The Game's End

Chapter 11

Suddenly I'm back in the present, the council is explaining to me that I passed the first and second tests and that now I'll be taking the third and final test, combat.

I'm taken to a dimly lit room directly across from the council's room. The floor appears to be covered in blood, the walls are lined with weapons of all sorts, and the cabinets are full to the brim with every protective guard ever made.

"Whoa," I whisper into the semi-darkness.

"Yeah, I know it's a lot. You can pick up to three weapons and any guards or pads that you want."

As I look at the many weapons and pads I notice that Samantha is looking at me with awe. I know that will change if, no, when they discover what I am. I finally decide on no pads, two silver daggers, and a bow staff with blades on both ends.

"What will I be facing? Will I have to kill it?" there was a mix of resolution and fear in my voice.

"A projected figure and you will have to kill it. Also if it hits you it will leave a mark."

Her statement made me feel better about killing it, but what did she mean by, "If it hits you it will leave a mark?" I didn't have time to ask; because as though by some magical force, the door swung open revealing an arena. As I walk out I notice that there is a projector on the ceiling. Then, there, five feet away is a hologram of a man in full battle dress and holding a club. He runs at me and I duck just in time. He seems shocked by my reaction speed and slowly turns to face me. I take my bow staff and hold it diagonally across my body, in a defensive stance. He swings at my head and I block and hit him in the shin. He swings again and then my body takes over.

I was seven when combat training began, although to me, it was all just another game. My mother handed me a foam bat as she went into fighting stance. She swiped the bat at my head and yelled "duck". Then the same again, only this time she swung at my feet yelling "jump". If I was successful, I got to use the bat against her. At first it was pretty tame, but as my mother taught me more moves, it got intense. After years of these games, I had developed skills in many martial arts and weapons.

I throw my dagger at his throat. Time seems to slow as the dagger flies through the air. I watch in anticipation as it spirals closer and closet towards my opponent. Time resumes as the dagger pierces his throat. He dissipates and with a clank, my dagger falls to the floor. The area glows with a white haze, as well as the area of the floor that was just covered in his fake blood.

Looking to my left I see the bewildered glances of my two former friends. I turn my back to them, put up my dagger from the ground where it lays, and walk out of the arena. Never once looking back.