I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 96: The Conservation of Trash (4)

The human body had natural limits ingrained by instinct—a threshold that prevented it from exerting strength beyond what it could endure. However, there were moments when these limits were breached: when one must protect someone more precious than life itself, or when one's own life was on the line.

In such instances, all the body’s capabilities—muscle strength, reflexes, dynamic vision, and sensory perception—could increase by at least fivefold. Yet, this extreme power was temporary, causing severe fatigue and damage to the muscles. Moreover, such force could not be wielded at will during these life-threatening moments.

Heavenly Strength made this possible. Of course, it could not be used indefinitely. On average, it could only be sustained for about ten minutes a day. It was technically possible to extend this duration, but the body wouldn’t be able to withstand it. This made the recommended limit precisely ten minutes.

“Instructor, what exactly is Heavenly Strength?”

“They say humans exhibit their greatest strength only at the brink of death. Heavenly Strength allows you to do that anytime you want.”

Despite hearing Keter’s explanation, the four trainees were dumbfounded, not because they didn’t understand but because it was too easy to understand.

“Uh, Instructor... are you saying you’re going to push us to the brink of death to teach this?”

“You feel like you’re going to die now, don’t you? But no. You still have energy left. You’re exhausted, but not to the point of actual death.”

Keter snapped his fingers. The servants, who had been standing by, approached Luke, Anis, Taragon, and Brooks.

Click. Click.

Bracelets were fastened to their arms and legs. The four of them panicked in unison.

“Ugh, what is this? It’s so heavy!”

The servants also secured the bracelets to Keter’s limbs.

He casually spun one around his arm as he said. “Heavy? Each bracelet is only five kilograms.”

With one on each arm and leg, that added up to twenty kilograms. Although active knights could run around wearing fifty-kilogram armor, that was only when they were in peak condition. Combat was brief. Knights typically didn’t wear heavy armor except immediately before battle.

“This is madness...”

“Well then, you should better start running before your body cools down.”

Keter took the lead, and the others reluctantly began running again.

“Huff, huff... Huh?”

After three laps, Anis noticed something strange.

Thunk. Thunk!

The servants were digging into the ground with shovels, creating deep, wide holes.

What... are they going to bury us alive if we stop running?

Knowing Keter, such an idea was a possibility. A shiver ran down Anis’ spine.

Soon, by the fifteenth lap, the trainees’ pace slowed drastically. No matter how much Keter struck them, it was useless.

“Your legs won’t move, huh? Then crawl. Crawl one lap, and I will let you rest.”

The promise of rest obliterated any remaining sense of dignity. The trainees, throwing away all pretenses of nobility, began crawling across the sandy training field.

Two direct descendants of a noble family and the lieutenant commander of the Sacred Order of the Sefira—respected by one hundred fifty knights—were now pathetically crawling on the ground.

“I... I made it.”

Anis, who finished first, collapsed face-down into the dirt, gasping for breath. Luke and Taragon followed shortly after, with Brooks arriving much later.

Keter crouched down in front of them.

“Number Two: are you so exhausted that you can’t even lift a finger?”

“...Yes.”

“Feel like you couldn’t move even if your life depended on it?”

“Yes!”

“That’s not quite true, though.”

Keter gestured to the servant behind him, who handed over a jar.

Drip.

Keter poured a viscous, slippery liquid all over Anis.

“Ugh, is this... oil?”

Keter proceeded to douse Luke, Taragon, and Brooks with the same substance, grinning ominously.

“Heh heh heh. Even if I beat you to the brink of death, you wouldn’t unleash Heavenly Strength. Why? Because you’re certain I wouldn’t actually kill you. No matter who I bring, you’ll always wonder whether I will actually kill you, then feel reassured. But what if the threat isn’t a person trying to kill you?”

Flick. Flick! Whoosh.

The four, lying flat on the ground moments earlier, suddenly lifted their heads. The sound came from Keter, and it was unmistakably the sound of a match being struck. And they were covered head to toe in oil.

“Instructor, this is a joke, right? No way... haha.”

Luke’s pupils trembled violently. Yet, Keter threw the match in the air without hesitation.

Fwoosh! Whoosh!

“Ahhh!!!”

Luke, who had been on the ground, went up in flames. Just moments earlier, he had claimed he couldn’t move a finger, but now he was rolling frantically on the ground.

“I figured as much, so I poured oil on the ground too. Get up! Do you see that puddle over there? I’ve added a solution that will wash off the oil fire. If you don’t get there in time, you’ll roast alive. Ha ha ha!”

