"One more round," he said. "Modified. Lighter loads. Shorter sets. And the second—the second—I say stop, we stop. No debate. You override me, and I walk. I won't train someone who treats their body like a disposable weapon."
"Understood."
"Will you actually listen?"
Phei met his gaze, unflinching. "When it really matters? Yeah. This matters… differently."
Kieran held the stare for another beat.
Then he snatched up his clipboard with a sharp nod.
"Alright, you absolute madman. Let's find out what you're really made of."
****
The third hour didn't just break him. It dismantled him, piece by trembling piece, and scattered the parts across the gym floor like a warning to anyone else dumb enough to try.
Back to the rower—three hundred meters this time, resistance dialed down to "merciful." Phei's arms responded like overcooked noodles with a grudge. His back had gone radio silent. He finished anyway.
