When the morning session ended, the courtyard slowly emptied. The trainees scattered toward the mess hall or their rooms, eager to rest before the afternoon drills.
But Erik stayed.
He stood before one of the wooden dummies, fists wrapped and jaw set, driving punch after punch into its frame.
Thud Thud Thud
Each strike landed with a steady rhythm. The sound echoing through the quiet yard. He then shifted seamlessly into kicks, his foot snapping into the wood with precision before resetting his stance.
Sweat darkened his training uniform, but he didn't slow.
At the edge of the courtyard, their instructor lingered, arms folded. He watched for a moment, then shook his head with a sigh.
"Stubborn boy" He muttered under his beard, voice too low for anyone to hear.
He'd tried before to advise Erik to rest, to save his strength and allow his body to heal.. But the boy never listened. The trainer turned at last and walked off, leaving Erik to his relentless practice.
A short while later, Feng and Li came strolling back across the training ground.
Feng carried a jug of water, his usual composed expression unchanged by the training they had just finished. He sank onto one of the stone steps, tilting the jug back for a long drink.
Li, meanwhile, couldn't resist. He slid into position beside Erik and began hammering at the wooden dummy next to his, mimicking his rhythm with exaggerated gusto. "Hah! Look at that.. Two maniacs instead of one. Now this yard finally looks alive."
Erik didn't break stride, his punches snapping forward with the same cold precision.
"So.. Huff.." Li said between blows, casting a sidelong glance at him "How was the little dance with Gao Lei this morning? Was he giving you trouble ? Or just being his usual charming self?"
Erik's fist cracked into the dummy, his face calm, unbothered. "Same thing as always. Tryin' to pull me into his little circle. Nothin' new."
Li laughed, shaking his head. "Figures. The guy thinks he's the center of the world. If he pulls any harder, his arms might fall off." He delivered another precise punch just to make his point, earning a sharp look from Feng.
"You should take him seriously" Feng said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "He's older, he's been on missions. That makes him dangerous."
Li smirked, shrugging. "Yeah yeah.. Doesn't change the fact that he is annoying you know." He leaned toward Erik with a grin. "So what did you tell him?"
Erik allowed the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth before resetting his stance. "Told him no. Like always."
Li threw back his head with a laugh. "Cold as ice, my friend."
Feng only sighed, shaking his head as he settled back against the step, but there was the faintest flicker of approval in his eyes.
Li grunted as his fists smacked into the wooden dummy, sweat dripping from his brow and running down his neck.
His strikes weren't sloppy, but they lacked precision—more stubborn force than disciplined flow. He panted between blows, jaw clenched.
On the stone step, Feng lowered his jug just enough to watch.
His expression carried the faintest smile, equal parts amused and exasperated. "You look like an idiot." He said flatly, though his tone wasn't cruel—more like a brother pointing out the obvious.
Li shot him a glare, his chest heaving. "Shut it. If Erik can go from sunup to sundown, why can't I? He's younger than me!" He punctuated the words with another heavy punch that made the dummy shudder.
Feng arched an eyebrow in response. "The teacher already said overtraining ruins the body. Push too hard, and instead of getting stronger, you just break yourself." He tapped the side of his head. "I even read it in one of the medical texts in the library."
Li barked a laugh, wiping sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve. "Of course you did. Figures you'd be studying books while I'm out here actually training." He threw another kick at the dummy, then winced, shaking his foot. "Besides, maybe your stupid book is wrong. Look at Erik, he doesn't seem to be breaking. Hehe, Maybe we're just built different."
Feng gave him a long look, unimpressed. "You're built like a child with poor impulse control."
Li grinned, ignoring the jab. "Maybe. But if Erik doesn't break, then neither do I. I already told you.. I'm not letting anyone outwork me. You can sit there sipping water and reading books all you like. Me? I'll keep trying to be the best"
Feng shook his head slowly, a rare hint of amusement touching his lips. "You'll only be the best at collapsing before dinner.."
Erik kept his rhythm steady, fists cracking against the wooden dummy in a precise cadence. He didn't look at Li or Feng, but he heard every word of their exchange.
