Chapter 15 Yiran #3
A desert. They were in a freaking desert.
Yiran whistled. It was impressive. Ash had told him about the Simulator, but seeing it with his own eyes was a whole different
thing.
“Isn’t it cool?” Rui said, her eyes suddenly round and shiny like marbles. “Everything’s fake, but the program tricks your
brain into thinking it’s real.”
Yiran sensed that this place was somehow comforting for her. How many hours had she logged in this training facility? She
didn’t strike Yiran as someone with a social life.
The ground rumbled suddenly. A butte shot up, shaking sand all over him. He stumbled and came close to face-planting. He caught his balance in time, but the sand bit into his palms like greedy insects. Small pinhole-sized wells of blood formed on his skin.
Yiran wiped his stinging palms on his pants. Blood stained the corner of his untucked shirt. It’s fake, he reminded himself. But it was still unsettling.
Unbuttoning his cuffs, he started rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. “Sure wish I was wearing something more appropriate
for sparring.”
Rui smirked. “Pants too tight? Feel free to take them off. You can do this shirtless too; we don’t mind.”
Laughter came from outside the simulation. The other cadets must be watching them, but Yiran couldn’t see them at all. Refusing
to take Rui’s bait, he folded his sleeves nonchalantly and stretched his legs. He wasn’t too worried. The reason why he wasn’t
captain of the fencing team was because he’d lost a frivolous bet involving a frog. He knew his way around a foil, and he was sure
he could adapt to the dummy swords. Hell, he’d already killed his first Revenant. He bit back a smile, knowing that Rui would
take his confidence as a sign to make things harder for him.
Two swords appeared in the air.
Rui plucked one and gave it a twirl. “All right, try to disarm me.”
“Okay—”
Her blade was at his clavicle before he could twitch a finger. Yiran felt its chilly edge testing his skin. Someone in the
audience gave a hoot of approval.
“Shouldn’t you wait until I’ve armed myself?” he said.
“Would a Revenant wait to attack you?”
“Touché.”
Rui lowered her blade, and Yiran grabbed the other sword. It felt right in his hand, not quite like how he’d felt when he used Rui’s sword after the magic swap, but close. Ash had said the Simulator’s programs were dynamically adaptive. Was this what he meant?
Rui leaped back, positioning herself for attack. “Ready?”
Yiran had barely any time to inhale before she lunged at him.
She was fast. Lithe and graceful like a deadly dancer who knew a dozen different ways to cut you up. Her moves were unexpected.
He could tell she worked more by intuition than technique. If the spell had taken away her magic, it’d done nothing to lessen
her martial arts skills.
Yiran parried her attacks, but Rui managed to hit him again and again. He’d trained for years, but fencing had structure and
rules. It had etiquette. Right now, none of that mattered. There was no priority to consider. No waiting, no politeness. Just
a girl coming at him with a killer instinct and no hesitation. If Rui wanted to hurt him, his shirt would be in shreds and
his body carved with wounds.
The ground was another issue. Whenever he fell or braced himself, gravel and coarse sand cut into his skin. Pain signals flooded
his brain. It wasn’t real, but it felt real, and that made all the difference. He didn’t like the Simulator. Didn’t like things that messed with his mind. But he
was developing a grudging respect for whoever had invented it.
“Get up,” Rui ordered. She’d knocked his sword out of his hand and tripped him up with a well-aimed poke at the ankles. “I
thought you were captain of the fencing team.”
“Vice captain,” Yiran said, “and we both know this isn’t fencing.”
“Then you should know there’s only one solution to this—stop fencing.”
Yiran rose to his feet and retrieved his sword. Sweat dripped down his back, and his shirt stuck uncomfortably to his skin.
As he lifted it to wipe his face and chest, he caught Rui glancing briefly at his bare torso.
Yiran grinned. “On second thought, I think I’ll do this shirtless.” He slipped his top off and tossed it in the corner. A
round of wolf whistles came from the audience.
Rui rolled her eyes. “A Revenant’s not going to ogle at your abs.”
“Good thing I’m not fighting a Revenant today.”
“Trying to distract me because you can’t think of a better way to beat me? That’s pathetic.”
“So you admit you are distracted?”
