From Moving Crates to Killing Gods-Chapter 65: Second Wind

Phinyx studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "Promise me something, Allaran. Whatever this is, this magic, these abilities, don’t let them change who you are. Damian calls you a weapon, and maybe that’s what you’re becoming, but you should decide what to strike by yourself."

The unexpected depth of his statement caught me off guard. "I’m still me, Phinyx."

"Good." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Keep it that way. Now, what’s the plan for today? More speed demon antics, or are we taking it easy?"

"Actually, I want to see what constitution at level 10 means for my endurance." I said. "I’m aiming for 120 laps today, but with minimal Quickstep use. Just to see what my body can handle now."

Phinyx’s eyes widened. "That’s... ambitious. Your previous record without Quickstep was what, eighty something?"

"Eighty one." I confirmed. "But constitution hitting the threshold should make a difference. I want to see by how much."

"And if you start bleeding from your eyes again?"

"Then I’ll stop." I promised. "No more recklessness. I’m testing my limits, not breaking them this time."

He considered this, then nodded. "Alright. I’ll vibe you as long as I can, but fair warning, maintaining the energy vibes for that many laps will push me beyond my limits."

"We’ll find our limits together then." I said with a grin.

Phinyx shook his head, but returned the smile. "The things I do for you man."

We moved to the starting position, Phinyx taking his usual spot where he could maintain eye contact as I passed. I stretched, feeling the new responsiveness of my muscles, the readiness that seemed to permeate every fiber of my being.

"Ready when you are." I called.

"Positive vibes, energy vibes." Phinyx intoned, his hands making gentle pushing motions toward me. The familiar wave of his ability washed over me, adding another layer to my already heightened physical state.

I took off at a measured pace, determined not to burn out early. The first laps felt effortless, my legs moving with precision, each stride covering the right amount of ground. By lap twenty, I would have been settling into the familiar burn of strain. Instead, I felt... comfortable. Not without effort, but as if my body had found a perfect balance between energy spent and air breathed.

"How are you feeling?" Phinyx called as I passed him on lap thirty.

"Good." I replied, not even tired. "Really good, actually."

"Your running vibe is different." he observed. "More efficient. Less strain."

He was right. There was none of the usual discomfort, none of the gradual accumulation of fatigue. My muscles burned, but the sensation was distant, manageable in a way it had never been before. Constitution at level 10 wasn’t just about recovery, it changed how my body handled stress.

Lap fifty came and went. Then sixty. I maintained my pace, waiting for exhaustion to hit, but it didn’t. My breathing stayed controlled, my heart rate grew steadily. Sweat poured down my face and back, but it felt natural.

"Seventy!" Phinyx called out, his voice betraying his amazement. "You’re not slowing down!"

I wasn’t. If anything, I was finding my rhythm more complete with each circuit of the track. My body was answering me without as much strain.

Lap eighty passed, then lap ninety. I was in new territory now, beyond what I’d ever achieved without magical assistance. And still my body held, my legs pumped with steady might, my lungs drew in air and expelled it with efficiency.

Around lap ninety five, I noticed Phinyx’s vibes weakening. His face showed strain, sweat beading on his forehead as he maintained the supportive energy that had helped me get this far.

"You okay?" I asked as I reached him again.

"Pushing... my limits... too." he gasped. "Can’t... maintain... much longer."

I nodded. He’d been sustaining his ability for a while now, far longer than he normally did. "Do what you can. I’ll manage." 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

By lap one hundred, Phinyx’s vibes had faded to almost nothing. He fell against the wall, his energy depleted, but he still watched, he still counted. I was on my own now, my body was the only resource I had left.

And amazingly, it was enough. I could continue without the boost of Phinyx’s ability. My pace slowed slightly, but I kept moving, kept counting.

One hundred five. One hundred ten. My legs finally began to protest in earnest, the distant burn becoming a present reality. My heart hammered against my ribs. But the wall I expected, the complete collapse of function, wasn’t there yet.

At lap one hundred fifteen, I knew I’d reached my natural limit. My vision had begun to narrow, my form deteriorating as exhaustion made itself known. I decided, ’Just a couple more.’

"Quickstep." I whispered, the pattern forming in my mind with practiced ease. The world blurred as I covered half a lap in an instant, the spell carrying me forward when my muscles could not. I felt the familiar pressure building in my head, but it was manageable, contained.

One, two, three, four laps.

"Quickstep."

Another blur, another burst of impossible speed, and then I was crossing the finish line, my legs finally giving out. I collapsed onto the track, gasping for breath, but conscious. In control. The backlash from the careful applications of Quickstep were nothing compared to the devastation of my previous attempt.

Phinyx staggered over, looking more exhausted than I felt. "One hundred twenty." he confirmed, his voice dry. "Without turning your brain to soup this time, that’s progress."

I managed a weak laugh between gasps. "Definitely... progress."

We rested there for several minutes, both recovering from pushing our bodies to new limits. Finally, I struggled to my feet, offering Phinyx a hand up.

We were halfway to the exit when the training room door slid open, revealing Damian’s imposing figure. His white hair and beard seemed to glow under the training room’s lights, his eyes sharp as they assessed my condition.

"I see you’re functional again." he said, his voice revealing nothing about his thoughts.

"I am." I replied, straightening despite my exhaustion. "Constitution hit level 10 during recovery."

"So it seems." Damian stepped fully into the room, his gaze sweeping over both Phinyx and me. "One hundred twenty laps today. Impressive, especially without overusing your new spell."

Of course he knew. Damian seemed to know everything that happened in the spire, perhaps in all of Argent. I wondered briefly if he knew about my adventure outside the barrier as well, but his words gave no indication.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked, his tone clinical, detached.

"Tired." I admitted. "But a normal tired. Not the ’bleeding from my brain’ kind."

"Good. Because what you did before was unacceptably reckless." For the first time, a hint of emotion crept into his voice, something like anger, or perhaps concern disguised as anger. "You are too important to the citadel to risk yourself on dramatic displays of power you haven’t mastered."

I tried to answer in his tone. "I wasn’t trying to be dramatic. I was testing my limits."

"There are safer ways to test limits." Damian replied coldly. "Ways that don’t involve permanent damage to the only person that can defeat Corruptors in Argent."

Phinyx shifted uncomfortably beside me, clearly wanting to be anywhere but in the middle of this conversation. I couldn’t blame him.

"I’ll be more careful." I said, not wanting to argue further. "I’m learning to balance power with control."

Damian studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "See that you do. The wasteland isn’t getting any less dangerous while you recover from self inflicted injuries."

With that, he turned and left, his long strides carrying him swiftly from the training room. I watched him go, wondering what plans he had for me.

"Well, that wasn’t awkward at all." Phinyx muttered when the elevator door had closed.

I shook my head. "He’s not wrong. I was reckless before."

"Maybe." Phinyx conceded. "But he could try being a little less... Damian about it."

The observation drew an unexpected laugh from me, breaking the tension Damian had left in his wake. "Come on." I said. "Let’s get cleaned up, I’m starving."

As we left the training room, I couldn’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction beneath the exhaustion. One hundred twenty laps. The careful, controlled uses of Quickstep. No bleeding, no collapse, no days of unconsciousness. I was learning, adapting, growing stronger while remaining aware of my limitations.