Before witnessing a legendary Great Sword user's strength training firsthand, Altaïr had never imagined a human could reach such a level.
And this was pure muscle training, without even considering enhancement through fighting spirit...
The bar was as thick as a duck egg and, judging by its sheen, forged from Dragonite Ore. The plates stacked at either end had bent it into a terrifying arc, as though it might snap at any moment.
Gordon, lying beneath it, showed only the slightest strain. Clearly, this weight was still far from his limit.
After all, this was only a routine workout to maintain his condition. There was no need to go overboard.
Altaïr, who was supposed to spot him, was actually more nervous than Gordon. If Mr. Gordon's hands slipped, Altaïr feared he could throw out his back trying to catch the weight and still fail to hold it...
Fortunately, Gordon completed several sets of bench presses without needing his help at all.
With one powerful push, Gordon returned the bar to its specially reinforced steel rack. As the frame creaked and groaned, he sat up, his chest muscles rippling.
"Your turn, kid. How much do you usually bench?"
Altaïr awkwardly gave him a number.
To be fair, it was by no means a light weight. His strength was not exceptional among Hunters of the same rank, but it was still above average. He was not the type to pursue raw power above all else, preferring to develop every aspect of his abilities evenly.
Gordon's disdain was plain to see. "That's all? How are you supposed to match strength with a Large Monster when you're that weak? I was lifting more than that at sixteen or seventeen."
"..."
An image immediately sprang into Altaïr's mind: a muscular, baby-faced youth wrestling a Bulldrome, then tossing a millstone around for fun.
Gordon bared his teeth in a ferocious grin. "Come on. Today, I'm going to help you break through your limits."
—--
At the breakfast table, Altaïr's hand trembled around his spoon.
Hayata had cooked the meal. At this point, Altaïr could not even have handled a frying pan. Managing not to send the spoon up his own nose was already a testament to his remarkable control.
Isis pouted.
She had gotten up that morning to find her father taking Altaïr through strength training. She had wanted to run over and join them, but her mother had stopped her and told her not to disturb them.
As a result, she had not touched the barbell all morning, and every joint in her body was itching for exercise.
For some reason, however, the two no longer seemed as stiff and awkward around each other as they had the day before. Could training together really help people bond?
Gordon appeared to be in a good mood. He devoured a plate of fried eggs at astonishing speed, drained a large bowl of porridge, and turned to Isis.
"Your mother and I still have a few days off, so we can take the two of you around the area for a couple of days. Is there anywhere you'd like to go?"
Isis blinked, then delight spread across her face.
Ever since she was little, she had looked forward to the rare occasions when her parents came home and took her somewhere, though she could count those outings on one hand.
She had long since outgrown her fondness for little day trips, but she was still happy that her father had suggested one himself.
"Where should we go?" Isis asked, instinctively looking at Altaïr.
After all, Altaïr usually made the decisions whenever they went anywhere.
A vein throbbed at Gordon's temple, but he ultimately said nothing. Everyone at the table turned to Altaïr.
Everyone except Amos. Old as he was, he preferred peace and quiet and had no intention of joining them.
Altaïr set down his spoon with some difficulty and straightened in his seat. "We don't have much time. One option near Dundorma is to head north, toward the edge of the wetlands. The wetlands should be beautiful after the snowfall.
"Or we could head out from the harbor and do some offshore fishing. Would you rather see the scenery or fish?"
"Fishing!" Isis answered without hesitation. "By the way, did Uncle Purrcival come back to Dundorma too?
"Can we invite him and Clawdia along?"
Purrcival was her father's hunting partner and Clawdia's father. A legendary Palico, he possessed astonishing strength and equally extraordinary cooking skills.
The thought of fishing and eating out on the water sounded wonderful!
"He did. He should be at home, and Clawdia went back yesterday too. They probably don't have any other plans.
"We'll stop by his place later and ask." Gordon scratched his chin.
"But if you're hoping to eat Purrcival's fish dishes, going north to the wetlands might be better than heading out to sea.
"It's winter, so it's still a little early for sea fishing. Sitting in the cold sea wind would be asking for trouble.
