Three hours had passed, and Flora and I were busy tending to the animals. Feeding them was no small task, given the sheer number of creatures under our care. We started with the herbivores, laying out fresh greens and vegetables in neat piles. The cows mooed in appreciation, the sheep bleated softly, and even the deer pranced a little before settling down to eat.
Next were the carnivores. The lions prowled near their enclosures, tails swishing with anticipation as we rolled in large, meat-filled carts. Each piece of meat was created by Flora's abilities, perfectly balanced to mimic the taste and nutrition of real prey. "Don't rush!" Flora scolded as a tiger tried to snatch a piece early, her voice playful but firm.
Finally, it was time for the omnivores. The bears were the most fun—big, lumbering, and deceptively gentle when waiting for their meals. "One at a time, Boris," I said, patting the giant grizzly on the head as he sniffed at the bowl I was holding.
Once everyone was fed, we couldn't resist spending time with the babies. The lion cubs pounced on Flora's lap, mewing playfully as she stroked their soft fur. I found myself laughing as a bear cub tried to wrestle my leg, its strength surprising for its size.
With the animals content, we moved on to household chores. The kitchen had been left in a mess from earlier, so I got to work cleaning while Flora took on vacuum duty. As I scrubbed the counters, I could hear her humming softly to herself, a sound that always brought a strange sense of calm to me.
Atlas, on the other hand, was in his usual spot, glued to his video games. The sounds of battle and frustrated shouting filled the house as he cursed at the screen. "If you don't dodge, I swear I'll break this console!" he shouted, his tone somewhere between rage and desperation. It was amusing to watch someone as powerful as him act like an overgrown child.
Once the chores were done, I went to check on the cats, dogs, and the tortoises. Their golden houses—one for the dogs, one for the cats—were starting to look dull and in need of a fresh coat of paint. I decided to start with the doghouse.
Bracing myself, I opened the door. A split second later, chaos erupted. The dogs—all thousands of them—turned their attention to me, tails wagging furiously. I barely had time to take a step before they charged, their collective energy overwhelming.
"I knew this was coming," I muttered, as they leaped onto me with full force. I had reduced my physical power to human levels to make the experience more authentic, which meant I was easily knocked to the ground. The puppies were the most enthusiastic, licking my face and wagging their tiny tails as if they hadn't seen me in years.
It took five long minutes of struggling before I decided to boost my strength slightly, just enough to get back on my feet. Carefully, I placed each dog back on the floor, making sure they were all safe and unharmed. "Alright, everyone, sit!" I commanded.
The older dogs obeyed instantly, their discipline evident. The puppies, however, needed some coaxing. Their mothers took over, nudging and guiding them until they finally settled down. "Good," I said, smiling as I began pouring food into the bowls. Each dog had its own designated spot, and I called them by name—yes, I had named every single one of them—to come and eat.
To prevent squabbles, I used small boxes around the bowls. Only the assigned dog could access its food, ensuring fairness. It worked like a charm, and soon the sound of happy munching filled the room.
Next was the cat house, painted in shades of grey and black. As I opened the door, the cats reacted in their typical way—some ran to greet me, others lounged lazily, and a few climbed onto me without hesitation.
"Alright, alright, give me a second," I said, gently placing the climbers back down. Using my dimensional storage, I pulled out the bag of cat food Flora and I had formulated. Each portion was carefully measured, and the cats seemed to appreciate the effort, their purrs echoing softly as they ate.
I loaded all the food into my dimensional storage and headed inside, descending the stairs into the basement. At the very bottom was a door, unassuming yet brimming with potential energy. Beyond it lay another dimension—one created by Atlas specifically for our training.
Stepping through, I was greeted by the familiar expanse of the training grounds. Time didn't exist here; no matter how long we stayed, we would return to the exact moment we left. It was both a blessing and a curse—a place where we could push ourselves to the brink without ever losing precious moments in the real world.
Flora was already there, stretching her back, her arms, and her legs. The sight of her was mesmerizing, her movements fluid and purposeful. Her black hair shimmered under the artificial light of the dimension, and her figure was impossible to ignore.
I shook myself from the distraction and joined her, while Atlas—ever the perfectionist—was also warming up nearby. After thirty minutes of thorough stretching, we were ready to begin.
The dimension wasn't just a blank canvas; it was equipped with everything we needed. State-of-the-art weights, machines, and specialized zones catered to every aspect of our physical and mental training. Atlas had thought of everything.
