The hellish training regimen started up again as if someone had flipped a switch.
Those first few days where Leo Shaw had merely been getting used to the weight of the Weighted Iron Suit—dragging himself around like a walking dumbbell set—turned out to be nothing more than a warm-up, a light appetizer before the real course was served.
From then on, every time he stepped into the Simulation Training Arena, the suit on his body was tuned to press him right up against the edge of what his frame could still carry without literally snapping. Metal plates of dense Spirit Material hugged his shoulders, chest, back, and limbs; the whole thing felt less like armor and more like someone had taken a compact sports car and hung it from his body with straps. Each step sank a little deeper, every mov
