3 Milana 1 (1/2)

In an upstairs space of the Grandbell household, a sound that could only be compared to stone slamming against stone was reverberating.

5:05 AM flashed on a timer nearby as Ci-ci bobbed and weaved through his morning routine.

The room itself seemed like a completely different world as compared to the rest of the house.

A singular and old-fashioned fluorescent bulb hung in the middle of the ceiling, providing dim lighting. The walls and floor were made of nothing but cracked and unkept concrete. And even the weights that lined a side of the room were nothing but rusted metal versions of their original selves. The only thing that reminded you that this space was part of a high-tech household was the control panel to the side that pumped it with the steam of a sauna.

And yet, Ci-ci remained unperturbed by all of this.

His fists were like gusts of strong wind, disappearing again and again as they flashed forward to slam into a punching bag.

His bare feet scrapped against the coarse ground, light and untethered by gravity, shifting seamlessly from form to form.

Beads of sweat ran down Ci-ci's shirtless torso, a military tag bouncing violently around his neck with his every movement. An oxygen deprivation mask, modified to the extreme, breathed in the dense sauna fog, lessening Ci-ci's air supply even more.

However, maybe the most striking part about this ridiculous workout was the fact Ci-ci's punching bag wasn't filled with sand… It was filled with a stone polymer laced with carbon elements… Carbon elements that included diamond!

Despite this, Ci-ci's fists flew forward without hesitation, sending a punching back that must have weighed in ton units flying backwards with a flurry of strikes.

Maybe a normal person would have already shattered all of the bones in their arm. In fact, maybe a normal person wouldn't even be able to stand after this level of oxygen deprivation. But… Ci-ci showed no sign of stopping even as he heard the doorbell ring at 10 AM.

'Who?... Ah, must be her.' Ci-ci's hand reached up to his mask, pulling it off. ”Anabelle, log this workout for me. Also, increase the water vapour ratio next time, I'm getting complacent. The weight of the punching bag is just fine, but its too flexible – toughen it up. Set the room back to modern.”

The control panel hummed in acknowledgement, taking down Ci-ci's requests.

Suddenly the room began to shift as Ci-ci walked to the wall opposite the set of weights. Panels of light flashed as the concrete changed to a black springy floor.

The wall Ci-ci walked toward underwent the most drastic change, becoming a large transparent pan of glass that looked out and into an elegantly designed living room.

Ci-ci pushed through the glass door, looking down at himself. 'Ah, whatever. I don't have time to change.'