Winston strolled across the wide-open field, which had been outfitted with various military training stations scattered across the grounds. Boris made his way toward a substantial container—a twenty-liter jerry can made of thick green plastic.
The sheer size of the field left Winston stunned. From where he stood, it seemed almost as large as a football stadium. As Winston continued taking in the massive training ground, Boris patted him on the back, snapping him out of his amazement.
"Such a beautiful day today," Boris said with a proud grin. "Anyway, my young friend, let's get back to work."
He pointed toward two full twenty-liter jerry cans sitting on the grass. "We'll start with a run while carrying these. We need to take them all the way to the other side of the field. You ready?"
Winston glanced at the two heavy containers before nodding. "Yes, sir."
Boris grabbed one of the jerry cans and hoisted it onto his shoulder as though it weighed nothing. Winston followed suit, struggling to lift his own. This method of training focused on developing functional strength, making it different from traditional weightlifting in a gym. Carrying an uneven object with an awkward grip forced the body to stabilize itself while moving, strengthening the core, legs, hips, arms, and shoulders. Winston managed to make it only twenty steps before his arms began trembling.
"Ugh..."
His grip weakened. He stopped, lowered the jerry can to the ground, and took a deep breath. A short distance ahead, Boris continued jogging with his own jerry can resting comfortably on his shoulder. After noticing Winston had stopped, he slowed down, turned around, and waited.
"C'mon, kid!"
Winston gritted his teeth. I can't give up this quickly.
He grabbed the handle again and hoisted the jerry can onto his shoulder. His legs felt heavy, and his arms were already burning. He started jogging. By the time he reached Boris, the weight had become almost unbearable. Winston shifted the jerry can onto his opposite shoulder, but the moment he did, the other shoulder began throbbing with pain.
He gritted his teeth and kept moving. Left shoulder, Right shoulder, Left again. Both gradually became numb. Boris watched him closely before pointing toward the opposite end of the field. "Five laps," he said. "Straight line. No stopping unless I tell you to."
Winston stared at the enormous field ahead of him. Five laps... He tightened his grip around the jerry can. This is going to be brutal.
[Nether Essence: 65%]
[Voltage Core: 65%]
Winston felt as though his entire body were burning after the final lap. The military-style training had pushed him to an unprecedented level of exhaustion. He sat down for a moment to recover, but when he finally stood, he felt completely revitalized. He stared at his arms in astonishment. His energy had returned far faster than it should have.
It must be the Nethen Essence.
Every time its percentage increased, he noticed that his drained energy seemed to recover almost instantly. At least, that was the conclusion he had reached. And his assumption was correct. What Winston didn't know was that the Nethen Essence only restored his energy whenever its percentage increased. That was also why he constantly struggled to sleep. No matter how exhausted he became, his body kept recovering, allowing his workaholic nature to push him even further.
Winston rose and walked back toward the jerry cans. Boris watched him approach and gave him an impressed nod. Winston returned the gesture with a grin. Without wasting any time, they each picked up a jerry can and began another five-lap run across the field. The laps continued throughout the day. By the time Winston completed the final one, he was completely out of breath. He dropped the jerry can and bent forward, his hands resting on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.
Then, just like clockwork, his energy surged back to its peak. Winston slowly straightened. Again... He stared at his hands, a mixture of exhaustion and amazement crossing his face. Maybe voltage core.
[Nether Essence: 68%]
[Voltage Core: 68%]
Boris watched Winston carefully as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. A grin spread across his face before he gave Winston a thumbs-up. "You know, my young friend, when Dumi told me you liked intense training, I thought he was joking." Winston stretched his arms, rolled his neck, and loosened his legs before looking at Boris. "Want to do more training, my young friend?"
"Yes, please, Mr. Boris." Winston hesitated before asking, "If you don't mind me asking... do you train people here?"
Boris glanced at him with a small grin. "Believe it or not, I'm a contract trainer. My clients include people looking to lose weight, troubled youths, and even youth military squads." He paused before chuckling. "When Dumi called and asked me to train you, I was surprised. The last football player I trained with was him, back in the day."
Winston's eyes widened. He glanced toward Dumi, who was watching them from a distance. His heart skipped a beat. I'm doing the same training that made Dumi a legend... The realization filled him with excitement. Then he remembered Boris mentioning that this was private training, and a different thought crossed his mind. How much is Dumi paying for this?
Boris noticed the concern on Winston's face. "Don't worry about the money, kid. Since you're Dumi's apprentice, it's on the house. Besides, Dumi and I go way back." He burst into laughter. "Did you know he only managed three laps carrying those jerry cans before collapsing? He woke up the next day!"
Winston couldn't hold back his laughter. He looked toward Dumi, who was now furrowing his brow from across the field. For a few moments, Winston and Boris continued laughing while Dumi stared at them in confusion.
"What are you two laughing about?"
That only made them laugh harder. Eventually, Boris wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. "Alright, enough. Let's do one more exercise before we call it a day. It's getting late."
He looked Winston over. "You've already got a good build, so we should focus on developing more muscle. When was the last time you lifted weights?"
"About a month ago, back at the club gym."
Boris nodded. He crouched beside a heavy black suitcase and opened it. "You know, my young friend... for someone your age, you have the endurance of a soldier."
He glanced toward Dumi. Dumi gave him a subtle nod.
Boris nodded back. Winston noticed the exchange. They're hiding something.
A faint sense of unease settled in his stomach. Before he could ask, Boris reached into the suitcase and pulled out two heavy, black ankle weights. He fastened them around Winston's ankles.
Click! Click!
Winston immediately felt the weight drag against his legs. Boris grinned and patted him on the back. "Well, my young friend, you asked for intense training. Now you've got it."
Dumi walked over as the sun began to disappear beyond the horizon. "Since it's getting dark, let's call it a day. As Boris said, your intense training starts now. We've got three days before we head back to the city."
He yawned before adding, "I'll cook tonight. I'm thinking..." Dumi began listing a few dishes before glancing at Winston, who was struggling to move with the ankle weights. "Or you can wear those for the rest of our stay."
Winston's eyes widened. "They weigh twenty kilograms each."
Dumi smiled. "Exactly. Good luck walking in them. You don't want to go hungry or freeze outside, so you'd better start moving."
Winston took one step. Then another. His legs trembled beneath him.
Dammit. I didn't think this through. Seeing Maximilian and the striker coach had pushed him into wanting even more intense training, even though Dumi's regular sessions were already brutal.
But this military training is on another level. Winston eventually collapsed onto his back on the rough grass. As he stared at the night sky, a memory surfaced.
He remembered lying outside with his family when a meteor shower had been announced on television. The entire neighborhood had come alive. It had felt like a festival. His family had been together, laughing, joking, and enjoying the night beneath the stars. And that was when his parents had given him his new football boots. The memory brought a faint smile to his face. Winston forced himself upright. Then he started moving again.
He dragged his feet across the grass, each step feeling as though he were fighting against gravity itself. The weight was even worse than the swollen legs and bulging veins he'd experienced before.
He kept going, Step by painful step. Eventually, he reached the stairs leading toward the house. The wind had grown stronger, making the journey even more difficult. Winston dropped onto all fours and crawled forward, using his hands to keep himself balanced.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the house. Inside, Dumi and Boris were sitting quietly at the lounge table. Dumi was reading through some paperwork while Boris cleaned his equipment with a cloth.
Without even looking up, Dumi said, "Food's on the dining table." He paused, "And please, kid... don't drag your feet."
Winston nodded weakly, he continued dragging his feet toward the dining table anyway.
[Nether Essence: 69%]
[Voltage Core: 69%]