"Pull-ups?"
"What? You don't find it believable?" Aurelian asked, trying to control the slow smirk forming on his face.
"Of course I do!" Lysander said ironically. "I believe doing some pull-ups gave you the strength to smash the ribs of a Tier IV beast from more than ten feet away. I also believe the sun is made of yellow cheese and that my mother actually loves me."
"If you put it like that, yeah, it does sound made up," Aurelian replied.
"So cut it with the crap," Lysander finally managed to stand up. He wobbled for a moment, testing his new arm, then fixed his gaze on Aurelian. "Who the heck are you? Really? And how did you get this strong?"
"I'm Aurelian Knox, and I live in Athens," Aurelian began. "And how I got strong? It would be dishonest of me to say that doing only pull-ups made me this skilled. I have to add," Aurelian continued, scratching the back of his head, "that I also run ten kilometers every day, do one hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, and one hundred squats. No rest days."
Clearly irritated, Lysander let out a heavy sigh. He looked at the dead bat and then at Aurelian's calm face. 'He clearly doesn't take me seriously,' Lysander thought. 'He's mocking me with a fake training routine. But I can't exactly call him a liar to his face. I literally couldn't even injure the bat.'
"Okay, Aurelian. Since you wish not to tell me the source of your power, I will stop asking. Keep your secrets. I suppose every guy needs a mysterious past to keep the ladies interested," Lysander said. He then turned and began to approach the overturned carriage.
To Aurelian, what he had told Lysander was a partial truth. The system indeed gave him daily workout quests that allowed his attributes to increase, but he knew that a normal person doing those exercises wouldn't achieve a tenth of his power. Without the system to translate those repetitions into raw stat points, a hundred squats were just a way to get sore legs.
Lysander reached the carriage and ignored the splinters and debris. He dropped to his knees and began to search beneath the slanted roof, reaching into the interior.
"Ah! There you are, my sweet companion," Lysander muttered. He pulled his book from the dirt and brushed the dust off the cover with his new hand, looking relieved. "A man of culture can lose an arm, but he must never lose his literature."
Aurelian, meanwhile, slowly walked toward the front of the carriage where the driver's seat had been shattered. He remembered the driver had collected sixteen silver coins earlier—eight from him and eight from Lysander. Since the man had abandoned them when he saw the monster, Aurelian considered the contract void.
He spotted a small leather pouch caught between a broken floorboard and a support beam. He reached in, gripped the leather, and pulled it free. He opened it and heard the satisfying clink of silver.
"Sixteen silver," Aurelian noted. He tucked the pouch into his belt. It was a small win, but every coin mattered for the gifts he needed to buy in Gasok.
Lysander stood up, clutching his book. "Now that we're robbed of our transport and our driver is likely halfway back to Athens, what's the plan?"
Aurelian looked down the dark road. "It's simple," he said. "We keep going. Gasok is just ahead. It's pointless to turn back now."
"Walk?" Lysander looked horrified. "In these sandals? Do you have any idea what that will do to my soles?"
"Stupid excuse!!," Aurelian shot back.
Aurelian's reasoning was simple. He couldn't just leave Lysander behind and walk alone to Gasok. He had only reincarnated into this era a month ago, and no matter how much he trained his body or sharpened his blade, familiarity with the land wasn't something one acquired in a matter of weeks.
To put it lightly, the roads that connected cities were rarely straightforward. Dirt paths split without warning, markers were scarce in this era, and many routes relied entirely on local knowledge. One wrong turn could cost hours in wasted time, or worse, lead straight into unfriendly territory.
That was why Lysander mattered. He was a local, someone Aurelian had deciphered to possess a good understanding of this road from their prior conversations. Having Lysander by his side was a good thing, since the carriage was destroyed.
Stretching his arm, Lysander gave Aurelian a brief side-eye and pondered, 'It seems he doesn't fully know the road to Gasok. That's why he hasn't left me by now, and earlier, being in a hurry, he didn't agree to a break. Meaning that whatever his doing in Gasok is seemingly urgent to him. Good! I can use this to my advantage. There's no doubt this man possesses strength far greater than a B-ranked Magi, possibly equal to an A-rank. I should probably be friendly and see what information I can get from him.'
