Suddenly, Maximus heard a harsh gasp and a thud. He whipped around to see his final companion sprawled on the ground, unconscious. His body was spread-eagle, his chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths. His face was as pale as the moonlit sky, yet it still held traces of the determination he'd shown just moments ago.
Maximus halted, a jolt of surprise running through his exhausted body. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the fallen boy. He had expected the competition to end, but not in this manner.
Instructor Brunt strode over, his face as impassive as ever. He crouched down next to the boy, checking his vitals. After confirming that the boy was not in immediate danger, he signaled a couple of students on standby to take the unconscious boy to the medical ward.
Standing alone in the field, Maximus found himself the last one standing. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, a mixture of relief, shock, and a strange sense of pride swelling within him. Yet, he couldn't help but glance back at the path where the boy had been carried away, his mind echoing with respect for the stubborn resilience he had shown.
"You think that these results were good? Half of you could not even run ten laps and yet here you are standing and being all proud? Your best runner could barely keep running for two hours. What if you were on a battlefield fighting against a never-ending sea of foes? It would be either you who survives, or them! This is not good enough. In fact, this is horrible. Every day from on you have a one hour running quota at your 70% speed. Trust me, you do not want to find out what will happen if you fail to complete it." Unceremoniously yelled Instructor Brunt.
Hearing the yell, all the student who were either standing proudly or lying on the ground catching their breaths could not help but feel their hearts skipping a beat. The requirement posed by instructor might not be too challenging, but to keep doing it every day, they could not imagine it.
It is important to remember that a lot of students are children of nobles, born with silver spoons, living a lavish life without a care for anything. They have indeed practiced before, but most of those practices were very basic, after which they always received tons of praise and gifts from instructors and their parents, when in fact they did not even need to break a sweat.
With this, the first day of classes has concluded. As Max left the grounds, his body screaming in protest, Maximus didn't feel the weight of exhaustion. He felt proud to have lasted this long, even though it was simply an endurance exercise. Max understood that persevering through such challenges is only an initial step to the path that he has chosen for himself and that there is truly nothing to be proud of.
Maximus returned to his quarters, each step carrying the weight of the day's exertion. The halls of the academy were beginning to grow quiet, the echoes of the day's lessons receding into the hushed whispers of evening.
Once inside his room, he peeled off his sweat-soaked training clothes, the fabric clinging stubbornly to his tired muscles. His body protested at every move, but the anticipation of a hot shower was a powerful motivator.
As the water cascaded down his body, washing away the grime and sweat, Maximus could almost feel the day's exhaustion being drained away. The fatigue was still present, of course, but the hot water provided a brief reprieve, a soothing comfort against his aching muscles.
Refreshed, he slipped into a clean set of clothes and made his way to the dining hall. The room was a vast space, filled with long tables that stretched out under the high ceilings. The fading sunlight poured through the towering windows, casting a golden glow over the room. Despite its grandeur, the dining hall maintained an air of simplicity, which reminded Maximus of the Great Hall in Hogwarts, as depicted in the Harry Potter series.
Maximus spotted his roommate, Oliver, sitting at one of the tables. The boy looked up from his meal as Maximus approached, his face lighting up with a smile. Oliver came from a noble family and had the refined manners and bearing to match. He gestured for Maximus to sit, and the pair began to discuss their day.
Oliver's words flowed with an easy charm, reflecting his upbringing in a noble household. His cutlery was handled with grace, each bite taken with impeccable etiquette. Maximus, however, was a man of few words. He listened more than he spoke, preferring to keep his thoughts to himself.
As they walked back to their quarters, the moon had taken its position high in the night sky, its soft light casting long shadows across the academy grounds. They moved in comfortable silence, the events of the day hanging heavily in the air around them. When they reached their room, they exchanged brief goodnights before retreating to their own corners.
Just like that, days turned into a week.
The week passed quickly for Maximus. Each day he rose with the sun, attended his classes, and met the rigorous physical demands imposed by Instructor Brunt. The running sessions were grueling, but he could feel his stamina improving, his body becoming stronger and more resilient with each passing day. It was a painful process, but the pain was a reminder of his progress, a testament to his determination.
The daily endurance exercises also brought about a significant change in his classmates. They were no longer the pampered nobles who had entered the academy a week ago. They had become hardened, disciplined, more focused, their bodies and minds forged by the relentless pace of the academy.
The Battle Class became the least anticipated class for most students, due to the harsh treatment of instructor Brunt and the grueling exercises that he required everyone to complete.
In contrast, the Foundations of Magic Theory class was a challenge of a different sort. Here, brute strength and physical endurance meant little. Instead, the ability to sense and channel one's mana was paramount. At first, Maximus found it difficult to grasp the concept. But as the week progressed, he could feel something stirring within him, a subtle warmth that seemed to respond to his focus and intent.
Maximus began to understand the balance between the physical and the magical, the knight and the mage. The battle classes taught him how to feel his body and gain control over it, while the magic theory lessons taught him how to feel the intricate mana flow within him. Both were essential in their own way, and Maximus found himself enjoying the synergy.
As Maximus sat in his quarters at the end of the week, he reflected on his progress. He had learned so much in just seven days. He felt his body grow stronger, his mind sharper. He was beginning to understand what it meant to be an awakener.
The harsh training had brought out the best in his classmates as well. They had grown stronger, more confident, more disciplined. They no longer complained about the rigorous training, no longer struggled with the endurance exercises. They had become better versions of themselves.
The last week had been a transformative journey for Maximus and his classmates. They had come a long way from the pampered nobles they once were.
As Maximus lay down to sleep, he felt a sense of anticipation for the next day. The coming week promised to bring even more challenges, but Maximus was ready. He was no longer the inexperienced novice who had entered the academy a week ago.