He turned to Flora first, his voice calm but firm. "Flora, head to the machines. Focus on legs today, quad-intensive exercises."
She nodded, flashing me a quick smile before heading to the gym area. Atlas turned to me, his expression hardening. "You're with me first. Then we'll switch."
I nodded, but as Flora walked away, my eyes followed her, lingering just a second too long. She had a way of commanding attention without even trying.
A sharp slap on the back of my head brought me back to reality. "Focus," Atlas said, smirking slightly.
We moved to an open space, free of distractions. "No powers," Atlas reminded me. "We'll keep this strictly physical. Equal strength. I want to see how far your martial arts have come."
I took a deep breath, centering myself. My body shifted instinctively into a stance I had practiced countless times. My left arm extended forward, my right arm held close to my chest. My legs adjusted for balance, ready to absorb or deliver impact.
Atlas wasted no time. He attacked, his movements a blur. His speed far outpaced mine, but my reaction time—honed through relentless practice—allowed me to anticipate his strikes. Punches came from every direction; left, right, above, below, diagonal. His footwork was flawless, making it nearly impossible to predict his next move.
Our hands moved so fast they were practically invisible. I leapt back to dodge a roundhouse kick, but before I could reset, Atlas was in front of me again.
This time, I went on the offensive. My fists flew forward in quick succession, my kicks precise and deliberate. I aimed for his midsection with a right hook, but he blocked effortlessly. In the same motion, he countered with his elbow, striking the muscle of my right arm and temporarily cutting off the flow of energy. My arm hung limp at my side, useless.
Atlas pressed his advantage, landing a solid kick to my ribs. I stumbled back, but I didn't fall. My arm regained its strength, and I charged forward, feinting with a series of punches and kicks to bait him.
He didn't fall for it easily, but I managed to surprise him. Moving faster than he expected, I appeared behind him in an instant. For the first time, his eyes showed a flicker of surprise.
Good.
I threw a feint with my right hand, an afterimage of my real move. As he moved to block, I locked both arms around his head, pulling him into position for a knee strike.
But Atlas was prepared. He brought up his left arm just in time, absorbing the blow and shoving me backward.
The fight escalated. We traded blow after blow, neither of us giving an inch. I caught one of his punches, twisting his arm, but he countered by grabbing my wrist and slamming me to the ground. Before I could react, he vanished and reappeared behind me, landing a powerful kick to my ribs that sent me hurtling into a pillar.
I hit the structure hard but didn't leave so much as a scratch on its surface. Atlas had designed this dimension to withstand anything we could throw at it.
Gritting my teeth, I stood. But before I could fully recover, his arms wrapped around my neck in a chokehold. The pressure was immense, but I managed to slither out, resetting my stance.
This time, I changed tactics. My fingers shifted into a bullet-like position, focusing my energy. Atlas ascended toward me, his movements even more aggressive. I blocked a flurry of strikes: punches, kicks, elbows, even headbutts.
But his mastery was on full display. He created afterimages of himself, using them to confuse me before landing a solid blow. My frustration grew as he smiled, his calm demeanor infuriating.
I lunged, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward into a kick. He countered, grabbing my ankle and spinning me midair before slamming me into the ground.
Pinned beneath him, I struggled to escape. His strength was overwhelming, his technique flawless. No matter how hard I tried, he restrained me effortlessly, forcing me to concede.
"Enough," Atlas said, releasing me and standing.
I lay there for a moment, catching my breath. My body ached, but my spirit burned with determination. I would get stronger. I had to.
Atlas extended a hand, pulling me to my feet. "Good progress," he said. "But you still have a long way to go."
I nodded, my resolve unwavering. This was just the beginning.
The next part of my training was even more grueling. Atlas pulled a heavy metal rod from his dimensional storage and constructed a hanging bar. Without a word, he motioned for me to grab the bar, and I knew what was coming. This wasn't just about endurance; it was a test of will.
As I gripped the bar, Atlas wasted no time. The rod came down on my stomach with a sharp crack, then my shins, my legs, my back. Each strike was deliberate, brutal, calculated to push me to the edge of my limits. The pain was excruciating, but I refused to let go.
"Good," Atlas muttered under his breath. "But you're still not there yet."
The strikes continued, relentless. My vision blurred as blood seeped from my nose, ears, and mouth. My skin turned a deep crimson, veins bulging from the effort of holding myself up. My mind screamed at me to let go, to stop the agony, but my pride wouldn't allow it. I clenched my jaw and bore it.
