Wilson slowly opened his eyes and looked around. He was confused as to where he was for a short period of time before he finally realized he was at the base's hospital. He looked around him and sat up. He slowly began to remember his dream. Why the hell was that commander, named Wilson? Are his dreams simply messing with him? What is with all these dreams, really? He let himself be engrossed in the memories of his dream in a bid to discern whatever was to be discerned in a dream like that. (He was actually just looking for a clue that might tell him something about why he was having dreams like these).
If he remembered correctly, the commander Wilson won. The worn out chief and his five men just did no stand the slightest chance. They were just too tired to fight forever. Tock was cut in pieces by enraged soldiers. Rock died after he got stabbed because his hands could no longer hold his sword and shield due to overexerting his muscles. Shock had taken a massive blow to the back of the head. He did not even get to see what exactly hit him. Was it a hammer? Did these soldiers have huge hammers too? Or was it a special group of people who had remained on top of the hill with their commander? The answer was yes but Shock never got to know that before he fell down dead.
Mock, the spearman died when some unknown soldiers managed to sneak attack him and threw him off the hill edge. The poor mock bones broke completely below the hill. As for the brutal berserker, Lock, he fought till he died from blood loss. He literally lost so much blood, he lost consciousness. Even then, he was still grinning sinisterly on the bloody grass as if he was planning to suddenly spring up and bring lots more soldiers with him to the underworld. So, the soldiers cut off his head and threw it far away. That smiling head alone was enough to give these war veterans nightmares. Even Wilson had the chills when he remembered that face.
Chief on the other hand, had a long grueling fight with Commander Wilson. They parried and dodged and struck at each other. They wanted desperately to cut each other's heads off. Wilson and Commander Wilson were both impressed by Chief's tenacity. He was stubborn and unyielding. He even risked his life many times to get rid of the commander but the commander saw through his tricks and cleverly avoided them all. Then, at one point, he got distracted by a man who suddenly swung his hammer in Chief's direction. Chief moved to dodge the hammer but simultaneously fell to Wilson's sword which struck him in his blind spot. He tried to block but he was too tired and was therefore a tad bit too slow.
Wilson stood up from the bed and walked out of the room. He saw the same petite nurse dozing outside by the door. It was nighttime, probably midnight and she seemed very tired. Wilson looked at her for a while before he walked straight out of the hospital and towards the cafeteria. He was hungry and had to eat.
The cafeteria was dimly lit when he entered. He looked around in amazement. This cafeteria was definitely way bigger than it seemed on the outside. He walked straight to the counter.
"What are you doing here?" A grumpy voice suddenly spoke from behind the counter, scaring the hungry Wilson.
"I want to eat." Wilson said simply as he looked for the person, that grumpy voice came out of. He did not see anyone but he already had an image in his head. The voice owner was probably some short, scraggy bearded old man.
"This is already midnight. No food after dinner. When you miss it, then that is your freaking problem. Not mine. Go away!"
"But I am hungry!" Wilson said.
"Eat yourself." The voice said. Wilson frowned at that suggestion. What kind of advice was that? To eat oneself? That is wrong in so many ways.
"Uhm, but I'm a patient." Wilson tried to protest.
"Then patiently wait at the hospital. Stop bothering me and walk away or I will kick you out." The voice responded.
Wilson felt a fast rising urge to beat up whoever this voice owner was.
"Oh, Mr Wilson, I have been looking around for you!" That sweet voice of the petite nurse flowed smoothly all the way from the doorway even though it was definitely not loud enough to be heard that far away. Wilson turned around to look at her and wanted to ask how she was able to make her voice transmit itself so closely to his ears.
"Are you hungry? You should have woken me up to get some food for you. You will not get anything from the cafeteria outside mealtime unless you possess a special badge." She said.
"What badge?" Wilson asked. She brought out a small badge with a cross on it and some small inscriptions and funny looking marks on it.
"This kind of badge is used by medical personnel. There is also the badge for fighters like you." She said as she suddenly appeared beside Wilson, flashed her badge across the counter and a tray of food magically appeared.
"I don't know if this is to your taste but you have to eat it. It contains the essential nutrients you require to get your body back to tiptop shape as soon as possible." She said and gave the tray of food to Wilson. Wilson looked at the plate of food. There were cut pieces of tender meat and vegetables on a plate as well as a couple other edible stuffs, which he could not identify, and finally, a juice box beside it.
'This does not seem too bad.' He thought to himself.
"How do I get a badge like that?" he asked her. He was already back to the badge thing. The badges seemed very useful.
"Well, the fighters badge will be released for the first time after the upcoming fight festival. I hear it will be given as a gift to those that impress the elders. These badges bring lots of benefits, you know."
"Like what?"
"Access to some library martial and special informative books that are otherwise locked away from the public's eye, access to the special training rooms, access to the cafeteria anytime you want. Oh yes, I hear the most special feature of a fighter's badge is the disciplinary exemption points."
"Uhn?"
"The disciplinary exemption points."
"What is that?"
"Well, you see, if you break some rules, you can use your points which the badges give you to avoid punishment. And from what I have noticed, you seem like someone who needs those points. So, my advice to you is to work your butt off and ensure you get a fighters badge."
Wilson chewed on his food for a long time while the nurse watched him.
"And when is this fighter's festival?"
"In two days!"
"Uhn?"
"I understand you must be devastated, Mr Wilson. Who would not be? After all, you slept for three weeks and missed all the practice."
Wilson spat out his food. Three weeks? How come? Was Old man Jenkins right? Was he cursed with sleep? This is bad. Really, really bad. Wait a minute! What was he still doing in the cafeteria? He should be training. He has already missed so much. He walked out of the cafeteria with hurried steps.
"Where are you going, Mr Wilson?"
"To train."
"Oh, okay. Just don't overexert yourself again so you don't pass out and miss the fest." Wilson could not tell if she was stylishly insulting him.
"No problem." He answered.
"Wait, Mr Wilson. You are going the wrong way. The regular training room is in the opposite direction." The nurse shouted at him.