The morning sun filtered through the treetops of the clearing, casting long golden rays across the grass still damp with the dawn dew.
Tiny droplets of water sparkled like diamonds on the leaves of the plants, reflecting the morning light in shimmering patterns.
The air was fresh and pure, filled with the scent of wet earth, green leaves, and damp wood, the characteristic smell of the forest awakening to a new day.
Lukas breathed in a steady rhythm as he repeated for the tenth time the sequence of squats Clavor had demonstrated.
Every movement was performed with the utmost care, his mind completely focused on what his body was doing.
Feet planted firmly on the ground, distributing his weight evenly. Knees aligned with his toes, never passing beyond his heels. Back straight, shoulders relaxed and pulled back. Breathing controlled, inhale while lowering, exhale while rising.
Nothing was done hastily.
His body lowered slowly, feeling the burning sensation in his thigh muscles, then rose again at the same controlled pace, exactly as his father had taught him.
Every repetition was a lesson, every movement an opportunity for improvement.
Clavor stood a few meters ahead with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression remained calm, almost unreadable, but his eyes followed every detail of his son’s movements with the precision of a master evaluating his apprentice.
For several minutes, he said absolutely nothing. He simply watched, his gaze traveling over the boy’s body, analyzing angles, posture, and muscle tension.
From time to time, he stepped forward and adjusted an almost imperceptible detail. The position of a foot that was slightly misaligned. The angle of the hips that leaned too far forward. The excessive tension in the shoulders that rose toward the ears. The tilt of the neck that compromised the alignment of the spine.
Small corrections that Lukas made immediately, absorbing every adjustment as a valuable lesson.
"That’s better." Clavor murmured, satisfied.
"Much better."
His gaze remained on his son for a few more moments, studying him with a mixture of professional assessment and paternal pride.
"You have a body that responds very well to exercise." A small smile appeared on his face, rare and genuine.
"As expected from a son of the Dmond family. Our bloodline has always been blessed with excellent physical constitution."
Lukas finished the last repetition and stood back up, the muscles in his legs trembling slightly from the effort.
He took a deep breath as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his forearm, feeling the salty liquid run down his skin.
He could feel his muscles burning in a strangely pleasant way. It was exhausting. Very exhausting. His entire body cried out for rest, every muscle fiber protesting against the unfamiliar strain.
But it was also satisfying.
For the first time in his life, he felt that he was truly taking a step toward his dream of becoming strong. It was no longer a vague wish or a childish fantasy. It was real. It was tangible. He could feel the progress in his muscles, in his breathing, in his ability to perform movements that would once have been impossible.
As he caught his breath, he noticed something curious about his own body.
Exercises that required pure strength were much easier for him than all the others. Push-ups, squats, lifting stones, and carrying heavy weights, all of it felt relatively easy, almost natural. His muscles responded with a smoothness that surprised even himself.
On the other hand, long runs, repeated jumps, and prolonged endurance exercises left him completely exhausted within just a few minutes. His breath ran short, his legs became heavy, and his heart pounded as though it were about to burst.
Tilbo’s influence truly strengthened only his physical strength. His speed, endurance, and coordination still belonged to the body of a mere five-year-old child. The creature had granted him raw power, but not the endurance to sustain it, nor the agility to wield it with precision.
After thinking for a few seconds, he raised his eyes to meet his father’s.
"Father..."
Clavor turned his attention toward him, one eyebrow slightly raised in question.
"Can I try something more difficult?"
Lukas’s violet eyes shone with anticipation, a flame of determination burning within them. He did not want to do only the basics. He wanted to challenge himself. He wanted to see how far he could go.
Clavor fell silent in thought, his eyes traveling over his son’s body with a clinical gaze. He remembered the absurd strength the boy had displayed since he was very young.
Even as a baby, he had been able to push heavy objects that children his age could not even move. At only a few years old, he could lift stones that much older children could not even drag.
After a few seconds of consideration, he nodded slowly.
"Come."
The two of them walked to the edge of the clearing, where the vegetation became denser and the trees older. There, resting upon the moss-covered ground, lay the enormous trunk of a fallen tree.
The trunk had dark bark, almost black, very different from the ordinary trees of the forest. Its surface was rough and uneven, covered with gray lichens and small plants that had taken root within its cracks. The trunk was immense, nearly two meters in diameter and more than five meters long.
Clavor placed one hand upon the wood, his fingers tracing its rough texture.
"This is a Mountain Tree."
Lukas observed it curiously, tilting his head as he studied the dark wood.
"I’ve never heard of it."
"That’s normal." Clavor smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"It grows only in mountainous regions, at high altitudes where the air is thinner. Its wood is extremely dense, the result of decades of slow growth under harsh conditions."
He tapped the trunk lightly, producing a surprisingly solid and deep sound.
"It weighs approximately five times more than an ordinary tree of the same size. A fresh trunk from a tree like this can easily weigh half a ton, perhaps even more."
"Of course, this one weighs less because it’s old."
Lukas’s eyes widened slightly, his jaw dropping just a little. Five times heavier than a normal tree. Now he understood why the trunk looked so massive, so solid, as though it were made of stone instead of wood.
Clavor then grabbed one end of the trunk, his fingers digging into the rough bark. Despite weighing hundreds of kilograms, he slowly lifted it to chest height, his muscles contracting beneath his skin from the strain. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged, thick as steel cables, veins standing out beneath his bronzed skin.
Even without using mana, his strength was terrifying. It was the result of decades of relentless training, unwavering discipline, and a body forged in the fire of constant effort.
"Lie down." He ordered calmly.
Lukas obeyed immediately, lying down on the soft grass while Clavor carefully positioned the trunk over his open hands. The immediate weight was crushing, pressing his arms against the ground.
"Hold it firmly."
"Yes." Lukas’s voice came out tense, focused.
"Now push it up."
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