"You are out of your damn mind!" I roar, beside myself.

Magister Mulligan looks at me without flinching, without his forehead creasing in the slightest. The fact that I felt an almost lethal amount of pain run through my nerves – so strong that it almost knocked me out – doesn't seem to bother the man at all.

"This is stupid!" I say, pointing at the sword. "How do you expect me to lift it if my body literally shuts down just touching it!"

Magister Mulligan smirks in reply.

"Stop whining, young Luciani. The pain comes from your body needing to adjust to the amount of power required to lift the sword. Your body is exceptionally fragile. The amount of pain you are experiencing is a simple result of that."

I stomp on the paved road of this God-forsaken place, wishing I could dislodge one of the stones and throw it at the [Archmage]'s head—

ZAP!

My sight goes blurry again.

The pain!

The pain, this time, is tenfold what I'm used to.

When I come back to my senses, the old man just smirks again.

"The Runes double as an excellent teaching method, too, it seems. You were getting too used to the punishment. Disrespect might have been rampant in your culture, young Luciani. But here, if I wasn't this benevolent, you would have already deserved death three times over. But fear not; we shall, in time, correct your behavior. I trust in you—well, I trust the Runes and corporal punishment," Magister Mulligan strokes his beard while chuckling.

"Listen," I say warily, not ready for another pain-enhanced jolt of electricity, "this is crazy. This is absolutely too much. Can't you just tone down the Runes, I don't know, just a little bit? How am I supposed to pick that thing up otherwise?"

"I've mentioned training Skialaer and Filaer, young [Mage]. Even though only one of them was effectively a combat specialist and the other a [Strategist], they could both lift a sword like the one you are trying to use without breaking a sweat when they were fifteen. They only needed enough Runes to advance faster. You, Joey Luciani, are weak. Extremely weak. Coming from a coddled-up family and society. I know your world enough to speak about it. Your parents—"

"My parents did the fucking best they could!" I find myself shouting before I can even think.

I brace myself for the current, but nothing comes.

"I'm sure they did," Magister Mulligan nods. "It does not change how they wasted your talent. Now, I will settle on a small addition. Perhaps I did go too far. So, have this."

Magister Mulligan snaps his fingers, and a bed appears several yards from us.

"What? A bed?"

"Enchanted with [Tenfold Rest]. That is why you’ve been feeling so rested. I was planning on running you with no sleep, but I will allow one hour of sleep per day. It will still place you under enough stress to gain a good class and find enough challenges for many early levels, but it will make this ordeal easier on a child from Earth."

My brain fails to register what this madman just said.

"You wanted me not to sleep for thirteen days straight?!"

"If I were you," he says, ignoring my protest, "I would start attempting to lift the sword. Speaking won't change the fact that this puppet will try and kill you on your last day here."

"Jesus Christ!" I shout, looking back at the puppet, reminded of what I had thrown myself into.

"You can put it on hold whenever you want before then. During the last twenty-three hours, though, it will actively try to kill you. No breaks, no pauses. Kill or get killed, young Luciani."

I looked back at the puppet and then at the sword on the ground.

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"Goddammit!" I swore out loud before squatting down again by the hilt of the sword and swallowing.

Alright, Joey, I told myself, you’ve got this. One step at a time. Try and raise it by maybe half an inch. It weighs a lot, but it doesn't mean I can't just take it slowly, right? I can get my muscles used to it very slowly. Very slowly.

"Becoming special has always been as scary as you thought it would, young Luciani. You just have to realize what's on the other side of all this pain. When you do, it will make it worth it."

Hesitantly, I lower my arms like an orangutan trying to pick up a banana from the ground. However, unlike the primate, I have a crazy [Archmage] who cast a torture spell on me.

I swear to God, I think to myself. I swear to fucking God…

I slowly grip the sword, already feeling the first pinpricks of pain shooting up my arms through my wrists as if there was a fountain of acid fire in them.

I swallow, and ever so slowly, I push up with my legs. As soon as I start leveraging the sword from the hilt, pain erupts inside me in the same exact way. Stronger, if that's possible.

