James woke up suddenly, his body drenched in a cold sweat. It was not a restful night’s sleep. His dreams, or more often nightmares, had been full of shadowy figures and the ever-present smell of blood. Every time a figure got too close he struggled to wake up, the fear of them being almost overpowering. In the few that weren’t nightmares, it was still entirely too vivid, with him being in a hospital bed. His memory may have been gone, but he knew that this had been a rough night.

I don't think I was a vegetarian, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never killed anything before...

He looked down and his hands were shaking slightly. James took a deep and slow breath. He did it again and again, getting slower each time until he felt some semblance of calm and control take hold of his spirit. He got up slowly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before he went to take a shower. The sound and feel of warm water always seemed to provide a mental break from the rest of the day. As he toweled off and reluctantly got back into his sweat-stained clothes, his stomach rumbled.

Well, I guess that my stomach did not get the memo about being a nervous wreck today. You know what? Stomach, you’ve got the lead today. Brain is clearly over-worked and it’s your time to shine.

The ridiculous thoughts and the shower helped provide some distance from the night before and James felt more centered as he went into the entry room, which he now thought of as the dining room. Prometheus already sat there and looked up as he entered. There was a covered bowl in his traditional spot. He sat down and started eating his fish soup. “I never thought it would be possible to miss oatmeal.”

“Eat up. After today we can vary your diet a little more.” Prometheus didn’t even seem to move with that statement. At least it implied success for today, which was insanely positive coming from mister grouchy-pants. James continued to eat his soup and drank some water to finish it out. He sat back for a moment when it was done and focused on clearing his thoughts while the food settled. Prometheus didn’t say anything, just giving him the time he needed.

After a few minutes, there was no point in continuing, James was as good as he was going to get. He stood and after his teacher did as well, they exited the room. They walked down the hallway and turned right, straight to the red door once again. James had been hoping they would see somewhere new today, but he squashed the thought flat, trying to keep his focus as tight as possible.

As he entered the room he was surprised that almost nothing looked different from the day before. The only change he could see is that the mats had been rolled up and placed along the bare wall. Before he could say anything, the big man spoke up.

“You need to prepare yourself. It is up to you to choose your gear for the day. This is important and I won’t treat you like a child.” There was no humor in his voice today, but he didn't sound bored either. Prometheus was entirely present and serious. This was definitely not a game.

As much as James would prefer to look like a badass before he presumably fought for his life, he went over to the wall and reached for the club and the shield that he used yesterday. The glass parted slightly before he even touched it and despite everything, he smiled at just how cool magic seemed to be. He pulled them off their hooks and took them back to the center of the room before looking at the armor selection on the other wall.

“I don’t really know anything about armor, but I feel like it might be a good choice today. Is there any way you would help me out?”

Prometheus didn’t smile but he seemed pleased, his body language was a bit less tense. “Armor is a lot like weapons in that if you don’t know how to use it, it’s more likely to get you killed than help you. But, there are a few pieces that could help without being too obstructive." He strode over and picked out a hodgepodge of armor pieces off the wall before coming back to James. “I’ll help you put these on, they shouldn’t restrict your movement too much. After today we’ll do training in armor.”

Wow, two references to me surviving in the same hour. I appreciate the overwhelming confidence there buddy. I just wish I felt the same.

After a few minutes of getting everything strapped and adjusted properly, James stood up and was glad he didn’t have access to a mirror. He had some sort of triple quilted shirt across his torso with a weird leather choker above that. He had long leather bracelets that probably had a name on his forearms and long leather shin guards that also most likely had a name on his lower legs. To round out the hobo ensemble, he had knee-length chaps.

Prometheus was right, the weight was minimal and didn’t seem to change his movements too much. James might not like looking silly, but he knew he disliked looking dead a whole lot more than that. I mean pale bloodless skin and lank hair, no thank you, no late twenties emo phase for him. Prometheus took a step back and looked him over.

