A Hospital in Another World?-Chapter 822: Cirella, Are You Making Soup or Cooking Me?!

Chapter 822: Cirella, Are You Making Soup or Cooking Me?!

"Boss, huff... the elder said, huff... that your, warrior training, huff... must not be neglected..."

Bernard, carrying a massive iron weight taller than himself, huffed and puffed as he ran laps around the training ground. As he ran, he tried to persuade Garrett, who was wearing a weighted vest and panting heavily.

Garrett's weighted vest was far superior! It was from the War God's Temple, used to train young, highly talented warriors, sewn from magical beast hides, with weights evenly distributed on the chest, back, upper arms, lower arms, thighs, and calves.

The weights could be adjusted from heavy to light in increments! The magical beast hide's power could evenly distribute the weight to every part! It was also breathable and sweat-absorbent!

Unlike their training, where they had to carry rocks or logs, sometimes their shoulders and backs ached without working out their chest muscles... No wonder the boss could get the War God's Temple to lend him such expensive training equipment!

"Little Garrett, since the teacher said so, just train with peace of mind." Archmage Carlisle sat in a recliner by the training ground, sipping juice, eating soft cakes and cream rolls, leisurely encouraging Garrett.

"Although mages don't need to be as strong as knights, having a good body is beneficial. Mental strength also needs physical support. A mage without a strong body won't go far. The teacher has high expectations for you!"

Garrett: "Huff... huff..."

He understood the reasoning, including that he couldn't stay in Nevis forever and would have to go out and explore—he was indeed interested in seeing what the world was like firsthand.

During adventures, there would always be times when he couldn't rely on others for protection and had to depend on himself. Training his physical combat ability wouldn't hurt.

But it was so exhausting!

"Boss, keep it up! Every priest of the God of Nature is strong! Since you've advanced to an eighth-level priest, your warrior level will improve quickly with just a little more effort!"

Anivia shouted, wiped her sweat, and ran past him. This girl, who had once led two big wild boars and a string of little boars to the Mage Tower effortlessly, was now a fourth-level priest and on the verge of reaching the fifth level.

According to her, "It doesn't seem too difficult. With a bit more accumulation, I should be able to advance..."

She had always followed the teachings of the God of Nature, progressing equally in both warrior and priest roles. Apparently, some high-level divine spells of the God of Nature did require strong physical support, like transforming into a bear for combat?

But I don't want to fight with my body!

Garrett wailed internally.

"Boss! Keep it up! When you advance to a knight, you'll be able to cut through high-level warrior bodies!"

Leon Carlos also cheered from the side. Garrett lowered his head, wiped his sweat, and resignedly continued running.

At this point, he was running purely on physical strength, without any protective spells or enhancement spells. Was this the third lap? Fourth lap? Fifth lap?

His lungs felt like they were about to explode, each arm swing and step felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. With each step, the sweat-soaked shoes squelched—

Clearly, all his sweat had flowed into his shoes from the weighted vest. Damn, wearing this was more exhausting than wearing a hazmat suit!

He remembered in his previous life, after finishing a shift in a hazmat suit, he had poured out water from the isolation suit. Now, the squelching sound was even louder than back then...

Will my feet get soaked?

Will I get athlete's foot?

Will I get other infections?

No, wait, I'm a healer now. I can secretly cast a healing spell and don't have to worry about athlete's foot...

Finally finishing the required laps, Garrett collapsed to the ground, ignoring the need to cool down gradually after exercise. Old Morgan waved, and Bernard came over to lift him:

"Boss, get up and walk, walk a lap! Stretch after walking, then do other training!"

"Bernard..." How could you, with your thick eyebrows and big eyes, betray me too... listening to others and not me...

Garrett sighed as he was dragged up to walk a lap, then dragged back to the edge of the training ground to sit. Old Morgan came over, pressed around his body, and instructed Bernard:

"Press down! Press down! No problem, trust me! Harder!"

"Ow—"

Garrett screamed.

Cirella sat under another parasol, drinking juice and eating snacks, cheering him on. The young silver dragon girl smiled brightly, her fingertips dancing with the light of a healing spell, showing it to him:

"Garrett, keep it up! You can make it! Your body's potential is strong. Once you unleash it, advancing to a knight will be much easier than for others!"

Hmph, she had watched Garrett advance! The aura, the intensity of absorbing elements, his body had been immersed in elements many times, far stronger than ordinary warriors!

With hard training, reaching levels 2, 3, and 4, and becoming a knight, would be very easy! Unlike ordinary people who needed to train, rest, eat, and heal, and couldn't afford to neglect any of these...

