SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 132: Attribute Training (4)

The machines were quiet. No hiss, no warning, no buzz. Just sudden blur strikes. Mid, high, low. One clipped his shoulder, another grazed his side.

He adjusted. Footwork tighter. Weight balanced.

Then they doubled in speed.

Lucen started laughing under his breath.

’This is how gladiators died.’

—

By the time he limped off the ring, his hair was soaked, his shirt was stuck to him, and his legs felt like deadweight. His system was ticking.

[Reflex Training Achieved]

[Endurance +1]

[Minor Bruising Detected: No Action Required]

Varik handed him a protein pack.

Lucen squinted at it. "This tastes like drywall."

"You’ll live."

Lucen popped the seal and drank it anyway. It tasted like chalk dipped in rust.

He said, "You know, I bet there are kids out there training with like, rubber swords and breathing exercises."

Varik shrugged. "Then let them."

Lucen groaned and leaned back on the bench, head tilted toward the steel-paneled ceiling. "So what’s next? You make me sprint underwater? Hang off a cliff by my ankles?"

Varik cracked a rare half-smile.

Lucen narrowed his eyes.

"Wait. Wait. That wasn’t a joke?"

—

Lucen’s arms were dead.

Not tired.

Dead.

Like they belonged to someone else now. Someone dumb. Someone who volunteered for war crimes disguised as a workout.

He was flat on his back on the reinforced mat, eyes half-open, a single strand of hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. The lights above him looked like interrogation beams. Probably were.

Varik stood beside the new machine. Some kind of weighted pulley system built into a rune-sealed cage. Looked like it belonged in a villain’s basement.

Lucen raised one hand, middle finger up. "You hate me."

Varik didn’t react. "It’s a neutral opinion."

Lucen groaned and sat up. His core screamed. His lower back muttered curses in nine languages.

"This next one’s for dexterity and reaction timing," Varik said, gesturing to the side of the cage. "Weighted catches. Twenty-five reps. One drop resets the count."

Lucen looked at the machine.

Then at Varik.

"Be honest. This place used to be illegal, right?"

Varik tapped a rune. The cage came alive with mechanical hums.

Lucen dragged himself up. Gripped the handles.

A small orb fired out of the side without warning. He caught it. Barely.

Another shot out from behind.

He turned, caught that one, too.

Then two fired at once.

He dropped one.

Varik said flatly, "One."

Lucen whispered, "’One,’ he says. Like a threat."

—

Five minutes later, he was back at zero again.

"I swear it changed angles midair."

"Nope," Varik replied. "You just blinked."

Lucen caught the next two with a snap of his wrists. Then another. Then another.

’Okay. Focus. No more complaints. Just finish.’

He didn’t.

But he did make it to seventeen before the final orb slammed into his stomach like a dodgeball from hell.

Lucen doubled over, gasped, "Cool. That’s where my soul was."

Varik tapped something on the pad. "Six-point improvement from the last set. Not bad."

Lucen raised a trembling fist. "Victory is mine."

—

They moved to the resistance line.

It was a simple setup. Two walls. One rope.

Lucen stared at it. "This is just tug of war with myself."

Varik nodded. "Pull yourself from one end to the other. Resistance triples every meter."

Lucen touched the rope.

It buzzed faintly. Mana-encoded. Grippy and hot.

He took a breath.

And pulled.

—

Two minutes in, his knuckles were raw, his forearms were stone, and his breath sounded like someone had stuffed a vacuum into his chest.

Halfway through, Varik leaned in with the casual tone of someone asking about lunch plans.

"You still eating like trash?"

Lucen growled, "Is this really the time for a diet talk?"

"You want attribute gains to stick or not?"

Lucen grunted as he yanked another half-meter forward. "I eat fine."

"You had chips for breakfast."

"There were eggs."

"Powdered."

"Still counts."

—

He finished the resistance pull with one hand on his knee, the other wiping sweat from his jaw. His shirt was stuck to his ribs. His face felt like it’d been dunked in a sauna, slapped, then left out in the sun.

System pings chimed lazily.

[Strength +1]

[Endurance +2]

[Dexterity +1]

[Grip Skill Acquired: Ropeflow Control]

Lucen squinted at the notification.

’That’s not a skill. That’s a medieval punishment.’

Varik handed him another protein bottle. This one tasted like unflavored despair.

Lucen downed it in one go.

"Next?" he asked, voice hoarse.

Varik tilted his head toward the side of the gym.

"Cardio track."

Lucen blinked.

"That’s just a slope."

"Fifty percent incline," Varik said. "With runes that kick in halfway up."

Lucen stared at the slope. Then back at Varik.

"You really do hate me."

"I respect your potential."

"Same thing."

—

Varik stood just off the platform.

Arms crossed. Weight mostly on his left foot. No clipboard. No notes. Just eyes. Watching Lucen grind his way through the incline run with all the charm of a dying mule. Legs shaky. Breath loud. But the kid didn’t stop.

That mattered more than clean form.

The incline track glowed dim blue, resistance runes kicking in halfway, just like Varik said they would. A harsh climb. Brutal at this stage.

Lucen’s foot slipped once. He caught it. Reset his rhythm without looking at anyone.

’He learns.’

Varik’s pad buzzed quietly.

He didn’t check it right away.

Just glanced at Lucen again.

The kid had shifted his posture, lowered slightly, shortening stride. Adaptation without prompt. Smart. Not flashy. Just better.

The pad buzzed again. Longer.

Varik finally looked.

Incoming call. ID locked. Only one group used that encryption tier.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, turned slightly and walked toward the edge of the hall, away from the track. The call connected before he even tapped it.

A low female voice came through.

"Still dragging him through the mud?"

Varik didn’t blink. "He’s not dragging."

Silence for half a beat.

Then: "We saw the feed. The kid’s clean. Dangerous. And too quiet."

"He’s learning."

Another pause.

Then the voice sharpened.

"The Heads want a status."