30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 3

In the early dawn, before the sun had yet risen.

The taverns that stayed open late were still bustling, and the only ones stirring at this hour were the farmers, slowly waking and heading toward their fields.

Huff, huff!

Thud, thud.

Suddenly, heavy breathing and the sound of pounding feet echoed through the streets, as if a horse were galloping by. Those nearby might have even experienced an illusion of something larger than life racing down the road—such was the intensity of the runner's presence.

Yet.

"Sir Knight, running again today, are you?"

"So diligent, as always."

"Keep it up!"

The farmers, who were accustomed to waking up early, shouted words of encouragement toward the man running with such force.

Though their own days were repetitive, always starting with the same routines, the energy radiating from the runner was a refreshing change for them. It lifted their spirits and provided a break from the monotony that often became a mental burden.

Especially.

"Oh my, what a sight!"

"Maybe I should cover my eyes?"

"I wish my husband had such drive, hoho."

"...Is he a man or a beast?"

The women, pretending to shield their eyes, eagerly watched the half-naked man, clearly enjoying the view and drawing vitality from the spectacle.

The men, on the other hand, gazed enviously at his physique, feeling a mix of motivation and jealousy. In some ways, this situation seemed to benefit everyone.

Huff, huff!

The man, Ihan, acknowledged the greetings with only a glance, too focused on his intense training to engage in conversation.

It wasn’t that he was unfriendly, but rather, he took his exercise seriously and had no time for distractions.

The farmers understood this and didn’t mind. In fact...

"Here, have this later!"

With a flick of the wrist, a farmer threw an apple.

Without even turning around, Ihan effortlessly caught it mid-air and waved back in gratitude.

The farmer beamed with pride.

"Quite a guy, isn’t he?"

"Not every day you see a knight living outside the city walls."

"That’s true, haha."

For the past three years, rain or shine, Ihan had run daily without fail. It was hard not to root for someone like that, even if no one knew his ultimate goal.

"He's definitely destined for greatness," one farmer declared with conviction.

"I swear, this year, I’m submitting my resignation for real!"

Crunch!

Ihan bit into the apple as he shouted to himself, reinforcing his determination for the day.

His goal? Retirement.

He was eager to quit.

As usual, Ihan ran.

But this wasn’t just any run—his goal was to complete 20 kilometers within an hour.

It wasn’t about sprinting the entire distance. His objective was to maintain a steady pace while keeping his breathing and movements consistent.

Weighted sandbags, each weighing 10 kilograms, were strapped to his wrists and ankles. Sometimes, he even ran in full armor.

Thud, thud.

The impact of his footsteps reverberated through the ground, but he paid no attention to the added strain on his body.

Running was just the beginning—there was still much more to do.

"Huff."

He approached a pull-up bar in an open field. Grabbing hold of the bar...

"Hnngh!"

He began pull-ups. Over and over, he pulled himself up, maintaining perfect form without rest.

His biceps, lats, and spinal muscles all fired up as his body reacted to the strain. He focused intently on each tiny movement of his muscles, feeling every contraction.

It was his body, and his muscles.

He needed to understand exactly how they worked, how they could be pushed harder, and how to maximize their strength. Just building muscle without purpose wasn’t enough.

‘I don’t need to move with precision like that monster, but if I can make my body strong enough to withstand even his blows, that’ll be enough!’

With a clear goal in mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about how to improve.

At some point, he strapped an additional 20-kilogram sandbag between his legs, and 30 kilograms on his back. As he continued, the intensity of the exercise escalated dramatically.

Groooan.

The pull-up bar, which was designed to bear a lot of weight, began to creak under the strain of his prolonged effort.

Was it going to break? Or was he just using too much force?

"...I need to be more careful with my strength."

Even he realized he might have been overdoing it. Gently, Ihan released his grip and dropped back to the ground.

After 90 minutes of non-stop pull-ups, his body radiated heat as if steam was rising from his skin.

Sweat pooled beneath him, and his muscles trembled from the extreme workout.

Thud!

Hack!

Chomp, chomp.

Grind, grind.