My world spun and twisted as I lay on the ground, nausea churning in my gut. I knew I should turn my head to the side, but before that thought could translate into movement, I vomited on myself. Oddly enough, I didn't care. The slight relief outweighed any revulsion I might've felt.
Faint, distorted sounds reached my ears—footsteps, voices—but they echoed strangely, made worse by my dented helmet pressing in all the wrong places. I felt like hell and likely looked worse, sprawled out in the dirt.
Part of me wanted to replay the fight in my mind, but my body refused. Pain and exhaustion pinned me down, making it impossible to think about the battle. All I could do was lie there, breathing shallowly, waiting for the chaos around me to subside.
I stared at the sky above, watching clouds drift by without a care. For a moment, I envied them, free and untroubled. Then a black shadow fell across my vision, and my unfocused eyes drifted to the figure standing over me.
"Still awake, huh? Well, that's good." Instructor Kushim's voice was steady, with a hint of amusement. "It wasn't the best showing I've seen, but it'll do. You passed, so now I can really teach you. Congratulations, by the way."
He extended an arm as if to help me up, then withdrew it with a grimace.
"Sorry, but you're pretty nasty right now. Try getting up on your own."
Gritting my teeth, I turned onto my side and braced my palms against the ground. It took a while—I had to be careful not to heave again.
"It's okay, sir," I managed between ragged breaths. "So…what happens now?"
"Now?" He folded his arms. "You head over to the medics for a full checkup, then get cleaned up and put on the new attire we have for you."
I nodded, swaying slightly as I got to my feet. Without another word, I trudged over to the medics, doing my best not to collapse again.
They were meticulous, especially when inspecting my head. Removing the battered helmet felt like each tug might split my skull anew, but after a few tests and basic questions, they concluded I'd probably be fine. Relieved, I returned to the instructor, who waited by a door leading out of the arena.
I walked briskly; another round had already started. Veteran fighters streamed into the arena, their stylized armor and palpable confidence causing the crowd to roar. Though I couldn't see their foe, I heard its cries: a piercing shriek like scraping metal overlaid with wailing infants, raising gooseflesh on my arms.
Pausing at the doorway, I bowed my head in a brief, impromptu prayer for those stepping into that horror. I didn't know them, but the sound alone made me want to grant any bit of support I could. Then I followed the instructor inside, along corridors where the air grew hot and humid, a thin mist curling around us and thickening as we went.
"Here," Instructor Kushim said, stopping outside a door framed by drifting steam. "I'm not sure if you're familiar with a washroom, but I trust you'll manage. Clean yourself thoroughly—and don't take too long."
I couldn't guess why he was being so lenient, but I simply nodded, grateful to wash away the blood and dirt. Inside, I discovered a single pool of gently steaming water and a faint floral aroma that calmed my nerves. The warm mist caressed my skin, gradually easing the tension coiled in my muscles.
Stripping down, I left on only the wooden talisman the elder had given me. Then I stepped to the edge of the pool, dipping my feet in. The heat radiated upward, chasing the chill from my battered body. Slowly, I lowered myself in further, letting the water lap at my bruises and wounds.
For a moment, I just sat there, steam curling around my face. I scrubbed off dried blood and sweat, watching as the water grew murky with grime, though the sense of relief was worth any mess. I leaned my head back, inhaling the gentle floral scent, savoring the rare chance to simply exist without pain.
Eventually, I remembered the instructor's warning not to linger. Still, I indulged in one more minute—letting my heart steady, the knots in my shoulders loosen. In the hush broken only by soft ripples, I closed my eyes and let the warmth envelop me.
When I rose from the water, something odd caught my attention: the wound in my chest, where I'd been stabbed, was gone. Not even a scar remained. I pressed a hand to the spot, half expecting pain, but felt nothing. Most people couldn't heal like that—it unnerved me. Maybe it explained why my head still felt intact after that vicious beating.
I walked over to a neatly folded set of clothes, far better than the rags I'd worn before. The tunic was a deep charcoal linen, sturdy but nowhere near noble finery. Matching trousers were straight-cut and practical, letting me move freely. A simple belt with a brass buckle rested on top, lacking any gems or fancy ornamentation.
I slipped on the boots next—plain black leather, unadorned except for a short lace along each side. Despite their simplicity, they felt comfortable. It struck me as odd that I'd be wearing anything of this quality, but it wasn't my place to ask.
Dressed and momentarily free of grime, I stepped toward the door where Instructor Kushim waited, bracing myself for whatever awaited me.