The morning air hung cool and crisp over the outskirts of Olympus City, the vast expanse of red earth stretching out like the desolate, enigmatic surface of Mars. Dozens of young athletes were warming up on this barren landscape, their bodies honed and ready, clad in professional sportswear, feet gliding on a variety of rollerblades.
Allie, however, stood out. Instead of specialized outdoor gear, she wore simple protective gear and the pair of high-speed rollerblades Ryan had given her. Looking at the rough, uneven terrain, she felt a sense of despair, akin to taking a luxury sports car off-roading. Time was tight; to make it to the tryouts, she had no choice but to wear them.
Today was the day of the tryouts for Marcus Black's team. Coach Black was a legend in the world of rollerblading, his team having clinched multiple championships in the Intergalactic Rollerblading Endurance Race. Joining his team was a dream for any skater, and Allie was no exception.
"That's Marcus Black, the 'Mad Coach'," whispered a tall, muscular athlete beside her, his voice tinged with awe. "His training methods are brutal. He heard he once pushed a recruit so hard they collapsed from dehydration."
Allie followed his gaze to a tall, imposing figure striding towards them. His hair, streaked with grey, was cut short, his face a roadmap of wrinkles and scars, each one a testament to a life lived on the edge, a life dedicated to pushing limits. But it was his eyes, sharp and blue as glacial ice, that held her attention, seeming to pierce through her, demanding respect.
Coach Black stopped in front of the assembled athletes, his gaze sweeping over them like a hawk sizing up its prey. An almost palpable tension filled the air, each recruit standing a little straighter, holding their breath under his scrutiny.
"Today's tryout is simple: a 40-kilometer endurance race," his voice boomed, a gravelly baritone that commanded instant attention. "Follow the red flags. No time limit. Only the top ten make the cut. Now, prepare yourselves!"
Allie drew a deep breath, trying to quell the nervous flutter in her stomach as she joined the starting line. Most of the athletes around her were seasoned long-distance skaters. She, on the other hand, despite her natural talent, had never received formal training, let alone competed in such a grueling race.
A sharp bang split the air, signaling the start of the race.
Allie and the other athletes shot forward like arrows released from a bow, a blur of vibrant colors against the monotonous red earth. Initial excitement and adrenaline coursed through her veins, her skates churning up dust as she gained speed. The wind whipped past her ears, the landscape blurring into streaks of color. The sheer exhilaration of speed brought a smile to her lips.
The euphoria, however, was short-lived. As kilometers turned into miles, fatigue began to set in, her pace slowing. Her breath hitched in her chest, sweat stinging her eyes, dripping onto the scorching ground only to evaporate instantly. Her legs screamed in protest, each push a monumental effort.
Ten kilometers in, and she was lagging behind, the main pack a distant blur. Her throat felt raw, parched, her lips dry and cracked. The protective suit, heavy with sweat, clung to her, chafing with every movement. Her legs felt like lead weights, each stride an agonizing effort.
But she refused to give up. Biting back a groan, she dug deep, drawing strength from the memory of her days struggling for survival in the slums. She had endured hunger, exhaustion, had worked tirelessly for scraps of food and water. If she could survive that, she could survive this.
"Allie, you have extraordinary potential. Believe in yourself, and you can achieve anything," Ryan's words echoed in her mind, bolstering her flagging spirit.
Twenty kilometers. Her body was screaming for respite. Lactic acid burned in her muscles, each movement sending shards of pain shooting up her legs. Her vision swam, black spots dancing at the edge of her sight. The rhythmic whir of skates on hard-packed earth morphed into a grating whine, punctuated by the frantic thump of her own heartbeat.
Memories of her childhood, fragmented and blurry, surfaced. Her mother's gentle smile, her father's encouraging eyes. She pictured them waiting at the finish line, their pride fueling her faltering steps.
Thirty kilometers. She was nearing her limit. Her body, numb with exhaustion, moved purely on willpower. The landscape blurred into an indistinct canvas of red and blue. Sounds became muffled, distant. The lack of shock absorption in her skates sent jarring vibrations through her exhausted frame. Only the frantic thump of her heart, the rasping of her breath, reminded her that she was still alive, still fighting.
Then, just as she thought she could take no more, she felt it. A surge of power, raw and untamed, coursing through her veins. The Kunlun energy. It roared within her like molten lava, threatening to burst free, to consume her. Panic seized her, the memory of the arena incident flashing before her eyes.
"Calm down, Allie, calm down!" she chanted internally, desperately trying to rein in the chaotic energy.
Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take deep, even breaths, recalling Ryan's instructions. "Focus on your breath. Let the energy flow with it. Don't fight it, guide it." His voice, calm and reassuring, cut through the panic.
She focused on relaxing her body, on the rhythm of her breath. Slowly, she felt the Kunlun energy responding, its chaotic dance settling into a smoother, more controlled flow. It spread through her like a warm tide, seeping into every muscle, every cell.
A strange sense of invigoration washed over her. The fatigue receded, replaced by an almost effortless momentum. Her movements became fluid, each push powerful and sure. Pain, exhaustion, it all faded away, replaced by an exhilarating lightness.
Thirty-five kilometers. Thirty-eight. The finish line was in sight. No more pain, no more exhaustion. Just a singular focus: to cross that line. Her vision sharpened, picking out the fluttering flags marking the end of her ordeal. Sounds became clearer. She could hear the distant roar of the crowd, urging her on.
"Don't you dare give up, kid!" a gruff voice boomed beside her. Coach Black.
She looked up to see him standing near the finish line, his gaze fixed on her, an unexpected flicker of encouragement in his piercing blue eyes. For a moment, she saw her father in his face, the man from her fragmented memories, the one who always believed in her.
The last kilometer. She poured every ounce of her remaining strength into a final burst of speed. Her skates sang against the ground, a high-pitched whine that faded into background noise. All she saw was the finish line, her goal, her salvation.
And then she crossed it.
As she stumbled past the white line, the borrowed energy drained away, leaving her weak and dizzy. The world tilted, and she collapsed, darkness swallowing her whole.
When she came to, she was lying in a makeshift medical tent, Coach Black seated beside her, his brow furrowed as he watched her. Her body felt like one giant bruise, every muscle protesting, yet there was a strange sense of accomplishment thrumming beneath the pain.
"You're awake. How are you feeling?" His voice, usually gruff, held a note of concern.
She tried to sit up, but her muscles refused to cooperate. Her throat was too dry to speak, so she just nodded weakly.
He pressed a cup of water into her hand. She drank greedily, feeling life flowing back into her parched body.
"You pushed yourself to the brink of collapse," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "That was reckless, dangerous."
Allie looked down, unable to meet his gaze, shame washing over her. He was right. The memory of losing control flashed through her mind, bringing with it a fresh wave of fear.
"But…" he paused, his expression softening slightly. "You also showed incredible willpower, raw talent. That kind of grit, that determination…, reminds me of myself, once upon a time."
She looked up at him, surprised by the grudging admiration in his tone. Never had she imagined earning the respect of this legendary, almost mythical figure.
"I'm willing to give you a chance," he continued. "Training starts tomorrow. Be warned, it'll be even tougher than today. Are you ready?"
Excitement shot through her, banishing the last vestiges of fatigue. "Really? You mean…, I made the team?"
He nodded curtly, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "You did, Allie Wren. Welcome aboard. But this is just the beginning. You have a long way to go, a lot to learn."
A wide, genuine smile split her face. "Thank you, Coach," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I won't let you down."
He stood, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Rest up. I'll see you at dawn." With a final nod, he turned and left the tent.