Cal Everene woke up like a man who had wrestled a truck in his sleep—and lost. Every muscle in his body ached, from the soles of his feet to places he didn't even know muscles existed. He groaned as he rolled over, face buried in his pillow, and groaned again as he sat up like an old man with two slipped discs.
He rubbed his eyes and blinked into the soft morning light bleeding through the curtains. And then, with a dumb grin and a quiet grunt, he lifted his shirt to check his stomach.
Nothing.
No six-pack. No faint trace of one. Not even a proud little bump. Just soft, pale skin and maybe one confused-looking ab trying to figure out if it should show up to work. Cal dropped his shirt and flopped back onto the bed. "Who am I kidding? I only did physicals yesterday. I'll be ripped by next week. Easy."
A second later, Garron's deep voice echoed in his memory like a drill sergeant on loop: "No cabs. You jog. Every day. That's an order."
Cal stared at the ceiling.
Then sighed.
"…Damn it."
—
By the time he got to school, Cal was drenched in sweat and already hating every part of his legs. His calves were singing hymns of protest. But he made it. Barely. And even though his shirt clung to him and he probably looked like a half-drowned cat, there was something kind of satisfying about arriving on his own two feet.
During break, he and Nate were parked under their usual shaded tree. Nate was halfway through a sandwich, but that didn't stop his wide-eyed gawking as Cal recounted everything.
"You're telling me," Nate said between bites, "that the Ledger looks like a tech palace, has its own military-grade wing, and this Garron dude is basically built like a refrigerator?"
Cal nodded. "A fridge that does MMA in its free time."
"Damn."
"Not to mention the symbol—hexagon-looking thing. Etched into the front wall. Looked all official. Like, 'we run the damn world' kind of energy."
Nate whistled. "So how's training?"
"Deadly."
"You survive?"
"Barely."
Nate chuckled, and before he could respond, a voice cut in.
"Hey, guys."
Both boys turned. Becky Hangston stood a few feet away, her hair glinting under the sunlight, eyes bright as ever. She smiled at both of them but her gaze hovered a little longer on Cal.
"Hey, Becky," Nate said casually, elbowing Cal lightly. "What's up?"
"Just wanted to say hi." She nodded at both. "Catch you later."
And then she walked off, just like that.
Nate's eyes followed her, then slid to Cal with a slow grin.
"Oh yeah," he said. "That definitely wasn't just a 'hi.'"
Cal tried to act indifferent. "Shut up."
—
School dismissed with the usual ring of freedom, and just as Cal stepped through the gate, his phone buzzed.
[Selene Virelle]
You have 10 minutes to report. I'm timing you.
Also, don't trip on your way here—would hate for Garron to break more than your spirit.
Cal stared at the screen, muttering, "I hate her," before bolting toward the nearest alley to shortcut his way to the Ledger.
—
Panting like a half-dead animal, Cal reached the towering obsidian-and-glass building and practically stumbled inside, pressing one hand to the wall to catch his breath. Sweat dripped from his brow.
Selene was already waiting near the main lobby, arms folded, leather jacket traded for something far more casual—and far more lethal: tight black jeans and a dark crop top that exposed a scandalous amount of cleavage and midriff. She raised a brow as she saw him gasping.
"Took you nine minutes and fifty-seven seconds. Impressive," she said. "Though if you ever make Garron wait again, we'll need a mop for what's left of you."
"Got it," Cal wheezed.
"Then get your ass moving. Training room. Now."
—
The doors to the Training Wing hissed open, and Cal dashed inside like a soldier running into war. The familiar scent of steel, sweat, and ozone filled the air.
Garron stood in the center, arms folded. The man was massive—pure muscle under skin, and his black compression top made him look like a sentient bulldozer. His arms were crossed like pillars, and his face could have cracked concrete.
Cal stopped dead. The room went silent. Garron began to walk and each step felt like a countdown to death. Cal shrank a little with every footstep. He finally stopped in front of him. They were face-to-chest, and even then, Cal had to tilt his neck to look up.
Garron cracked his knuckles and Cal flinched
"If you're late again…" Garron said, voice low and rumbling like an earthquake. "I won't say what happens."
He didn't. He just smiled.
And it wasn't a nice smile. It was the kind of smile villains wore when the hero lost.
Cal nodded so fast it looked like his head might fall off.
"Good," Garron said. "Let's begin!."
—
The next few hours blurred into a painful haze of motion. Cal obeyed every order, pushed through every rep, and gritted through every moment of exhaustion. Garron didn't let up—not for a second. By the time break was called, Cal collapsed onto the mat like a felled tree. He was drenched, muscles on fire.
Garron handed him water. Cal drank like a dying man, then, still panting, looked up. "Hey… why are we doing all this?"
Garron turned to him, half-sitting on a bench.
"This isn't about your ability," he said. "Not yet. You're building a foundation."
"But… my power's theft. Why do I need to lift weights for that?"
Garron looked at him hard. "You awakened. That makes you better than normal people. But right now, you'd still lose a foot race to an athlete."
Cal frowned.
"The goal," Garron continued, "is to become superhuman. Faster, stronger, more durable. Training builds that. You think power's everything? Try using it with a weak body. You'll break yourself."
Cal let that sink in. "So… what if an athlete awakens? Keeps training?"
"They'll be monsters," Garron said. "Some already are."
Cal blinked. "Okay… but what if you awaken first, then train?"
Garron shook his head. "You'll improve. But the power works with what it has. It enhances the raw material. You want to be great? Make the raw material great."
Cal went silent. Processing.
And then—
"I figured you two would be having this chat," a new voice purred.
Both turned.
Selene strode into the room like she owned it—because she did. Tight leather pants. Crop top. Hair tied up into a high tail. And a look that could make statues blush.
"I was listening in from the analytics room," she said casually. "Thought I'd give our rookie a proper demonstration."
Garron grinned. His teeth looked like they belonged on a wolf.
"About time."
They faced each other, twenty meters apart. Selene nodded toward Cal.
"Stand back, pretty boy. And don't blink."
Cal scrambled out of their immediate space and tucked behind a training pillar.
The air went still.
In the blink of an eye, the distance between Selene and Garron vanished. Their movement was a blur—craters exploded beneath their feet. A sonic crack followed as their hands collided, palm to palm, a deadlock of strength. The shockwave from their clash rattled the building. Cal nearly lost balance.
Selene grinned.
Garron grinned harder.
They leapt back—then shot forward again. Selene swung a punch. Garron caught it with his left arm. The impact sparked a flash of pressure that sent a metal weight stand crashing over.
They kept going.
Fast. Brutal. And absolutely impossible to track. Cal could only hear the cracks in the ground, the distant blur of movement, and the echoing boom of fists meeting arms, legs, or the floor.
At one point, Cal fell over completely when the floor quaked.
Then—
A speaker crackled above.
"Uh, ma'am? Sir? Most windows on the south wing just shattered. If you keep going, we might lose the ceiling."
Silence.
Selene looked up, chuckling. "Oops."
Garron wiped a trickle of sweat. "We always do this."
They both laughed.
Cal, still flat on his back, stared in absolute disbelief. They weren't even serious.
And yet…
That was just physical strength?
No abilities?
He didn't even want to imagine what their actual powers could do.
Selene walked over, crouching beside him.
"Head spinning?"
Cal nodded weakly.
"You'll get there. Maybe." She smiled and stood, walking away like nothing happened.
Garron clapped his hands. "We're done for today. Maintenance has to patch the damage."
Cal lay there for a moment longer and then slowly sat up.
One thought echoed in his head.
I have so far to go.
But for the first time, that thought didn't scare him.
It excited him.