The last rod he used was impossibly heavy—heavier than anything I had felt before. I could barely process the weight, but the pain was undeniable. It felt like my very bones were being shattered with every strike.
"What's the weight on this one?" I croaked, my voice barely audible through the blood filling my throat. My eyes burned red as I glared at Atlas, the anger fueling me to stay on that bar.
Atlas smirked, the bastard enjoying every second of my suffering. "Do you really want to know?"
"Yes," I growled, teeth clenched.
"Sixty thousand yottagramme," he said casually, as if it were nothing.
My mind reeled at the number. Sixty thousand yottagramme? That was beyond comprehension. My grip faltered for a moment, and blood dripped onto the floor below. I coughed up a mouthful, my body regenerating as fast as it was breaking.
Atlas didn't give me a moment to process. The strikes came harder, faster. My vision darkened, and I closed my eyes, trying to escape into some semblance of a happy place. But there was no escape. The only thing that existed was pain, and the sound of that rod slamming against my body again and again.
After what felt like an eternity—thirty agonizing minutes, in reality—Atlas finally stopped. I fell from the bar, collapsing onto the ground, my body trembling.
"Get up," Atlas commanded.
I glared at him, hatred boiling in my chest, but I pushed myself to my feet. This time, it wasn't just anger fueling me. It was something more—a burning determination to beat him, to surpass him, to prove myself.
Now it was time for hand-to-hand combat. Atlas wanted me to let my body naturally activate the Golden Halo without conscious effort. I stared at him, every muscle in my body coiled with tension.
"You ready to die?" I spat, my voice dripping with venom.
Atlas laughed, a deep, mocking sound. "Big talk for someone who just got bashed half to death."
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Flora. She stood silently, watching us with an intensity that sent a wave of calm through me. When our eyes met, she nodded, and that simple gesture was enough. She believed in me, and I would not let her down.
We began to circle each other, our movements slow and deliberate. Every muscle in my body burned, but I pushed the pain aside. This wasn't just a physical fight—it was a battle of wills.
I lunged first, throwing a series of rapid punches and kicks, creating afterimages to confuse him. But Atlas saw through it, ducking under my strike and delivering a lightning-fast kick to my ribs. I coughed up more blood but didn't falter.
We traded blows, each one more ferocious than the last. His strikes were brutal, but I matched him, blocking and countering with everything I had. Sweat and blood mixed on my skin, the sharp scent filling the air.
Then he found an opening. Grabbing my leg, he suplexed me into the ground with enough force to shatter my skull. Darkness crept at the edges of my vision, but I forced myself back up.
I staggered to my feet, my head down, my breath ragged. Then it happened. A surge of energy unlike anything I'd ever felt before coursed through me. My Golden Halo flared to life, its radiant glow blinding, and my eyes burned with a new power—a Crimson Halo.
Atlas's eyes widened in surprise, and then he grinned. "You finally did it," he said, his tone almost proud. "Golden Halo, naturally activated. And now... a Crimson Halo. Impressive."
I didn't respond. I leaped forward, the newfound power coursing through my veins. My strikes were faster, stronger, more precise. The room echoed with the sound of our combat, each blow reverberating like a drumbeat.
Flora's words echoed in my mind: If you believe in something, it will happen. Just believe in it more and more, and the Universe will hand it to you.
Fueled by those words, I became a blur of motion, finding gaps in Atlas's defenses and exploiting them ruthlessly. He countered with ferocity, but I was relentless.
Finally, I saw my opening. I created a shadow clone, using it to distract him as I launched a tornado kick that landed squarely against his ribs. As he faltered, I moved in, grappling him and bringing him to the ground.
I locked him in a chokehold, my legs wrapped tightly around his body. He struggled, thrashing and punching, but I held firm. My Crimson Halo burned brighter, my determination unyielding.
Atlas tapped the ground, signaling his surrender.
I released him and collapsed onto my back, every ounce of energy drained from my body.
"You did it," Atlas said after a moment, his voice hoarse.
I turned my head to look at him. "Yeah. I did."
Flora ran over, her face a mixture of pride and relief. "I knew you could do it," she said softly, kneeling beside me.
I managed a weak smile. "Thanks. I couldn't have done it without you."
As I lay there, utterly spent, a sense of accomplishment washed over me. After 183,539 matches and 2,192 days, I had finally won.
And this was just the beginning.