Pre-Dungeon Training Exercises [Training][Closed]

This was not something that he actually felt excited about at all. He had been having a very pleasant evening out, talking with someone who seemed interesting and getting a bit of food. Hell, he was planning on only spending around three days in town before heading back out onto the open road. Yet, he had been forced from his meal to missions and training, and some time within the next few days he was going to need to travel across to Magnostadt. He wasn't even sure if the portal was going to be active considering the fact that they had been forewarned about potential invading armies. If they were as smart as they claimed to be, they were going to block off the portal since that could just lead to people exploiting it as a back door into their territory. 

So, because of the imminent departure to Magnostadt, he had been ordered to get some more training under his belt. Apparently two years of tracking down high value targets and fighting monsters wasn't enough training for these fool. He had killed beasts and man and done so much that should have proven his strength, and yet he was being ordered around like some kind of whipping boy. There was wisdom in the order, but as he lugged the equipment to the field of battle, he didn't quite think about it in that way. 

The outfit that he was forcing himself into today looked almost like something a morris dancer would wear. Metal balls, built to weigh him down and build his muscles up through movement alone, ordained his boots, his wrists, his sleeves, basically every part of him. Moving around like this, he carried around 90 kg just through his clothes alone. A human body wouldn't have been able to take this, but it was a thankful sign that he was not human. Plus, his years around mine-carts and lifting wood for logging camps had proven themselves a useful torture, building up his muscles enough to be able to lift this with the bare minimum of difficulty.

They jangled as he walked, a soft rhythmic jangle like keys at the end of a chain, almost like there were bells in the middle of the balls. It was unlikely they would do that, that would require hollow balls and that would make them much lighter, but the noise seemed to suggest otherwise.  He could see people looking at him as he moved to the arena, his movements slightly labored with all of the weight that was being piled on him like he was some sort of human pack-horse. They were either wondering why someone would do that to themselves or they were laughing at him for doing something foolish. 

Still, he could feel his entire body getting a workout as he moved out towards the field, his training opponent standing at the other side of the field, giving him a shit-eating grin as if he didn't quite believe that he would be able to get out there, let alone wear it during the fight.


500/500 Strength C rank. 

The fight was about to begin, and Alek decided, in his eternal wisdom, that he shouldn't actually be wearing this thing if he was going to fight. It made him moving labored, so why would he go into a fight when he could barely move as it was? He wouldn't, because that's fucking stupid. Moving his arms around the hemline of his shirt, he pulled it off, peeling off most of the weights. There was still around forty kg worth of weight on him, but this was much lighter. However, it also meant that he now looked like some sort of demonic morris dancer, something that was not missed by the guy that he was having to go against, as the laughter that came from the other side of the pitch showed rather bluntly.

The battle was about to start, but there was something they needed to go through first, something that would make sure they were ready to have this fight rather than being forced out of here out of peer pressure and embarrassment. A slightly wizened, white-haired old man stood at the announcer's pulpit on the first row of the higher seats, clearly calling out for them to speak. He wasn't in the royal box despite that place being empty right now (probably out of some misplaced sense of absolute and unshakable faith, to the point where he wouldn't cross them even if they weren't anywhere around to know that he wasn't following his job to the letter). But, still, his voice carried a large amount of weight over the area, showing how the match would be carried out. 

"Captain Alek Vasilias, Centurion Erik Valhelm. You two have been selected to fight for the right to lead the Fanalis corps' survey mission to the Dungeon." Wait, WHAT?!? That wasn't mentioned when he had been told that he was going to have to fight this guy as a form of training. This was going to prove who was supposed to head off to the dungeon? He would have usually used this to fake his own injury to get out of having to do some sort of dull royal duty like exploring some unknown region rather than tracking down one of his targets, but there was something about the way that everyone treated the dungeon like some prize that had to be won that made him want to go out of his way to win it. 

After all, if it was so valuable, that meant that he was gong to be well known for claiming it, right? Fame just put him one step closer to getting the power that he had hungered for all these years. Once he finished his list, he could use the fame from this to actually get a decent job within the military; this would assure his promotion to the higher echelons, he thought, with a brutal smile. So,this fight just got a hell of a lot more interesting for both parties involved. Too bad Erik was fighting a Vasilias.

505/1000 Greater Battle Cry

With a sudden investment in the results of this match, Alek decided that now was not the time for him to start fucking around with people any more. Now he had a duty in making sure that people didn't get in between him and his dream future, and since this guy was going to be a problem, he had to be taken care of before he could postpone the eventual rise of Alek's glory throughout the land. 

The other man was another Fanalis, a body like an adonis but with a face so heavily scarred it looked almost like an esoteric map of the battlefields that he had found himself on. Thus, he was either involved in a lot of the less friendly wars out there that had resulted in a massacre of Fanalis, or he was inept. Or, he had been given to one of those slavemasters who seemed to enjoy having some sort of physical control over their slaves. He'd almost had to go with one of those once, but had been saved by his third owner having paid more. That didn't stay his blade, of course, but it was something that he acknowledged.

