Chapter 18: Undertaking

I finish skinning the fassars then I start drying the hides on wooden stakes I made with my father's knife. I indulge upon the cooked meat as no one else desires any. The meat's tough and stringy, but Deluge morphs my back teeth, so I grind and slice the flesh like soft bread. I borrow a guard's sword then lop the heads off the fassars as well.

The hide of a fassar yields fortunes for their quality and purpose. The malleable, soft fur and skin guises assassins during night without leaving them cold. The striped hide also creates a blur for the viewer when shaken, so they and thieves donning the outfit gain an advantage during night skirmishes.

I drag the leftover meat from my binge earlier until I am far downwind of our camp. I complete the grueling task with the help of some guards then I rest weary from wear.

---------------------------

I revive from slumber before the crack of dawn. I discover the fassar hides unharmed and dry, so I collect them. A few crows peck at the decaying fassar skulls, so I shoo them away then stock them within the back of the carriage. Once we reach the university, hiring someone for processing the coats will cost an aggregation of money, but selling them will prove lucrative.

Afterwards I investigate the trail from which the pack originated. The beasts followed the carriage for three miles deriving from the tracks, and Deluge informs me he smells something strange upwind. I scout ahead of the carriage revealing the corpse of a deer in a bear trap. The fassars must have smelt the body then assumed that we were the prey when they reached us.

I transfer the day old carcass using some of Deluges augmentations then I start a fire burning the corpse with the fassars so we no longer attract predators. The aroma of cooking meat strangely reinvigorates my hunger when Deluge says,

“I can safely ingest this food. I can sterilize the meat outside of your body if necessary,” he asks with his own form of empathy.

I reply hastily, “I would rather not eat the rotting corpses of these animals.”

“Give me control. I shall eat them in your stead.”

I ponder for a moment. Deluge never enjoys any physical sensations, and he ensures my safety. Granting him at least some modicum of pleasure will surely be justified. I nod my head then Deluge grasps control.

The same peaceful sensation envelops me as Deluge’s hunger and satisfaction at consuming the prey glides within me. Deluge brutalizes the prey during the feeding process, but he maintains some semblance of civility, so I squirm only slightly at his dilapidated mutations.

He consumes a colossal amount of meat then I return back toward the camp.

The sun finally rears itself in all of its glory. The warmth hit me as the guards wake from dormancy. Antoinette sinks into herself as though her persona imploded yesterday so utterly that shame assails me. Her cheeks lack color as her demeanor shrivels.

I approach her, yet Antoinette suspends mutely because of my display during the fassar incident. I juggle my options in my head. Should I apologize trying to make her feel better, or should I enjoy my work? She bred animosity within me with her every word. Her silence tastes like the bittersweet chocolate I had at her house. Eventually I apologize.

I say after grabbing her attention, “Antoinette. I wasn't myself last night. I asserted my way of life on you in an cruel, improper way spurred within wrath. Your comments earlier cut me deeper than I had expected, so I reacted inadequately. I ask for forgiveness.”

She breaks eye contact, “I’m sorry as well. I thought we were dead. The guards said that a single fassar can kill three men. A pack will slaughter whole caravans, yet you didn't just hold them back. It was dark, but I saw some of your struggle. You were vicious. You.”

She paused for a second then said grimly, “You killed three by yourself with only a knife. One of the fassars looked like a demon ate its neck. Another looked like you stabbed your knife through its skull. The other didn’t even have visible wounds. You were right.”

Her eyes aquify as she says, “I'm just a pampered little school girl.”

She looks down and cries. My stomach plunges as her blouse grows tiny droplets of wet. My mind struggles for anything that may stop her tears, but neither method nor words present themselves.

Deluge then says, “She deserves her pain. She lacks perspective and sympathy for others.”

Antoinette doesn't lack sympathy. She lacks something else. I grind the thoughts in my head, but nothing comes of it. I look towards her then say,

“You aren't forced to remain a school girl. You can change. I will show you how.”

