Inhale

Chapter 25 - Pure Inspiration

I ran towards my designated room, barely avoiding any obstacles on my way. After countless twists and turns, I ran past Recruit's Hall and towards its branching hallway. Soon, I was faced with a thick double-door, each door made of wood from a tree of some sort. Pushing the hefty planks open, I reached my destination.

Hesitantly, I walked through the halls, noticing the endless rows of transparent doors inside. Each room was symmetrical to the one across, making the hall seem like one endless loop. The only thing that differentiated each was the label on the outside, indicating which room was which. Eventually, I found my fighting arena. Cautiously and quietly, I opened the door to notice a man standing there, his back facing me.

He was tall, perhaps enough to tower above Phillip. His chocolaty hair was cut short and puffed in the front, as if he had tried to style it into a pompadour. He was wearing a loose-fitting black shirt and the typical gray-white shorts that everyone had received on day one. Eventually, he noticed my gaze and turned around. His almond brown eyes held a glint of arrogance... though perhaps I'm imagining it?

"So you're my first opponent," he stated, eyeing me up and down, "who let you join? You don't look very strong."

"And you don't act very humble."

"Are you trying to say something?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Attempting to intimidate me, he crackled his knuckles with a furious expression plastered on his face. Amusing. "If you're trying to talk, break it down, Mr. Know-It-All."

"You're not very intelligent," I scoffed, "if you really want to know, humble means not proud or arrogant, which if you didn't know already, you are."

"You've got some balls for saying that to my face."

"Bring it on, pretty boy—you're all bark and no talk," I snarled.

"Boys, settle down," a voice said on the intercom. Unlike the typical voice, this one was much deeper—it most likely belonged to a man. "You're Alastair Adair and Bae Byeon, right?"

"The one and only," Bae declared, while I only delivered a short nod. The man cleared his voice, and spoke once more.

"Alrighty then," he said, "let the battle commence!"

With that, a siren was heard, and I faced my opponent. "Let's make this quick," Bae stated, cracking his neck, "my fans are watching."

"Oh, this will be quick," I murmured, stretching my arms. However, my concentration broke once I realized my opponent was lifting his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and surprising mass.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you: my fans are watching. I have to entertain them," he explained, throwing his shirt aside. Screams could be heard from the hallway, and I peered back. Sure enough, his "dedicated" fans were watching. I shuddered at the sight. Creepy. "Now, let's go."

He rushed at me, and I was unable to dodge him. Anticipating the worse, I tensed up, awaiting impact. However, to my surprise, his punches were weak —at least, weaker than I expected from a person with his physique. Shrugging, I kept a defensive stance and continued to block his attacks—I didn't even attempt to look for an opening. For a guy like this, there wouldn't be an opening, right? I mean, there were openings, but who knows, maybe he opened them on purpose. All I know is that I don't want to take chances with him. He has more muscle than me, and I'm going to keep that in mind.

"What's wrong? You haven't even tried to attack me," he huffed, obviously running out of stamina, "are you scared of me? You should be."

He was panting. Does he not have a lot of endurance? Was this just a facade? Deciding to take a chance, I searched for a good, open slot, an area in which it was implausible that he knew of them. Eyeing his body, I found one—at his left side. I parried his punch to my right side, gripped his hand, and then punched his left side as hard as humanely possible—or rather, as hard as I could. Instantly, he cringed and collapsed to the floor. Blinking, I was confused—was it really that easy? I mounted him, and listened to the man on the intercom count. Eight... nine... ten. I got off the boy and stood before him. Apparently, I had won.

"And the match in Room A has concluded!" Hanna exclaimed on the intercom. "The winner is... Alastair Adair! Winner, please report to Recruit's Hall to tune in for details on your next match!"

"How," Bae murmured, sitting up, "how did you defeat me?"

"You're weaker than you think," I replied, peering down at the boy with a sigh, "to believe all that mass was put to waste. My friend deals harder punches than you, and he has less mass than you. Where did you get that build? From steroids? Pathetic..." With that, I walked passed his adoring fans and out the door. I'm done with his bullshit.

"Al!" a voice exclaimed. I turned to see Esmae pacing towards me. I halted, and allowed her to catch up to me.

"Yes?"

"Did you win?" she inquired. I nodded, and she released a sigh of relief. "Good... I heard about Bae and his bulging muscles...I was worried about you, Al."

"There wasn't anything to worry about—it's all for show," I scoffed, "he wasn't anything special."

"Oh, good," she said, smiling at me. We stood together in silence, waiting for an announcement, yet none was delivered. I eyed the intercom, which showed no signs of turning on. What was going on?

"Hey, dudes," Phillip suddenly said, surprising us, "why are you both just standing here? You're supposed to be going to Recruit's Hall."

"Why?"

"They don't broadcast in here," he explained, "if they did, it'll be hella noisy."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah, that's why they said to go to Recruit's Hall."

"Al, we need to hurry!" she exclaimed, shaking me.

"What?"

"I don't want to get disqualified!" she cried, pushing me towards Recruit's Hall. "Go, go, go!"

And so, we went off.

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(12/8/15): That's that! I have finally reached this point in the novel, and I'm pumped that I'm about to finish... kind of. I have plans for other stories, so I want to get to those pronto: this may or may not be taking too much time for my liking. Anyway, I hope you liked it and keep reading!