"Alright Monroe, let’s start simple. Basic warm-up routine." Vale gestured toward what looked like a standard exercise mat laid out on the polished floor. "Thirty push-ups, forty sit-ups, sixty squats. Nothing fancy."

I almost laughed.

"That’s it?" The question came out more cocky than I’d intended, but honestly, this felt like Vale was underestimating what I could handle. "Just the standard stuff?"

Vale’s grin widened behind those designer sunglasses. "Just the standard stuff."

I dropped down and knocked out the push-ups without breaking a sweat. My C-rank Strength made each rep feel effortless, like pushing against air instead of supporting my body weight. The movements were smooth, controlled, exactly what you’d expect from someone who’d been training seriously for months instead of weeks.

The sit-ups followed just as easily. My core engaged without strain, lifting my torso in perfect form while my breathing stayed steady. The D-rank Endurance that was about to break into C-tier meant my muscles weren’t even starting to burn yet.

Sixty squats completed the set, and I stood up feeling like I could do the whole routine three more times without working up a sweat. The transformation from lottery loser to someone who could actually handle physical exertion felt incredible every time I tested it.

Vale watched the entire performance with that same amused expression, like he was enjoying a private joke only he understood.

"Not bad," he said, which was teacher code for better than expected. "Ready for round two?"

Round two turned out to be the same routine. thirty push-ups, forty sit-ups, sixty squats. Still easy enough that I finished without any real effort, though I noticed my muscles starting to engage more seriously this time. The burn was there, just barely noticeable at the edges of each movement.

"This is your elite training protocol?" I asked while standing up from the final squat. "Because honestly, I was expecting something more challenging from the guy who supposedly makes Elite Ten members cry during practice sessions."

Vale’s grin turned predatory. "Oh, we’re just getting started. Same routine again. Keep up the pace."

The sixth round hit differently. My muscles had to work harder to maintain proper form, and by the end of the squats, I could feel real fatigue setting in. Not exhaustion, not even close to my limits, but definitely more effort than the first two rounds had required.

Which made sense. Even with enhanced stats, doing the same exercises repeatedly would eventually tire anyone out. Basic math.

Vale called for a seventh round before I’d fully caught my breath.

This time the push-ups required genuine effort. My arms shook slightly on the final reps, and I had to focus on breathing correctly to maintain the rhythm. The sit-ups made my abs burn in ways that felt serious rather than cosmetic, and the squats left my thighs trembling just enough to remind me that I was still human despite the System’s upgrades.

"Getting warmer?" Vale asked, and there was definite amusement in his voice now.

"Still just a warm-up," I panted, trying to project confidence while my body sent increasingly urgent signals about needing rest.

tenth round.

The push-ups became a struggle halfway through. My form started breaking down as fatigue compromised the muscle coordination that had made everything look effortless earlier. I had to pause between reps, sucking in deeper breaths while my arms shook with the effort of holding proper position.

The sit-ups felt like someone had replaced my abs with concrete. Each lift became a battle against gravity and exhaustion, my core muscles screaming protest while sweat started beading on my forehead.

By the time I reached the squats, my legs felt unstable enough that I wondered if I’d be able to complete all thirty without falling over.

I managed it, barely, but standing up afterward required grabbing the wall for support while the world spun slightly around the edges.

"Interesting," Vale said, like he was observing a particularly fascinating scientific experiment. "Ready for round eleven?"

My lungs were working overtime to process oxygen, and every muscle group we’d been targeting felt like it was on fire. The easy warm-up had somehow transformed into genuine torture without changing a single element of the routine.

"What the hell is happening?" I gasped between breaths. "It’s the same exercises. They should be getting easier, not harder."

Vale pulled off his sunglasses and tucked them into his jacket pocket, revealing heterochromatic eyes that sparkled with the kind of mischief that probably got people killed in his line of work. "Physics, Monroe. Every rep creates micro-damage in your muscle fibers. Your body adapts by sending more blood to repair the damage, which makes the muscles swell slightly. Swollen muscles require more energy to move the same weight through the same range of motion."

I stared at him while processing this explanation.

"So you’re telling me the exercises get harder because I’m getting stronger?"

"Temporarily stronger, then weaker, then stronger again once you recover. It’s a beautiful cycle." He gestured toward the mat like he was presenting a gift. "Round eleven. Same routine. Let’s see what you’re really made of."

The eleventh round nearly broke me.

The push-ups required multiple breaks between reps, my arms shaking so badly that maintaining proper form became impossible. I ended up doing half of them from my knees, which felt like admitting defeat but was better than face-planting into the mat.

The sit-ups turned into an exercise in pure willpower over physical capability. My abs had progressed beyond burning into complete rebellion, each lift feeling like someone was trying to tear my torso in half. I made strange groaning noises that probably violated several noise ordinances.

The squats were a nightmare. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else, someone who’d never exercised a day in their life and was experiencing muscle failure for the first time. I had to use the wall for balance on every rep, and by squat twenty-five, I was pretty sure I was going to collapse into a heap and die right there on the Elite Ten facility floor.

Somehow I finished all sixty, though the final five squats were more like controlled falling than actual exercises.

When I tried to stand up afterward, my legs gave out completely. I ended up sitting on the mat, breathing hard enough to hyperventilate while sweat dripped off my face onto the expensive flooring.

Vale crouched down beside me, still looking entertained by my suffering.

"Not bad for a warm-up," he said cheerfully. "Ready for the actual training to begin?"