Meredi and the Gym

The training hall smelled like metal and sweat.

Unlike the main Guild Hall, the gym wasn’t trying to impress anyone, but it was massive, like someone had tried to turn an old industrial furnace room into a place for physical worship. Steel plates for walls, patched pipes running along most surfaces, many ventilation fans were installed too and they’d managed to cram tall mirrors here and there, giving you distorted, wobbly reflections in some places and pristine ones in others.

The flooring  was something. Some kind of rubberized polymer, spongy and clean, reminding me of gyms back on Earth before everything went to hell. 

Weights were lined up in organized racks along one wall. Dumbbells of black iron, bars of varying length and thickness, kettlebells shaped like monster skulls—intimidating, sure, but beautiful in their own way.

There weren’t traditional machines. Instead, there were mana-powered resistance devices. One guy was pushing against a gear-based resistance wall, muscles trembling as the wheel pushed back with growing strength. Another woman was strapped into a rotating rig that simulated swimming through sludge—it was like resistance training against a whirlpool.

Off to the side, there was even a roped-off sparring ring. I didn’t need much thought to figure out why salvagers trained so hard. In this world, staying strong didn’t just help you haul scrap or beat the slime monsters. Sometimes, you had to knock out another salvager trying to steal your haul.

“It’s a real gritty sight,” I said, putting my stuff down.

Meredi tugged off her black jacket and tossed it onto a bench. Her tank was clinging to her body, hugging every curve that wasn’t already outside of it. She stretched once, reminding me that her arms could probably curl me like a sack of flour.

“Start easy,” she said, nodding toward a set of dumbbells. “Ten-pounders to warm up.”

I gave her a smirk and grabbed a pair of twenties.

She raised a brow. “Feeling ambitious, huh?”

I knocked out ten slow, controlled reps. “Just trying to impress the goddess of muscles.”

“Well, color me impressed. Since when can you do that?”

I grinned. “I’ve been working out.”

“And wow, you’re actually doing it right if you can crank those out. Okay!” she said, eyes sparkling with excitement.

She hefted a pair of fifties like they were nothing and stood beside me in front of one of the wider mirrors. Her stance was clean, shoulders tight, arms flexed with perfect form.

I traded out for twenty-fives and mimicked her posture. Well, I tried. Most of my attention went to studying her through the mirror. Her biceps tensed and relaxed with each curl—a graphic in a game could never do them justice. They were so giant, and the way they glistened with sweat—it was like beyond high definition.

“Straighten up,” she said. “Keep an eye on me.”

“Got it,” I replied, narrowing my eyes on her form further.

The veins along her forearms were visible, running like living cables beneath ember-touched skin. I got to admire her in motion, and because we were working out, it wasn’t weird.

I was in heaven—muscle goddess heaven.

“Hey! Meredi!” a voice called out.

We both turned.

A tall man approached—broad, thick-chested, with skin like copper and long, braided hair. His sleeveless tunic did a lot to accentuate his traps and arms. Just behind him was a lankier, nervous guy who looked like he was trying not to trip over his own boots.

“Ervon,” Meredi said, nodding with a smile. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Repair job finished early. Brought along a new recruit.” Ervon clapped the scrawny man on the back, making him stumble a step. “Name’s Cray. Kid’s got potential, but he needs a bit more oomph behind his arms.”

Cray gave a shy nod.

“This is my stepson, Timaeus,” Meredi replied, casual and smooth.

My soul withered a bit. But I kept smiling.

Ervon laughed. “Stepson, huh? Poor kid’s got some big shoes to fill.”

“I’m 32,” I muttered.

Meredi glanced my way. “I think he’s doing just fine.”

"Stepson, you spot her or just watch in awe?" Ervon asked, amused.

"He spots me," Meredi said proudly.

My brain melted. I wore the stupidest grin.

“Don’t worry,” I said with fake bravado. “I won’t let you down.”

Ervon laughed again, “Alright, we’ll leave you to it,” and the two moved on.

Meredi chuckled. “Ervon’s a good guy.”

My eyes narrowed, and I started pumping faster.

“Timaeus?”

