Testing My Physical Limits
I started my strength training session with a light warm-up, picking up the barbell. Today, I planned to use these meticulously crafted pieces of equipment made by the artisans to precisely measure my physical capabilities. Up until now, I'd only gauged my strength by feel—swinging a wooden sword or going for runs to test my performance. Even after long training sessions, I never got tired, so I had no idea where my limits were or if I was even improving. From today onward, my goal was to quantify my physical abilities with numbers.
The first exercise was the squat—the best for engaging the most muscles and measuring overall body strength. I loaded the empty barbell onto my shoulders. The wrought iron bar pressed heavily against my traps with little give, unlike the springy bars from my previous life. It felt like a crude lump of metal bearing down on me.
I recalled the proper form: hinge at the hips, brace the core, plant my feet flat on the ground. I squatted down and stood up lightly.
"Good."
This marked the start of the real test. I began easy, pulling the largest plates from the rack and loading one on each side of the barbell. Each big plate felt like roughly 10kg by my estimate. I had no exact weight for the wrought iron bar either—just call it 20kg. All told, about 40kg total.
The squat motion was smooth, no hitches. It felt almost weightless. My body was already circulating aura automatically, reinforcing my entire frame—a natural outcome.
I didn't even need to focus on it; the energy flowed through my veins, wrapping my muscles and supporting my bones. I added more weight. 60kg. Still light. 80kg. Now it felt a bit heavy, but with a push from my legs, the bar shot up like a spring.
Thanks to the aura? Power's overflowing.
Confident, I added more plates—nearing 100kg. The pressure on my shoulders changed dramatically. I took a deep breath, built intra-abdominal pressure, then slowly pushed my hips back and squatted. My quads stretched taut, heavy load transmitting up my spine. I stood successfully without much trouble, but it squeezed my muscles.
Was this entering the tough zone? I added small plates to each side—about 5kg each, no doubt.
But then.
"Urgh…!"
The moment I shouldered the load, my legs trembled, and my body wouldn't rise. Every muscle screamed in refusal. Aura was clearly surging through me energetically, yet I couldn't stand upright.
Huh? That was weird. Aura was plentiful—boiling over inside me. I'd handled 100kg easily, but stalled at 110kg?
I racked the barbell and pondered. Why couldn't I lift more? Aura wasn't the issue. The answer came quickly.
This is my body's limit.
100kg. That seemed to be the 1RM—one-rep max—for my pure muscle strength at 15 years old. No matter how much aura amplified me, output was capped by muscle mass.
So basic physicality is king, huh.
Realizing bigger muscles meant more strength fired me up. I shouldered the barbell again. I couldn't go heavier, but 100kg was doable. If I couldn't increase load for stress, I'd ramp up reps.
One, two, three… With aura providing endless support, fatigue didn't set in. It felt like playing a game character with infinite stamina cheats.
Does this even count as training?
Doubts aside, reps piled up effortlessly. Ten, twenty, thirty… No sweat, no heat buildup. Aura was depleting, but I had margin left. At this rate, I could hit a hundred.
Forty, forty-one…
Maybe persistence would yield something, so I kept squatting. Then, around the fiftieth rep, the warm energy filling my body cut off abruptly—like a power outage.
"Huh…?"
In that instant, the 100kg barbell crushed down on my shoulders. Without aura's aid, my legs—already maxed out—buckled.
"Grk!"
They gave way, and I collapsed. Balance shattered; my torso pitched forward. The heavy barbell mangled my neck and back, plummeting toward the floor—
BOOM!
A deafening roar halted it. The floor shuddered from the impact, dust billowing. I sprawled flat, gasping raggedly. No weight on my back. Twisting my head, I saw the power rack's safety bar—bent nearly into a V—catching the barbell. I'd set it high with wrought iron in mind, just in case. Saved me from injury.
"…Nearly died."
My heart hammered wildly. Without that safety bar? My spine would've folded like the wrought iron. Chills ran down my back. I'd almost idiotically killed myself alone in training. Aura depletion was terrifying.
I clutched my shaking legs, crawled from the rack, and slumped on the bench. From now on, adjust weights based on aura consumption. Mindlessly repping max loads was suicidal.
Aura gone, tension released, crashing fatigue hit. A long-forgotten heaviness, like my body weighed tons.
"Hoo…"
But I couldn't stop. Aura limits checked; now test the flesh. I hammered the bent safety bar and barbell straightish with dumbbells. Wrought iron straightened decently. I'd order replacements. Then slashed the barbell load by more than half—not just doubting the bar's integrity post-bend, but to set it for aura-less or minimally recovering conditions. Light enough to chuck even powerless.
"Hup!"
Under half the weight, yet far heavier. One, two, three… Simple reps began.
Squats, bench press, deadlifts—the big three from my past life. Muscles screamed, lungs burned. But I pushed on. Between sets, recovering aura mended muscles. Short rests birthed liftable strength from somewhere.
This is cheating.
Aura let me digest workout volumes that'd floor normals. Endless recovery enabled more sets.
But not forever. Reps later, even aura-healed muscles hit limits—rests yielded no power. Neural fatigue? Energy depletion? Legs wobbled; grip failed.
"Hoo… That's enough for today."
I sprawled starfish on the floor. Staring blankly at the rafters, I reflected. Testing maxes revealed plate shortage. Lead time meant ordering from the forge ASAP. Remake the bent bar too. Costly, but funds remained ample.
Thus ended training, plotting next steps. Sweat-soaked, time for a bath. Body felt utterly drained, but aura let me move fine. Muscles'd recover fully by tomorrow, soreness-free. Back to my room, so thinking.
Next morning.
"Gah!"
"Young master, are you alright~?"
Rising from bed, I yelped and flopped back. Clay—now attending me post-education—rushed over worriedly.
"It's nothing. Just training."
Every inch ached like a beating. DOMS. Fingers barely twitched; full-body throbbage. Yesterday's aura recovery? Illusion. Fibers torn to absolute limits, pain doubled.
Oddly, motion consumed aura for strength. Endure pain, daily life fine.
Training effect… solid.
Pain bred odd satisfaction. Proof I'd trained hard. Proper food and rest? Muscles grow. Gym goal achieved.
Nothing scheduled; rest day. Bed-staring, I revised routine. Full-body daily? Inefficient. Next: alternate upper/lower body.
One more key: diet. No protein building blocks? Useless shredding. Vital for hypertrophy.
Grunting, I instructed Clay.
"From today, max out meat in my meals. Add two boiled eggs per serving too."
"Eggs, young master~?"
"Yeah. I'll cover costs—tell the head cook to ensure it."
I fished a silver coin from the drawer, nearly dropping it from arm ache. Added it to daily food budget. Plenty for belly-busting meat and eggs.
Clay looked puzzled but pocketed the coin, bowed, and left. Thus, serious strength training joined my routine.