One of the best ads I’ve ever seen was on a porn site. I was doing my thing, living life, not hurting anybody, when out of nowhere, I saw a picture of a nerdy “incel” looking fellow, captioned:

THIS UGLY SON OF A BITCH

IS FUCKING SUPER HOT CHICKS

And basically, you are fucking stupid

→[ Click here ]←

What the fuck?? As an American, I was raised on a hearty diet of burgers, hot dogs, french fries, and corporate ad campaigns. I thought I’d seen it all - until this masterpiece assaulted my senses.

And yes, obviously, I clicked the link. My laptop was old, so if it got cyber-AIDS I could just buy a new one. Unfortunately, nothing happened. I don’t even think they were selling anything - it was all just some kind of twisted social experiment that the elites were conducting on lonely young men. What happens when you give ten thousand antisocial male outcasts a faint glimmer of hope, and then immediately rip it away? Find out tonight on CNN - your nightly source for all acts of unspeakable violence!

Calling it irresponsible doesn’t do it justice. They’re on a deliberate mission to slowly drive the public insane so that we loser our empathy and-

“Whoops, my bad.” said Sylvana, looking completely unconcerned that she’d tortured an innocent man.

“Can I at least get an apology?” I pleaded.

“Let’s just start over. My name is Sylvana.” the elf girl said, extending her hand.

I reached out, but immediately thought better of it. Sylvana grinned at my wariness.

“Weren’t you listening?! I’m off the list! So just… treat me like a human being!”

“The circumstances are suspect. You’re still a pig until proven not a pig.”

“I’m not a pig!”

“That’s just what a pig would say.”

“I am a pig.”

“So you admit it.”

“That’s not… never mind!” I huffed.

That’s what I call a bitch 22.

“So, if the girl wasn’t offended, does that mean you had sex?” Spud butted in.

“I had sex once.” Beck boasted.

“Your hand doesn’t count, dumbass.” replied Spud.

“It does if you put lipstick on it.”

“Ohhh, I didn’t know that.”

I groaned internally.

Do I stay here and endure this, or do I just go take the ass-whooping that’s coming to me?

The Adventuring class was milling around in the dirt arena in the center of the Coliseum. The first frost of the season had set in overnight, but that wasn’t going to stop our first lesson in combat. I shivered in the brisk early morning air. On the other side of the arena, Burt and Clayton were doing some kind of ridiculous skipping calisthenics routine to warm up - he hadn’t broken eye contact with me the entire time.

“Morning class!” Ms. Brooks announced. “Who’s ready to learn to fight!?!”

“Yeah!...” one guy in the back trailed off half-heartedly.

“Good enough!” continued Ms. Brooks, undeterred. “But first, can anybody tell me what the difference is between adventurer combat and military combat?”

“Adventurers fight against monsters, soldiers fight against people.” Burt shouted out.

“That’s right, Mr. Harvestar! Sadly, while the purpose of this training is to prepare you for combat against the crazy critters that fall out of the sky or emerge from the earth, it would be too dangerous to have you fight against them here. As such, most of the fighting you do this year will be right here in this arena, against other humans! As wanderers, you’ll no doubt run into bandits at some point or another, and many adventurers often make their way into the military, so beginning your combat training against other people is always a good starting point!”

A few of the guys in class started muttering. Something about wanting to kill a ground dragon.

Great, add that to my list of things that I never want to run into.

Next, Ms. Brooks introduced the four styles of combat that we’d be trained in:

1. Short-Arms - for engaging enemies in the maze of caverns beneath the killing field.

2. Long-Arms - for engaging enemies in wide open spaces.

3. Archery - every fight should start with an arrow, if possible.

4. Unarmed - as a last resort, if you’ve been ambushed, or disarmed.

Or if you’re at a bar and some guy slaps your girl’s ass.

“We’re going to teach you all of these styles of combat this year - by the time we’re done, hopefully you all will know your strengths, or lack thereof! There’s nothing wrong with being weak - but if you don’t know that you’re weak, you will die. Do not take this training lightly. Any questions?”

Burt raised his hand. “What are we starting with?”

Damn, he’s talkative today…

“Great question! We have trainers for all four styles here today!” said Ms. Brooks, gesturing to four older adventurers who had been standing beside her. “And how about that - there are four members in each squadron. What a coincidence! Each member should choose a different discipline to start. We’ll be rotating every few days. And starting now, this training is daily! As adventurers, survival is your most important challenge, and combat is the second-most important part of that!”