“That’s going to have to do. You’re as ready as we are going to get.” His voice takes on a slightly stern tone. “You need to be careful, but you need to be quick if possible. You are only getting one shot at today, so it has to be done right. Stay safe, but the longer your opponents are out of their natural environment, the lower their energy level will drop. You need that energy, so be decisive. I’ll be right back and We’ll get started.” With that being said, he turned and left the room. James sat down and continued to focus on his breathing. The slightly fast, almost panic breaths subsided, leaving him a bit calmer.

Uggghh. I hate waiting. I wonder what he’ll bring out. Slimes? Goblins? Kobolds? Slime-Goblins? Goblin-Slimes? Imps? Bulbasaurs? Ok, now it’s just getting ridiculous. I feel like I should know more things for some reason. I also feel like the things I do know don’t fill me with a large amount of confidence. I can do this. I have to do this. It’s literally do or die, so I’m going to do so hard…..Even in my head that sounded terrible.

This completely unhelpful inner monologue was interrupted as the door opened once again. Prometheus walked in carrying several large clay pots with strapped-on coverings. A nearly person-sized wooden box was strapped to his back. The fact that he showed no strain at all carrying what must have weighed hundreds of pounds really drove home the point that he was not human.

James stood up and waited while Prometheus carefully set down his burdens. He then pulled one of the tall jars out of the group and brought it a pace forward. “Prepare yourself.” With that sage advice, he removed the cap on the jar and dumped it out. Out spilled Jame’s first opponent. A very large and very angry fish began to flop on the floor.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“What the hell man!” James knew he probably shouldn’t be yelling, but his emotions are beyond frayed by the sudden drama seesaw. “You seriously brought in a Magikarp for me to fight? You're getting me that worked up to club a fish?”

“It’s a seabass. A mutated one obviously. You can tell by the teeth.” Prometheus was clearly not impressed. His tone was so dry that it could be a third date for James in high school. Also, that fish had teeth on top of teeth with a side of teeth. The kind that spills out of the mouth all crazy style. “Pay attention and kill it quickly or it will do what every predator does to a warrior that is stupid or inattentive.”

James looked over to see the angry fish pulling itself forward on whatever those side fins are called. It seemed to notice that he was paying attention and abandoned all attempts at stealth. With a massive slap of its tail against the ground, it launched through the air right at his chest. Out of half-formed instinct, he brought his shield up and pushed it to the side slightly. It stung and numbed his arm slightly but the seabass went just past him to his left. It still managed to draw a line across his bicep as it passed, ripping his new quilted shirt but fortunately not hitting flesh.

Getting over his surprise James lunged towards where the fish had landed and was awkwardly turning itself around. Its movements were slightly slower than before and he manages to land a full-strength overhead swing right on its ugly fishy face. The ugly fish was now an ugly angry fish that let out a sound halfway between a cough and a cobra's hiss. Either way, it was creepy enough that he backed off for a second.

That proved to be a mistake as it launched itself at his head with another resounding slap. This time James ducked to the side and managed to let it sail past without incident. Looking over at Prometheus he just saw the big man tapping his wrist like it was a watch. James took the hint and ran over to where the prehistoric fish stick was turning itself around once again. He launched strike after strike, mostly trying to hit the head but if it was thrashing, going for the body blows as recommended. He didn’t even stop when it finally ceased moving.

Suddenly he felt the presence of strange energy forcing its way through his skin and he stopped. As he tried to process what is going on he realizes that it felt like two distinct energies, one warm like a sunny day, and the other very much the chili oil pressure he had unfortunately encountered before. This time though, there was no resisting it and both of them sank straight in and headed towards what felt like the center of his being.

“So I’m supposed to fight angry pike all day?” James knew he still sounded a bit petulant, but today was weird even by his new and improved standards.

“They are seabass, mutated ones.”

“So I’m supposed to fight mutated sea bass all day?”

“Only if we are very lucky. It gets harder after that so you need to be quicker and get as much out of these as you can.” With that statement being made he uncapped another jar and out popped another fish that only an orthodontist could love.

Four fish later and James had the knack of it. If you squared off and waited for the lunge you could bash your shield into its ugly mug and then move in just wail on it fight club style. There wasn’t a lot of skill involved once he got used to it, but they were so damn mean it was still somewhat satisfying.