I put my hand on on her shoulder then conclude, “A crying girl pains all those around her. Let's go to Mareovosa.”

I then turn towards the carriage where I help prepare the horses. Antoinette mutely enters the carriage, but her hands clench tightly. This is good. I step inside the carriage noticing I weigh more than before. The feast of Deluge probably grows me as I contemplate. Better I grow now rather than at the university. Clever alien.

The carriage mobilizes, and I now encroach Mareovosa. The academy’s reputation foretells itself as the pinnacle of academia and learning across the world. I anticipate the environment with some nervousness but primarily doubt. The school will no doubt have a rigorous cast system in place preventing my advancement through the echelons.

Mareovosa surely has at least some meritocracy. The likelihood that the university gained its entire reputation from false rumors sounds improbable. The degree from such a prestigious entity will prove useful on its own regardless. Having a certification will no doubt ensure a decent future at least in theory.

Deluge contradicts. “I doubt the humans will have much of value. The tutor you gained knew nothing of how the human body operated. These humans pool their shallow knowledge together, but they form only a puddle within an ocean of knowledge.

I reply quizzically, “Even the smallest of puddles can become an ocean. How do you believe the real oceans started?”

Deluge states flatly, “I do not know.”

“That may be something we learn here, though I distrust their knowledge of the human body over yours,” I reply with genuity.

Deluge exaggerates, “Rightfully so. My understanding is absolute.”

“Without doubt.” I pause then continue excitedly. “I pray they have many teachers of music well versed in harps and song!”

Deluge scoffs demeaningly, “Knowing you humans, they surely will have conquered such a meaningless study.”

I reply impishly, “And knowing alien parasites, they only attempt ripping human souls then mashing them together aimlessly.”

“Better than wasting time playing a harp.”

I chide, “My point is disregarding speculations off of one experience.”

he rebukes smugly, “Better to act off of thoughts than nothing at all.”

I reply equally smug, “Better to not act then to act foolish.”

“Alright you've made your point,” he grumbles.

The carriage crosses through a narrow pass then turns revealing a collection of buildings widely varying in uses. The initial town scape remains like many others though the buildings incorporate more stone with wooden buttresses. The larger buildings easily tower several hundred feet with multilevel heights interwoven throughout.

The surrounding mountains pale stone mimics the surfaces of the buildings creating a shining sculpture across the horizon. Several buildings possess curving roofs with windows lining the sides. Stone fortresses both square and orthodox barrier the other taller buildings. Several fields lace the surroundings of the back of the conglomerate edging against the forest.

The cerulean windows coalesce with the stone creating a white sanded ocean with pools of crystal water. The view unnerves then begrudgingly amazes me. The architecture transcends and exceeds my expectations. It expands my wildest imaginings.

Deluge gasps, “This was done by humans?”

I sit in silence.

“How can your kind know so little of yourselves, yet understand the world so clearly?”

“I don’t know Deluge. This will be our best prospect of figuring out.”

What once was dread gives way before the shattering force of anticipation. What will I learn here? What secrets may be unraveled? What darkness enlightened? Questions grow until they surge out towards Antoinette. I contain myself no longer.

“What majesty is this?”

Antoinette replies surprised, “This is Mareovosa. Just a bunch of buildings and smart people.”

I respond baffled, “What do you mean just? These towering, magnificent constructs grace my eyes with bliss. How can you not be exalted?”

Antoinette replies glumly, “I have been here before. That's how I was accepted. They usually go through some screening process. I hated it. They test and do measurements for your uniform.”

“What do they teach here?” I ask jittering slightly.

“They teach anything you could imagine really,” she replies with apprehension. “I will be learning about design and geniality.”

“Wondrous. I will learn of everything beneath the sky and above this earth. I feel the aspirations from here!” I say with sincerity.

“Don’t you think you should calm down. The other kids will think you're a loser,” Antoinette replies inching away.

