The Nameless Heir-Chapter 39: The Body That Endured

Kael needed a mentor. Someone to guide him. Orion would’ve been perfect—but he hadn’t returned. None of the elite knights had. And time... time was slipping through his fingers.

Lying on his comfy bed, he remembered what Orion once told him during training:

"Endurance is everything."

That gave him an idea. So he waited until everyone was asleep.

He waited until the lights went off. Until the halls were still. Then he sneaked out, quiet as a shadow, and headed for the training hall.

The door was big. Heavy.

He tried to open it, but it didn’t move.

For a second, he thought it might be locked. But then he remembered—Orion had opened it easily.

He planted his foot, grabbed the handle again, and pulled with everything he got.

It shifted. Just a little.

But not enough.

He leaned in, put his back into it. His shadows crept up his arms, like they were responding to the effort.

Then he pulled harder.

This time, the door moved.

He stepped inside.

The lights flicked on.

Kael flinched. His heart burst out of his chest.

"I got lost!" He paused. "No, no—I’m sleepwalking!" he shouted on instinct, already preparing a lie.

No answer.

The room was empty.

Cold. Quiet.

The training hall was wide. Still. It looked clean—until you looked closer. Every wall carried the scars of a hundred battles. Dents. Cracks. Blades had been here. Sweat too. The floor still had that faint shine... more than last time he was here. He remembered. It reminded him of Orion. Of their training.

This was the place where they became brothers.

He hesitated.

He didn’t know how anything worked. He didn’t even know where to begin.

Then he remembered how Orion made it work.

Kael straightened, took a deep breath, and said quietly,

"Gravity... times one hundred."

The pressure hit instantly.

His legs gave out before he could react. He hit the floor hard, face-first. The air was knocked from his lungs. Heavy pressure pressed down on his back. His ribs hurt. His whole body shook. He wasn’t strong enough to handle this much weight.

He tried to catch a breath, but his body was pinned to the floor. Tried to move—nothing.

Heat spread fast, like fire stitched into his skin. He couldn’t lift his arm. Couldn’t turn his head.

It felt like the entire world was pressing down on his back.

He started to black out.

A low grunt left his throat. With the last bit of strength he had, he muttered,

"Turn it off."

The weight lifted.

He didn’t move. He just lay there, his face pressed against the cold floor, gasping for air. His chest rose and fell like it was fighting him. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

"Stupid," he muttered, voice rough. "Real smart."

But at least now he knew it worked.

He started slow.

Five times gravity.

One step. Then another.

His feet dragged. His muscles started burning. He gasped for air like he was choking on nothing.

Each breath was sharp. Raw. Each lap felt like a battlefield.

His knees gave out more than once. His vision blurred. His back throbbed—like something inside him was breaking, slow and deep.

But he didn’t stop. Because if he stopped now, he wasn’t sure if he could start again. And if he stopped here... he’d lose everything.

By sunrise, he could barely stand.

Clothes stuck to his skin. Arms useless at his sides.

He stumbled back to his room—more dragging than walking.

He needed a cold shower.

His body was aching. Sweaty. Heavy.

He sat under the shower, but the water wasn’t cold enough.

Not nearly.

It ran down his shoulders, warm and useless.

He just sat there. Eyes closed. Breathing slow.

Eventually, he stumbled up.

He opened the door—just as Liz raised her hand to knock.

They both froze.

Kael was shirtless.

His hair dripping wet.

Towel hanging to one hip.

His eyes were half-shut, like he was three seconds away from collapsing.

"Mornin’," he mumbled. "Or whatever it is."

She blinked.

Then blinked again.

Her eyes did a full scan—top to bottom, then back up.

Her face turned red.

"Why... why do you look like that?"

"You mean handsome? I don’t know."

He pointed downward.

"Ask Hades."

Then he ran a tired hand through his wet hair, water flicking off his fingers like he was in an Olympus shampoo commercial for Aphrodite.

"Ew. No. I mean why are you half-naked," she said, looking everywhere but at him now.

"How rude." He clicked his tongue.

"Is that any way to talk to a dying man?"

Then, without warning, he stepped forward and scooped her off her feet.

She yelped.

"Wanna try that again?" he grinned.

"Or should I teleport you through shadows just to teach you some manners?"

"Please no," she muttered, squirming in his arms.

"Shadow traveling feels cold. And gross. And I get motion sickness."

He let out a long, over-the-top sigh.

"Damn it, woman. Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Looking adorable."

She laughed.

He followed.

He finally set her down.

She fixed her hair.

He adjusted the towel like it was some kind of royal robe.

"You need sleep," she said. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

"I need snacks," he replied.

"Snacks and sleep. In that order."

"Can I eat while I sleep?"

"No."

"Then we’re doing it wrong."

The routine began.

Sleep through class.

Eat like a monster.

Laugh with Liz.

Then—train alone.

Every night, Kael returned to that hall. Every night, he raised the gravity.

Ten times. Fifteen. Twenty.

Each increase brought new pain.

His muscles tore and rebuilt themselves. Tore again. His hands blistered. Peeled. Bled. The weighted bands around his arms and legs dug into flesh, rubbed skin raw.

The process was faster thanks to the godly energy in his veins.

He ran until he fell. Then crawled. Then forced himself to stand.

He swung his sword until his fingers locked. When they slipped, he picked it up again. Again. Again. Until his arms stopped responding. Until his shoulder felt like it might rip from the socket.

Then—he started over.

He slept two hours. Maybe three.

He dreamed of falling apart.

And woke up stronger.

By the end of the second week, he could move in fifty times gravity.

Not easily. Not gracefully.

But he moved.

By the third, he was adding weights. Bracers from Orion’s stash—thirty pounds each. Arms. Ankles. Back.

The sword felt heavier. His breath came slower. But he didn’t stop.

Sweat burned his eyes.

Blood dripped down his wrists.

His legs screamed.

His core locked.

But he kept going.

Because the pain meant he was still alive.

Because the pain meant he hadn’t reached his limit yet.

Because this was the only way.

Three weeks in, Kael activated one hundred times gravity again.

This time... he didn’t fall.

His knees bent—slightly.

His shoulders tensed.

But he stood.

And when he moved—it was steady.

He drew his sword.

Swung once.

The air cracked.

His arms didn’t shake.

His feet didn’t budge.

It wasn’t perfection. Not yet.

But it was progress.

And that was enough.

The foundation was built.

Now... it was time.

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