Overlord Club
Chirp—chirp—. The morning bird calls woke me.
Ugh, my head. I clutched my throbbing skull and sat up.
Passing out for real... how pathetic. I clicked my tongue at myself, then grimaced. My stomach was churning.
Whoa, even a hangover? This body... I was struck anew by just how pathetic it had been before my Limit Break.
But who carried me here? I got out of bed, grateful to whoever had done it.
Thud—thud—.
"Aleck! You're awake?"
A familiar voice came with the knock at my door.
Well, look who's still kicking. It was Kind. I'd figured he'd be dead to the world all day, but his voice sounded surprisingly fine.
I opened the door to let him in.
"Good morning! Hope you slept well."
Kind greeted me with a perfectly fresh face.
"Yeah, morning. Stomach okay?"
"Yep, I'm good. Didn't drink much anyway. Whoa! But you downed a ton too and look fine?"
"Well..."
I trailed off. Fine? My gut was roiling like crazy. But why was he so chipper? Kind really seemed to hold his liquor better than most kids his age—no hangover in sight. Without ether, I might've lost to him.
"Heard all about your heroics yesterday! Twelve takedowns including me—a solo 1-v-12 win!"
Kind's eyes sparkled as he chattered on admiringly.
"Folks who saw your feats are calling you the Wine God now! Congrats on your first epic title!"
"Oh, yeah?"
I rubbed my face and shook my head. Wine God? My conscience wouldn't let this frail body claim that.
Kind, oblivious to my misery, kept gushing excitedly.
"Even Ruslan tapped out after one bottle! You soloed twenty-two—that's a new legend in the warrior class!"
Was Kind always this chatty? I cut him off before it went on forever.
"Okay, okay. So what's up this early?"
"Ah... well."
Kind winced, glancing sideways.
"Director Monahan wants you. Said come to his office as soon as you're up."
"Monahan?"
I frowned at the unexpected news. Surely not because of last night's bender?
* * *
"Impressive indeed. Word's spreading fast. Heard the talk? The 12-to-1 man, Wine God Aleck?"
"...Embarrassing rumor."
I sighed inwardly at Monahan's words. So it was about the party.
"Haha, don't make that face. Not here to scold you. And I did give permission for drinks."
Right, he had.
Then why call me?
Monahan smiled warmly—his first genuine one at me.
"I watched your exam closely. Very impressive."
His smile lingered.
"You told me records are made to be broken. I disagreed, but you proved me wrong."
His eyes gleamed like stars.
"So keep showing me. How far can you shatter them?"
"That's my specialty."
I grinned confidently. Maybe Monahan seemed more flexible now because he was younger than in my past life—brain still pliable. His thinking felt sharper, more open than our first clash.
"I'll be watching."
Monahan chuckled, then added,
"Oh, and... training will be fun."
"...?"
I tilted my head, not getting the ominous vibe. Not yet.
* * *
Right after Monahan's summons, the new warrior-class trainees enjoyed a sweet few days of rest and prep.
"Ah, now I get what they mean by 'time flies like an arrow.'"
A newbie muttered as they gathered at the warrior-class training ground post-break.
Murmurs rose. Early birds clustered in familiar groups.
"Aleck! Good break?"
"Yeah, you too... wait, your face says it all."
Kind's skin glowed radiantly. What had he been up to?
"Long time, Aleck."
Ruslan approached mid-chat, greeting curtly.
"Yeah, been a bit."
Ruslan was still sharply edged. I bet he'd trained straight through the rest. Later confirmed: he'd stuck to his routine religiously.
"Where're your buddies?"
"Buddies? Those were survival-exam first-timers. Teammates fits better."
Tomato, to-mah-to. I smirked inwardly at his stiff reply. Textbook rigid personality.
Apparently, his broad-mantis team from the exam didn't hang with him anymore. Not a fallout—the broad-mantis elite drew their own kind, and Ruslan hated crowds, so they drifted.
"Hey, Aleck. Everyone's here. Ruslan, Kind—hi."
A soft voice slipped into our ears. Long straight hair tied back: Robed, hands behind her.
"Oh, hey! R-Robed..."
