MOBA 94

"More!"

Adam was training again like nothing happened. This time, he was lying on his back pressing weights—850 pounds.

The bar felt like it was going to crush his chest. His arms trembled as he forced himself to push through the burn, sweat dripping down his temples onto the bench beneath him. Every muscle fiber screamed along with his mind, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through the scorching pain.

Adam was a Level 6 Creep, which, according to the IBAA, made him five times stronger than the average human male. Still, the weight Adam was lifting was too much for someone like him—he always considered himself less than the average human male.

His shoulders shook with the effort, tendons straining against bone as he fought to complete the rep. And as soon as he reached the apex of the lift, Alfred added 2.5 pounds to each side of the bar.

"More!" Alfred commanded, his voice almost reminding Adam of Jefferson, even though they had completely different accents.

And yes, it was Alfred training him this time—and like Clementine, he showed Adam no mercy.

No mercy at all.

Alfred was holding a stick, striking Adam's stomach each time he couldn't lift the weight.

They weren't experimenting on him, but it felt like it. This endless feeling of pain, and the only reason he wasn't stopping was that he knew that he could actually end the pain if he wanted.

He could just drop the weights, unlike with the Hospital, which scorched him alive and had him restrained.

And also… this feeling of pain was different. It was as persistent, yes… but it also somewhat felt… good?

This is it, Adam. You've fully embraced your masochism. Bravo. Shut up.

"Kh!" Adam felt something next to his chest snap, and his entire arm trembled. The plates vibrating against each other echoed through the castle's private gym, but it didn't last as he recovered quickly.

But when Alfred saw that he was no longer struggling…

"More!" Alfred said, removing the 2.5s and replacing them with a pair of 5s.

Alfred said they needed to test whether Adam's regeneration was adaptive or if Adam's strength would be stagnant. As Alfred explained it to him, theoretically, Adam could endlessly lift weights—but could he actually physically grow stronger since his microtears would just turn back to normal because of his regenerative abilities?

Or… would they heal stronger?

That was what they were testing now—if his muscles would actually achieve optimized hypertrophy, if his tendons would reinforce, and if his neural wiring. He said some other things Adam didn't understand. Something about satellite cells and myofibril density, and protein synthesis rates.

Or maybe Alfred explained it to him, but Adam had already forgotten, because the only thing on his mind was to lift weights. He was also trying his best not to puke the pound of chicken they fed him this morning. The protein sat heavily in his stomach, threatening to come back up with each strained breath.

Lift. Lift. Lift. That single thought now filled his mind. Even Louis being connected to the Hospital was thrown back as he felt his vision just cloud. He'd also forgotten how long he'd been lifting. Minutes? Hours? Time had become meaningless in this marble-walled torture chamber.

"More!" Alfred once again said—no. At this point, he was almost singing. "More!" Alfred removed the weights and added a heavier one. "More! More!" And now he was speaking in French, or… was he? Maybe not?

Adam now had his eyes closed, moving like a machine. His body had found its rhythm—down, pause, up, hold. Down, pause, up, hold. The weight became secondary to the motion itself, his consciousness retreating somewhere deep inside while his muscles operated on pure instinct.

And then, finally, Alfred was not speaking anymore. Still, Adam continued to lift… and lift. The silence felt strange, but his body kept moving. And after what seemed like forever, he opened his eyes because it felt like he wasn't lifting anything anymore.

The bar felt... light. Almost weightless.

"Stop." At the same time, Alfred finally asked Adam to stop.

"Ugh… finally." Adam quickly placed the bar in place... causing the bench to screech against the rubber matting from the sudden impact.

He sat up, chest heaving, and then looked at Alfred, who had wide eyes.

"Monsieur Adam..." Alfred whispered, his usual composed demeanor cracking. "Why… haven't you tried to train before?"

"Oh, well… I…" Adam wiped his sweat with a towel, his breathing still labored.

Because you're a pussy, Adam.

"…I didn't want to get hurt."

