Mana and Muscle
Wanting to push myself harder, I strapped on a weight belt and clipped a 10kg plate to it. The added resistance made the pull-ups more challenging, but I was determined to see how far I could push myself. As the minutes ticked by, I found myself adding more weight to the belt. First 12.5kg, then 15kg, until I finally reached 22.5kg. Each additional kilogram felt like a win, and I couldn't help but grin with satisfaction at my improvement.
After an hour of weighted pull-ups, I was content with the day's progress. I had covered three major muscle groups—legs, shoulders, and back—each of which would serve me well in the military training that lay ahead. I considered moving on to chest exercises, but I quickly dismissed the idea. I figured it was more important to focus on the muscles I'd be using in combat, what if the military decided to throw us Awakened recruits into the gates tomorrow? I couldn't afford to be caught unprepared.
Instead, I turned my attention to my core. I needed to work on my core strength. I remembered how my core had felt shaky during target practice earlier. That recoil had been brutal. A strong core would be a game-changer, especially when handling the experimental weapons we'd been assigned. I headed over to the punching bag station, where a handful of other recruits were already hard at work. Some were throwing powerful shots, while others seemed more focused on technique and form.
To be honest, technique wasn't my primary concern. I was there to strengthen my core, and I'd heard that punching bag workouts were more functional than traditional exercises like sit-ups. I slipped on a pair of gloves and tried to mimic the recruits who were throwing power shots into the heavy bag. It didn't take long for me to realize something was amiss. My wrists were throbbing in pain, and I had to stop after just a minute.
I took a moment to focus, absorbing Mana into my wrists to ease the discomfort. As I stood there, I noticed that everyone else had their hands wrapped in what I could only assume were hand wraps. Feeling a bit foolish, I grabbed a pair of wraps and did my best to figure out how to wrap my hands, watching the person next to me.
Once my hands were properly wrapped, I took a deep breath and prepared to resume my training. I channeled Mana throughout my body, replenishing my energy reserves and bracing myself for the impact of my punches. This time, when I struck the bag, there was no pain—just the satisfying resistance of the heavy bag yielding to my strength.
I spent the next hour working on my power shots, each punch a reminder of the full-body engagement required for this type of workout. By the end of the session, I was feeling it—a deep, satisfying soreness that seemed to permeate every muscle in my body.
As I caught my breath, I noticed that many of the recruits around me were starting to wind down, shifting their focus from physical exertion to the absorption of Mana. It was a strange sight, almost like a scene from a science fiction movie, with everyone standing still, their eyes closed in deep concentration. I realized the four hours the drill sergeant had given us was up.
I followed suit, allowing the Mana specks that flooded my vision to gently guide my focus. For the next hour, I stood there, absorbing the energy and letting it flow through my body. It was a meditative experience, one that required a great deal of mental discipline and control. I observed that some recruits seemed to lose focus from time to time, their minds wandering as they struggled to maintain their connection to Mana. I, on the other hand, found myself slipping into a state of perfect concentration, the world around me fading away as I immersed myself in the flow of energy.
Finally, the drill sergeant's voice cut through the silence, signaling the end of our Mana absorption session. "Alright, maggots!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls of the training facility. "Time for your blood tests! We need to check if those pesky side effects are still hanging around. Remember, it varies from person to person, but if you keep absorbing Mana throughout the day, you should be just fine."
As I stood up, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. The day's training had been intense, but it was nothing compared to what lay ahead. With each passing hour, I could feel myself growing stronger, more capable, and more in tune with the mysterious energy that seemed to permeate every aspect of my life.
I made my way to the medical bay, where a team of military doctors was waiting to draw our blood. It was a necessary evil, I supposed, part of the price we had to pay for taking the drug that amplified our training. As the needle pierced my skin and the warm, metallic scent of blood filled the air, I closed my eyes, trying to block out the momentary sting.
I was still trying to wrap my head around the day's schedule. I had missed the briefing and had no clue what was in store for the rest of the day, leaving me feeling a bit out of the loop. I'd have to rely on the murmurs among the other recruits to get a sense of what was going on. It was then that I caught wind of the three hours of free time we had been granted, a rare moment of respite in the otherwise rigorous training regimen.
Socializing had never been my strong suit, and even now, as a recruit among my peers, I found little reason to engage in idle chatter. I was always more focused on the tangible benefits of any interaction, and if there was nothing to gain, I saw no point in wasting my time. However, as I considered the possibility of being paired up with other recruits for future assignments, I realized that building a network within the ranks might not be such a bad idea after all.
