The Los Angeles Lighthouse | ✔

Chapter 11: The Ring is a Terrible Movie

"TOMORROW," Warden Damas says, wrapping his knuckles with a thin white bandage, "marks the start of your second week of training."

A ripple of excitement follows his words. Almost everyone seems to be as surprised as myself to have made it these first seven days. Only three hundred and fifty eight left. Yippee.

"To celebrate this, the I've decided to give you your first assessment."

And just like that, our excitement disappears. After a week of drilling us till we drop and memorizing every jab, hook, and kick in the book, a little test couldn't be to bad. Even if it is, I'd been training with Brooks practically every other free period—and reading every book, note, and riddle on Somnium when I hadn't.

Damas picks up a roll of tape from where it rests below the training room's whiteboard. He moves to the center of the room while we scramble like mice to let him through. He lines the tape across the mats to form a circle, not dissimilar to the old wresting mats back in high school. The memory makes me grimace.

"Everything inside this circle is known as 'The Ring'." Damas sets the tape roll down and crosses over to the middle of the circle. "Tomorrow you each will be paired up with another Junior at random. Then—using the moves we've gone over the past week—you will fight."

A thick taste like bile floods my throat. This is the worst case senario. Books are one thing... but this?

"Aligned with the basic rules of wrestling, your opponent is out the moment both of their shoulders touch the mat. Leaving the ring will count in immediate disqualification. We won't have all day, so try to get them down as fast as possible." Warden Damas tugs off his cape, leaving it outside the circle. He takes a moment to drink in our panic. "Ace, take of your shoes, tape up your knuckles, and come here."

Ace's fingers curl into fists by his side. For a moment, it looks as if he won't do it. But after a beat, he slips off his shoes and does as told.

Damas slaps the Junior's back good naturally as he enters The Ring. Ace stiffens, saying nothing. If I actually believe Ace could feel fear, I might say he's nervous.

"Today, you'll see what an actual sparring match looks like. Watch closely." As we'd been taught prior, Damas shakes Ace's hand with a smile. Ace doesn't smile back.

It's only after they both take on a fighter's stance do I realize what's happening. "Are the actually gonna fight?" I ask.

"Well they certainly aren't about to hug." Quinton replies, his eyes lock onto the two of them as Ace brings his fists in front of his face to begin.

My throat dries. "But Damas is has like five years more experience. He's gonna flay Ace alive."

"This is only our second week," he says, "I'm sure he'll go easy."

Quinton could not have been more wrong.

The moment Damas signals the start of the round, Ace lurches forward, fists swinging and his eyes aflame. But nerves have made him sloppy. Damas sidesteps, leaving Ace to wobble uneasily to stop himself from skidding last the edge of The Ring.

I hold my breath until he's able to regain his footing.

Ventus speaks up behind me. "Ace is usually an adversary opponent. What appears to be up wit him today?"