The second morning came with pain.
The camp groaned like a wounded beast. Every bunk creaked as bodies struggled to rise. Some cursed, some whimpered. A few didn't even bother getting up just lay there staring blankly at the ceiling as if questioning their life choices.
Kalen sat up slowly, his back stiff, his shoulders burning. His uniform clung to his skin, damp with sweat from the previous night. Each movement sent a wave of ache through his muscles, reminding him of yesterday's drills the running, the pushups, the endless weight carries.
"Damn… I think my spine divorced me," Tang Yu muttered from the bunk across the aisle. He rolled out of bed and landed on his knees with a thud. "If I don't survive this, bury me with a massage coupon."
Michael snorted. "You'll need a resurrection coupon first."
"Funny. Keep talking when your legs forget how to walk." Tang Yu clutched his thighs dramatically, earning a few tired laughs from the nearby trainees. Even through the exhaustion, humor became a kind of lifeline.
Kalen smiled faintly, rubbing his sore shoulders. Despite the pain, he could feel something subtle, almost imperceptible beneath his skin. A faint hum, a rhythm that hadn't been there before. His body was changing.
The morning horn blared, cutting through the fog. Sergeant Drake's voice followed, harsh as ever. "Outside! Ten minutes. Anyone late runs until sunrise!"
Groans echoed like a choir of suffering souls.
By the time the trainees assembled, the sun had barely risen. Mist hung over the training grounds, and the air smelled of dirt and iron. Rows of weary faces stood at attention. The fatigue was obvious, yet there was something else determination, raw and stubborn.
Drake paced before them, boots crunching over gravel. "You think this is pain?" he barked. "You think this is suffering? What you feel is your body waking up! Every drop of sweat is a reminder that you've done nothing yet. You're building the vessel that will carry power one day."
He stopped before a young candidate swaying on his feet. "Tell me, what happens if weak flesh holds too much energy?"
The recruit swallowed. "It… tears apart?"
"Exactly." Drake's eyes swept the line. "Energy isn't something you hold. It's something you endure. Your flesh must become the forge, your bones the frame. Without a body strong enough, the first spark of awakening will burn you alive."
The silence that followed was heavy. Even Tang Yu didn't have a comeback.
Drake lifted his arm, signaling to the instructors. "Formation drills. Five laps. No exceptions."
The candidates groaned again, but this time there was less resistance. Somewhere in their minds, the warning had struck deep.
The next few days blurred into a rhythm of pain and routine. Dawn runs through mud, weight training, combat stances under the scorching sun, and meditation under pressure. Their bodies screamed, their lungs burned, yet slowly almost invisibly they adapted.
Each day, Kalen noticed subtle changes. His heartbeat steadied during runs. His breath synced with his steps. The soreness lingered, but recovery came quicker. His senses felt sharper sounds clearer, movements more fluid. The human body, when pushed beyond its comfort, began to evolve.
Tang Yu, on the other hand, continued his battle with reality.
"I swear the ground has a personal grudge against me," he gasped, collapsing face-first during pushups.
Leo laughed. "No, you just have a grudge against discipline."
"Discipline doesn't make my arms this heavy!"
"Neither does talent, apparently."
Tang Yu groaned louder, earning chuckles all around.
Despite his dramatics, he never quit. Even when he trembled, even when his body failed him, he kept going. Maybe that was why Kalen respected him the most.
On the seventh day, they were introduced to "Breath Alignment" a simple technique to stabilize the flow of oxygen and stimulate inner energy. It wasn't cultivation yet, but a preparation for it.
"Focus on the rhythm," the instructor said. "Inhale through your nose, exhale slowly. Let the breath travel through your limbs, your veins. Feel the warmth circulate."
At first, most failed miserably. The trainees either fell asleep or ended up hyperventilating.
But Kalen, sitting cross-legged in the open field, followed the pattern carefully. His body still ached, but his mind grew quiet. The world around him faded the noise, the fatigue, the chaos. For a fleeting moment, he felt the warmth of his breath sink deeper into his chest, spreading like a slow current.
It wasn't much. Just a pulse. But it was there.
He opened his eyes to see Michael beside him, drenched in sweat but smiling faintly. "Did you feel that too?"
Kalen nodded. "Like… the body responding?"
"Yeah. Maybe this is what they mean by awakening the foundation."
Nearby, Tang Yu had fallen asleep mid-meditation, snoring softly. The instructor sighed. "At least he's breathing."
Days stretched into two weeks. The initial chaos turned into discipline. The weak began to endure. And in the silence of exhaustion, they started understanding the meaning behind the pain.
Blood changed. Muscles tore and rebuilt stronger. Their heartbeats grew heavier, steadier. The body was learning to withstand pressure the first and most important step for any future awakener.
Even the instructors, once merciless, started nodding in approval. "They're lasting longer," one muttered. "Good. The next phase won't kill as many."
Kalen overheard that, his jaw tightening. Next phase? He didn't dare ask.
That night, after the lights went out, Kalen lay in his bunk staring at the metal ceiling. His muscles still twitched from the day's drills. Outside, the wind whispered through the camp fences, carrying faint echoes of laughter and exhaustion.
His watch flickered softly, and a quiet chime signaled the group channel opening.
"Everyone alive?" Michael's voice came first, tired but calm.
"Define alive," Tang Yu replied instantly. "If breathing counts, then barely."
Leo's chuckle followed. "You said the same thing yesterday."
"I was less dead yesterday."
"Shut up," Yu murmured, half-asleep. "You'll wake the ghosts of the weak."
"Then we can ask them for painkillers," Tang Yu shot back.
Even Kalen laughed quietly this time. It was rare real laughter, unforced. In their exhaustion, the little moments like these felt human. Real.
"Tomorrow's going to be worse," Xia said softly, her voice steady. "They're increasing the endurance drills."
"Good," Kalen answered, surprising even himself. "If it's this hard, that means it's working."
The line went silent for a moment. Then Michael spoke, thoughtful. "Feels strange, doesn't it? We came here thinking strength was about power, but all we've done is suffer."
Kalen's eyes stayed on the ceiling. "Maybe suffering is part of it. Maybe strength isn't given it's forged."
Tang Yu groaned. "Spare me your philosophical monologue, philosopher. I just want a day without cramps."
"You'll get that," Leo said dryly, "on graduation day."
"Which is when?"
"Never."
More laughter. Then, slowly, their voices faded, one by one, until only Kalen was awake. He exhaled softly, closing his eyes.
For the first time since arriving, he didn't dream of failure or fear. He dreamed of movement of his heartbeat echoing with power, his breath forming rhythm, his body like tempered steel. The pain was still there, but it didn't hurt anymore.
It felt alive.