and in the blink of an eye, she was behind me. I felt a fierce impact on my back, and the ground rushed up to meet me. My body hit the floor with a dull thud, the air knocked out of my lungs.
"Get up," she ordered, mercilessly.
My legs trembled as I stood.
"Do you think the enemy will pity you?" Lesley attacked again, this time with a flurry of strikes that forced me back.
"Do you think they'll wait for you to recover?" She didn't wait for my answer, and I didn't have one to give.
I knew she was right. Out there in the world, there was no room for weakness. I needed to be stronger, faster, more resilient. Even if it meant dragging myself through the training, even if every movement was torture.
When Lesley finally signaled to stop, I fell to my knees, gasping for air, sweat dripping down my face, and my chest burning as if on fire.
"Big weapons," she said, walking over to one of the racks and grabbing a massive double-bladed axe.
I swallowed my exhaustion, fought to ignore the agonizing sensations in my body, and picked up a similar weapon.
'Let's do this right. Even if I pass out,' I tried to convince myself with those words.
The weight of the new weapon in my hands almost made me collapse. The long, sturdy handle of the axe felt like an anchor pulling me to the ground, and the two blades gleamed menacingly under the light. My body was already past its limit, my joints stiff, my muscles exhausted. But Lesley stood across from me, her weapon resting on her shoulder as if it weighed nothing.
Her gaze was a warning: _'Hesitate, and you'll be crushed.'_
A downward slash, fast and brutal. I raised my great axe just in time to block, but the impact made my arms vibrate as if they were made of glass about to shatter. My knees buckled, my feet slid across the rough ground, and I felt the real threat of the blade too close to my face.
With a growl, I pushed back with all the strength I had left, deflecting the force of the strike to the side and throwing myself backward before she could attack again.
I barely had time to breathe before I saw her spin the axe with terrifying fluidity. Another strike, this time horizontal. I acted on instinct, ducking at the last second, feeling the cutting wind of the blade graze my hair.
I rolled to the side and raised my weapon, trying to take advantage of the opening to attack. But Lesley was already expecting it. Before my strike could gain momentum, she sidestepped with a nimble movement, pivoting on her heels and launching a counterattack.
I didn't realize it at the time, but by the end of the day, something interesting would happen. My mind, which had always been out of sync with my body, was too overwhelmed by the pain, exhaustion, fatigue, and weakness.
So, unconsciously, my instincts took over my movements, making my fighting style much more natural. This was the gift of this body. The Glenn of this world had spent his entire life training in hand-to-hand combat, and I was reaping the benefits.
Moreover, my demonic variant, the Djinn, had innate peculiarities that favored me in this area.
Of the three demonic variants, the Djinns were the ones with extraordinarily developed senses, far beyond the common limits for succubi-incubi and tieflings.
This included enhanced vision, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. Some exceptional individuals could even develop what was called extrasensory perception, allowing them to sense subtle changes in the environment or even foresee danger.
And at that moment, my body was flooded with these sensations.
My skin sent alarms with every exchange of movements with Lesley, telling me that even a millimeter of error could put my life at risk. I believed one hundred percent in what my instincts were conveying. After all, just moments ago, I had been impaled by Lesley's spear.
The fight continued frenetically, and I had the faint impression that my true affinity lay in handling large weapons.
It was the only time I could actually perform effective counterattacks against Lesley.
These counterattacks were different. Not the feigned ones, where she thought she was fooling me by balancing our levels.
Gradually, however, something began to change. The pain in my chest was still there, but it became background noise, as if my body was adapting to the suffering. The great axe in my hands began to feel less like a burden and more like a tool. I wasn't mastering the weapon, far from it, but I was learning to survive with it.
Lesley finally stopped, holding the massive weapon with an ease I couldn't comprehend.
"You're getting better," she admitted, and I felt a small surge of pride, even though I knew I was still far from good enough.
"But it's still not enough." She walked away, leaving the great axe on the ground.
When the physical enhancement and hand-to-hand combat training finally ended, I was grateful to be alive.
The best part of my day was practicing internal energy control on the pillars inside the magic room. Even with my innate energy reserves at a critical level, I still managed to spend almost four hours on the pillar.
When I felt the signs of another energy collapse approaching, I ended my training. Lesley wasn't by my side anymore, and I didn't really need her company.
I had already conquered 45% of the first pillar. The goal was to make it shine completely, all three meters of it glowing with a yellowish light.
This meant my energy control over the constant changes occurring in my blood had reached a minimally satisfactory level.
I spent the next three hours in the meditation section of the physical training field. Absorbing all the details of the fight to the death and understanding everything I had done wrong during the day. It was a good way of self-aware growth.
I have to admit something to you: on my second day of training, I was mortally pierced three times. On all three occasions, Dália had to be called to heal me.
A man on Earth, admired by many, once spoke powerful words:
'The superior man is firm but not stubborn. He knows when to advance and when to retreat, for he understands that true strength lies in wisdom, not in obstinacy.' – Confucius.
By the end of my training, it was almost 9:00 PM. And my greatest fear was returning to my room.
Not because I was a chaste man who hated sex. Far from it, I loved feeling pleasure, I felt alive when I was inside Dália, pushing with all my vigor.
But if that happened that day, I wouldn't be alive the next. And, as the thinker said, I made the choice of a superior man. I decided to retreat and survive for the next day.
That day, I ate in the kitchen. I showered in the cafeteria bathroom. I returned and locked myself in the training section.
On my second day of training, I avoided having wild sex with Dália and slept inside the academy.
On the second day of training, I felt like the worst trash in this new world.
On the second day of training, I felt like the wisest man in this world.
"Live for tomorrow, to fuck pussies in the future," I tried to convince myself, before passing out next to the weights.