Spread across the cold hard floor of the storage room, Ian was covered in a pool of sweat with a dirty rag stuffed into his mouth. Drool was already leaking down his throat and his eyes were moist with tears.

‘Five more repetitions to go. You can do this Ian!’

The boy closed his eyes and focused his ability on his legs. They convulsed uncontrollably as if his skin was about to boil, and every few seconds a purple mist would pulsate like a layer of clouds before dispersing back into his body. It looked like his legs were about to disappear into thin air. But despite how weird it sounded, that was exactly what was happening.

In an era where everyone was born with a unique power, Ian was blessed with a versatile ability: the ability to seamlessly convert himself into mist. Although he couldn’t use it to create a world renowned business or become a chef who served the most delicious food, the possibilities for his power were endless. He could literally become air itself and the practicality of such an ability aligned perfectly with his goal. Plus, by turning into mist, he would undoubtedly be able to escape from Cherie if she held any ill intentions. However, that was easier said than done. 

Imagine having knives pierced into every part of your body. This was the pain that Ian experienced when he attempted to convert into his gaseous form. Transforming little portions of his body was fine but on a larger scale, the pain was akin to having a hot iron melt through his skin. This was why Ian only converted his fingernails into mist during the previous fight against the thugs.

But just like anything else, rigorous training was able to gradually nullify this impairment. By rapidly switching between his gas form and human form, the molecules in his body were essentially adapting to their converted state in the same way that muscles became more flexible when stretched. It was comparable to how stretching also induced pain while allowing the muscle fibres to reform. 

At this current moment, Ian was able to fully transform both arms into mist. And right now, he was using the same training method on his legs. 

‘Alright! Four more reps! Come on boy!’

After thirty gruesome minutes the shaking finally stopped for a brief moment, but it resumed only a few seconds later. Ian let out a small helpless cry at the abrupt sensation of being burned alive. It felt like thorns dipped in acid were piercing every particle in his body.

It was already three in the afternoon and the training session had started at nine in the morning. This meant that Ian had already persevered for a full six hours without stopping. And with four more thirty minute reps to go, the hell would only end two hours later. This wasn’t even accounting for the fact that he would need to do this again tomorrow.

To put it simply, Ian was truly a terrifying child. No normal thirteen year old would be willing to go through so much torture. However, to the boy in question this was just an average obstacle in the way of his goals. Instead of crying, complaining or fleeing, he accepted the suffering as nothing more than a necessary pain, even when he was on the verge of breaking. Again and again, his legs shimmered violently while pulsating in an erratic purple glow. 

Two hours later, the suppressed screams gradually stopped. Tattered breathing filled its place. With trembling hands, Ian tore out the rag from his mouth and gasped for air. Blood flowed down his nose as he gulped down a bottle of water in one go. Ian collapsed to the concrete floor like a broken doll.

But he wasn’t done just yet.

“Now that I’ve finished stretching, let’s get to the real workout.”