By the time we stumbled out, well I stumbled out and Master briskly walked, I knew two things for certain.

  The stairmaster was the most evil creation people had ever devised.

  And exactly what it felt like to be beaten raw.

  Every single muscle, in every single piece of my body, was sore. It was like the time I’d broken through my wall but, barely, less awful. Except now, that I had to walk, it was getting unbearable. Master hadn’t been satisfied by simply pushing my muscles, he’d made me go till I felt like they were tearing apart. Despite what he’d said earlier today, we were definitely not going ‘easy’ and ‘just getting a baseline for your strength’. Or, at least if we were, I might actually die if the training got any harder.

  “Stop whining.”

  “I didn’t even say anything!”

  “I can see the look on your face. You look so dissatisfied. All we did was an hour on each different workout.”

  An hour of hell each time… The stairmaster had been the last one and my legs felt like jelly. Work out, get some water, do some stretches, repeat. Running, bench press, dumbbells, leg press machine, the weird thigh crunch thing, a stationary bike, a rowing machine, a few others I couldn’t remember, and finally the horrific stairmaster.

  “You should count yourself so lucky. Back in my day… well… we still had workout machines but they were so weak. Past [10] and they practically shattered. We had to punch and carry harder and harder rocks and metals. It was a nightmare just trying to find ways to workout. I’d have killed for what you have today.”

  “Sorry Master…”

  Despite feeling like beef jerky and pounded meat, the results had been shocking. It was hard to tell on certain machines, like the treadmill. But seeing an unbelievable amount of weight being lifted above me was incredible. I’d have even mistakenly started to believe I was strong if I didn’t see a doll a tenth my size lifting a metal that was weighed in tons. And it was by far, not the strongest person there. No, that had been master. But besides him, there’d been a ton of other gym goers and even a few trainers that were monstrously strong. I saw one lift ten tons and another move so fast on the treadmill that they were a literal blur.

  These machines were incredible, my strength was incredible, all of the people there were incredible. It wasn’t that long ago that power level [5] felt like a distant dream, a goal unlike any other. Hell, I could remember being shocked and excited over a .01 increase and feeling like I was a god afterwards. How ridiculous.

  Master, as he so often annoyingly was, had been right. My journey had only just begun.

  “So Master.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Same thing tomorrow?”

  “Of course not. That was only to see where you’re at. Full body workouts are great, the pinnacle of ways to improve, but it’s actually best to focus on your weak areas and only keep up with the others right now. Your strength, for example, is fine if a little lacking.”

  I felt like those words were insane but alright.

  “Your speed is fine… but your endurance is crap. A level [10] shouldn’t be getting tired like that. We also need to do tests to start improving your durability but a few weeks of muscle destruction and repair should be fine in the short term. I was worried that using the healing tank would slow down your natural regeneration, I’ve seen it happen before, but you seem to be taking to it like a fish to water. If anything, your body heals faster than normal for your power level.”

  “Does healing speed also go up with power level?”

  I’d never heard of that.

  “Ehhh, kinda? The things that actually damage you will cause a similar level of harm as if you were the relevant power level but overall, yes. The time gets shorter and the injuries get easier to survive themselves. But even at the peak, a broken arm will still take at least a few weeks to naturally heal.”

  “Wait, master, you didn’t say what specifically we were going to be doing different tomorrow.”

  He turned to me and a shiver ran up my spine. Slowly, a horrifically cruel smile not unlike those in my deepest nightmares surfaced.

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  “Cardio.”

  *****

  I hate you master. I hate you so much. I hate the way that you walk, I hate the way that you talk, I hate every single tiniest piece of you. You’re… almost worse than Vega. Almost. You can die. Every single piece of your soul can be cast down to the most fiery pits of hell. They can burn and burn and b-

  “Faster.”

  “Go… fuck… yourself.”

  “Your heart rate needs to be higher. Don’t you dare have it drop below 180.”

  “How…”

  I couldn’t, couldn’t even speak anymore. My body was drenched in sweat, my clothes were practically stuck to me, and my heart felt like it was going to explode. And Master just stood there, saying absolute pieces of crap, like a fortune cookie from hell. Faster? How the hell could I go faster? I just wanted to die. Death would be easier. Oh god, I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. Why, why did the gods make such torture devices?! Why?!

