Sothing seed a little bit off.
Mahos had gotten up bright and early, fully prepared for the day.
He knew that he was still a backup, still learning, still growing. But that didn't an he didn't want to be the starting quarterback.
The Super Bowl at the beginning of the year—watching the team battle through blood and grit, clawing their way to the top—had ignited a fire in him. He wanted to fight. He wanted to be in those monts.
The more he wanted it, the clearer his mind beca.
Mahos wasn't delusional. He knew he still had work to do. Fortunately, Lance's introduction had given him a chance to join this rare offseason training. He was determined to seize it and shock everyone when the team returned to training camp.
He got up on ti, energized and ready to go.
But...
When he didn't see Lance in his room, an ominous feeling crept up his spine.
When he arrived at the training field, what he saw made his heart sink—
As expected, that bad feeling was never wrong.
There, on the field, Lance and Watt were doing burpees.
Even if you aren't a professional athlete, anyone who's exercised knows what a burpee is. It's a full-body aerobic exercise that burns massive amounts of energy in a short ti. It's known as the "fat-burning killer," but it also demands a lot from your cardiovascular system.
By itself, burpees are already brutal. But Lance and Watt were doing an upgraded version.
They started from one end zone of the field and did burpees all the way forward, covering thirty yards.
Then, they switched to the notorious suicide drill—
From the thirty-yard line, they sprinted to the thirty-five-yard line and back, then to the forty-yard line and back, repeating this pattern.
This drill was called "suicide" for a reason—its intensity is a nightmare, even for professional athletes.
They continued sprinting to the midfield line.
Then, they switched back to burpees, moving forward to the twenty-yard line on the opposite side, before switching again to suicide sprints, finally finishing at the opposite end zone.
This wasn't just an upgrade; it was hell-level difficulty.
What happened to gradual progress? What happened to simple warm-ups? What happened to relax and enjoy the vacation?
Even just standing on the sidelines watching them train was enough to make Mahos feel his lungs burn.
It was brutal.
Knowing how painful this kind of training is only made it worse.
Kelsey shook his head and muttered, "Those two are absolute beasts."
Mahos turned to Kelsey, puzzled. "Is it really okay for you to call Lance that?"
Kelsey: ...
Not far away, the winner was already clear.
In terms of speed, Lance had the edge, crossing the line first.
But Watt wasn't far behind, just a few steps slower as he charged through the end zone.
Lance smiled, shaking his head slightly—not quite satisfied with his performance.
His body still felt sluggish, clearly still adjusting from the relaxed offseason routine. Plus, last night's poor sleep didn't help.
"Warm-up. Warm-up," Lance reminded Watt with a grin.
Watt flashed his perfect white teeth, chuckling, "Of course, this is just the beginning."
The two of them even high-fived to celebrate.
A cool breeze carried their conversation across the field, and the sight landed in everyone's eyes.
Kelsey: ... "Absolute beasts."
Mahos turned to Kelsey, eyes wide with disbelief. He almost choked on his own spit. Though he agreed, saying it out loud felt a bit much.
Lance and Watt also noticed the commotion on the sidelines—
It looked like it was five o'clock now.
It was worth noting that everyone was here. No one was late; no one bailed.
That's the beauty of a private training camp: a group of like-minded athletes coming together to train hard.
If you planned to slack off, you wouldn't have accepted the invitation in the first place.
"Hey, sleepyheads, finally dragged yourselves out of bed, huh?" Lance teased as he walked over.
Boo! Boo!
Kelsey was the first to join in the jeering, and the others quickly followed.
Lance wasn't fazed at all. He spread his hands wide. "See? I get it. You guys probably can't keep up with real n like Watt and . No worries, the next part of the training will be a lot easier. No need to get scared by a little warm-up."
A little warm-up?
Kelsey had been ready with a coback but swallowed his words.
But Hopkins? He was having none of it. With a sneer, he mocked, "Heh. You're the only one who found it hard. Typical rookie, making a big deal out of nothing."
Everyone expected Lance to throw so sarcasm back or brush it off like he did with Kelsey, but instead, Lance's face lit up with surprise and admiration.
"Wow, really? No wonder you're the league's top wide receiver. I'm so impressed. I can't wait to follow you and learn sothing today. This is just amazing."
Mahos: Why does this feel weird?
Hopkins didn't seem to notice. He raised his chin proudly, "Damn right."
Lance's eyes sparkled with excitent. "I'm really looking forward to the training now."
Everyone around them could hear the sarcasm dripping from Lance's words—everyone except Hopkins, who seed oblivious. His smug expression only grew as if he'd just been crowned king of the world.
Kelsey leaned over to Mahos and whispered, "Do you think Lance even knows who Hopkins is?"
Mahos, ever the honest guy, just chuckled awkwardly and scratched his head.
Over on the field, Watt flashed a grateful smile at Lance.
The banter was sharp, but Lance had kept it just light enough to avoid real conflict. Watt knew it was a gesture of respect, not wanting to stir trouble on the first day of camp.
Watt cleared his throat, assuming his role as host. "So, Lance and I did a little test run earlier. We both agreed it's a good idea. Before every drill—whether it's strength or technical—we're going to start with a two-kiloter run..."
Stunned silence.
Whispers and murmurs of complaint imdiately rippled through the group like boiling water.
Watt had to raise his voice. "There's no ti limit. Just go at your own pace."
Watt looked at Jason Kelce.
As a center, Jason's training routine was different from the others. Standing 6'2" (191 cm) and weighing 295 pounds (134 kg), he was built like a mountain.
Expecting him to sprint like Lance would be unrealistic, so the training had to be adjusted.
Still, Jason understood that adding a two-kiloter run before each drill wasn't about speed—it was about stamina. The farther they pushed into the season, the more endurance mattered.
Speed wasn't the focus; the goal was to finish at their own pace.
Jason gave Watt a solid nod, flashing a toothy grin. "No problem."
Watt let out a breath of relief. "Great, then let's get started. Two kiloters before the first drill."
Before he even finished speaking, Hopkins shot off like an arrow, leaving everyone else behind, just a blur of motion in the distance.
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