Steam filled the white shower room as hot water poured over Dante’s shoulders. Like everything else in the Arena, the showers had not a hint of color, white tiles, and stainless steel fixtures held the only personality of the room.
I forgot how quiet this place was.
The colorless rooms, the sound, the isolation.
Forcing you to think and think or else risk going mad.
Some might say it's a way of stripping away individuality, I thought so too.
…
That is, in fact, right, but only for lesser people.
This room this quietness, it is one of the reasons I survived, and sharpened my own mind.
I used to think of nonsense just to get my mind active but eventually with all the tests my mind was spent reviewing them whether I liked it or not.
When he finally turned off the water, his fingers were wrinkled, his muscles relaxed despite the day’s rigorous training. He wrapped a white towel around his waist and stood before the mirror, wiping away condensation with his palm.
The face that stared back at him was familiar yet changed. The same ocean blue eyes, but something different in them now, a focus he hadn’t seen in years. He placed his hands on the edge of the sink, leaning closer to examine himself.
I missed some obvious signs in the simulation. Three years ago, I would have caught them immediately. My mind has become less sharp.
He traced a finger along the small scar above his eyebrow—a reminder of his encounter with Cole years ago.
I’ve gotten soft. I was a fool.
I wanted to be comfortable in my life outside these walls.
To live a normal life, but as long as the fight for the head of the family goes on, I can’t.
So until it’s done. I must grow stronger!
The tactical assessment had gone well enough, until…
Dante exhaled and started to dry himself.
I failed, no excuse, I have to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.
It’s a new day, so, time to move forward, I guess.
He straightened, rolling his shoulders back as he assessed the physical changes since his last time in the Arena. His body was stronger now, more developed than the teenager who had walked away three years ago. But his mind had lost the edge it once had.
With a sigh, Dante turned away from the mirror and dressed in plain white clothing.
The hallway outside the shower room was equally stark—white walls, white floors, white ceiling.
Well at least unlike when I was younger I can walk around now and not be stuck in a single room until they say otherwise. But still a map shown to me only in the morning and I’m expected to remember how to get everywhere?
To top it off, things like this.
Dante approached what should have been a simple corridor junction but found himself facing a ten-foot vertical wall with only small, irregularly spaced protrusions for handholds. Above it, the ceiling opened to a narrow ledge that led to the next section of the facility.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
A series of tests involving me and Parkour.
Getting to any level around here involves this.
The daily route changes. Another test within the very architecture.
Without hesitation, Dante began to calculate his path up the wall, identifying the sequence of holds that he would need. He launched himself upward, fingers finding purchase on the tiny ledges, feet pushing against minimal outcroppings.
He ignored the pain from the fight from the day before as his muscles engaged in scaling the wall.
At the top, instead of a simple walkway, a series of platforms awaited him. Some looked stable, others were visibly designed to tilt or rotate if weight wasn’t properly distributed.
One particular hall made it impossible for him to move without a shift, causing him to run on the wall before jumping and rolling past.
He had failed three times only to have the floor moved in reverse, forcing him to try again.
Ok, I know that I wanted to come here but.
…
I just want breakfast!
Why does even the simple act of getting breakfast require so much damn calculation and effort!
Dante made his way to the cafeteria, a large open space with long white tables arranged in perfect rows. Despite being nearly full, the room was eerily quiet—only the soft clink of utensils against plates breaking the silence.
Dozens of others sat eating, all in identical white clothing, none making eye contact. Some looked barely older than children, others well into adulthood, but all shared the same hollow-eyed focus.
I was told there would be others.
I always thought this place was just for me and my siblings, but before coming here Katarina told me that there would be others.
When I asked her where they went, she told me she didn’t know.
Well, that's not entirely true, there were others but they were always brought into a designated room where I was forced to compete with them.
Father exactly what are you trying to accomplish here.
No that's not important, every month someone graduates that's the rule just one person. I was given only 3 months to graduate. If I succeed I’ll gain a piece of the Mercier business.
While I don’t personally care about that, I’ll need it to make Mirabella think twice.
Dante moved to a wall with a hand scanner. Once his hand was scanned, a portion of the wall slid open, revealing a tray.
Grilled strips of something that resembled chicken lay in rows beside a scoop of rice and a few vegetables. The food had no smell, no color beyond the bare minimum.
I forgot how… satisfying the food here was.
He took the tray and found an empty spot at one of the tables.
A young woman sat across from him, her hands trembling slightly as she ate. Fresh bruises peeked out from her sleeve when she reached for her water. She didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge his presence, but continued eating.
To Dante’s right, a man with haunted eyes ate. Unlike the woman, he showed no physical signs of struggle—no trembling, nor any visible injuries. But it appeared as if his very soul was stripped from him, an eerie feeling emanated from his gaze.
Silence.
Speaking during meals was prohibited—another rule designed to foster focus and eliminate distractions. The surveillance system would register any conversation, resulting in immediate consequences. So I was told.
Beep.
Huh?
He glanced at the holo-image, which had activated in front of him from the table. A message waited for him:
MERCIER, DANTE
SCHEDULE: DAY 2
0500: WAKE
0515: PHYSICAL CONDITIONING
0645: NUTRITIONAL INTAKE
0730: NEUROPLASTICITY ACCELERATION - TRAINING CELL 7
1230: NUTRITIONAL INTAKE
1315: COGNITIVE DEPTH ASSESSMENT
1800: NUTRITIONAL INTAKE
1845: PERSONAL MAINTENANCE
2000: REFLECTION PERIOD
2200: SLEEP CYCLE BEGINS
His mind drifted to the neuroplasticity acceleration session scheduled next. He had experienced it before, years ago, and the memory alone made his temples throb. Electrodes attached to his head, stimulating neural pathways while he performed increasingly complex tasks.
Well I guess it’s about to be time for more brain accelerating.
Dante continued his meal, preparing for the day ahead.
