Chapter: The Bitter Taste of Survival
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I awoke to a sudden spark of agonizing pain. My vision was a blur, and a crushing sense of nausea and thirst overwhelmed me. I wanted water at any cost; my thoughts were so heavy I could barely function. As I struggled to gasp for air and plead for a drink, the world slowly came into focus.
A man with a neatly trimmed golden beard and matching hair was hovering over me. He looked as though he was trying to shove something back inside my abdomen. I looked down at my stomach; it was riddled with punctures, and a jagged, brutal gash—nearly the length of my palm—ran along the side of my kidney.
Once the golden-bearded man succeeded in forcing whatever it was back into the hole in my gut, he began pouring a liquid from a vial. Before he could finish, I croaked in a broken voice:
"Water… water… I need… water."
The instructor didn't even glance at me. He continued his work, pouring that same liquid over every wound on my body. Miraculously, the holes began to seal, vanishing before my very eyes with visible speed.
He then shoved the vial into my mouth. I drank, nearly gagging from the soul-crushing bitterness. It was vile. I tried to push the vial away, but suddenly, an iron grip forced my jaw open, and the substance was poured down my throat by force. Tears flooded my eyes as I choked on the liquid, but I was forced to swallow every drop.
After a few minutes, my vision cleared and my strength began to return. I sat up, dizzy and nauseous. Ten minutes later, my mind finally sharpened. I remembered the fight with Wolfgang—how I had been crushed and torn apart. I looked toward him; he was staring back at me with hesitation and sheer terror.
I ignored him and turned to the trainer.
"Thank you, Coach, for saving my life."
The trainer, who looked as if he had just finished watching a casual match, replied,
"I promise you, I will give you a chance for revenge. That boy crossed every line; he clearly intended to kill you. I'll give you your chance on the third day."
He then turned back to the arena, dismissing me.
Wolf's face was ashen, his lips pale. He was terrified. Observing his fear, I began to vow,
"Wolf, I promise you, this is going to hurt far more than you expect. Especially that wound you gave my kidney… I will remember it by the centimeter."
His expression grew even worse. He was a coward at heart, and now that he was caught in my web, I would make him wish he had never been born.
The session ended at 4:00 PM. The trainer told us to go to the cafeteria and mention the name "Coach Michael." We filed out slowly; everyone was a ghost of their former selves, exhausted mentally and physically.
After eating, I headed home. On my way, I encountered Amanda.
Her face was as cold as ever, though a hint of fatigue and annoyance lingered behind her icy mask. I walked on without looking at her, but she seemed to be heading the same way. Before I reached my house, she stopped in front of a beautiful home.
It wasn't overly luxurious, but it was worlds apart from my shack. As she opened the door, I stood there, stunned.
I couldn't fathom the gap in treatment. While I struggled to find a decent mat and slept on a bare wooden bed, she lived in a house fit for a high-ranking government official. For a moment, the injustice stung.
Amanda noticed me standing in the middle of the street and asked with her usual frigid tone,
"Do you want me to host you in my home?"
"Thank you for the offer, but no," I replied instantly. "I'm tired and just want to sleep. I was only standing here because I was struck by the beauty of the house."
I kept it brief. I knew she only offered out of noble etiquette; even if she were sincere, I wouldn't have accepted. I hurried to my own place.
I washed and collapsed onto my bed.
I woke up before dawn, my body feeling like it had been shattered. Then, the cycle began again: the wash, the cafeteria, and Instructor Bam's mad lectures on the levels of the occult and the mechanics of the supernatural world.
Then came the hellish training.
That day, Wolfgang was defeated by the Big-Headed Man—likely a punishment from the instructor for his attempt at murder.
I fought six times that day. One of my opponents was Maxwell Volt; I defeated him easily, but his growth was accelerating. He was noticeably better than the day before.
I ended the day covered in wounds again. After being treated, we went to the cafeteria. I returned home and slept on my mattress-less bed, as always.