Have you ever questioned your own reality?
Is this world real?
What about the people, are they real?
Am I...
real?
Before everything that had happened, I was sure.
I was certain that I was living a real life, in a real world made up of real people.
No! I had to be certain that everything was real.
IT.
HAD.
TO.
BE.
REAL!!!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Now I ask myself the same question again.
Is this world real?
Thwack
A stinging sensation burst across my arms as I desperately blocked another punch.
Thwack
Then another.
Thwack
Sneaking a glance through the gap between my arms, I waited for the moment when my opponent would either exhaust himself or show an opening in between his barrage or even stop for a moment.
Instead, I saw.
A whitish smog rising from his small body. As a small amount of this smog gathered toward his right hand, covering it slowly and taking on a light-greyish tone.
Then—
like a lightning strike, something broke through my guard.
Hitting me dead in the center.
My legs skidded backward, as I was barely able to keep my balance. Somehow I had endured. But it was not my legs that were the problem.
I couldn't breathe!
A punch with that amount of force had hit me directly in the chest. It was a miracle I was still standing, and not on the ground.
Heaving as my lungs continued to gasp for air, I barely caught a shadow rushing towards me.
I had been waiting for him to rush towards me as I immediately countered with a punch, the same whitish smog exploded out from my body in all direction—wild and uncontrolled.
An explosion of pain rampaged through my entire body, as if someone was stabbing me with thousand daggers. I continued to feel a hammer pounding against my brain.
Gritting through the pain, all I needed was for my punch to reach him.
As a sudden bout of weakness rushed through my body, feeling my punch connect—but the force behind it was not strong enough.
Atleast not enough to stop him.
"Shi—" Immediately on instinct he struck my unguarded chin, knocking me down.
Barely clinging to my consciousness as my surroundings constantly spiraled, I hazily stared at my opponent.
A young child, somewhere around 13, with an army buzz cut, wearing a short-sleeved green shirt with faded cargo pants—something one might expect a soldier to wear during training. But my opponent was just a kid.
Slowly my eyelids started to feel heavier by the moment, my consciousness constantly slipping between being awake and unconscious. Only for my exhausted body to make the decision, as I blacked out.
I was dragged back to consciousness as he roughly shook me awake.
Forcing myself up grunting, I quickly moved my head left and right to check if our instructors had seen me getting knocked out, but the sudden movement sent another wave of dizziness crashing over me.
On instincts my hand shot for my head, trying to stabilize it and to stop the dizziness from overwhelming me, a small hand appeared within my vision.
Gazing up I could also see his body shaking from exhaustion, which he tried to keep under control. A direct result of using Prana when his body still hadn't adapted to it properly.
Using Prana consciously was no joke.
Even harder was to control your scattered Prana and gather enough of it to refine it into a higher tier.
But in front of me was a genius.
He had bruises on his arms from enduring hits, but he was clearly in a better shape than me.
Taking his hands, I shakily try to gather enough strength to get up straight without sending another wave of dizziness through my brain.
I slowly gathered myself, as I responded,
"Well... Andric, you have definitely improved your control."
"You too. I didn't think it was possible for a Knight's apprentice to control their Prana."
I nodded at his praise.
But the explosion of Prana that came from my body was not the evidence of my control, rather it was the opposite.
It was my incapability to control Prana.
I glanced around to see five other groups of children locked in a similar duel. Every now and then, a whitish smog would be released by a kid just before attacking or defending but unlike Andric's control over his Prana. Their Prana would not gather around their limb but disperse, barely enhancing their punches or kicks. Wasting their Prana.
The room itself was vast and painted in grey with its ceilings held up by four thick pillars. There were no windows to gaze outside, as it was an enclosed space. Only having two doors that led out of this training room. Against the walls were groups of exhausted and bruised kids, watching the duels with tired yet, relieved expression.
They had already completed their quota of fighting today, we were the last batch. During the dueling session only two instructors would keep a watch over 6 duels happening at once.
Whoosh—
Broken out of my reverie, I immediately leap away from an incoming punch, dodging it barely. Turning my attention back to him.
"What the hell?"
"Let's have another match Brian." he replied, gesturing with his head towards one of the instructors.
He looked just as tired, clearly wanting to take rest. But with instructors breathing down our necks it was not possible, not if you wanted a beating from the instructor.
With a tired huff, I raised my arms to guard against any of his surprise attacks.
He had a nifty footwork, which had taken me by surprise many times. But with each new surprise, I too had learned to predict his unpredictability.
I continued to successfully defend against his attack, whenever he tried to use his Prana I would viciously attack and interrupt him. It was a simple rule, never let a Martial artist gather their Prana.
Unlike him I was walking the path of Knight, so my body was naturally stronger and I could make it even more stronger without consciously controlling Prana, but today that was not what I had planned. If I wanted, I could have easily won just by overwhelming him with my stronger body but for today and days to come. My plan was to train on controlling Prana consciously.
It was the next step I needed to take, if I wanted to become stronger.
I continue to defend against his punches and backing away from his kicks while also ensuring I do not let him expand the distance between us too much, as that would give him time to gather Prana and attack me. Ensuring my loss.
I too tried my best to control my Prana in mid-fight. But as a Knight's apprentice, controlling my Prana was infinitely more harder than a martial artist apprentice.
RINGRINGRING
Upon hearing the bell ring, all the fighting in the training room immediately stops.
All the kids who were sitting against the wall stand up and gather in a file. Even the kids who were just fighting obediently took their place in a file without speaking a word or complaining to take a bit of rest.
We only had two instructors each time the training session happened, as they stood in front of the file. One of them began to call out numbers.
"Cadet 3."
