For the next two hours, Garrick drilled Lennox relentlessly.
"Again."
Lennox gritted his teeth, forcing himself into motion. His body ached, his breathing grew ragged, but he refused to stop.
At first, he had barely managed to execute the Titanbone Method correctly one time out of ten tries—a frustratingly low success rate that had left him cursing under his breath. But as the training session dragged on, something began to shift.
His body, though exhausted, was learning.
His stance became firmer, his movements sharper. His breathing fell into rhythm with the strikes. The visualization of the Titanbeast in his mind's eye became clearer, more vivid, its towering form no longer flickering in and out of focus.
By the time they neared the end of the session, he could properly execute the method three times out of ten tries.
That was progress.
Painful, grueling, sweat-drenched progress.
Just as he was preparing to go for another round, Garrick's voice finally cut through the quiet sounds of exertion.
"That's enough for today."
Lennox barely held back a relieved groan as he stumbled to a halt, his arms trembling at his sides. His entire body felt like it had been put through a forge, beaten into shape by sheer exhaustion.
Finally.
All he wanted now was a shower and then a long, glorious collapse into his bed.
But then—
"Don't sleep," Garrick said.
Lennox blinked. "What?"
The warrior crossed his arms. "It's important to remain active for a few hours after training. The Titanbone Method forces your body to adapt, but if you just lie down now, you'll stiffen up, and your muscles won't absorb the benefits properly."
Lennox stared at him in disbelief. He had fought through one hundred and twenty minutes of sheer torture, and now he wasn't even allowed to rest?
Garrick, as always, remained utterly unmoved by his unspoken complaints.
Instead, the warrior stepped forward and began leading him through a warm-down routine—a series of stretches, slow breathing exercises, and controlled movements designed to ease the strain on his muscles.
As much as Lennox wanted to collapse, he followed along, biting back any groans of discomfort.
"The Titanbone Method is demanding," Garrick explained as they moved through the routine. "Your body is being molded into something stronger. But strength isn't just built through training—it's built through recovery. And recovery requires proper food."
Lennox, who had burned through a ridiculous amount of energy in the past ninety minutes, perked up at the mention of food.
"You mean you're going to cook us another meal?" he asked, already feeling his stomach growl at the thought of another one of Garrick's meals.
"Aye," Garrick said simply. "Go shower. By the time you're done, lunch will be ready."
Lennox readily agreed and then, as an afterthought, suggested, "We should have some Emberbrew Ale with it."
Garrick gave a small nod, showing no objection.
With that settled, Lennox dragged himself upstairs toward his quarters while trying his utmost to ignore the siren call of his bed. His body still ached from the relentless training, but the promise of a warm shower kept him moving.
The moment he stepped inside his bathroom and turned on the enchanted water system, steaming water cascaded down, soothing his battered muscles like a healing balm.
A long sigh of relief escaped him as he let the warmth melt away the tension in his limbs.
He had expected the Titanbone Method to be difficult, but experiencing it firsthand had shown him just how brutal warrior training could be.
Yet, despite the exhaustion, despite the burning ache in every muscle—he felt incredible.
He was already progressing.
Even if he was just at the beginning of this path, it was a start.
Lennox stayed under the water for longer than usual, savoring the warmth until the soreness in his muscles dulled to a more tolerable level. By the time he finally stepped out and dried himself off, thirty minutes had passed.
He shot a glance at the antique-looking clock on his wall.
Almost midday.
He whistled lowly to himself. Time really flew by when he was busy.
It felt like just moments ago that he had woken up and started his morning routine, and yet the day had already burned through its first half.
And in another few minutes, it would be time to open the Mystic Tavern and draw in customers.
Shaking his head, he threw on a clean set of clothes and headed downstairs.
The moment he stepped into the common room, a rich, mouthwatering aroma filled the air.
Lennox paused mid-step, inhaling deeply.
The scent of sizzling meat, perfectly seasoned and cooked to perfection, practically pulled him forward like a predator drawn to prey.
His stomach rumbled.
Garrick was really something else in the kitchen.
But instead of heading directly to the kitchen, Lennox made a quick detour behind the bar counter.
He reached for the shelves and pulled down a bottle of Emberbrew Ale, pouring two mugs full of the faintly crimson liquid.
Just as expected, the system's chime rang in his mind almost instantly.
[1 Gold Coin Deducted: Payment for Two Mugs of Emberbrew Ale.]
Lennox barely spared the message a glance. He was used to it by now.
With both mugs in hand, he finally strode toward the kitchen, ready to enjoy another one of Garrick's meals.
After all that training, he had earned it.
-----
Forty minutes later…
Lennox leaned back in his chair, stretching slightly as the last remnants of his meal settled comfortably in his stomach. He was in a damn good mood.
Of course, Garrick's incredible cooking was a big part of it. The man could probably open a restaurant and make a fortune if he ever decided to ditch the whole 'warrior-business' thing. But beyond that, Lennox was feeling something else—something deeper.
The effects of the Emberbrew Ale were far more pronounced than usual.
Normally, the ale had always strengthened his body, refining his physique in subtle, steady ways. But today, after training the Titanbone Method, it was as if his body had turned into a parched desert, greedily absorbing every sip he took like dry earth soaking up rain.
His muscles, still aching from the grueling training session, tingled with warmth, and he could feel the energy coursing through his limbs, subtly reinforcing his frame in ways he didn't fully understand yet. The synergy between training and Emberbrew Ale was undeniable.
A slow grin spread across his lips. If just a single session of Titanbone training had made such a difference, then…
Lennox's eyes flickered with anticipation.
He was on the right path.
Feeling more content than he had in a while, he turned to Garrick, giving the warrior an appreciative nod.
"Thanks. For the training. And the food."
Garrick, ever the man of few words, merely grunted in response as he began stacking the plates.
Lennox chuckled but didn't push the conversation. Instead, he stood and helped clear the table, placing the dishes in the enchanted sink to let the Mystic Tavern's magic handle the rest.
With that done, he and Garrick headed to the common room.
As they walked, Lennox glanced sideways at the warrior. "So, any advice on how I should keep up with my training?"
Garrick didn't hesitate. "Be consistent."
Lennox blinked. "That's it?"
Garrick gave him a sidelong glance before adding, "Don't rush. Strength isn't built in a day. Follow the method. Let your body adapt."
Simple, but solid advice.
Lennox exhaled, nodding. Slow and steady. He could work with that.
Just as he was about to ask something else, Garrick walked over to a rolled-up mat, picked it up, and spread it beside the bar counter. Then, without another word, he lowered himself into a cross-legged position, back straight, hands resting on his knees.
Within seconds, his breathing slowed into an unfamiliar rhythm, one that felt… controlled, precise.
Lennox raised a brow.
This was another habit he had noticed about Garrick over the past month.
Every time before the tavern opened, Garrick would find an unoccupied corner, settle into this meditative pose, and remain completely still—silent, unmoving, almost as if he wasn't even there.
It had taken Lennox weeks to realize that, despite his apparent stillness, Garrick was always the first to react to anything unusual in the tavern—second only to the system itself.
Whatever he was doing… it wasn't just normal meditation.
Lennox shook his head, deciding not to overthink it for now. Instead, he turned toward the clock.
Already close to one.
Time to open up.
-----