The rest of the group fell after their numbers had been thinned. It still took time and he was winded as the next “wave” of grey-men formed.

Ten humanoids approached. Indistinct faces set in muscular bodies.

Dakota lay on the grass gasping. He had killed all of the constructs but it had been difficult. Twenty hard minutes of brawling to dispatch all of them.

The first five minutes he hadn’t been sure whether he would survive. The running trick worked except there were four fast constructs which he had to deal with. He was forced to run around the valley, slowly picking them off one by one.

He sat up, chest still heaving.

Fifteen constructs were forming on the hillside. He wouldn’t make it this time. Not only was he exhausted, his arms also felt like jello and he had a pounding headache from a misjudged dodge.

This was going to suck.

Dakota blinked. A puddle pooled around his feet in the corridor. Death in this room always triggered some primal fear in him.

He had feared the pain of the incineration beams in the first room but that wasn’t the case here. The feeling of a dozen hands pounding your body as you fought and thrashed just wasn’t the same.

He cleaned off at the well again, scanning the forest. He spent most of his time in the tunnels so he didn’t know whether they were being watched; however, nothing on the farm looked out of place.

Jesus rolled in the grass, happy to be free from his prison. Dakota felt bad about locking the lamb inside but he couldn’t risk him getting captured and killed. Not again.

He sat on the deck, watching the evening sun dip into the horizon. He wondered what his family was doing right now. Were they worried about him? Did they even know he was gone?

Sighing, he stood. He would get back…eventually. He knew he would.

The next two days proceeded in a similar fashion to the days before. He only died on wave three once and that was his first reattempt with the hoe. The weapon proved instrumental in reaching the later waves. He didn’t know what he would have done without it.

Dakota gasped, stumbling to the wet ground. The crystal wall stared at him, full of contempt for his measly attempts.

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That had been a bad death. The constructs in the later waves appeared to learn from the earlier waves. He had made it to the fourth wave and was doing fairly well…until one of the humanoids picked up a rock and threw it at him. It was copying how he had thrown rocks at the constructs in the previous wave, except that once it began, the others quickly followed. Fifteen pairs of hands were a lot more than one. That must have been what Steven felt like.

He stepped out of his puddle of pee. He was consistently making it to the fourth wave; however, he wasn’t getting any further. His reflexes and “fighting instinct” were improving but his body was the same every attempt which made sense since he returned to the state he had been in when he put his hand on the circle.

He appreciated this feature as any wounds or more permanent issues resolved themselves upon his death. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear any of his hard work in the rooms resulted in his body gaining muscle or getting into better shape.

He dropped to the floor and started doing pushups. Better to start now, rather than after the training room had ended. The number on the additional screen had ticked from “23” down to “21” - confirming his suspicion it was a timer.

Twenty-one days to finish the training. That didn’t seem that bad, assuming there weren’t another ten rooms to finish.

Dakota hooked his toes under the step to the deck and pulled himself into a sitting position. Then let himself down again, then pulled himself back up.

Sit-ups had been incorporated into his strength training regime. Along with pull-ups and sprinting. Another eighteen days had passed and he still hadn’t finished the room. Three days left. Three days to complete what he was beginning to think was an impossible challenge. The fourth wave always proved too difficult to complete. He had gotten close a couple of times but something told him there was at least one more wave after the fourth. Four was too awkward of a number to end something on.

He had spent more of his time strength training the last week, trying to improve his base abilities when he entered the simulation.

Today would be his last day of training before resting. He needed to be at full strength for the last day, that would be his best opportunity. He stood, sweat drying as he strode into the tunnel. There was no time to waste.

He placed his hand on the circle and “pushed”.

The first two waves were a breeze. He only half-focused as he twirled the hoe, clipping heads. Something needed to change…but what?

He didn’t think he would complete the room, even with three days of rest. The press of bodies became too hard to maneuver in, too hard to do anything other than flail and hope.

The third wave proved a challenge but he reserved his strength and still killed the constructs in record time.

Now for the real challenge.

None of the constructs picked up stones which he was thankful for. He had stopped throwing them after his first stoning.

He ran to the edge of the hillside and waited for the fast humanoids to break ahead of the others. This was harder with fifteen since six figures charged toward him as the others lagged behind. It still presented him with the best opportunity to thin their number if he could land some lucky hits.

He swung the hoe low as he danced backward, clipping the first construct on the ankle. It went down but didn’t fade.