I reply dismissively, “Any that discredit enthusiasm shall not be allies of mine.”

Antoinette breaks eye contact as though watching a snake snap at her neck. Her face reddens while she reopens the book she holds.

I ask bewildered, “What is it Antoinette? What flushes you so?”

“You're just.” She pauses. “You're just so embarrassing. I can’t help but wince sometimes.”

I reply principally, “Wince before pain, not dignity. I will not mask myself before others. I have many enemies already. What is but a few more?”

She replies cautiously, “Once you get a reputation it's super hard to stop it. The kids can be vicious.”

“We don’t have to be friends Antoinette. I doubt we will be in the same classes either way.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t want to not have other friends.”

“Then wait until my reputation is known. Then you may find some reassurance of your esteem.”

“What?”

I reply with patience, “You will understand I am a person with value, and then you will try being friends with me. At least that is what I foresee occurring.”

She replies dully, “I don’t understand half of what you say.”

I reply lazily, “I don’t expect you to.”

She sighs then returns to her book. I rehearse my lessons as we pass over a bridge leading towards an arch over the entrance of the school. A man in a sterling suit of gold and blue greets our carriage as we stop. Several men stand by his side with clean, simple clothes that then start grabbing our luggage. I dash outside the carriage and stop one of the men before the sterling man stops me.

He says hastily, “Woooo. Calm down there. I am a receptionist for your stay here at Mareovosa. These men will take your luggage towards your rooms while I explain some things.”

I reply caustically, “Prove your origin, and I shall let your wishes unfold.”

He replies with good humor, “So Geralt didn't lie about the way you talk. Very,” he pauses shortly, “Dramatic. Either way he has deemed you worthy of his protection so I shall obey. Please follow me towards the opening hall.”

“No proof presents itself,” I say.

“Oh yes, of course. Here is a note from Geralt about the whole thing. It has his signature and writing if you've seen it.”

I reply with relief, “Then I will accept your patronage. What is your name?”

“I am Sergey Kovalev. I administer some business here, and Geralt has assisted me in the past, So this favor means little, but I am glad to help. This way then.”

We walk under the arch into a courtyard winding with paths and walkways throughout the campus. We shift near a wall outside of a white stoned building then I notice the other students. They wear a weird outfit. The clothing reminds me of the cold.

I remember. The two girls I had seen while bathing outside wore the same outfit. They may still be here. The shame of the moment returns to me, but I rock the feeling away and focus as Sergey speaks.

He whispers, “Jack. What is your last name?”

I whisper back, “I can’t use it here. These are noble people with their hands in legal matters. They will use it against me if they reference my past.”

“Ah you are aware of the custom, well Geralt has prepared the necessary documents to falsify your past. We shall finish them after you have told me your last name.”

“Donovan.”

“What? Donovan? I was told you are a mere son of innkeepers not of aristocratic lineage.”

“My father abandoned his house for my mother. I am dirtied blood.”

He opens and closes his mouth then says, “Well, the falsifying will not change most likely as the Donovans live continents away. They also use their own university for their children rather than send them here.”

He clears his throat and continues, “You just have to act normal and not mention your parents lineage. Introduce yourself as Jack Donovan to your classes. Tell no one and no one shall know. Geralt has given you a normal standing here at this school so enjoy your time. Any questions?”

I ask, “Where is our rooms. I wish to center myself so I may map my location.”

Sergey replies , “Uhh. Of course. Towards the west of the central statue there is the residential district. There you will be in the junior dorms in room eight of the second room for juniors of the class.”

“Then I shall be off. Thank you for your assistance.”

“I have a map here for you both. I was going to show you around campus. Don’t you want a tour?”

“I would rather read in the library or study the map.” He hands me the map. “Thank you Sergey for your assistance.”

I maroon the two towards the library. As I pass the students on the way, I note several traits of my classmates. Their smooth palms refrain labor while their heads bend back sneering at the workers and guards around the grounds as though they nothing more than beasts of burden. Several students even enslave escorts for their bidding such as toting supplies or reading notes.

