Hudson’s workout was just as tough as he thought it would be. The Physical Training addition to his room – functionally, a small personal gym – did have a few things that made it easier for Hudson. He couldn’t figure out how his gym room fit in between his room and the next participant’s; the distance between the door to his room and the next was only about 5 feet, and his gym was far bigger than that, and should not have fit, but it did. It was very strange.

His personal gym was more technologically advanced than anything Hudson had ever seen before. On a shelf next to the door was a bottle and a nozzle built into the wall that dispensed a viscous, white liquid; Hudson drank an entire bottle full (it tasted terrible) as instructed before moving to the treadmill built into the floor for a cardio warmup.

The long wall on the right side of the gym functioned like a massive screen, providing Hudson with explicit instructions on what exercise to do next, as well as full-size visualizations of how he should do that exercise. If he didn’t quite get above the pull-up bar, or didn’t quite finish that last rep of a set, the interactive screen could tell and would let him know. It was like the gym itself was his personal trainer. Before moving on to the next exercise, he had to complete the instructions for the current exercise and get the gym to sign off on it.

After finally completing all of the exercises, Hudson was sweaty and covered with a black sheen of ichor. There was no way he was wiping off the equipment; he was too tired. He didn’t even see a towel or cloth to do so.

Unfortunately his half-sentient gym wasn’t completely done with him; a coffin-like pod popped open in the corner of his gym. He had kept up his Engine Breath technique for the entire workout, but had let it cease when he had finished his last rep and gone over to choke down another bottle of the foul-tasting nutritional goo. Now the gym screen was telling him to start his technique back up again (and that it was critically important he do so) before hopping into the coffin.

It wasn’t technically a coffin; the gym screen called it a hyperbaric oxygen chamber. It just looked like one.

Hudson gingerly lay down inside the chamber, his breathing technique steady. With the practice carrying the wheelbarrow earlier in the day, and now while conducting his Physical Fitness Program, he had grown a lot more confident and at ease with performing his breathing technique while doing other things. He practiced changing the tempo slower or faster, depending on the amount of physical strain he was under, to better match the output that he needed. Slow and steady on the calisthenics, fast and hard when squatting more weight than he’d ever dreamed of squatting before.

The lid of the hyperbaric oxygen chamber slid shut and the atmospheric pressure inside of the chamber began increasing dramatically. Hudson’s ears popped several times before stabilizing. As he cycled his breathing technique, he could feel the accumulated lactic acid ease out of his muscles. His body’s natural healing processes were accelerated by the increased atmospheric pressure and greater amount of oxygen in the hyperbaric chamber, and multiplied even more so by his cultivation technique.

He lost track of time, but when the chamber chimed and the lid opened up, he staggered out and into the shower. After a quick scrub and rinse, he changed into new clothes (magically appearing on his bed, folded neatly; his old and dirty outfit disappeared to someplace unknown) and collapsed into bed for a few hours of sleep.

The next day came quickly, and started the same as the previous one.

“The evening free period for participants will conclude in fifteen minutes.” Hudson’s eyes popped open at the announcement, and he jumped out of bed awkwardly, falling to the ground.

Despite the very long day yesterday and the short sleep cycle, Hudson was feeling surprisingly fresh and ready to go. He wasn’t sore at all, aside from a few twinges in his hamstrings, which he was rather shocked at.

He took a few minutes to stretch a bit, and double check the contents of his rucksack. He felt prepared today; he had a plan, and an inkling of a path to get stronger and get out of this trial. The anger and rage he’d struggled with his whole life was starting to turn into something different; something productive that refused to let him be passive and helpless.

Based on what he had read, there were steps to the trial – the sigils – and they required mining resources. For what reason the participants had to do the mining, he didn’t know or even care, at this point. But he could mine the magic rocks, earn trial merits, trade in the trial merits to make himself stronger, unlock the sigils, let those cheaters from S.E.C.T. grab the sigils if need be, and then complete the trial.

He certainly didn’t like the other options: staying for basically a year or half of the participants dying. Neither sounded very attractive.

Once he got out of this trial, he’d need to get away from S.E.C.T. as well, and for that he would need to be personally stronger. He was confident, or at least hopeful, there were places on Earth where he could get away from cameras and surveillance and the AI helping S.E.C.T. control the world from the shadows.

“Please exit your rooms and stand in the hallway facing the opposing wall.”

Hudson exited his room and lined up along with all of the other participants. He craned his neck looking down the hallway, and was relieved to see Clara standing outside of her room as well, looking perfectly fine and healthy. If she was still suffering from the wounds she’d received yesterday, she didn’t show it.

