SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 131: Attribute Training (3)
Varik walked past him, already rolling his sleeves. "Define legal."
Lucen muttered, "Yeah, okay. Good talk."
He followed.
The air in the gym was dry. Not dusty. Just dense. Like it had weight. Every breath he took felt two clicks heavier than the last.
Two guys were running in place on the far track, both of them panting like they’d been chased by an actual dungeon boss.
One of them looked like he was mid-rank A, maybe even peak. His shirt was soaked. His legs were shaking. He still nodded at Varik when he passed.
Lucen looked sideways. "You bring students here often?"
Varik shook his head. "Never."
Lucen stopped.
"Wait, never?"
"You’re the first."
Lucen stared at him.
Then stared at the gym again.
Then back at him.
"...You’re such a freak."
Varik grabbed two weight bands from the wall and tossed one to him. "Put that on."
Lucen caught it.
It looked like an oversized wristband. But the moment it touched his skin, it hummed, faint, but present. His system pinged a soft caution.
[Warning: External strain device detected. Estimated multiplier: 2.4x]
Lucen squinted at the warning, then said, "It’s multiplying everything?"
"Weight. Tension. Blood flow resistance. Yes."
"Great."
"Every thirty minutes, we rotate. Upper body, lower, reflex, system-enhanced pulse endurance, and finish with the chamber."
Lucen blinked. "That’s the warm-up?"
"No," Varik said, tone casual. "That’s the first hour."
Lucen groaned. "I hate you."
Varik smiled.
Almost.
—
The first set wasn’t bad.
Mana-weight squats. Glyph-stabilized balance lines. Core holds against vibration fields. Lucen was sweating halfway through, but it was the right kind of pain, controlled, measurable, fight-prep pain.
Then the pulse tests started.
"Step onto the mark," Varik said.
Lucen did.
The platform lit up, counted three seconds.
Then punched his calves with a surge of reverse-gravity pressure that nearly made him fall backward.
"Jesus!"
"Don’t fight it," Varik said. "Let it roll up your spine. Then lock your knees and redirect the push down."
Lucen spat the air out of his mouth and snapped, "You try locking your knees with mana jammed up your pelvis!"
The platform beeped again.
Lucen caught himself mid-lurch, found his center, then flared a slow burn through his lower legs to compensate.
[Dexterity +1]
[Strength +1]
He grinned, just a little.
’Okay. Maybe I don’t hate this part.’
Next came the feedback wall.
Three rows of mana panels, set to pulse randomly. Every time one flared red, he had half a second to smack it. If he missed? Mana surge. Temporary fatigue penalty. Varik didn’t explain that part.
Lucen missed one on purpose just to see.
The penalty was real.
By the time he reached the gravity chamber, his shirt was glued to his back and his biceps felt like overcooked rope. The floor inside the chamber rippled like water when he stepped in. Not liquid. Just pressure modulation.
Varik didn’t follow.
Just tapped the interface panel from outside and said, "Seven minutes. Low orbit sim."
Lucen walked in, legs dragging, and muttered, "If I throw up in here, you’re cleaning it."
The door sealed.
The gravity shifted.
—
Lucen braced himself in the gravity chamber, feet spread, knees bent, arms up like he was about to box the atmosphere. The air felt like it weighed forty pounds. Each breath came slower, deeper. Every blink was a conscious decision.
The system pinged softly in the corner of his vision.
[Oxygen Saturation: 81% — Fatigue Threshold Approaching]
’Cool. I’m gonna die doing squats.’
He grit his teeth and dropped into another rep. No bar. Just his own body, the multiplied pressure, and the fact that Varik was watching from outside with his arms folded like some judgmental gym dad.
Lucen held the bottom of the squat for three seconds, then rose.
Barely.
[Strength +1]
He let out a low breath and muttered, "If I pass out in here, leave my body in a dramatic pose."
Varik tapped the glass. "Focus."
Lucen muttered under his breath, "Focus on not dying. Got it."
—
They moved on.
The next section looked like something out of a boot camp nightmare. Balance beams twenty feet above a padded mana-grid floor.
Target glyphs hovering mid-air. A rotating obstacle rig that looked like a carnival ride designed by someone with a vendetta.
Lucen stared at it.
"You’re serious?"
Varik adjusted one of the glyph targets without looking at him. "Speed. Coordination. Mana control. Don’t fall."
Lucen narrowed his eyes. "That’s not a great motto."
Varik looked back. "It’s not a motto. It’s a rule."
Lucen sighed and pulled himself up to the first beam.
The wood was cold. Smooth. Just slick enough to be annoying.
The first few steps were easy. He crouched, flared [Threadmask] to adjust his field balance, then triggered the first target glyph with a quick burst from [Shockweave Bolt].
One glyph down. Eight to go.
He moved faster.
Mid-run, a panel snapped open beneath him. A foam-tipped arm swung out.
Lucen ducked. It missed his head by inches.
He popped off another spell, [Frost Spire], aimed to catch two glyphs in one shot. It landed. Barely.
Another target dropped out of view before he hit it.
"Bullshit!" he called down.
Varik didn’t look up. "Adapt."
Lucen grumbled, "You’re really committed to this whole ’tough love by near-death’ vibe, huh?"
[Dexterity +1]
His foot slipped once, but he caught himself. Pushed through the course, smacked the last glyph on the jump, and landed in a crouch as the pads flickered blue beneath him.
Varik raised an eyebrow.
Lucen gave him a sarcastic thumbs-up. "Still alive."
Varik tossed him a towel. "Barely."
Lucen wiped his face and muttered, "You ever hear of yoga? It’s like this. But chill."
—
Next was the ring.
Not a full fight.
Just movement.
"You’ve got sixty seconds to dodge," Varik said. "No spells."
Lucen looked around the ring. "Who’s hitting me?"
"Machine arms," Varik said.
"What—"
A fist-sized metal sphere launched at his face.
He dodged just in time. Barely saw the next one coming.
Then it got fast.