I quell my natural instinct for judgment and walk towards my room. The dorms regality matches the universities as the pale stone and blue windows shine brightly in the winter sun. The oaken doors produce loud, heavy thumps as students shove them open some even struggling with the arduous task.

I walk in the building reaching an overseer reach for a sheet of paper as I walk up.

The older student asks with a light tone, “What is your name, age, and year?”

I reply, “I am Jack Donovan. I am 13 years of age, and this will be my first year attending.”

He looks from his paper in surprise then asks, “You're only thirteen? Really? I've only seen your type a few times. Surprises everyday. Your room will be down hall B number eight. Your luggage has arrived.”

He reaches with a stack of papers then continues, “These are maps of the grounds with markers for each important building. First years attend school within the four near here. I hope you enjoy Mareovosa.”

He scribbles on a ledger then starts organizing papers. I leave him to his devices then enter the hallway. The same oaken doors guard these rooms as the building, so I shove my door as several students did.

The door slams open popping loudly. I use my foot as a doorstop while putting my hands on the sides of my head. I sprint inside the room then gently close the door. I hope no one saw that. A guy was already in the room with fiery red hair with well muscled physique. He was shorter than me by about two inches, but he surely weighed more.

He puts his hand off of his chest then extends his hand while saying, “Wow. You really scared me there. The name's Luke Baring. I’m your roommate. Good to meet you.”

I shake his hand noticing his strong grip, “It is good to meet you. I am Jack Donovan.”

We stop shaking hands then we both start unpacking when Luke ganders for conversation, “So why did you come to Mareovosa?”

“I came to learn the secrets of this world. Why did you?”

“I was forced by my parents. I was always more of an athlete. This school stuff was never for me. I just want to fight.”

I say with experience, “Praise the days were battle placates to peace. War is only enjoyable in dreams and for the insane.”

“Wooo. What are you saying?”

“Battle is pain,” I say bluntly.

Luke replies simply, “I don’t think pain is always bad.”

I reply oratorically, “The pain in battle often deforms and mangles the fighters present. They also often battle pointlessly like an infection of blight withering limbs wasting time and wasting life.”

He pauses for a minute, “You are right about war. Fighting isn't war. I just want to play sports that involve fighting.”

I reply understandingly, “Then your passions are sound. I myself have had to fight many times. There is exhilaration in it, though the fear melded equalizes the endeavor for me. I think of fighting as a necessity rather than leisure..”

He replies slowly, “Uhhh. Could you please tone down the errr.” He twirls his hands expectantly.

“Fluency?”

He replies sternly, “I guess. It is hard to follow. You will not make allies. It's like you're trying to sound smart or make me sound dumb.”

I reply after a moment's thought placing each word as I say it, “I am sorry. I talk that way. Sorry for the insult. I am new to this conversational style.”

He smiles then slaps my back, “You don’t have to try that hard. Just don’t over complicate words and we are square.”

I reply, “Then I thank you for your acceptance.”

“You wanna go to the sporting arena? I heard they even have gem-fights.”

“What are gem-fights?”

“They are battles using charged crystals. Only the very elite battle this way because it's expensive. You have to use jewels storing the energy of creatures souls.”

Deluge gasps, “Your kind uses creatures souls for killing each other? Find them. I shall shove rocks in their mouth then smash their jaws together.”

I think back, “Calm down Deluge. They probably just use a creature's heat or life force. Can you even console a creature?”

Deluge responds defensively, “It’s not a matter of consolidation. A creature's soul is their mind and experience. All minds are sacred as are all experiences.”

Luke replies, “Are you ok?”

“Yes, I have never heard reference or mention of these battles. They are bewildering.”

“Uh. Yeah I guess they are. I never heard of them either till I entered the university. Apparently very few can charge gems though anyone can use the gems that are charged.”

