For about a month, Darius made Kael meditate for long stretches of time. At first, he meditated two hours a day. The following week, it became four. Then eight hours daily.

  At first, Kael felt bored. But under Darius's expert guidance, something began to change.

  During the first week, Kael was instructed to meditate for two hours each day. He asked many times why it was necessary, but Darius would only reply, "You will soon realize."

  As the hours passed, Kael noticed something strange. Each time he meditated, he felt a subtle surge of power within him. He felt slightly stronger while immersed in the silence—not much, but enough to produce a faint, pleasurable sensation.

  During his first four-hour meditation session, Darius finally spoke midway through.

  "You see, meditation is not simply a way to relax. Relaxation is only a byproduct of the body becoming aware of the energy it already possesses. Each session allows a wisp of this energy to flow through you. It enhances your body's functions. Your cells produce more energy. Your heart beats slower because your lungs infuse more oxygen into your blood. When this energy circulates, countless chemical processes shift—some accelerate, others slow down. Your body optimizes itself according to the energy you allow it to receive.

  "Imagine you have a cup of water. What you are receiving now is merely the vapor rising from its subtle warmth. You haven't tasted a single drop. That cup was drawn from a river connected to an entire sea. You are only beginning."

  When the meditation ended, Kael felt as if he had drunk two cups of coffee. He felt awake—strange, yet powerful.

  "Now," Darius said calmly, "you will begin doing push-ups."

  From the beginning, Kael had been a weak child. Whenever his grandfather told him to try a push-up, he would collapse halfway down.

  But now, he got into position—and completed one.

  Darius watched with an approving expression. Kael continued.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Darius knew Kael was frail, so when he reached fifteen, he was astonished. Kael's face turned red, his arms trembling violently. Then memories flooded his mind—his grandfather burning to ashes, his mother's scream.

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  Kael let out a cry and pushed harder.

  Darius was too stunned to speak.

  Kael stopped at twenty-six. His arms finally gave out. His entire body ached. He stared blankly ahead before standing up, staggering in a zigzag, and collapsing into Darius's arms.

  "Good," Darius said softly. "Use your anger. Use your sadness to lift yourself. I feel sorrow because of what you endured—but this path requires endurance."

  The scene repeated over the following days.

  By the sixth day, Kael managed one hundred push-ups across three sets. Afterward, he sat down and told Darius to leave him alone. He began meditating again. After thirty minutes, he felt completely renewed.

  He understood now.

  He resumed exercising—push-ups, running around the house, and other bodyweight exercises—for twenty minutes straight until exhaustion forced him down. Then he meditated for an hour and started again.

  He repeated this cycle eight times that day.

  To Kael, the changes felt gradual and almost unnoticeable. But when he entered the house that evening, Darius stood up.

  He could see it—faint but undeniable—semi-developed muscles forming on Kael's once frail frame.

  "Keep up the good work," Darius said with a satisfied look.

  On the seventh day, Kael pushed further. Between each meditation, he exercised not for twenty minutes—but thirty-four.

  Then, the next morning at five, several black-robed men approached the house carrying massive boxes. The crates looked extremely heavy; the men struggled to lift them.

  When they arrived, Darius glanced at them. Instantly, they disappeared, leaving the boxes behind.

  "Now," Darius said calmly, stacking the boxes effortlessly with one hand, "the real training begins."

  When Kael woke up, the yard—once an empty green field—was filled with enormous crates. Darius stood there, smiling faintly, as if remembering something distant.

  "What is this?" Kael asked.

  "This," Darius replied, "is what will elevate you to the next level."

  They opened the boxes together.

  Inside the first were dumbbells—sleek and metallic. Each crate was one cubic meter in size, completely filled.

  Kael wondered how such massive weights had arrived without noise, but he pushed the thought aside.

  There were four boxes in total.

  One contained dumbbells.

  Another held weight plates.

  The third contained a back-training machine.

  The last one was different.

  It was made entirely of dark metal.

  Kael reached toward it, but Darius stopped him.

  "You don't want to open that one yet. It may scare you."

  They began organizing everything. Kael could barely lift the smallest dumbbell—five kilograms—so Darius helped him set up the weights in order.

  Five kilograms.

  Ten.

  Fifteen.

  They increased in increments of five.

  At fifty kilograms, the dumbbell had already grown intimidating in size. But the next one weighed one hundred kilograms.

  The remaining three weighed two hundred, three hundred, and finally five hundred kilograms.

  The last one was nearly the same size as Kael himself.

  Kael stared in disbelief as Darius lifted the five-hundred-kilogram dumbbell with one hand and set it down casually. When it hit the ground, the earth sank slightly beneath it.

  The yard trembled.

  "Well," Darius said calmly, "training resumes."

  Kael felt fear—but also excitement. This was a new chapter.

  For a moment, he imagined himself lifting the massive dumbbell as effortlessly as Darius.

  He smiled.

  It felt impossible.

  But not forever