"Yes, Sir!"
"Cadet 4."
"Yes, Sir!"
Slowly the instructor began to call out numbers, sometimes skipping two or three numbers. Until he finally called my number.
"Cadet 21."
"Yes, Sir!"
"Cad....
I turned to look around, counting atleast 30 children. All bruised from fighting, but the discipline had hardened their—no, our bodies to not slack or show weakness when instructors were around. All of them had hardened expressions, trying not to show any hint of pain coming from their abused body. Some tried and failed, but those who were older than average cadet were better at keeping poker face through the roll call.
By the time I had been pondering, the roll call had already ended.
"At ease!"
But no one relaxed until the instructors had actually left the training room.
Watching the metal door close slowly was painful for my aching body but I endured it. As a collective breath of relief and sigh escaped the room, the moment the door fully closed.
Everyone started to disperse. I kept watching as these kids ranging from the eleven being the youngest to fourteen being the oldest, gathered in their own groups. There were no loners here, no lone wolfs.
Everyone was in a group. They had to, if they wanted to survive this place without getting hazed or bullied.
The top performers of each batch were given benefits from better clothing to softer beds and tastier food. This bred a highly competitive environment to become a top performer. A group with one top performer could share his benefits in a limited way with his group after all.
A hand suddenly grasped my shoulder, shaking me awake from daydreaming.
"Urgh! Don't grab my shoulder, it still hurts like hell."
Turning to see, I found it was not Andric but Gio who had grabbed my shoulder. He was a head shorter than average cadet and supporting the same army buzz cut, and cadet clothing. Shaking me excitedly, he opened his mouth saying,
"I saw you! I saw you controlling Prana!"
"No, I didn't control my Prana. That was just my sad attempt at it.", came my pained reply.
Another voice interrupted, belonging to Marcus. He was taller than most of us. As he gave a remark without a change in his expression,
"Hmm..., your control over Prana is shit."
My lips pressed into a tight line, I wanted to complain that it had only been a week since I could even consciously control Prana within my own body. Only for him to continue in his monotonous tone, with a hint of... surprise? I couldn't exactly tell.
"But you are the first Knight apprentice I have seen who can release Prana outside your body."
Everyone in my group looked at him with surprise. For the high and mighty Marcus to give praise was a rarity. Unlike us, he had been here longer than us.
Andric slapped my shoulder, saying "See! You are already doing better than average, Brian. Even the lord Marcus has decided to praise you."
Only for Marcus to mutter the repeated words he had been saying since the day I chose my path, "...but you should have chosen to be a Martial artist instead."
Unlike them I had chosen the path of Knight, as it was necessary to achieve my goal.
We left the training room in a bit of hurry, heading towards the bathroom. Because if we were not quick enough, then all the shower stalls would be occupied by the others cadets, by then not only would we have to wait for our turn but also be late for dinner.
By the time we reached the bathroom for cadets, only three out of eight shower stalls were empty.
"You guys go ahead. I will wait for one of the shower stall to empty."
Andric tries to reasons, "No. You should go ahead. I can wait. After all you are the youngest in our grou—"
I immediately interrupted, "And you take the longest of us, Andric. I am quick. So go and take a quick shower, because I—" observing both Gio and Marcus nod "—we are not going to wait for you to take your sweet-sweet time showering. So be quick."
On hearing he would be left behind if he was slow, he immediately entered one of the empty shower stall. I nod at the other two as they also entered their individual stall.
Glancing around I looked for the basin to wash my face, as sparring had worked up quite a sweat.
SplashSplash
Feeling my fingers run through my face, trying to scrub out the sweat and oil. I face up to look at my own reflection.
A very young face greeted me. An almost foreign face, one which I had come to accept after living in this world for ten years. It had almost been ten years since I saw... shaking my head to clear my mind.
'Hah, I thought I had gotten accustomed to this world, but it seems I still can't wrap my head around it.'
I muttered, "I should have just written a normal fantasy ass novel than this... fuck! I can't even put words to describe this world."
"A world with magic and wonderful other worldly species my ass, I am just stuck in this underground bunker."
I had been training very hard just to survive this place, as our 'Instructors' would send the cadets who couldn't keep up with the minimum requirements to 'another batch' made up of the worst performing cadets to 'Special training'.
And I knew that if I started to lag behind, then I too would be sent to this supposed 'Special training'. And I was not too keen on finding out what this 'Special training' entailed.
It was almost funny, fighting in an underground room, hidden from society's eyes with instructors teaching/brainwashing us, until we followed all their orders like mindless puppets.
This almost sounded like a premise out of a 2000s movie but here we were—a door to one of the occupied shower stall suddenly opened. As a cadet with botches of purple and black bruises on his body walked past me, completely ignoring me. I entered the now empty shower stall.
Turning on the shower, I began to muse on how did I end up here?
Sigh
I was just your average author, who had struck gold during the pandemic with the debut of my novel "Fever War".
Two years after 2020 happened, I had gone to Anime Expo in USA, Los Angeles.
There I met him and...
made a b̸̮̒̑͝e̵̛̪͕͕̾̽̏͜t̶͖̞̩͔́̆̚̚.
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Author's Note: This is a small rewrite to my novel.
I should have written this chapter and then started ch 1. But hey I was a beginner so I didn't know shit.
And the next 5 chs are a bit too long. Currently I am not that skilled to understand and rewrite better chs, but when I do get better and feel confident that yes my first 3 chs can hook readers, I will properly rewrite them. As of now, you guys would need to bear through my not so good beginner level writing.
Well either way 13/4/26 is the date this chapter was uploaded.
(P.S> Still hard to write a beginning.)