Chapter 54: Chapter 54: Breaking the Limit
Julian woke before dawn.
Another Saturday.
Another holiday.
But this time, he woke with the warm afterglow of victory still in his chest—the win from yesterday’s match pulsing through him like a second heartbeat.
05:00.
Outside, the world was still ink-black, the winter chill pressing against the windows.
But inside... the mission clock was ticking. Two more days before it ended. Two more days to push himself past the limit.
A quick wash.
A splash of cold water across the face.
Then straight into the private gym.
The hum of the treadmill filled the air as he started his morning grind.
Jogging: 95 / 100 KM (62 miles)
Fifteen more kilometers before the first break. His breath turned into steady clouds in the cold air, sweat prickling his skin even as the rest of the house slept.
No hesitation—onto the bench press.
Right now, forty kilograms (88.8 lbs) felt... manageable. Not light, not heavy.
But today wasn’t about "manageable."
It was about breaking through.
Sixty kilograms (132.2 lbs) clinked onto the bar. The weight felt like steel carved from a mountain.
He lay back, gripped the bar, and pushed.
One rep.
Two.
Three.
A sharp exhale as the bar hit the rack.
Five sets. Three reps each.
Bench Press: 4,600 / 5,000 KG (11,023 lbs)
A short breather. Heart hammering.
Then to squats. Thirty kilograms (66.14 lbs) resting across his shoulders, his muscles screaming as he dipped low and drove upward.
Squats: 2,640 / 3,000 KG (6,614 lbs)
Three sets. Six reps each. The burn lit fire in his thighs and calves.
Another rest.
Then the closer—stretching.
The monk stretches.
To anyone watching, his movements would look impossible—body folding and twisting into postures that should’ve torn joints apart.
But Julian held each position steady, flowing from one into the next with a growing precision. The rough edges were gone. Now, there was control.
Stretch & Core: 7 / 7 Sessions
Yesterday’s post-match cool-down had been the sixth.
Today made the seventh.
Julian’s breathing slowed, his sweat cooling on his skin.
The morning grind was done.
The mission was nearly complete.
The mission was nearly complete.
And when it was?
He’d level up again.
He could already feel it in his bones—each rep, each drop of sweat was not just a workout, it was currency. And he was saving it for the moment he’d cash in against the next opponent.
...
After the session, Julian collapsed onto the gym floor.
His chest rose and fell like a war drum slowing after battle. Sweat pooled beneath him, soaking into the mats—sharp with the metallic tang of exertion.
He sat up slowly, crossing his legs, letting his breathing steady.
Then he began to circulate his soul energy.
It flowed like a warm current through his limbs, repairing micro-tears in muscle, burning away lingering fatigue. Thirty minutes passed in that silent, meditative trance before he finally rose, ending the session.
When he stepped out, Crest was waiting in the hallway, arms folded.
"You’re really dedicated, huh," she said, eyes scanning him.
Julian didn’t answer right away. He could see it in her gaze—she’d noticed the changes.
His shoulders had broadened, cutting a sharper frame against the hallway light. His height had ticked up—180 cm exactly (5’9"). The faint outline of a six-pack was now carving its way across his abdomen.
Even his face had shifted—angles sharpening, presence deepening.
"Of course," he replied at last, voice even. "I intend to reach my dream."
Crest’s lips parted as if to say something more, but she stopped herself. For all her composure, there was a flicker in her eyes—a mix of pride and unease.
He slipped past her into his room.
The hot shower hissed to life, steam wrapping around him as he scrubbed away the salt and ache.
When he stepped out, the mirror caught him.
For a moment, Julian just stared.
The reflection staring back at him... it was becoming the man he’d been in his previous life. The same cold edges to the jaw. The same hawk-like eyes.
His fingers brushed the left side of his chin. Then the right.
Handsome, yes—but that wasn’t what made his chest tighten.
He remembered her.
The faint scent of her skin, the warmth of her touch, the quiet care she had given him.
The woman from his past life.
If she had still been alive back then...
She would never have left him to rot in that cold room.
Never would have turned her back when the sickness stole his strength.
She would have stayed.
Fought for him.
But the world had taken her first.
Julian shut the door on the memory—both in his mind and in the room.
He stepped into the hall, ready to eat.
He dropped into a chair at the dining table.
Crest was already there, ladling out a portion of pudding, the morning light cutting across her composed features.
"You really need to rest, you know," she said, setting the bowl in front of him. "You had a big game yesterday, and the first thing you do in the morning is hit the gym?"
Julian scooped a spoonful without hesitation. "Yeah, well... I need to keep my body in check. This is the season, after all."
Her gaze stayed fixed on him, weighing his words. "Should we hire a personal trainer for you?" Her tone was serious—businesslike, but edged with concern.
Julian shook his head. "Let’s wait. The scouts will come." Another spoonful vanished. "Then we’ll talk."
"Alright," she said finally. "Any plans today?"
"Nothing major. Just training and resting."
"Anything we need to do together?" he asked, brow lifting.
"No," Crest replied, her voice softening into something almost maternal. "Just... take care of your body. Tell me if something feels wrong."
Julian met her eyes for a moment longer than necessary.
There was no need for words—he could tell she was already making a silent list in her head:
things to monitor, things to prepare, things to protect him from.
What she didn’t say was that she wanted to run a full medical check on him—scour every detail, ensure the illness that had once wrecked his body wasn’t still lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike again.
But watching him now, the sharp lines of strength returning to his frame, she chose to hold her tongue.
Outside, the winter morning brightened by a fraction, the frost on the windowpane catching the light. Inside, Julian ate slowly, already planning the next stage of his training.
Two days left. He wasn’t going to waste a single heartbeat.