The days blurred together, filled with nothing but training and exhaustion. Yeon-ah's body ached from the relentless routine, every muscle sore and strained from the constant drills. But she didn't stop. She couldn't afford to.
Each session was a test—of her endurance, her will, and her ability to fight back against a world that had already taken so much from her. The woman—her mentor—pushed her further each day, never showing any sign of satisfaction, never offering a word of praise. It was always the same cold, unyielding command.
"Again."
Yeon-ah gritted her teeth, her hand shaking as she lifted her blade once more. Her breath came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping down her face. She could feel the strain in her arms, the weight of the sword growing heavier with each passing second.
But she didn't stop.
She swung the blade, aiming for her mentor's side, but once again, the woman dodged effortlessly. It was as if she wasn't even trying, her movements smooth and calculated, while Yeon-ah struggled to keep up.
The woman's blade flashed in the dim light, stopping just inches from Yeon-ah's neck.
"Too slow," the woman said, her voice cold and emotionless. "You'll never survive like this."
Yeon-ah staggered back, frustration bubbling up inside her. She had been training for days—weeks even—but it still felt like she was getting nowhere. No matter how hard she pushed herself, the woman was always one step ahead, always faster, stronger, better.
"Why do you keep pushing me like this?" Yeon-ah snapped, her voice trembling with exhaustion and anger. "What's the point? You already know I'm not good enough."
The woman didn't flinch. She sheathed her blade with a swift motion, her eyes hard and unyielding. "Survival isn't about being good enough. It's about being better than the ones trying to kill you."
Yeon-ah's chest tightened, her breath coming in sharp bursts. She knew the woman was right. In this world, there was no room for weakness, no room for hesitation. But it didn't make the constant failure any easier to swallow.
"You want to live?" the woman asked, her voice sharp. "Then stop thinking like a victim. Stop waiting for someone to save you. No one's coming."
Yeon-ah bit her lip, the weight of the woman's words sinking in. She had known this from the start—she had seen it with her own eyes. Her family, her friends... they were gone. And no one had come to save them.
No one had come to save her either.
"Fine," Yeon-ah muttered, her voice hoarse. "Then teach me how to stop failing."
The woman's eyes flickered with something—respect, perhaps, or maybe just acknowledgment. But whatever it was, it passed quickly, and her expression hardened once more.
"I'm not here to teach you how to win," she said, her tone flat. "I'm here to teach you how to survive."
Yeon-ah swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to scream, to shout that she was trying her best, that she was pushing herself harder than ever before. But she knew it wouldn't matter. The woman didn't care about effort or feelings. She cared about results.
"Then show me," Yeon-ah said, her voice trembling slightly. "Show me what I'm missing."
The woman studied her for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as if she were considering whether Yeon-ah was worth the effort. Then, without a word, she unsheathed her blade once more and stepped forward.
"You're too focused on what you think you should do," she said, her voice sharp. "You're trying to be perfect, trying to do everything right. But in a fight, there's no right way. There's only survival."
Yeon-ah blinked, her mind racing to keep up with the woman's words.
"You hesitate because you're waiting for the perfect moment," the woman continued. "But there's no such thing. In a fight, you make your own openings. You force your opponent to give you what you need."
The woman moved then, her blade flashing in the dim light as she lunged forward. Yeon-ah barely had time to react, stumbling back as the woman's blade came dangerously close to her side.
"Stop thinking," the woman snapped, her movements fluid and precise. "Just move."
Yeon-ah gritted her teeth, her muscles screaming in protest as she dodged the next strike. Her body felt heavy, her movements sluggish, but she forced herself to keep going. She couldn't afford to stop now.
The woman pressed her attack, her strikes fast and relentless. Each time Yeon-ah tried to counter, the woman was already one step ahead, her blade moving with deadly precision.
But then, something shifted.
As Yeon-ah dodged another strike, she felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins. Her mind stopped racing, the constant barrage of thoughts and doubts fading away. There was no room for hesitation anymore—only instinct.
She moved without thinking, her body reacting on its own. She stepped forward, her blade slicing through the air in a wide arc. The woman dodged, but for the first time, it wasn't effortless. There was a moment—a brief flicker—where Yeon-ah felt like she had gained the upper hand.
But just as quickly, the woman countered, her blade stopping just inches from Yeon-ah's throat.
The fight was over.
Yeon-ah's chest heaved with exhaustion, her body trembling from the effort. But there was something different this time. She hadn't won, but she hadn't failed completely either.
The woman stepped back, sheathing her blade with a swift motion. "You're improving," she said, her tone flat but not entirely dismissive. "But you're still hesitating."
Yeon-ah swallowed hard, her throat dry. She knew the woman was right. She had felt it too—that split-second of doubt, that moment where she had second-guessed herself. It had cost her the fight.
"You'll never be perfect," the woman said, her voice softening slightly. "No one is. But you don't need to be. You just need to survive."
Yeon-ah nodded, her hands trembling as she gripped her blade. She wasn't perfect, far from it. But she was getting stronger, bit by bit. And for now, that was enough.
"Rest," the woman said, turning away. "We'll start again tomorrow."
As the woman walked away, Yeon-ah sank to the ground, her body aching from the strain. She had survived another day—another test. But she knew there would be more to come.
The world outside was waiting for her, filled with dangers she couldn't even begin to imagine. But for the first time in a long time, she felt something she hadn't felt in a while.
Hope.