On the packed earth courtyard of a dreary castle, Adakontus thrust his sword-lance upward, retracted it, then thrust again. The sword-lance was about four meters of solid metal, with a meter long blade at one end and counterweight at the other. His muscles burned. The sword-lance, as Adakontus had named it, weighed an impractical amount. A stupid weapon. Again, he thrust the lump of metal into the air.

  Fifty-nine other men and women repeated the same motions as Adakontus, in two lines of thirty. Adakontus was in the first row, which meant he mostly stared straight ahead at a boring, stone wall. Still, he managed to catch brief glances at the others. The trainees were of all skin tones and hair colors, some even showed outlandish hues like bright blue or pink. However, the most common combination was tanned skin and dark hair, like Adakontus himself. The trainees showed more similarities than differences. All the trainees were young, athletic, and nearly the same height and width. Most embarrassingly, they were all naked, but none of them had the luxury to worry about personal dignity.

  The courtyard was quiet, the only sounds being the restrained grunts of the students. Pungent sweat drifted on the air. The shadows grew longer as blackish clouds snuffed out the few singular rays of sunlight. In this strange land, night arrived early and stayed late. The gradual transition from dark to darker brought no sleep. Rest was not permitted. The passage of time only meant more practice. As his muscles weakened, Adakontus felt his form slip. He neared the point of exhaustion.

  The Instructor appeared out of nowhere on silent footsteps. A skinless man with a skull for a head, made solely of white bone, gray muscles, and black tendons. All of its humanity had been scraped away, leaving only what was necessary for combat prowess. It snatched the haft of the sword-lance in its bony fingers, repositioned it, and painfully smacked Adakontus back into proper form. It hovered about for a moment. The wisps of blue light in its empty eye sockets drilled into Adakontus. It departed. Adakontus breathed a sigh of relief. That thing terrified him.

  On the heels of the Instructor, as always, came the Healer. It looked like a decrepit, pasty man in a threadbare, red robe. Its entire head was encased in a smooth, silver sphere, which did not hinder it in the slightest. It leaned on a gnarled old staff as he hobbled around, always three steps behind the instructor and struggling to keep pace with the monster’s perfected movements. It looked at Adakontus a moment. With a flick of its hand and a flash of red, it expunged all of Adakontus’ exhaustion before hobbling off.

  ‘Next form,’ the words shouted in his mind.

  Adakontus lunged, with his left knee forward, and his left hand first on the sword-lance. The sword-lance itself was extended beyond its center of gravity with the counterweight tucked under his right armpit. Once in position, Adakontus held as still as possible. His whole body writhed with tension.

  He dubbed this form: “The Left Lunge.” It was the most difficult form, only slightly worse than the “The Right Lunge”. Unfortunately, “The Right Lunge” was the next form in the sequence. Next was “The Left Angle”, where Adakontus would point the sword-lance past his left foot and raise the counterweight as high as he could. After that was, predictably, “The Right Angle.”

  There were nine forms that needed to be held and fifteen variations of strikes, making a total of twenty-four forms or one sequence. Adakontus had been at this continuous training for at least a hundred sequences, which was his most recent count. He often lost track. Probably because he’d already gone insane long ago.

  The tip of the sword-lance wavered in the air and killed Adakontus’ idle thoughts. That small bit of movement would draw the Instructor’s punishment. He wrangled the sword-lance back under control. The Instructor became crueler during the two lunges, precisely because they were the most difficult forms. Adakontus clenched his jaw. The Healer had already paid him a visit recently. He had no choice but to hold on.

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  ‘Next form.’

  Sequences passed, and it was the dead of night. Which meant it was slightly darker than normal. Honestly, it was impossible to tell. Adakontus only kept time in an attempt to preserve what remained of his sanity. He was at the end of his rope. His arms shook with stress, and he barely made an attempt to maintain form. His ears strained, desperate to hear the soft tap-tap-tap of the Healer’s staff in the dirt. Adakontus only needed to hold on a little longer, a little harder.

  ‘Next form.’

  Adakontus was shifting to “The Right Angle”, when he heard that sweet sound of respite. The Healer was coming his way. The Instructor stopped to watch Adakontus, blue flames hovering in its empty eyeholes, measuring him. He paid that thing no mind. The healer waddled up, its silvery helmet looking exceptionally resplendent. It reached out to lift Adakontus’ pain — When the Instructor stopped it.

  Adakontus’ eyes widened in dread. His eyes met with the Instructor’s non-eyes. The thing seemed pleased. Even without facial expressions, it radiated smugness. Then it waited. Adakontus never witnessed any trainee break entirely. Now, Adakontus would. If not now, then later, but certainly eventually, Adakontus would break. The Instructor sealed his fate. His last hope was that some other student broke first.

  Adakontus didn’t last long. His spirit gave way, and so did his fingers. His sword-lance fell to the dirt. Adakontus squeezed his eyes shut. In a best case scenario, the Instructor would strike him dead at this very moment. Otherwise, he was in for pain.

  ‘Cease forms.’

  The trainees all defaulted to what Adakontus called “Vertical Hold,” the easiest form. Confusion flickered across their faces.

  The Instructor dragged Adakontus out of the formation of students by the elbow, and Adakontus complied listlessly. They stopped a few feet from a dark wood double door that led into the castle proper.

  ‘You. Again,’ The voice spoke into his mind. Adakontus had always suspected the mental voice was the instructor’s, but he was never certain. At least he gained some closure before death.

  But wait…

  “Again?” Adakontus rasped out.

  ‘Second time you have broken. The runt of the litter.’ The Instructor oozed amusement.

  ‘You are conscious. Strange. How long have you been aware?’

  “At least one hundred sequences, maybe more.”

  The Instructor hesitated.

  ‘Use different word. Orb of Tongues did not recognize “sequences.”’

  “Rotation?” Adakontus mumbled.

  The Instructor sized him up.

  ‘Innate resilience to magic. Inconvenient but useful. Come.’

  The castle doors opened before us revealing a stone hallway filled with skeleton servants, all of them motionlessly cocked at a half-bow. These skeletons were of the normal variety, thankfully not an abominable muscle skeleton like The Instructor. Adakontus assumed the skeletons were animated, although he saw nothing that indicated they were anything but macabre decoration. Everything about the castle was so utilitarian, it seemed out of character to have decorations, even decorations as fitting as dead people.

  The Instructor took Adakontus deeper and downward. The scenery was all the same unadorned, windowless masonry. Only the transition from hallway to stairway broke the monotony. Adakontus lost track of what set of turns they took. The place was labyrinthian. All in all, it didn’t bother Adakontus. So long as he wasn’t going to die and didn’t need to hold that damn lump of metal, he was content.

  They reached their destination deep in the bowels of the earth. Or at least Adakontus assumed it was the bowels. It reeked. The final turn revealed the source of the stench. A massive translucent slug monster laid in a pool of mixed sludge and filth. Adakontus dry heaved, but there was nothing to puke. One of the monster’s eyestalks lazily glanced at The Instructor. A moment of tortuous silence passed between them. Then, all seven of the slug’s eyestalks fixated on Adakontus.

  He fainted.