“Day 2 assessments are complete. On each day, your progress through the trial will be measured, judged, and rewarded. Please review your assessment.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Hudson’s assessment appeared on the wall across from him. There were a few changes from the initial assessment.

Trial Day 2

Name: Hudson Appleseed

Age: 22

Rank: 33 -> 10

Cultivation Stage: Breath (Lower)

Cultivation Technique: Unknown

Overall Physical Fitness: 3 (Low)

Strength: 2 (Very Low)

Flexibility: 4 (Standard)

Dexterity: 3 (Low)

Endurance: 2 (Low) -> 3 (Low)

Visualization Training: Step 31

Trial Merits: 2 -> 7

Progress to next Sigil Challenge: 79%

There were a few major changes from the first day of the trial. Hudson’s rank had gone from 33 – near the very bottom – all the way up to rank 10. The assessment also included the stats from his Physical Fitness Training, and it was showing an improvement in his Endurance. It was only from 2 (Low) to 3 (Low), but it was an improvement. As with many things, how that information was collected or determined was a mystery.

His progress from the previous day in terms of Visualization Training was also recorded in his assessment, as well as the relative progress to the next Sigil Challenge that he had discovered in the free information packet. It was clear that the trial was very much oriented towards participants figuring things out on their own first: a key example was the trial rewards only showing what was available to purchase with the current amount of merits available.

One thing Hudson didn’t quite understand was why his Trial Merits had increased from 2 to 7. He had spent most of them the previous evening, and obviously hadn’t done any challenges to warrant an increase.

After reviewing their assessments, the participants all filed down the hallway. If the agenda for the day continued the same as the previous day, they would have a Challenge before breakfast. Perhaps it would be another battle royale. Hudson hoped not. There had to be better Challenges.

After a short walk the participants spilled out into a much larger space then they’d had for the previous day’s Challenge, and it was immediately clear today’s Challenge would be much different.

The room was about twenty feet wide, forty feet tall, and perhaps a few hundred yards or more in length. There were steep mounds of dirt to climb over, pits with narrow bridges, various ropes and swings, pools of water, and many other variations on difficult terrain to cross.

It was an obstacle course.

Hudson sidled over to where Cor and Vince were standing next to each other already.

“Mornin’, Hudson,” Cor greeted him, with perhaps a little too much pep in his voice. Vince just nodded; his hair was tousled and he looked like he could use a few more hours of sleep. Or a few cups of coffee, one or the other.

“Hey guys,” he said. “Looks like the Challenge today is different.”

“Sure is. Looking forward to it, actually. Reminding me of my basic training days – really taking me back,” Cor said.

Before they could speak more, the director’s voice cut in.

“Today’s Challenge is a race through an obstacle course,” the director said. “All participants are required to participate in the Challenge. The first place finisher will receive 10 trial merits; second through tenth place will receive 5 trial merits; all other finishers within a time limit of 10 minutes will receive a single trial merit.

“As a reminder of rule #3: during this Challenge, you may hinder the advance of other participants, but no major wounds, including but not limited to unconsciousness, dismemberment, or more than moderate blood loss are permitted.

“Please advance to the starting line. Do not advance beyond the starting line prior to the signal.”

A yellow line formed on the floor, stretching wall to wall. Hudson, Cor and Vince walked up to the left side of the line, next to the wall. There was enough room for about a third of the participants to line up side by side directly behind the line.

Cor had secured a spot in the front, with Hudson and then the still-sleepy Vince behind him. There was some scuffling, and a number of people in the back started pushing and shoving their way to the front. A tall man that Hudson recognized as being in the cheater group elbowed him in the ribs on the way by, but Cor wasn’t going to roll over so easy.

As the man’s shoulders brushed up against his, Cor leaned to the side out of the way. Slightly unbalanced after meeting a lack of resistance, the tall man stumbled slightly – directly onto Cor’s outstretched leg. The man tripped and fell, one of hands crossing over to touch the ground on the other side of the yellow line.

“Participant Kenji Abe, you have failed to follow specific directions and have violated the Second Rule by crossing the yellow line prior to the start of the race Challenge.”

The tall man, whose name was apparently Kenji, scrambled back across the line.

“Violation: false start. Corrective action: tier 0. Participant Kenji Abe, you are penalized by adding 1 minute to your time in this Challenge.”

Kenji stood up and balled his fists. He stared straight into Cor’s eyes, his face a mask of rage. Cor stared back, a cocky grin on his face, his hands loose and ready at his side.

Fortunately the director started a countdown for the race immediately.

“3…2…” Hudson remembered to start up his Engine Breath technique. He also surreptitiously moved his right foot forward and to the right just a bit.

“1… Begin.”