He straightened up slowly, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead. Then he lowered himself again, push-ups this time. One… two… his arms shook. By the fifth, his breathing grew uneven.
But he didn't stop.
He gritted his teeth and kept moving, ignoring the burn in his limbs, the pounding in his chest.
Each repetition felt like fire crawling through his body but he continued, his expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the floor.
'So this is what weakness feels like…' he thought, his breaths growing heavier.
'I nearly forgot what weakness actually meant in my past life. But if this is what I have, then I'll push it until it breaks. Just like I did before.'
"Y-Young Master… are you sure you're all right?" Leon asked hesitantly, stepping closer. "You shouldn't strain yourself so soon after—"
"I said don't bother me," Azael cut him off, voice calm but sharp. Not because he was cold. He was just annoyed at how weak his body was.
The knight flinched, then stepped back with a nod. He'd served under the Ignivar family for years and this was the first time the frail young master spoke with such authority.
Azael moved next to the weights. He crouched, grabbed a pair of small dumbbells, and began lifting. His arms trembling, his breath heavy. Sweat rolled down his temple.
He could feel the sting of muscle fatigue spreading fast, but strangely, he didn't feel the dizziness he expected. No throbbing pain in his mana veins. No sudden collapse.
"…Strange," he whispered between breaths. "My body hurts, but not in the way it used to… No mana backlash, no fainting… wait, why am I saying these words like I've experienced those things?"
He switched to squats next slow, controlled, determined. Every motion was deliberate, his willpower holding his body upright even as his knees wobbled.
The knights had paused their sparring entirely now, pretending to train while watching him from the corners of their eyes. Some were impressed. Some were worried.
Leon muttered quietly to another knight beside him, "He's changed. The way he moves… it's like he's a completely different person."
Azael ignored them all.
After several minutes, his body screamed for rest. His breaths turned ragged; his muscles trembled violently. He could barely stay upright.
He sank to one knee, gripping the floor as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. His shirt clung to his body, damp with sweat.
And then, he laughed softly.
"Hah… this is not bad... but it will take time."
He collapsed backward, lying flat on the cold stone floor, staring up at the high ceiling beams. His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath. The faintest smile tugged at his lips.
'This body's weak. But… it's not hopeless. I can feel that. Mana flows fine. Maybe... it got cured when I transmigrated into this body. Is that possible? Maybe it is. The Zero-level artifacts always held mysterious powers beyond anyone's thoughts.'
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of the training hall surround him. The rhythmic clashing of swords, the faint shouts of knights, the smell of sweat and iron.
'Azael Ignivar… whoever you were, I'll live as you from now on... heh.' He laughed inside. This new life was going to be more fun.
When he finally sat up again, Leon hurried to his side, offering a hand.
"Young Master, please, you should rest. You've done more than enough."
Azael looked at the hand, then stood up on his own.
"I'm fine. This much isn't enough to kill me." His voice was calm, quiet, but carrying a strange firmness that made Leon step back instinctively.
He brushed the dust from his trousers, grabbed his coat, and draped it over his shoulder.
"I'll return tomorrow. Prepare some basic weights and wooden weapons," he said casually as he walked toward the exit.
Leon blinked. "…Yes, Young Master"
The knights watched as Azael left the hall. His steps slow, steady, yet strangely purposeful.
And though his body still trembled from exhaustion, his eyes burned faintly with something new, a resolve.
---
It was already past afternoon. Azael had lunch in his room and rested for some time.
'First I need to make this body physically stronger and increase stamina. Then slowly focus on weapon and mana practice.'
While thinking about the future, he fell asleep.
The body was weak and had low stamina, so sleep took over him so fast that he didn't even realize it.
. . .
"Young Master, please wake up. Young Master."
A familiar voice woke Azael from his sleep.
He slowly opened his eyes, rubbing them with his hands.
"In an hour, Lady Arista will come back. You need to get ready to welcome her with others at House Levarin. The gathering is held by Duchess Aeliana."
Azael blinked a few times.
"Yes. I will get ready." Azael got up lazily, yawning.
"Let me help you, Young Master." Ellire moved closer to Azael, her hands brushing against his coat to undress him.
Azael flinched. 'What the—?'
Then he remembered he was a noble. It was normal for them to be dressed by servants.
Azael calmly said, "You don't have to do it." He held her smooth hand gently.
"I can do it myself," he gave her a gentle smile.
And the reaction was immediate.
Ellire blushed. Even if Azael was not very healthy, his face was still charming and handsome.
"But, Young Master—" Azael put his finger on her soft cherry-colored lips.
"Didn't I say? I will do it myself. Now go and take out a perfect outfit for me."
Ellire's blush deepened. She nodded meekly.
"As you say, Young Master."
She hurriedly pulled herself away from him and strode toward the cupboard.
'Heheh... she's cute. This will be fun,' Azael thought with a mischievous smile.