With the sound of a trumpet, the match began and so did the path towards the goal that was so far away at this point that it wasn't even within sight. The man shot forwards like a rocket, beating his pace across the sandy floor of the arena, faster than Alek actually felt comfortable with. Forget the concept of him not being very skilled, this guy was one of the "hit fast, hit hard" types he assumed, so if he could just tire this guy out, he'd be little more than a scapegoat. So, with that in mind, he chose one of his more controversial abilities. 

The magoi in Alek's bodies seemed to move into overtime as they shot through his throat, collecting a massive amount of energy that would shoot out like one giant scream in a few seconds, his jaw feeling like it had unhinged slightly as he let out the energy that had been building up inside his throat for the last few seconds. The sound was almost unbearable for the guy who was watching this match, his hands clasping over his ears as he was sure that something had broken inside them. 

The centurion was nowhere near as lucky, flying across the pitch from the slightest touch whereupon he rolled ass over head multiple times. It was a good thing that this area had deep sand, if he had hit something harder like stone then he would have been squashed into a pulpy mess. As much as he wanted to win this match, he would never want to spill the blood of someone on his side, he was a fighter and a guardian, not a traitor. He would only betray those who had forsaken him through their own selfishness, and then that wasn't really betrayal but more equaling the playing field, was it not? 

1000/1000 Great Battle Cry Learned 
0009/1000 Skin of Stone

Bizarrely enough, despite the fact that he was able to send the man flying, the fact that the sand had cushioned his fall had allowed him to stand back up less than a moment before. This was one of Alek's greatest flaws when it came to fighting, he was too confident about his abilities; he didn't feel like he could actually lose since he had never lost a battle so far. Two straight years of winning everything that he put his hands to had made him a little bit too over-confident, so from the moment he touched down upon the ground Alek had honestly believed that he was going to duck out of the match as he was unable to move. 

Yet, he moved, and moved as fast as he had done beforehand no less. He was like a machine, the only obvious signs of injury that he was outwardly showing was the slight limp when he put his left foot down, and the blood gushing out of his ears. Whatever damage the fall had done to him, whatever internal damage the blood dripping like a waterfall from his ears pointed at, he was still able to carry on this fight and that meant that Alek was in trouble. The speed that he had already shown was superior to Alek's own, and if he couldn't keep up with him...

He didn't even get to finish that thought as he was slammed in the gut by what he could only assume was a mace. His stomach caved in slightly around the impact as his body went flying, mirroring the way his opponent had taken his hit, except this time propelled by the man's strength rather than the pure energy that was expended during the shout. He seemed to move in slow motion as he traversed the curvature of the air, managing to roll when he landed and thus avoid any major injuries other than the countless broken ribs he could feel in his stomach every time that he moved. 

Spitting out blood as he looked across the field at him, Alek wiped his mouth, trying to think of some way to win this. He could trap him, but what with? He would have to go on the defensive, but with that guy's mace, the defensive was a very difficult position to take. A single well-timed hit from that guy, a single well executed maneouver, and shit was going to hit the fan so fast that the air was going to be 80% coprolite. 

He could only imagine how much the audience would be cheering if anyone had been allowed to see this match, he would have admitted it was a good hit if he was not the one on the receiving end of it. If he kept lying down, this sand would be like the sacrificial bed of his career, surrendered to the cruel knives of this centurion with his cold and unfeeling mace. A stirring in his magoi could be felt as he slowly felt bitterness over take his body.  

519 / 1000 Skin of stone

He was beginning to force himself back to his feet by the time that he was about to get a second helping of the centurion's rather forced "Mace jumbo" that he had been forcing into his stomach already. the whistling sound of wind shooting through the holes in the mace put there for decorative purposes was like a death rattle showing just how fucked he was, unable to get up in time. Rolling out of the way ever so slightly, the mace slammed down into the sand dune that he had just been lying on, leaving a huge imprint of the weapon's ugly shape. He'd dodged it once, but he only had so long he could continue rolling over until he decided to take him to the cleaners properly. 

So, with that, Alek's body seemed to kick into autodrive. It's said that bodies, when shown that they're in trouble and in deep stress periods are able to do amazing feats. Normal people are able to summon up an amazing amount of strength, but in Alek's case, his magoi decided to make sure that their host wasn't going to be killed in the middle of an arena match, and as the mace came down once more, it hit right against his chest... before shattering into tiny pieces, much to the amazement of the wielder, Alek and the commentator as a whole. This was not what was supposed to happen, even Alek knew it, although he was probably the only one not complaining. 

Alek's body had changed color as well as texture, feeling now more like some sort of living stone than any actual flesh of a living creature. His body had gone pure white, including his hair which now stuck together like stalagmites out of his skull. Admittedly there were some black splotches here and there across his form, but they were dwarfed by the amount of white that covered his body. 