“I imagine paying for the labor required in mining the gem, refining it, killing the creature, collecting the soul,and transport would be unwieldy.”

“Uh. Yeah. You can wield them though. I just said that?” Luke questions sincerely.

“I meant the process involved with the creation of the items couldn't be carried through by one person practically.”

“Ohhhh. Why not just say that?”

“Ever since I was young I have spoken this way. I read many books of olden times. I learned of songs written with purpose and prose. The writers guided their audience with more than words and harmony. They used the very way the language is written to complement their songs. I emulate with my echo.”

“That makes sense I guess. still hard to follow. you wanna watch the gem fights?”

Deluge shouts, “I shall not watch them rend souls for such voidful acts.”

I reply with metaphorical scales in each hand, “We can do nothing to stop them Deluge. Why not at least see what they involve? If I were to participate you could absorb the souls used in my weaponry as well. We would be able to save half of the souls used this way.”

Deluge ominously concludes, “You shall be held to that promise.”

We enter a walled field bedded with sand. Piles of gray, flat glass litter the ground while soggy spots with small brushes and tunnels clutter the landscape. Mounds of earth erupt from the sand as though a cyclops under the earth charged into its earthen roof. An amalgamation of scents purge the air of normality. The whole arena screams chaos.

We arrive near a sparse crowd with two combatants fighting. They utilize a round shield on one arm with a metal pipe in the other. They both where metal gauntlets and helmets covering their neck while they swing the weapons on each other’s shields. The scene appears vaguely similar with normal sword fighting although the emphasis towards defense sets the battle apart.

I ask Luke, “They clash like swordsmen.”

He replies with a shrug, “Yeah. I thought it would be different. I guess not.”

A woman stands in a robe that reaches inches above her feet. She stands both strut and tall with a confidence bred from years of training. Her sharp eyes scan the fight while she shouts out commands with stubborn tenacity.

“Keep your shoulders tight!”

“Keep your elbows in!”

“Stand on your feet!”

“Time your chains!”

The combatants stay planted as they bash with their shields and swing their pipes until someone loses balance after mistiming a swing falling them sideways. The other combatants shield aurates brown then he dashes forward stomping his leg with a charged, practiced motion. An Earthen pillar bashes his enemies helmet jarring a foot before he hits the ground knocking him unconscious instantly.

The proctor shouts, “Good job Florence. You took the opportunity splendidly.”

The other fighter regains their awareness then stands up and brushes off its armor. He shakes the hand of the other combatant then walks off with several friends who pat his back while offering words of encouragement.

Luke runs up while shouting toward the proctor, “Hello! Will you let me and my friend try out? We want to see what the gem fights are like.”

The supervisor disdainfully says, “If you want to tryout you have to go through a fitness exam then you get to practice against other beginners if you pass. The stations over at the athletics building.”

She points at a portion of the wall without glancing near the back where Luke and I then travel. We reach the clerk at the front who makes us change into mobility inclined shorts and short sleeves.

We move outwards to a field where an instructor has a group of over forty students waiting. We line up and he gives us a simple order after waiting a few minutes making sure no one else appears. Run.

So we run. Luke charges out with a speedy dash while I pace myself behind the pack. The coach said run; not for how long. We gait around the field many times. Heat builds in my body as sweat drips down my forehead. Luke scrambles from his early speed while I lap him several times. Soon enough, someone stops running then the coach shouts,

“Get off the field. You fail.”

The student throws his hands up in frustration while he gasps for air. He throws his hands away like he's throwing a blanket off his head as several other students follow his fate. Luke eventually matches his pace with mine, so we end up lapping the other contestants several times. Despite my physical advantage with Deluge, Luke manages keeping up with my jog rather well.

Eventually the forty that started shave down until Luke and I with eight others hear his next order.

“Stop. You can all return to the break room out back. The next portion of the exam will be in ten minutes.”

We all walk inside the designated room heaving heavily. Water awaits us. I guzzle a ridiculous amount when Luke says, “Don’t drink that much. We have another test soon. The water will slosh in your stomach making you puke.”

