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 block another punch.
*Thwack*
Then another.
*Thwack*
Sneaking a glance through the gap between my arms, waiting for the moment when my opponent will 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 skid backward, as I was barely able to keep my balance. Somehow I 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 on 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 catch a shadow rushing towards me.
I had been waiting for him to rush towards me as I immediately counter with a punch, the same whitish smog explodes out from my body in all direction—wild and uncontrolled.
An explosion of pain rampages through my entire body, as if someone had stabbed me with a thousand daggers. As I feel hammer pounding against my brain.
Gritting through the pain, all I needed was for my punch to reach him.
A sudden bout of weakness rushes through my body, as I felt my punch connect—but the force behind it was not strong enough.
Atleast not enough to stop him.
"Shi—" Immediately on instinct he strikes my unguarded chin knocking me down.
Barely clinging to my consciousness as my surroundings constantly spiral, I hazily stare 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 start to feel heavy, my consciousness constantly slipping between being awake and unconscious. Only for my exhausted body to make the decision, as I black out.
Only to be dragged back to consciousness as he roughly shakes me awake.
I force myself up grunting, quickly moving my head left and right to check if our instructor had seen me getting knocked out, but the sudden movement sends a wave of dizziness crashing over me.
On instinct my hand shoots to my head trying to stabilize it and to stop the dizziness from overwhelming me, a small hand appears within my vision.
Gazing up I could 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 gather myself, as I respond,
"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 nod 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 glance 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 is 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. As I turn my attention back to him.
"What the hell?"
"Let's have another match Arwin." he says, while 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 raise 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 continue to successfully defend against his attack, as 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 easily win just by overwhelming him with my stronger body but for today and days to come. My plan was to train on trying to control 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.
*RING* *RING* *RING*
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 fighting take their place in the file without speaking a word or complaining to take a breath.
We only had two instructors each time the training session happened, as they stand in front of the file. One of them begins to call out numbers.
"Cadet 3."
"Yes, Sir!"
"Cadet 4."
"Yes, Sir!"
Slowly the instructor begins to call out numbers, sometimes skipping two or three numbers. Until he finally calls my number.
"Cadet 21."
"Yes, Sir!"
"Cad....
I turn 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 out 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 left the training room.
Watching the metal door close slowly was painful for my aching body but I endured it. A collective breath of relief and sigh escaped the room when they were gone.
As everyone starts to disperse. I kept watching as these kids ranging from the eleven being the youngest to fourteen being the oldest, gather in their groups. There were no loners here, no lone wolves.
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.
A hand suddenly grasps my shoulder, shaking me awake from daydreaming.
"Urgh! Don't grab my shoulder, it still hurts like hell."
Turning to see, it was not Andric but Gio who had grabbed my shoulder. He was shorter than average cadet and supporting the same army buzz cut, and cadet clothing. Shaking me excitedly, he opens his mouth,
"I saw you! I saw you controlling Prana!"
"No, I didn't control my Prana. That was just my sad attempt at it.", comes my reply.
Another voice interrupts, belonging to Marcus. He was taller than most of us. As he gives 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 with surprise. For the high and mighty Marcus to give praise was a rarity. Unlike us, he had been here longer than us.
Andric slaps my shoulder, saying "See! You are already doing better than average, Arwin. Even the lord Marcus has decided to praise you."
Only for Marcus to mutter the repeated words he had been saying since the 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 leave 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 in the cafeteria.
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 reasons, "No. You should go ahead. I can wait. After all you are the youngest in our grou—"
I immediately interrupt, "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 enters one of the empty shower stall. I nod at the other two as they also entered their individual stall.
Glancing around I look for the basin to wash my face, as sparring had worked up quite a sweat.
*Splash* *Splash*
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 greets 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 mutter, "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'.
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 follow all their orders unquestionably.
This almost sounds like a premise out of a 2000s movie but here we are—as a door to one of the occupied shower stall suddenly opens. A cadet with bruises on his body walks past me, completely ignoring me. As I enter the now empty shower stall.
Turning on the shower I begin 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.
Well either way 13/4/26 is the date this chapter was uploaded.
(P.S> Still hard to write a beginning.)