The next morning they came to pick me up; they took me by surprise, as I didn't expect such a fast response.
By the end of the day they had flown me out to a new place, the one where they train most of their explorers and other soldiers.
A whole building was reserved for our use, and I was the first candidate to get there.
I enjoyed the look of envy the other trainees gave me, although in the back of my mind I feared the training I was going to go through would look like total hell compared to what they did.
On the first day there wasn't much to do; first, they made me do a small tour of the place to teach me where the showers were, where we would eat, and lastly, where my room was located.
I spent the rest of the day setting up my room.
The next day is where things started; I was summoned early in the morning to begin a set of tests.
They escorted me into an empty room; on the right side there was a really long table made out of wood, and on the other side of the table, a long line of people was patiently waiting. Some were dressed in suits, and some were dressed in casual clothes.
In front of them, laid on the table, were a bunch of pens and some notebooks.
Strangely enough, there didn't seem to be any cameras installed within that room.
The first one was very simple, a test of strength. They had brought a sandbag and told me to hit it as hard as I could with whatever move I wanted.
Since they didn't say anything about time limits, I guess what really matters here is the form.
I began warming up in front of the instructor to be in my best shape possible before I even tried to strike the sandbag; thankfully, they didn't seem bothered by it.
I readied my arm and took my stance. First I landed a fist using my right hand.
Immediately I felt something strange, a strange cold sensation lingering on my right hand; it appeared the moment my fist made contact with the sandbag.
Huh? What is this?
I repeated the same punch five times, trying to maintain perfect form until the punch made a loud enough sound that satisfied me.
The sensation kept growing, slowly expanding up to my elbow.
Next was trying to hit the sandbag with my knees, but the position was too awkward, so I quickly gave up and instead attempted a roundhouse kick.
I noticed that they would write down something after every blow landed on the sandbag. At first it didn't bother me, but as time passed, it quickly began to irritate me; the sound of them mindlessly scribbling after every attack didn't sound pleasant at all.
Is this also part of the test? What are they trying to see?
The sound of their pen scribbling on the sheets of paper was loudly echoing in my head as my body was slowly growing more and more numb.
I'm sure there are probably a bunch of cameras around; why would they need to hand… wait, why would they need to handwrite rather than just using a computer or any other mobile device?
I tried a spinning kick and waited for them to finish writing whatever they were writing. Then I took some space and tried performing a flying knee, then waited for them to finish.
Are they trying to test my mental fortitude by using demonic powers to scare me? Glad I figured it out early.
The second time they took significantly longer to finish, their cold and constant gaze watching over me was slowly starting to get to me.
With each strike, my body would feel heavier and heavier; my body felt weak and frail as if I were shrinking, while the noise was only getting louder and louder.
Let's see if you can keep up with this then.
Before I could end up losing all my strength, I rushed at the sandbag, throwing a couple of punches; got closer to land a knee strike, then hit using my right elbow; and took some distance to land a low kick, followed by a spinning high kick.
After the high kick I lost my balance and fell to the ground, so I tried to tackle the sandbag, hugged it tight, and desperately lifted it.
Every fiber of my being was screaming in pain as my body was getting weaker by the second, but I paid no mind to it. I simply slammed the sandbag to the ground, ripping the top half of the sandbag and spilling its contents all over the ground.
"Stop!" one of the instructors yelled as I raised my left fist to start raining punches down.
I almost missed it; I was so exhausted and concentrated, I could barely hear anything apart from my gasps of breath.
"Bring in the next prop." Someone shouted.
W-what?! Hey, you still haven't undone this curse; you're not expecting me to continue in this condition?
My hands were still trembling; even the act of simply raising my arms was a pain. It felt as if they had a bunch of weights strapped on them, to the point holding them up was painful.
The next machine the staff brought was a punching machine. It resembled the bust of a human with a dummy body made out of a gelatinous substance; a few extending fists were installed on the shoulders of the dummy as well as on his sides.
"Do your best to not get his." Someone behind me uttered as I watched the staff screw the machine on the ground.
Huh?
It took them not even a minute to finish installing the machine and power it up.
It's easy; all I've got to do is—
"Please step forward." They said in unison.
Step forward! Step forward! Step forward! Step forward!
The voice kept echoing in my head. It was so incredibly loud to the point of almost stopping me from being able to hear my own thoughts.
