The training wing was empty when I stepped inside. Most of the rooms are alive with activity with students, sparring, crackling Flux and the constant rhythmic thud of training dummies being pummeled into oblivion was heard. But the room I'm headed for is dead quiet.
The agility training room.
Nobody likes this place. Not in the game, not in real life. It's the kind of room that looks harmless from the outside with clean, wide space, walls reinforced with translucent resistance glass but every student knows better. This place eats egos and spits them out.
In Masquerade of Dreams: Shattered, this was where players adjusted to combat. A tutorial, they called it. It was a cute word for what was basically a torture chamber. Tap left, swipe right, watch your heroine leap and roll while arrows and bowling balls came flying in, simple, right? On a phone, sure. On PC, even easier. You just click, dodge, maybe laugh at the bad physics.
But this isn't screen time anymore. This is real time. And if I screw up, it's not a "try again" button waiting for me. It's back to the hospital.
I stepped inside. The door sealed itself shut with a hiss and for a moment the silence pressed against my ears. Students were already gathering on the other side of the windows, whispering to each other, their eyes darting between me and the empty room.
The opposite wall flickered, phasing into transparency. The voice of the training system echoed.
"Stage One, Bowling Ball Challenge. Begin."
Six panels slid open in the walls. Dark, round shapes gleamed in the low light.
The first bowling ball launches straight at my face at a speed that has no business existing in a "tutorial."
Instinct took over. I tilt my head, just barely missing it. The ball slammed into the far wall with the crack of thunder, bouncing to the ground with a weighty boom. These are not props.
And then the real fun started.
Another ball came out and another. My body moved on instinct to sidestep, pivot, duck and roll. Years of martial arts and muscle memory came over me, my footwork sharpening with each step. At first, I was chasing the rhythm. By the fifth ball, I was already ahead of it.
Every dodge became smoother. I could feel myself syncing with the difference between clumsy human reactions and my new self. A ball came towards me. I leapt. It smashed itself onto the far wall.
In the polished glass on the far wall, my reflection isn't just one.
It's three.
Blackened afterimages were through the room in the trails of my movements. Each dodge and shift left a fading shadow of me. It's eerie, like the room's filled with phantoms. I almost laughed from seeing this. In the game, this would be the part where the system gives me a shiny "Perfect!" message in gold font. Instead, all I get is the sound of my own breath and the pounding of my heart.
The last ball crashed to the floor, rolling harmlessly to a stop. The voice spoke again.
"Stage One complete. Proceeding to Stage Two: Arrow Challenge."
Panels above me start shifting with gears grinding and narrow slits slide open. I already know what's coming. I used to laugh at this stage on my phone, swiping left and right while a storm of arrows rained down on the poor heroine. But standing here, craning my neck at the dark mouths of those slits, I felt the first trickle of unease. Because in the game, the arrows were pixels. In here, they're steel.
I rolled my shoulders, relaxed my breathing, and positioned myself.
"Alright. Let's see how good my luck really is."
The voice cut through the silence:
"Stage Two: Arrow Challenge. Begin."
The first arrow is aimed clean for my head. My hand snapped up. My fingers closed around the shaft with a crack that reverberates up my arm. The world went silent for half a heartbeat before the room decides to kill me.
Seven arrows release at once, screaming from every direction like angry hornets.
The black haze of my afterimages exploded across the room. One arrow slices just past my cheek. Another grazed the air above my shoulder. They came at seven every second. I flipped the arrow in my hand, my grip tightening on the shaft. The next arrow streaks in and I swung it. Wood smacks steel with a metallic ring and the arrow ricocheted harmlessly to the side. Another arrow was shot and I deflected it away.
Using an arrow to parry other arrows is something I never expected to do. My arms felt like tearing from their sockets. My wrists were buzzing with impact. Every strike rattled my bones but I kept going. The haze around me grows thicker. I don't even remember how to breathe anymore, only that every breath felt too shallow. I forced my body harder. Each dodge is a stumble into the next. My vision started to blur.
Mercifully, the training ends. One last arrow whistled down, missing me by inches, embedding itself into the reinforced floor with a solid thunk.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I collapsed to my knees, the captured arrow falling from my fingers. Sweat was dripping in thick rivulets down my face, soaking into my shirt. I tipped my head back and let out a harsh, shuddering laugh.
"That… was insane."
The voice cuts in with a mechanical and merciless tome:
"Stage Two complete. Proceeding to Stage Three: Hell Stage. Confirm?"
I glared at the ceiling like it's mocking me. I can barely lift the damn arrow I've been using and you're telling me about stage three?
"Hell no! Not today! I'm not suicidal!"
"Training sequence terminated."
The slits sealed themselves shut.
I slumped to the floor fully, letting the cold surface soak up the heat pouring from my body. Every muscle I had was in pain but I couldn't help the smirk that crawls across my face.
"I actually did Stage Two… in real life."
The crowd outside the glass hasn't left. Their faces were plastered in shock, awe, maybe even fear. They were whispering furiously, some pointing at me, some clutching each other like they could not believe what they just saw. I closed my eyes and laugh again, softer this time.
I'm going to be late for lessons...