I immediately release the humongous hilt of this manga-sized sword and cuss, hissing and wildly shaking my limbs. It doesn't really help with the pain, though.

"MOTHERFUCK—why?! JESUS!"

I take a few deep breaths under the calm scrutiny of Magister Mulligan, who is so still he might as well be a statue.

I look at him and then at the sword a couple of times, wishing I could light both of them on fire with the power of my mind.

One day, Joey. One day, I tell myself.

I tried again a few times but to no avail. This is simply impossible.

"Your kind seems to be reassured by science. Young Luciani, let me provide an explanation that might better fit your worldview."

"Consider, if you will," [Magister Mulligan] starts explaining with a pedantic voice, "how your muscles grow in your world. Physical training and exercise cause minor damage to your muscle fibers. Your body, in response, repairs and builds upon these fibers. Over time, these micro-tears and their repairs lead to stronger and larger muscles. The pain you feel when you exercise strenuously is the result of this tearing and repairing. The mechanism behind the Runes I've inscribed onto your body is vaguely similar but far more potent."

His smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with a perverse form of amusement. I clench my jaw and just listen. It's not like I can do much else right now.

"Your muscles, young Luciani, are subject to a microscopic tear and rebuilding at an accelerated rate, thanks to the magic-infused in the Runes. Every time you lift the sword, your muscles are forced to exert themselves beyond their capacity. This overexertion leads to tears. When you put the sword down, and your muscles relax, they begin to rebuild immediately. This cycle of tear and rebuild is happening at a highly accelerated pace, and that is the source of your pain."

"What the actual hell? So, wait. You understand biology that well? I didn't even remember this information myself.”

"Yes," he smirks again. "One day, I shall explain to you how it works, but for now, do remember that this is barely a simplified explanation for a child from Earth. What shall happen within your body is extremely more complex than what your science can explain. I won't bother you with it now, but you are forming what the Vanedeni call the Aionios tissue."

"What?" I ask, confused.

"It is derivative of what you would call 'adaptive change,' young Luciani. In your world, when you exercise, you create what is known as 'metabolic stress.' This happens when you push your body to perform at a higher level than it's used to, causing your muscle cells to produce certain substances, or 'metabolites,' in response to this exertion. These metabolites cause damage to your muscles, which, in turn, triggers a repair response from your body."

He pauses, looking at me to ensure I'm following.

"Ok?"

"Your body, being the wonderfully adaptive organism it is, strengthens these muscles in preparation for future instances of such stress. This adaptive change results in increased muscle mass and strength over time. The principle behind the Runes I've inscribed on you is somewhat similar but operates on a much more potent level."

His smirk widens, and I tighten my grip on the sword’s hilt.

"The magical energy within the Runes essentially amplifies the process of metabolic stress in your body. When you lift the sword, your muscles are forced to work far beyond their natural capacity. In your Earthly understanding, this creates an unprecedented amount of metabolites, which leads to an equally unprecedented level of muscle damage. The moment you release the sword, your body triggers an intense repair response."

"But instead of waiting for the usual repair period your body is accustomed to, the magic in the Runes accelerates this process and injects itself in it, rebuilding your muscles in a fraction of the time it would take under normal circumstances—recreating it from scratch following new patterns. This rapid cycle of stress, damage, and repair causes an inordinate amount of inflammation. That, the metabolites, and all that I've just explained is the source of your pain."

"Injecting magic," I mutter under my breath, a sickening understanding creeping over me. "So, you're telling me you've turned my body into a magical... bodybuilding machine… juiced up by… steroid-like magic?"

"In essence, yes. You're undergoing what could be likened to a constant and amplified state of high-intensity training. And the pain... well, your body is not accustomed to such rapid cycles of damage and repair. For now, it's crying out in shock."

"But why does it have to be so painful?"

"It usually isn't this painful. Your body has never experienced such rapid growth, though. It's like asking a toddler to lift a weight he can't even comprehend. But don't worry; with time, your body will adjust. It will begin to grow accustomed to the accelerated process, and the pain will lessen."

I frown, looking down at the sword and then back at the puppet.

Is this really worth it?