Prometheus was right though about moving quickly. The faster he killed the fish the more of those paired energies that would enter him. There didn't seem to be a way to measure it, but if he had to guess it seemed like the fish lost about ten percent every minute the fight went on. After the last fish, he sat down, a bit winded. James looked up and Prometheus was gathering the dead fish and putting them back into the jars. With that out of the way, the jars are moved to the side of the room as well.

“Take a minute to rest and try to feel how much energy you’ve gained. From here on out time shouldn’t be an issue so focus on fighting smart.”

As James sat he tried to focus inward. He slowed his breathing and focused on that and his heartbeat to start. It felt like some sort of meditation technique, but he couldn’t tell if it was something he’d learned before or just made up on the spot. Either way, it seemed to help, and right now that was all that mattered. Once he’d held his pulse steady for a minute, he stood up with a solid old man groan.

Prometheus appraised him and nodded. “Are you ready?”

Not trusting his voice, James gave a solid head nod and settled into what felt like a rough ready stance. Prometheus took the tarp off the cage and opened the door all in one quick motion. With a scrabbling of claws on wood, the ugliest pelican he’d ever seen came out and flapped its wings.

The head came as high as his waist and the tips of its greasy-looking feathers are sky blue. It fixed its weird snake-like neon green eyes on him and opened its mouth to let out an unsettling and loud croaking screech. With the mouth gaping open, the differences other than size became apparent. The demon bird's bill was lined with backward-facing needle-like teeth. Its tongue was thick, red, ropy, and looked to be way more prehensile than James found remotely comfortable.

After the screech, the pelican immediately gave a half flap and dove straight at James. He brought his shield up in the path and took a sideways swing with the club. The pelican backed off and hissed like a cat and a giant cockroach made hideous babies.

It darted its neck forward and tried to take a bite out of his shield arm. James moved to the side and lashed out with the targe, making contact with its head. It seemed slightly stunned so he quickly stepped in and delivered an overhead blow before he backed off. The pelican shook its head slightly and narrowed its eyes before it approached again. This time it took a running hop and snapped at Jame's club arm, trying to get those fishhook teeth into anything it could.

James took a half step back and brings his club up in an underhand swing that doesn’t have much power given the angle but did make contact, stunning the bird once again. Feeling emboldened, he jumped forward and tried to go for his signature seabass bash fest and it worked for about two hits before the bird had enough of that move. It backhanded him with a wing and that tongue darted out and managed to cut his cheek before he dove to the side. James scrambled to his feet as the two odd opponents eyed each other.

There was no time for thought, no time for quips or snarky comments. The pain on his face and the blood that dripped down his cheek made his pulse speed and panic try for the reigns once again. Calm down breathing or meditation was not an option as the pelican gave another gurgling screech before it dove at his legs.

James jumped to the side and didn’t immediately retaliate. Its mouth opened and he managed to get his shield up before he felt the surprisingly heavy impact of the tongue. With a roar of his own, he jumped forward and smashed the club down as hard as he could on the top of its head, forcing the beak closed with the worm-like appendage still outside. Operating on pure instinct he put his whole body in line with the shield and linebacker tackled right into the bird. Rolling up he slammed his club down into one of its legs and backed off. He probably could have finished it right then, but overconfidence had almost cost him before and he’d started to learn his lesson.

The pelican stumbled to its feet and slowly retracted its tongue that’s now bleeding steadily from a half dozen puncture wounds. It stumbled slightly as its leg gave out, damaged more than either of them thought by that last strike. Watching warily, James dashed forward and aimed a side-arm strike right for its center mass. The pelican tried to dodge but without its leg, the wing flap isn’t soon enough and it took the hit right in the ribs.

This time when it fell he smashed the head as fast as possible until it finally stopped moving. The deep panic breaths finally subsided into normal breathing as he got hit in the chest with the energy. Even expecting it, this was more than all of the fish put together. Suddenly there was an uncomfortable tightness in his lungs and stomach that starts to turn into the now-familiar burning sensation.

Your core is full. Would you like to initiate advancement to level 1?

State 'Yes' to begin.

“Yes.” That is all he manages to mumble before darkness took him.

It can’t be healthy to pass out this often….