(10/02/24 - 13:30) (Wednesday February 10, 1524)
The dark water near the edge of Grove 10 erupted in a geyser of white foam. Koro stepped onto the slick, resin-coated surface of the Yarukiman Mangrove root. The Fish-Man dragged the carcass of a giant, blue-scaled sea serpent behind him.
Uma stood a safe distance away from the crashing waves. He had stripped off his new canvas shirt and tied it securely around his waist to combat the stifling, humid air of the archipelago. Looking down at his bare torso, he noticed a strange phenomenon. The thick, dark patch of hyper-pigmented skin from the gunshot wound remained prominent, but the older, jagged whip marks across his back and the numerous childhood nicks on his arms were actively fading. The edges of the old, raised scar tissue smoothed out, blending seamlessly into his natural dark skin. His accelerated metabolism was treating every old injury as an error, systematically correcting the flaws to optimize his physical structure.
Koro dropped the serpent onto the wood. He pulled a serrated bone knife from his belt and cleaved a large section of meat near the tail. He tossed the severed chunk, roughly thirty pounds of dense raw muscle, toward Uma.
Uma caught the meat against his chest. The sudden weight forced his knees to buckle. He staggered backward, fighting to maintain his balance. The heavy sea-beast blood soaked into his trousers. He clamped his arms tightly around the slippery mass, hoisting it up to rest against his collarbone. He possessed the baseline anatomy of an untrained civilian. The thirty-pound piece of meat felt like a solid boulder crushing his lungs.
Koro effortlessly hoisted the remaining body of the giant serpent over his shoulder and began walking back toward the lawless groves.
Uma followed. His arms began to shake within the first hundred yards. His biceps burned with a sharp, tearing sensation. He focused entirely on placing one foot in front of the other. He locked his jaw, staring at the broad, striped back of Koro. They walked through the winding dirt paths of the lower groves. Several armed thugs and pirates eyed the fresh meat with open hunger. Koro shot them a single, predatory glare, baring his shark teeth. The scavengers retreated into the shadows of the taverns.
Uma ignored the onlookers completely. His entire world narrowed down to the agonizing fire in his shoulders and the slick surface of the meat slipping against his sweaty skin. He forced his breathing into a steady rhythm, keeping his grip locked on his burden.
(10/02/24 - 20:00)
The heavy iron door of Doctor Vance's clinic stood slightly ajar, letting the cool evening breeze filter into the cramped room. Uma stood on the small wooden porch area outside the entrance. The massive meal of roasted sea serpent sat heavily in his stomach, providing a dense reservoir of calories.
He dropped to the wooden floorboards of the porch. He placed his hands shoulder-width apart and extended his legs backward, planting his toes. He lowered his chest until it nearly brushed the wood, then pushed himself back up.
One.
He lowered himself again. The movement felt sluggish. His nervous system struggled to recruit the dormant muscle fibers in his chest and triceps.
He reached ten repetitions. His arms began to vibrate. He reached fifteen. A deep fire ignited across his shoulders. He pushed for sixteen, his face twisting in a grimace. Halfway up, his triceps failed completely. He collapsed flat onto his stomach, gasping for air.
He rolled onto his back, staring up at the dark canopy of the mangrove leaves. He forced himself to rest for exactly two minutes.
He rolled over and set his hands in a diamond shape directly under his chest. He pushed up. The shift in hand placement isolated his triceps, sending a fresh wave of agony through his arms. He hit absolute failure at eight repetitions, collapsing face-first onto the wood.
He rested for two minutes. He moved his hands out wide, isolating his pectoral muscles. He pushed until his arms gave out at twelve repetitions.
He stood up, sweat pouring down his face and stinging his eyes. He walked over to the reinforced iron frame of the clinic door. He reached up, gripping the top lip of the metal frame with both hands. He pulled his body weight upward. His grip strength was abysmal. His fingers screamed in protest against the hard iron. He managed to clear the frame with his chin twice before his grip slipped, dropping him heavily back onto his feet.
He rested. He jumped up and grabbed the frame again. He pulled until failure.
He transitioned to his core. He lay flat on the porch, hooking his feet under the heavy bottom rung of a wooden barrel. He performed sit-ups until his abdominal muscles cramped violently. He flipped over and held a plank position, staring at a splinter in the wood while his entire body shook.
He moved to his legs. He performed deep, slow squats, dropping his hips below his knees and exploding upward. He lunged across the length of the porch, the burn in his quadriceps growing so intense his vision blurred at the edges.
As the workout progressed, Uma noticed a distinct anomaly. After reaching absolute muscular failure, his recovery window was unnaturally short. A few minutes of deep breathing allowed his muscles to fire again with surprising force. His body adapted to the stress in real-time. He possessed a terrifying talent for physical growth. The massive intake of high-quality sea beast protein fueled the rapid cellular reconstruction.
(11/02/24 - 00:15) (Thursday February 11, 1524)
Uma lay flat on his back in the center of the wooden porch. He stared blankly at a single, iridescent resin bubble floating slowly past the roof of the clinic.
He had trained continuously for over four hours. He had cycled through every bodyweight movement until his muscles simply refused to contract.
He tried to lift his right hand to wipe the sweat from his eyes. His arm remained completely motionless on the wood. He possessed absolutely zero energy left in his body. The simple act of breathing required conscious effort.
Heavy footsteps approached from inside the clinic. Koro stepped out onto the porch, looking down at the paralyzed human.
"You pushed past the breaking point," Koro rumbled.
"I have to," Uma rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "The world waits for no one."
Koro grunted in agreement. The giant Fish-Man reached down, hooked a massive hand under Uma's armpit, and hauled him effortlessly to his feet. Uma's legs offered no support. He hung limply in Koro's grip.
Koro carried him inside the clinic and deposited him onto the narrow cot.
Uma closed his eyes the moment his head hit the thin pillow. The dull, pulsing ache in every fiber of his body felt like a badge of honor. He let the exhaustion drag him down into a deep, dreamless sleep.