“Aaaahh!!”

Luke shot to his feet and sprinted toward the puddle with astonishing speed. Then it was Anis, Taragon, and Brooks. Seeing Keter light another match, they had already scrambled to their feet.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Flames consumed their bodies too. Having witnessed Luke’s earlier example, they didn’t scream, but they ran as if their lives depended on it.

Splash! Ssshhhh!

Luke dove into the puddle first, followed by the other three.

“Pull them out.”

The servants retrieved the four bodies floating in the water. They were unharmed—not even a burn mark. Their aura had protected them. Of course, aura wasn’t an infinite shield against fire. It only lasted until it was depleted, meaning they had to reach the puddle before it ran out, or they would be cooked alive.

Covered in dirt, scorched, and soaked, the four looked utterly pitiful. They no longer resembled nobles, let alone descendants of esteemed families. They looked like soldiers who had fled a battlefield.

Keter smiled with satisfaction.

“Amazing, isn’t it? You thought you couldn’t move, but when your life’s on the line, strength wells up. And when the problem is resolved, your body feels heavy again.”

“...”

The four couldn’t even respond. Their silence delighted Keter further.

“Finally, you’re keeping quiet. Being able to speak is proof you’re still too lively.”

“...”

Keter gestured to the servants, who approached with towels to dry the trainees.

Is it... over?

Finally, it’s over. Thank God.

Who knew such insane training could exist?

I just want a drink of water.

The four truly believed the training was over. After all, why else would they be drying them off?

Drip, drip, drip.

“...?”

Oil poured over their freshly dried bodies.

“You all managed to unleash Heavenly Strength just now. But do you know how? Your bodies simply moved on their own, didn’t they? That’s not good enough. If you feel nothing, all I’ve done is torture you. This time, focus on observing your body—especially your mind—while you unleash it.”

Flick. Whoosh.

“All right—time to run again.”

Once again, flames engulfed their bodies, and the trainees—who had looked like corpses—scrambled to their feet and began running.

The fear of fire was one of humanity’s primal terrors, second to the fear of falling. Among all forms of torture, burning was considered the most extreme.

Watching the four sprint like undead creatures, Keter muttered to himself, “They’re so dramatic. If I had been taught this way, I would have been thrilled.”

Keter only knew about Heavenly Strength because his teacher had taught him.

What these four were enduring was merely training, meticulously designed to simulate real-life combat. But Keter hadn’t learned Heavenly Strength through training—it had been forged in real battle, like scaling a sheer cliff hundreds of meters high without food or water, fighting cannibals barehanded. Lastly, Keter achieved complete mastery of Heavenly Strength in the arena, fighting an ogre with his bare hands.

The mentor who taught Keter Heavenly Strength said, “Ha! Congratulations on reaching the fifth level of Heavenly Strength, Keter! You should be proud! Out of all the inheritors of this, there aren’t even ten who have reached the fifth level, including you and me! But you're far from done. Keep striving. Aim to challenge the final twelfth level. You can do it!”

“And what level are you at now, Master?”

“Haha! I’m at level eight. Teaching you has given me hints for reaching the ninth level!”

“You beat Swordmasters, and you're only at level eight? What, if you reach the twelfth level, will you be able to kill gods or something?”

“Killing a god is achievable even at level ten!”

“You're exaggerating again. I just heard yesterday that you fought the emperor of the Samael Empire for an entire month.”

“If I hadn’t needed to take a dump, I would’ve won!”

That was Keter’s last memory of his Heavenly Strength mentor.

Ending with a toilet story, huh? That old man... I wonder if he’s still alive?

The mentor never even shared his name. After teaching Keter Heavenly Strength to perfection, he descended into the underground of Liqueur and vanished. freёnovelkiss.com

“Lord Keter, Lord Taragon seems to have fainted,” one of the servants reported as they retrieved Taragon's unconscious body from the water.

Keter examined Taragon by prying open his eyelids.

“He’s really out cold.”

Pulling a fine needle from his pouch on his waist, Keter jabbed it into the back of Taragon's neck.

“Who said you could?”

“Argh!”

Taragon flailed like a fish out of water. Nearby, Anis, on the verge of passing out, regained partial awareness.

This insane bastard...

Anis couldn’t even open his eyes, and breathing felt like an immense effort.

Keter's lively voice, however, rang out clearly in his ears.

“If you're smart, your body wouldn’t have to suffer. Now, whoever can stand up properly here will be allowed to end training for the day.”

“...!”

The trainees, like wriggling worms, began to wiggle. It was a desperate act to get up and finish this day.