  I realized how much I missed tedium, how much I missed the punching bags. They were so nice, so gentle, so caring. Oh, how I miss you. You were so good to me. Not like this demon machine that threatens to kill me. No, no, death would be a mercy. My legs hurt but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of my heart pumping so hard, so fast, like it was going to explode into a million pieces. The way the blood practically shot through my whole body, the way I was drenched in my own fluid and still felt so utterly god damn hot. The heat of my blood coursing, radiating through me, and all back through my heart and back through my body and, oh god.

  I felt like I was going to collapse.

  My breath was ragged, destroyed, pieced together dying pants than anything resembling a respiratory system. Tears threatened to leave my eyes but there wasn’t enough liquid in my body. My legs threatened to give out from under me and every moment they didn’t was a personal affront to me. Why body, how could you betray me like this?

  I didn’t even notice the treadmill slowing or stopping, only when I was leaning on it like a dying beached whale did I realize my pain was theoretically over. Theoretically because even stopped, it did nothing to make my body better. My sides hurt, like they were tearing apart. My breath tried to come easier but it failed. My head felt so fucking hot, like I’d walked out of a sauna. And my heart and legs were practically trying to kill themselves, and me, through the effort of pain.

  Master came close by, and with all my strength, I gave him the middle finger.

  “Keep up that spirit, you’re going to need it. Go towel off, drink a lot of water, and use the bathroom. You’re not going to feel like you need to, but you do and you will. After that, take a shower, do some stretches, and come right back out here. If you’re not back within thirty minutes, I’ll assume you passed out and drag you back out here myself.”

  Master… was truly a demon.

  Thirty minutes later, forcefully dragged out of the shower by master and barely given a pair of underwear to wear, he forced me onto the bench for an hour.

  Just as my body was starting to feel better and my embarrassment over wearing so little was starting to subside just a bit…

  Master forced me on the stairmaster for the rest of the day.

  “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

  Those words were said early, knowing that soon I’d fully embrace hell and be unable to.

  If the treadmill was an evil torture device and Master a demon, then the Stairmaster was a Monstrous Devil only on par with Vega himself.

  It broke me, my legs feeling the absolute bloody torture. I was pretty sure I was bleeding from… everywhere. I wasn’t, but it sure felt that way. Tripping wasn’t allowed. The moment I tried, the stairmaster itself somehow bent in a way I didn’t know was possible to keep me upright. Curse you, you bastard of a machine. Technology was evil. I had been right all along.

  It hit me even farther than the treadmill did, somehow hurting my back. How? How did it even do that?

  I was so tired. So, so so so tired. The world was an empty blur as sounds became muffled and lights grew too bright. I felt like I was going to pass out, yet I never did. I missed those days too. When I was so weak that my body could barely handle an exercise of just punching without passing out. Oh, where had the days gone?

  Finally, we stopped. It took every ounce of my willpower just to stay standing.

  Master was nearby with-

  “No.”

  He raised an eyebrow, needles in his hand.

  “I know you aren’t scared of needles. We need to keep up your nutrition and-”

  I held up a hand and simply recovered for… I don’t know. At least fifteen minutes, before I could finally talk again.

  Then I raised my head and stared into this old bastard’s head.

  “There is no way… I’m ever giving up good food again. Yesterday was an exception. If you’re going to work me like a dog, you can at least feed me breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  I held my gaze. My eyes like hard tired rocks into his uncaring, yet slightly annoyed, face.

  “Ugh. Fine. But you’re still taking injections, food is too unspecific. Your body will never grow to be its best without precise nutrition.”

  “Whatever. When’s lunch?”

  Master pulled up his sleeve and I saw something new. For the first time, I saw and realized that Master wore a Vambrace of his own. It just looked… alien. It was metal, it was square, but something about it just looked… wrong. Or at least, different. Had he always had that? Where? When? How had I missed that all this time?

  “Hmm. Might as well be right now. How about sandwiches?”

  “That sounds great.”

  “Afterwards, it’s right back to training. Try not to throw up.”

  I grimaced. This devil!

  Cardio was going to be the death of me.

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