The first stage of Blake’s tornt began at the foot of the mountain behind Lux’s villa. Morning mist still clung to the leaves, and birds scattered as the four of them arrived. Lux set the pace imdiately, sprinting up the incline like a man possessed. Nero followed easily, Adam charging just behind him. Blake, on the other hand, was dragged forward with no rcy.
"Run or be dragged," Adam warned.
"You’re insane!" Blake panted. "Humans were not made to run uphill before breakfast!"
"You’re not human, you’re a Daemon, the Prince of Daemon," Nero shot back.
"That makes it worse!"
Halfway up, Blake’s legs finally began to move properly—though with the gait of a dying man. His robe had been replaced by training gear Lux had personally forced onto him while he was still protesting, and now sweat clung to his skin like armor. By the ti they reached the peak, Blake collapsed face-first into the grass.
"Leave here," he gasped. "This is my grave now."
Adam kicked his side gently. "Get up. That was only warm-up."
"Warm-up?!" Blake screeched.
The second stage began in Lux’s private gym—an expansive, high-tech facility filled with glowing prana cores, enchanted weights, sparring platforms, and rune-engraved equipnt designed to push knights and mages alike past their limits.
Blake’s eyes widened in horror. "This isn’t a gym. This is a torture chamber disguised as a palace."
"Correct," Lux said smoothly, tossing him a towel. "Now pick your poison."
For four straight hours, Blake was subjected to a full-course regin:
Weighted squats under Adam’s supervision ("Bend your knees more, or I’ll add another plate.")
Endurance circuits with Lux’s blindingly fast shadow clones chasing him.
Sword drills against Nero, who refused to go easy.
Every complaint Blake voiced was t with cheerful cruelty.
"My arms are going to fall off!"
"Good," Adam grunted, lifting twice his weight nearby.
"My lungs are burning!"
"That ans you’re alive," Nero deadpanned.
"I can’t feel my legs!"
"Then you don’t need to worry about tripping," Lux added calmly.
By the third hour, Blake was a puddle of sweat, crawling across the polished floor like a man who had crossed the desert. By the fourth, he had stopped talking altogether, reduced to groans and muttered curses against all of humanity.
Finally, Lux clapped his hands, ending the session. "Enough. If we keep going, the Raven family might accuse of murder."
Blake collapsed onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. "I hate all of you. Every single one. When I beco head of the Raven family, I will outlaw exercise."
Adam snorted. "Then your family will collapse within a year."
Nero crouched beside him, handing him a bottle of cold water. "You survived. That’s worth sothing."
Blake took it with trembling hands, chugged it, and whispered hoarsely, "I will... never forgive you."
Yet beneath his dramatic theatrics, there was sothing different in his eyes—just faintly. A spark, a stubborn ember, the kind only born when one brushes against their own limits.
And though he would never admit it, not today, not tomorrow, maybe not even years from now—part of him felt alive.
°°°
By the ti they staggered out of the training hall, the sun had climbed high overhead. The air outside felt blissfully cool against their overheated bodies, and the sll of food wafting from the villa was like a divine blessing from the heavens.
Blake, half-dead and dragging his legs like a zombie, croaked, "If there isn’t roasted at waiting inside, I’m suing the Leclair family for cruel and unusual punishnt."
Adam gave him a hearty slap on the back that nearly sent him tumbling. "Don’t worry, our dear Lux takes care of his guests. You’ll live... probably."
"Alive... but traumatized," Blake muttered.
Inside the villa’s grand dining hall, the long table was already set. Gleaming silverware rested beside crystal goblets, and the aroma of roasted chicken, grilled fish, buttery bread, and fragrant soups filled the room. The cooks had clearly anticipated the boys’ ravenous appetites after morning training.
The mont the lids were lifted, Blake’s dramatic groaning ceased. His purple eyes lit up like a man who had just discovered salvation.
Without waiting for ceremony, he dove for the platter of roasted beef, carving off slices faster than anyone could blink.
"Hold on," Nero said, brows raised. "Weren’t you just saying you couldn’t move? That you were practically dead?"
Blake stuffed his mouth full, speaking through bites. "Food... is dicine... don’t question science."
Lux chuckled softly as he ladled soup into his bowl. "Amazing recovery. Truly, if hunger were an illness, Blake would be the cure."
Adam roared with laughter, grabbing a leg of chicken for himself. "I’ve never seen soone suffer so much in training, then devour food like a starved beast."
Blake glared at them between gulps. "You... monsters. You dragged to hell. The least you can do is let feast in peace."
"Feast?" Nero arched a brow, pointing at Blake’s plate. "That’s not a feast. That’s an invasion. You’ve claid half the table."
Indeed, while Adam had taken a modest plate and Nero’s servings were neat and balanced, Blake’s was a mountain of food—roast piled upon grilled fish, bread stacked high, desserts already claiming territory on one corner.
Lux, sipping calmly from his goblet, shook his head. "If the Raven family ever falls into famine, we’ll know why."
"Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Lux," Blake shot back between bites. "Not everyone can eat like a bird and stay smug about it."
Adam leaned forward with a smirk. "You know, if you trained as hard as you eat, you’d probably be among top 2 strongest among us."
Blake froze mid-bite, staring at him. Then, slowly, he sank deeper into his chair. "...I choose not to dignify that with a response."
As the al went on, their banter filled the dining hall.
Nero, for all his quiet nature, found himself laughing more than he expected. The exhaustion of training still clung to his limbs, but here, surrounded by the warmth of food and the sharper warmth of companionship, he felt lighter.
Adam shared exaggerated tales of dwarf cuisine back ho—"We cook our stew in molten iron pots, gives it flavor you humans can’t handle!"—while Lux occasionally interjected with dry, teasing remarks that made Blake sputter.
And Blake, despite complaining through every bite about being "kidnapped" into training, didn’t stop eating until his plate was wiped clean... and then quietly reached for seconds.
"You’re unbelievable," Nero said flatly as Blake reached for another slice of roasted lamb.
Blake smirked, stuffing it into his mouth.
"Survival, my dear Nero. Survival."
Lux raised his glass of fine wine, amber liquid catching the light. "To survival, then."
Adam clinked his goblet against Lux’s, then Nero’s. "And to dragging Blake out of bed again tomorrow."
Blake choked on his lamb. "What?!"
The three burst into laughter, the sound carrying warmly through the villa’s halls.
’I guess my torturous days aren’t over yet. Well, it’s fun to do this from ti to ti.’ the Prince of Daemons thought.
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