Training Hall Three

The Academy

The exhausted students followed Instructor King down the main hallway of the complex and into another cavernous training hall. This one was empty, and circular, the floor adorned with over two dozen twenty-meter circles painted on the ground.

Instructor King spoke as the group trudged along behind her, it had been a very long and tiring day of testing. “This is Training Hall Three, its primary use is for sparing and open combat sessions between teams. Hall One is the first one you went into yesterday. It has a variable environment that will make it the main location of training scenarios. That hall took Professor Eldritch and his apprentices almost two years to prepare, the kind of magical energy in that room is staggering.” She turned to the unnamed healer and nodded her head.

“My name is Instructor Pearson, my job here is twofold: I am the primary healer for the Academy and a secondary combat instructor. So I batch ya up when you get too badly broken.” Laura tried to keep the surprise and confusion from showing. She had often heard the Newfoundland accent described as a speech impediment, but holy hell! “For your last activity today you will be sparing with random members of your class.” We will be spurring random cars?

Thankfully Instructor King spoke next,” When I call each pair of names you will step into the circle we show you to. An energy barrier will be erected around you so don’t worry about a stray shot wounding someone else. Wait for the signal, a bright pulse of light, and then begin the match.”

“Go all out, the Academy has expended tremendous effort to ensure that all matches within each fighting cell will be nonlethal. This is ensured with a variety of technological and magical measures that will stop any fatal attack. In the case of a lethal strike, the target will be rendered unconscious. Matches are ended when one combatant is unable or unwilling to continue, if you wish to end a match simply tap out physically or verbally. If your opponent taps, end combat immediately.” Instructor Pearson spoke more clearly this time, he obviously wanted the students to understand this part.

Pearson looked at the tablet computer he was holding and began calling out pairs of names. As each set of names was called an assistant instructor led them to one of the circles.

“Samir Sudrah and Laura Wakefield, circle six.” Laura and an East Asian boy followed an assistant to the marked-off area. When they stood on opposite sides of the circle the edges of the circle glowed, slightly distorting the view through it.

Dark purple energy began dancing along Samir’s hands and forearms. Laura bounced on the balls of her feet, anxious for the match to begin. When all the student matches were set a bright yellow flash lit the hall.

Laura ran forward but was blasted back by a blast of energy from the boy's hands. Her uniform shirt was burned partially away, smoke rising from the fabric and the burned flesh under it. Samir seemed to relax, the energy dissipating from his hands.

“Too easy.”

“I ain’t done yet hoser.” She stood up, tissue knitting, deep burns clearing from a black to a deep red. Samir raised his hands and unleashed another blast at her. Laura rolled to the side, stood and barely avoided another stream of energy.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

A crackling burst of energy shot across her left arm, burning away tissue and cloth. Laura screamed with the pain. Though her regeneration healed the charred nerves thus alleviating the pain, the initial trauma was still intense.

“Just how fast can you heal?” Samir’s voice grated with his frustration as he unleashed blast after blast at Laura.

She avoided most of the blasts but was still periodically struck, being knocked backwards or down. Each time she popped back and charged at Samir. She had all day. She was sure she could end the fight if she got within striking range, growing up wrestling four big brothers and stubborn cattle on a ranch had given her a pretty good punch.

“So how often do you get a Chinese guy named Elvis jokes?” Phyliss Clayborn stood ten meters from El with a relaxed manner and a grin on her pretty face. She was tall, about his height, and kept her red hair cut short.

El, never exactly the most confident around women shrugged nervously,” Pretty much all the time.” Why did they tell him to fight a woman for his first sparring match? He had been taught that the protection of women and children was part of a man’s duty. Besides he fought as an animal, was he supposed to bite this girl with the bright eyes and infectious smile?

“Lemme guess, never fought a girl before?”

“How..how did you know?” El was just a bit stunned, perhaps she was a mentalist.

“Read it all over your face big guy. We can think about this in a couple of ways: there are some nasty women out there and you may need to put one down hard before she hurts innocent people. Consider that I am here to become a hero like you, which means this training has to push both of us as hard as possible, if we go easy on each other we won’t be prepared as well as we need to be and people will die in the future.”

Damn, that did make sense. “Well, when you put it that way it would seem to be our duty to go after go leave nothing behind in these matches. How long have you been working on that line by the way.”

“Philosophy major at the University of Calgary, we are supposed to sit around and think crap up.”

El looked around and noticed that the last few pairs were being led to their circles, time was almost ready to start the match. His opponent began stretching sore muscles in her arms and legs, something El started doing himself. The day’s testing had been most thorough, getting up early in the morning was going to suck. As he stretched it was impossible not to notice how well her t-shirt clung to the curve of her chest.

Concentrate, or she is going to pummel you! This is a battle. To become a hero I must excel at this, and embrace this training. She is right, I must hold nothing back beginning now. Wolf is not sufficient for what is needed here. I must become more.

His thoughts raced over the animals he had seen and studied. The wolf was the first form he shifted into, the one he was most comfortable being; at times more comfortable being a Wolf than being Elvis.

Yet there was one form he had in him… Three winters ago he and his father had been caught out in a sudden Yukon storm. As the temperature dropped and the snow piled high, the distance back to the house became an impossibility. Father had collapsed under the shocking cold, his body temperature dangerously low. El had pulled him against a fallen pine tree, it cut down the wind but the snow and temperature would still kill both of them before the night was done. While he had been safe as the wolf, he had not been big or warm enough to shelter Father. He had reached into himself and pulled out another animal, a surprise as El had not believed he was capable of becoming more than a timber wolf.

El breathed deeply, reaching into his inner being feeling for the second form he had discovered. He began to pull it to the surface, feel its essence, its being. It was cranky, confident, territorial, and hungry. A brilliant light strobed through the chamber, and as it dimmed El noticed the multiple rings Phyllis wore were slightly glowing from gems inset in them.

He pushed his breath out forcefully and yelled, his yell deepening, growing in volume to become a roar. His body swelled in seconds as she ran towards him, he dropped to all fours, his head expanding in all directions as his torso grew and thick brown hair sprang up along his entire body. His black unitard faded, melding into his skin as the transformation was complete. His jaws hang open and he slammed one massive paw against the hard flooring.

Phyllis slammed to a halt, seven feet from El. “Holy shit Elvis! You turn into a Grizzly?”