I nod my head, “I take in water quickly.”

Luke drinks after in small sips with thirty second intervals. I relieve myself in an adjacent bathroom then walk outside with Luke where an older student has the same pipes used during the conflicts. The handle dons a black gem with a finely cut brown crystal within the sockets at the center of the blade. They gleam within their metallic prisons like stars ripped from the sky.

The coach orders Luke and I to line ourselves in front of pairs of the armor then we put on the suits they used earlier. The armor weighs around twenty pounds though not as constricting as I envisioned. The other contestants walk from the break room when two other students fail the trial for returning late. The older student then walks up and swings his pipe.

The metal crashes against my helmet, but my head only moves only ever so slightly as I brace my balance with my left leg after the impact. I duck underneath his next blow then immediately throw a heavy hook using my left gauntleted hand pounds the enemy against his right side covered in only a thin sheet of leather.

The older student drops his pipe choking puke through his helmet while cringing over. He then drops on his knees while starting to breath sharp, short breaths rapidly. Fear beats through my veins as I look around while yelling,

“Someone help! I don’t understand what's going on!”

The coach jogs up then spits on the shambling student. He then says, “Serves you right for what you did.” He beholds me with accustomed surprise. “How the hell did you manage that?”

“His first attack proved weak and frail. He swung once more, so I retaliated in kind.”

“You knocked out a 2nd year gemchain with your fist. He was a nasty one, but he was the only one willing to be a part of this ugly business. “ He picks up the pipe beside the student. “I’ll explain in his stead. You all are supposed to be hit with this pipe without explanation but with warning.”

He rests the pipe across his shoulders then continues, “Prepare yourself.”

He rears his pipe back then collides the dull object against Luke’s face with an ear grating crash. The impact knocks him sideways. Luke lands on his shoulders for a moment then slowly pushes himself back up. He wobbles slightly but straightens rather quickly.

The coach then performs the same action on everyone else like a sadistic troll crushing wolfs with his club. Four of the other students fall for longer than ten seconds. Those who do immediately hear a resounding, “Fail.” During the charade, the older student slowly stands back up and hobbles away towards the break room.

The process leaves four remaining students for his teaching so he shouts after leaving for several minutes then returning, “You shall fight against each other in pairs. Whoever wins the fights will move on to the next trial.”

As I walk toward the sand field from earlier I marvel at Deluge’s strengths. If I received this exam within my old body, my failure impels itself as the only outcome of such hefty demands. With Deluge’s enforcing, I control the tests rather easily as the blow from earlier left no damage. I also lack the exhaustion present with the other members.

I approach the fielded area where I pair against an older student who I never saw running the track. His frame sets into a practiced stance as he moves upward to fight me. His gem-fighting vastly surpasses my own, so I set myself into a mobile trelling stance. Trying to mimic the earlier tactics will end in failure as he has trained them.

My only avenue for victory is to drag him down to my level then beat him through experience. The coach offers me a pipe and shield. I accept only the weapon as the shield contradicts my fighting style. The defense weighs me down like fighting in mud.

I move the pipe above my face angling the object down in both hands. My enemy braces his shield against his shoulder slanting his body so his shield faces me. The stance leaves no frontal weaknesses, but his back remains open.

I shift forward until I reach my striking distance. The foe jabs outwards with a thrust extending his body. I turn my hand slicing diagonally downward parrying then I continue the swing turning myself completely around. His thrust left him outstretched, so as he regains his distance, I close it with the forward turning motion.

The pipe in my hand gains momentum and density as I swing further around until the blow launches against his shield contusing the metal inwards. The pressure rebounds as one of my adversaries feet leaves the ground while I fling backwards violently.

I tumble and turn as the sand and sky gyrate my vision. I halt then push myself up rapidly finding my enemy just standing there gasping deeply.

