Chapter 9

A Strong Mind For A Strong Body

Five days had passed since Adom's return to Kati, a time he had spent basking in the peace and love of his family. But the tranquility was pierced by the unyielding presence of the blue box. Three days ago, it had issued a new quest: reach level 3 within three days or face a punishment. Adom, wary of defying the box's commands, yet uncomfortable with its dictation, resolved to act. Inquiring about levelling up, the system instructed him to train his body and enhance his physical condition.

Even though he was cured and healthy, Adom was still a shadow of his physical potential – a slender, frail figure. Determined to rise to the challenge, he sought out Trojer, the young man was a local prodigy in athleticism and boxing. At 16, Trojer had claimed the regional boxing title against opponents twice his age. Reluctant but persuaded by Adom's determination, he agreed to train him.

The training regimen they embarked on was nothing short of grueling. Each day began at 5 am, with Adom lacing up his running shoes in the dim light of dawn. They would run for two hours, pushing through the pain and exhaustion, the cool morning air their only respite. After a hearty breakfast, they moved to muscle training – a series of intense workouts designed to build Adom's strength and endurance.

The first day was a brutal wake-up call. Adom, used to the frailty of his body, found himself gasping for air, muscles burning with unaccustomed exertion. Trojer, a tower of strength and discipline, set a relentless pace. "Come on, Adom! Push through it!" he encouraged, or rather demanded, as Adom struggled with weights that seemed to mock his previous life's weakness.

Sasha watched, a mix of amusement and awe on her face, as Adom grunted through another set of push-ups. "Never thought I'd see the day," she chuckled, taking notes as Adom meticulously adjusted his hand positions for optimal muscle engagement. His approach was methodical, applying a scholarly rigor to physical training, jotting down observations on posture and technique, transforming his inexperience into a calculated challenge.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the landscape, the sparring sessions began. Trojer, a master in the art of boxing, initially went easy on Adom. Each spar was a dance of jabs, hooks, and uppercuts, with Trojer skillfully guiding and correcting Adom's form. Adom, though outmatched, was a quick study, his intellect shining through in his adaptive strategies and keen observations.

"Keep your guard up, Adom!" Trojer would bark, as a gentle tap from his glove grazed Adom's cheek.

"Trying not to get hit is more exhausting than actually getting hit," Adom would quip, panting but grinning.

The second day, the training took on a more dynamic turn. Sprinting across the fields, Adom's strides were clumsy at first, his body unaccustomed to such explosive movements. Trojer, ever the expert, demonstrated techniques to maximize efficiency and speed. "Use your arms, Adom, drive forward!" he instructed. Sasha, alongside, timed the sprints, her eyes widening with each improvement in Adom's timing. "You're getting the hang of this," she noted, a hint of respect in her voice.

Adom's responses were often witty, a surprising contrast to his physical struggles. "If only book smarts translated to leg muscles," he quipped, causing both Sasha and Trojer to burst into laughter. It was in these moments, amidst the sweat and toil, that they noticed a change in him. "You're different, Adom," Trojer observed during a brief rest, "more... mature, somehow."

Gradually, the spars became more intense. Adom's progress was tangible – his punches grew sharper, his footwork more agile. By the third day, he had started to read Trojer's patterns, predicting and countering moves in ways that even Trojer hadn't anticipated. Yet, victory still eluded him; Trojer's experience and skill were formidable walls to breach.

The training sessions were intense and often comical. Adom, who had never engaged in such physical activities due to his previous illness, had his muscles burning with an unfamiliar ache. Trojer, a tower of strength and encouragement, guided him through weight lifting, sprinting, and push-ups. Each exercise was a battle, Adom's face contorted in determination, his body trembling with effort.

"Come on, Adom! Lift with your legs, not your back!" Trojer would shout, his voice a mix of sternness and amusement.

Adom, struggling under the weight of the barbell, would grimace and reply, "Hey, I'm trying you know?"

Evenings were for meditation and essentia absorption. Adom sat cross-legged, his mind delving into the depths of his being, seeking to harness the mystical energy that flowed within. It was a time of introspection and renewal, each session leaving him more attuned to his inner strength.

On the evening of the third day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a fiery glow over the landscape, Adom and Trojer prepared for their most intense sparring session yet. Sasha, with a gleam of excitement in her eyes, assumed the role of referee and bell-ringer. The air was thick with anticipation; this was more than a mere training exercise – it was a testament to Adom's growth and resilience.

As they squared off in the makeshift ring, Adom felt a surge of adrenaline. He was no longer the frail, uncertain man who had first approached Trojer for training. His body was leaner, stronger, and his mind sharper, honed by days of rigorous physical and mental conditioning. Trojer, ever the formidable opponent, wore a look of competitive glee mixed with a brotherly benevolence.

"Ready to dance, Adom?" Trojer asked, bouncing on his toes, his gloves up in a defensive stance.

"I was born ready," Adom replied, mirroring his stance, a determined glint in his eyes.

Sasha, standing outside the ring, called out, "Ready? Fight!" and rang an imaginary bell with her hands.

