The following days were a whirlwind of labor and training, with Jacob slowly becoming more attuned to his newfound strength. His mastery of the Dragon Hippo technique had granted him powers beyond what he had ever imagined, but it came with a price—a constant, gnawing sense of tension within his body, as if his muscles were always on the verge of tearing themselves apart.
The farm had become his battlefield, each task a new challenge to overcome. But the real war was within. The power he had gained was immense, yet it required complete control, a delicate balance between strength and restraint. One misstep, and it could destroy him from the inside out.
Jacob stood by the well, his hands gripping the wooden bucket. The sun was high in the sky, casting a harsh light over the farm. His shirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat, and his muscles ached from days of relentless work. But he pushed through the fatigue, determined not to show any weakness.
He could feel the eyes of Mr. Zephyr on him, always watching, always measuring. Jacob knew the old man was testing him, waiting for him to falter. But Jacob was determined not to give him the satisfaction.
As he hoisted the bucket from the well, filled to the brim with water, Jacob's mind wandered back to the technique. The Dragon Hippo's strength was legendary, but it required more than just raw power. It demanded precision, an understanding of his body's every fiber. The technique worked by making the user hyper-aware of their own muscles, down to the smallest twitch. It wasn't about brute strength—it was about control.
That control, however, was something Jacob still struggled with. Every day he could feel the technique pushing him to his limits, testing his patience and his discipline. The more he used it, the stronger he became, but the more dangerous it felt. There were moments when the tension in his body became unbearable, when he feared his muscles would snap under the pressure.
He carried the water across the farm, feeling the weight shift with each step, his muscles adjusting instinctively. His body had become a finely tuned machine, but there was always that underlying fear—a fear that one day, the power would be too much for him to handle.
As he approached the fields, Zuri emerged from the farmhouse, her eyes widening as she watched Jacob work. She had noticed the changes in him, the way he carried himself, the way he moved. He was no longer the struggling farmhand she had met just weeks ago. There was something different about him now—something more dangerous.
"You've been pushing yourself harder than ever," Zuri said, her voice soft but filled with concern.
Jacob set the bucket down, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Stronger now," he replied in his broken language, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Zuri frowned, her eyes scanning his face. "You may be stronger, but strength isn't everything, Jacob. You need to be careful."
He nodded, though the weight of her words didn't quite reach him. He knew she was right, but there was a fire inside him now, one that wouldn't easily be extinguished. He had tasted power, and it had ignited something deep within—a hunger for more.
Suddenly, a loud commotion from the stables broke the moment. The unmistakable sound of angry neighs and hooves pounding against the dirt filled the air. Jacob's heart skipped a beat. He knew that sound all too well—Royu.
Without a word, Jacob sprinted toward the stables, his feet pounding the ground as he ran. Zuri called after him, but he didn't stop. His mind was racing. He had barely managed to handle Royu the last time, and even then, it had been a struggle. But now? Now he had something more—a strength that hadn't been there before.
As Jacob reached the stables, he saw Royu thrashing wildly in the paddock, his black coat glistening with sweat, his powerful muscles rippling beneath the sunlight. The other horses had scattered, their eyes wide with fear as they tried to avoid the rampaging stallion.
Jacob didn't hesitate. He grabbed a rope from the fence and climbed over into the paddock, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight of the angry stallion didn't intimidate him the way it used to. In fact, a part of him relished the challenge.
Royu's eyes locked onto Jacob, and the horse let out a furious snort, pawing the ground aggressively. It was as if the stallion sensed the change in him, sensed that Jacob was no longer the weak farmhand who had been tossed around so easily before.
"Come on," Jacob muttered under his breath, gripping the rope tightly.
The horse charged at him, hooves thundering against the ground. But this time, Jacob was ready. His body moved instinctively, fueled by the Dragon Hippo technique. With a quick sidestep, he dodged Royu's initial rush, the rope already swinging in his hands.
In one fluid motion, Jacob threw the rope, looping it over Royu's neck. The stallion bucked wildly, trying to throw him off, but Jacob's grip held firm. He could feel the strength surging through his arms, his muscles responding to every movement.
But this wasn't like before. This time, he wasn't just using brute force. He was in control.
Royu reared back, letting out a deafening whinny, but Jacob pulled the rope tighter, using the full extent of his newfound power to hold the horse in place. His muscles strained, but there was no hesitation, no fear. The technique was working, every muscle in his body responding perfectly to the task at hand.
After what felt like an eternity, Royu finally calmed, his wild thrashing slowing to a halt. The stallion's sides heaved with exertion, and his head lowered in reluctant submission. Jacob, breathing heavily, wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling a surge of pride.
He had done it.
But as the adrenaline began to fade, a strange sensation washed over him. It wasn't the same thrill of victory he had felt before. This was something different—something unsettling. The power he had used, the strength he had felt—it wasn't just physical. It was something deeper, something that stirred within his very soul.
And it scared him.
As he led Royu back into the stable, Jacob couldn't shake the feeling that something was changing inside him, something he didn't fully understand. The Dragon Hippo technique had given him strength, but it had also opened a door—one that he wasn't sure he was ready to walk through.
Later that evening, as Jacob sat alone by the well, the events of the day replayed in his mind. The power, the control—it was exhilarating, but it came with a heavy burden. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, a constant reminder of what he had become.
Mr. Zephyr approached quietly, his steps barely audible on the grass. He stood beside Jacob, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
"You're learning quickly," Zephyr said, his voice low and thoughtful.
Jacob nodded, but didn't respond. He wasn't sure what to say. The old man had seen the change in him, seen the way he had handled Royu. But there was more to it than just strength. There was something else—a deeper conflict that Jacob couldn't quite put into words.
"You've gained power, boy," Zephyr continued, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But power isn't just about strength. It's about knowing when to use it—and when to hold back."
Jacob looked up at the old man, his mind racing with questions. But before he could ask anything, Zephyr turned and walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
As the night descended, Jacob sat in silence, the weight of his new power settling over him like a heavy shroud. He had come so far, but he knew that the path ahead would only get harder.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.