When pushing a body's physical limits through intense training or battle, the body inevitably rebels against the strain.
Muscles would scream in protest, fibers tearing microscopically with each grueling contraction.
It was a brutal process that tested the boundaries of endurance.
In the case of Northern's clone—a soulless construct beholden to its creator's will, it moved and struck without any corporeal awareness of its own suffering.
No lactic acid buildup to dull reflexes. No shuddering spasms wracking limbs pushed beyond capacity.
It functioned as a cold, mechanical extension of Northern's consciousness; a ruthless weapon devoid of self-preservation instincts.
Despite the clone's indifference to sensory input, the biological stresses remained inescapable facts of harsh laws that bound a human's physical body.
