Lost in Thought

Chapter 12

The second day of my training was quite different than the first. I fully expected to face a similar scenario, battling enemies and developing my attack skills when Ron informed me that we wouldn't be doing any of that.

A short walk from the house took us to a small quarry, deep enough that we could presumably practice without being disturbed. It was a wide open space, so there would be no surprises as there had been in the last training session.

"Today, we are going to emphasize your need for focus," he explained. "A momentary lapse in battle could be the slip-up your enemy needs to put you down. You can't let that happen, Peter. You need to be as focused as possible."

"No sweat," I answer back. "You want focus, I got focus. What am I doing today?"

"Though your enemy would prefer to eliminate you from afar," Ron began," they are adept at short-range and hand-to-hand combat as well. We will need to hone your abilities before our showdown with the Dreadnoughts. Their fleet of foot soldiers are deadly and not to be taken lightly. Now, take your place."

Standing patiently in the middle of the quarry, I watched as they walked off into the distance. I briefly wonder how they make these training sessions happen, but I'm not given much time to ponder that thought as a thick fog rolls in.

Suddenly, I'm surrounded by fog thick enough that it severely limits my ability to see anything at a distance. It hasn't enveloped me, so I'm confident that it is all a part of the training exercise. Moments later, dark figures start to form in the fog. Several of the dark soldiers I had fought in the previous days' training begin pouring out from behind the fog. There must have been a few dozen in total.

"Now, Peter, while you handled potentially being overwhelmed yesterday," Ron bellowed from somewhere in the distance," I don't want to see a repeat of that. This exercise is to hone your focus and your combat abilities. Now, the first thing I want you to do is to create a weapon for yourself."

Scrolling my mind for an ideal weapon, I quickly conjure up the biggest gun I can hold. This thing is ridiculous, like something out of a sci-fi war movie.

"Something that doesn't fire, Peter," Ron scolds. "Again, this is focusing on your hand-to-hand skills."

Sighing, I think hard once again, this time coming up with a large sword similar to a katana. No sooner does it appear in my hands, the attack begins. Most of them are carrying weapons of their own, from swords and axes to Bo staffs and hammers.

I sidestep the first few attackers, dodging their wild swings but not yet countering with an attack of my own. Gathering my thoughts, I move quickly, swiping and stabbing at anything that moves. They are quick, blocking everything I throw at them and responding in kind with advances of their own. I perform a perfectly choreographed dance, trading attacks with counters and vice versa. From afar, it may have looked like we rehearsed this many times before actually performing it.

Finally, an idea struck me. I decided to try to focus my energy on my strikes, adding as much force to each blow as I could. Perhaps if I couldn't beat them with finesse, I could out-muscle them. Swinging with everything I had, it began to work. Though my swing was blocked, I delivered a hard enough blow to send my assailant flying backwards, taking out several of his companions.

Focusing my power even more, countered their counters by knocking the weapon from their hands and running them through with my sword. Running two or three of them through at once, I created a grotesque shish kabob. With them still hanging from my sword, I used the weapon and their bodies as a battering ram, knocking over my opponents as if I were a runaway rhino.

They finally got the bright idea to bum rush me. Turns out it was a pretty good idea. They swarmed in around me, limiting my ability to strike and ultimately taking my weapon from me. Two of them restrained my arms as a third approached, ready to deliver the final strike. Focusing all of my energy, I once again enhanced my strength, tossing the two that had been holding me into my executioner, sending them toppling to the ground like bowling pins.