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Chapter 6: Endurance
Lethe woke to a bright, noisy morning. The birds were chirping happily. He wasn’t happy about it—he hated mornings. Still, he knew today was important. Yesterday, he was officially knighted, and now his training had to begin. He sighed and dragged himself out of bed, already feeling the weight of his new responsibilities.
Aren’s voice boomed from outside the door. “Oi, wake up, you sack of bones! Training starts in ten. Get up, now!”
Lethe groaned and pulled himself together. As he walked down the corridor, he could almost hear his own thoughts complaining about the early hour. “Great, another day of pain,” he muttered. Still, he knew there was no escape; he had chosen this path.
When Lethe reached the training grounds, he saw Aren standing there with his arms crossed, looking serious but with a hint of a smile. “You’re right on time,” Lethe said, even though he wasn’t really in the mood for small talk.
Aery walked by then. She paused and looked at Lethe with a playful smile. “Good job, my knight! You actually woke up!” she teased.
Lethe gave her a deadpan look. “Thank you, m'lady. I almost don’t want to serve you now,” he replied. Aery laughed lightly and moved on.
Aren stepped forward and clapped his hands together. “Alright, today’s lesson is simple. You’re going to stand right here and channel your mana until you either pass out or I say ‘stop.’”
Lethe blinked, trying to hide his annoyance. “That's it?” he asked.
“That’s it”
Lethe sighed. “Is it one of those things where it sounds simple enough but is really hard?”
“You have no idea,” replied Aren with a confident smirk.
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Twenty minutes later…
Lethe closed his eyes and focused. He let the mana flow from deep inside him, forcing it outward in a steady stream. At first, it felt almost nice—like a gentle warmth spreading through his veins. But as the minutes ticked by, that warmth turned into a burning heat. Every muscle in his body started to protest.
At ten minutes, his hands began to shake a little. By fifteen minutes, his vision was a bit blurry at the edges. He tried to keep going, knowing that in a real fight, any interruption in his flow could cost him dearly. He remembered what his mentors had said: channeling mana was like holding your breath; the longer you do it, the more likely you are to collapse.
Aren watched him from a short distance. “Not bad,” he said. “Most recruits collapse in five minutes”
Lethe muttered."Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
“More like an observation,” Aren replied. “Keep pushing.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
By twenty minutes, his hands were shaking uncontrollably. Every nerve felt like it was on fire. He knew that even a small hit could break his concentration completely. And that was a lesson he had learned the hard way.
“You’re hitting your limit,” Aren called out. “Most knights drop around now.”
|“Cool. Not planning to.” Lethe said with a hint of defiance.
“Then let’s push it further,” challenged Aren.
Before Lethe could steady himself, Aren stepped forward and delivered two quick, controlled strikes—a jab to the stomach and a hit to the shoulder. Lethe’s focus shattered instantly. When your body is channeling mana, even a light punch sends everything into chaos. He staggered backward and rolled on the cold ground to avoid another hit.
“Are you just beating me up now?” Lethe groaned, struggling to catch his breath.
“No,” Aren said with a small grin. “This is part of the training. You need to learn to keep your mana flowing even when you’re hit. In a real fight, if you lose focus from a single blow, you’re finished.”
“Sounds like an excuse to beat me up,” Lethe retorted, though his tired eyes showed that he knew it was true.
“Maybe a little,” Aren mumbled.
Desperately, Lethe redirected his remaining energy into his legs and leapt backward. His landing wasn’t graceful—he stumbled, rolled, and got back to his feet, but he did it. “Good instincts,” Aren said, nodding. “We’ll work on refining that.”
Lethe managed a weak smile. “Yeah, well, it was either that or get punched again.”
“Exactly,” Aren replied. “Now, once you finish here, we move on to the next test.”
Lethe forced himself to keep going. After another fifteen grueling minutes, his vision started to fade, and the steady flow of mana became nothing more than a flicker. With a final, shuddering gasp, he collapsed onto the cold stone floor.
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After he finaly failed--
Aren knelt beside Lethe and checked his pulse. “Not bad for a first day. You lasted longer than I expected.”
Lethe managed a tired smile. “You expected… less?”
“Most people collapse in the first 15 minutes,” Aren replied, matter-of-factly. “You’re not like most people.”
Lethe’s eyes fluttered open as he struggled to sit up. The training had drained him—physically, mentally, and magically. Still, a small spark of pride glowed inside him. He had pushed past his limits, even if it wasn’t by much.
Just then, Aery passed by again, pausing at the edge of the training grounds. With a teasing glint in her eye, she called out, “Still alive, I see?”
“Barely,” Lethe muttered.
Aren patted Lethe on the shoulder, a mix of pride and caution in his tone. “Welcome to training, buddy.”
Lethe could barely register the words as his thoughts turned back to the session. Today had been brutal, but he knew it was only the beginning. Learning to channel mana steadily—and learning that even a small physical hit could disrupt that flow—was a step toward survival on the battlefield.
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Later that same afternoon…
The training grounds were now set up for the next challenge—a test of raw physical endurance. In the center of the field, a heavy weight station had been arranged. Today’s test was simple in idea but nearly impossible in execution: Lethe was to wear a suit loaded with weights totaling two tons and run as far as he could. His previous record in a similar test was a measly seventy meters.
Aren shouted from the sidelines, “Time to see if you can put those two tons to good use! Your goal: break seventy meters!”
Lethe eyed the heavy, clanking suit with a grimace. “Two tons? That’s like carrying a small building on my back,” he muttered under his breath.
Aren shrugged. “If you’re going to be a knight, you’ll have to handle more than just your own weight. This is about building physical and mental endurance. Think of it as fighting against gravity itself.”
With a resigned expression, Lethe stepped into the rig. The suit was a mix of metal plates and worn leather, designed to be as heavy as possible without completely restricting movement. Each clank and creak reminded him of the burden he was about to face. Taking a deep breath, he started to run.
Every step was a battle. The two-ton weight dragged him down, and every stride felt like he was walking through mud. His legs burned, his lungs screamed, and his arms felt like lead. Yet, he pushed forward, determined not to let the weight crush his spirit.
For the first twenty meters, his pace was slow and measured. Each step was deliberate, and his focus was absolute. Then, as his body adjusted to the strain, he picked up speed. By the time he reached sixty meters, his vision blurred and every heartbeat echoed in his ears. Every sound faded into a dull roar, and all he could think about was reaching his goal.
Aren’s voice rang out, “Keep going, Lethe! You’re almost there!”
With one final burst of will, Lethe pushed himself, his body shaking from the effort. Step by step, he inched past his old record. But just after seventy meters, his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground, the heavy suit dragging him down.
A hush fell over the training ground. Aren’s eyes showed a mix of admiration and grim satisfaction. “Not bad,” he murmured softly. “You managed to break your record—even if just a little.”
Lethe lay there, gasping for air, sweat mixing with tears as his body fought to recover. The pain was almost too much to bear, but in that moment, he felt a spark of determination. He had pushed further than before, even if only by a few meters.
As dusk settled over the castle, Lethe was helped back to his modest quarters. Every joint ached, and his mind buzzed with conflicting thoughts—pride, exhaustion, and a quiet dread about what lay ahead. Alone in his room, he sank into a creaky chair and whispered to himself, “I didn’t ask for any of this… but maybe it’s the only way.”
Those words, heavy with resignation, echoed in the silence. Every drop of mana he had channeled and every agonizing step he had taken was a step toward the knight he was meant to be. Even if it meant enduring endless pain, there was no turning back now.
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End of Chapter 6
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