Sanctum

Chapter One - Zorell

"Get up, Zorell"

He's here. And he's definitely become louder since the last time I encountered him. He's puzzling and peculiar. And that annoys me. I wish he didn't exist. It would make my existence a lot simpler.

Where did he come from?
More importantly: When did he come about? Two questions which always burn when I'm in my state of zen or profusely thinking about everything.

But these questions are not important right now. I need to pay attention to the immediate situation: Him. So I need to push these questions back to the back of my mind and focus now.

"Get up!"

I don't need to hear the disappointment in his screams, or even lay eyes on him before he screams. The disappointment is already exuding from him and it seeped through me far before I heard or saw him.

All I know right now is that I can't. I don't have the energy. I'm expended.

"Don't you dare give me that pitiful excuse!"

Look at me. I'm on my hands and knees. I'm sweating like a dog. Can't you see I'm finished for today?!

"Disappointing. How will you ever catch up to me, in that disgusting state?"

No. Now I cannot let you have that comment. You've been pestering me for god-knows-how-long and you think you can get away with that?
One fist down.
Two fists down.
Up we get.
My body still feels heavy, like a weight has been added to my chest. I move forward in this seemingly drunken state for a split second, before I realise why I got up.
I focus.
I roar.
I got this.

"Lets do this" I say as I turn to my training partner. A simple "Ayt" signals that he understands. Now I must push myself.
Jab. Jab, crossover, snap back.
Jab, crossover, jab, uppercut.
Jab, crossover, jab, dodge, crossover.
Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. RINSE. REPEAT. RINSE.

"Repeat dammit" my mind screams.

With each cycle, my body gets slower, my breath heavier, my muscles more painful with each jab and crossover that I make. But I must do it. I cannot stop until I'm completely finished. I must...I must catch him. He is right after all.

With a final heave, I push the last ounce of my energy out in a final crossover, almost putting my soul into that final punch. It hits the pad -pitifully lightly of course - but that doesn't concern me. All I can think of is not smashing my head into the floor as I fall down and splay myself out into the shape of a star.

"Well done. Now you've got resolve. You might finally be able to get here after all."

I will get there. After all, I need to take my throne back. It doesn't befit me that you rule my inner world and mind, and I simply rule this body of flesh. This body of flesh which is useless to me in this current state.

I know you try to help us as much as you can, and even after that, my body fails us. So I will change this body. I will change it to the state that you are in. That we should be in.

Thanks. I needed that.