《The Cataphract》 1. The Courtyard On the packed earth courtyard of a dreary castle, Adakontus thrust his sword-lance upward, retracted it, then thrust again. The sword-lance was about four meters of solid metal, with a meter long blade at one end and counterweight at the other. His muscles burned. The sword-lance, as Adakontus had named it, weighed an impractical amount. A stupid weapon. Again, he thrust the lump of metal into the air. Fifty-nine other men and women repeated the same motions as Adakontus, in two lines of thirty. Adakontus was in the first row, which meant he mostly stared straight ahead at a boring, stone wall. Still, he managed to catch brief glances at the others. The trainees were of all skin tones and hair colors, some even showed outlandish hues like bright blue or pink. However, the most common combination was tanned skin and dark hair, like Adakontus himself. The trainees showed more similarities than differences. All the trainees were young, athletic, and nearly the same height and width. Most embarrassingly, they were all naked, but none of them had the luxury to worry about personal dignity. The courtyard was quiet, the only sounds being the restrained grunts of the students. Pungent sweat drifted on the air. The shadows grew longer as blackish clouds snuffed out the few singular rays of sunlight. In this strange land, night arrived early and stayed late. The gradual transition from dark to darker brought no sleep. Rest was not permitted. The passage of time only meant more practice. As his muscles weakened, Adakontus felt his form slip. He neared the point of exhaustion. The Instructor appeared out of nowhere on silent footsteps. A skinless man with a skull for a head, made solely of white bone, gray muscles, and black tendons. All of its humanity had been scraped away, leaving only what was necessary for combat prowess. It snatched the haft of the sword-lance in its bony fingers, repositioned it, and painfully smacked Adakontus back into proper form. It hovered about for a moment. The wisps of blue light in its empty eye sockets drilled into Adakontus. It departed. Adakontus breathed a sigh of relief. That thing terrified him. On the heels of the Instructor, as always, came the Healer. It looked like a decrepit, pastyman in a threadbare, red robe. Its entire head was encased in a smooth, silver sphere, which did not hinder it in the slightest. It leaned on a gnarled old staff as he hobbled around, always three steps behind the instructor and struggling to keep pace with the monster¡¯s perfected movements. It looked at Adakontus a moment. With a flick of its hand and a flash of red, it expunged all of Adakontus¡¯ exhaustion before hobbling off. ¡®Next form,¡¯ the words shouted in his mind. Adakontus lunged, with his left knee forward, and his left hand first on the sword-lance. The sword-lance itself was extended beyond its center of gravity with the counterweight tucked under his right armpit. Once in position, Adakontus held as still as possible. His whole body writhed with tension. He dubbed this form: ¡°The Left Lunge.¡± It was the most difficult form, only slightly worse than the ¡°The Right Lunge¡±. Unfortunately, ¡°The Right Lunge¡± was the next form in the sequence. Next was ¡°The Left Angle¡±, where Adakontus would point the sword-lance past his left foot and raise the counterweight as high as he could. After that was, predictably, ¡°The Right Angle.¡± There were nine forms that needed to be held and fifteen variations of strikes, making a total of twenty-four forms or one sequence. Adakontus had been at this continuous training for at least a hundred sequences, which was his most recent count. He often lost track. Probably because he¡¯d already gone insane long ago. The tip of the sword-lance wavered in the air and killed Adakontus¡¯ idle thoughts. That small bit of movement would draw the Instructor¡¯s punishment. He wrangled the sword-lance back under control. The Instructor became crueler during the two lunges, precisely because they were the most difficult forms. Adakontus clenched his jaw. The Healer had already paid him a visit recently. He had no choice but to hold on.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
¡®Next form.¡¯ Sequences passed, and it was the dead of night. Which meant it was slightly darker than normal. Honestly, it was impossible to tell. Adakontus only kept time in an attempt to preserve what remained of his sanity. He was at the end of his rope. His arms shook with stress, and he barely made an attempt to maintain form. His ears strained, desperate to hear the soft tap-tap-tap of the Healer¡¯s staff in the dirt. Adakontus only needed to hold on a little longer, a little harder. ¡®Next form.¡¯ Adakontus was shifting to ¡°The Right Angle¡±, when he heard that sweet sound of respite. The Healer was coming his way. The Instructor stopped to watch Adakontus, blue flames hovering in its empty eyeholes, measuring him. He paid that thing no mind. The healer waddled up, its silvery helmet looking exceptionally resplendent. It reached out to lift Adakontus¡¯ pain ¡ª When the Instructor stopped it. Adakontus¡¯ eyes widened in dread. His eyes met with the Instructor¡¯s non-eyes. The thing seemed pleased. Even without facial expressions, it radiated smugness. Then it waited. Adakontus never witnessed any trainee break entirely. Now, Adakontus would. If not now, then later, but certainly eventually, Adakontus would break. The Instructor sealed his fate. His last hope was that some other student broke first.
Adakontus didn¡¯t last long. His spirit gave way, and so did his fingers. His sword-lance fell to the dirt. Adakontus squeezed his eyes shut. In a best case scenario, the Instructor would strike him dead at this very moment. Otherwise, he was in for pain. ¡®Cease forms.¡¯ The trainees all defaulted to what Adakontus called ¡°Vertical Hold,¡± the easiest form. Confusion flickered across their faces. The Instructor dragged Adakontus out of the formation of students by the elbow, and Adakontus complied listlessly. They stopped a few feet from a dark wood double door that led into the castle proper. ¡®You. Again,¡¯ The voice spoke into his mind. Adakontus had always suspected the mental voice was the instructor¡¯s, but he was never certain. At least he gained some closure before death. But wait¡­ ¡°Again?¡± Adakontus rasped out. ¡®Second time you have broken. The runt of the litter.¡¯ The Instructor oozed amusement. ¡®You are conscious. Strange. How long have you been aware?¡¯ ¡°At least one hundred sequences, maybe more.¡± The Instructor hesitated. ¡®Use different word. Orb of Tongues did not recognize ¡°sequences.¡±¡¯ ¡°Rotation?¡± Adakontus mumbled. The Instructor sized him up. ¡®Innate resilience to magic. Inconvenient but useful. Come.¡¯ The castle doors opened before us revealing a stone hallway filled with skeleton servants, all of them motionlessly cocked at a half-bow. These skeletons were of the normal variety, thankfully not an abominable muscle skeleton like The Instructor. Adakontus assumed the skeletons were animated, although he saw nothing that indicated they were anything but macabre decoration. Everything about the castle was so utilitarian, it seemed out of character to have decorations, even decorations as fitting as dead people. The Instructor took Adakontus deeper and downward. The scenery was all the same unadorned, windowless masonry. Only the transition from hallway to stairway broke the monotony. Adakontus lost track of what set of turns they took. The place was labyrinthian. All in all, it didn¡¯t bother Adakontus. So long as he wasn¡¯t going to die and didn¡¯t need to hold that damn lump of metal, he was content. They reached their destination deep in the bowels of the earth. Or at least Adakontus assumed it was the bowels. It reeked. The final turn revealed the source of the stench. A massive translucent slug monster laid in a pool of mixed sludge and filth. Adakontus dry heaved, but there was nothing to puke. One of the monster¡¯s eyestalks lazily glanced at The Instructor. A moment of tortuous silence passed between them. Then, all seven of the slug¡¯s eyestalks fixated on Adakontus. He fainted. 2. The Clearing Adakontus thrust his sword-lance upward, retracted it, then thrust again. He¡¯d been at this for at least a hundred sequences, which was his most recent count. He often lost track. Probably because he¡¯d already gone insane long ago. ¡®Cease forms.