Chapter 6 - No Escape From Leg Day

My entire body screamed in protest when I rolled out of bed the next morning. Muscles I didn't even know I had were staging a full rebellion.

"This is it. This is how I die. Not from Graves. Not from world-hopping. Death by squats."

I limped into the kitchen, clutching the countertop like it was the last safe zone in a survival game. The coffee machine, my only source of comfort, greeted me with its usual grumpy hum.

"At least you understand me," I whispered to it, patting the machine like a beloved pet.

Elren strolled in, perfectly composed, perfectly infuriating.

"You're late."

"I'm dying."

"Not yet."

"You say that like it's a disappointment."

"Come."

"Why? Are you introducing me to new ways to suffer?"

"Leg day."

I stared at him, horrified. "Leg day?"

"You need stability."

"No one needs leg day this much."

"You do."

I'm being bullied. I've transcended the babysitting phase and entered the torment arc.

The training today was brutal. There were weighted squats, balance drills, and things that should probably be illegal under basic human rights.

"Push through."

"I hate you."

"Efficient."

"Stop saying that!"

Elren was relentless. He corrected my posture with the tip of his staff, his gaze sharp, his tone completely unimpressed.

"Focus your weight here."

"I'm focusing on staying alive!"

"Your survival rate improves with proper form."

"So does my urge to throw this staff at you."

Is this his revenge for yesterday? Is this how he gets back at me for talking too much?

Hours passed in a blur of pain, and by the end, I was sprawled flat on the ground, questioning all my life choices.

"Good."

"I swear, if you say that one more time, I'll scream."

"Still breathing."

"Barely."

Elren offered his hand again, pulling me to my feet like I weighed nothing.

"Tomorrow, we increase resistance."

"No. I'll riot. I'll organize a rebellion."

"You can't even stand."

"Details."

He almost—almost—smiled. "Coffee?"

"Yes, but you're buying."

"The coffee machine is free."

"Then you're brewing."

"Deal."

Tiny victories keep me alive.

Back at the apartment, I collapsed on the couch and wrapped myself in a blanket like a human burrito. My legs felt like overcooked noodles.

Elren placed a cup of coffee on the table in front of me.

"Your reward."

"Is this pity coffee?"

"It's survival coffee."

"You know, if you keep this up, I might actually start liking you."

"Tragic."

"Don't worry. You're still on thin ice."

I took a long sip, savoring the warmth.

"Hey, Elren, can I ask you something?"

"You will regardless."

"Touché. So, this whole anomaly thing—what happens to people like me?"

His gaze darkened, just for a second. "Usually, anomalies are contained or eliminated."

"Oh, good. Casual existential threat. Love that for me."

"You're under observation. As long as you don't become a risk, you remain."

"Define 'risk.' Because I feel like me existing already ticks a few boxes."

"We'll see."

"That's so comforting."

His expression didn't waver. "Stay alive."

"That's the plan."

"And stay quiet."

"That's not the plan."

He sighed, long-suffering, as if he regretted every choice that led him to this moment.

This is nice. I think I'm growing on him. Like mold.

"Same time tomorrow?" I asked.

"Earlier."

"You're evil."

"Efficient."

"One day, I'll find a way to ban that word."

He didn't answer, but when he walked past me, I could've sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

Victory. Again.