Her smile turned dangerously sweet. “Let’s find out.”
Rui advanced. Something had changed—her footwork twisted rapidly, and her attacks became even more unpredictable.
She was no longer holding back.
Yiran struggled to fend her off. He was getting hit too often, losing his footing and falling over himself like a useless
fool. He was embarrassing himself in front of the people he wanted to impress.
There’s only one solution to this—stop fencing.
That was the point, wasn’t it? This was a fight. A brawl. No rules, no etiquette. A Revenant wouldn’t give him the courtesy to catch his balance or breath. But before he
could think of his next move, Rui came for him.
Yiran dodged her fist, but her leg swung out of nowhere, catching the back of his knees. He lost his weapon and went down
on the sand on all fours. Once again, Rui’s blade was at his throat.
“We’re done,” she said, lips curling in satisfaction.
Yiran glared up at her. “Not yet. One more round.”
“The outcome isn’t going to change, but if you insist.”
“I do insist.”
Rui shrugged. “Suit yourself. On your feet then.”
As Yiran grabbed his sword, someone yelled, “Now for the fun part!”
Mai. He recognized her voice. What the heck was she doing?
Rui frowned, looking equally confused. “What fun part?”
The arena changed into solid ground and concrete walls. The lights dimmed. Nausea churned in Yiran’s stomach. He’d been moving
so fast the switch hit him hard. He squinted at the shining orb above him. What was the moon doing there?
In front of him, grimy metal containers were stacked on top of each other to form a kind of pattern. A warehouse? No—a maze. Either he had to solve it, or he had to chase something and catch it. Or maybe something’s chasing me.
He shook his head to clear it. “Rui?”
She was nowhere to be seen.
A silvery trail appeared above one of the containers like glitter scattered across the air, hovering in an unnatural manner.
Another trail appeared. Then another. Yiran smelled something. A flowery scent. Not roses, not chrysanthemums. Something more
cloying and mixed with the stench of decay. What was that sound? It was almost like a baby’s cry. The small hairs on Yiran’s
arms and neck stood. Something skittered behind him. He spun around. Nothing but containers and darkness.
It’s just a simulation. This isn’t real, it’s not real. Pressing his back flat against a container, he took a few deep breaths to steady himself. But fear had already sunk its talons
in him.
A growl.
Slowly, Yiran peered out.
Revenants.
Red eyes, gaping black holes for mouths, slithery seaweed-like hair. One moved its head in Yiran’s direction.
His heart skipped erratically. The dummy sword in his hand whirred in response. Was he supposed to channel his magic into
it?
Sensing his hesitation, the Revenant crawled closer.
Yiran shifted back.
Wrong move.
The whole group descended on him at once. Deformed creatures snarling and screeching, gray flesh growing and shrinking in
blobs around their bodies. There was something grotesquely human about them, like body parts made and remade in the devil’s
honor.
They weren’t real. But the fear crawling under Yiran’s skin, the sweat beading across his forehead, the tremor in his legs
as he pushed himself to take a step—that was all real.
Heat fanned out in his veins like a nascent flame. He slashed at the Revenants, but too many were coming at him. The horde of pale, sickly bodies was crushing him. He opened his mouth and let out a scream.
Light burst forth. Bright, fierce, and strong. Yiran stared in shock. The light was coming from him. He couldn’t tell where the crimson glow started and where his weapon ended.
The Revenants flew off, thrown by some force.
But Yiran had no time to feel victorious. His chest seized; his breathing turned ragged. Broken capillaries splotched on his
arms and chest, forming a mottled reddish pattern that made his skin look diseased. Crimson light was still spilling from
his hands like rays of the sun.
“Stop!” someone shouted. It sounded like Rui.
The dummy sword disappeared. The Revenants and the maze vanished. The lights came on.
“Stop!” the voice shouted again.
But Yiran couldn’t stop. Energy radiated from his body. He couldn’t tell if he was breathing in air or fire.
“Yiran! Stop it!”
“I don’t . . . know how,” he rasped. He tried to tell his hands, his body to stop. But they didn’t listen. His insides were
on fire. He was just so hot.
He staggered back, a sudden realization hitting him: if he didn’t find a way to end this, he was going to destroy himself.