Hard traning

Several days had passed since I started training with Elira, and my body was in constant revolt. Every muscle screamed in pain, and each night I collapsed into bed, too exhausted to even eat.

The weight of my body felt like a prison, a cage that wouldn't let me move the way I used to.

Elira didn't care. In fact, I was convinced she relished every groan, every stumble, every time I gasped for breath and my legs buckled beneath me. 

The early morning sun was already beating down on the training yard when I arrived for today's session, my legs trembling just at the sight of Elira.

She was waiting for me, arms crossed, her golden eyes glinting like a hawk watching its prey. Her short red hair gleamed in the sunlight, and her muscular frame seemed to dwarf everything around her.

"Ready to suffer?" she asked, her lips curling into a smile that sent shivers down my spine. She didn't need to wait for my answer. She already knew it didn't matter if I was ready or not.

"Just...just take it easy on me today," I panted, still feeling the ache from yesterday's session. Every joint and muscle was in agony, my body protesting even the simplest of movements. But Elira didn't seem to hear me.

"Run five laps. And this time, try not to crawl like a snail," she barked, pointing toward the edge of the yard. "After that, we're working on your stance again. Maybe by the end of this week, you'll look less like a waddling duck."

I shot her a look, but I knew better than to argue. The last time I'd tried talking back, she'd doubled the laps. Begrudgingly, I began to jog, each step sending a wave of soreness through my legs.

I wasn't used to this, not anymore. My past self would've laughed at how slow I was now, how winded I became after only a few meters.

Back then, I had been fit, quick on my feet, light and agile from all those basketball practices and long runs. Now, I could barely manage a lap without feeling like my lungs were on fire.

"Come on, Ren!" Elira's voice echoed across the yard. "Is that all you've got? You're moving like you've got boulders strapped to your ankles!"

I gritted my teeth and kept going, trying to shut her out, but the frustration was building inside me. My body wasn't responding the way I wanted it to. I felt so… trapped. I used to be fast, strong. I used to be someone who could handle physical challenges. But now? I was nothing like that. 

"You're pathetic," Elira called, not even bothering to mask the disdain in her voice. "If this is all you've got, then maybe you should go back to bed. Let the real fighters handle this."

I could feel my face flush with both exhaustion and anger. My pride stung, but there was a bitter truth in her words. I wasn't who I used to be, and that realization hurt more than the aching muscles or the searing pain in my lungs.

Each lap felt like a test of my will, and I could barely keep up. My legs were wobbling, my breath ragged, but I forced myself to keep moving. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me quit. 

By the time I finished the fifth lap, I was wheezing, my chest heaving with the effort to draw breath. My legs felt like jelly, and every inch of me was soaked in sweat. Elira stood in front of me, arms crossed, looking down at me with that same sadistic smirk she wore every time I struggled.

"That was pathetic," she said, shaking her head. "I've seen toddlers with more stamina."

"I'm… trying…" I managed to gasp between breaths. My vision was swimming, but I forced myself to stand straight, refusing to show any more weakness than I already had.

"Trying? You think trying is good enough?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with mockery. "Magic won't care how much you're 'trying,' Ren. It'll burn you out if you don't build up the strength to control it."

"I know that," I snapped back, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "But maybe you could actually teach me some magic instead of just running me into the ground."

For a moment, I thought I'd pushed her too far. Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step toward me, her presence looming larger than ever. But instead of anger, a dark smile played on her lips.

"Oh, you think you're ready for magic? You think you've earned that right?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "You can't even handle running laps without wheezing like an old dog. Magic takes control, discipline, and strength. You've got none of that."

I opened my mouth to argue, but she cut me off.

"Combat stances. Now." Her voice left no room for argument. "We're going to run through them until your legs give out. Maybe then you'll understand what it takes."

I groaned inwardly but fell into position. My muscles protested immediately, still trembling from the laps, but I forced myself to mimic Elira's movements as best as I could. Her stance was always perfect, her form sharp and fluid, every step precise and deliberate. Mine? Not so much.

She circled me like a predator, barking out corrections with every misstep.

"Too slow! Your feet are dragging."

"Shift your weight are you trying to trip over your own feet?"

"Keep your back straight. You look like a hunchback!"

Every comment was another blow to my already fragile confidence. My body felt sluggish, heavy, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't match her speed or grace. I stumbled through the stances, barely able to keep my balance.

My legs shook, and my arms ached as I struggled to maintain the positions she demanded.

"Do it again," Elira snapped as I fumbled through yet another attempt. "You're not moving fast enough."

"I'm trying!" I snapped back, unable to hold back the frustration any longer. My entire body was drenched in sweat, my muscles were screaming, and I could barely stand. "This is impossible!"

Elira raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. "Impossible? This is just the warm-up."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. This was just the warm-up? I felt like I was dying, and this was only the beginning?

"You've got six months to get in shape," she said, her voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "You're lucky I'm giving you that much time. Most knights would break after just one month of this. I wonder how long you'll last."

I glared at her, my hands clenching into fists. "I'm not a knight. I'm here to learn magic."

"And I'm here to make sure you don't die while using it," Elira shot back, her tone icy. "You want to wield magic? You want to control fire and bend it to your will? Then you need to get stronger, or it will consume you. Magic requires discipline, both of the mind and body. Right now, you have neither."

I wanted to argue, to tell her that I'd been strong once, that I wasn't always like this. But the truth was, my body wasn't what it used to be. I wasn't that fit, agile person anymore. Every time I tried to push myself, I felt the weight of what I had become. And Elira wasn't letting me forget that.

The training continued for what felt like hours. My arms shook as I struggled through each stance, my legs burning with fatigue. I lost count of how many times I stumbled or fell, only to have Elira bark at me to get back up.

She took a cruel pleasure in watching me struggle, her cold eyes never missing a beat. Every correction was sharp, every comment designed to remind me how far I had to go.

By the end of the session, my vision was starting to blur. My legs barely held me up, and my breath came in ragged gasps. Elira stood over me, arms crossed, watching with a smirk as I struggled to stay on my feet.

"You've got a long way to go, Ren," she said, her voice almost mocking. "But maybe, just maybe, you'll survive this."

I wanted to say something back, but the words never came. My vision swam, and before I knew it, everything went black.