"Okay, I'm ready to go," Lysander said. "Just don't yell at me like that. I'm a high-rank member of the Magi Association, damn it."
Magi Association. The words piqued Aurelian's interest. This wasn't the first time he had heard of them. They were commonly known as a secretive organization that sought to maintain the balance of magic in this era and act as a rapid response force against monster attacks. Of course, one had to be a Magi to become a member, and that alone required years of training, dedication, and discipline.
Aurelian walked at a steady pace, glancing at the burnt patches of grass where Lysander's lightning had struck earlier. He needed to know more about the magic of this world. While his system Indeed gave him skills as a legendary Paladin class, understanding the fundamental science of the arcane in this era could provide a massive advantage.
The problem was Lysander himself. From their short time together, Aurelian had identified that the man was a narcissist at his core. Direct questions wouldn't work. If Aurelian asked how magic functioned while refusing to explain his own strength, Lysander would likely shut down or try to bargain for secrets.
Aurelian decided to pivot. He forced his expression into one of mild awe and looked at Lysander.
"You know," Aurelian began, his voice dropping into a tone of genuine admiration, "that lightning back there… I must say, it was a powerful attack. How does a man even begin to grasp an art like that?"
Lysander stopped mid-stride, his chest puffing out instinctively. He looked at Aurelian, searching for any sign of mockery, but Aurelian kept his face neutral and impressed.
'It seems I might have impressed him after all,' Lysander thought. 'Of course he's curious. My display was magnificent, despite the... minor setback with my limb. An ignorant man like him must feel quite primitive watching the elements bend to my will.
And that healing art he used on my arm? He obviously used an artifact or drank some kind of elixir. There's no other explanation. Someone like him can't be unknown. If he were a top-tier healing magi, the Magi Association would have heard of him and recruited him long ago.
And recently, I've heard rumors of strange elixirs appearing in the back alleys of many cities, claiming they can give temporary boosts to magical ability. That has to be it. There's no way an ignorant person like him could be this skilled in magic. Though he does possess superhuman strength, that might also be the result of another elixir.
He's too ignorant to be worth stressing over. The fool didn't even know what a Gasoian bat was an hour ago.'
"It is not something one simply 'grasps,' Aurelian," Lysander answered Aurelian question, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "It requires a mind capable of holding complex geometries and linguistics simultaneously. I have spent years in the prestigious Magi schools, consuming hundreds of grimoires and dusty codexes that would make a lesser man's brain bleed from his ears."
"I also trained under the most rigorous masters of the lightning art," Lysander continued, waving his new hand through the air as if painting a picture. "The Codex of the Sky Thunder Path was my primary study. It is why I have mastered the lightning affinity. Most beginners will struggle even after a month, but I? I was reciting Tier III spells before my first month was up. It takes discipline, and, most importantly, a natural brilliance that very few possess."
Aurelian nodded slowly, playing the part of the intrigued student. "So, a beginner... someone like me, for instance... couldn't just pick up a book and learn a spell?"
Lysander laughed, a sharp arrogant sound. "A book? No. You need a Codex. A properly attuned magical text that bridges the gap between your intent and the Aether. But you are lucky you met me."
Lysander leaned in. "When we reach Gasok, I happen to know a certain dealer who owes me a favor. I could introduce you to him. He can sell you a basic elemental codex for a very cheap price—well, cheap for a man of my standing. And if you have the mental capacity for it, I might even be persuaded to tutor you on the basics of magic myself. For a fee, of course. It would be a waste to let all that physical potential go without a little spark to back it up."
'The narcissism is staggering,' Aurelian thought, though he kept a grateful smile on his face. 'He's already forgotten he almost became bat droppings ten minutes ago. Now he's a grand tutor of the arts.'
"I would appreciate that, Lysander," Aurelian said. "A man of your expertise would be the perfect teacher."
"Indeed I would," Lysander replied, turning back to the road with a newfound spring in his step. "You'll find that in the Magi Association, we value results. And my results, as you saw—mostly—speak for themselves."
"Okay, that will be all for now," Lysander said. "Let's reach Gasok first, and we will continue from there."