I huffed through my nose. “I’m going to be bigger than that guy.”

Meredi’s smile widened. “You don’t need to be that big. It’s a little bit too much, don’t you think?”

I slowed down immediately. “I will be leaner than that guy.”

We worked through more sets—squats, overhead presses, curls, pull-ups—and the pride in my chest grew with every rep. My body still ached from the last few days, but all this effort—all my waking up and working out— was really paying off. I was keeping up and I was leaving Meredi impressed.

“Bench press next,” Meredi said, leading me to the padded bench.

She loaded up two plates on each side of the bar.

“Two hundred pounds?” I asked. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Want me to get crushed when I’m working beneath some gearbox contraption?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she shot me a playful smirk.

“Never. Heck, I’d rather you not work beneath something so dangerous.”

“Well, life isn’t so kind,” she replied. She lay down, set her grip, and breathed deeply. Her body tensed so much that her muscle definition increased threefold. “Spot me.”

I stepped behind the bar. The first two sets were fine. Then, on the third set, she pushed through the first few reps fine—but by the twelfth, she was trembling.

I was concerned. “Meredi—”

“Tell me I can do it!” she barked.

“You can do it!” I shouted out of reflex.

“Louder!”

“You can do it, Meredi!”

“Damn right I can!” she growled, voice cracking from strain.

I hovered my hands under the bar, ready, but she powered through six more reps, face red, jaw clenched, arms bulging with effort. She made it to eighteen and I helped guide the bar back into the rack the moment it dipped.

She let out a deep exhale, arms falling to her sides.

“You did it,” I whispered, holding back the urge to throw my arms around her.

She raised her shaking arm and showed me a thumbs-up. "New record," she breathed.

I grinned. "That’s one for the books."

She reached up and tapped her knuckles against my chest. "You’re not so bad yourself, partner."

I think I blushed. Just a little.

Ervon came back around, shirtless now, with a fresh sheen of sweat and looking far too proud of it.

“Hey Meredi,” he said, wiping his brow. “You up for a quick spar?”

I opened my mouth to decline on her behalf—but Meredi had already lit up.

“Sure!” she said brightly, cracking her knuckles. “Just let me grab gloves.”

My mouth stayed open, the air caught somewhere between a “Wait” and a “Why.”

“And how about this,” Ervon added, smiling. “After our match, our rookies go at it. Cray and Timaeus.”

What? No, I didn’t want to do that—

“Yesss.,” Meredi grinned, slapping her fist into her palm. “I’ve been dying to see Tim in the ring. He’s way tougher than he looks, did you know that?” Meredi turned to me, her eye sparkling. “You hear that, Tim? You’re going in the ring!”

I couldn’t speak. I was just so overwhelmed by her.

“I’m going in the ring,” I finally managed to say, and then, as if it was a blessing, she gripped my hand, a mighty clap rumbling the air.

“And you’re going to win!” she proclaimed.

“Yeah!”

I was going to die from adorability overload.

Before I could blink, I was standing ringside, my arms crossed, watching Meredi tug on a pair of combat gloves—fingerless leather wraps, padded across the knuckles, with woven stitching and metal clasps. She rolled her neck, then slipped in her mouthguard.

It was then that I realized that, wait, no, this was horrifying.

Then Ervon stepped into the ring shirtless.

With his shirt off, he looked huge. Like an angry demigod. His chest was wider than most doors. His shoulders looked like they had backup shoulders on standby. Veins ran like tree roots across his arms, and seemed to be engorging in real time. Compared to Meredi—who was plenty built in her own right—he looked like a goliath.

They met in the middle of the mat. Touched gloves. Smirked at each other.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, tightening the cloth band around his wrist.

“Try not to cry when I flip you,” she said with a grin, bouncing on her heels.

“Regular rules,” he said.

My sense returned to me. I raised a hand in protest. “Hey, wait, is this fair? That guy’s got like a hundred pounds on her—”

Cheers erupted. Other guild members had gathered to watch the friendly match.

I wasn’t cheering. 

The match started with a quick exchange of feints, and then—Meredi lunged in for a low grapple.

