NOVEL SIMPLE CHAPTER 10: Fight!
Finally, the sparring ended, and Atlas called the recruits together once more. He took center stage in the arena, his commanding presence drawing everyone’s attention. "I’ve seen you run, and I’ve seen you fight," he said, his voice firm and authoritative. "There’s no need for additional strength training yet—you can do that on your own time. For the next three days, we’ll keep up this pace. By the end of those three days, you’ll know whether you’ve made it to the full seven-day tryout."
Atlas paused, letting his words sink in. Then, with a sly grin, he added, "Before we end today, does anyone want a quick spar with me?"
A moment of silence followed as the recruits exchanged nervous glances. Finally, Wilfredo, the Latino recruit who had spoken up earlier, raised his hand with a confident grin. "I’ll take you on," he said, determination evident in his voice.
Atlas nodded, clearly pleased with the challenge. "Alright, let’s see what you’ve got."
As Atlas stepped into the arena, his eyes narrowed, focusing intently on Wilfredo. The recruits formed a loose circle around the arena, their faces a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement. This was their chance to see just how formidable their new instructor truly was.
Wilfredo grinned, rolling his shoulders and loosening up. The mace in his right hand looked formidable, its head gleaming under the gym lights. His left arm bore a shield that had clearly seen many battles. Confident—perhaps too confident—Wilfredo felt justified in his self-assuredness. He was the best among the recruits, ready to prove his worth. He had planned to try out for a team slot at “Sword & Iron” next month, but now this unexpected opportunity with the Society of Creative Battle gym was a thrilling chance.
Atlas, by contrast, remained calm, his posture relaxed. He chose a simple longsword for the sparring match, confident that it would suffice. As he glanced at Wilfredo’s mace and shield, he thought, *Good stuff, if that kid makes it through with a shield and mace combo it would be perfect for decimating some skellies. Those undead fuckers needed their heads crushed before they went down, and blunt damage like the mace was the way to go.*
The two fighters faced off, tapping their weapons together in a sign of respect before stepping back. "Alright, let’s see what you’ve got," Atlas said, his tone steady and devoid of boastfulness.
Wilfredo didn’t hesitate. He charged forward, swinging his mace in a wide arc aimed at Atlas’s side. The force behind it was enough to shatter bone. Even though the SFB tech reduced impact damage, a hit like that would hurt like a motherfucker and could cause a “crippled” status if it connected.
But Atlas was faster. He sidestepped the attack with a smooth pivot, the mace whistling harmlessly past him. Before Wilfredo could recover, Atlas closed the distance, bringing his sword up in a controlled slash toward Wilfredo’s shield.
The impact rang out through the arena, the force of it pushing Wilfredo back a step. But Atlas wasn’t done. In a blur of motion, he feinted a second strike, causing Wilfredo to raise his shield high. That’s when Atlas dropped low, sweeping his leg out and catching Wilfredo off guard. The larger man’s balance faltered, and he staggered back, barely keeping himself upright.
"Good recovery," Atlas said, nodding as he circled Wilfredo. "But you’re too predictable."
Wilfredo growled, frustration edging into his determination. He adjusted his grip on the mace and came at Atlas again, this time with a series of quick jabs and swings, trying to overwhelm him with speed and brute force. But every strike met either thin air or the flat of Atlas’s sword. It was as if Atlas could see each move coming before Wilfredo even made it.
Then, Atlas switched gears. He went on the offensive, his movements a blur. He struck at Wilfredo with precision, testing his defenses with probing strikes. Wilfredo blocked and parried as best he could, but the relentless assault was wearing him down. Atlas’s sword slipped past his guard more than once, landing light taps on his arm, leg, and torso—hits that would have caused significant bleeding if this had been a real fight. The SFB system registered those as (bleeding) damage, causing those parts of Wilfredo’s suit to respond slower.
Finally, Atlas saw an opening. Wilfredo overextended on a swing, and in that split second, Atlas disarmed him. The mace flew from Wilfredo’s grasp, clattering across the floor. Atlas followed up with a sharp strike to Wilfredo’s shield, sending him stumbling backward until he hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him.
*Man, I love doing these disarms,* Atlas thought, remembering his previous spar with Yochanan.
The arena fell silent except for the sound of Wilfredo gasping for breath. Atlas stood over him, the tip of his sword resting lightly on Wilfredo’s chest. "You’ve got power and speed," Atlas said, his tone calm and instructive. "But you’re telegraphing your moves. Learn to control your emotions and anticipate your opponent, don’t just react to them. Remember, be like water."
He stepped back, offering a hand to help Wilfredo up. Wilfredo took it, his expression a mix of exhaustion and newfound respect. He wasn’t used to losing, but it was clear that Atlas was in a different league entirely. There was a significant difference between him and what was obviously a professional like Atlas.
*No wonder the gym was putting a team together with Atlas at the center of it.*
The other recruits, who had been watching with wide eyes, exchanged looks of awe and trepidation. Atlas had barely broken a sweat, while Wilfredo looked like he’d been through the wringer.
"Good training, guys," Atlas said, addressing the group as a whole. "This is what you can expect. If you stick with it, you’ll get stronger, faster, and smarter in the arena. But it won’t be easy."
He sheathed his sword and gave Wilfredo a nod. "You did well. Keep at it."
As the group dispersed, Isabella couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and dread. If this was the level they were expected to reach, she had her work cut out for her. But damn if she wasn’t going to try. The recruits were buzzing with a newfound determination. They had seen firsthand the skill required to reach the level of excellence Atlas demonstrated, and they were eager to rise to the challenge.
Reactions to the fight were lively as recruits shared their thoughts among themselves. One recruit exclaimed, "Did you see how fast he was? Atlas made Wilfredo look like he was moving in slow motion!"
Another recruit nodded vigorously. "I’ve never seen anyone move like that. He’s like a machine—so precise and controlled. Wilfredo was no slouch; he’s one of the best we’ve seen in the gym."
Their chatter was filled with admiration and excitement. "I thought I was good, but Atlas just showed us what real skill looks like. That was incredible."
The recruits were buzzing with anticipation and eagerness. Everyone felt the weight of the challenge but also the thrill of the opportunity. This was their chance to train under someone of Atlas’s caliber, and they were ready to seize it.
As Atlas watched them go, his mind was already planning the next phase of their training. He had a team to build, and time was running out. The level of skill and dedication he had just witnessed from his recruits was promising, and he was determined to mold them into a formidable team.
---