¡¯ Adakontus panicked. He had no idea how to cease forms. The last thing he wanted to do was guess. Perhaps he had already been taught but forgotten. He didn¡¯t trust his memory. He would likely earn The Instructor¡¯s punishment no matter what he did. It was better to wait and see how the other students react. The mass confusion allowed Adakontus to have a decent look around. Most students switched to ¡°Vertical Hold¡±, some rested their sword-lance on a shoulder, and a few brave ones rested the butt of their weapon in the dirt. One lone trainee kept thrusting. Adakontus decided to rest his weapon against his shoulder. It seemed the safest bet. ¡°Vertical Hold¡± was technically still a form, and if he was supposed to be in ¡°Vertical Hold¡±, hopefully the dirt-butt crowd would divert The Instructor¡¯s wrath. The Instructor observed the trainees as if searching for something specific in the eyes of each student. Then, it strode over to the most egregious student, the thruster. It moved the student into the proper position, feet shoulder width apart, sword-lance in the right hand, and left hand tucked behind the back. Everyone imitated. The Instructor moved to the left end of the rows. ¡°Face,¡± the words shouted. In synchronicity, the students turned to the instructor. Adakontus resolutely stared at the back of his neighbor¡¯s head. Her mess of greenish hair prevented him from seeing up the line. Silence stood. Adakontus waited, unworried. No matter what happened, his fate was outside his control. Lost in idleness, Adakontus¡¯ eyes wandered. A mindless risk, a risk Adakontus would usually never permit. An errant glance would bring The Instructor¡¯s attentions. Even stranger, his eyes rested on the lithe body of the woman in front of him. She stood poised, with her blue-black skin pulled tight across the smooth ripples of her back muscles. Black skin with blue shadows, artistry painted in inverted color. Beautiful. Beautiful, but no more and no less. An idle observation which Adakontus pushed aside. An empty feeling twisted his lips into a frown. Pain was too easy to accept, and everything else too easy to ignore. Adakontus never considered himself determined. He couldn¡¯t draw on any specific examples, he simply knew. Based on non-existant past experiences, Adakontus was the type to leer at women and daydream. Yet here he was, fighting through exhaustion and adversity to survive. Laying down and accepting death seemed truer to his character. ¡°March,¡± the words shouted, and so Adakontus did. The formation passed over the earthen courtyard and exited the castle through an overgrown gatehouse. The gates themselves were gone, leaving only huge, rusted hinges behind. Yellowish brown moss hung off the arched stones like filth on a rock monster¡¯s teeth. Beyond the castle walls, nature struggled but persevered. Fungi littered the rocky ground. Some were ordinary, mushrooms and mold of pale, muted colors. Far more were exotic. A lightshow of lumescent stalks and bulbous growths in blues, greens, and yellows. Insects chittered and chirped, hidden among the alien fungus. The land was flat and wide, with no obstruction to sight except for the darkness itself. Far away, clouds of deep green fog that rolled along the horizon. The oppressive darkness and the otherworldly foliage somehow reminded Adakontus of an ocean floor. The trainees marched down a dusty path devoid of the chest sized rocks that covered the landscape. The Instructor circled the group on even strides, enforcing a standard pace. The Instructor caught Adakontus gawking more than once, and pretended not to notice. The scenery enraptured Adakontus. A cluster of blue lights wriggled on top of fleshy, pink sprouts. Adakontus wondered how they would taste. A pillow sized beetle lazily stepped through a meadow of yellow cap mushrooms. Its green-blue shell glittered in the mushrooms'' faint illumination.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Soon enough, Adakontus ignored the sights. His legs burned and his bare feet bled. He focused entirely on each arduous step. All the trainees suffered. Adakontus stepped into bloody footprints, and left new ones behind. Somewhere along the way, The Instructor produced a switch. Every time the march faltered, The Instructor bled the students with swift strikes. The cuts on Adakontu¡¯s back stung with each laborious breath. Adakontus couldn¡¯t say how long they travelled, but the trainees¡¯ tortuous march ended in a perfectly circular clearing, about fifteen meters in diameter. Flat, irregular stones paved the floor of the clearing. Only a fingernail width gap existed between each stone, in spite of their wild shapes. An iron obelisk waited in its exact center. The Instructor herded the students into the clearing, leaving them at the edges facing inward. As each trainee stepped off the dirt path and onto the stone, their wounds knitted and fused together leaving only bloodstains behind. Once all the students stood inside the clearing and faced the Obelisk, The Instructor paced around the outside of the ring. Adakontus¡¯ eyes flicked about with uncertainty. None of the others seemed afraid. Their eyes showed either resolution or nothing at all, blank gazes with dilated pupils. The Instructor abruptly stopped its predatory circling. A bald, pale-skinned man sprinted towards the center, and a wide-eyed, tan woman rushed to meet him. Their sword-lances pointed at each other, readied for violence. The clash ended instantly, with the woman speared through the heart. The force of the man¡¯s charge pierced the blade though the woman¡¯s back, and slammed the her to the ground. The bloody tip of his weapon screeched along the stone as his momentum slowed. As soon as the man pulled his weapon out of the dead woman, the fatal gash in her chest healed with a disgustingly wet slurp. The pale man returned to his place at the edge of the clearing, while the bewildered woman clutched at her bloody chest with callused hands. The Instructor pushed through the ring of trainees, and dragged the woman back to a new place by the shoulder. Then the monster returned to circling its students with gliding steps. Its skeletal grin was wider than ever. Without warning, the next pair threw themselves into the arena. A brown haired man suffered a shoulder wound to disembowel a gray-skinned man. The loser fell groaning to the floor, holding his intestines. The Instructor forced gray-skin¡¯s guts back into his stomach, and pulled him back to the edge of the ring. Next, a fiery haired woman cleaved a pink haired man at the elbow, then slit his throat. The Instructor held the severed limb to the stump, and it jumped back into place like a magnet. A green-bearded man crippled a hawkish, tan man with a lunge, but took a fatal headblow in exchange. Gruesome and brutal, the duels continued one after another. Some died silently, some died screaming. Adakontus could barely watch, but he forced himself to. Each duel observed was a lesson learned. Soon, he¡¯d be called forward and he didn¡¯t want to be the one maimed. The Instructor stopped across the ring from Adakontus. Staring over the shoulder of blue hued man, The Instructor met Adakontus¡¯ terrified eyes. The black candlelights in its eye sockets danced. ¡®Fight.¡¯ Adakontus stepped to meet his opponent, but nobody came forward. Pain lanced through him, right under his ribs. He looked down to find his neighbor¡¯s blade thrust through his right side and poking out his left. The woman with the blue-black skin observed him with emotionless, silver eyes. With a twist, she sliced through his guts, pulling out the front of his belly. Adakontus dropped his sword-lance and staggered backwards. He felt The Instructor¡¯s soundless laughter. That cruel abomination. A dirty trick. Just before Adakontus staggered backwards out of the clearing, a hand pushed him forward into the center. Adakontus fell coughing to his hands and knees. ¡®Fight.¡¯ The pink-haired man charged, winding his weapon back for a strike. Adakontus flinched. The blade swung towards his neck. Adakontus¡¯ head spun through the air as he watched his body crumple onto the stone ground. His head¡¯s flight ended gently in a set of bony fingers. The Instructor¡¯s white skull grinned as it watched Adakontus die. 3. A Duel with Death The low wind pushed through the bioluminescent bulbs, whose pink stalks gently flexed back and forth. Their blueish light faded then brightened at a regular interval. The sight reminded Adakontus of the stars, which stayed permanently hidden behind the sky¡¯s oppressive black clouds. If he listened closely, he could hear the deep thrumming of giant bugs flying through the darkness. Sometimes, he caught glimpses of clear wings reflected in the fungal glow. A deathly wail forced Adakontus back to reality. By the obelisk in the center of the bloodspattered arena, a woman died and a woman killed. At its edges, the other students observed with empty faces, while Adakontus tried not to look. The killer¡¯s auburn, tangled hair covered her face. Filthy and naked, her shoulders hunched as she drove her weapon deeper into her opponent¡¯s gut. The dying woman¡¯s face did not show pain, but confusion and fear. Her pale eyes wandered, seeing but not comprehending, like a sleepwalker whose dream abruptly descended into nightmare. Adkontus shut it out. He watched the fog on the horizon, and felt the breeze on his bare skin. It smelled fresh and earthy. Yet again, the cruel voice echoed in his mind. ¡®Fight.¡¯ Adakontus unwillingly entered the slaughter. He walked carefully, avoiding the cracks between the stones, which were filled with the ruddy brown of dried blood. Now that Adakontus left the ring of students, he felt their blank eyes on his back. Behind them, The Instructor flitted about like a shadow, its skeletal form barely outlined against the darkness. Its undivided attention felt like a knife against Adakontus¡¯ throat. Across the arena, his opponent emerged from the potential duelists. Without hesitation, the fiery haired woman stepped onto the aftermath of the previous duel. A mane of yellow and orange framed an expressionless face. Her sword-lance pointed out in a two-handed grip, and she strode on steady feet. Adakontus let out a deep breath. He slid his feet over the cold floor into proper footing. He waited. Then he lunged. He surged all his strength and momentum into a singular strike. The fiery haired woman parried effortlessly. It was tiny movement, little more than a flick of the wrist, that deflected Adakontus¡¯ blade wide by centimeters. Simultaneously, her riposte pierced Adakontus¡¯ chest. Adakontus did not scream or struggle. With a gentle sigh, he let his fingers loosen, and let his head drop. And again, he died.
