Chapter 9: Unleashing Potential
Training, Day 1.
He started the morning early by running around the island—three laps.
From Soren's inherent mindset from his past life, the training plan Garp laid out was utterly impossible. Even an adult couldn't pull it off, let alone a ten-year-old child.
Yet he overlooked the fact that this was hardly a normal world, and he was no longer a normal person himself.
He had barely run half a lap around the island when Soren started feeling short of breath, his body gradually growing heavy.
By a lap and a half, inhaling felt like his lungs were burning with pain, and his thighs felt leaden.
With just one lap remaining, Soren's vision began to blur.
Sweat had long since clouded his eyes, his thighs felt as though they were filled with lead, and every single step was exceptionally heavy, threatening to collapse him at any moment.
Still, he did not stop; swaying, he pressed forward at a slow jog.
It was as if something terrifying were chasing relentlessly from behind, echoing endlessly in his mind: *Can't stop, can't stop, can't stop...*
"Thud."
Staggering past the rock that marked the starting point of the island road, Soren face-planted straight onto the ground.
After a moment, he twitched his shoulders, forced himself to roll over, and stared up at the Tiankong.
"I did it. Hahahaha! I actually did it. I am so damn awesome..."
Dirt mixed with sweat smeared across the boy's face, yet it failed to conceal his radiant grin.
Just like a chrysalis-bound caterpillar transforming into a moth, catching its first glimpse of the vast Tiankong.
Only after squeezing every ounce of potential out of his body did he truly comprehend just how capable Garp meant when he said "not bad."
"I ran more than three full marathons—over a hundred kilometers! And after just a tiny break like this, I feel like I can go again. Damn, could this be my cheat code?" Soren chuckled to himself in secret.
Yet, it was only years later, after laying eyes on countless monsters of kids, that he would finally understand that "not bad" simply meant... just not bad.
Soren got up, patted the dirt off his clothes, wiped his face, and prepared to head home to cook.
After the meal, carrying a bento box, he headed toward a grove in the back mountains; the remainder of his training would take place here.
"Oof, this is probably going to sting a bit."
Soren stared at the rough tree trunk before him, then glanced down at his own somewhat pale and tender hands, hesitating for a moment.
"Clatter, clatter, clatter."
"Good thing I brought cloth strips. As expected, I am brilliantly clever most of the time."
Thus, highly pleased with himself, Soren wrapped his hands in cloth strips and delivered a vicious punch straight into the tree.
"Hsss." A sharp intake of breath echoed beneath the tree as Soren clutched his left hand and squatted down. (As for why it was his left hand, it was because he had been left-handed in his past life.)
"It hurts, hurts, hurts..."
He cursed inwardly, denouncing Garp for being entirely unreliable.
Yet, this uniquely gifted body filled the boy with blind confidence, just like right now, when he once again felt like he could take on the world.
From the forest came the repeated sounds of "bang, bang, bang" striking wood, accompanied by faint, muttered curses.
Before he knew it, the light-colored cloth strips slowly soaked through with red, and the rough tree bark gradually began to split open.
"Crack." With another heavy blow landing, the gray bark peeled away, exposing the yellowish-white wood beneath.
When a person focuses entirely on something, time flies by.
The sun slowly dipped below the horizon.
"998, 999, 1000."
Completing his final push-up, Soren stood up and clapped the dust off his hands.
"It's already this late; I need to hurry home and cook. I'm starving, starving! The bento I brought today wasn't nearly enough to eat. I'll bring a double portion tomorrow—no, I feel like I'll need three..."
The boy's figure quickly vanished down the mountain path, eager to return home.
Rushing back to cook dinner, Soren pushed open the front door only to find a table already laden with prepared dishes.
Little Irene and Grandpa Doug were sitting at the dining table, waiting for him.
"Wash your hands and come eat quickly. Today's dishes were directed by Little Irene and cooked by yours truly."
Yet, faced with Grandpa Doug's greeting, Soren stood frozen in place, looking somewhat conflicted.
Little Irene ran over, her gaze locking onto his bandage-wrapped hands as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Grandpa, Soren-gege's hands are hurt, and he's bleeding a lot."
The old man immediately stood up to take a look, then turned and walked into his bedroom, returning with a bottle of black ointment.
He looked at Soren's hands, the corners of his eyes twitching slightly as a tone of reproach laced his voice.
"You child, there's no need to push yourself to this extent when working out."
The old man pulled the boy's arm, and the two sat down on stools.
"Grind your teeth; it's going to hurt in a second."
He spoke while peeling away the cloth strips wrapped around Soren's hands.
Because so much time had passed, however, the blood-soaked fabric had stuck together. When pulling away the final layer, despite his exceptionally gentle movements, it was inevitable that a bit of skin and flesh would be torn off.
Irene, standing nearby, covered her eyes as tears slowly leaked through her fingers.
Seeing this, Soren hurriedly tried to comfort them: "Grandpa, I'm fine. Go ahead and rip it off without worry. Little Irene, stop crying too! Let me tell you, my body is super tough. I'll probably be all better after a good night's sleep tomorrow, so don't worry, don't worry."
Yet, Soren's words had little effect.
Following a cry of "Soren-gege is a dummy," Little Irene spun around and ran back to her room.
"You, oh you. What am I going to do with you?"
"The medicine is applied. Don't pull stunts like this over the next few days. You'll have to handle coaxing Little Irene yourself; constantly making your little sister cry is no way to be a qualified big brother."
With that, Grandpa Doug walked over to the window, gazing out at the deep night sky, his heart stirred with endless ripples.
"The fierce drive in this kid is just like yours."
"Fris, wherever you are in the heavens, you must watch over him."
Soren walked up to Irene's door and tapped on it with his elbow.
On the walk over, he had already mapped out his strategy.
As a seasoned internet enthusiast from his past life, he understood various methods for coaxing girls to a greater or lesser degree.
For a pure and kind little girl like Irene, there was one trick that worked every single time.
Operation commences.
"Irene, Gege knows he was wrong."
Step one: Admit fault. No matter what happened, attitude comes first—let her feel your sincerity.
"Hmph," came the girl's cold scoff from inside the room.
"Gege shouldn't have gone off doing crazy things by himself without discussing it with you both, and ended up getting hurt."
Step two: Explain the reason, letting her know that you understand why she is angry, thereby deepening your own acknowledgment of the mistake.
"Gege promises that something like this won't happen again. Anything I do from now on, I'll discuss with you in advance. I promise I won't act recklessly anymore."
Footsteps of the girl getting out of bed came from inside the room.
Step three: State clearly how you will act in the future, allowing her to look toward the horizon with confidence and strengthening your credibility.
"Irene, Gege worked out for a long time today, and now I feel all dizzy. But... if Irene isn't going to eat, then I won't eat either."
Step four: Play the pity card to shift her focus and win her sympathy, transforming her mood from sorrow to concern.
With a creak, the door swung open.
"Then let's go eat quickly, Gege," the little girl said softly.
"Then do you forgive Gege?" Soren looked at her feebly (acting).
"Mm-hmm."
Step five: Obtain forgiveness. Operation successful.