I picked my blade up and slashed again, aiming for the dummy’s neck but smacking it in the side of its head.

“Seven. You are trash.”

“Fuck you, Dummy,” I said.

“Fuck you, Dummy,” the dummy repeated, in my voice.

“That’s not funny,” I said.

“You’re not funny,” the Dummy said.

I dropped my sword to my side and looked to my Constructor.

Ezzie said.

I did.

“Five. Three. Strike too weak to register. Strike too weak to register.”

I said. I sat down in the dirt, breathing hard. My shoulder was on fire, and the sword was heavy in my hand.

Ezzie said. It sounded like she was trying not to laugh. I appreciated the effort there, however transparent.

I said.

I said.

At the mention of the nanobots, I realized that my shoulder was buzzing slightly. I grabbed my sword and readied myself for round two.

“Eleven,” the Dummy said. “You suck. Ten. You suck. Nine. You are trash. Seven. You are trash.”

I dropped my weapon and doubled over, hands on knees. I could barely breathe; it felt like my lungs were on fire.

I said.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

A prompt popped up:

Your strength increased by 1!

This point will be awarded when you reach level 6.

1/3 bonus points accrued.

I dismissed the window.

Ezzie said.

I went back to work on the dummy.

Ezzie said.

I grunted between swings.

I said, so caught off guard that I missed the dummy and almost lost my balance.

Ezzie said.

I stopped in place.

Ezzie hesitated.

I said, whirling on the Constructor.

She seemed genuine, as far as I could tell.

I said. Well, if she hadn’t watched the tape already, no doubt she’d go looking for it now. I went back to the dummy.

“Eleven. You suck. Fifteen. You’re a piece of shit.”

I stared at the dummy with wide eyes.

Ezzie said. she trailed off. I could hear her breathing through the link.

I stopped mid-swing and looked at the Constructor.

Ezzie said, in a small, quiet voice.

I took another swing.

Ezzie said.

“Eight. You are trash. Nine. You are trash.”

I swung again, and the sword slipped out of my hands and clattered back into the wall of the forge again. “Oof,” I said. My palms were blistered and sweat-slick; it was a wonder that the sword hadn’t flown free earlier.

Ezzie said.

An image came back to me then, Ezzie standing in front of my cage, her eyeball hanging out of a shattered socket. I said. The words were out before I had time to process what I’d asked.

I felt her shrug through the link.

I said, unsure how to respond to that.

I limped over and reclaimed my sword.

I looked to the Constructor.

Ezzie said.

I cocked my head at the Constructor.