3/20/54

ALEXANDER GALDUR

I trained even harder than before with the previous item on the checklist being “Throw 50 proper jabs,” and the current one said, “Throw 100 proper jabs.” I hadn’t known how long I'd been training, but I felt the discomfort of dehydration in my clouded mind with every throw of an improper jab telling me it had been too long. Just as I was thinking I should stop and take a break, the sudden noise of a crumbling wall sounded behind me.

I achingly turned my head to see what the ruckus was about, and there were three bottles of water on the ground and a quickly sealing wall. I didn’t know how they predicted my needs, but at the moment, I didn’t care. Behaving like a feral animal, I rushed towards the bottles, sometimes leaning too far forward and having to use my arms to catch myself. Greedily grabbing one of the containers, I fumbled to untwist its lid, and I brought the water to my parched throat

Water slid down my gullet and washed over my sticky but dry mouth. The soothing cool of liquid fell down my throat into my stomach, and I collapsed in pain, agony, and relief. I figured that this was how my training would most likely be since the first day, pain and agony, so I was quite welcome to the relief from that flavorless nectar. I filled my stomach more, quickly moving to inhale the half of another bottle.

With half the resources they provided me gone, I preserved the rest, knowing they may not give me anymore. With the liquid stored in a corner of the dirt room, I went back to the checklist. The two things after “Walk and jab” were just repeats of the normal jab, and I assumed that the things after that was more training for the jabbing while on the move.

With one last swift strike from my left hand, I heard the pleasant noise of another part of the checklist crumbling away. I continued on with the next part, and just as I had thought, now I had to successfully get jabbing while moving down to a science. Now, as the necessary steps needed for this were more complex, that means I had to work even harder for even longer.

WIth a careful move and jab, I checked the checklist for any change. Nothing. These parts were different from the instructions before. After the instructions, they had a little counter next to it saying whether I had successfully done the step or not. In this case I had not as the zero to the left of the slash and fifty had not changed at all.

An exasperated sigh came from my tired lungs, and I slowly, carefully repeated the step. Something felt right about this, but as I had learned before, trying to trick it by doing the move very slowly would not work. I did it just to get a feel for what I had to actually do. Moving quicker now, my fist jutted out, and my leg soon followed. Pulling my arm back, I brought my other leg into position behind the first, making sure they stayed the same distance apart as when I had started.

I did all this as quickly as my confidence would allow. Going too slowly meant it wouldn’t register, but going too quickly would screw up my form. I had to find the perfect speed to go quick enough to have it count, but slow enough that my brain could still control the movements with precision. I heard the sound of something on the checklist changing, and my lips curled into a small smirk.

I repeated it again, failing this time, but the try after that had been correct. I repeated this, getting better form and movements along with muscle memory and increased proficiency, but I was also getting worse as exhaustion accompanied my every move. Unlike when I was practicing my jabs however, I had a tool to make things better. Temporarily stopping, I walked back to that corner with the water, and I gulped down the half of the water left from the previous bottle.

I walked into place and started training once more, letting the cold sensation of water spread throughout me. Honestly, the water wasn’t that cold, probably only lukewarm, but to me and my overheating body, it was a godsend from the arctic.

After what must’ve been a little less than an hour, I finally got past it and moved onto the next option.

“‘Straight cross,’ huh?” I thought to myself out loud. I think I’ve heard of that before way back when; isn’t it part of the essential toolkit of the boxer? Alright, so once I do this, I’ll be able to throw a jab, hold a stance, move, move while jabbing, and throw a straight cross. Slowly but surely, I’m learning, and my arsenal is increasing.

I quickly got into position, legs spread my shoulder’s length, fists curled up with my thumb on the bottom, head tilted down, hands near my chin, left part of the body in front of the right. Ready.

Following the instructions, this time instead of my left arm, I punched with my right. Learning from the jab, as my fist pistoned out, it curved so that it was parallel to the ground. I struck out and pulled back in, and just as I’d expected… The checklist did not confirm my victory! Fuck! Okay, what happened?

I looked over it again, immediately spotting my mistake. In the picture, a small line and arrow curled around the leg, showing the foot going from pointing out to pointing in. If these steps are so damn important, why did they make the details describing them so small!?

Exhaling a deep, frustrated sigh, I got back into the correct form, and I once more repeated the moves. This time, I made sure my fist twisted, and my right foot curled in. It felt more satisfactory this time, something just feeling right about the movements. Signifying my correct form, the checklist marked it off, and I saw the next target: “Throw 50 straight crosses.”

I repeated the movement once more, but as I was in the middle of the punch, the walls shook and crumbled. The dirt of the ceiling receded as the walls fell away into the ground, soon revealing all the other trainees who were also practicing their own martial arts. I had to force myself to stop while my fist sped to the face of a girl my age or older. Blonde hair, perfect, porcelain skin, slightly baby-faced, enraged. Yep, yep, this was the girl who was glaring at me before.

“Oh, u-um,” I stuttered out nervously, “sorry, let me just, uh, back away.”

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Hands up, embarrassed, and all too worried, I backed away with my arms raised slightly in the air. She simply held still, focusing all her might into boring a hole through me with her eyes. She looked like she’d happily commit first degree homicide if it meant that I was no longer part of this world. I carefully walked to where I kept the water, laughing nervously to myself the entire way.

I crouched down to pick up the bottles, and thankfully, she decided to head over to Trainer Masako instead of spending her time scowling at me. I soon followed after, downing all the water on me. I urged my tired and aching muscles to pull me forward, and I was soon sitting next to Deimos on the comfortably cool, metallic floor.

