I woke to burning muscles and the taste of cotton in my mouth. Even breathing hurt. I tried—and failed—to lift my arms.

"Young master?" Sebastian's voice came from the doorway. "I see Lady Brunhilde's training has taken its toll."

A groan escaped my lips. This body was pathetically weak compared to my memories. Every muscle fiber screamed in protest as Sebastian helped me sit up.

"This will help." He produced a steaming cup that smelled of herbs and something else I couldn't identify. "An old family recipe, passed down through generations of servants who've dealt with... enthusiastic training methods."

I took the cup with shaking hands. The liquid was dark amber, almost golden where the light hit it. The first sip burned pleasantly, warmth spreading through my chest and into my aching limbs.

"What's in this?" The pain began to recede, replaced by a gentle heat that seemed to sink into my very bones.

"Ginger, turmeric, some other herbs." Sebastian adjusted my pillows with practiced efficiency. "And a touch of something special that helps the body adapt to strain. Best not to ask too many questions about family secrets."

I nodded, drinking deeply. The tea's effects were remarkable, not eliminating the soreness entirely, but making it manageable. My muscles still protested, but I could move without wanting to scream.

"Lady Brunhilde will expect you in an hour," Sebastian said, gathering my training clothes. "This should help you survive the morning at least. Though I suggest you eat lightly at breakfast."

I stared at my trembling hands as Sebastian laid out fresh clothes. Twenty-one years of theoretical knowledge meant nothing if this body couldn't keep up.

In my past life, I'd spent countless hours studying combat techniques, analyzing every aspect of movement and force application. But theory crashed hard against reality when muscles simply refused to respond.

"Something troubles you, young master?" Sebastian paused in his preparations.

"Was I always this weak?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

"Your focus has been on magical studies rather than physical training." Sebastian's tone remained carefully neutral. "The body responds to what we demand of it."

He was right, of course. My memories of this time showed endless hours in the library, avoiding physical activity while desperately searching for ways to unlock greater magical power. What a waste.

Understanding efficient movement meant nothing without the physical foundation to execute it. I flexed my fingers, feeling the residual tremors from yesterday's training. Even the simple act of gripping the teacup had been a struggle.

My chest and arms burned with every breath, muscles protesting the simplest movements. This wouldn't do at all. The tea's warmth had helped, but it couldn't mask the fundamental weakness in every fiber of this body. I'd need to completely rebuild my physical foundation.

"So, what do you think Lady Brunhilde has in store for me today?" I asked.

Sebastian seemed to laugh. "Running, I imagine, hence why I suggest you eat lightly."

I groaned, slumping back against the pillows. "Running? In this condition?"

"Lady Brunhilde believes in building endurance through consistent effort." Sebastian continued. "She mentioned something about laps around the training yard."

I forced my protesting body out of bed, each movement a fresh reminder of yesterday's torture. Sebastian helped me dress, though I noticed he took extra care not to aggravate my screaming muscles.

"The south courtyard again?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"North courtyard today. Lady Brunhilde mentioned something about the terrain being more... challenging."

Perfect. The north courtyard had more elevation changes and uneven ground. Just what my battered legs needed. At least the tea was helping - I could walk without wobbling too badly.

The morning air hit like a slap of ice water as we stepped outside. Frost coated the ground, making each step treacherous. Lady Brunhilde stood waiting, her breath visible in the cold.

"Good morning, young master." Her smile held no warmth. "I trust you slept well after your nap yesterday during training."

"Like the dead," I muttered, earning a sharp look from Sebastian.

"Excellent. Then you're well-rested for today's endurance training." She gestured to the courtyard's perimeter. "Twenty laps to start. Keep a steady pace."

I stared at the winding path ahead. The north courtyard was easily twice the size of the south, with short hills and dips that would challenge even a healthy body. In my current state...

"Now, young master. Unless you'd prefer thirty laps?"

I started running, if you could call it that. My legs felt like lead weights, each step sending jolts of pain through overtaxed muscles. The uneven ground forced me to constantly adjust my balance, engaging core muscles that screamed in protest.

Lady Brunhilde's voice followed me. "Faster. This isn't a leisurely stroll."

