GATE: First Encounter

Chapter 29

I lay on my back, eyes fixed on the rusty pipes overhead. My breathing had finally slowed, yet a crushing weight still pressed on my chest. My muscles no longer screamed; they merely trembled, like earth quivering after a storm. It felt as though every cell in my body was breathing on its own. The first day of the war was over—or at least, the first skirmish.

Lynx crouched beside my head. The stern trainer's mask had slipped; worry and camaraderie resurfaced on her face. Her gaze had softened, though her voice remained firm.

"More than enough for a first day. I didn't expect you to burn out this fast," she said.

I turned my eyes to her. "Is that praise or an insult?"

A faint, exhausted smile flickered across Lynx's lips—the first hint of a grin I'd seen all day, and it stirred something frozen inside me.

"Maybe both," she replied. "But know this: your body's begun to learn its limits. The real fight begins once we push past them."

Silence settled for a few seconds—only my ragged breaths and the rattling vent overhead broke it.

While folding the mats in the corner, Lynx paused. Without looking at me, she spoke, each word striking straight at my core:

"Whether I'm here or not... keep training. This place is yours now—the ground where your will is forged."

She set one weight aside, and her tone grew graver.

"We're out of time. Before they arrive, your body—no, your mind—has to harden further. You have to do this when you're alone, too. If you give up when I'm not here, you'll give up when the real fight comes."

She turned to face me. This time I saw not a drill-sergeant's severity, but a warrior's honesty.

"The gear stays. Vibro-weights, balance bar, resistance bands—use whatever. This room can be your hell, but it can also be where you're reborn."

She took a few steps toward the door, then stopped.

"I won't go easy on you, Okan. What we did today was only a beginning. If you mean to stay alive, you'll sink your body and your mind into the mud, a little deeper each day. But if you ever climb out of that mire on your own... no one will be able to stop you."

At the threshold she added one last note:

"If you want an earlier start tomorrow, be here before the lights come on."

Cold air drifted in as the heavy door slid open. Lynx stepped through, and the door sealed shut behind her.

Only the silence remained—but it was different now. It carried less fear, more distilled resolve. I looked at the empty crates, the wall-leaning weights, the pulse-gnawing metal spheres. Each told its own tale of pain and power.

"After you rest, we can begin again."

Yaren's voice surfaced—steady, a second light burning in the dark.

I drew a deep breath. My body ached; my muscles sang with pain. But this war wouldn't be won on muscle alone.

I raised my head, eyes on the flickering ghost-white light above.

"Not later... maybe now," I murmured. The words slid from the depths of my mind more than from my lips. Getting up wasn't about wanting anymore; it was a necessity. My body moved a heartbeat ahead of my will. I pushed up on my elbows. Every motion sent an electric burn through fatigued flesh, yet the pain differed from this morning's—it felt alive, as if something inside me had begun a forced reconstruction.