Adakontus slammed into the obelisk. The Instructor was not happy. Its bony hand vised around Adakontus¡¯ neck. ¡®Fight.¡¯ It tossed Adakontus to the edge of the ring, and javelined his sword-lance after him. Landing an inch from Adakontus¡¯ nose, the weapon¡¯s point sunk partway into arena floor and pelted his face with shards of rock. The Instructor then snatched a sword-lance from an impassive student. Adakontus struggled to his feet. Dazed, he leaned on the imbedded sword-lance. The Instructor seemingly floated across the arena in an instant, and stuck a shallow wound into Adakontus¡¯ calf. A step back, then it sent its blade into the meat of Adakontus¡¯ shoulder. Next it sheared flesh off his ribs. Then it pierced his thigh above the bone. It hurt, badly. Adakontus shook his sword-lance back in forth, hoping to pry it from the ground. Each time The Instructor came close, it sent a flash of metal into Adakontus. He flinched at every new cut.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Fed up, Adakontus threw a wild punch at The Instructor. It wanted a fight, so he¡¯d give it one. The Instructor casually stepped aside, but chose not to counter. Adakontus glared at The Instructor, with heaving lungs and clenched fists. The Instructor stood still, lazily holding the heavy weapon in one hand. With a furious cry, Adakontus charged the Instructor. His sloppy right hook whooshed through the air, and The Instructor speared him in the throat.
¡®Fight.¡¯ Adakontus crawled onto his knees, then onto unsteady feet. His sword-lance laid within arm¡¯s reach, and thankfully not embedded into the arena. He scooped it up and faced The Instructor. Its posture differed from the restless predator that stalked around the arena. The monster reminded Adakontus of a coiled snake. One moment quietly sunbathing, next moment fang deep in your leg. Neither side moved, and The Instructor seemed pleased with Adakontus¡¯ caution. The Instructor stirred first. It walked slowly into striking range, as if daring Adakontus to attack. Adakontus backed away. The Instructor continued walking straight at Adakontus¡¯ blade point. Adakontus retreated until he bumped into the wall of trainees at the arena¡¯s edge. Surprised, he looked at the student behind him and¡ª
¡®Fight.¡¯ Adakontus awoke sitting against the obelisk, his weapon across his knees. The Instructor attacked immediately, its blade whizzing past Adakontus¡¯ cheek. Adakontus stumbled backwards. The Instructor cut off his retreat, then kicked him into the obelisk. Its blade carved through Adakontus¡¯ back and into his heart.
¡®Fight.¡¯ Adakontus opened his eyes to see The Instructor¡¯s weapon speeding towards him. He closed his eyes. A foot slammed into Adakontus¡¯ stomach, then a fist rocked his skull. He curled into a ball. The Instructor wrenched his left arm away from his knees. It wrapped its hand around Adakontus¡¯ pinky. Snap. ¡°Aaaah!¡± Adakontus realised he was screaming. His free hand pounded against the arena floor. Gnashing his teeth, Adakontus opened his good eye. The Instructor had one hand wrapped around Adakontus¡¯ wrist, while the other gently stroked his three straight fingers. His pinky bent all the way backwards to his wrist, and bits of bone stuck out of the nearly detached knuckle. The Instructor tugged on Adakontus¡¯ middle finger a moment, then it let go. It picked up its weapon, and faced Adakontus. The blue flames in its skull shimmered cheerfully. Adakontus rolled over, and pulled himself to his feet. So this is how it was. He grabbed his sword-lance, and pointed it at The Instructor. His right eye was little more than a bruise, and dripping blood forced it shut. His stomoch ached. His back was scratched up from all his thrashing on the stone floor. His left pinky dangled beneath his hand, swinging gently in the breeze. Tucking his weapon under his arm, Adakontus took the useless finger in his hand. He tore through that last bit of skin, then tossed the finger onto the arena. It wasn¡¯t worth shit anymore. The Instructor took an actual stance. Unlike the lazy snake, it was a tiger. On the back of a lightning quick step, The Instructor¡¯s sword-lance lashed out. Brushing aside Adakontus¡¯ hastey parry, it shattered his left shoulder. Adakontus shuffled back, and painfully resumed his stance. The Instructor glided forward. Its weapon darted towards Adakontus¡¯s heart. Anticipating the strike, Adakontus leaned right and countered with a wobbly one-hand thrust. The Instructor aborted its attack, and casually stepped aside. Adakontus held his ground. His lance tip wavered in the air, pointed at The Instructor as it circled. His left arm shook with pain, but he forced it to hold the sword-lance as best he could. His good eye tracked his opponent, meeting its not-eyes but weary of its movements. It struck again, easily slipping its blade into Adakontus¡¯ gut, then dancing back. Adakontus sunk to one knee. Was he allowed to die yet? Adakontus clenched his teeth, and pushed back onto his feet. No, not yet. The monster wanted everything Adakontus had to give. The Instructor swung its weapon into Adakontus¡¯ blind spot. Adakontus did all he could to dodge, which was to flop to the ground. Scrambling on his side, Adakontus tried to gain some space. A hard foot flipped him onto his back. The Instructor jammed his sword-lance into Adakontus¡¯ chest. ¡®Good.¡¯ 3.5 ¡®Fight.¡¯ Adakontus sprang to life. Adrenaline immediately surged through him, a trained response. He snagged his weapon off the ground while rolling aside. A blade cut the empty air he vacated. The Instructor followed up with a controlled thrust, but Adakontus scrambled out of range. First hurdle cleared. The skeletal monster pressed its advantage. Exposed gray muscles rippled as its sword-lance arced downward. Adakontus choked up on his sword-lance and stepped into the attack, eager to trade. Parry and thrust. His blade tip passed a centimeter beside bleached ribs. The counterstrike passed through Adakontus¡¯ eye and into his skull.
¡®Fight.¡¯ Adakontus¡¯ eyes shot open. He dodged the preemptive execution, twisting to his feet. Three steps carried him to false safety. Safety did not exist here. Adakontus merely delayed his next death, and he died when The Instructor chose to kill him. Both duelists stayed at the edges of striking distance, posturing. If Adakontus could slip inside The Instructor¡¯s blade, he might repeat his near success. But a near success was a failure. In the end, Adakontus gave his life to miss. The Instructor might be weaving illusory openings, then snapping the trap on Adakontus¡¯ throat. The monster threw a spear half a meter into solid ¡ª and probably magical ¡ª rock. It was certainly holding back, toying with him. No matter what tactic Adakontus used, no matter how precisely he struck, he failed to do anything but die. Repeatedly. Regardless, the current situation heavily favored The Instructor. It would cheerfully pick Adakontus apart with superior skill, then execute him. Adakontus rushed. The Instructor swung low to high. A step back, then another swing, low to high. Its sweeping motions threatened Adakontus¡¯ legs, and kept him exactly where he didn¡¯t want to be: one sword-lance length away from it. Adakontus dug his toes into the crusted arena floor, leaving a furrow in the brownish-red grime as he abruptly changed direction. The Instructor flowed from a sweep to an explosive thrust and almost pierced Adakontus¡¯ groin. Adakontus retreated to the other side of the arena. The Instructor did not chase.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Why?¡± Adakontus muttered. His anger flared. ¡°Why are you playing these games?¡± he yelled. ¡°Come and kill me, motherfucker! Quit this cat and mouse bullshit.¡± The Instructor obliged. Within a heartbeat, its skull invaded Adakontus¡¯ face. Startled, he flinched away. The cold flames in its eyes licked his face. One skeletal hand held his weapon, while the other stuck a finger through his chest.
