Human sausage

As Elira stepped closer, I felt the weight of her presence. Her towering frame seemed to block out everything else in the training yard.

There was no mistaking the gleam of amusement in her sharp, golden eyes as she loomed over me, her gaze sweeping over my body in a way that made me instantly self-conscious.

Without warning, she reached out and pressed her hand firmly against my belly. The unexpected touch made me flinch, but before I could protest, she raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a half-smirk.

"You're quite fat," she said bluntly, her voice void of any softness. 

I blinked, caught completely off guard. Fat? I wanted to protest, but her tone wasn't mocking it was a simple, clinical observation, like she was stating a fact that I somehow hadn't noticed myself.

I felt my face flush with embarrassment and anger, but before I could say anything, she tossed something at me a bundle of fabric, black and heavy. It landed in my arms, and I fumbled with it, realizing it was some sort of leather outfit.

"Put that on," Elira ordered, her voice sharp. "We're wasting time."

I hesitated for a moment, staring at the leather combination suit she had given me. It was sleek, dark, and looked like something a soldier would wear into battle.

I wasn't sure how I felt about it, but I wasn't exactly in a position to refuse. Grumbling under my breath, I turned toward the changing room nearby.

The leather felt stiff and foreign as I slipped into it. I tugged the zipper up the front, the material squeezing tightly around my midsection and thighs.

By the time I'd finished, I could barely move without feeling the fabric pull against my skin. It was snug too snug. My reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable; I looked like a human sausage, stuffed into a casing that was far too small.

With a sigh, I stepped back out into the training yard, trying to keep my head held high despite how ridiculous I felt. As soon as Elira saw me, her laughter echoed across the space, loud and unapologetic. 

"You look like a sausage!" she barked, doubling over slightly as if she found the sight too much to bear.

Her laughter was infectious, and for a second, I thought I might laugh too, if only to release the tension. But I couldn't my pride was stinging too much.

"Thanks," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest, though it didn't help much. The leather still clung to every curve.

Elira straightened, wiping a tear from her eye, her laughter fading into a grin that sent shivers down my spine. "You'll get used to it, Ren. Or not." Her grin widened as she looked me over again. "We'll see."

I wanted to ask when we were starting the magic lessons when I'd finally learn to control the fire that seemed to live inside me. But before I could even form the question, Elira clapped her hands sharply.

"Alright, first lesson!" she barked, her voice taking on a more commanding tone. "Get moving. I want ten laps around the training yard."

I stared at her, sure I hadn't heard her correctly. "Wait, what? Laps? Around the training yard?" I glanced around, realizing how massive the yard was. It was at least the size of a football field. I wasn't even sure I could make it around once, let alone ten times.

"This isn't magic training!" I protested, feeling my frustration rise. "I thought we were going to learn magic!"

Elira's eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer, her height and sheer physicality making her all the more intimidating. "I'm a knight and a mage," she said, her voice dangerously low.

"And if you think you can handle magic without building up your body, you're an even bigger fool than you look. Magic is physical, Ren. It requires strength, stamina, and discipline. And right now, you have none of those things."

I opened my mouth to argue, but her stern gaze shut me up before I could speak. 

"Run," she said simply, pointing to the edge of the yard. "Now."

Grumbling under my breath, I turned and started jogging. My body protested immediately. My legs felt heavy, and the leather suit made it hard to breathe, let alone move freely.

By the time I'd made it halfway around the yard, I was already out of breath. Sweat clung to my skin, and my muscles burned with every step.

How had it come to this? Just a few months ago, I'd been running laps as part of my university's basketball team. Sure, I wasn't the best player, but I had been fit. I'd been able to handle physical exertion without collapsing like this.

But now, every step felt like a monumental effort, and by the time I finished the first lap, I was wheezing.

Elira was waiting for me at the starting point, her arms crossed over her chest, an unimpressed look on her face. "That's one," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Nine more to go."

I glared at her, but the fire in my lungs stopped me from saying anything. Instead, I kept going, dragging my feet as I started the second lap. 

Each step felt like it was pulling me deeper into the ground. My legs were leaden, my breath ragged. I had to force myself to put one foot in front of the other.

Sweat dripped down my back, soaking the leather suit, which was only making things worse. Every movement felt sluggish, like I was wading through water.

By the time I finished the fourth lap, I was ready to collapse. My lungs were burning, and my legs felt like they were going to give out at any moment. I stopped, leaning over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

"I can't do this," I gasped, looking up at Elira. "This… this isn't magic training. This is torture."

Elira raised an eyebrow, her golden eyes glinting with amusement. "Torture? You think this is torture?" She took a step closer, her shadow falling over me. "You don't know the meaning of the word."

I glared up at her, but she didn't seem to care. Instead, she pointed to the yard again. "You've got six more laps to go. Unless you want to be here all day?"

I groaned but forced myself to keep moving. Lap after lap, my body screamed in protest, but I pushed through it. I had to. By the time I finished the tenth lap, I was drenched in sweat and barely able to stand. 

Elira, of course, didn't seem the least bit sympathetic. "Good," she said, nodding slightly as if she hadn't just put me through the most grueling workout of my life. "Now that you've got your blood flowing, let's work on your stances."

I wanted to scream, to shout at her that this wasn't what I'd signed up for, but I bit my tongue. Instead, I tried to focus as she demonstrated a few basic combat stances, her movements fluid and powerful.

She moved with the grace of a dancer but the strength of a warrior, each stance precise and deliberate.

When it was my turn to mimic her, I felt clumsy, uncoordinated. My legs wobbled beneath me, and my arms felt like they were made of lead. I stumbled through the stances, trying to keep up with her corrections, but it was clear I had a long way to go.

Finally, after what felt like hours of drills, Elira stepped back and looked me over, her gaze critical.

"You've got six months," she said, her voice cold and commanding. "Six months to lose all this weight and build up your strength. Otherwise, you'll never be able to control your magic."

I swallowed hard, feeling a pit of dread settle in my stomach. Six months? I wasn't even sure I'd survive another day of this.