I advance with measured steps quickly until I near him. He swings his pipe wildly hitting my arm at a slant. The blow slides off my left side while I drop my pipe turning my body forward while I torque my forward momentum through my hips and over into my right hand.

My gauntlet swings up penetrating the sky. The foe rapidly lifts his shield. My plan succeeds.

I rapidly pull the blow downwards while pulling the swing closer to my body. The punch clips his shield before smashing against his helmet catching on the wired guard on his face.

The collision twists his face violently before dragging his body downwards smashing his head against the sand with a muffled thump. I lift myself by dragging my body upwards before I look back at the coach. I remove my helmet finding him standing with his jaws agape.

He shouts, “We got a certified prodigy here! Taking down two experienced gemchains in one day! I have never seen-”

I shout in outrage, “Why am I fighting experienced fighters?”

The coach stumbles for a second then says, “Well. You took out the other guy so easily. I wanted to see what you could do boy.”

I grimace in disgust, “You shall see no more. I shall not join a league that risks the lives of their athletes for their teacher’s experiments.”

I remove my helmet while dropping my pipe. The coach dashes towards me and places his hand on my shoulder then says reproachably, “Now listen son, I didn't mean nothing by it. You gotta calm down and think this through. Being a talented gemchain can give you many opportunities here at the academy. You can receive a lot of funding and fame if you start winning tournaments.”

“Tell me where the other gemchain trainer is,” I say curtly.

He responds like he's poking an angry bear, “Now now, there isn't a need for that. Petra’s training is ruthless. She’ll leave you-”

I interrupt rationally, “Does she force experienced fighters to test new gemchains?”

He grimaces, “Of course she does. Thats the-”

I turn while walking away. Deluge snarls in my mind, “This mongrel spits lies.”

I reply peeved, “I noticed. He hands contracts with a knife in his other hand behind his back. My trust is nullified.”

Deluge concludes satisfied. “Then we concur. My mind rests easy knowing you are no fool.”

I return towards the office for athletics and ask, “I wish for gemchain coaching from Petra.”

The advisor says, “Petra only advises the senior students who wish for war or careers after their graduation. You can’t be under her instruction.”

I reply sternly, “So you decide who she teaches?”

He replies bewildered, “Well no. I just know who and why she teaches. A first year who fails his fitness exam stands no chance at getting her instruction.”

“I reply forebodingly, “I will handle that. Tell me where she is.”

He stammers, “If you want to be expelled she’s across the field in the gemchaining building.”

I reply while turning, “Thank you.”

I trot towards the building where Petra resides across the field. Learning combat from a trained professional increases my chances of living dramatically. Dissolution and doom stalk my every movement as this world seems hellbent on the ruination of my life, so I will behave in kind. I will train until these threats no longer curse me.

I open the doors to the building noticing their heft. The atmosphere changes completely as sweat and leather assault my nose. The calloused hands here give way to broad shoulders with muscular builds. Only a few females dot the landscape, but their bodies harden and flex like moving granite. Scars mangle the hands and shoulders of the warriors here.

I approach Petra who talks with a student then turns around surprised at my presence. She looks around in irritation then looks back at me. She then says firmly, “What are you doing here boy? Leave now.”

I reply loudly, “I wish for your instruction on combat Professor Petra.”

She laughs harshly, “So you want me to waste my time on a little shit? Go get your parents to pay for private tutors.”

I yell louder, “So this is how this guild operates? You don’t even give chance for those who wish to measure their mettle? I expected more Petra.”

She bores holes through my eyes. After a moment she replies, “So you believe yourself tough brat? I shall show you hell.”

I reply with absolute confidence and fire, “I swim in an ocean of souls and fight creatures who omen doom. I see hell's horrors, and I alone remain uncorrupted. This shall be no hardship. I shall not consign to oblivion.”

Petra smiles ominously, “So the poet wants my tutoring. I’ll give you a lesson you can’t forget.”

I reply grimly, “You shall receive a force that relentlessly pulverizes through fate.”