Adakontus sidestepped a long, one-handed thrust. The Instructor whipped the sword-lance back before Adakontus could blink. It swung the unwieldy weapon around like a foam sword. Adakontus regretted his idiotic taunt. The Instructor no longer pretended to be human-like. It no longer acted defensively either. From the start of each duel, it overpowered Adakontus with raw strength and speed. Last duel, he¡¯d gotten past the blade only to be pulped by the sword-lance¡¯s metal shaft. He stole the ghost of an opening from between The Instructor¡¯s barrage. A desperate charge, Adakontus abandoned the forms drilled into him, and dove bodily at the skeletal monster. A muscled shoulder ¡ª blacker than the eternal night in this strange land ¡ª ducked under his blade with inhuman speed, then rammed into his gut. Adakontus¡¯ feet flipped over his head as he tumbled onto his back. It all felt useless, like emptying a lake with a bucket in a rainstorm. No, worse. At least in that scenario, he had a concrete goal. The Instructor forced Adakontus to duel for what? Training? All he¡¯d been so far was every possible way to die to a sword-staff. Punishment? Maybe, but in that case The Instructor could go back to breaking his fingers off one by one. Adakontus¡¯ best guess was simple sadism, but even that didn¡¯t add up. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± The Instructor halted its finishing blow. A student walked up next to it, called by a silent command. The Instructor hoisted the student into the hair by his black hair. It Instructor shook him, and he wiggled bonelessly like a dead duck in a shop window. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, sometimes forming into the remnant of a word. His hazel eyes darted about, focusing on empty air for brief moments. ¡®No mind. Yet body learns.¡¯ The Instructor tossed the man aside, and he walked back to his place at the edge of the arena. The blue flames in The Instructor¡¯s eyes scoured Adakontus¡¯ soul. ¡®You. Must choose suffering. This one must force you to choose suffering. For death by blade is not always the end. But often. And we. We will never allow you peace.¡¯ Adakontus laid back for a moment, and stared into the black, oppressive clouds. Then he launched from the ground into The Instructor. He wrapped his left arm around the monster, while his right fist hammered into The Instructor¡¯s side. It didn¡¯t move a millimeter. Tears blurred his vision. Adakontus roared. He roared until his throat was hoarse. 4. Clawing like a Rat Following his outburst, Adakontus threw himself into the duels. The Instructor always cheated. No matter how much Adakontus improved, The Instructor stayed ahead. Skill, strength, speed, whatever, he couldn¡¯t eke out a single advantage in any category. Adakontus felt like he was running on a treadmill suspended over a crocodile tank, as if he were the star in a shitty spy movie. Every time he caught his breath, The Instructor increased the speed. Adakontus decided each increase in difficulty was a small victory, and the reward was more punishment. Good, Adakontus¡¯ goal was to endure. Endure now so he may endure geater. After countless losses, The Instructor¡¯s hellish tutelage ended as it began: without warning. Adakontus met The Instructor¡¯s unspoken goal, and that was it. The students resumed their duels, and the lengthy interruption went unnoticed. Now, Adakontus stood at the edge of the clearing, watching and waiting for his turn to die. Old, dried blood made the arena look like a dumping ground for reddish-brown paint, and every duel gave a fresh coat of crimson. The pink-haired man added the newest splash of color. Blood leaked from the cuts in his abdomen, dribbling down his legs. Still, he held his sword-lance in a firm grip. His opponent was the woman with the blue-black skin. She stalked her prey on the balls of her feet. Her weapon¡¯s point slowly drifted through the air, probing pink-hair¡¯s defences. Her silver eyes searched for the deathblow. Pink-hair already lost, yet he refused to die. Similarly, the woman with the blue-black skin refused to give up her advantage and trade a wound for a kill. The duel stalled. The exhausted man put his back to the obelisk to steady himself. His breathing was shallow, and his skin paled from blood loss. Forcing through her opponent¡¯s guard, the woman with the blue-black skin thrust her sword-lance into pink-hair¡¯s chest. He slid down the obelisk, leaving a smear on the iron. ¡®Fight.¡¯ Adakontus casually approached the obelisk, as the woman returned to the sidelines. Pink-hair¡¯s corpse slumped against it. The Instructor stopped reviving people after each fight. Consecutive duels sometimes left the students fighting atop a pile of corpses. Something caught Adakontus¡¯ eye. He pulled the corpse¡¯s mouth open. Pink hair sported two rows of nubby, serrated teeth. That wasn¡¯t human. Adakontus¡¯ newest opponent slunk into the arena. The man had brown hair, brown skin, and a classically handsome mug. Now that Adakontus thought about it, all the students were far from ugly. Maybe that was part of whatever fucked up selection process landed him here. In a roundabout way, it was also a compliment. But Adakontus would rather be ugly and far, far away. Mister Handsome softly muttered nonsense, and flipped his sword-lance over and over. It appeared a nervous tick, like a knifeman idly playing with his blade. Quirks of that nature appeared in most trainees. Individuality broke through the trance in strange ways. Adakontus smiled. The nutjobs of today replaced the automatons of yesterday. Perhaps soon, he wouldn¡¯t be the only sane person here.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Adakontus led off with a thrust to set the pace. Handsome dodged back. The blade tip quivered in the air a moment, before Adakontus pushed into a second thrust. His breath heaved, and his muscles strained. More than anything, dueling with a heavy sword-lance demanded strength and control. An errant movement left the fighter dangerously off balance. Easier to act than react. Adakontus forced Handsome back with rhythmic strikes, a dance that gave his opponent no chance to cut in. Handsome parried and weaved with speed beyond Adakontus, but that¡¯s all he managed. All Adakontus required was a small mistake. He found it. Handsome overcorrected, so Adakontus stabbed his thigh. A perfect outcome. Adakontus retreated to other end of the arena, and caught his breath. His wounded opponent couldn¡¯t follow. Handsome¡¯s clock ticked. Even if Adakontus missed the main artery, which he hoped he hadn¡¯t, that leg would eventually give out. In Adakontus¡¯ situation, The Instructor would shove its advantage down Handsome¡¯s throat then rip it out. Adakontus, however, was dead beat. The aggressive style had his heart beating like a double bass drum. Adakontus prayed for a lighter weapon, or bigger muscles. Preferably both. Handsome approached, so Adakontus walked away. Handsome came faster, so Adakontus hustled away. Handsome charged. Adakontus turned on a dime, and launched a lunging strike. Handsome¡¯s sword-lance whipped like a snake, deflecting the thrust and poised for a counter. Adakontus¡¯ face contorted in surprise. ¡°How did he do-¡± Momentum crashed the two together. Adakontus luckily avoided his opponent¡¯s blade, but his own weapon clattered to the floor. He grabbed onto Handsome¡¯s sword-lance. In the ensuing struggle, Handsome¡¯ bad leg gave out and dragged both fighters to the ground. The duel devolved into a brawl. Adakontus caught a punch with his face, and felt his nose stop up with blood. Handsome was not only faster, but stronger too. Not fair. Adakontus got the worst of the asswhooping. Handsome broke his nose, and kept slamming knees into his ribs as they grappled on the arena. Crusty, old blood covered them both as they rolled around. Adakontus was certain he¡¯d be beaten to death barehanded. Up until he grabbed a handful of Handsome¡¯s other weapon and squeezed. Hard. Handsome howled horribly, and Adakontus slammed the man¡¯s head into the stone floor. The first time didn¡¯t quite cut it, so Adakontus did it again, and again. Handsome wasn¡¯t handsome anymore. Adakontus stopped when the ex-handsome stopped twitching. He stood up and spat blood. A little bit of skin came out too, which probably wasn¡¯t his own. Adakontus was shocked. He¡¯d bit that guy in the middle of a fight, and hadn¡¯t noticed. He spat and spat until his mouth dried out. The duel shouldn¡¯t have been so close. Adakontus dueled The Instructor hundreds of times. He should be head and shoulders above the others, killing with ease. Instead, he ended up biting and clawing like a rat. Adakontus felt a pat on the back. He jumped, adrenaline rushing. He¡¯d finished his opponent, he was sure of it. Wasn¡¯t he? Handsome should have died to a clean thrust, but he slipped out of it. Maybe he could slip out of a broken skull, too. Adakontus turned to look, then let out a breath of relief. Handsome hadn¡¯t returned from the dead. It was only The Instructor, who shoved Adakontus¡¯ sword-lance into his shaking hands. ¡°Do you have anything to wash out my mouth?¡± he asked. The Instructor only pointed to the edge of the arena, and shoved. ¡°Guess not.