After eating and taking painkillers and tablets, both Dev and Karan slept like kids the whole day. Finally, around 8 PM, Dev's eyes opened. He looked around and then sat up. The moment he put his feet down, a stinging pain shot through his legs—though less intense now and somewhat bearable. His body had already adapted to the muscle strain from the day, but the injuries were still there.
He now had a complete understanding of his physique:
First — It adapts muscles to strain every 6–8 hours. Second — It doesn't give any overpowered boost, just enough so that if the situation arises, he can get through it with less suffering. Third — With each injury, his healing factor improves. Fourth — To become truly overpowered, he has to go through a lot of pain.
Dev, unlike the dumb protagonists who start jumping the moment they're magically healed, first woke up Karan to see how he would react.
Karan woke up, rubbing his eyes.
"It's time for dinner," Dev said.
Karan sat up and put his feet on the ground. The moment he did—
"Ahhhh!" A painful scream burst out.
"Damn it, where are the painkillers?!" Karan shouted, quickly downing one.
He slowly managed to stand. Dev followed, and together, with bare bandaged feet, they limped to the cafeteria.
Other trainees were in the same condition—limping around, still chatting.
Since both of them weren't social, they ate quietly and returned to their room.
With their phones confiscated for the first month, they now just lay on their beds, staring at the ceiling in silence.
[Next Day]
Ding... Ding... Ding... Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...
Exactly at 3:30 AM, the alarm went off again. After freshening up, they both headed to the training ground.
[Dev's POV]
"Morning, everyone!" Lieutenant General Arjun greeted us from the stage.
"Seems some of you couldn't even pass a simple task—running 60 km. For such weak people, the Special Forces have no place." He continued.
I looked around. There were only about 70 trainees left. That's a huge drop just from Day 1.
"Today's task is very simple—just 1000 push-ups and 1000 pull-ups. I hope to see all of you tomorrow."
After dropping that bomb, he left.
We were lined up according to our batches. Batch A and Batch C started with push-ups. Batch B and Batch D, including me, started with pull-ups.
I swear, they either want us to shit our pants or die. 1000 push-ups? Doable. But 1000 pull-ups? That's borderline insane. I was sure our hands would be bloody messes by the end.
Still, at least they didn't make us do leg exercises. Not that I couldn't manage it—but the others? I clicked my tongue in denial.
I reached under a pull-up bar. An assistant officer stood beside me with that same thin stick. He started counting my reps, just like he did with the others.
I kept a steady pace until I hit 70 pull-ups. Then, the guy next to me lost his grip and—Swush! His pain-filled scream echoed. The assistant didn't stop until he was hanging again, trembling.
At 110 pull-ups, my grip started giving out too. I needed a break, but if I dropped, the stick demon would skin me alive.
An idea popped into my head: maybe I could pull myself up and rest on the bar. God, I was wrong. Within 2 seconds, a stinging pain hit my calf.
"Who told you to stop?!" the assistant officer barked.
I jumped down. The stick rained down on my back. I tried to ignore it. My legs were already adapted to worse. Compared to that, this was manageable.
Stretching my muscles, I went up again.
By the time I reached 935 pull-ups, my hands were completely bloody. Blood ran down my arms. My grip was dead. I knew if I dropped now, it was over.
So I kept going.
997... 998... 999...
The moment the officer said the number, my hands gave out and I fell straight on my bum.
My upper body was on fire. My hand skin was shredded—literally hanging from the bar.
It hurt. Like, really hurt. I genuinely felt like giving up.
But I killed the thought instantly. I had nowhere else to go.
I dragged myself to a tent nearby. Thank god for the medics. I found her again.
Still didn't know her name, so I called her "Angel". But today, I had no energy for flirty comments.
And man—she was no angel.
She poured alcohol on my wounds and I nearly cried. Gave her an angry look, which she ignored completely.
Bandaged and broken, I moved to the resting area. We had a 3-hour break before the next drill.
Around 20 trainees were already here. Soon, Karan showed up too. I realized—I hadn't noticed him at all during the entire drill.
"Your angel is a complete devil," he whispered, his face twisted in more pain from her than from the pull-ups.
"I already know," I whispered back.
Now that I think about it—Karan's muscles weren't just for show. And neither were anyone else's here. People were somehow managing to survive this.
Three hours passed. We ate. Stretched. Then...
Another painful drill.
Our muscles were still sore. The moment I placed my hand on the ground for push-ups, jaw-crunching pain hit me.
With the instructor counting, I started.
The thing with push-ups is: if your form is wrong, you waste energy. So I focused on keeping my form solid. By 100 push-ups, it became subconscious.
An hour later, I finished all 1000.
The blood from my hands had soaked through Angel's bandages.
I limped back to the tent. She wasn't there this time.
Someone else re-bandaged me. No words exchanged.
I returned to where Karan was resting. He'd finished too.
Both of us limped back to our room.
[Dev POV Ends]
Next day
At exactly 4 : 00 am trainees again gathered in the ground and the number fell to 50 from 70.
Dev and Karan both standing somewhere in middle were listening todays task.
"Morning everybody"