The four of them looked at the baths, each one shimmering with an ethereal glow.
Zorak walked over to one and looked at the other three. "This is my territory. Walk in it, and I'll kill you," he said, revealing his sharp teeth.
Finn ignored the Vorath, as did the others; he was way too tired to care what bed was his. He glanced at the bath and saw a status alert in his vision.
**System Alert:**
Grade A- Mortal Medicinal Bath
Finn: A
Lyrian: A
Mountain Ridge: A-
Zorak: B
**System Note:**
- The longer you endure the bath, the more benefits you shall receive.
- Ideal position is to be fully submerged.
The trio looked at Zorak, who had the lowest grade. The Vorath muttered something about water and some bitch dark elf who was a pain in his ass.
Lyrian, being a dark elf himself, couldn't resist. "Maybe you just can't handle a little water, Zorak."
Finn smirked.
Mountain Ridge chuckled, "Yeah, maybe it's because you're all bark and no bite."
Zorak growled, his eyes narrowing with irritation.
Finn ignored the banter, focusing on his bath. The system had said "endure." That was a very particular word choice. He touched the liquid; it was freezing.
The other three had gone to their baths as well. Finn found a set of instructions. Apparently, it was best to be unclothed. He was too sore and tired to care about modesty. He removed his clothes and jumped into the medicinal bath.
The cold hit him like a thousand needles, each one sharper and more agonizing than the last, piercing his skin and digging into his bones. The chill was so intense it felt like shards of ice were being driven into his flesh. He found that he could keep his head underwater and still breathe, but the sensation was both surreal and excruciating. The cold penetrated deep into his muscles and bones, each second a battle against the numbing pain that threatened to consume him.
The freezing water seemed to sap his energy at first, making every second feel like an eternity. His muscles ached, his skin prickled as if being flayed alive, and his bones felt like they were encased in ice. The pain was relentless, a merciless assault on his body. But Finn's determination kept him in the bath. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the benefits he had been promised: increased efficiency, a stronger foundation, and quicker recovery.
His thoughts drifted back to the wuxia novels he had read. Enduring harsh training and environments was a common theme for achieving greatness. If those fictional characters could endure and thrive, so could he. He used their stories as a mental anchor, grounding himself in the belief that this pain was temporary, a necessary step toward power.
He noticed a faint glow surrounding his body, a sign that the medicinal properties of the bath were starting to take effect. His muscles began to feel rejuvenated, the pain in his back from the lashings lessened, and his overall fatigue started to dissipate. The cold, while still biting and unforgiving, seemed to be a conduit for something powerful coursing through his veins.
Finn closed his eyes and pushed through the pain with sheer willpower. Each second felt like a test of his resolve. The minutes stretched out, each one an eternity of agony, but he refused to give in. He imagined the cold as a refining fire, burning away weakness and forging strength. The minutes turned into an hour, and gradually, he felt his body start to acclimate to the cold. The initial shock gave way to a steady, enduring numbness, and with it, a sense of resilience he had never known.
As the two-hour mark approached, Finn was the last one still submerged. He had lasted the longest by ten minutes, pushing his limits and reaping the maximum benefits from the medicinal bath. He emerged from the water feeling invigorated, the soreness in his muscles significantly reduced, and his mind sharper.
The others looked at him with a mixture of respect and curiosity. Finn knew that this was just the beginning. The path ahead would be grueling, but he was ready to face it head-on, growing stronger with each challenge.
As they got out of the baths, the water vanished as if it had never been there. Apparently, they only got one shot at each bath. Finn felt amazing, as though he had gotten a full night's sleep. The wounds from the lashings and the exhaustion from the day's brutal training were gone. His muscles felt more relaxed, and his mind clearer.
He flexed his arms, marveling at the subtle but noticeable healing effects. The aches and pains that had plagued him just moments before were now distant memories. His thoughts turned to his siblings; he not only needed to get back, but he also needed to get back stronger. They were depending on him, and he couldn't let them down.
Lyrian stretched, his usual aloofness softened by the obvious benefits of the bath. "That was... unexpectedly refreshing," he admitted, a rare smile playing on his lips.
Mountain Ridge nodded in agreement, his massive frame exuding a sense of relief. "Feels like I could take on another run," he joked.
Even Zorak seemed slightly less irritable. He grunted, inspecting his claws. "Maybe these baths aren't so bad after all."
Finn smiled at the camaraderie that was beginning to form. Despite their differences, they were bound by their shared experiences and the trials they would face together. As they prepared for whatever came next, Finn felt a growing sense of determination. This was just the start of their journey, and he was ready to face it head-on.
Finn used the medallion to call for food, as did the others. Moments later, Derek appeared, balancing four steaming bowls of gruel. The grayish sludge looked as unappetizing as it smelled, exuding a bland aroma.
Mountain Ridge and Zorak sniffed the bowls cautiously, their expressions unchanged.
Lyrian, ever the pragmatist, took the first bite, followed by Finn. It was like a soup that tasted like plain oatmeal with no flavoring, utterly bland and uninspiring.
Before leaving, Derek remarked, "Hell week food will sustain and nourish you, nothing more."
The four exchanged weary glances, sighing before reluctantly digging into their meals. Despite the gruel's unappealing taste, Mountain Ridge and Zorak seemed the most unaffected, eating it with a steady, unbothered demeanor.
Finn ate slowly, feeling the blandness weigh on his spirit, but he kept eating, knowing he needed the sustenance. Lyrian mirrored his pace, clearly not enjoying the meal but recognizing its necessity.
After finishing their bowls, the four settled into a tense but determined silence, each preparing mentally for the next challenge that awaited them. Finn's thoughts lingered on his siblings and the promise he made to himself to return stronger. The grueling journey ahead seemed less daunting with each small victory, and he felt a flicker of hope ignite within him.