This was the manifestation of his magoi, his body refusing to let him become just a pink smear on the sandy dunes of the floor. How dare this guy assume that he was going to win this match just because he had a weapon and Alek did not. Well, now they were on an equal playing field, and this playing field was where Alek excelled, as shown by the sadistic grin on his face. 

"I'm sorry, I hope you weren't using that~" he crooned, as if he had any more idea about what had just happened than the centurion did. "Now, you do know you can just surrender, right? Nobody's going to hold it against you... they're probably too busy wondering how you broke a mace against someone's body without causing a scratch." 

The smile that lit up across his face was truly radiant, smug and happy about the fact that he had just been vindicated and this guy now looked like an idiot, forced to embarrass himself in front of the audience... which in this case was just an injured, confused and most likely dizzy commentator. 

1000/1000 Body of Stone
0026/1000 Act of Perdition

The man was now on the back foot; even with his speed, he had a fighting style based around the mace and that meant that without the mace, he was having to go with something that he wasn't used to. Alek, on the other hand, had trained fighting hand to hand for years now, and was able to lead off on his strong foot. This was also good since his weapon actually required him to use hand-to-hand, his gauntlets just waiting for him to punch this guy straight into next week. The man backed away slightly as he realized this situation, and was now going to have to make the best of what was, for him, a very bad situation. 

Unfortunately for him, he didn't even get that chance. Now, as already said, Alek didn't want to kill this man. He was a loyal soldier to the cause and he wasn't going to betray the Fanalis corps by depriving them of an excellent soldier, but that didn't mean that he didn't want to get a little bit of payback for those broken bones that were all the more sensitive in his chest right now. he was just lucky they hadn't punctured any internal organ at this point. In fact, it was due to this fact that he was going to have to win the fight as quickly as possible. 

He had already taken out the man's weapon, but now that they were in this situation he was going to need to take out his main means of defense, and that was his body. If he continued to move, then this would just be a game of tag until one of them got tired out, and after logging that 100kg weight around for five straight minutes it was almost guaranteed that he would become out of breath first, and considering that was the case, he would then end up losing the fight and having to surrender, which would give this guy the rights to go dungeon hunting. 

As such, his actions showed absolutely no mercy to the man. Moving forwards at four times his usual speed, his gauntlet-covered fists struck out against the man, each one hitting a specially targeted area. The shoulder, the knee, and finally the spinal chord on his back. Each one seemed to break, almost crumpling to dust through the sheer force of his impacts as he slammed against the man's body. The sheer brutal force of these impacts sent him flying across the field, where he finally ended up laying, face down in the sand, and if Alek wasn't incorrect in his hearing, the guy was actually crying. What a little pussy. 

"Oh shut up. they grow back." He hissed through teeth, before adding "Besides, you crushed my ribs and all I did was break your pretty little mace. This is why I'm a captain and you're just a centurion." he mocked, glad to get his pay back in words as well as deeds. Still, though, the healers were not going to be happy having to treat both of them. But what could you expect when you put two Fanalis together and told them to fight? For bones NOT to end up broken?

563 / 1000 Act of Perdition

The fight was over, there were no two ways about it, and now that he had won the fight, his next path was clear. He was going to go to the dungeon right now and conquer it all and get all the glory and father a thousand children from his new army of concubines. Nah, seriously, his first path was to go to one of the healers. Now that the adrenaline was slowly starting to fade, the ribs were deciding to remind him that "Hey, when we broke inside your body, where do you think our fragments went?" and having a family reunion of his kidneys and a few particularly unpleasant pieces of bone shrapnel. Giving the man who'd caused this situation in the first place an evil glare,reveling in the misery that he had put him in, he began to make his way back inside. 

----

Around an hour later, with a change of clothes and a nice bandage wrapped around the middle, he was back at full strength. So, apparently, was the centurion, although he still seemed pretty upset about losing his mace. not like that was a major issue for Alek, though, as he lost his mace trying to beat the shit out of him. It was like those people who got over attached to a shirt, he thought hypocritically whilst tucking the familiar white scarf around his neck. What, had his papa given it to him all those years ago when he was a little boy first learning to pummel the ever-loving shit out of people? Had he earned it for shattering the ribs of a certain amount of people? The dislike seemed to be mutual as the guy shot him back a glare, most likely since he was the guy that had broken his precious little mace. Not that he had time to deal with this pathetic fool right now, since he had a dungeon to prepare for. 
 
A part of his mind wondered about how Sara was going to deal with this. He had promised her he'd be back for a few missions and yet this was the one that he'd been forced to go with her on. They were throwing themselves head-deep into enemy territory, and risking their very lives just to get some dungeon that had some unknown power source that could help them take over the world. this was like something out of a fantasy story told by one of the concubines. Not that he had ever actually been with a concubine, he was still relatively pure in that department, but he had heard stories. Stories like the one that he was about to write through living. 

1000/1000 Act of Perdition