Death to Power
Copyright© 2025 by TheSmartOne
Chapter 7: Pain he chose
Huff ... huff ... huff...
Kaden was on his knees.
His chest heaved in erratic bursts, sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his training shirt. His lungs burned with each inhale, his body screaming in protest.
Five laps. Just five laps around the Warborn training grounds.
He had massively underestimated what that meant.
“ ... Fuck,” he muttered between gasps.
There was no time to wallow. He glanced at the countdown hovering in his vision.
A little over one hour left.
And the rest of the quest still awaited him.
Kaden forced himself to his feet. He had made a vow—to stop complaining. No matter how hard the path got, he would walk it.
Crawl if he had to.
It’s painful, yes. But this was pain he chose. And that ... that made all the difference.
“Pull-ups, then push-ups ... sit-ups after. End with the plank.”
He laid out his plan in a whisper and stepped up to the pull-up bar.
One.
Two.
Three...
Five...
Twenty—
His arms trembled. His grip slipped. His muscles screamed.
Only twenty.
Not even halfway.
Kaden’s jaw clenched. His red eyes flickered, glowing faintly, like blood swirling in a glass of water.
“Not yet.”
I’m not done.
He pushed on.
Twenty-one. Twenty-two.
Each rep was agony, but he refused to stop.
...
Not far away, someone was watching him.
Daela Warborn stood in silence, her gaze fixed on her younger brother.
Expressionless, as always. Her posture perfect. Her crimson eyes unreadable.
But inside, thoughts churned.
‘Why is he pushing himself so hard?’
‘Is he afraid of Fokay’s trials?’
‘ ... Will he hurt himself?’
She hesitated. A flicker of concern crossed her mind.
Should I stop him?
“Are you worried about the young master, my lady?”
The voice came from behind her. Her maid—short blue hair, eyes to match, and a face far too kind to belong in the Warborn estate.
“No,” Daela said, coldly.
But Sana knew her mistress.
She had served Daela since childhood. She knew how carefully she hid her concern behind that perfect mask.
“I can help him ... if you like.”
A pause.
Then—
“ ... Go.”
Sana smiled softly to herself and walked off.
...
Back on the bar, Kaden was pushing through the sixties.
Sixty-eight. Sixty-nine. Seventy.
His body hurt.
But that pain? He welcomed it.
‘It’s the price to pay to grow.’
It’s temporary. It’s a reminder I’m alive.
Kaden repeated these words again and again.
That was his coping mechanism.
Then—
“Young Master Kaden.”
A voice interrupted his thoughts.