The Sergeant raised me as his own son, even though the age difference between us was quite little. I was 16, now, and he was about 28. The wound on my stomach healed quite quickly, even the professor had been amazed. My sanity slowly returned, and my mind regained it's pieces. My weight was the biggest struggle, due to the fact that I kept growing, reaching a final height of six foot three inches. But, that itself, was soon resolves. I began to train again, this time pushing myself harder than ever before; the Sergeant had taught me well.
At the age of eighteen, I was preparing for my final battle, which would determine my ability to join the Warriors officially, and give me the chnace one day to join the Elites, along side my fatherly figure.
"Alright, Freshie. Time to get down to business." The Sargeant made his first move pensively, waiting for me to counter-attack.
"Nice move, Sarge. But you made quite a fatal mistake..." I moved accordingly, and the Sergeant's eyes flew open. Without thinking, he made his next move. I chuckled, victory was about to be mine! I flew in the opposite direction, then screamed out in a successful tone of voice. "Check and mate!"
The Sergeant's face fell. He shook his head, tipping over his king piece. I posed heroically, and the Sergeant laughed heartily.
"Nice moves, kid. If you do that well against your opponent tomorrow, I'll be impressed." He grinned, setting his feet on the table, clearing it of the pieces. "I do have one question though, Freshie." I murmured to acknowledge that I was listening. "What was that you called me back there?" During my complete and utter demise?" I raised my brows, shoving his feet off the table to get the board.
"You mean when I said Sarge? Well, I figured that since you hardly ever call me Nico, no one really knows your name and the fact that I was getting annoyed by calling you by your rank all the time...Well, you needed a nickname to state the obvious." He nodded in appreciation.
"Sarge...I like it." He grinned like a fool, putting his feet back onto the table and leaning back in his chair. "Good one Fre- I mean...Nico." He smirked wildly, acting as if he'd discovered the eighth wonder of the world. "It'll catch on, I just know it!"
I rolled my eyes and made my way to my room. With the battle in the morning, I needed a good rest. Yet, I could not sleep. One thing ran through my mind, as it did almost every night. Elanja....Elanja...Elanja!
I flew up, my brow covered in sweat, and my breathing horribly irrefular. I grabbed the sheet in my fists, my bare upper body freezing. I looked around...Nothing. I had been imagining...once again. I rested my head back onto the pillow, running my hand through my hair. No matter how strong I got...She would always be my weakness.
Was it possible that I was slowly becoming insane once more? Was this only the first step of many to my complete loss of sanity? Was the thing I loved the most going to become my number one enemy? Was I just...daydreaming? Gods, my mind hurt. Sometimes, I just wished I could stop thinking...
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I woke early in the morning, preparing for my fight in only a few hours. I would be fighting another recruit, to the near death. I was fairly sure this was for their amusement for the most part, but I wanted in, so I did what I could. Sarge was already gone, probably setting up...or placing bets. This was one of the most popular ways to make money around here, I wouldn't be surprised if he was placing a couple dollars down in my name.
I eventually suited up in the normal training gear. Each person had three weapons: A sword, a knife, and one of their choosing. I chose my bow and arrow just to make it interesting. While making my way out of my house, I finally met my opponent. From this point on, it was obvious this victory was mine. I was facing a pale, sickly looking boy, who could barely hold his liquor, never the less, a sword. No one even bothered to learn his name, either. He...was a floater, to put it nicely. Why would they pit us two against each other ? Are they trying to make this as easy as possible? Ha. Either way, I'll have fun. I'll make sure of that. I polished my sword in preperation, as Sarge read the rules off one by one.
" Rule One: There is no going easy! This is a test of your fighting abilities. Not your acting ones. Rules Two: Only three weapons in the ring. Once it gets knocked out, it's useless. Continue with your other two. Rule Three: No forfeit. In real battles, a Warrior does not quit, nor does his opponent. Rule Four: Once the opponent has K/O'ed, no more. Any attacks after unconsciousness will result in disqualification. Rule Five: An eye for an eye. If any limb or body part is removed or announced physically useless, you will receive the same. Death counts for this as well. " Sarge finally took a breath.
"Alright, as for competitors, we just have two today. We have Nicholai DiEduardo, 18, First attempt. Specialty weapon: Bow and Arrows." A whirl of cheers erupted. I gulped. "And we also have Ronald Mckay, 23, Tenth attempt. Specialty weapon: Blowdarts." A rush of boos. I felt a bit better about this, now. "Alright, Recruits! To the field!"
My legs were lead as I stepped into the field, where so many other Warriors had earned their wings. And I was determined. The next one would be me. I positioned myself accordingly, and waited. I grabbed my sword first, as a Warrior would, and then the whistle sounded.
Cheers erupted everywhere. I could barely focus. I noticed that Ronald had grabbed his knife first. I scoffed. Really, this was quite too simple. That was until he pressed a trigger, and the knife folded out into a powerful looking sword. Well, if he didn't turn out to be a Warrior, he could always design weapons, that's for sure. I regained my composure, attempting to strike his right arm unsuccessfully. Ronald dodged, pushing me back with his weapon. I tried twice again, each time going after a different limb. After that, I realized the only way I could win this was by getting that weapon out of his hand. Since it started off as a knife, and turned into a sword, that meant that single weapon was twice it's worth. That meant all that would remain would be the blowdarts. And there wasn't much you could do with those.
My mind was made. I aimed for the hilt of the sword, just managing to loosen his grip to get him to release it. I circled my sword against his own, and it dropped. I shoved it away successfully. Ronald had no other choice but to grab the blowdarts. I kept my sword in my hand however. I had learned the hard way that with one swift blow to the side of the head with the flat part of the blade could instantly knock someone out. I was just about to strike, when a sharp pain entered the side of my neck. He had gotten in a move when I was distracted! Oh, well. A blowdart couldn't do all that much...that's what I thought until I hit the ground. My sword flew out of my hands, and my head hit the hard ground, with an unsatisfying crack. I heard a loud laugh, and feet scuffling over to surround me. Everything began to become blurry. However, one voice, as usual, awoke me from my daze.
"Hey, Freshie? You okay?" Something must have tipped him off, because I felt the dart rip from my neck. "Oh, gods...Hey, Nico...Get up. The battle's over. You-"
And everything blended into one black blurr.