Deep breaths; take it easy. If its punches are just like regular—
I didn't even have the time to raise my guard, and the machine had already landed a clean hit to my face.
What the—
I staggered backward, almost falling over; the punch didn't actually hurt that much, but the speed left me shocked.
STEP FORWARD! STEP FORWARD! STEP FORWARD! STEP FORWARD! STEP FORWARD! STEP FORWARD!
I get it. Stop!
That voice was only growing stronger with time, and the stronger it got, the more I felt as if it was reverberating throughout my whole body, slowly ripping it apart.
I rushed back inside the punching range of the machine to avoid the voices; this time I raised both my arms to shield my face, only to receive a punch to the guts. The second punch was aimed at my head.
The first punch took me by surprise and took my breath away. By the time the second punch landed, I had no strength to fully block it, so I ended up hitting my face with my own arm.
The third punch was aimed in between the gaps of my arms; I saw the machine adjusting its position, ready to extend itself.
Fuck!
In a desperate gamble, I took a step forward and preventatively ducked under the incoming muck. I wanted to land a punch of my own on the dummy those machines were attached to to break them.
I avoided the first punch but was quickly reminded that the dummy had more than 2 extending fists, as one on the left side landed a devastating counter straight to my face.
I pushed through the pain and still landed a solid punch on the chest of the dummy, my fist sinking into its gelatinous body.
That chilly sensation covering my whole body grew even stronger.
I put my foot on the dummy and pushed myself away before those punches could try to hit me on the head.
Fuck… My body is getting way too heavy.
Since the judges were pretty lenient, I thought I would easily break the dummy and be done with this, but that wasn't so easy; as soon as I hit the dummy, its flesh turned red, its punches got a lot faster, and it began to heal the large hole I left in its chest.
Not good; if this goes on for much longer, I'll end up getting knocked out by that thing. I need to get this over with quickly.
My nose was hurting like hell; I was probably bleeding from it already. I could feel the cold sensation of blood on my lips.
Had that been just a bit stronger or aimed better, I would've been knocked out.
Not all punches were equal; the ones coming from the fists attached to the side of the dummy were much faster and stronger, while the ones attached to the shoulders were a lot slower and weaker.
I tried taking a few steps back to see any potential weak point the dummy had and immediately saw it, a wooden pole on which the gelatinous dummy was installed.
Maybe I could break it with a side kick… just maybe…
I cautiously stepped forward; my arms were crying for how much beating they were taking, so I lowered my guard and tried using my hands to either block or push away those punches, waiting for the perfect opening to land my kick.
The instructor probably saw through my intentions because the next strike the machine landed was on my right thigh.
I was waiting for the fist installed on the right side of the dummy to fire a punch so that I could retaliate without risking a heavy blow to my leg.
After that blow to my thigh I began paying more attention to the fists on the side to avoid a second strike on the leg.
I kept blocking and deflecting punches until one of the machines suddenly turned outside during a punch, taking out 2 of my fingers and bending them backwards.
Both my right pinky and my ring finger were broken.
"Argh! You piece of—" I refrained from swearing in front of those judges.
When that fist finally launched an attack, I turned to the side. I originally wanted to deliver a sidekick, but didn't have the strength to lift my leg all the way, so I opted for a low kick, hitting the square pole with my shin.
I managed to leave a crack but wasn't strong enough to break the pole.
Fuck.
As a last move, I decided to try and tackle the dummy, enduring all the punches it threw at me until I finally reached it, then using whatever strength I had left, I pushed the pole, even putting my own weight into it until it finally broke and we both fell to the ground.
Finally…
I pushed the dummy away and watched as the fists attached to it threw fists at the empty space in front of them.
My whole body was hurting, three of my fingers were bent the wrong way, and I couldn't feel my left leg anymore. I was about to throw up.
I turned around and watched as the examiner was staring at his clock, possibly staring at the countdown on his clock.
I tried using the pole next to me as a support to get back up but failed miserably.
Fuck, why am I still so heavy? I thought I passed the test; no matter how much they wait, those things can't hit me anymore.
I then took in a deep breath before I tried to get back on my feet, only to wake back up on the floor.
"I can get up; just give me a moment!" I shouted to the examiner as I tried to get back on all fours.
My arms were already trembling just from lifting my own weight.
"We can give you five minutes at most." The examiner responded.
Huh? The test is not over yet? How can it still not be over?