In the mystical realm of the White Kingdom, citizens begin to awaken extraordinary magical powers - and some even twice, with enough determination. This surge of supernatural abilities unsettles the ruling class, who initiate a dark era of witch hun...
The brothers came to the arena daily, commencing their training with warm-ups and physical exercises. Of course, Albert demonstrated his strength not out of pride. Nay, he had no fear of straining his tendons, for with his regimen, one could weave ropes from the tendons of a knight that would be no less robust than those made of steel. The warm-up was necessary to prepare the mitochondria in his muscles. No exercise was more fitting for the descendants of ancient Cantarians than running. Bolivur, with a mocking smile, observed the sweaty brothers as they diligently circled the stadium, completing their tenth lap. Animated by the spirit of rivalry, they battled fiercely against their fatigue.
"Oh, it is you again! I have wonderful news for you! Horses have been invented not long ago, and you need not torment yourselves like this any longer," the dwarf greeted them cheerily.
"Dearest, horses were invented for you to compensate for the shortcomings of your short legs," Albert replied good-naturedly. Bolivur turned away, offended, thinking the knight held no respect for the Aklorians. However, this was not the case, and soon the dwarf heard more flattering remarks about his people.
"I shall reveal to you the secret of strength, brother," Albert proclaimed triumphantly, having finished his run. While the boy was still catching his breath, the knight had already begun performing push-ups on just a few fingers of one hand. But, judging by the strained veins, he did not resort to levitation.
"I am all ears," Raymond said cautiously, expecting to hear a cunning trick that would quickly help him become as strong as his brother.
"The secret of strength lies in hard work," Albert began. "Like a mountain river that grinds granite on the peaks to gain depth. Like the dwarves who staunchly and tirelessly carve their tunnels into the earth's bowels, bit by bit, never yielding to difficulties. For only through toil, brother, shall you unlock the true strength within yourself."
Albert probably was not acquainted with dialectics and could not generalize the law of transition from quantity to quality to the surrounding world. However, at the level of a simple soldier, he understood perfectly well that repetitions of exercises and continuous training were the only key to success.
"To become strong, every morning, you must begin with five hundred push-ups," the knight continued.
"You said five... tens?" the youth hesitated.
"Hundreds. Did Minna teach you to count poorly?" the knight smirked.
"I can count, just so you know, all the way up to nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine," Raymond replied.
"I shall never believe it until you recite every number to me!" Bert laughed.
Out of spite, Ray began counting aloud, loudly pronouncing each word, and stumbled around three hundred.
"Alas, if you cannot count to five hundred, you may do only three hundred push-ups, but be warned, you shall be much weaker than the younglings who dedicated more time to arithmetic."
Ray did not fancy the secret of strength, for he had not yet done five hundred push-ups in a day, a year, or his entire life. But he was no weakling either: working in the bakery from an early age, hauling sacks of flour, and helping knead the dough, he had developed a unique, peasant-like strength called endurance. So when the boy had done as many push-ups as his body allowed, Albert led him to the training dummies filled with sand. It was in their friendly company that the young apprentice was to spend the coming days.
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