"Fuck."
Mikhail cursed in English out of reflex as he watched his opponent's hammer rapidly approach his chest. He was sprawled out on the ground and couldn't move. Both of his kneecaps had gotten shattered in the last exchange, his legs bent at extremely strange angles.
Additionally, he had been disarmed a few exchanges ago, forced to fight with his bare hands. With no spear, he couldn't end this fight with a draw.
He had lost completely.
BAM!
His mind went blank as several different kinds of pain signals were sent to his brain all at once.
Several of his ribs broke, and his lungs had been forcefully deflated by the force of the impact. His pectoral muscles had been snapped in several places.
His chest threatened to cave in because of the force, but it just barely held, sort of keeping its shape. Several of those aforementioned broken ribs even poked into the lungs, keeping certain areas of the lungs pressed downwards.
His opponent lifted his hammer and then went to strike for his head, but just before it could land, his swing was stopped by the taciturn woman using her Spiritual Pressure. Mikhail paid no mind to it though, his sense of self gone as his mind was completely encompassed by the pain he was feeling right now.
She then approached him, and analyzed his pitiful state with a neutral expression, the same way she did with every youngling.
Beneath his dusty and torn up red shirt, a giant purple blotch spread across his entire chest and shoulders, going downwards slightly towards his stomach. His chest was lumpy, crevices going inwards all over. These were the results of his torn up muscle fibres.
The sides of his abdomen were also pretty lumpy, his broken ribs having been jostled into weird positions.
Mikhail was foaming at the mouth, and his eyes had an unfocused glaze to them.
The same way she did with every youngling, the woman began healing him. Though, this vibrant green water orb was much larger, deforming and surrounding the severely injured parts of Mikhail's body.
As the pain receded, Mikhail's sense of self slowly returned. His teeth grit together as his eyes regained clarity, though he remained silent and waited for the healing process to end. And soon enough, it did.
Mikhail panted hard as he began breathing again. His muscles were aching almost as much as they were when he collapsed in the Muscle Refinement Room. And the afternoon sun bore down on him with a vengeance on top of that.
He shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand, hearing the distant chirping of Anzus and other beasts in the nearby desert.
"Alright, we're all done for today! See you tomorrow, everyone!"
The cerulean haired hottie shouted so that everyone in the training grounds could hear her.
Now that the practical experience duels had come to an end, most of the young adults and older adolescents began putting their weapons away.
"That was a good try, Mikhail."
Mikhail turned his eyes to the hulking brown man that stood over him.
"Thanks, Myles. Damn if that didn't hurt, though."
He grimaced, closing his eyes as he recalled moments prior how his chest had been caved in by the huge hammer Myles was wielding.
The pain he experienced every time he was put into mortal danger was harrowing.
When his arm was cut off, the loss of sensation made him panic more than the pain he felt at the stump at his shoulder.
When his jaw got bludgeoned off, his eyes were bloodshot from the pain. He could feel the hot air on his tongue, hanging down freely. He could taste nothing but iron.
Mikhail's drive was put to the test several times throughout the past couple of hours. An intense feeling of enervation washed over him every single time he was done being healed by the unconcerned woman.
His mind wandered, often thinking about just leaving and going back to the wilds, away from this insanity as he waited for his next opponent.
But if this was how hardcore the average citizen was, he couldn't even imagine how insane the people of the Demon Clan were.
Here, he didn't have to worry about random attacks from the Demon Clan. Not only that, but the pain from his state of imbalance would guarantee his death in the wilds.
With his mind in turmoil and his body weak from the pain, there would be no way for him to train his body in the primitive method, no way to survive an encounter with a beast, and no way to survive an attack from the Demon Clan.
Not only that, but the others, even those that looked as young as he did, handled this like it was just an average day, which it probably was.
He wasn't the most prideful individual, but the pride was still there. If even the greener of the group could handle it, he could too, damn it!
But his pride was a negligible factor in his drive to continue. His primal desire to continue chasing his biggest goal, his tenacity, and the remnant habits from his last life… These qualities of his were why he persevered through the hellish training.
And as everyone began to disperse, Mikhail reflected on the practical experience duels he had endured.
His first fight with Amir couldn't even be called a fight. It was a one-sided beatdown. His opponent was far more experienced than him, and had even awoken an element already. However, typically, as he had come to learn during his brief breaks…
Most people just got shit stomped by Amir. He put all of his efforts into beating his opponent straight from the beginning rather than the seemingly reactive battle style he had used against Mikhail.
Mikhail sighed…
He had been fighting for several hours, and he lost far more than he had won.
He had even rematched Amir twice, but he lost both times. He had given Amir a run for his money on one occasion, sure, but he had still lost because of his carelessness…