Inhale

Chapter 22 - A Man of Precision

"So, what did you think about it?" Phillip asked.

"About the test?" Esmae inquired.

"Obviously... what else could I be talking about?"

Phillip, Esmae, and I had recently completed the physical intelligence part of the PEPIT, and we were strolling out of the room. Since we were placed in the same group, we took the test in the same place. Due to this, we were closely monitored, which had more or less negatively affected the other two, while I was nonchalant of the extra set. Though the official results were to be released tomorrow, those who managed to score a 90 or above were told in advance. As expected, I was one of those perfect testers and was congratulated; it's good to know when you do well.

"I know I got at least proficient," Esmae replied, "not sure on advanced... I didn't really study."

"At least you know the lowest score you could've gotten," Phil complained, "because of those creepy moderators, I was shaking! Though I studied, I was clueless!"

"Poor Philly. He's such a bad test-taker, and it doesn't help that he had to take it blind," she said with pity.

"Blind?" he inquired, tilting his head. Realizing what she had said, he chuckled, perplexing the two of us. "I don't need those glasses, Mae–those were non-prescription!"

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, I don't need glasses—I just like how I look in them," he sang. "I hate how my eyes look without frames, so I wear frames–that's all." Awkward silence ensued, with the two of us staring at the merry man. Soon, Esmae broke the silence when she cleared her throat.

"Anyways, how do you feel, Al?" she asked, turning to me. I suppose it's my turn.

"I didn't worry about it," I stated, "I memorized all the material the day prior."

"You are a genius, after all," Phillip muttered, nervously chuckling. We all remained taciturn, walking back to the dorms. Once we arrived at the girl's dormitory, Esmae perked up and turned to us.

"Tomorrow's the tournament!" Esmae excitedly declared, face beaming in delight. "Are you two ready?"

"More than ready," Phillip quickly replied, delivering a thumb up, "I'm ready to beat some people up!"

"That's Phil for you. He has faith in his skills," she sang, grinning big. Once more, she turned to me, expecting a response. "What about you, Al?"

My pupils darted elsewhere, and I caught sight of the Drill Sergeant. What a perfect opportunity. "Sorry, but I have to go," I told, waving at the pair. Before they could retort and state their demands, I paced over towards the Drill Sergeant, managing to avoid any further question.

"Sir, is anyone in the training grounds?" I inquired.

"Not that I know of," he replied, peering down at me, "why?"

"I'd like to go train, sir," I trailed, "for tomorrow."

He stared at me with a raised brow, and I gazed back at him. We traded sight for a while before he yielded, sighing. "If you're serious about it, go ahead," he obliged, beckoning me off, "be safe, soldier."

"Understood," I responded, slightly bowing before rushing off.

When I arrived at the training grounds, it was silent–just how I liked it. I ventured towards the training area, examining my surroundings. They had an expansive selection, their arsenal containing weapons such as guns, bows, swords, and daggers. On the other hand, they didn't have much in their armory nor equipment. They had plenty of dummies, but punching bags were a different matter. They had six bags: a speed bag, three heavy bags, and two swerve bags. After a long time of consideration, I decided to train my accuracy and waltzed towards the guns.