Trailer Masako had already shortened her pillar; now, she was comfortably sitting on a throne of rock watching over us. She snapped her fingers, and suddenly, ten platforms of stone and rock swirled into existence. How much energy did Trainer Masako have!? Trainer Masako looked down from her throne, looking not any more tired, “Alright, the next part of this will be sparring. There are fifty-five of you, so you’ll be divided into groups of eleven. It’ll be a free-for-all kinda thing because when you’re out there, don’t expect the enemy to play fair. Understood? Great, now get to it!”

With her demand, signs started forming for each platform. On each sign was a list of eleven names which dictated which platform you belonged to. There were numbers on each platform, listing from one to ten. I was on platform six, and thankfully Deimos was part of this group. Of course, this meant I’d have to fight him, but at the very least, he was around!

I scanned through the people on the list: Elizabeth Grant, Michael Zuckerburg, Percival Cobb, Dominic Coleman, Penelope McGee, Paul Frost, Sarah Knight, Liam Gill, Sarah Dennis. Zuckerburg, huh? Isn’t that the last name of the guy who created Meta? Were they related? Oh, there are the others!

Eventually, we all gather up on different points of the arena. I notice the variety of people in the area, one of which includes the guy with the flaming sword from when I first went to training. He still had the wooden sword, but it lacked the previous flames. Wasn’t this supposed to be hand-to-hand? I guess what she meant was that we couldn’t use magic; whacking each other with sticks though seemed fine.

I take note of the few other people with weapons. One girl who looked especially strong was wielding a horse-decapitating sword; it was the weapon that the anime buster swords were based off of. As the name implies, they were used for horse decapitation during times of war, and just like another thing the name implies, they were quite heavy. Seeing her, however, didn’t allow a thought of doubt to enter my mind being her skin was barely wrapping around her bulging muscle.

My eyes fell on one other person. Blonde hair with streaks of yellow and blue, red, thin lips, perfect, porcelain skin, and slightly baby-faced. Yep, she was one of the members of platform six. Great.

The other members of platform six didn’t stand out too much to me; the fire-sword guy wouldn’t have if I hadn’t seen him before.

Suddenly, the blonde-haired girl spoke up in an assertive and somewhat-cocky tone, “We’ll be doing a free-for-all. The last person standing will get the point for the round. If you get downed, you can choose to get back up and join the fight, but don’t get too confident.” We all nodded our heads, agreeing it was a good plan. She sent one final scowl at me before speaking up once more, “On three we go: one, two, three!”

Her shout was set loose, and we followed along shortly after. I calmly stayed in place. If I stood on the edge, I would be able to have a full range of view of the others. I watched as everyone else collided in the center. Swords were swung, fists were thrown, and damn was the muscular woman’s blade ever terrifying. She swung it around with no ease, but instead, it was slicing through the air with practiced precision and proficiency. Even while she was strong, it was still a big sword; using it would not be easy.

Deimos ran in with two batons, one for each hand, and he struck with the speed and instincts of a natural hunter. He ran around, speeding by others, hitting them in every weak-point he could take advantage of. Two people dropped down from this racing menace, and two others, one of them being flame-sword guy, were back-to-back while fending him off. Then, something else struck.

Like lightning, the blonde-haired girl joined the fray. With her short reach caused by her short stature, she instead focused on moving quickly like Deimos. Instead of him however, who ran like the wind, she was direct with her approach, only having to make extra movements to throw off her enemy’s aim. With quick hand movements she struck her opponents body, moving like a professional the same as Deimos. In the end, a few people were left. The muscular woman, Deimos, the blonde-haired girl, some other guy I hadn’t taken note of, and me.

I was still standing in my corner, completely frozen still from terror, but familiar instincts from living in the alleys told me what to do. We all seemed to focus on each other, realizing there weren’t many opponents left. A few had tried to get back up, but when they hopped back into the fight, they were thrown into dismay by the monsters left on the battlefield. The thought struck me again, that I, a street rat with no formal training, or training in general, was amongst these monsters.

My body tensed while I waited for the others to make a move. One second passed. Two seconds passed. Then, a flash of yellow, blue, and blonde shot towards me. My brain found itself unable to comprehend the speed as I was swiftly struck in the side. I felt an intense wave of pain surge through me, running up and down my body, tingling from that single spot in my side. A few more strikes hit me, and I barely held on as my body shrieked at me to lie down.

I refused to go down just like this, so I did the one thing my training told me to. I threw out a jab. I managed to feel my fist connect with flesh, and accepting that as my victory, I hit the floor hard. Satisfied with my poor performance, I let myself lay there while listening to the cursing of the blonde-haired girl I landed the punch on.

I looked up, raising my head to see the small war that was taking place, and I watched the rest of the battle unfold from there. Deimos was rushing about nimbly, leaping to different places all around the muscular woman with ease. With disorientating and unpredictable movements, and while she did her best to hit him, she ultimately found herself failing to predict where he’d be next. While he danced around her, he was also swiftly swinging his batons, battering her until the pain was too much and she conceded. That left himself, the blonde-haired girl who was gripping her nose, and… nope that was it! Turns out the guy from before also got knocked down

While she was still distracted, Deimos rushed in and took her down. Deimos stretched out a bit, “Guess that’s a point for me.”

“Why weren’t you that good with the ARO member?” I groaned.

“She took me by surprise!” He countered defensively.

I stretched out from off the ground, “Sure, so do we go back to our starting spots”

“Yeah.” Deimos confirmed before walking back to his spot. I noted that while we waited for the next round to begin, the blonde-haired girl was still glowering at me. She just had to be one of the better fighters, didn’t she? This was going to be a long sparring session.