Chapter 6: Body Strengthening

Michael woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, despite the grueling exercises of the previous day. His muscles ached, but it was a satisfying ache—the kind that told him he was rebuilding his strength. As he sat up, he noticed a fresh set of clothes folded neatly on the bedside table.

He pulled off his shirt and stretched, feeling the tension in his muscles. He was still far from his peak, but progress was progress. With a determined nod, he moved to the center of the room and began his morning regimen—the ten foundational sets of body strengthening exercises he had drilled relentlessly during his time in the imperial army. These exercises were designed not just to build muscle but to fortify the body in preparation for absorbing mana from the environment.

By the fifth set, his limbs trembled with fatigue, and he collapsed onto the floor, panting. "Too weak... this body is much too weak," he muttered between ragged breaths. His pride stung, but there was no use dwelling on it. He had faced worse odds before.

After a brief rest, he pushed himself up and started again, gritting his teeth. This time, he managed to complete the fifth set before his body gave out once more. Progress, however small, was still progress.

"Hello?" he called out.

"Yes?" The ever-present voice responded immediately.

"May I know where I can wash up? A well? A river?"

A section of the wall near the corner of the room suddenly slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a hidden chamber. Michael, still clad only in his undergarments, cautiously stepped toward it.

Inside, the room was unlike anything he had ever seen. The walls gleamed with a strange, smooth material, neither stone nor wood, but something entirely foreign. Along one side, a translucent barrier housed what looked like a basin, yet it had no bucket, no ropes, no sign of manual labor. Strange symbols and buttons adorned the walls, their purposes a mystery.

Michael narrowed his eyes. "This... is a bathing chamber? But where is the water?"

"This is a fully automated hygiene facility," the voice explained. "To begin cleansing, remove your clothing and step inside the designated area."

Michael hesitated, then shrugged. He had bathed in rivers, in rain, in blood. This should be no different. He stripped down and stepped into the enclosed section.

"Now what?" he asked, arms crossed.

"Commencing cleansing procedure. Please remain still."

A sudden blast of warm mist erupted from the walls, enveloping him. Michael yelped and instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn't there.

"What in the abyss?!" he sputtered, flailing slightly as the vapor seeped into his skin, bringing with it a strange, tingling sensation.

"Relax. This is a steam-based purification process, designed to open your pores and remove surface contaminants."

Michael frowned but forced himself to stay put. The mist subsided, and a soft drizzle of water rained down from above. It was warm, comforting, like the rare hot springs he had once visited with—he shook the memory from his mind.

"This... is actually quite pleasant," he admitted, running a hand through his damp hair.

"Next step: deep cleansing."

Suddenly, multiple nozzles extended from the walls and began spraying him with streams of water. Some targeted his arms and legs, others his back, and one blasted him straight in the face. He sputtered and nearly slipped.

"Agh—Warn me next time!" he coughed, shaking water from his eyes.

"Initiating lathering sequence. Please close your eyes."

"Wait, what does—"

A burst of cool, foamy liquid hit him from all directions, coating his body in a strangely fragrant substance. He groaned as the suds tickled his skin.

"You could have at least given me time to brace for—AH!"

Scrubbing mechanisms—gentle but firm—activated, massaging the cleansing foam into his skin. Michael twisted in surprise, his warrior instincts flaring up at the unexpected contact.

"Hold still for optimal cleaning efficiency."

"I am TRYING!" Michael grumbled, gripping the walls for support. "This is—guh—undignified!"

The scrubbing relented, and another rain of warm water cascaded over him, rinsing away the lather.

"Final step: drying sequence."

Before Michael could protest, a sudden gust of warm air blasted him from all sides, ruffling his hair and making him feel like he was caught in a minor tornado. He braced himself until, finally, everything stopped.

"Cleansing complete. Have a nice day."

Michael stood there for a moment, dripping slightly but otherwise refreshed. He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his now-fluffy hair.

"That was... effective. But next time, give me a damn warning."

The voice did not reply.

Grumbling, he stepped out of the chamber, feeling lighter and cleaner than he had in years. He dressed in the provided clothes and flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders. Perhaps this world wasn't all bad.

But he still had a long way to go.

Michael eyed the headgear sitting atop the table then said, "Later, let me break my fast first." He then proceeded to the cafeteria and ate another hearty meal.