"The wetlands have plenty of water and a large river, so we can fish there just as easily. The weather has cleared over the last couple of days, and bundling up for the wetlands will still be much more comfortable than going out to sea.
"Most importantly, the Springnight Carp run should be starting just after the first snowfall. This is the perfect time to go!"
...
"How are you so knowledgeable about this?"
"Ahem. At my age, you tend to pick up a few hobbies."
After a brief discussion, father and daughter settled on their itinerary and decided to leave that afternoon. Hayata cheerfully went to pack the tent and the rest of their gear.
Altaïr, meanwhile, had pushed himself a little too hard that morning. He planned to go for a light jog and loosen his muscles; otherwise, the delayed soreness would be unbearable by that evening or the following day.
Just as he stepped outside, Isis caught up with him.
"Dad asked me to tell Uncle Purrcival. He lives near the harbor. Want to run over there together?"
"Sure."
Dressed in warm, casual clothes, the two were about to set off when another voice rang out from the courtyard. "Wait for me, meow! I'm coming too, meow!"
Lady Shalan ran out, dragging Sajji behind her.
"Lady Shalan, why do I have to go too, meow?"
"That's the legendary Palico, Lord Purrcival! Hee-hee-hee, don't you want to meet him, meow?"
Sajji blinked. That was true. Every Palico had heard of Purrcival.
"Then I'll go change first. You can head out, and I'll catch up in a moment, meow."
Sajji had just turned around when Lady Shalan yanked him back. "What do you need to change for? That Brute Tigrex Palico Armor is perfectly fine, meow!
"Armor is formalwear for a Hunter, and the same goes for Palicoes. That outfit is perfectly respectable, meow!"
Sajji looked down at his mascot-like Brute Tigrex Palico Armor and shook his head frantically. "This set looks too strange, meow.
"It may be fine on the hunting grounds, but we're visiting a senior... I'd better change back into my old Seregios Palico Armor, meow."
"What's wrong with you, meow? What do you mean, 'appropriate'? Does the appearance of your armor matter? Its performance is what counts, meow!"
Lady Shalan's sudden burst of anger and severe tone made Sajji flinch backward.
She planted her paws on her hips and spoke rapidly. "You're so concerned about appearances that you'd wear inferior armor just to suit your personal taste. How can you ever become a mature Palico like that, meow?
"Altaïr and the others all have High Rank armor, while your Palico armor is still Low Rank. What do you think Purrcival will think of Altaïr, meow?
"That he's a cheapskate who won't even upgrade his hunting partner's armor, meow?"
The barrage left Sajji stunned. For a moment, he could not tell whether Lady Shalan was sincerely lecturing him or simply toying with him.
Altaïr found himself wondering the same thing. Knowing Lady Shalan, however, he suspected the latter was far more likely...
"Look at this, meow!" Lady Shalan pulled a photograph from her adorable little bag. "This is Sajyan. You've heard the name, right, meow? Sajyan is Francesca's mother's Palico and a renowned fighter even among Palicoes.
"Even without Barrel Bombs, Purrcival might not be able to defeat Sajyan, meow.
"That Palico armor was made from Savage Deviljho materials. That's a powerful Monster with an 8★ Danger Rating. Just look at that design, meow!"
"Ugh... meow, meow, meow..."
"Now look at this one, meow. This is someone you know better: Pawdrick. Back then, he did not care that the right Palico armor for him looked like women's clothing, meow!
"See? He even has twin tails, meow."
"Women's clothing, meow?!"
"Exactly, meow." Lady Shalan pressed her paws solemnly against Sajji's chest. "What matters isn't how you look. It's what's in your heart, meow."
Sajji felt as though she had almost convinced him.
"Lady Shalan, do you always carry that many photographs around?" Altaïr suddenly asked.
Lady Shalan answered without thinking. "Of course, meow. If I didn't keep all this blackmail material with me, someone might find a chance to destroy it..."
She clapped both paws over her mouth.
Altaïr picked Sajji up. "Come on. Let's get this thing off you and find something more suitable before we go..."
* * *
You can also read Warhammer: Stars and Ants here on Webnovel. Thank you for reading.