"Long time."
I gave a casual wave; Kind and Ruslan followed.
Why was Kind stuttering? I glanced—flushed cheeks. Look at that blush.
He couldn't even meet her eyes, ears red. Clearly smitten and shy.
Fair. That beauty would rattle any teen boy. Nearby trainees kept stealing glances, mostly at her face.
Even Ruslan's poker face was impressive—pure innate stoicism. Me? Veteran of every battlefield, heart technique perfected—no species charm could sway me. Ruslan? Just built different.
This guy's a freak. Quiet respect.
"Attention, everyone."
A lanky, gaunt man approached, bellowing. Antler badge: sub-instructor Bardwin, our trainer.
"I'm Bardwin, your sub-instructor from now on. Questions later. Main instructor arrives soon—line up."
Trainees snapped to formation in under a minute. Elite material, quick and crisp.
Soon, a massive figure appeared. Shockingly familiar.
No way! What're you doing here?
I scowled.
"All present. Good. I'm Instructor Norun—here till you all hit Maturity and earn warrior status."
"Pleased to meet you!"
"Looking forward to it!"
Loud welcomes for Norun (Norton in disguise). He scanned them approvingly, then locked eyes with me.
Sneer. Disguised face, but that creepy grin confirmed: Norton.
"My philosophy: Days make the decade. No skipping day one."
Tense swallows all around.
"But it's the first day—keep it light."
Cheers.
"Light: push-ups, 1,000 reps. Saw your exam—most failed my standards. Struggling against a mere 1st-instar larva shell?"
He tsked. Grim futures ahead.
"Space out evenly!"
Thirty trainees formed a perfect grid instantly.
1,000 push-ups? Too easy. Even I, weakest physique here, could do it sleeping. Hardly training.
Others didn't notice—just relieved at "light."
Ruslan and Robed sense it too. They tilted heads like me.
Boom!
Ground shook from the edge. All whipped around.
Bardwin wheeled in a cart piled with iron weights.
"Good work, Bardwin."
Norun praised, then faced us.
"These are your new lifelong accessories."
"...!"
Shock. Barbarian method.
"15 kilos each. Four per limb: 60 kilos total. Too light?"
No answers. He grinned.
"They'll get heavier over time—no worries. Treat them as body parts. Sleep with 'em, wake with 'em."
Faces hardened. Archaic brutality, but instructor's word was law.
"Line up, grab one."
Grimly, they equipped. Groans escaped.
Dread futures.
"Won't be easy," Norun advised. "But effort brings reward. You'll surpass all by end. And I believe in rewarding effort."
He scanned expressions: frowns, blanks, apathy.
"Top three monthly get fitting prizes."
"Question! What prizes?"
"Good one. Body-building phase, so elixirs mostly."
Murmurs. My eyes lit.
Sweet. Monthly elixirs? Faster Juvenile stage. Perfect.
Worth joining warrior class.
"Push-ups: 1,000—go!"
* * *
Whew.
Done. Half still going, faces ashen. 60 kilos made "easy" hell.
"Nice. Finished easy despite weak build."
Norun sidled up, smirking.
Just precise power control—technique.
"Push-ups are my jam."
"Kuhaha!"
His booming laugh drew stares.
What's so funny?
His eyes brimmed with fondness. Why so fixated? Obvious disguise to get close.
Offered discipleship days ago.
Eh, no harm. Systematic training sped my growth. Good for me.
All finished, collapsing, gasping—poor power management.
"Good work. Dismissed!"
Most sprawled starfished.
"Whoa... Aleck, not tired? How're you so chill?"
Kind sidled up, curious.
"Just... push-up form."
Vague answer. Back to dorms, I pondered dinner.
Sweated good—need nutrient-packed meal. Growing age.
Stomach growled agreement. Faster feeding, faster molt.
Lost in food fantasies—
"Whoa! Newbies working hard!"
Boisterous voice. Buff boy with slicked-up bangs entered. Thick green mantis-foreleg mark under ear: king mantis.
All eyes on him.
"Who's Aleck here?"
Straight to me.
What the? I turned, head tilted.