Chapter 78: Real Training.
The training yard no longer looked the same as before.
The marks on the stone ground had multiplied, fine cracks spreading like a web around the spot where Victor trained every day. It wasn’t the result of a single impact, but repetition—force applied to the same point thousands of times, under conditions that simply shouldn’t exist.
One month.
Just one month.
And yet—
Victor was upside down, balanced on a single hand, his body perfectly aligned as he performed another push-up under a pressure that would crush anyone who wasn’t absurdly resilient.
Thirty times normal gravity.
His body no longer trembled like before.
There were no uncontrolled spasms.
There was effort, of course. Muscles tightened, his breathing was heavier than normal... but it was controlled. Stable. Functional.
He went down.
His face inches from the ground.
And pushed back up.
Without failure.
"...two thousand one hundred and forty-three..." he murmured, his voice low, yet steady enough to keep count.
His free hand rested against his own abdomen, as if it were no longer needed for balance. His bodily control had already moved past the adaptation phase.
Now it was mastery.
On the other side of the yard, Carmilla watched in silence, seated with one leg crossed over the other, her gaze fixed on him with an expression that no longer hid her discomfort.
Scarlet stood beside her, arms crossed, equally focused.
Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.
They just watched.
Analyzing.
Processing.
Until Carmilla broke the silence.
"...This doesn’t make sense," she said flatly.
Scarlet didn’t answer right away.
"No," she agreed after a moment. "It doesn’t."
Victor went down again.
Up.
Without hesitation.
Carmilla tilted her head slightly.
"One month," she continued. "At most, he should just be starting to adapt to ten times."
Scarlet gave a small nod.
"Serafall planned six months to reach thirty-six," she said. "He’s at thirty."
A pause.
"In one month."
A brief silence.
Victor kept going.
"...two thousand one hundred and forty-four..."
Carmilla exhaled softly through her nose.
"I’ve seen prodigies," she said. "I’ve seen absurd adaptation. I’ve seen people break their limits."
She paused.
"This isn’t that."
Scarlet watched his movement again, more carefully this time.
"No," she said. "This is something else."
Victor subtly rotated his wrist at the top of the motion, adjusting his balance with a natural ease that shouldn’t exist under that load. His body responded instantly, without delay, as if it had already internalized the pressure as normal.
Down.
Up.
Carmilla rested her elbow on her knee, leaning forward slightly.
"He didn’t just adapt," she said. "He moved past adaptation."
Scarlet nodded silently.
"Twelve hours to endure it," Carmilla continued. "Twelve to overcome it. The next day, he was already training."
She glanced away for a moment.
"And now this."
Victor took a deep breath at the top.
"...two thousand one hundred and forty-five..."
Scarlet slowly uncrossed her arms.
"This isn’t just physical," she said. "His body is responding as if... it already knows what to do."
Carmilla frowned slightly.
"Instinct?"
Scarlet shook her head.
"No," she said. "Instinct still makes mistakes."
Her gaze returned to Victor.
"This doesn’t."
Silence.
The sound of his movement remained steady, almost mechanical—but not robotic. It was... too natural.
Carmilla let out a low, humorless laugh.
"Then we have a problem."
Scarlet didn’t look away.
"Depends," she replied. "For whom?"
Victor went down once more.
Up.
And this time, he held at the top for a second longer.
He breathed.
Then turned his face slightly in their direction.
"...Are you going to keep talking like I’m not here?" he asked, without losing position.
Carmilla didn’t hesitate.
"Yes."
Scarlet added:
"You’re busy."
Victor went quiet for a second.
Then let out a small hum.
"...Fair."
And went down again.
As if thirty times gravity—
Was no longer enough.
...
The training yard no longer looked the same.
The marks on the ground, once scattered cracks, now formed an almost circular pattern around the spot where Victor usually trained, as if the space itself had been slowly shaped by the absurd repetition of force applied there every day. The reinforced stone still held—but it no longer came out unscathed.
And at the center of it all—
Victor.
Upside down.
One hand on the ground.
Body perfectly aligned, despite the brutal pressure crushing him from all sides.
Thirty times gravity.
It was no longer an experiment.
It was the standard.
He lowered himself slowly, his face nearing the ground with absolute control, without visible trembling. Then he rose at the same pace, as if it... were normal.
It wasn’t.
It never should be.
Standing at a distance, watching without interfering, Carmilla and Scarlet kept their eyes fixed on him.
For a few seconds, neither spoke.
Until—
"...This has gone beyond just talent," Scarlet said, breaking the silence.
Carmilla didn’t answer immediately. Her arms were crossed, eyes narrowed, analyzing every detail of his movement.
"It passed that point a while ago," she replied at last. "This is something else."
Victor went down again.
Up.
Controlled breathing.
No strain.
No visible effort.
Scarlet tilted her head slightly.