Alfred stared at him for a long moment, then pointed behind Adam. "Look back."

And Adam saw how much weight he'd been lifting—2,400 pounds. (1088kg)

"Wha—" Adam stood up from the shock, nearly stumbling as his legs adjusted to supporting his own weight again. He looked back at Alfred in disbelief, then at the massive stack of plates loaded onto the bar. The metal groaned under its own weight.

"That's… almost a small car?" Adam became quiet after that... then breathed out, and asked, "Why did we stop?"

"That was the most we have here... because that was what Sylvie could lift back when she was just a Creep."

"She… could also lift this?" Adam was surprised by how strong Sylvie was. "No wonder she became an S-tier Hero."

Alfred, however, was trying his best to stay calm. This wasn't Sylvie's max bench press when she was a level 9 creep… but her squat. And that, added with her contributions and martial prowess, made her into an S-tier hero.

Alfred couldn't help but think what... it would make Adam.

Could it be... Adam would become the fourth X-tier hero?

Louis was right—Adam would become a monster. Alfred smiled, nodding to himself. He was now making it his dying will to make sure Adam married into the family. The Rousseau bloodline needed this kind of power, this kind of potential. And as he was lost in thought, he didn't realize Adam was calling him.

"Sir Alfred. Sir." It wasn't until Adam patted him that he snapped out of his delusions. "Are we taking a break? I was hoping I could call someone back in America, if that's possible?"

"Oh, no. Not yet…" Alfred had… a weird grin on his face as he shook his head and pointed at another machine in the gym—it was a Smith machine.

"We're just getting started, Monsieur."

***

"So… How was your training with Alfred?"

"Oh…"

Several hours later, Adam was in the dining hall with Clementine. Adam already had lobster in his mouth, and he quickly swallowed it as he looked at her.

"It was hard, but… I enjoyed it as much as my training with you."

Clementine almost choked on her wine, coughing as her cheeks flushed red.

"Are you a child? You can't just say things like that!" She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, trying to regain her composure. "Don't worry, though, we'll be training again tomorrow. There's only about a week until the next Game."

She took another sip, steadying herself. "How much did you improve? Alfred mentioned some numbers but—"

"I lifted 2,400 pounds. I think? Around there."

"Gukh!" This time, Clementine finally choked, wine spraying across the table as she pounded her chest with her fist, gasping for air.

"Ma'am!" Adam rushed around the table. "Are you okay? Should I—"

Clementine raised her hand, waving him off as she continued coughing. "I'm... I'm alright."

She stared at him as he returned to his seat, her mind racing. 2,400 pounds—that was almost as much as her… and she was a Hero.

It would seem her sister's instincts were right, she thought. Maybe while Sylvie wasn't here... she could get her hands on Adam. He was quite handsome, too, and would remain handsome for who knows how long with that healing ability.

Her eyes widened at the sudden thought. She shook her head violently. How could she even think that? About her sister's... whatever Adam was to Sylvie. But, then again… weren't they practically strangers?

Adam was right, they knew each other more.

She cleared her throat, composing herself and switching topics.

"Alfred told me you made an international call..." She paused, then winced at her own question. "Was it Grace?"

What was wrong with her tonight? Was the alcohol actually getting to her?

Adam blinked in surprise. "How… do you know about Grace?"

"You were speaking her name on the plane. Samantha too." Clementine watched his expression carefully.

Adam sighed, shaking his head. "Not them. It was a guy named Rick. I asked him to commission equipment for the Game."

"Oh. That's unnecessary. We're going to provide you equipment."

Adam shook his head firmly. "You've already helped too much."

Clementine clicked her tongue in frustration. "How about we just buy the equipment from your guy then? There are logistics to deal with if you want it delivered to another country. You could use that money to buy equipment from us instead."

She paused, a small smile playing at her lips. "And then... I also prepared a gift for you."

"A gift?"

"Something special. But you'll have to wait until tomorrow to see it." She took another sip of wine, studying his reaction over the rim of her glass.

"Trust me, you'll like it."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.