He was like those high-level magical beasts, naturally gaining strong power as they grew up, as long as they didn't slack off.

"Garrett, keep it up! I'll make you meat soup when you're done training!"

"No!"

Garrett turned his head sharply. His breath disrupted, Bernard pressed him down for stretching again, making him scream once more:

"Ahhhh—"

"Focus!"

Old Morgan stood steadily at the edge of the stretching mat, legs apart, eyes like an eagle, watching Garrett's every move, listening to his breathing:

"Your flexibility is good. Focus on pressing down, you won't get hurt. If you get distracted and think about other things, you'll have problems! Again!"

Legs together, straight, breathing adjusted, slowly pressing down. Bringing his chest, nose, and arms towards his legs while keeping them together, tightly against the stretching mat, without bending the knees at all...

Stretching tendons.

Front, side, and back stretches.

Only with absolute focus and steady breathing could the body cooperate fully for maximum stretch. If distracted, scared, or out of control, injury was more likely.

After running came flexibility exercises, after flexibility exercises came strength training. Squats, bench presses. Lifting barbells, lifting dumbbells. After strength training, there was combat training...

Garrett removed his sweat-soaked weighted vest, holding his oak staff, standing opposite Anivia. He had considered using a single-handed sword, shield, spear, and other weapons, all rejected by Archmage Carlisle:

Use the weapon you're most familiar with and close to you, one you won't forget! With your character, don't go out adventuring and forget where your weapon is!

As for sparring with Anivia, it wasn't that he wanted to train with this lady, but she was the lowest-level warrior among the Mage Tower's affiliated personnel.

Above her, Bernard was level 8, Old Morgan was level 14. Cirella, no one knew her level, and the young lady never held back, not a good sparring partner...

"Attention, I'm attacking!"

The female priest shouted, stepping forward. Her oak staff pointed forward, quickly reaching Garrett.

Garrett hurriedly raised his staff to block at an angle, but his vision blurred, and the female priest's oak staff drew a small circle, bypassing his guard range and hitting his left calf with a snap.

"Again!"

"Snap!" His left arm got hit. Fortunately, it was just a light tap, a bit of pain that quickly passed.

"Again!"

"Snap!" This time, he managed to block a couple of strikes, but a vine suddenly emerged from the ground and tripped him...

Bernard, Cirella, and even Archmage Carlisle couldn't bear to watch, covering their eyes. Garrett, you're a priest of the God of Nature! You're an eighth-level priest!

How could you be so insensitive to nature to get tripped by a vine!

"Again—"

Two minutes later, Old Morgan coughed and halted the training.

"No more sparring for now. Nordmark, master the basic staff techniques and footwork first. Alright, that's it for today. Go rest..."

Garrett, panting and leaning on his oak staff, limped to the side of the field. By the training ground, Archmage Carlisle poured a glass of strong liquor for Old Morgan, sending it over with a floating tray:

"How was it?"

"His breathing is long, and his strength is good, already beyond a level 1 warrior, nearing level 2." Old Morgan evaluated honestly:

"His recovery is strong, showing great physical potential. Reaching levels 3 and 4 shouldn't be a problem. His flexibility and balance aren't great, but with training, they should improve. As for reaction speed..."

He shook his head helplessly:

"Logically, mages have strong mental power and should have quick reaction speeds..."

Carlisle rolled his eyes silently. Indeed, mages had strong mental power, and Garrett's was exceptionally strong among his peers.

If you'd seen him simultaneously manipulating over a dozen mage hands while performing various medical detection spells, seamlessly conducting surgery, you'd have no doubts. But the problem was...

His reaction speed wasn't reflected in his physical actions! It was like his eyes saw it, but his body couldn't keep up!

"Hasn't trained in this area..."

"Indeed, train more next time?"

While they chatted, an enticing meat aroma wafted over. Old Morgan sniffed, involuntarily looking back, seeing the elf girl smiling and

approaching quickly.

Behind her, two floating trays carried two massive barrels, each over four feet high and three feet in diameter. One had flames roaring beneath, licking the bottom, the broth inside bubbling, emitting a rich meat aroma;

The other was empty, but half-filled with various herbs. The elf girl waved her hand, proudly showing them:

"Are these herbs okay? I heard that soaking in herbal broth after training helps with recovery... These are all my collected herbs. If they're good, I'll start cooking!"

Garrett, dragging himself over, caught the last sentence. He looked at the left barrel, then the right barrel, groaned, and nearly collapsed on the spot:

"Cirella, with such big barrels... are you making soup... or cooking me?"