¡± 5. Armored by Bones The arena floor was a pile of lethargic people, wriggling like a container of bait worms. Groans and grunts filled the air as the students untangled themselves. Sword-lances littered the floor where dying duelists dropped them. Adakontus moaned and clutched his head, while he pushed someone¡¯s foot out of his face. These mass resurrections felt like being hungover in the front row of a drumline competition. He stood up, trying to avoid stepping on anyone too much. He grabbed a student¡¯s outstretched arm, and pulled her to her feet. Her messy brown hair shook as she gave him a slight nod, and she whispered a word of thanks in an unknown tongue. Adakontus weaved through the mess, helping those who reached out. The other students sat on the cusp of sanity. They had come a long way from blank stares to almost normal mannerisms. However, reality had not yet set in. A tan man clapped Adakontus on the shoulder and fired off a stream of sing-songy language. His eyes fixed firmly on Adakontus¡¯ forehead. About halfway through his voice cut out, but his mouth kept miming the words. Adakontus simply nodded along until the man quit. The Instructor finally entered the fray, speeding the process along. A monster of white bone and gray muscle, simply turning its skull sent the students scurrying. A hellish anatomical model from the shadow dimension. Its blueflame eyes flicked onto Adakontus for a moment. He shivered. A primal fear, one that no amount of exposure would dampen. He couldn''t believe he''d taunted that thing. Hurried along, Adakontus grabbed his sword-lance carefully. It wasn¡¯t time to cut anyone, not yet. Noone had trouble finding their specific weapon among the mess. Adakontus could probably pick his weapon out of a lineup of a thousand in ten seconds. Once the students reformed the circle around the edge of the clearing, silence reigned. The duels would begin soon. Adakontus did not fancy that. He¡¯d only won a single duel so far, and he won it with a nutshot. Turns out, Handsome was rather weak compared to the other students. Adakontus spent more time dead than fighting. Adakontus pushed the building frustration away. He took a deep breath, savoring the earthy aromas. Spears of golden light pierced through the ink black overcast. Each brief ray cast a brief spotlight onto the fantastical scenery. A blue, spongy mold swelled the side of a rock. A shimmering beetle munched on a glowing, fungal bulb. A dog sized wasp crawled through a meadow of pink mushrooms, wings twitching with each mechanical step. Adakontus calmed. A cloud of pale dust thundered down the path to the clearing. That wasn¡¯t normal. Adakontus squinted. Holding thick chains in their yellowed knuckles, a team of twenty skeletons pulled a rusted wagon down the path. Two rows of ten. They sprinted, kicking up clouds of dirt on unison steps. The wagon bounced over rocks behind them. In no time at all the skeletons arrived, and a whirlwind of dust erupted as the skeletons dropped the chains. The students coughed and hacked, but the skeletons bulldozed into their next task, unloading the cargo before the wagon stopped rolling. Towers of crates stacked up, quick as can be. Three skeletons broke off from the work crew, pulling boxes off the towers. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. They approached The Instructor, and presented the crates. Knees in the dirt, chin down, and arms above their heads, as though giving The Instructor a gold crown instead of a worn-down box. The Instructor leaned in to read the crates¡¯ lids, before directing the skeleton to a specific student. It had an abundance of personality the skeletons lacked. Their yellowed bones moved gracelessly like machine levers. The crate towers disappeared, and a crate sat behind each student. The skeletons formed teams of two and cracked the crates open. They pulled out the most wondrous and valuable item Adakontus had ever witnessed. Clothes! The skeletons dressed the students, who looked perturbed their attentions. The fiery-haired woman shook the skeletons off, refusing to relinquish her weapon. The Instructor ended that. Ungrateful woman. Clothes make the man, and only animals are naked. Those crates delivered the gift of civilisation. Adakontus¡¯ turn to be dressed came far too slowly as the skeletons worked their way around the circle. The creak of his crate being opened filled him with glee. Sand colored silky underwear went on first. Adakontus was too excited to mind the skeleton¡¯s icy touch. Then came a pair of thin, dark pants with built in socks that rose just past the knees. The socks were luxuriously soft. Adakontus regretted dirtying them on the nasty arena floor. An incredible disrespect to something so comfy! A long sleeve shirt, made of the same thin materiel as the pants, went over his head. Next came a second pair of pants. This time thick, red and rubbery instead of thin and weightless. Leathery scales, dark green to the point of black, covered the backs of his knees. The scales seemed hard and stiff but deformed easily. After that was shirt of the same rubber, with the scales on the inside of his elbows and armpits. Lastly came scaled gloves. Adakontus wiggled. The clothing was tight, but comfortably so. The style was somewhat strange. The students looked like a bunch of red-latex ninjas, just not as shiny. Adakontus somehow felt more dignified when he was naked. Hopefully all this effort didn¡¯t land him in some sick dictator¡¯s bodyguard harem. The skeletons ran to the wagon and took out pieces of black armor: cuirasses, helms, boots, and other parts Adakontus had no name for. The armor went straight from the wagon to the students. Skeletons in groups of four fastened buckles and straps with surgical efficiency. The students went from kinda fetishy to downright heavy metal, and not the uranium kind of heavy metal. Full plate encased Adakontus almost head to toe, and scales protected the gaps. The armor had an impressive practicality. Simple and deadly. It didn¡¯t need spikes or skulls to be scary. Its muted style radiated an aura of ¡®boot to the face.¡¯ For the first time ever, Adakontus felt badass. The least badass among badasses, but still. The Instructor paced among the students, carefully inspecting them and causing quite a number of flinches. The skeletons stood erect, like puppets on taught strings, waiting for the verdict. The Instructor walked to the center of the arena. ¡®I. Amolhekai. Now. Training truly begins.¡¯ Murmurs floated among the students, their anxiety hidden behind black helms. Adakontus shifted his weight uneasily. Training begins now? Then what was the hell he¡¯d been through? Amolhekai flicked his hand at the skeletons. ¡®Remove all.¡¯ A skeleton pulled off Adakontus¡¯ helm. Wait, remove all? No! Adakontus just got these heavenly socks! 6. A Fools Knife Adakontus wrestled a purple-skinned woman across the arena grounds. Flecks of dried blood lifted off the stone and stuck to his bronzed skin as he attempted to pin Lady Grape. He forced her into one of the grips Amolhekai had shown the students. He knew it well. Amolhekai used Adakontus as the example. A little more pressure, and Grape would taste the pain Adakontus suffered. Instead, she bodily threw him onto his back, the pounced on Adakontus and wrapped her legs around his head. Unfortunately they stunk of body odor and not fruit. Why be such a stupid color if you got nothing out of it? Adakontus leveraged his right arm to escape, but the she-beast captured that too. Adakontus was annoyed. A strange thing to be feeling while getting choked out by a naked woman. Some men might be angry or emancipated at losing. Some men might be elated. The Adakontus living in his memories would feel pure bliss. The Adakontus of now felt nothing about it. Thoughts of that nature never drifted into his mind, unless Adakontus had time for idle introspection. When the thought occurred that he should feel that attraction. When the thought occurred that he used be someone else, somewhere else. When the thought occurred that he might never have been that person at all. Adakontus¡¯ lungs throbbed as he fruitlessly struggled. No, his annoyance did not stem from the purple woman at all. Amolhekai annoyed him. The monster used him as an example for anything that hurt. It was torture! Then it threw him into the arena to get overpowered by any other student. Duels were far more useful than this wrestling garbage. He had a weapon, why fight without it? The fire in his lungs mounted, and pain flared in his head. Then the pressure fled. He felt lightheaded and tingly all over. His vision narrowed and he slipped into sleep.
Adakontus woke up to Missy Purple¡¯s pearly smile. She bowed slightly, and her short blue hair bobbed up and down. Ah! That¡¯s the name of her haircut, a bob! Adakontus remembered he liked that hairstyle, which fouled his already bad mood. Remembering things put a pit of disgust and embarrassment in his stomach. His memories were like a biographical documentary starring a useless fop. Adakontus¡¯ former self had been three things: a shitty social climber, a shittier poet, and the shittiest casanova. Gaps filled his memory, like the documentary editors decided to cut anything of remote value. Adakontus had been educated, or at least implied to be. He recalled none of it. To top that all off, the old Adakontus never did anything more strenuous than bat his eyelashes at wealthy young women, and unsuccessfully too! Which explained why current Adakantus gets his ass whooped. Damn violin lessons! Adakontus was some sort of black knight in training. He didn¡¯t need to read sheet music. Adakontus returned his opponent¡¯s bow. Most of the students showed manners now. A bow before a fight, and a bow after. A few clamped a fist to their chests, or performed some other strange salute. Adakontus always felt mocked. ''Thank you for the easy win, I needed a break from my real fights.'' Controlling his expression, Adakontus stomped to his spot in the ring of students. No longer did the students shuffle around as The Instructor picked the best angles for mind-numbed duelists to charge. Everyone had a place. Two skeletons waited for Adakontus, his undead cornermen. A mannequin, delivered by a second wagon, wore Adakontus¡¯ armor, and his ass-kicking boots laid nearby. The skeletons had repacked his clothes into the original crate, which sat behind the mannequin. A weapon rack held his sword-lance and long, narrow dagger. Adakontus couldn¡¯t wait to test his new blade. The blue-black skinned woman and green-beard skillessly rolled around on the floor. Adakontus sighed. Given equal strength, Adakontus would bend either one into a pretzel and have them flailing until they went limp. But he couldn¡¯t. Adakontus had a knack for grappling, or so he thought, just not enough power to back it up. That sentiment made his string of losses all the more painful.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Green-beard ended the fight by picking his opponent up and repeatedly slamming her into the iron obelisk. Pitiful. The goal of this exercise was to disable your opponent with technique, not brutalize them. Raw strength gave results, sure. But Amolhekai didn¡¯t snap Adakontus¡¯ spine in the demonstrations, and it certainly could have. Amolhekai itself walked onto the arena. Green-beard made it away unpunished, giving tacit approval of his savagery. A bony finger tapped Adakontus¡¯ shoulder. Surprised, he looked behind him to find the skeleton proffering Adakontus the dagger. Only then, did he notice the blade in Amolhekai¡¯s hand. Grimacing, Adakontus grabbed his weapon and walked to certain death. Amolhekai¡¯s gray muscles rippled as it took a familiar stance, the one that formed the basis of grappling. Wide legs and a low center of gravity. Diverting from the recipe, Amolhekai¡¯s shoulders angled a bit, leaving its dagger out front, with its offhand hovering behind it. Adakontus mirrored it. Amolhekai darted. Its offhand clawed out to control Adakontus¡¯ dagger, while its own flashed towards his ribs. The two fought like cats and bled like pigs. At least, Adakontus bled like a pig. Amolhekai did not bleed at all. Its fleshwounds repaired themselves, strands of muscle wiggling like tiny gray snakes before tying together. Even so, Adakontus finally managed to wound The Instructor. A goal reached, he smiled as he died.
