The moment the sun rose, he was already awake.
Not because he was well-rested.
Not because he was comfortable.
But because weakness irritated him.
Yesterday, he had arrived in the DC Universe.
Yesterday, he had learned that his Adaptation wasn't merely powerful.
It was monstrous.
Yet despite that realization, one fact remained unchanged.
He was weak.
A wolf could still kill him if he made a mistake.
A random thug in Gotham could probably knock him unconscious.
A low-level metahuman could crush him.
Compared to the monsters that existed in the DC Universe, he was nothing.
And that was unacceptable.
The boy slowly stood up.
His small body was sore from yesterday's training.
The soreness lasted less than three seconds.
Warmth spread through his muscles.
The discomfort disappeared.
His Adaptation had already adjusted.
A grin appeared on his face.
"Good."
If he couldn't become stronger overnight...
He would become stronger every second.
And unlike normal people, he had no reason to stop.
No matter how hard he trained, his body would continue adapting.
No matter how much damage he accumulated, his body would continue improving.
No matter how much suffering he endured—
It would become fuel.
The boy looked toward the rising sun.
Then he started running.
At first, his pace was normal.
Steady.
Controlled.
Something a child could realistically maintain.
Ten minutes later, he increased his speed.
Twenty minutes later, he increased it again.
Thirty minutes later, his lungs were burning.
His legs felt heavy.
Sweat poured down his face.
A normal child would have stopped.
He accelerated.
Pain exploded through his calves.
His breathing became ragged.
His heart hammered against his chest.
The forest blurred around him.
Branches whipped against his skin.
Roots threatened to trip him.
He ignored everything.
Run.
Run.
Run.
Run.
The command echoed endlessly inside his mind.
Minutes became hours.
The pain grew worse.
Then Adaptation responded.
His breathing became more efficient.
His muscles consumed less energy.
His joints became sturdier.
His cardiovascular system improved.
The pain lessened.
Not because it disappeared.
Because he adapted to it.
The moment one level of suffering became manageable—
He increased the intensity.
Faster.
Further.
Harder.
The boy's expression remained calm.
But his eyes had become frighteningly focused.
There was no hesitation.
No excuses.
No thoughts of resting.
Only progress.
By the fourth hour, blood stained his feet.
He had long since run through his shoes.
Sharp rocks had sliced his skin open repeatedly.
The wounds healed.
The skin hardened.
His feet adapted.
Eventually, he stopped feeling the cuts altogether.
By the sixth hour, he finally collapsed.
Face-first into the dirt.
His entire body trembled.
Every muscle screamed.
His vision blurred.
His lungs felt like they were on fire.
Yet despite everything—
He smiled.
Because he was stronger than he had been six hours ago.
Far stronger.
Five minutes later, he stood back up.
"Again."
No one was there to hear him.
No one was there to stop him.
The forest remained silent.
The boy walked toward the nearest tree.
A massive oak.
Its trunk was wider than his body.
He raised his fists.
Then punched.
THUD!
Pain exploded through his hand.
He punched again.
THUD!
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The impacts echoed through the forest.
His knuckles split open.
Blood dripped onto the ground.
The bark cracked.
The tree remained standing.
The boy continued.
Hundreds of punches.
Thousands.
Time lost meaning.
The only thing that mattered was movement.
His fists became covered in blood.
The blood disappeared.
The wounds closed.
The skin hardened.
The bones became denser.
The muscles strengthened.
Adaptation worked relentlessly.
Every injury became a lesson.
Every lesson became improvement.
Hours passed.
Eventually—
CRACK!
A large section of bark shattered.
The boy's fist had punched straight through it.
He froze.
Then looked at his hand.
Not a scratch remained.
His grin widened.
Then he punched again.
The afternoon was dedicated to strength.
Pure strength.
He found the largest boulder he could move.
Then carried it.
Not for minutes.
Not for an hour.
For as long as his body remained functional.
His shoulders screamed.
His arms trembled.
His legs threatened to buckle.
He kept walking.
The boulder grew heavier with every step.
Or perhaps he was simply growing weaker.
Either way, the result was the same.
Suffering.
Exactly what he wanted.
When his muscles adapted—
He found a heavier boulder.
When that became manageable—
He found another.
The cycle repeated endlessly.
By sunset, his entire body felt broken.
His shoulders were swollen.
His muscles twitched uncontrollably.
Every step hurt.
So he started climbing trees.
The branch snapped.
The boy fell.
CRASH!
His back slammed into the ground.
Pain exploded through his spine.
He coughed.
For several moments, he couldn't breathe.
A normal person would have rested.
The boy stood up.
Then climbed again.
The second fall hurt less.
The third hurt less.
The tenth barely bothered him.
His balance improved.
His coordination improved.
His reaction speed improved.
The Adaptation absorbed every mistake.
Every failure.
Every injury.
Transforming them into progress.
The forest became his training ground.
The trees became his teachers.
Gravity became his enemy.
And his Adaptation devoured every lesson.
The sun finally disappeared.
Darkness descended.
The boy's stomach growled violently.
He hadn't eaten nearly enough.
He barely cared.
Food was important.
Training was more important.
At least for now.
The moon rose overhead.
Silver light illuminated the forest.
Most children would be asleep.
The boy continued training.
He began performing squats.
One hundred.
Two hundred.
Five hundred.
One thousand.
His legs shook.
He continued.
Push-ups followed.
Then sit-ups.
Then sprinting.
Then climbing.
Then punching.
Then lifting.
Then running.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The cycle never stopped.
At some point, he stopped counting.
Numbers didn't matter.
Only collapse mattered.
Only reaching his limit mattered.
And every time he reached that limit—
Adaptation pushed it further away.
Midnight arrived.
The forest was silent.
The boy stood alone beneath the moonlight.
His body swayed slightly.
His vision blurred.
His muscles felt like jelly.
Every breath burned.
His heart pounded like a war drum.
Yet he continued running.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
The world spun around him.
His body begged him to stop.
His instincts screamed at him to rest.
He ignored them.
Muichiro Tokito's training had once been described as relentless.
Training until collapse.
Then doing it again.
The boy understood that mentality perfectly.
Because unlike ordinary people—
His suffering generated results.
Every second mattered.
Every drop of sweat mattered.
Every collapse mattered.
The harder he pushed—
The faster he grew.
So why stop?
Eventually, his body made the decision for him.
His leg gave out.
Then the other.
The world tilted sideways.
The ground rushed upward.
THUD.
He hit the dirt.
This time he didn't get back up.
Not immediately.
His arms refused to move.
His legs refused to respond.
Even breathing felt difficult.
The stars blurred overhead.
For several moments, he simply lay there.
Motionless.
Completely exhausted.
Then the warmth arrived.
Adaptation.
His body began repairing itself.
Optimizing itself.
Strengthening itself.
The familiar sensation spread through every muscle.
Every bone.
Every organ.
Every cell.
The boy laughed weakly.
The sound echoed through the darkness.
"Tomorrow..."
His voice was barely audible.
"Harder."
His Adaptation had no limits.
That meant his growth had no limits.
And if his growth had no limits—
Then he would never allow himself to become complacent.
Never.
The DC Universe was filled with monsters.
So he would become stronger.
The DC Universe was filled with gods.
So he would become stronger.
The DC Universe was filled with impossible beings.
So he would become stronger.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until there was nothing left that could stop him.
His eyes slowly closed.
For the first time all day, he allowed himself to rest.
Not because he wanted to.
But because tomorrow's training demanded it.
And tomorrow—
He would push even further.