The heavy creak of the door opening filled the air, followed by muffled grunts and the dull thud of a fist striking flesh. Kaidan stepped into the room cautiously, the servant's presence fading behind him as she closed the door. The scene before him was both brutal and illuminating.
A man, broad-shouldered and heavily muscled, stood over a young fighter who was sprawled on the ground. The trainer—it had to be the trainer—wiped blood from his knuckles onto a cloth, his expression carved from stone. His black hair was cropped close to his scalp, and a jagged scar ran down his right cheek, disappearing into his beard. His eyes were cold and piercing, a stormy gray that seemed to see through Kaidan at a glance.
The younger fighter coughed, curling into himself as he tried to rise, but the trainer's boot pinned him firmly to the floor.
"You lose," the trainer said, his voice low but resonant. "That means you get punished. You think the ring will let you off easy? You're weak. Fix it." He lifted his boot, letting the boy scramble to his feet and limp out of the room without a word.
Kaidan's mismatched eyes—one blue, one gold—narrowed as the trainer turned to him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So, this is Seris's latest acquisition. You don't look like much," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Fodder. That's what you are."
Kaidan's fists clenched at his sides, but he forced himself to stay calm. He met the trainer's gaze steadily, refusing to flinch under the weight of his judgment.
The trainer chuckled darkly. "At least you've got fire in your eyes. That'll make this more interesting."
He gestured toward the center of the room, where a makeshift training area had been set up. Chalk lines marked a crude ring on the ground, and an assortment of battered training equipment was scattered along the walls. The air smelled faintly of sweat and old leather.
"Welcome to your new life," the trainer said. "My job is to make sure you don't embarrass the lady when you step into the ring. That means I'll break you down and build you back up. If you survive, you might even become something worth betting on."
Pain Begins
The trainer didn't waste time. He barked his first order before Kaidan had even had a chance to take in his surroundings.
"Run. Around the ring. Until I tell you to stop."
Kaidan hesitated for a moment, then began to move. His steps were measured at first, his body still stiff from days of confinement. The trainer's sharp voice cut through the air like a whip.
"Faster! Or do you want me to drag you through every lap?"
Kaidan gritted his teeth and picked up the pace. The rough stone floor scraped against his bare feet, and sweat began to bead on his brow. He ran in silence, his breathing growing heavier with each lap.
How long is he going to make me do this? he wondered, his mind racing as his legs burned. His gaze flicked to the trainer, who leaned casually against the wall, watching him with an air of detached amusement.
The minutes dragged on, each one stretching endlessly. Kaidan's breathing turned into gasps, and his chest heaved with the effort to pull in air. His legs screamed with every step, his muscles on the verge of giving out.
This is insane. He stole a glance at the door. Escape? No, not yet. Keep running. Just keep running.
Finally, his knees buckled. He hit the floor hard, his palms scraping against the rough surface. Sweat dripped from his brow, forming small puddles beneath him.
The trainer strode forward, his boots echoing in the room. "Pathetic," he sneered. "And here I thought you had a spine. Get up."
"I..." Kaidan's voice came out hoarse. He tried to push himself up, his arms trembling beneath him. "Just... give me... a moment."
The trainer snorted, grabbing Kaidan by the back of his shirt and hauling him to his feet. "You don't get moments, boy. Not here."
Lessons in Agony
The next exercise was worse. The trainer handed Kaidan a heavy wooden staff, its surface rough and splintered.
"Hold this over your head," he ordered. "Arms straight. Don't let it drop."
Kaidan obeyed, lifting the staff above his head. At first, it seemed manageable, but as the seconds dragged on, the weight of the staff began to bite into his shoulders. His arms quaked, his muscles burning as he fought to keep the staff aloft.
"You think the ring will go easy on you?" the trainer taunted. "You think your enemies will care if you're tired? Weakness gets you killed, boy. Remember that."
Kaidan's arms began to droop, but the trainer was on him in an instant, striking him across the back with a switch. The sting of the blow sent a jolt of pain through Kaidan's body, and he straightened his arms reflexively.
"Hold it," the trainer growled. "Or I'll make you regret it."
The minutes dragged on, each one an eternity. Kaidan's mind raced, thoughts colliding as he struggled to endure the pain.
Why am I doing this? he wondered, his vision blurring. Is this really the path to freedom? The thought of Seris's smirking face flashed in his mind, fueling his anger. I have to survive. I have to get stronger. I have to beat this.
Finally, the trainer called for him to stop. Kaidan let the staff fall to the ground, his arms hanging limply at his sides. His breathing was ragged, and his muscles felt as though they were on fire.
The trainer crouched down, his face inches from Kaidan's. "Weakness won't be tolerated here," he said softly, his voice a chilling contrast to the earlier shouting. "You've got scars. That means you've fought before. But fighting to survive and fighting to win are two different things. Learn that quickly, or you'll die before the first bell."
The Breaking Point
The final task of the day was sparring. The trainer stepped into the ring, cracking his knuckles as he sized Kaidan up.
"Let's see if you've got any fight in you," he said, motioning for Kaidan to come forward.
Kaidan hesitated, his body already battered and exhausted. But the trainer's mocking smirk ignited something within him. He stepped into the ring, his mismatched eyes blazing with determination.
The trainer didn't hold back. His movements were swift and brutal, his punches landing with precision. Kaidan tried to fight back, but his strikes were clumsy, his body too slow to keep up. Each blow from the trainer sent pain radiating through him, but he refused to fall.
"Get up," the trainer barked as Kaidan hit the ground for the third time. "Is that all you've got?"
Kaidan pushed himself to his feet, his vision swimming. His body screamed at him to stop, but his mind burned with a singular thought: I won't give up.
When the session finally ended, Kaidan collapsed to the floor, his body broken and bruised. The trainer stood over him, his expression unreadable.
"You've got spirit," he said. "I'll give you that. But spirit won't be enough. You've got a long way to go, boy."
As the trainer turned away, his boots clunking heavily against the stone floor, Kaidan remained sprawled on the ground, the world around him spinning. Each labored breath felt like a dagger in his chest, and his muscles screamed in protest with every slight movement. The faint metallic taste of blood lingered on his tongue as he gritted his teeth against the pain.
He pressed his palms against the rough floor, willing himself to rise. Not here. Not like this, he thought, his mismatched eyes—one blue, one gold—burning faintly with defiance. Every fiber of his being felt shattered, yet deep within, a fire refused to extinguish.
The trainer stopped at the edge of the ring, turning his head slightly as if sensing Kaidan's struggle. Without looking back fully, he muttered, "Don't disappoint me tomorrow." His voice, though quiet, carried the weight of expectation—and the promise of more pain.