Chapter 19: Was that demon blood or fucking roids?

Lucian pushed open the door to the gym and walked to the front desk to scan his card, the receptionist looked up, then she blinked and looked again.

"Uh... welcome."

She spoke with a somewhat dazed look on her face. Lucian paused for a moment, did she just... talk to him?

The only time this woman had actually talked to him was when he came here to register, since then, his membership had been renewing automatically and every time he came here, she didn’t even bother to look up.

Lucian however, understood it.

He had seen his reflection and although it felt weird admitting it himself, he now looked far more attractive than he did before.

It wasn’t just her, even while he was coming to the gym, more than a few girls turned to look at him, some even kept staring.

It was strange.

He knew people treated you differently if you looked good, but...

The difference was this big?

Damn.

"Uh... Thanks."

Lucian nodded politely, he still needed some time to get used to this. The receptionist kept looking at him, his card was accepted, the door unlocked, so he excused himself with a gesture and walked in.

The familiar smell of sweat, rubber mats, and metal filled his nose. Now, because of his strong senses, it affected him more than it did before, but again, his body was already getting used to it, so while it was a bit uncomfortable, it wasn’t something he couldn’t live with, at the very least, he didn’t feel like his nose was burning.

Lucian walked into the changing room and changed into his workout clothes. Then, he walked towards the bench press.

The exercise he hated the most.

There was something humiliating about struggling with the empty bar while boys who had joined last month loaded plates and laughed with friends.

Lucian placed his bag down, took out his old notebook, and stared at the last bench press entry.

20 kg × 3.

He stared at it for a long moment.

Then he looked at the bar.

The Olympic bar itself was 20 kg.

His old enemy that he struggled to lift all the time, but this time, it was going to be different, he knew it.

Lucian lay down, gripped the bar, and unracked it with confidence.

And for the first time ever—

His arms weren’t shaking, chest didn’t tighten, wrists did not bend, everything was perfect, he didn’t even feel like he was lifting something.

He brought the bar down, touched his chest, and moved it up.

Then again, again, and again, he did it twenty times before he racked the bar and stared at the ceiling with a strange look on his face.

Then, he let out a dry laugh.

"That was insulting."

He sat up and looked at the bar that had mocked him for three years. Now, it felt like a broomstick.

Lucian stood up and added weight.

60 kg.

He lay down again.

Eight reps.

Easy.

He added more.

100 kg.

Eight reps.

Still easy.

People nearby started looking. Lucian noticed it, but he did not stop.

He loaded the bar to 140 kg.

He felt the hundred kilos, so a part of him was expecting him to fail, but he went for it anyways.

He lay down, wrapped his hands around the bar, took a breath and unracked it.

Yep, definitely heavy.

He could feel it now but... it wasn’t something he couldn’t lift.

Lucian lowered it to his chest, then he moved.

"One, fuuuhh!"

He groaned.

"Two..."

Again.

"Three."

And like that, four, fifth, by the sixth, people stopped what they were doing and started watching.

"What the hell...?"

By the seventh, one guy near the dumbbell rack muttered in disbelief.

"Ackk... Eight!"

Lucian barely forced out the eighth rep and racked the bar.

140 kg.

8 reps.

He sat up slowly, his breathing was now ragged from exhaustion. For a moment, he just looked at his hands, then he looked at the notebook and... started writing.

Bench Press: 140 kg × 8.

What the fuck...

Writing it right under 20 kg felt wrong.

"Was that demon blood or fucking roids?"

He muttered out loud.

A man on a nearby bench heard him and gave him a strange look, Lucian sensed his gaze and looked back.

"Don’t worry. I am concerned too."

The man blinked, not knowing how to respond.

Lucian sighed and moved to the squat rack next. This time, he didn’t start with his last record, he started with what the previous him would have considered very, very heavy.

60 kg.

But now, it only felt like a warm-up.

100 kg was still easy.

160 kg felt like something, but still not much.

200 kg was tough but Lucian felt like he had more in him,

So he loaded 220 kg.

Lucian stood under the bar.

For a second, he remembered his old squat.

30 kg.

His legs shook under that.

But now...

He shook his head and unracked the bar.

The weight pressed down on his shoulders but his feet stayed firm.

He squatted in clean, almost perfect form.

That was the funny part.

His strength was pathetic, sure, but he had done his research, form, mind-muscle connection, he understood all that. He knew how to brace, how to move, how to keep his knees stable, how to control depth.

He knew everything, and now, his body could follow it.

One rep.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Then, he racked the bar.

220 kg.

8 perfect reps.

"Ummm... excuse me?"

That was when Lucian heard a voice.

He turned around and saw a woman standing behind him.

He recognized her in an instant. He didn’t personally know her, but he had seen her in the gym many times.

Late twenties, fit, confident, always exercised with perfect form and expensive gym clothes. She usually trained with two other women and never looked in his direction.

*Picture*

"Are you using this rack for much longer?"

She asked.

Lucian looked at the rack.

Then at the three empty racks beside them.

What the...

And he frowned.