With the preamble out of the way, the students divided up into groups. I looked over my shoulder - sure enough, Burt was looking right back. So I hung back, while the rest of the class made their selections. Eventually, the one guy in Burt’s group that I didn’t know made his way over to the unarmed combat group, and I followed. But then, just when the groups were about to disperse, Burt signaled to his teammate, and they abruptly switched places.

Fine, that’s how you want to play?

I signaled to Sylvana.

She signaled back - by sticking her tongue out.

Burt saw everything. I swear, I’m a one man fucking show for this guy.

Maybe if I turn around and bend over, he’ll go easy on me…

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The unarmed combat instructor was a hard-faced middle-aged guy with a weird name.

He herded us into one corner of the Coliseum to separate us from the other groups, and wasted no time getting started.

“Alright, is there anyone here who has never thrown a punch before?” he asked in a deep, commanding voice. “Don’t be-”

He stopped short as my hand went up. Sad but true. This got a couple more snorts out of my classmates. My instructor, on the other hand, was all for it.

“Very good! That was the correct answer. None of you have thrown a punch before, because I haven’t taught you how! I bet half of you virgins can’t even tell me if the thumb goes on the outside or the inside!”

I snorted. Finally, a teacher with some balls.

“Our first lesson is simple - I’m gonna prove to you all that you don’t know shit! Pair up! We’re gonna run a little tournament.”

Unable to conceal his eagerness any longer, Burt grabbed my arm like we were a fucking new-married couple and marched us to the center of the group.

No way is this instructor gonna let this happen - this jackass is twice my size, AND I was the humble one who admitted-

“Alright! You two first!”

Till death do us part.

I gulped.

----------------------------------------

I walked into the bar, filled with the usual apprehension known to pickup-artists as approach anxiety. It was a normal Saturday - I’d gone out by myself and was summarily rejected by every woman within rejecting distance. Things were looking down. But the liquid courage was running strong. I quickly espied a super hot blonde girl sitting in the corner by herself.

Boyfriend in the bathroom? Whatever. He’ll take his shit, and I’ll take his girl!

I strolled on past her, but right when I got within striking range, I just so happened to notice a pretty pendant that she was wearing. Oh, you’re a Pisces? Me too! ahahahaah etc. etc.

“You’re a pretty funny guy!” she giggled after a bit of back-and-forth, smiling, her eyes inviting me in. No douchebags had accosted me yet…

Is this girl… single!?

“Humor is just social dominance - and laughter is submission.” I said playfully. Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck that was supposed to mean. I put one of my fingers in her mouth. Like everything up until now, this was a compliance test.

“Do you like funny guys?”

She nodded her head, and started sucking on my finger.

“Do they turn you on?” I pressed, putting a hand on one of her thighs.

She nodded her head again, and started nibbling.

Oh my god, this is happening! YES! I WIN!

I looked at her, impregnating the moment with sexual tension. And then, right as I retrieved my finger, and was about to go in for the kiss…

“Slow down, you ugly son of a bitch.” the super hot chick teased, taking a mirror out of her purse. She held it up to me, showing my reflection. I was…

The ugly son of a bitch! From the ad!

----------------------------------------

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I screamed as I woke up.

Sylvana was kneeling over me, a soft pink light retreating back into her palms.

“It’s okay, the big bad meanie isn’t going to hurt you any more.” she consoled, smirking.

I tried to think of something that would make her realize how little her woman opinion meant to me… but I was still kinda disturbed.

Burt and I were definitely paired up… and I think what happened was… I planned to dodge his first strike, throw him off with a jab, and finish him with one of THESE!

My right arm twitched in an unconvincing hook motion.

…but I guess that isn’t what happened…

“Winner: Burt!” the instructor announced.

Burt whooped in victory. One of the larger kids in our group was groaning on the ground. The rest of my group was gathered around the two fighters, though it looked like the other three groups of adventurers had already left the arena. A few of my classmates started clapping. Just another day in the life of a champion.

“Congratulations on winning the tournament, Burt!” he continued. “Do you know why you won?”

“Yeah! I’ve been fighting since I was a kid. Never ran from anyone, even if I was outnumbered!” Burt gloated.

“That’s completely… wrong!” the instructor belted. Burt paused, uncertain.

“You won because you’re a little bit bigger than the others. Congratulations on being big! Your technique wasn’t anything special! But you’ve done a good thing today - you’ve shown all these other kids that they’re weak. Which is why I’m giving you a prize. For winning today’s tournament of losers - you get to fight me! On Guard!”

The instructor pushed Burt away from him and assumed a boxing stance.