"Thirty times," she murmured. "In one month."
Carmilla exhaled softly.
"She planned six months to reach thirty-six," she said. "He’s practically there."
"And he hasn’t slowed down," Scarlet added.
A brief silence.
Victor continued.
Constant.
"Do you think he realizes how absurd this is?" Scarlet asked.
Carmilla shrugged.
"I don’t think it matters," she replied. "He just keeps going."
—
Days later.
—
Victor ran.
This was no ordinary run.
Each step pressed into the ground, leaving deeper marks than it should. The constant weight bore down on every muscle, every bone, every point of balance in his body.
But he wasn’t stumbling.
He wasn’t unstable.
He was... adapted.
The movement was heavy, yes.
But precise.
Scarlet watched from a distance, seated on one of the stone structures, following his path across the yard.
"His posture improved," she commented.
Carmilla, beside her, nodded.
"Center of gravity adjusted," she said. "He’s not fighting the weight anymore. He’s using it."
Victor made a sharper turn, his body leaning at exactly the right angle to compensate for the absurd pressure.
"This isn’t normal learning," Scarlet said.
"No," Carmilla replied. "This is absorption."
—
Another day.
—
Impact.
Victor struck the training dummy.
The sound was dry.
Heavier than it should be.
The dummy—built to withstand attacks from trained vampires—slid a few centimeters backward.
He didn’t stop.
Another strike.
Another.
A continuous sequence.
No pauses.
No hesitation.
His body no longer locked between movements.
It flowed.
Scarlet stood closer this time, observing the details.
"He doesn’t lose energy between intervals," she said.
Carmilla crossed her arms.
"He eliminated the intervals."
Victor spun his body, delivering a lateral strike that made the dummy tremble.
"That’s dangerous," Scarlet commented.
Carmilla looked at her.
"For whom?"
Scarlet didn’t answer.
—
A few more days.
—
Victor stood still.
Breathing.
But it wasn’t rest.
It was control.
Eyes closed.
Body motionless.
Gravity still active.
Thirty times.
But for the first time—
He wasn’t training strength.
He was... feeling it.
Scarlet frowned slightly as she watched.
"What is he doing now?"
Carmilla answered without taking her eyes off him.
"Adjusting."
"How so?"
"He can already endure it," Carmilla said. "Now he’s refining."
Victor slowly opened his eyes.
And moved.
One step.
No excessive impact.
No sinking into the ground.
Controlled.
Scarlet narrowed her gaze.
"...Is he reducing the effect?"
"No," Carmilla said.
A pause.
"He’s distributing it."
—
Another session.
—
Victor was back on the ground.
Push-ups.
But now—
Two hands.
Faster.
Sharper.
More aggressive.
Each rise was explosive, yet still precise.
Scarlet watched.
"He went back to basics?"
Carmilla shook her head.
"No. He’s testing speed under pressure."
Victor accelerated.
The repetitions grew faster.
The impacts more frequent.
But his form didn’t break.
"That shouldn’t be possible at this level of gravity," Scarlet said.
Carmilla gave a faint smile.
"And yet..."
—
At the end of another day—
Victor dropped to the ground.
Not from failure.
But because he was done.
Heavy breathing.
Sweat-covered body.
But unlike the first day—
He didn’t look destroyed.
He looked... spent.
Controlled exhaustion.
Scarlet approached this time, tossing him a bottle of water.
"Drink."
He caught it without looking.
Drank.
Half of it.
Without stopping.
"How many?" Carmilla asked.
Victor thought for a second.
"...Lost count."
Scarlet sighed.
"You always do."
"Because I keep going," he replied.
Carmilla let out a small amused breath.
"Fair."
—
More training.
—
Running.
Impact.
Control.
Balance.
Repetition.
Day after day.
No real breaks.
No collapse.
His body changed.
Not in an exaggerated way.
But functionally.
Every muscle seemed to work exactly as it should.
No waste.
No excess.
Scarlet watched less with curiosity now—
And more with real attention.
"If he keeps this up..." she began.
Carmilla finished:
"He won’t just stand out during Ascension."
A brief silence.
"...He’ll dominate," Scarlet said.
Carmilla didn’t deny it.
—
At the end of the month—
—
Victor returned to the center of the yard.
Upside down.
One hand.
Just like at the beginning.
But it wasn’t the same.
He went down.
Up.
No trembling.
No hesitation.
No visible effort.
Thirty times gravity.
And still—
Absolute control.
Carmilla watched in silence.
Scarlet beside her.
"...This doesn’t make sense," Scarlet said.
Carmilla answered without looking away.
"It does."
Scarlet glanced at her.
"How?"
Carmilla took a second.
"...If you stop comparing it to what’s normal."
Silence.
Victor kept going.
Constant.
Unstoppable.
And, for the first time—
It no longer looked like training.
It looked like preparation.
For something far greater.