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

Without delay, both parties decided to strike first. They rushed towards the middle of the platform as soon as the countdown turned zero. Both ran at full speed, seemingly anticipating their inevitable head-on collision.

Dimitri’s serious expression concealed his renewed vigor to fight while the masked figure’s eyes remained blank. Both exuded an intense murderous aura, uncannily similar, yet different. Dimitri consciously relied on his instincts while the masked figure simply mindlessly went through the motions of fighting.

Carrying his sword with his right hand, Dimitri ran a bit slower than his foe. Before the fight started, he brandished his sword, practically weightless in his hands, with ease. However, he didn’t expect the sword to be heavier during combat simulation which dragged his movements down.

The masked figure, on the other hand, maintained more or less the same speed as in the first round. With a few hand gestures, he summoned his two clones. Both clones appeared in front of the original masked figure, all three in a zigzag formation.

Dimitri immediately noticed his opponents’ new stance. This sudden change confirmed his theory that each round would be quite unique. He would either have to adapt to his opponents’ ever-changing style of attack or face defeat.

Without any hesitation, Dimitri deliberately took the initiative to hasten his pace. He held his sword pointed forward with both hands. This position aimed to skewer the nearest masked figure.

As soon as Dimitri hit the nearest masked figure, it vanished and turned into smoke. The smoke covered Dimitri, blurring his vision, hiding his other two opponents. He ran past the smoke and found his other two opponents gone.

Dimitri looked back to see the smoke behind him as he ran past it. From the hidden depths of the smoke, a sword suddenly appeared and stabbed him. Dimitri fell to the ground.

“Round Two - Defeat!”

***

“Round Three - Defeat!”

“Again!” Looking bored, Armand snapped his fingers, instantly resetting the combat simulation countdown.

“Wait!” Dimitri pleaded in exhaustion from all the fighting he had to go through. He pushed himself up and sat on the floor, enduring the excruciating pain in his back.

“Mikhail, I want to see the recap videos of the previous three rounds.”

“Does it even matter?” With a disappointing look, Armand argued, his condescending tone dripping with sarcasm. “I think you already know what your opponents are capable of.”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Dimitri countered rudely, wiping the beads of perspiration running down his face. “Mikhail, I want to see them now.”

“Sure, why not?” Mikhail shrugged, adjusting his spectacles. “You would not be able to proceed to the next level anyway, until you clear this one.”

Mikhail waved his hand. Three virtual screens appeared. Each screen showed a replay of one round.

Dimitri studied the clips, rewinding them back and forth. He looked at each round from various angles. He tried to figure out what skills his opponents possessed that quickly defeated him.

“In a real world fight, you would not have the option nor the time to analyze what your opponent is capable of.” Mikhail could not keep his thoughts to himself.

“I know.” Dimitri responded indifferently, engrossed in studying his failures.

“You know! Yet here you are, wasting our time analyzing all of your defeats.” Armand threw his hands up and declared in exasperation. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“If you want me to improve, you need to give me time to analyze my mistakes and learn from them.” Dimitri tried to explain his motive. “Otherwise, we’ll only be going around in circles.”

“Suit yourself!” Armand retorted angrily. “Although I highly doubt that will help.”

“Why don’t you just drop your amnesia act and fight like you always have?” Armand asked rhetorically. “That will surely save us time.”

Armand’s patience had run out. As he was leaving, he asked Mikhail for a favor. “Can you handle his training yourself? Just call me when he's ready.”

Mikhail simply nodded without even bothering to glance at Armand. All his attention seemed to be focused solely on Dimitri.

“This is going to be quite tricky.” Dimitri thought, ignoring Armand’s outburst.

The videos confirmed his hunch. The masked figure could teleport and switch places with his clones.

“Did you find what you needed?” Mikhail asked politely.

“Yes, I did,” Dimitri responded smugly. “I need to change my weapon.”

***

“Round Eight - Defeat!”

The last blow hit Dimitri so hard that it violently flung him to the floor. He instantly passed out and lost all consciousness.

[Critical Level Reached]

Dimitri looked around and saw himself floating inside a white sphere again. He realized that he had been here before. Right under the system prompt, he saw the familiar tiny black ball hovering steadily dead center of the sphere.

Everything he saw and felt, he knew for a fact, to be all in his mind. A typing sound emanated from the general direction of the small black ball. He looked up to see a new message appearing out of thin air, one letter at a time.

[Self-Preservation Mode Activated]

Dimitri noticed that the system prompt had changed. The black ball still remained stationary, and did not move a single inch during the previous two message displays.

[Installing Combat Simulation Program]

Dimitri watched as the progress bar moved slowly. With no sense of time, he just stood there, staring at the progress bar as it filled up bit by bit. He felt like he waited for a really long time.

The sign finally said one hundred percent. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the progress bar finally peaked.

[Activating Combat Simulation Program]

***

Dimitri coughed out water from his mouth. He touched his face and realized that someone had splashed water on him.

“Wake up!” Dimitri heard Mikhail’s voice getting louder and louder. “Dimitri, wake up!”

Dimitri woke up dazed, still a bit groggy. Now, he could see the previously stationary gear icon blinking as it floated high up at two o’clock.

“What happened to me?” He asked, absentmindedly tapping on the gear icon. This opened a new virtual screen, now with two icons where there used to be just one. He tapped the new sword icon right next to the already familiar lightbulb icon.

[Combat Simulation Program Active]

“You were knocked out.” Mikhail flatly declared, ignoring the strange hand movements Dimitri had been making in the air.

“How long have I been unconscious?” Dimitri suddenly remembered that all throughout his 51-day coma, he had been inside that same white sphere. He now wondered how long he had been inside the white sphere this time around.

He noticed how different the combat simulation program looked. He saw multi-colored line grids everywhere, throughout the entire platform of the training hall.

“Only for a few minutes,” Mikhail replied. “The health monitor reported that your vital signs were within the normal range. So, I asked one of my bots to splash water on your face.”

“Do you want to continue to the next round?” Mikhail asked. “Or would you rather rest first?”

Dimitri knew that he already had full control of the entire combat simulation program. He was extremely eager to try out what he could learn from it, now that it had been integrated into his system.

He stood up, wiping his wet hands on his bodysuit and said, “Proceed.”