Inside the private gym, Terrence jogged on the treadmill, eyes focused on the massive 100-inch TV mounted to the wall.
A music video played with a heavy beat, and fast rhythm. But it wasn't the song that kept his attention. The screen flashed with dancers, all moves and exposed skin.
He wasn't about to pretend it didn't get his blood moving. Just not in the way cardio was supposed to.
"Inhale… Exhale…" He kept his breathing steady. His form stayed solid, even though it was his first run in a long time.
Normally, he wouldn't have adjusted this fast.
Even as a below-average Manaborn in his past life, he was still an official soldier who endured brutal training; sleepless drills, live combat tests, and survival missions that killed most trainee.
If his body reached even a decent condition, not even the country's best soldiers could keep up with him in hand to hand combat.
And when it came to weapons, he knew his way around them too. Low-ranking soldiers like him had to rely on long-range mana-gear to make up for their weaker abilities.
"Now I need to change the timing," he muttered, transitioning into a controlled breathing pattern.
'Impulse Breathing'
A standard military technique that focused on timed inhaling and exhaling.
It helped expand lung capacity, slow down the heart rate, and push the body past its usual limits.
Despite knowing more advanced breathing techniques, he stuck with this one. His body and foundation were still too weak to handle anything more demanding.
But that alone was not enough.
Right now, he was also inhaling the nearly non-existent mana in the air and circulating it through his body .
He could feel the particles was about three thousand times thinner than what he was used to. Progress in his abilities would take just as long.
Still, it was more than enough to bring his body up to the level of an average male in a couple of days.
'Time to rest.' He slowed his pace, making sure his body adjusted gradually. He knew a sudden stop would leave him dizzy.
Once he finished his stamina training, he grabbed the dumbbells. Five pounds in each hand, and moved to the next set.
Even that small weight was heavy, his arms shaking with each rep. It was a sign of how weak his current body was.
Still, he pushed through. By using Impulse Breathing, he managed to send more oxygen to his biceps and surrounding muscles, allowing him to prolong the set.
He didn't stop until he physically couldn't lift the dumbbells anymore.
An hour passed just like that. He found himself panting, sitting on a bench with his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling—trying to keep the blood from rushing out of his head too fast.
The glass door opened, revealing Effie still in her loose tank top, carrying another tray. It has almond milk and homemade chocolate chips cookies.
"I brought you some snacks," she said, setting the tray on the table.
"Thanks," He expected her to leave after that, but then he felt something brush against his hair. It was her wiping off the sweat.
"Aunt Effie, you don't need to do that," he objected, a bit surprised.
She smiled warmly, her hand lingering a moment longer. "It's not good to let your sweat dry on your clothes," she responded, her tone gentle. "Turn around. Let me wipe your back."
Her voice was soothing, tender, and he found himself obeying without thinking.
The movement of her hands was gentle, almost as if tracing the tension in his back muscles.
A strange mix of relief and something deeper stirred inside him—something he couldn't control.
He wanted to ask why she was being so caring.
There was no man who wouldn't be captivated by someone like her. At this point, she was just asking for trouble.
Being his aunt didn't feel like a valid reason, especially since their age difference was only ten years.
As for her appearance, she looked even younger than him. Effie had always taken care of herself, but it was the kindness in her actions that made her look more attractive.
But he hesitated.
If she said it was all a misunderstanding, it would be awkward.
And if she admitted it wasn't, he knew he wouldn't be able to control himself. He would want nothing more than to make her his.
But that would mean betraying his uncle—the one blood relative who had always shown patience and taken care of him.
Just thinking about it made him feel like an ungrateful piece of shit.
He closed his eyes, forcing the thought away. He would never cross that line of depravity.
Then a soft, wet sensation touched his back, making him take back those words.
'Did she just kiss me?'
His heart raced. He wanted to check but couldn't bring himself to. A few seconds later, the sensation was gone.
When he turned around, she acted like nothing happened.
'So I was just imagining things,' he thought, blaming his own dirty mind for making up scenarios.
'Maybe it was just her soft fingers,'
"I should go now, I need to get ready before heading to the store," she stood up. For some reason, her cheeks flushed pink, and she was visibly sweating.
She walked away without waiting for him to lift his head and see her face, as if she were trying to hide it.
Meanwhile, Terrence was still in a daze, close to losing his sense of morality.
'Damn it. I need to focus!' Shaking off the thought, he turned his attention to the snack in front of him.
As he took a bite, he was immediately shocked by how delicious it was.
The chocolate chips melted perfectly in his mouth, sweet and warm, with just the right amount of crunch. He never expected something so simple to taste this good.
She must've put a lot of effort into making it just right for him.
Unfortunately, even after finishing everything, he still didn't feel full.
'I need more.'