Chapter 13: I guess I die in a year
"Oi, kid, wake up. We gotta get to training A-S-A-P. C'mon let's go!"
I startled awake by the sound of a young man. "Huh? What's goin' on? What training?"
The guy shook me up and down on the cot I was on. I opened up my eyes slightly to see a man uncomfortably close to my face. "Get up!"
"Alright-alright! Give me a second, won'cha? Damn, resting sounds good right about now though..."
A slap flew across my face, its sting lingering from the slap. I jolted upright.
"Ouch! What the heck, bro!?!"
"I said get up. We don't have any time to waste here in this pathetic dungeon, so get your ass up and let's move!"
I hopped out off the makeshift cot, finally able to see my surroundings. I was in a prison cell, only the walls weren't brick, but instead a burgundy clay. The cell was almost completely empty except for a hole in the ground, a tray with food, a bowl of water and the cot I was comfortably asleep on.
The white t-shirt I had on was now gone, revealing my chest and abs.
"Hey man, where's my shirt?"
"You'll be thanking me for not having to wear it later. Get up kid, we're leavin'."
"Aw, Dang it!"
"I said let's go!"
The man wore a black dress shirt, unbuttoned all the way down until midway, revealing his chest. His sleeves seemed to have cut off, making it more of a fancy tank-top now. Likewise, the guy wore black jeans that were ripped off to below the knee. The dude had messy hair that looked like it had attempted to be bangs, but the strands just decided to stick out and curve upward. His eyes were a night black, which were filled with optimism, but also intimidation. To be honest, he looked young, maybe early thirties or late twenties. He did have a very bizarre sense of style and attitude though, if you ask me.
The guy didn't wear any shoes at all. He was human unlike the rest of the people here, but he had a bit of beast attitude to him. Every once in a while he grunted, even though he didn't seem tired. Not only that, one minute, he's completely angry, the next second the guy's calm. I could usually read people as easily as a book, but this guy was peculiar. I couldn't see what it was with him.
After we got out of the Burcham's castle, he asked me to do a very hard favor.
"Where on earth are you from?" the guy asked. His voice was rugged and a little bit sleepy.
"Ummm, what do you mean?"
"Sorry, guess I should rephrase that. Which part of earth are you from?"
"Oh. Well, I was in Seattle until just about three days ago. Wait was the hunt yesterday?"
"Yeah. You did good kid. I could see great potential in you. You have—" he grunted directly in the middle of his sentence. "You have something unique about you Andrew."
"Also, what did you mean by training earlier?"
"There is no time for questions. You said you lived in Seattle, yeah? Then I want you to thirty kilometers by noon."
"Excuse me, what?"
"You heard me. You got til' noon. Go!"
I could barely comprehend what how far he wanted me to run. He wanted to me to run eighteen miles? Even during the trial I didn't run that far. I maybe ran eight miles, tops. And I didn't even run that long either. I walked most of the time— except when I was jumping from tree to tree during my 'Time Stop'—and sometimes ran on the ground. But twelve miles by noon? That was almost physically impossible, despite it being six in the morning.
But I didn't really have a choice though. I blasted off down the path.
My legs felt like they were falling apart about twenty minutes in. I couldn't keep up the same pace for nine more miles. It can't be done.
'No. I can do this. I'm not gonna quit,' I thought.
My legs and stomach were in intense pain. Sweat covered my body from head to toe, the sun beating down on my back. The guy was right when he said I would be thanking him for not making me wear my denim jacket and white t-shirt.
It was already about ten, and I had only ran seven miles. My speed was drastically decreasing. At the pace I was, it was gonna be almost impossible to run eleven more miles.
The sun continued to beat against my back. The speed I was once going at was disappearing.
It was already noon by now, but I was going to finish what the man told me to the start. After all, I had to beat in his face somehow. I started to run faster.
Sweat beads slid down my neck and onto my back. I had ran seventeen miles by now. Only one mile left to go. I sprinted like my life really depended on it.
I had made it. Even if it took me past noon, I was still proud I had at least made it eighteen miles. I collapsed down at the feet of the man, breathing heavily.
"Great job kid. It's past noon, but I'm still impressed you made it, even after the deadline. And that is what matters: to keep going even if you know you aren't gonna make it. Come. I'll have Jarun remove your fatigue and we'll talk about training."
He turned around and yelled at the top of his lungs. "Jarun!"
The kid arrived in about five minutes, completely out of breath.
"What... do ya... need... Thomas?" he said in between breaths.
For a weird guy, he has a pretty uninteresting name. Thomas? I thought it would be completely different than what I had in mind.
"We need you to take care of Andrew's fatigue over here," Thomas said casually.
"Are you... serious? You made me run all the way here just to use my power?"
"Yep. We can take you to lunch with us, if ya wa—"
"Deal."
Guess Jarun likes food a bit much, because he practically rapped the alien words. My fatigue was gone within seconds.
"Thanks bro," I said.
"No problem."
The three of us walked over to a local stand that was selling some kind of burrito, along with a side of fry-looking things. They were a crispy golden color, but the fries were larger than the ones that you get at a McDonald's back on earth.
After Thomas had ordered everything, we sat down at a table while Jarun was munching on a fruit Thomas gave to him.
"Alright, Andrew. Lemme explain about what this training is," Thomas said.
"Go on."
"Andrew... the king has given me a year before you fight to the death against Ziya."
"What..."
My head was feeling dizzy. It was racing with questions and thoughts. A fight... against Ziya?
"I said to King Burcham that I could train you to be better than Ziya in a year. Otherwise, if you die in a battle against her, then I will also die. So I have a year to train you about... 1000 levels."
When he said levels, it reminded me of the quest before I blacked out, the one called 'Revenge'. I could've gotten ten stat points into my system. That sucked that I couldn't get ten more chasm points.
But that didn't worry me at the moment. What worried me was how much he was going to make me grind for levels.
"Question, Thomas: how long exactly did it take for Ziya to level up to the level she is right now?"
He paused for a moment, as if in thought.
"Well, right now she is level 950 and that took about thirteen years. I was fourteen when she was born, so, we're cramming thirteen years of grinding into barely a year."
It didn't take me a second to realize my fate.
I shuddered with grief. "I'm a walking dead man."
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