KENDRICK MCKENNEY POV
I stand about ten meters away from my instructor, who is a male elf. That's all I know about him; I don't know his age, how he looks, or even his voice because he always covers himself from head to toe in white attire, never speaks, uses hand or body gestures, and never shows Any form of emotion. He is my fighting instructor, and today is our mock hand-to-hand battle, which we were doing in a 500-meter-wide training arena. No one was present, but I felt people were watching, so I felt anxious. My teacher gestured for the exam to start suddenly, and instead of attacking, he just stood there. I was taught to wait for the enemy to strike, but he didn't move. Was I supposed to make a move? Do I attack first, or do I wait for an opening? I'll attack anyway; he probably wants to assess my skills.
I run straight at him and go for his stomach with my right, and he uses the palm of his hand to hit my wrist to the right. Using the momentum, I do a reverse turning kick, to which he ducks and kicks my leg that's still on the ground, which causes me to float in the air, and due to the momentum, I kept spinning in the air. He delivers a non-lethal but extremely painful punch to the chest, which sent me flying back about 20 meters.
I cough forcing air into my lungs, and notice my wrist broke from the first hit. It's not the first time, so I shake off the pain and snap my wrist back into place. Thanks to my family's bloodline, it won't hurt, at least for now. As long as my adrenaline is running, I'll be fine. I rush him again and go for his legs with a slide. He sidesteps, and then I stand up and switch to a sidekick. He does it again, pushing my leg down with one hand. I try using that as cover for a punch, but he casually deflects my hand to the side again, aiming for the same spot as last time, causing me pain. Immediately after, he uses his legs to shift my front leg slightly forward, throwing off my balance and then following through with a punch at my face. I shield my face, but it turns out that was a fake because I waited for the inevitable punch to my face, but it never came. What came next was a hard punch to the gut. The hit was so hard that food, air, and even blood spilled out of my mouth.
As I land on the floor, writhing in pain and coughing, a note is on the floor when I come to my senses, and without looking, I know what its contents are. A feeling of dread washes over me as I realized why I felt as if I was being watched. I turn and see my father's shadowy figure exit the training hall with a look of disappointment, which simply meant I was screwed. Out of all the people, it just had to be the one person I should never disappoint, because the moment you are born in this family, you are already on thin ice that breaks from any mistake, and the ice I'm standing on is cracked and ready to let me fall into the cold darkness below.