Knife fighting was violent stuff. The demonstrations were exceedingly bloody. Every time, Adakontus ended up pumped full of stab wounds. Amolhekai sometimes slowed down, and taught proper techniques: how to control the opponent¡¯s blade, how to disable an opponent¡¯s arm, or variations of killstrokes. But after that? Back at it like feral cats in a sack. Adakontus regularly wounded Amolhekai, a dire prospect. The two were mismatched like a goose versus a toddler. The goose always won, Adakontus knew from experience. If Adakontus could stab Amolhekai, then knife fights were little better than coin-flips to see who bled out first. Once the students began dueling amongst themselves, Adakontus found he was a master at coin-flips. Too weak to wrestle, too slow to duel, but definitely mean enough to stab some people.
¡®Fight.¡¯ Miss Blue-black Skin and Adakontus entered the arena. She bowed with a regal flourish. Adakontus stifled a snort. That one oozed unearthly grace, and stared down her perfect nose at everyone. The dark-skinned beauty dominated Adakontus in the sword-lance duels. Truthfully, she dominated everyone. Adakontus bent at the waist and shot her a sharp grin. Her skill justified that attitude, but Adakontus suspected her arrogance was innate. Adakontus spun his dagger. Now though, he had the chance for a little petty revenge. Adakontus charged, as the aggressor had the advantage. Blue-black prepared herself and met him. Adakontus took control quickly, forcing her blade away from his vitals while jabbing his dagger into her main arm. He pushed up against her, jamming his dagger-tip repeatedly into her ribs. Her blade stabbed his shoulder, sliced open his cheek, and punctured lightly all up and down his left side, but it was far too late. Her strength faded, but Adakontus continued his furious stabs with clenched teeth. Adakontus grabbed her weak wrist and punched his blade into her throat. She crumpled. The bloodied victor, Adakontus stumbled back to his spot as the obelisk undid his wounds. Adakontus disliked stabbing that haughty diva to death. He wasn¡¯t one to delight in another¡¯s suffering. Who was he kidding? He loved it! His feral grin nearly ripped his face in half. Adakontus felt hypocritical for judging green-beard¡¯s savagery, but he also didn¡¯t care. When he reached his skeletal squires, they started wiping him down with damp cloths. That¡¯s new. Once nice and red, the skeletons dunked the rags in a nearby barrel and kept at it. All cleaned up, the skeletons suited Adakontus into his armor. Finally! After sitting on that mannequin and teasing him, the armor was his. Adakontus¡¯ lips pursed with excitement as the skeletons dropped the helm onto his head. Excitement soured to dread. Ice-rock armor plated Amolhekai, the deep blue stones banded together by riveted metal. A dagger clenched in its hands, and stood in the center of the arena. Those blue fires drilled into Adakontus¡¯ fearful eyes. Adakontus took deep calming breaths. So what if he was terrified? He was the best knife fighter, and with his armor on, he could only get stabbed less. What could go wrong?
Everything went wrong. As Amolhekai killed Adakontus over and over, his smidgen of hope died of dysentery and filled his heart with shit. Knife fighting in armor wasn¡¯t knife fighting at all. It was grappling. The knife came out at the very end, and only then to put down a defeated enemy. The one thing Adakontus excelled at was entirely useless! He was the best ass-naked knifeman. The supreme stripping stabber. The crazed cock-out cutter! His helm hid his shame. Barely. 7. Preparation Adakontus stepped onto the circular stone arena. The iron obelisk loomed in the arena¡¯s center, twice as tall as a man. Dried blood covered it all. Dried blood even covered dried blood, new red layered onto old brown. The arena smelled of death and iron, but Adakontus barely noticed the stink anymore. Black plate encased Adakontus, except for two rectangular eye slits. His hands held a four meter long sword-lance with familiar ease. A long dagger hung at his waist. An impressive visage, in his biased opinion. Adakontus¡¯ opponent bowed and introduced himself. ¡°Mazzalur Un.¡± Un¡¯s skin tone was milky white. His bald head contained a set of pupiless black eyes. He wore a bronze breastplate worn over a sleeveless, red-leather jacket that hung to his knees. His arms and legs were bare, and tattooed with black stripes. His wrinkled hand clutched a jagged war cleaver. In spite of all that, his most distinctive feature was the horizontal band of chromed silver that covered the bottom half of his face. The top started just below Un¡¯s nose and the bottom covered his chin. The band wrapped all the way around the back of his head. A fiendish smile ¡ª brandishing an uncomfortable amount of teeth ¡ª was embossed upon its surface. The man creeped Adakontus out. They all did. A whole wagon of Mazzalurs had arrived at the clearing: Mazzalur Un, Mazzalur On, Mazzalur Awn, ad nauseam. They numbered thirty in total, and appeared identical except each one used a different weapon. Most used blades of some type, like Mazzalar Un, but a few had exotic weapons. Mazzalur Aweg swung around a chain with a granite ram¡¯s head attached to the end. Adakontus dueled each of them at least three times now. ¡°Adakontus.¡± He bowed. ¡°Irist Sangus,¡± Mazzalur Un replied. He gave a second bow to Adakontus, and a third bow to Amolhekai who was bossing around some skeletal workers. The creeper wouldn¡¯t fight unless Adakontus participated in his little charade. Adakontus didn¡¯t know what ¡°Irist Sangus¡± meant, but it boiled down to ¡°Let¡¯s start this shit.¡± Adakontus¡¯ reach kept Mazzalur Un at bay. Un stood low, holding his weapon high and shifting it about. The cleaver snuck out of Adakontus¡¯ restricted vision temporarily. Un wrinkled his nose and leapt at Adakontus, who stepped back and slashed. A controlled twist of the waist, the short slash missed Mazzalur Un¡¯s exposed leg. Un¡¯s cleaver swiped at Adakontus¡¯ head and fell short. The pale man darted away. Adakontus leaned into a thrust. Un pushed the sword-lance aside, one hand on the hilt and another firmly on the cleaver¡¯s spine. The cleaver screeched. ¡°Hraaa!¡± Adakontus reeled his weapon back with a shout, and swung again. Mazzalur Un closed in, his cleaver flashing. Adakontus¡¯ helm rang, and his teeth clattered. The shaft of Adakontus¡¯ weapon slammed into Un¡¯s breastplate. Adakontus rotated the other way and smashed the pale man with the counterweight on the sword-lance¡¯s butt end. Mazzalur Un fell. Adakontus dropped his sword-lance and dove at his opponent. Mazzalur Un recovered, but Adakontus¡¯ tackle took them both to the ground. A gauntlet crushed a pale nose. Adakontus¡¯ dagger flew from its sheath and spiked towards Mazzalur Un¡¯s neck. He caught Adakontus¡¯ wrist, his black eyes narrowed in fury. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Adakontus tore at Un¡¯s face, ripping that silver mask off. Mazzalur Un¡¯s jaw split open like a pair of insect mandibles. No, he had insect mandibles! Three worm-like, black tongues writhed out of Un¡¯s exposed throat, howling like a plague of locusts. In his confusion, Adakontus almost missed the mutant reaching for his own dagger. He shoved a metal hand into Un¡¯s mouth, grabbed, and pulled. The mandibles clamped onto his hand harmlessly. Adakontus wrenched his dagger hand free, and buried the blade into Mazzalur Un¡¯s left armpit. The terrible noise fizzled out.