The match began with Trojer added around each of his wrists and ankles, heavy training bands were securely fastened, adding significant weight that challenged his speed and agility. Adom noticed the change immediately, understanding the handicap Trojer had imposed on himself. Trojer took the initiative launching a series of jabs aimed at testing Adom's defenses. Adom, moving with newfound agility, dodged and weaved, his eyes locked onto Trojer's, reading every subtle shift in his body. He recalled every movement, every pattern he had observed in their previous spars. It was as if he could almost predict Trojer's actions, his body reacting instinctively.

"Nice footwork, but don't forget to counter," Trojer advised as he threw a quick one-two combo. His movements hampered by the weights, but his technique flawless.

Adom, absorbing the advice, pivoted on his heel, narrowly avoiding a hook, and responded with a counter jab that grazed Trojer's cheek. It was the first time Adom had managed to land a hit, however slight, and it fueled his confidence.

Trojer grinned, a sign of respect for Adom's progress. "That's it! Now keep it up!"

The sparring intensified, with Trojer increasing the pace, his punches becoming more forceful yet controlled. Adom, pushed to his limits, responded with equal vigor. He ducked under a powerful swing, feeling the rush of air as it passed over his head, and retaliated with a quick succession of body shots.

"Keep your guard high," Trojer reminded him, as he deftly blocked Adom's punches.

Adom adjusted his stance, keeping his gloves up, his breathing steady. He was in the zone, every sense heightened, every movement a response to Trojer's. The two danced around the ring, a display of skill, strength, and mutual respect. Adom's mind worked overtime, analyzing, predicting, executing.

Sasha watched, her eyes wide with admiration. "Come on, Adom! You've got this!" she cheered, her voice full of enthusiasm.

As the sparring neared its end, both fighters were drenched in sweat, their breaths coming in heavy gasps. Adom, despite his fatigue, felt a sense of exhilaration. He had held his own against Trojer, learning and adapting with every round. In the final moments, Trojer launched a swift uppercut, a move he hadn't used before. Adom, caught off-guard, took the hit squarely on the chin, stumbling backward.

"And that's time!" Sasha called out, rushing to Adom's side. "Are you okay?"

Adom, rubbing his jaw, nodded with a smile. "Never better," he replied, his eyes shining with the thrill of the challenge.

Trojer extended his hand, helping Adom to his feet. "You did good. Really good. I'm impressed," he said, sincerity in his voice.

Adom clasped Trojer's hand, gratitude and respect in his eyes. "Thanks to you. I couldn't have asked for a better teacher."

As the evening air cooled, the trio sat on the grass, catching their breath after the intense sparring session. Trojer, still processing the events of the past three days, turned to Adom with a look of genuine admiration.

"Adom, I've got to say, I'm not just impressed, I'm amazed. The training program we followed was designed for seasoned athletes, professionals. For you to not only endure it but excel in it, that's extraordinary," Trojer said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Adom, wiping sweat from his brow, offered a tired but satisfied smile. "Thanks, Trojer. It was tough, but I had a great teacher."

Sasha, sitting cross-legged beside them, added, "Not just tough, Adom. You were incredible! To think, just three days ago, you were..."

Her voice trailed off, but the implication was clear. Adom's transformation from the frail young man to the determined, agile fighter before them was nothing short of miraculous.

Trojer leaned back on his hands, gazing at the stars beginning to twinkle in the twilight sky. "You know, I've always known I had a knack for boxing. It's something I worked hard at, but a part of it always came naturally to me. Seeing you, Adom, adapting so quickly, learning from every move, every defeat... it's not just hard work or determination. You have a real gift."

Adom pondered Trojer's words, a sense of pride mixed with a newfound sense of purpose filling him. "I guess I had a lot of catching up to do," he mused.

Trojer chuckled. "Catching up? Man, you're rewriting the playbook. The way you analyzed my moves, anticipated them, and even countered some... I have to admit, there were moments I forgot I was sparring with a beginner."

As the trio continued their conversation, a familiar blue glow caught Adom's attention. The blue box materialized before him, its message floating in the air: [Congratulations! Level 12 achieved. New skill unlocked: Quick Reflexes (Beginner level).]

A wide grin spread across Adom's face, his blue eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and relief. He felt a sudden rush of energy coursing through his veins, an invigorating surge of essentia that seemed to rejuvenate his entire being. It was a tangible sign of his progress, a reward for his relentless effort and determination.

Sasha, noticing the change in Adom's demeanor, tilted her head in curiosity. "Why are you smiling like that? Did you think of a funny joke or something?"

Adom, seizing the opportunity for a bit of light-hearted banter and keen to remind himself playfully of his actual mental age, responded with a wink, "Well, Sasha, I was just thinking how in a few years, you'll be fighting off admirers left and right. Better start preparing your 'sorry, I'm too busy studying magic' lines now."

Sasha's cheeks flushed a deep red, and she playfully smacked Adom's arm. "Oh, stop it, Adom! You're just being silly!" she exclaimed, her embarrassment clear yet tinged with a hint of laughter.

Trojer chuckled, joining in the fun. "He's got a point, Sasha. You're gonna be breaking hearts at the Sorcerer Academy."

Adom laughed heartily, enjoying the light moment with his friends. It was these simple, joyful interactions that reminded him of the preciousness of the life he was fighting to protect and the relationships he cherished.