"Two Punches"
An ancient oak stood like a silent sentinel before them, its gnarled bark weathered by decades of storms. Morning light filtered through its canopy, dappling the forest floor in shifting patterns as Erin stared up at the impossible task before him. His knuckles still ached from yesterday's trials, the phantom pain pulsing with each heartbeat.
"Fell it," Noah's sleep-roughened voice cut through the birdsong, "with two punches."
Erin whirled, his boots kicking up damp leaves. "Are you insane? That thing's thicker than Garrett's skull!" His voice cracked across the clearing. "Nobody can—"
"I can do it with one."
The sleeping bag rustled as Noah shifted, the fabric whispering against fallen branches. Sunlight caught the gleam of one half-lidded eye peering out from the cocoon.
"Prove it then!" Erin jabbed a finger at the tree.
Noah's chuckle vibrated through the morning air. "Bet your dinner on it?"
Memories of empty stomachs and Noah's infuriating chewing sounds flashed through Erin's mind. "Hell no!" He spat into the dirt. "Not falling for that again."
Turning back to the oak, Erin rolled his shoulders. The tree's roots snaked across the forest floor like petrified veins, its trunk wider than his armspan. He raised trembling fists—
CRACK!
White-hot lightning shot up his arm as his punch connected. For three terrible heartbeats there was only ringing silence before—
"GAHHH! MOTHER OF—!" Erin collapsed to his knees, cradling his hand like a wounded animal. Tears pricked at his vision as he rocked back and forth.
From the sleeping bag came muffled snorts. The entire cocoon shook with silent laughter.
"Shut up! Just—shut your—" Erin's curses dissolved into pained hisses as he dropped into pushup position. The forest floor smelled of rotting leaves and his own sweat as he counted through gritted teeth. "Ninety-eight... ninety-nine... one hundred!"
Thinking he could do it this time,
But—
His second punch landed with a hollow thump. The oak didn't tremble. A single yellow leaf drifted down in mockery.
Noah's voice was flat as a burial stone: "Failed. Again."
Erin didn't argue. He snatched up the buckets and charged toward the river, his body moving on pure determination. The water sloshed as he hauled it back to the base, his muscles screaming with each step.
Twenty trips.
Two hundred push-ups.
Another twenty trips.
Another two hundred push-ups.
By the time he returned to the boulder, his body was a mass of trembling fatigue, but his eyes were alight with stubborn fire. He planted his hands against the rough surface and pushed.
The boulder moved—slowly at first, then with gathering momentum. His veins bulged, his teeth gritted, but he didn't stop until it thudded against the marker.
Noah watched, silent.
"Speed training next."
Erin's head snapped up. Golden light still filtered through the trees—hours of daylight remained. His cracked lips split into a grin.
"Finally."
Noah stood motionless, his sleeping bag draped over his shoulders like a ragged cloak, as he drove a wooden stake into the earth with a single, effortless push. The marker stood tall—a mere twenty feet away, yet it might as well have been miles for what Erin was about to endure.
A thick, coarse rope was wound tightly around Erin's waist, the other end knotted to a massive boulder that sat like a sleeping beast behind him. The stone's surface was rough and unyielding, its weight enough to make the very ground groan in protest.
"Don't worry," Noah said, his voice laced with deceptive calm. "The ground won't turn slope this time."
Erin let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding—Finally. Something straightforward.
He planted his feet, muscles coiling like springs. "Easy. Just drag it to the marker."
With a grunt, he took his first step.
The boulder screamed against the earth, a grating, thunderous sound that sent birds scattering from the treetops. His muscles burned instantly, his legs trembling beneath the strain. But he took another step. Then another.
"That's it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Just keep moving."
His strides quickened, his breath coming in sharp bursts. The marker inched closer—ten feet now. Five.
Then the world betrayed him.
The ground beneath his feet shifted.
It rolled backward like a treadmill, the earth itself conspiring against him. The harder he pushed, the faster it moved, undoing his progress with cruel indifference. The boulder remained stationary, an immovable anchor as the land slid endlessly beneath him.
"What the—NOAH!" Erin roared, his voice raw.
Noah stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Erin's legs became a blur. He ran like a man possessed, his muscles screaming, his lungs on fire. The sand accelerated with every desperate stride, the marker always just out of reach. His thighs burned, his calves threatening to seize. Unnatural sounds—cracks, pops, twangs—emanated from his body, as if his very sinews were rebelling.
The sun climbed higher, baking his skin, but still he ran.
If he stopped now, he's going to crash into the boulder.
If he faltered, he would lose.
So he ran.
And ran.
And ran.
Until—
"Enough."
Noah's voice cut through the haze of exhaustion. The ground slowed, then stilled.
Erin collapsed face-first into the dirt, his body a ruined, trembling wreck. His vision swam, his breath coming in ragged, wet gasps.
A bucket of icy water crashed over him, shocking him back to consciousness. He sputtered, his limbs twitching as he rolled onto his back.
Noah loomed above him, holding out the empty bucket.
"Again."
Somehow, Erin found the strength to rise. He snatched the bucket, his legs carrying him toward the river in a blur, and back to the base.
This time, he was faster.