“Your goal is to defeat your opponent.”

“Round One - Fight starts in 3...2...1!”

As soon as the countdown turned to zero, Dimitri immediately saw the masked figure running straight towards him. The unknown man’s eyes remained blank as if completely devoid of fear, his movement agile yet calculated.

Bracing for impact, Dimitri quickly adjusted his position to a fighting stance, his right foot behind his left. He slightly positioned his left arm in front of his body while his rear fist stayed close to his face, both elbows protecting his ribs.

Before reaching the middle of the platform, Dimitri noticed the masked figure doing some weird hand gestures. Not long after that, two identical clones appeared right beside the original. All three of them looked alarmingly real, not just mere illusions.

As all three figures dashed past the middle of the platform, the two clones suddenly deviated course and gained momentum. Both seemed fixated on flanking Dimitri’s left and right sides. The original masked figure’s trajectory, on the other hand, remained the same, his speed slightly slower than the other two.

Seeing the two clones already pulling out their sabers, Dimitri decided to strike first. He had all three foes dangerously near. Although the original masked figure still had his saber inside the sheath on his back.

Without warning, Dimitri ran towards the clone on his right. With his peripheral vision, he could still see his other two opponents closing in on him. His plan was simple: take down one opponent at a time.

“Arghh!” But before he could even reach his target clone, Dimitri felt a sharp pain tearing through the back of his neck. This sudden strike caused him to lose his balance, momentarily losing any control of his muscles. He instantly felt his entire body plunging to the ground.

“Son of a b*tch!” Dimitri, now on the ground face down, yelled upon seeing droplets of blood on the floor near his face. Throbbing pain still lingered on his nape as though his head had just been sliced off.

“Are you seriously trying to get me killed?”

Dimitri, still squirming from the pain, promptly latched on to his nape with both hands, trying to prevent any further loss of blood. To his surprise, however, both his nape and bodysuit remained intact. He didn’t feel any open wounds nor any blood flowing out.

Before Dimitri could even make sense of what had happened, he heard an automated voice reverberating throughout the entire platform.

“Round One - Defeat!”

***

“I was wrong.” With a smug face, Armand, together with Mikhail, finally appeared just off the barrier closest to Dimitri. “There really might be something wrong with your head.”

Armand sat on what seemed to be a slab of stone cut off from one of the battered columns while Mikhail, sans his mini virtual screen, remained standing beside him.

“How are you not able to at least block that simple attack?”

“Oh, f*ck off!” Ignoring Armand’s condescending look, Dimitri immediately looked around the platform only to see all of his opponents gone. Only that extremely annoying word ‘Defeat’ hanging mid-air at the center of the platform served as a reminder of his humiliating loss.

He checked his back and nape again, scrutinizing every possible source of the blood he had been seeing on the floor. Everything seemed fine. He felt no actual open wounds.

About to stand, Dimitri felt blood still dripping down from his face. He swiftly traced it back to his nose. Without delay, he turned to the AI butler with a questioning look. “Were those things real?”

“The combat simulation program is a continually evolving system, Dimitri.” With a serious expression, Mikhail started to explain its mechanics. “The program learns something new after every fight. So you could say it is as close to reality as it can be.”

“The pain you are feeling now, however, is only amplified by your bodysuit.”

“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, pus*y!” Armand suddenly interjected, his patience obviously running thin. “Enough with the chit chat. Here, I’ll give you another chance to select a weapon.”

A virtual screen filled with a variety of weapons appeared right in front of Dimitri. He could not see any timer this time around.

“Let’s move on to the next round, shall we?”

“Like I mentioned earlier, why do I even have to fight?” Dimitri asked Armand firmly, his gaze piercing through the other man’s eyes.

“Well, you are an assassin, aren’t you?” Armand replied sarcastically, his face clearly showing disbelief. “Why don’t you use your brain? What do assassins like ourselves do for a living?”

“If you couldn’t even fight at all, of what use will you be to The Council?”

“I couldn’t even remember being one.” Dimitri mumbled to himself, enough for Armand and Mikhail to hear. Partially resigned to his fate, he mindlessly selected a simple type of sword, the only weapon he could remember using, just to get this whole fiasco over and done with.

“What makes you think this combat simulation program could make me become an assassin again real fast?”

“We’ll never know unless we try, won’t we?” Armand grinned, seeing Dimitri finally choosing a weapon from the virtual screen. “In our world, it’s either kill or be killed. Choose your options wisely, Bogeyman!”

“Ahem.”

“Dimitri, before we proceed, let me give you a few words of caution!” Ignoring the slightly heated exchange between his two wards, Mikhail spoke matter-of-factly. His indifferent attitude played down the gravity of Dimitri’s current situation.

“Please bear in mind that there is a high probability of dying for real with multiple virtual reality deaths.”

“The mind can only handle such damage up to a certain extent.” To prove his point, Mikhail pulled out a few virtual screens that displayed some videos of people actually dying during simulated combat. “Without the mind, the body merely becomes an empty shell.”

“You already completed the combat simulation program five years ago!” Mikhail continued, his indifference slowly turning into concern. “And with ease, if I may add. There shouldn’t be any reason why you would not be able to complete it this time, even with amnesia, right?”

“Figure out a way to fight!” Mikhail warned ruefully. “Otherwise, only death awaits you.”

“What? Afraid now?” Unable to hide his smirk, Armand instantly snapped his fingers, and the timer’s countdown resumed on the platform.

“Shape up or die trying!”