Once restored, Mazzalur Un and Adakontus bowed again. Un didn¡¯t seem angry about his unmasking, to Adakontus¡¯ relief. Adakontus stepped away from the arena and into the camp. Over the past few days, the arena¡¯s surroundings morphed into a bustling encampment. The skeletons scraped away the mushroom meadow, leaving loose, white earth. Rows of tarred canvas tents popped up. Skeletons sprinted down the aisles, completing their duties at full tilt. Amolhekai had a team building some sort of enclosure. Driving upright logs into the ground and connecting them with chains. The task took up most of its time. The thing was downright massive. Five covered wagons sat parked next to it, but the skeletons ignored them. Helm tucked under his arm, Adakontus walked through the camp. Wearing nothing but his underwear, Green-beard laid on his back, splayed out in the dirt. His listless eyes stared into overbearing, black sky. Adakontus sighed. Welcome to back to reality, bud. Despite all the happening, the atmosphere was downbeat. Adakontus dodged a few forlorn gazes. Lingering among the others killed his mood. ¡°Hello!¡± a cheery voice called to him. A purple skinned beauty waved Adakontus down. Her short blue hair gave her a girlish charm that conflicted with her extremely womanly body. She wore a thin black shirt and matching pants. Metal boots ¡ª identical to Adakontus¡¯, but smaller ¡ª covered her feet. She pointed to herself, ¡°Iozo.¡± Adakontus nodded. ¡°Yes, Iozo.¡± Aozo pointed at him. ¡°Adakontus.¡± She grinned. ¡°Yez?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Goot!¡± Aozo somehow deduced Adakontus ¡®awoke¡¯ before the others, and spent her free time trying to headbutt through the language barrier. She struggled with english, but refused to teach Adakontus her language. Figures. Iozo started to follow him, but he shooed her away. Her orange eyes narrowed accusingly, but she complied. Other than Iozo pestering Adakontus, the only voices came from the Mazzalur¡¯s edge of camp, where they huddled around a small campfire and murmured to each other. The students avoided the creepy bastards. Which is exactly why Adakontus set up near them. Adakontus arrived at his armor mannequin, where the waiting skeletons set about removing his armor. The others could mope around all they want, Adakontus relished the opportunity to catch up. He¡¯d won every fight against the Mazzalurs, so far, and mostly on the back of his armor. His missteps stemmed from the sword-lance. He envied the Mazzalurs¡¯ more practical weapons. Peeved, Adakontus spat onto a skeleton. It didn¡¯t care. They never did. Its bony fingers worked the straps of Adakontus¡¯ armor without pause, while the saliva rolled down its yellowed skull. Adakontus¡¯ heart sunk. The training was winding down, and he still had so much to learn. Amolhekai barely paid attention to the students, it pawned the arena onto the Mazzalurs. Adakontus was glad to have the monster out of his hair, but even so¡­ Once the training ended, the real combat began. Where death meant death. Adakontus yawned, which shocked him. He felt sleepy. He hadn¡¯t felt sleepy since this whole ordeal began. Tired, sure. He¡¯d worked his body to the bone, until his muscles burned and breathing hurt. But sleepy? Never. Finally out of his armor, Adakontus stretched. Being sleepy wasn¡¯t so terrible. Unclaimed tents made up most of the camp, with bedding already in them. He could just pick one and take a nap. That sounded nice. He yawned again. 8. Friends, New and Old Adakontus sat down at the restaurant table between Hierandos and Javiel. The boys could have been brothers, handsome with tanned skin and dark, fluffed up hair. They wore the same style of clothes. Tight leather coats wrapped their upper chests, stopping below the ribs, and unbuttoned to reveal far too deep V-necks. The coats¡¯ ridiculous, sharktail-shaped collars looked large and sturdy enough to flown as kites. Their narrow pants ended midway down the calf. Manicured toes stuck out of their sandals. The only difference between the boys was color. Javiel looked like someone had dropped a fruit basket in his washing machine. Oranges, pinks, and yellows as if he channeled ¡°Essence of Kool-Aid packet.¡± Diagonal stripes of silver and gold coated Hierandos. His shirt was black with flames. He told Adakontus earlier he¡¯d dress rich and passionate. Adakontus wore pure white. He considered his awkwardness and naivety his selling point. A shy, artistic man looking for his muse. The trio picked this particular table for a reason. Behind them was a wall of glass, granting a spectacular view of the city. Garden balconies decorated spires of reflective glass. Light bounced from pane to pane with mathematical precision, illuminating the flowering trees in perpetual bloom. The waiter approached, a bald man with a trimmed gray mustache wearing black shawl over a checkered jumpsuit. Javiel interrupted him, before a word left his mouth. ¡°Ah. We¡¯re waiting for three more.¡± The words tumbled out of his mouth. ¡°Undoubtedly. The reservation was for six,¡± the waiter intoned slowly. ¡°Do you sirs desire anything to drink?¡± ¡°Water,¡± all three boys repeated. ¡°I¡¯ll be just a moment.¡± Before the waiter returned, three girls sat down at the table, opposite of the boys. They dressed to impress: professional make-up, form-fitting, brand-name dresses, and enough rings, necklaces, and bracelets to buy ten politicians. A brown haired girl took her seat across from Adakontus. Her voluminous hair and myriad jewelries glimmered in the faint restaurant lighting. Adakontus¡¯ eyes rolled over her with the subtlety of a monster truck rolling over a stack of sedans. Her hair wasn¡¯t the only thing voluminous. She gave Adakontus her name, but he didn¡¯t catch it. Nor did he catch her curiosity turning to disappointment. The six engaged in overeager smalltalk and a dance of body language. A seventh sat off to the side, ignored by everyone. A second Adakontus, with a gaunt face and cautious eyes, slumped onto the table, and buried his face into his elbow. Emotions cut him, pity, embarrassment, and¡­ jealousy. He didn¡¯t want to be this dandy. Adakontus felt pride at what he¡¯d survived, what he¡¯d learned. But damned if he wouldn¡¯t swap places with the other Adakontus. Sitting around chatting with girls and eating nice food. The spoiled Adakontus did as he pleased, even if he was awful at it. Adakontus didn¡¯t want to go back. He tired of fighting. Even staying here as a shadow was better than¡­
Iozo kicked Adakontus awake. ¡°Hello, Hello, Helloooo?¡± ¡°Fucking what?¡± Adakontus bumped his face into the tent''s cloth roof. The purple woman with chin-length blue hair stood over him, dressed in black tights and metal boots. She smiled down at Adakontus. Adakontus stifled a groan, and prepared excuses. Whatever she wanted, it was surely annoying. Iozo snagged his elbow. ¡°Wait! Let me dress. I¡¯m in my underwear,¡± Adakontus whined. All he needed was to escape her grasp long enough to bolt.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Iozi tilted her head, his words uncomprehended. It was no use. Iozo dragged him out of the tent, and through the camp. She bounced up and down as she walked, and frequently glanced back at Adakontus. Her orange eyes glowed with curiosity and excitement. She smiled like a prankster with a jar of centipedes. They arrived at the log and chain enclosure. Eight vertical logs formed an octagon with five metal half-rings sticking out of each side. Chains dangled from the rings and rested in huge coils at the base of the logs. Odd, they were all hooked up when Adakontus went to sleep. Amolhekai stood, head tilted, tapping its ivory knuckles on its chin bone. Between two of the log pillars, four Skeletons laid face down in a straight line. Foot to skull to foot to skull, they barely fit between the logs. Amolhekai gestured, and the skeletons sprang up. The ran between the next two pillars, and the skeletons laid back down, again in a straight line. One, two, three, and the fourth one didn¡¯t fit. In a desperate attempt, it put its feet against the previous skeleton¡¯s skull, and slammed its head into the log. Its head slid down the log until it hit the dirt, leaving its butt sticking into the air. Amolhekai threw its hands into the air in frustration. Adakontus blinked, and tapped Iozo¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Thank you.¡± Confused, Iozo scrunched her lips. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°You showed me something amazing.¡± She shook her head. ¡°No! Show there.