If you hit me again, you’re the only one who’ll end up in pain. I smirked internally, but I let that one slide.
Instead, I lifted my chin and asked, “Mind if I give it a shot?”
The instructor’s eyebrows arched. “Did you not see how that went for Arthur just now?”
“I saw it. Every second. But I’ve got a damn good reason to clear this thing.”
“A good reason, huh? Let me guess, you want the bonus points too?”
I shook my head. “Nah. I just want to eat. A full meal, not half rations. That’s my reward.”
The instructor blinked. “Food?”
The instructor tilted his head, a vague look of confusion on his face.
I jabbed a thumb toward Koharu and said with a grin, “This guy’s definitely gonna screw something up during training sooner or later. So how about this: if I clear it, we scrap the half rations punishment for good?”
“Hmm. I don’t really get what you’re on about, but suit yourself. No one’s ever managed this on day one anyway.”
Clapping my hands twice, I stepped toward the rope without looking back.
There are plenty of theories about what causes muscle fatigue. The most well-known one blames lactic acid, a byproduct of intense exercise that supposedly builds up and messes with muscle function. But more recent research suggests something different. Some say it’s not the lactic acid but shifts in calcium and potassium ion concentrations within the body. When those ions are thrown off balance by extreme exertion, the neural circuits begin to falter. The signals can’t get through. Muscles stop contracting properly.
Whatever the explanation…
Push a muscle close to its limit for long enough, and it turns stupid. It stops listening. That’s something every human being can feel, instinctively, just like growing up, aging, and eventually dying. It’s not a maybe. It’s law. Immutable.
Just moments ago, Arthur had tried the same thirty-meter stretch and hit his wall at fifteen. By seventeen, he’d lost his grip and plummeted.
Without stat boosts or physical enhancement, I’m a regular guy too. I’m not foolish enough to believe I’ve got this in the bag.
But if I don’t do this now, Koharu’s going to end up in an even worse spot.
Besides, I’m curious about how far my strength has come.
Sure, I’ve focused everything on efficiency, optimizing for results over raw power. Pure physical strength? That’s one area I haven’t exactly prioritized.
Still, it wasn’t as if I’d completely ignored strength training. Sure, I prioritized efficiency above all else, but I’d thrown in the occasional set of push-ups or crunches when I had the time. Nothing serious, just enough to keep the basics from rusting. It was never the focus, but I hadn’t entirely skipped the fundamentals either.
Arthur, on the other hand, claimed he’d pushed himself to the absolute limit. That was how he described it. He’d given it everything he had and still crashed at seventeen meters.
I believe in the road I’ve walked. Since the Dragon Zombie in the Dragon’s Domain, I’ve bled from the mouth, shed bloody tears, and even pissed blood. I’ve survived things that don’t belong in this world. In that sense, I suppose I’ve already stepped outside the bounds of normal human experience. I’m not saying Arthur didn’t try. I’m sure he trained seriously. But there’s a difference between us. Two, actually.
First, I had the tutorial. And second, I had access to mountains of training knowledge, the kind of practical wisdom that turns effort into results. That alone makes comparing us feel unfair. And yet… I still want to know.
Arthur said he’d trained everything, including raw muscle power. And I, in contrast, had only ever treated strength training like a side quest. So why did it feel like our definitions of “training” were worlds apart? Just how wide was the gap between his best and my casual?
I slapped both cheeks with open palms. I need to focus.
I reached out and gripped the rope, testing its texture. Rough. Dry. Utterly lacking in grace, but somehow, that raw simplicity felt reassuring. With a sharp breath, I leapt.
My hands clutched the rope as my legs locked it in. The climb began. My lats bore most of the load, my back muscles burning with each pull. My legs offered what support they could, but this was an upper-body fight from the start. There was no room for pacing or steady breathing. This wasn’t an endurance event; it was a single, explosive push. One shot to break through.
I forgot to breathe. My world narrowed to the next grip. The next pull.
Then I heard it, murmurs rising from the ground below.
I looked down.
A red line wrapped around the rope beneath me, marking the twenty-meter point.
But in that same instant, a creeping discomfort spread through my biceps and back. Not pain exactly, just a tightening, a heavy stiffness crawling under the skin.
This… isn’t good.
In this kind of high-load training, the warning signs wouldn’t come in stages. The moment you felt fatigue was the moment your arms stopped working. There was no grace period. No second wind. That was why the only way to succeed was to finish the climb before your body began screaming.
So, I pushed harder. Faster.
My muscles burned, tendons pulling taut, as I clawed upward. Before my body could protest, I forced it to keep moving, to accelerate.
Another wave of astonished murmurs rose from the ground below as I surged higher.
Twenty-five meters. Just five more to reach the top and clear the mission.
And then, everything stopped.
My arms locked up.
Shit.
They wouldn’t move. The strength had just… vanished. Worse still, sharp tremors began rippling through my biceps and across my back. My lats twitched uncontrollably, like power lines shorting out beneath the skin.
That was when I heard faint but clear voices from far below.
“Koharu?” Lilith’s voice drifted upward, unusually low and analytical.
“What is it?” Koharu responded cautiously, eyes likely locked on my still form.
“His muscles are fully saturated with fatigue. They’ve lost the ability to function at their proper output,” Lilith murmured, her tone cool, clinical. “That’s the state Ryuto is in now.”
“So, that means he’s going to fall?” Koharu asked, a thread of worry slipping into her voice. “Like Arthur did?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Lilith’s reply came sharply, pride swelling in her voice. “My partner, Ryuto Maclaine, he still has something beyond all that.”
“Partner?” Koharu echoed, eyebrows probably raised. “Okay, sure, but what exactly do you mean by that?”
“Even if his status is sealed, even if he’s forbidden from using magic or physical enhancement…” Lilith’s voice lowered, tinged with something almost reverent. “Ryuto still has that.”
“‘That’ being what exactly?”
I didn’t let her finish.
A roar tore from my throat, primal and raw, erupting from somewhere deeper than lungs or belly. It came from the core, the last furnace of a body on the verge of collapse.
“AAARGGHHH!!!”