What a strange feeling. To win a battle, I mean. In every fight, victory feels hard-earned, but what would losing feel like? Death, I suppose. There must be a feeling for that, though—an emotion.
His hands trembled.
Me?
Twists and turns gnawed at his stomach. His face felt cold, lifeless. At the very least, he thought he wouldn't die.
Right? But, who's my opponent?
A large shadow fell over the boy's face—an object, or person, soaring through the sky. As the prominent figure descended, two words came to mind.
The apocalypse...
Maybe it was a God or Goddess. Maybe Vespus had finally come to take him away from this cruel world.
A large man landed in the center of the ring.
His armor shone in the moonlight, sending a glare into the boy's eyes. The sudden light made him flinch.
The man's outline was burly and defined. He could have been mistaken for Jackson, but something was off. Maybe it was the few centimeters shorter he felt, or the lack of fat on his bones. It felt as if he was truly built for battle, like every bone, organ, and muscle was designed for war.
T- The instructor?
The boy looked up to the office terrace. The instructor stood the same as ever, not moving an inch. His focus shifted back to the man in front of him as his eyes began to adjust.
What or who he saw was clearly different from the instructor above; that much was clear, but he still didn't know how much fear his body should feel. So naturally, it resorted to all of it at once.
Tears began to well up-
"Enough!" the instructor called.
The boy looked up, frozen in place.
"Do you plan to die so easily?"
"..."
"Is this why you survived? Is this why your brothers and sisters died while you lived?"
The tears stopped, but the shaking didn't.
What? How does he know that…
A new feeling began to build. The boy clenched his fists as he prepared himself. He felt it deep within, and it was finally rising to the surface.
He turned to the crowd and vomited at his feet.
"Aughhh," the crowd moaned in unison.
Then, suddenly, it was laughter.
"C'mon, kid, y'ain't gonna die... probably, haha!"
"Interesting tactic, kid!"
"Oh, Elias is scared now! Haha!"
He wiped his mouth and turned back to the circle. Maybe it was the comments, or perhaps it was the vomit, but his body felt serene.
The crowd cheered as he entered the circle.
"Since Elias is the challenger, you may set the rules of battle. The only condition is that you may not use weapons. So, what will it be, 316?"
The boy didn't quite understand.
Rules? I guess they mean what game?
"Speak now, I will choose for you-"
"B- Boxing!"
As the words came from his mouth, the boy noticed Elias flinch. It was fleeting, but there.
"You heard him, Landser."
Landser? Maybe his family name?
As if on cue, Elias stepped forward with his fist to his chest, almost like a gesture.
"My name is Elias Landser. I will be your opponent. Please state your name."
He backed away, dropping his fist. As the boy prepared himself to speak, Elias started taking off his armor.
"I'm, uh, no one really-"
"What are you doing, sir?"
Elias continued stripping his armor as he spoke, "Making this a little more fair. More fun at least."
The last bit sent shivers down his spine.
He raised his fist and shuffled closer to the center.
His balance was off, and his stance felt awkward. Right hand forward felt even weirder, so he stuck with his left hand as the lead. Elias kicked the last piece of armor from the circle and turned toward his opponent.
There was a clear difference in posture.
Elias stared the boy up and down. He paused before slowly approaching. The man's hands poked and prodded, shifting and turning the boy around. Once he finished, Elias spoke softly.
"There."
What... just happened-
He stopped his thought, and he understood just by standing. He felt balanced. His hands felt the perfect distance from his face. Every inch of his stance felt catered towards him.
The boy was so astounded that he didn't even hear the instructor say begin.
Elias closed the gap quickly and unleashed a flurry of punches. Each grazed the boy's face as he dodged and weaved around, flailing about aimlessly.
I'm going to die!
The instructor spoke over the fight.
"Is all you can do run?!"
"Are you nothing but a rat?!"
His voice outweighed the shouts of the crowd.
A jab connected with his stomach.
"Huegh!"
Spit flew from his mouth. The boy fell to his knees and coughed as the air around seemed to escape him.
The instructor discreetly raised his hand, and Elias backed off. The crowd booed in response.
"Stand, boy. Stand and fight."
A command.
The boy's mind had no urge other than to disobey and run. Yet, his heart felt a need to hit back.
Damnit, I hate this.
What could he do? He'd never saved anyone, much less himself. How could he fight-
...such a strong opponent? How can I win? No... how can I land a punch?
Though his mind was still in shambles, he knew he wasn't going to die. As air returned to his lungs, so did a new fire. He pushed off his knee and rose to his feet.
A weak imitation of the stance Elias had shown him, but it was more than enough to draw a smirk from the instructor.
I don't care if it's not flashy. I don't care if it's meaningless to anyone else. I just want to do something worthwhile one last time.
Elias saw the spark in his eyes and adjusted accordingly. The fight continued.
Punches felt like horse hooves kicking him in the face and gut.
Are they stronger than before?
Each blow felt like a new crater in the boy's body. He wanted nothing more than to scream and cry out.
"Show us your fire, boy."
The instructor kept speaking over the fight like an announcer. The crowd continued to cry out in favor of Elias.
"Just kill him already!"
"Yeah, yeah, put him out of his misery!"
They laughed as they screamed.
He ignored them.
One hit. One hit. Just land one.
The barrage continued, but something changed. The boy took his eyes off his opponent's fist and raised his guard. His eyes peered through the gap between, and he looked at Elias' legs.
"Are you just a rat!?" cried the instructor.
"A SMALL, WORTHLESS RAT?!"
"AUGHHH!"
The boy screamed and ducked his head deep, slipping through Elias' legs. With all of the strength left in his body, he stood and twisted. Practically throwing himself behind his punch.
Elias turned to react, but something stopped him.
The fist connected.
Silence.
The crowd looked on in awe. No one laughed or taunted.
The boy looked up at where his fist had connected, then to Elias. The man was unfazed by the impact, but something had changed in his eyes.
He tried to retreat, but Elias quickly closed in.
A hulking fist flew toward him as air bent around it.
I'm dead.
"Elias!"
The punch stopped just before impact.
The shockwave sent his hair whipping, and blood sprayed from his nose.
He fell to his knees, completely limp.
"To think a mere child would land a hit on the fourth in command here..."
Everything started to turn black.
I can't hear what they're saying. I can't... see...
The boy looked to Elias. He stared down at the child. His expression resembled that of Brost's in the church.
"The boy...wins."
The last thing he heard before passing out.
A rustic ceiling stared down at the boy from above. He turned to see his bucket in the corner. Everything seemed the same except for the man kneeling at his side.
"You don't fight to win," he said.
"Is that so?"
The instructor didn't react to the sarcasm.
"No... you fight to live."
"And I can teach you to live."
The boy felt tears well up uncontrollably.
He covered his face to hide the sight, but spoke with a shaky voice.
"When can I learn?"
"Right now."