Bab 8: Training
"Be careful out there!" My mother says.
"I will!" I call, waving back at her as I turn and leave my house behind.
It's been several days since I took down that Stray Devil. Most of my injuries healed after a couple days, and as I planned, I went to the local library for the past few days. I told my mother that I'm heading there to look up books to help me with my homework. That'd been true the first time around. Not anymore, however.
Once I've gotten far enough, I turn and begin walking to the small forest I've gone to a couple times now. It doesn't take long, though I do garner some odd looks as I walk. Not surprising, considering the kidnappings are still fresh in everyone's minds, and seeing a young boy walk alone will probably bring up some red flags in people's minds.
I've learnt to ignore them.
The forest is as untouched as always. I walk deeper into the small woods, and I come across the trees I'd plundered my Primal Energy from. They've mostly healed by this point, their insides glowing with white lights through my mystical eyes.
The most eye-catching thing here is the inconspicuous cinder blocks, stacked neatly and randomly placed over a small tarp. I'm the one who brought them here, of course. And trust me, carrying bricks of concrete across town without getting seen? Nearly impossible.
The only reason I was even able to do it was because I did so at night, and because my eyes gave me all-vision.
I take a deep breath, and my plan is set into action.
I pull out a small iron pole I took from that unused plot, and I jam it into the tree closest to me. It reaches right through the bark, and Primal Energy begins leaking out as I pull the pole out. I brace myself for the pain, and I wince as heat rages through me the moment I press my palm onto the hole.
The moment ends earlier than I expected, and I quickly slap a strip of duct tape over the hole before I bleed the tree dry. I pull my hand away, and I soon realize that my body doesn't hurt as much as it should be. An effect of my first 'awakening', maybe?
Whatever the case may be, I'm not going to push my luck. I can go and plunder another tree for its Primal Energy, but I'm not going to do that. There's a surplus of Primal Energy swirling inside me now, and there's something I can use it for.
I walk over to the pile, and I begin piling as many cinder blocks of concrete I can possibly carry. It starts with two. Then four. I'm carrying eight cinder blocks in both hands by the time my arms begin to shake from all the weight. Then, like a bodybuilder would with his weights, I begin lifting.
I only manage a couple minutes of movement before my arms start to really hurt. I let the cinder blocks drop onto the dirt, and a pained sigh leaves me as I give my arms a good stretch. Even now, I can already feel the heat in my arms; a sign that my Primal Energy has begun working.
While I wait, I sit down and pull out the rope I 'borrowed' from home. I loop it around my legs, and I begin threading cinder blocks onto it. I tie more and more blocks onto the rope until I begin truly struggling to pull the chain of blocks with my legs. And with a deep breath, I begin pulling with my legs.
Once I can move my legs no more, I move to the cinder blocks I'd dropped minutes before, and I begin lifting again.
It's essentially a primitive version of all the things I could be doing in an actual gym. But I won't be going to a gym anytime soon. Because I'm pretty sure I'll be labeled a freak if someone sees me bench-pressing this much weight with a body this small.
And when I feel that I've burnt through my reserve of Primal Energy—not a difficult task when I'm working this hard—I'll move to a tree and absorb its energy.
Before I know it, hours have gone by. Morning changes to the afternoons, and I'm baked in my own sweat as I lay atop the dirt. My arms and legs feel like jello, my chest is burning with heat, and my stomach is growling in hunger. The cinder blocks are haphazardly lying around me, but I don't have any energy to move them back to the neat pile they came from.
My shirt's all dirty as well, but I have a spare shirt tucked into my backpack. I'll change to it soon, once I regain some semblance of motor function.
I end the day with a nice, long dinner with my family.
The next day, I do the same. Curling my arms, straining my legs, and all interspersed with moments of absorbing Primal Energy from the trees. My aching limbs protest against it all, and I'm sorely tempted to drop it all while I've just started. But I don't. I think back to that Stray Devil and how slow I'd been, and I push on.
The second day ends without fanfare.
The third day comes, and the same routine is played. Arm training, leg training, and energy replenishing. Over and over and over until my body can move no more. My breaths are warm, and my head feels light from the flips between exhaustion and wakefulness, but I don't let it stop me. My training continues despite it all.
Time begins to bend, and days seem to fly by. I'll be in that forest day in and day out, carrying an increasing number of cinder blocks as I drained Primal Energy from the trees around me.
And it's painful. Undergoing this repeating torture-, it hurts. My chest feels like it's constantly on fire, and the sheer amount of Primal Energy I'm taking in every day is straining my body to its physical limits. The only reason I'm not keeling over like I did before is because I'm not taking in all that Primal Energy in a single go.
I know that my body changes as the days pass. I don't know what's changing, and I don't intend to find out just yet. I pin all my focus on staying conscious and nothing else.
My family's getting pretty worried about how much time I'm spending outside, but I then show the stack of homework I have, and they can only pat my head in sympathy over the amount of work I need to do.
Of course, I've already finished it all, but it's the perfect excuse.
It also means less time seeing my family. Because, as much as I love them, there's only so many horny thoughts I can bear from my parents before I spiral into insanity. Like, I really didn't need to know that I was conceived when they fucked on the dinner table. Nor do I need to learn that they want to do it again.
I'd kept my expression still when I heard that thought during dinner, but my head was full with a symphony of 'Holy shit what the fuck?' and 'Aaaaaahh'. That latter thought lasted all the way until I slammed my head into my pillow.
Days go on.
A concern I had was the fact I might drain all the trees of their Primal Energy before they had a chance to replenish what they lost. And it is a viable concern, especially as the number of trees I drain increases day by day.
Thankfully, that never happened. It's fairly subtle, but the trees seem to regenerate faster the more times I drain them. I'm training them, almost.
Days go on.
I don't bother learning how to fight or anything. Reading techniques from books works well enough, but it'd be better if I can somehow convince my parents to sign me up for a course or something. Then again, I'm not so sure how I'll be able to do that.
It doesn't mean I won't learn how to punch, though. My eyes can easily show the inefficiencies in my movements, and when I'm too knackered to do any more training, I'll use my eyes to see what I can fix and practice accordingly.
And I do mean every movement. Walking, sleeping, breathing, punching, sitting, and so many more. The human body is a marvel of natural engineering, but there are more than enough oddities clanging together that stops a human from being perfectly efficient. And maybe it's these imperfections that make us human, but that's a philosophical thought I'll save for the future.
Days go on.
At some point, I find myself running low on cinder blocks. And as I did before, I snuck out at night, 'borrowed' a few dozens from that unused plot, and rushed back to the forest under the cover of darkness. It's far easier this time, considering my slowly building strength.
That aside,
It's…relieving, really. This routine I've placed myself under, as painful as it is, it's predictable. There's no threat I need to watch for just yet. There's no deadline I need to meet. No boss I need to work under, nor any punishment lying in wait. There's always dinner waiting back home, and a family that welcomes me home.
That empty apartment from a life ago almost seems like a dream.
Days go on.
But then, the twentieth morning after I began my routine, as I was drying my hair with a towel, I notice something in the mirror. There's something odd in my hair. I use my eyes to see what's wrong, and my body stills as the oddity comes into view.
A strand of white is nestled in my brown hair. It isn't the white of aging, nor is it a lack of color born from stress. No. It's a pure sort of white, similar to the soft hues of snow in winter. It glistens almost.
And suddenly I realize that, soon, my hair will change. I'm not so sure what to feel about that.
(But at least I'll still have my hair. I can't imagine what'll happen to me if my hair starts falling out.)
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone