"March!" Instructor Karen screams from the side.
Dahlia plays a small drum, randomly given to her by the instructor, from behind the two lines of students. With every beat she makes with that leather-wooden bound conga-thing, the students tries to match the rhythm. Whether it's a slow or fast beat from the little girl, together they try as a unit to stay in sync, but they were so clumsy. No matter how much training they have to improve themselves, in a group of unfamiliar faces, they are beginners all over again.
Not related, but in the back of his mind, X wonders if Dahlia is getting paid to do this job. Only suckers do free labors. And yet, he was a sucker himself. Can't stay away from things that should not matter anymore, but his mind keeps replaying old memories. Shards slowly returning to a bigger picture— is the novel's plot moving along without him?
God, this scene kind of remind him of his participation in the "Death March" at Auschwitz, but that was a different time and place. He was a secret mole for the American, disguised as a Nazi soldier. Old wounds and mistakes. How can he forgive himself?
He didn't really care for humans by then, already seen so much blood and hatred, but he had regrets. Too many regrets, and too much blood was on his hand that he can never truly feel clean again. He couldn't wipe his sins away, or forget that mother and daughter pair, who never stop smiling.
He wanted to forget again.
X close his eyes before taking a breath, beads of sweat rolls down his face. He looks up at the happy blue sky, as it mocks him for being weak. Then, like he always did. The little emotions of compassion that are remnant to his human side were snuffed out like a candle. He didn't need it when he found out he was half-demon, when he left his human side to be a full-fledge monster. His gold eyes look around, trying to keep himself busy, focus on something else.
Amidst sunken or tired faces, at least one person seem to be happy from this hot mess. The little girl playing the drum with a wide smile and red face. She is also tired. Too young to be training so hard, yet she tries her best to keep up with the adults. Her short legs moving faster than any of the students, who are running around the training field, trying to make up for the lack of distance she cannot reach just yet.
Soon Karen gives her an approving glance before barking at her trainees. They were horrible. Always out of step. Not keeping up the pace or beat. Don't they know that one step on the battlefield can lead to casualties for the team. That one misstep can mean death. She wanted to use an old training method later, but at the rate they're going now. She can't pull punches.
"Stop!"
The students slow down to a stop— some hitting each other behind like an abacus. Others fall, and give the earth a painful kiss. Dahlia wince at the scene before moving to the Instructor's side.
"Follow me!" Karen walks south-east into a building that looks too similar to a modern gymnasium, but when they walk in.
"Hey! Who turn off the lights?" Lance cheerfully comments about the pitch black room, "Ken...did you do this? I knew you didn't forget my birthday!"
"Shut up," Ken replies with a flat voice.
X can see well in the dark but no matter how good he can see, his vision is not as clear as in daylight. Hidden mechanisms move in front of him, changing the scene from a normal gym to some kind of landscape. From up above, he sees on the side, that the instructor and Dahlia are standing behind an invisible wall. Something moves with a low whistle, and slowly blocks them from view. The warm weather drops to freezing and bitter winds gift the speechless students a wake-up slap.
"The first thing you need to know in this class is teamwork," The Instructor's voice echoes throughout the room.
The students look around trying to pinpoint her voice.
"While it's true, that in this world you have to mostly rely on yourself. There are times when you are force to work with others you may not be familiar with. In those times, teamwork is critical. Let's see what you got."
Like night shifts into morning the light turns on, and they all find themselves on a snowy mountain.
"Holy—" Before Lance can throw another lame joke, the instructor saves them— I mean talks over him.
"I want to see how far you can go up the mountain? It's been over one hundred years since the last person ever reached the peak." She chuckles before her voice fades into the background.
The people begin to move, running to the top. All of them, except X. The novel said the Hero did this training, but it was only mentioned and forgotten just as quickly. With nothing to go off of, but the Instructor's words, he moves slowly up the mountain. Not cautious nor impulsive, as he know he'll always get the brunt of whatever comes his way.
Not even twenty minutes in, he feels a familiar invisible force pushing him back. His new body may not be used to the cold temperature and the relentless current rebelling against him from moving forward, but the void in X's chest remembers it well from X's memories. The void quickly beats like a second heart, increasing the demon's body warmth to a more comfortable temperature.
And like before, in Hell, when the current of wind blows harder, he marches forward. When an invisible force pushes him away, he pushes back even harder. The snow sticking to his face melts from his body heats, droplets falling into his eyes or trying to cling to his long eyelashes.
Did he make it to the top of that hill? He can't remember. The memories blurry like his current vision. Or maybe he just did not want to remember another old memory. Another old wound. Focus!
He sees ahead of him a familiar figure laying half conscious on the ground, nearly buried by the snow. As he moves closer to the small crime scene, the body gets bigger and bigger.
"Hey!"