Burt was slow on the uptake, but he eventually put his hands up as well, a loose attempt to mirror the instructor. The two were of roughly equal stature - this would be Burt’s first match of the day against someone his own size.

Not talking so much now, are you, big guy?

I glanced around the arena, looking for a popcorn vendor.

Damn. That would’ve made this bullshit day almost worth it.

The two advanced on each other - and in an instant I knew what Burt was going to do. Duck the first strike, then hit ‘im with the ol’ one-two. I grinned. It’s embedded deep within the male psyche - an arrogant confidence that you can win any fight. Then one day you get punched in the mouth, and you wake up. I was awake now, but I realized that Burt was still dreaming.

In a flash, the teacher threw his first punch. Burt ducked it. Problem was, the first punch was a jab - the instructor hadn’t really committed to the movement. Before Burt could recover from ducking, the instructor… hit ‘im with the ol’ one-two, and down went Burt. It was a couple of gut shots, so after a few moments of wheezing Burt was back on his feet.

“You didn’t even try to guard!” the instructor jeered. “I could have shattered your jaw if I’d wanted to - but I didn’t! Because I still need you conscious! We’re gonna fight two more times! On Guard!”

Burt reluctantly put his hands up again - they were trembling this time.

The instructor advanced quickly this time, and Burt barely had time to throw a punch before he was tackled to the ground. After a quick scramble, the instructor latched onto one of Burt’s arms and contorted it painfully.

“Aaaah!” Burt screamed as the fight left him.

The instructor relinquished him with a rough shove and stood back up.

“One more time!” the instructor shouted. “Or if you’re done, just stay down there. The janitors can clean you up.”

Burt huffed in fury and got back up. He shouted and charged the teacher, guns blazing. He threw a series of punches at the teacher, who dodged some of them and guarded others before delivering a quick hook to the dome, and down went the sack of potatoes.

It happened so quickly that I could barely follow what had happened - but I knew one thing.

This guy knows his shit!

The man himself turned to address the group one last time.

“That’s the lesson for today: You’re all weak! The strongest person among you is weak! If we sent you out to the killing field today, they’d have to rename it the slaughter field! Class dismissed.”

On that cheerful note, we disbanded - leaving Burt to continue his nap in the dirt.

I wish I could capture this moment and frame it…

“You there. Can I speak to you for a second?” the instructor beckoned to me.

After everything I’ve just seen… is that even a question?

I walked over obediently.

“You must be Bradley, the Calderan?”

“Yeah, but you can call me Brad.”

“Greetings, young’un.” the instructor responded. Now that he wasn’t in drill sergeant mode, his demeanor changed from overbearing to just curt. “I wanted to discuss those shackles of yours, since they directly impact my training. You’re not able to remove them, correct?”

“That’s correct, yes.”

As we spoke, Sylvana crept up, listening intently.

“Alright, pay attention: you are not to use those shackles as weapons during our training - no sweeping kicks with the ankle shackles and no hooks using the wrist shackles. Enough people are going to get hurt as-is, so I don’t want you running around breaking bones unnecessarily. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Though it’ll be awhile before I’m much of a threat to anybody.”

Drathan raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say that. One lucky hit with a shackle, and this poor boy wouldn’t have had a chance.” he said, gesturing to Burt.

“He’s twice my size!” I said, voicing a complaint that I’d had from earlier.

“And you had brass knuckles. It didn’t matter today, but with a bit of training, it will.”

“Mythril knuckles, technically…” I muttered, though it wouldn’t have helped my case.

The instructor nodded and bid me and Sylvana farewell. As soon as he was out of earshot she turned on me.

“You’re really Calderan?!” she asked incredulously. “I thought you were just some runaway slave…”

“Nope. Greetings from planet Earth. We come in peace.” I said, holding up a peace sign.

“Maybe that’s why… no…” she trailed off. “...can you help me move this guy? He’s pretty heavy.”

We dragged Burt’s carcass over to the edge of the arena and propped him up against the wall. He was breathing fine, so Dr. Sylvana projected a full recovery. As I watched, she held his head between her hands and applied a small pulse of healing power. Then, she gave him a much larger hit, and he came to, startled.

“Shrimp?!” he asked, startled. “I thought I sent you off to bed early!”

“I woke up, thanks to this talented young lady.” I said, gesturing to Sylvana. “You should thank her - she just saved you from permanent brain damage.”

“You should get some more rest, Bradley. Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day.” he menaced, levering himself off the ground and walking awkwardly out of the arena.