¡± Iozo pointed to some new, larger wagons. Twice as wide the old ones, these wagons looked like tall boxes with canvas draped over them. Bars poked out at the bottom of the covering. The wagons appeared to be cages on wheels. Huge cages. Hopping up and down to contain her energy, the purple woman lifted the canvas. She peeked into the cage. Then Iozo turned around and flashed a massive smile that swallowed her eyes, and put her white teeth and pink gums on full display. ¡°What? That?¡± She demanded playfully, eyes twinking. ¡°Huh? A wagon? A cage?¡± ¡°No! That!¡± Adakontus leaned towards the bars and strained his eyes. He saw nothing, but was reluctant to get closer. It smelled like stale shit. Thunk! Some kind of hairy lizard rammed its head into the bars. Startled, Adakontus jumped back. The lizard measured him with four curious, green eyes. The thing¡¯s head was more mouth than anything else. Its snout was short and flat like a salamander, and its sturdy bottom jaw jutted out. The lizard looked like it chewed rocks for fun. Red, boney plates protected its snout, chin, skull, and eyes. Sand-colored fur covered the gaps. Four bone spikes stuck out from beneath its chin. The lizard¡¯s body was frontloaded. A thick neck connected to hulking shoulders. More interlocking bone plates ridged its spine, and spread out over its shoulders and stocky forelegs. The size and spacing of the plates decreased as they ran down the forelegs, ending as thumbnail sized scales on its clawed feet. The fur resumed on its back, covering its potbelly and hind legs. Its hips narrowed compared to its shoulders, and a long, muscular tail extended behind it. Adakontus guessed the lizard three meters tip of the nose to tip of the tail, and at least half was the tail. In spite of its size, it appeared a juvenile. It had all the tells: oversized eyes, forehead, and feet. It looked kind of cute. Well, cuter than it could be. Not all animals are made equal. Iozo slapped his shoulder. ¡°What that?¡± she reminded. ¡°No idea,¡± Adakontus murmured. ¡°Never seen one.¡± Iozo went from playful to crotchety in an instant. ¡°Ugh! Adakontus know stuff! Why I show if you no know?¡± she grumbled. Ignoring her, Adakontus reached out to pet the lizard¡¯s nose. A gut feeling said it wouldn¡¯t hurt him. The lizard¡¯s nostrils flared and puffed air. It¡¯s eyes closed halfway. It had those weird double eyelids, one pair opening vertically and the other horizontally. A neon blue tongue snaked out of its mouth, past the cage and towards Adakontus. Iozo grabbed his hand, stopping him. ¡°No!¡± Iozo frowned, her orange eyes wide with concern. She animatedly shook her head, blue hair flapping. ¡°Maybe thing¡­ uh¡­¡± She searched for the word, physically looking around as though someone hid it nearby. Her frown deepened and deepened, until she gave up. She fixed Adakontus a pointed glare, and mimed biting her hand. ¡°Uh¡­ Bite?¡± Adakontus supplied. Iozo poked him hard in the chest. ¡°Yez! Maybe thing bited!¡± Adakontus sighed. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Why would sticking a hand into a giant lizard¡¯s cage be a good idea? What came over him? Iozo crossed her arms and nodded, pleased with her own wisdom. Eight eyes stared out of the cage, and four more popped up. There was more of them? Adakontus walked closer to the cage, but Iozo dropped the covering on his head. ¡°More word learn! Come!¡± She exclaimed, as she pulled Adakontus away. He looked back at the cage. 9. Uneven scales Mazzalur Uwon escorted Adakontus to the enclosure. The pale man¡¯s face smiled, even if his mandibles could not. Thankfully, a silver mask hid his disgusting maw. Adakontus did not know the cause of his summons, but Uwon¡¯s smug look troubled him. No doubt Amolhekai planned something terrible. The musclebound skeleton took great pains to build the enclosure, and certainly for a purpose. The enclosure was an octagon of eight log pillars webbed with chains, forming a fenced in area. Twelve wagons sat near the enclosure. Five were massive cages on wheels, hidden under brown canvas. The other seven were normal, open top wagons filled with barrels and crates. Adakontus recognized them. More importantly, they fit in. Made of rough wood and dark iron, the wagons were utilitarian, like the enclosure and the rest of the camp. Unfortunately, one object stood out like a lightning strike in a droughted grassland. A palanquin, resting on four, man-height stilts, watched over the enclosure. The palanquin frame was seamless aquamarine, as though carved from a singular, giant gemstone. Blue silk curtains obscured whoever ¡ª or whatever ¡ª was inside. Extremely luxurious and extremely foreboding, the palanquin decorated the camp like a jewel on a guillotine. Uwon led Adakontus to a specific corner, where a chain could be unhooked to create a gap in the fencing. Uwon fiddled with the fastenings while Adakontus peered through the chains. A sandy-furred lizard sprawled out in the middle of the space, partway buried in the chalky white dirt. The beast was bigger than a pony. It probably ate ponies. ¡°Am I supposed to go in there with that?¡± Adakontus whined. Uwon¡¯s smugness doubled. ¡°What¡¯s with that look? You can¡¯t even understand me.¡± He frowned and looked at the lizard again. ¡°Not like you need to. Bet you¡¯re glad you¡¯re not me.¡± Something about the lizard tickled Adakontus¡¯ brain. ¡°Is it a boy or a girl?¡± Adakontus asked. Uwon didn¡¯t respond. ¡°It was a dumb question anyway,¡± Adakontus muttered. He shut his mouth. Iron scraped on iron as Uwon unhooked the chains. Adakontus¡¯ curiosity won out. ¡°How can I explain...¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Adakontus pointed to the lizard to his crotch. ¡°Boy?¡± Uwon¡¯s face distorted in disgust. ¡°No, no, no!¡± Blushing, Adakontus rapidly shook his head. He formed an ¡®O¡¯ with his left hand. ¡°Girl?¡± He held up one finger with his right hand. ¡°Boy?¡± Uwon looked from one hand to the other, his mind churning. Abruptly, he doubled over and made a sound like a cicada having a seizure. Adakontus flinched, afraid Uwon would tear his mask off and bite him. Uwon shuddered and slapped his knee. He was laughing. When the Mazzalur regained control, he crouched down in the dirt and drew a stick figure in a skirt. ¡°Daweya.¡± Next to it Uwon drew a crude lizard, little more than a triangular head with a tail and four stick legs. ¡°Eskrit.¡± Next to the lizard, he drew a second lizard in a skirt. ¡°Daweskrit.¡± Uwon stood up and pointed to the lizard in the enclosure. ¡°Daweskrit.¡± Uwon put a hand on Adakontus¡¯ shoulder and pushed him towards the gap. Adakontus ducked into the arena, if only to escape his embarrassment. He stopped a couple meters short of lounging creature. The lizard¡¯s four, green eyes peered at Adakontus through lazy eyelids. It yawned, stretching its bright blue tongue, and wiggled out of the dirt. Adakontus nearly sprinted to the exit, but a sense of familiarity stopped him. He¡¯d met this lizard before. It wouldn¡¯t hurt him. He knew it. Adakontus walked towards the lizard, and both of them stopped within arms length. A standoff ensued as they studied each other. Adakontus wanted to rub its bumpy nose, scratch its fur, and hug it forever. He was also terrified. He felt like a lost father reunited with his young child. Emotions, all irrational, spun in Adakontus¡¯ heart. He stuck out a shaky hand and touched the lizard¡¯s snout. It grunted, and Adakontus winced, retracting his hand. The lizard froze, and Adakontus dared not move either. If it decided to kill him, he was dead. No way to outrun it. Alligators sprinted faster than men, and this thing looked much quicker than a gator. And fight it? Its bone plates would probably break a shark¡¯s jaw. His odds stunk even with his weapons. It leaned forward. Adakontus braced himself. It grunted again and nuzzled his leg. Relieved, Adakontus stroked its head. The lizard moved carefully, like a family dog around a newborn. She ¡ª if daweskrit meant what Uwon implied ¡ª appeared pretty smart for a giant lizard. Dinosaur noggins contained tiny brains, right? No, the lizard was a magic dinosaur, an adorable magic dinosaur. Those were smart. The whole situation smelled suspicious. Adakontus guessed more mind magickery was involved. Amolhekai ¡ª or whoever ran the show ¡ª turned the other students into braindead zombies, no reason they couldn¡¯t make a man and lizard best friends at first sight. Frowning, Adakontus scratched between the lizard¡¯s nose plates. His new friend wasn¡¯t a friend at all. She was a dangerous tool controlled, owned, and used by something else. The lizard was just like him.