Ervon didn’t even flinch. He countered by sweeping her sideways and guiding her down onto her hands and knees. He got one knee pressed behind her thigh and his arms wrapped around her stomach. He had his sweaty chest pressed against her toned back.

From behind.

Full body contact.

I felt my soul vibrate.

I nearly jumped the ropes.

I never thought I could hate someone more than the devs. Or the original Timaeus. Or the City Lord.

But Ervon—this grinning bastard—had ascended to a new tier of loathing.

I could practically feel his arm against her ribcage. His torso against her back. That smug little smile. His breath on her neck—

I will destroy you, I thought. I will alchemize your face into a sock puppet. Even if that’s not possible in this world!!!

Ervon suddenly had her in a headlock. Meredi kicked twice—and then tapped.

“Whew,” Ervon breathed, releasing her.

Meredi flopped onto her back, chest heaving. “Is it obvious I’m not a fighter?” she groaned, tugging out her mouthguard.

“You’re still one of the strongest people I know,” Ervon said, laughing with her. 

She grinned. “Thanks for the compliment."

I glared so hard the ring ropes could start vibrating from the intensity.

***

My time came sooner than I expected.

While Meredi slipped on my gloves, I stared into the middle distance with all the calm of a man who had just witnessed a war crime.

“You okay?” she asked, tugging a strap snug. “Your face looks kind of—”

“I’m focused,” I said, voice more gravely than I ever thought I could sound.

She grinned, completely misreading me. “Good! Have fun. I’m rooting for you.”

I walked away. “I’m earning my stew today.”

A slight gasp sounded behind me, but it might have been my imagination.

I stepped into the ring like a demon in a rage.

Cray visibly paled. The poor guy looked like a candle in the rain.

“Don’t worry, Cray!” Ervon called from the sidelines. “You’ve got this! Just remember what I said. Stay loose, keep moving, don’t let the alchemist explode your head.”

Cray turned. “He can explode heads?!”

“I’m joking,” Ervon said with a wave and a rosy chuckle. “Right, Meredi—”

“Crush him, Tim!” Meredi shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. “BREAK HIS FLIMSY STANCE. TEAR HIM APART!”

I had to turn to look at her. She looked so wild. Holy shit. I looked at Cray. “I’m going to annihilate you,” I whispered.

He paled harder.

I waved to Ervon. “Rules?”

Ervon chuckled. “Anything goes, within reason. Just avoid the groin. This is about adapting to the chaos of combat.”

Cray shivered.

I cracked my neck. “Cool. Just letting you know I’m insane.”

Meredi's shout exploded from behind me. “CRAY, YOU’RE GOING DOWN, PUNK!”

“Did you get that, Ervon?” I asked. “My warning?”

Ervon laughed. “I hope so. Let’s see some creativity. This is to prep Cray for field encounters.”

Then he walked back over to Meredi’s side. They stood shoulder to shoulder.

What a bastard.

“You know,” Meredi said, “Tim survived a trip to the marshes. Alone.”

Ervon raised a brow. “That so?”

“I even gave him the sword. Told me he even fought a Gloomspawn.”

She was gushing. I loved it. I would kill 100 Gloomspawn if it meant seeing Meredi gush.

Ervon turned, and our eyes met. He studied me, then nodded slowly—like he realized what I was in his quest to put hands on Meredi.

“Alright, Tim. If it’s clear you’re winning, ease off. This isn’t about punishment. It’s about experience. Let Cray feel the pressure, not the healer’s bill.”

I nodded.

Meredi, unaware of the fire burning inside me, waved him off with a teasing tone. “You getting scared, Ervon? Worried my little alchemist’s gonna beat your protégé?”

Ervon chuckled. “Nah. More scared that—if that look in his eye’s any sign—you might be blind, Meredi.”

He gave me a nod.

“Kid looks like a wrathful paladin about to smite evil.”

“Huh?” Meredi asked. “What are you talking about? He’s my cute little stepson.”

My whole body twitched.

I pulled my mouthguard into place and cracked my neck.

“This soul’s got over 20 years of bad living packed into it,” I muttered.