That reminded me that I'd heard soldiers from global superpowers like Tyrandis and Valoria had sent out a couple of Awakened squads a couple of days ago. I checked my phone to find more info and found out that the squads hadn't returned yet. This worried me. If soldiers from global superpowers, who are inevitably more equipped than Alstropian soldiers, don't return from the gates, what does this mean for someone like me, who'll be sent into the gates?
I found myself hoping for the safe return of these soldiers, despite my reservations about Valoria and what they had done to me. I couldn't deny that Valoria was at the forefront of humanity's fight against the threats posed by the gates. Their advancements were crucial in equipping us with the knowledge and resources needed to survive and adapt in this new world.
With the unexpected free time on my hands, I considered the option of catching up on sleep. I felt a bit tired, but I knew Mana could probably fix that. Every minute, every second was important. The more I trained and improved, the higher my chances of survival in the gates. I decided to make the most of this opportunity by heading to the dorm to grab my running shoes. Sprints seemed like the perfect choice to enhance my speed and endurance, vital attributes if I was to navigate the dangers that lay ahead.
I headed to the dorm to grab my running shoes and ask Eldric about the briefing. When I got there, though, Eldric wasn't in the room. I decided I'd ask him for his contact number later. I should probably do the same for Tristan and Marcus, just in case I needed to ask them something later.
When I arrived back at the building that housed Training Facility 1, I saw that it was bustling with recruits, their muscles straining under the weight of the barbells. It was clear that most of them were non-Awakened, focusing on their strength training. It seemed like a squad training was going on, so I decided to head over to Facility 2 instead, where the atmosphere was more subdued, allowing me the space and solitude I needed to focus on my sprints.
I knew that while weight training was beneficial for improving recoil control and overall strength, the ability to run was a critical survival skill, especially when facing the unknown threats within the gates. The thought of being trapped, escape my only option, sent a shiver down my spine. I needed to be confident in my ability to outrun danger.
For the next hour, I pushed myself on the track, my breaths coming in short, rapid bursts as I propelled myself forward. I varied the distances of my sprints, but I found myself particularly drawn to the 500-meter runs. This distance required a balance of endurance and explosive power, qualities that I believed would serve me well in the uncertain terrain of the gates. With each sprint, I felt my speed and endurance slowly growing.
An hour later, my legs felt a bit of a burn, but I quickly channeled Mana into them, healing the slight soreness. Feeling refreshed, I made my way over to the deadlift platform. I had another goal in mind, one that was just as crucial to my survival as speed and endurance.
I grabbed a barbell and began setting up for deadlifts. As I positioned myself, I thought back to the target practice earlier in the day. Despite my improved strength and agility, I had been acutely aware of my weight—or rather, the lack of it. No matter how many pull-ups or squats I did, it wouldn't change the fact that I was relatively light for my weight class. If I could gain a couple kilograms, it would massively help me in using my weapon. Maybe I could even change to a sniper rifle, but I knew it was probably futile. The military wouldn't allow you to change weapons mid-training, it would just be a waste of time. A little frustration gnawed at me, but I knew I had to focus on what I could control.
It hit me then, how important it was to be heavier and have more mass. No matter how athletic and strong I got, it didn't matter if my weight was low. Even when I widened my stance during shooting, it still felt like the gun was controlling me. I imagined myself in the field, weighed down by gear and bags, and the thought of being thrown off balance made me uneasy. Deadlifts wouldn't be so bad, though, as it'll also train my trapezius.
Starting with a warm-up set at 60 kilograms, the familiar grip of the barbell felt good in my hands. I moved through the motions, focusing on my form. With each repetition, I increased the weight, pushing my muscles to adapt to the growing demand. When I reached my working set, I managed to lift 140 kilograms with relative ease. It felt good.
For the next hour, I worked tirelessly to improve my deadlift performance. I inched the weight up, adding 2.5 kilograms to each set, until I was lifting 145 kilograms. It was a personal best, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. The 145 kilograms felt heavy, but I held it steady, feeling the satisfying burn in my muscles. It was a reminder of how far I'd come. I knew that if I had been under the influence of the drug we'd been given earlier, I might have been able to push my working set to 150 kilograms. But I also recognized the importance of patience and restraint. Injury was a surefire way to set my training back, and I couldn't afford any setbacks.
I couldn't help but reflect on the path that had led me here. Just a few weeks ago, I had been trapped in a corporate job, longing for something more meaningful in my life. The endless cycle of commuting, working, and returning home feeling drained had started to feel like a cage. I couldn't believe I'd been happy when I got promoted. The pay wasn't even as good as now. While the risks were higher, it felt like I got what I wanted all my life. Something that didn't make me feel like I was just another cog in the machine.