Chapter 60: Baptism by Fire
Remnants of the previous day's drills weighing on his limbs. Despite this, he stood tall, waiting for Varun's instructions.
Varun, arms crossed, watched him with an unreadable expression. The man was built like a monument—immovable, composed, and entirely indifferent to suffering.
"Today," Varun finally said, his voice as sharp as a blade, "we begin real conditioning. Until now, you've only played at training. That ends now."
Orion swallowed, already dreading what that meant.
Varun gestured to the long track. "Run. Don't stop. Run until I tell you otherwise."
Orion hesitated for only a second before breaking into a steady jog. At first, the movement was familiar, almost manageable. His breathing settled into a rhythm, his strides measured. But after the tenth lap, the burn in his legs became undeniable. His breaths grew ragged, his chest tightening with every step.
Still, Varun said nothing.
By the fifteenth lap, Orion's form had deteriorated. His legs wobbled with each impact, his shoulders slumped. Sweat dripped down his back, soaking into his training tunic. He glanced at Varun, hoping for a signal to stop.
None came.
The world narrowed to nothing but the sensation of his feet slamming against the stone, the sound of his own labored breathing. He wanted to stop. Every fiber of his body screamed for rest.
Then Varun's voice cut through the haze.