Keter watched them for ten seconds and shook his head.

“Heavenly Strength forcibly removes the body's limits. So how does it do that? It’s the synergy between the mind and body. Does your heart beat because it wants to? No, it beats regardless of your intention, even while you sleep. Awakening Heavenly Strength is the opposite. You must open what is closed, find the muscles that control it, and take command. Without relying on aura, you can do it with pure willpower.”

He gave them another ten seconds.

“If you've found and opened your Heavenly Strength, you would’ve already stood up by now.”

Keter gestured to the servants, who began drying the four trainees' drenched bodies with towels.

“It’ll be better if you realize it soon. Your aura must be nearly depleted by now. Nobody's coming to save you here. Remember, you must survive on your own.”

Keter ignited them for the third time. The four trainees rose again to live. The burning figures lit up the darkening night like moths darting toward the water.

“Hah... Hah...”

Something changed—the cycle of plunging into the water, fainting, and repeating was broken. Luke, having finally escaped the water by his own strength, staggered toward Keter.

“Grrk...”

Reaching Keter’s feet, Luke's eyes rolled back as he collapsed face-first. He glanced down at Luke, who was now unconscious, before shouting at the remaining trainees.

“The first spot is taken. The two people who fail will run ten laps around the training field before returning.”

“I-it’s a race?!”

“Only one spot left?"

The determination in Anis, Taragon, and Brooks' eyes intensified. This time, they could tell Keter was not bluffing. Luke, now carried away on a stretcher by servants, confirmed it. All they had to do was reach Keter, then they could rest.

Splash!

The three emerged from the water almost simultaneously. Each step was a struggle; their legs shook as if they belonged to newborn calves.

Anis was in the lead, but only slightly.

“Huff!”

Taragon inhaled sharply, summoning his last reserves to increase his pace. The difference between their strides was negligible to the watching servants, but to Anis, it was a grave threat.

The race of snails had begun. To the trainees, each step felt like riding a sprinting horse, but to the observers, it was painfully slow.

“Ugh, my lords, help me just this once,” pleaded Brooks, who was the farthest behind.

But neither Anis nor Taragon spared him a glance.

Thud!

Having unlocked Heavenly Strength but lost his resolve, Brooks collapsed mid-way, unable to continue.

Taragon nearly caught up to Anis, close enough that they could look each other in the eye. Neither spoke—they didn’t have the strength. Yet their gazes conveyed their thoughts clearly.

Taragon, I never thought you would be running alongside me. You've improved.

Anis, I'm not the same as before. I'm sorry, but I will rest before you.

What did you just say?

Whoosh!

Taragon widened his stride, pulling ahead. Anis’ eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn’t match Taragon’s pace. If this continued, he would lose.

The gap widened. Taragon was one step ahead. If Taragon took one more step forward, he would be looking at Taragon’s back.

The moment Anis realized this, a sinister gleam appeared in his eyes.

I refuse to lose.

He couldn’t increase his stride, but he could reach out.

Anis grabbed the back of Taragon's neck.

“What?!”

The unexpected move broke Taragon’s focus, and his Heavenly Strength dissipated.

Thud!!

Taragon tumbled to the ground, looking up at Anis with tearful eyes. But Anis didn’t spare him a glance. He kept his focus on the finish line and trudged forward.

When Anis finally reached Keter, he collapsed onto his back, utterly spent.

“The second spot is taken. The third and fourth trainees will run ten laps. Start now.”

As a small mercy, Keter unlocked the bracelets on the third and fourth trainees.

“Sniffle... Sniffle...”

Still lying on the ground, Taragon sobbed quietly.

Keter crouched down and asked, “Are you upset that second place grabbed your neck?”

“Yes. If not for that, I would’ve been second!”

“Then why didn’t you prevent it?”

“...?”

“Number Two made the best choice. Knowing they couldn’t be faster, they disrupted you instead. And what did you do?”

Keter pressed a firm finger against Taragon’s cheek.

“Number Two resorted to dirty, underhanded tactics to win. But what did you do, Number Three? Nothing but let your guard down, drunk on your supposed victory.”

“...!”

“If you could go back in time, would you still let Number Two grab your neck?”

“I wouldn’t.”

Keter grabbed Taragon’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

“As long as you’re alive, there’s always another chance. If there isn’t, make one. Got it, number three?”

“Yes, sir...”

"Now run. Ten laps."

Taragon began his laps.

Keter watched him for a moment before turning his gaze to Brooks, who was comfortably sprawled on the ground, and smiled.