I increased my pace slightly, focusing on controlling my breathing. In my past life, I'd studied efficient running techniques extensively. The theory was clear: proper form to preserve energy and maximize motion.

But theory meant little when every muscle fiber rebelled against basic movement. The first lap felt endless. By the second, my lungs burned with each breath of frigid air. My shoulders curled inward as fatigue set in.

"Keep your head up," Lady Brunhilde called. "Your form is atrocious."

She was right. I could feel myself hunching forward. I tried to straighten, but my core muscles spasmed in protest. The uneven ground forced constant adjustments. The frost made footing treacherous.

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"Three laps completed," Sebastian announced from somewhere behind me. "Maintaining a steady pace."

Steady wasn't the word I'd use. My legs shook with each step, muscles threatening to give out entirely.

"Faster," Lady Brunhilde commanded. "You're barely moving."

I tried to increase my speed, but my body refused to respond. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. The courtyard walls seemed to waver and blur. My foot caught on an uneven patch of ground. I stumbled, barely catching myself before falling.

"Keep moving," Lady Brunhilde's voice cut through the haze of pain. "This is nothing compared to what's coming."

My legs buckled mid-stride, but before I hit the ground, Lady Brunhilde's iron grip caught my arm. She lifted me like I weighed nothing, her other hand pressed against my throbbing calves.

Ice spread from her fingers, not the harsh, biting cold I expected, but a soothing chill that penetrated deep into the inflamed muscle tissue. The pain didn't vanish completely, but the sharp edges dulled as the swelling subsided.

"Poor form leads to injury." Her fingers traced precise paths along my legs, the ice following her touch. "The body must learn proper movement patterns before speed can improve."

The numbness spread up through my thighs, replacing the burning sensation with blessed relief. I flexed my feet experimentally - movement came easier now, though weakness remained.

"This isn't healing," Lady Brunhilde said, setting me back on my feet. "Just temporary relief. Now, continue running. Focus on form over speed."

I started moving again, testing my newly numbed legs. The ice had done its work well - I could maintain proper posture without immediate collapse. Each step still required intense focus, but at least I could feel the difference between correct and incorrect movement now.

"Better," Lady Brunhilde called as I rounded the next corner. "Keep your chest up, eyes forward."

The temporary relief wouldn't last long. I could already feel sensation creeping back into my muscles. But for now, I concentrated on making each stride count, embedding proper mechanics while I could still execute them.

The world narrowed until it was just my feet striking frozen ground. Left foot, right foot, left foot again. Pain crept back into exhausted muscles. My chest heaved as I fought for air, the cold burning my lungs with every breath.

Sweat froze against my skin despite the exertion. The uneven ground forced constant adjustments, up slight inclines, down shallow dips, around frost-slicked corners. The courtyard walls blurred past.

Five laps. Six. Seven. My legs trembled with each stride. The precise form Lady Brunhilde demanded slipped away as fatigue set in. My shoulders hunched forward. My steps grew ragged.

Eight laps. Nine. The world tilted and swayed. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. My feet felt disconnected from my body, striking the ground without conscious control. Still they moved—left, right, left, right.

Ten laps. Eleven. Time lost meaning. There was only the next step, then the next, then the next. My lungs burned. My legs burned. Everything burned despite the biting cold. But still they moved.

Twelve laps. The frost-covered ground became a blur beneath my feet. My breath came in ragged gasps that tore at my throat. The pain spread up from my legs, consuming my entire body. But still they moved.

Thirteen laps. Fourteen. The world narrowed to a tunnel of grey stone and white frost. Nothing existed beyond the next step. Nothing mattered except keeping my legs moving. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.

The world spun as I rounded another corner. Fifteen laps. My legs moved through pure stubbornness now, each step a battle against muscles that had long since passed their limit.

"Keep moving," Lady Brunhilde's voice cut through the haze. "Your form is slipping again."

I tried to straighten my posture, but my body refused to cooperate. The precise movements I'd studied in my past life meant nothing now. Theory crashed against the reality of complete physical exhaustion.

Sixteen laps. The frost-covered ground blurred beneath my feet. My chest heaved with each breath, the cold air burning my lungs. Sweat froze against my skin despite the exertion.

"Four more," Sebastian called from somewhere behind me. His voice seemed to come from very far away.

