The Deadmages by J.C.G. & C.E.M.

Chapter 4: Training

Two in a day. Hi. Thanks for reading. Also read more stories by censational16 and mazing21. A friend and one of the author's separate accounts.

 The room was a huge atrium, complete with a skylight and representations of every power imaginable. There were trees filled with animals, Stones littering the floor, a lake full of water, a wall made of metal, even a mini river of lava flowing in a corner. Levers and switches lined two of the three walls, probably to change aspects of the room using magic. But it wasn't just the pieces of the room that amazed me. It was also the people.

They were everywhere, people using the seemingly random types of magic that come with being a dead- subment, I corrected myself. As I could see, none of the people here were dead. However, some were lined up unconscious on the wall, knocked out in their sparring matches. Trish, the little demonic child, slapped my face to get my attention. It surprised me how much force was behind it. I rubbed my cheek to try to erase the mark.

She grabbed some armor out of a pile and shoved it on me, adjusting the many buckles and straps that held it in place. When she finished, I was decked out in a breastplate made of tanned leather-covered metal, and wrist and shin guards. The breastplate reached to my shoulders and a collar that protected the base of my neck.

"Head in the game, Pure! Do you want to live? Then focus, and listen. We only have a little time before the gladiator match begins. These kids are ruthless, able to K.O you in two seconds. And that is just the people that have been here a week or two." She glared at me, then reached up to grab my ear and drag me over to an area with a few trees.

"Ow! Hey, hold on a sec. Pure? What does that mean? And what do you mean 'gladiator match'? We kill each other?" She sighed, frustrated with my stupidity, although I felt like I was quite intelligent.

"Pure is what we call newbies here. It means that you haven't felt death or loss. Most of the people in this room can name at least five people they have lost, whether it be siblings, parents, or other subment friends. 'Gladiator match' is exactly what it sounds like. You fight until the other is unconscious. We don't kill, but we also give no quarter. Life is tough, so we have to be too." Her eyes glistened. I wondered who she had watched die. Whoever it was, I didn't envy her. At least I knew my entire family was alive, even if my mother and father despised me. Trish shook herself out of her stupor, and her face hardened.

"Back to work. Now, show me what you can do." She pressed a switch on the wall and a scarecrow with a target on its chest sprouted from the ground.

"As you are a Pure, your magic will be weaker, and you will have a harder time channeling magic. That is why most of them use an object to channel their powers. It helps to focus if you point an object at something than your hands, which are wider. What will yours be? Mine was a stick given to me by my little brother. He was the last one to visit me in prison before I was to die." Her depressed expression returned, this time not even bothered to be hidden behind a mask. Trish's face stayed the same as she continued, still reliving the memories in her head. I reached into the pocket of my jacket, pulling out the flail.

"Will this work?" I asked. Trish nodded.

"Alright Snake, now focus your energy, let it surround you. Once you get to be more powerful, you will feel it all around you, all the time," Trish said. Suddenly, I had an idea. A mischievous grin made it to my face, unable to be contained.

"If you can feel it all the time, then can you? Why don't you show just how powerful you are," I said. She looked at me for a second, before lifting one of her hands. She flicked it up and forward quickly, five of the wooden spikes on her shoes jerking out of their harnesses and flying at the target. Two hit the dummy in the chest, one in the head, one in the leg, and the last in the groin. I winced involuntarily, feeling a slight twinge in each of the areas hit on the scarecrow, as if she had fired at me instead. She turned towards me, looking quite smug. I stood still, shocked into silence. Before I could even blink the wooden spikes withdrew and returned to their original slots.

"Now that that's over, let us get back to the original lesson before the gladiator match," Trish said. She broke into my personal space, lifting up my hands and flail into a fighting position, kicking my feet into a spread-out stance. She repeated her instructions from earlier. I closed my eyes, trying to feel the plants growing around me. When I felt the rush of power from the magic, I pointed my flail at the ground and swung upwards to the head of the dummy. The tiny blue flowers surrounding the scarecrow bundled together into a vine as thick around as my arm. With another powerful sweep of my weapon, the vine clambered up the pole holding the figure aloft. As it reached chest level, they spread to encircle its arms and neck. I tightened my grip on my weapon. The vines squeezed tightly until, finally, the dummy's head was detached from its sack body. Trish took a step back, her face expressionless but her hands clenched into fists. The vines receded. I sat down, exhausted from the energy spent through the spectacle.

"That was too slow. The other newbies can do their magic in half of that. You might just be the first person to die in a game where dying isn't allowed, Snake," Trish said, her face still pale. She made me stand up and perform the magic two more times on a newly crafted scarecrow, although this time my magic was much less impressive. The most I could get the vines to reach was slightly above the knee. I was leaning hard on my knees, panting. I felt a mixture of nausea and dizziness. Eventually, Trish called a break and brought out a pair of sandwiches. As soon as we had finished eating, a deafening gong rang through the training room. Trish groaned. I could only guess that this was the gladiator match's starting alarm. Hopefully, I could trip up my opponent and get a lucky blow in before I was pummeled into unconsciousness.