Feng wasn't wrong.. He thought coldly. Neither the teachers.
Overtraining is real. Push the body too hard, too often, and it won't recover. The muscles don't rebuild, the tendons wear down, and instead of growing stronger, you just break yourself.
Fatigue, slower reflexes, higher risk of injury… Even your immune system caves in. That's how you grind a normal person into the ground.
Another punch snapped out, striking the dummy hard enough to rattle the frame. Erik's expression stayed still.
But I'm not normal. Not anymore.
He tightened his fists, feeling the thrum of strength running through his veins. His spider-enhanced physiology gave him stamina far beyond the human limit, muscles that could withstand punishment, nerves that recovered faster than anyone else's here. His body rebuilt itself at a pace that left the others in the dust. That was why he could train this much and wake up ready to do it all again.
I'm not human—I'm something more. That's why I can keep going.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Li hammering away at his own dummy, stubborn fire in his eyes. Erik said nothing. Telling him to stop wouldn't matter.. The boy's pride was too thick, his will too sharp.
So he let him be.
Instead, he focused on himself, on the strikes flowing smoother and sharper with every repetition. He drove his fists harder into the wood, his kicks sharper, each movement honed to perfection.
Sweat rolled down his back, muscles burning—not in exhaustion, but in relentless sharpening.
Erik continued to push the training harder and harder. If his body could handle it, then he would push it to its limits—and then beyond.
After nearly two hours of non-stop training, the courtyard had finally grown totally quiet. The air thick with the smell of sweat and dust.
Li stumbled back from the wooden dummy, pale and drenched, his strikes losing all rhythm. He leaned over, clutching his stomach before he collapsed to his knees and vomited into the grass at the edge of the yard. Gasping, he rolled onto his back, arms sprawled out, his chest rising and falling in ragged bursts.
"Ugh… Head's spinning!" He groaned, eyes half-shut, breath wheezing in and out.
From the step nearby, Feng raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. "You look pathetic. I warned you this would happen." He said, tone calm but laced with dry amusement.
Erik who had just stopped, stood-sweat running down his face, soaking into his uniform, but his breathing was steady, measured.
"Stubborn brat.." He muttered for himself, glancing down as he looked at his friend sprawled in the grass.
Erik's thoughts drifted deeper as he leaned against the wooden dummy.
Li's no fool. For all his bravado, his talent is real. Just like Feng and Midnight.
Exceptional—that's what they are. Erik thought, his mind suddenly shifting to Gao Lei.
And him? Average. Maybe a little more than average, but nothing exceptional. Not like them. It's no surprise he's trying so hard to pull us under his wing. Deep down, he knows the truth. Sooner or later, when Li, Feng and Midnight hit their peak.. When their age catches up to their talent—he'll be nothin' in comparison. The only thing he has now is his age, the extra strength and experience that comes with it. But once the odds are even… He's gettin' wiped off the board.
Erik let the thought linger, then walked over and sat down next to Feng on the step. He extended his hand silently toward the jug.
Feng passed it over with a faint look of admiration. "I don't understand how you can keep going like that without breaking."
Erik took the jug, his expression calm, almost playful for once. "Simple" He said dryly. "Genetics." He tilted the jug back and drank deeply, water spilling down his chin before wiping it away with the back of his hand.
Li groaned from the grass. "That's not fair…"
Ignoring him, Erik set the jug down and glanced at Feng. "Why did you choose the name 'Feng' anyway?"
Feng's lips twitched at the question. He leaned back, looking up at the faint clouds above. "I didn't choose it." He admitted. "It means wind.. One of the instructors gave it to me. Said when I fight with a sword, I move like the wind.. Fast, cutting, unpredictable." He lifted his hand, making a lazy slicing motion in the air. "So the name stuck."
Erik nodded while Li raised his hand weakly from the ground. "More like a fart in the wind." He muttered, eyes still closed.
Feng sighed and shook his head, but the corner of his mouth betrayed the faintest smile. Erik let out a short, rare laugh, brief but genuine, before reaching for the jug again.