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. The rhythm of my steps became a mantra, the only thing keeping me moving forward. My vision narrowed to a grey tunnel, the courtyard walls wavering at the edges.

Seventeen laps. The temporary relief from Lady Brunhilde's ice had long since faded. Every muscle fiber screamed in protest. But still my legs moved, driven by something beyond conscious control.

"Three more," Sebastian's voice again, closer this time. "Maintain your pace."

Maintain what pace? I could barely tell if I was moving forward or simply falling in slow motion. The uneven ground forced constant adjustments that my exhausted body struggled to handle.

Eighteen laps. The world tilted and swayed with each step. Black spots danced across my vision. My legs felt disconnected from my body, moving through pure momentum rather than any conscious effort.

"Two more," Lady Brunhilde called. "Finish strong."

Strong wasn't possible anymore. Finishing at all would be a miracle. But somehow my feet kept moving. Left. Right. Left. Right.

My legs finally gave out on the last lap. I crashed to the frozen ground. But I refused to stop.

My fingers clawed at the frost-covered stone as I dragged myself forward. My training clothes were soaked with sweat nearest to my skin while the outer layers were frozen. Left arm, right arm, pull. The rough ground scraped against my knees as I crawled.

My vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges. The cold stone beneath my hands numbed my fingers, but I kept moving. Pull. Drag. Pull. Drag. The rhythm of movement became everything. I couldn't feel my legs anymore.

My arms trembled with each motion, threatening to collapse entirely. But I kept going.

"Get up," Lady Brunhilde commanded from somewhere above me.

I tried. My legs wouldn't respond. So I pulled myself another few inches forward instead. The last corner seemed impossibly far away. My breath came in ragged gasps that tore at my throat.

Frost formed on my eyelashes, blurring what little I could still see. But I refused to stop. Pull. Drag. Pull. Drag. The world narrowed to the next handhold, the next few inches of progress. Nothing existed beyond the simple act of moving forward.

My arms shook violently as I rounded that final corner. The finish line might as well have been miles away. But I kept crawling. Through sheer stubbornness, I dragged myself the final distance. Pull. Drag. The stone beneath my hands left bloody streaks now.

My blackened fingertips had gone numb, torn nails catching on the frost-covered ground. But I kept moving. The final few feet took an eternity. My vision blurred, then sharpened, then blurred again. The world spun lazily around me.

When my hand finally crossed that last mark, I collapsed completely. The frozen stone felt almost warm against my cheek. My chest heaved as I fought for air.

"Twenty laps completed," Sebastian announced. His boots appeared in my limited field of vision.

Lady Brunhilde's footsteps crunched across the frost. "Acceptable effort. Though your form deteriorated significantly after lap twelve."

I wanted to laugh, but couldn't find the breath. Acceptable? I'd just crawled the last quarter lap like a broken animal. But I'd finished. Despite everything, I'd finished, even if the last stretch had been on hands and knees.

My fingers throbbed where they'd been torn open, the skin blackened from frost and friction. Fingers pressed against my neck, checking my pulse.

"His heart rate is elevated but steady," Sebastian reported. "Though I believe he's done for the morning."

"Agreed." Lady Brunhilde's voice held a note I couldn't quite identify. "Get him inside before he freezes to the courtyard. We'll continue with stance work tomorrow, once he can stand again."

Sebastian's arms slid under my shoulders, lifting me carefully. My legs dragged uselessly as he half-carried me toward the entrance. The world spun sickeningly with each step.

"I can walk," I managed to gasp out.

"Of course, young master." Sebastian's tone was perfectly neutral as he continued supporting my entire weight. "But perhaps we should save your strength for this afternoon's training."

My head lolled against his shoulder as he carried me inside. I could feel my sweat-soaked and frozen clothes beginning to thaw.

"The tea," I mumbled. "The special tea from this morning..."

"Already prepared and waiting in your chambers," Sebastian assured me. "Along with a hot bath to prevent your muscles from seizing completely."

I managed a weak nod as he carried me through the corridors. My body felt impossibly heavy, yet somehow disconnected at the same time. But underneath the exhaustion, a small spark of satisfaction burned.

I'd finished. Despite everything, I'd finished those twenty laps. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't efficient, but I'd done it.

Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.