Brutus is jolted awake by a kick to his side.
"Get up, it's time to train," Alistair said. Dropping Brutus's sword on his chest.
He was slow to rise, rubbing his eyes drowsily. Looking out the window, all he saw was darkness.
Brutus got up reluctantly with a sigh. "Do we always have to get up this early?" He protested.
"Don't train if you don't want to," Alistair said flatly.
"I always get up to train in the end, don't I?" Brutus smiled weakly.
Only to get a grunt as a reply.
It had been 2 weeks since Brutus, Alicia, and Alistair slayed the Basilisk, and in those two weeks, Brutus and Alicia got to know what hell is really like.
Hours on hours of gruelling training.
With a scarce amount of rest.
...
After following Alistair for a few minutes, they finally arrived at a flat valley in the dunes.
"2 hours of running and jogging. Go." Alistair commanded mercilessly. He dropped a heavy vest onto the sand.
With a heavy groan, Brutus placed his sword down and slid the vest dropped by Alistair on. The iron blocks dug into his chest; his knees buckled under the pressure. A yelp forced out of him before he could stop it.
'I'll... never get used to that.'
"Don't mope around and get to running." He ordered once again.
"Yes...sir." Brutus barely managed to say.
He then planted his foot in front of the other, feeling it dig into the sand. Then his next, feeling the same, and the next until Brutus was at a jogging pace.
"Faster!" Alistair demanded. Forcing Brutus to swing his already screaming legs quicker
His every step sent a shockwave through his legs up to rattle his bones.
He continued to alternate between running and jogging in 1-minute intervals. For 2 hours, His lungs straining to pull in each breath, and his legs so sore they barely felt like his anymore..
By the end of the 2 hours, Brutus wobbled over to where Alistair was standing... and promptly fell to the ground, greedily sucking in air.
Alistair stood over him. "We're leaving in 10 minutes. Get as much rest as you can."
Brutus, lying on his back, stared at the now violet and orange sky. After 10 minutes had passed, he did as told and crawled off the sand onto his knees and then to his feet. Sand falling out of his hair.
"Okay... let's go..." Brutus muttered between gasps.
Then, Alistair and Brutus headed toward the top of the highest-reaching dune in the area. The massive mound of sand nearly scratched the long, stringy purple clouds swimming through the sky. Brutus admired their beauty, enjoying the only pleasant part about the Wild-Lands, its sky.
Brutus lugged his sword behind him, together with the vest still on his chest.
"Why do I even need to drag my sword around if I don't use it?" Brutus pestered.
"You can't be a swordsman without your sword."
Brutus understood the memo, but still, he found no joy in it. He pulled the sword from his hip, its tip parting the sand to create a miniature canyon, tracing the path he took.
They finally reached the summit, and Brutus began the next part of his merciless training.
Pain tolerance.
At the top of the dune, Brutus saw Alicia. She was in a squat, striking a metal beam thrust deep into the sand with her fists, shins, and elbows. She was wearing similar clothes to his, a simple short-sleeved beige shirt, black pants, and a pair of boots. Nonetheless, it was a sight to behold-
"Get to striking." Alistair interrupted the thought with a kick to the back.
Returning to the sand, Brutus rubbed his lower back and glared at the Warden.
"Yessir..." He replied.
Feeling the Warden's gaze burning his back, he hurried his movements.
With a huff, Brutus climbed onto his legs and squatted down in front of the metal beam next to Alicia.
And began to strike.
Each one produced a metallic hum that vibrated through the sand.
The pain started slowly, just a mild ache in his knuckles, shins, and elbows. But each strike added a drop of pain into the bucket, until after 30 minutes of striking, the bucket was overflowing. His knuckles screamed, his shins begged, and his thighs trembled like they were fraying apart with every second.
"How... much longer of this master...?" Brutus growled through gritted teeth.
"Until one of you drops." He replied flatly.
Hearing that, Brutus looked at Alicia, who hadn't even shown a shred of discomfort.
'This... will take a while,' He knew.
...
Another half hour had passed. And Brutus's legs were on the verge of giving out; numbness spreading like frost.
'No...!'
Brutus tried to push his legs more just for a little longer, even for a second, but time had run out. His legs gave in to the pressure. Brutus collapsed to a knee, then the other, and the ground caught him before he could stop it.
"Ugh!" Escaping his shaky lips.
He felt the sand under him resonate with a metallic hum. He looked up at Alicia, shaking, breathless, and barely standing herself, but a small, brittle smile of triumph crept across her lips as she continued to strike at the beam.
Seeing that, Brutus couldn't allow himself to fall behind. He forced a roar through clenched teeth as he pushed himself up with trembling arms, his nerves hissing. But he got back up into the squat and hammered his fists into the metal spike.
...
Another half-hour had passed, and the two were still striking, each hit being fueled by their determination and grit.
"Alright. That's enough. "
Hearing that, they slumped into the sand, barely upright. Both of their chests rising and falling rapidly.
"Five-minute break and onto the final section." The two groaned at the thought of the final exercise.
Footwork.
Five minutes vanished in a blink. Their hearts still hammered, and the burn didn't fade; it settled deeper.
"Get up." Brought their minds back to the hell they were in.
The two forced themselves upright in one shaky motion, Alicia getting up a split second faster than Brutus.
Alistair turned to Alicia, "You will be practising the ghost step, again." He swivelled his head to Brutus, "And you... will be sprinting downhill, again." Pivoting around, he started to leave with Alicia.
"Come on, lemme learn that cool quick step she's learning!" Brutus called out.
Keeping his back toward him, "You can learn it if you don't eat sand more than 15 times before the end of today." He said lowly.
"Hah! That's a piece of cake." He remarked.
"Didn't you fall like 25 times yesterday?" Alicia teased.
"...Shut up! I'll definitely beat this stupid hill today!"
"I wish you luck then! While I personally learn the ghost step from the Bone Warden himself." She boasted.
"Both of you... Shut up."Alistair's voice said in a threatening tone.
Prompting the two to keep their thoughts to themselves swiftly. Brutus stood at the top of the dune, looking downwards as Alistair and Alicia slowly descended.
'I'll definitely keep it under 15 today...' He promised himself.
Brutus folded his joints to form a type of crouch start. He hung his body over the edge of the mound, looking down its almost sheer drop, a drop of uncertainty almost making its way into him.
'under 15...'
He tensed his muscles and flung his body over the edge, sending him into an almost free fall. The sensation of weightlessness allowed his feet to barely tap the sand and keep him upright.
'Ok... this is feeling better than yesterday. It'll be a breeze today.'
But as he thought that, a tiny shift in the sand sent his foot sliding a hair's breadth sideways.
That was all it took.
Brutus was launched into the slope.
He slammed into the sand, air crushed from his lungs, and immediately tumbled, shoulder over hip over skull, bouncing like a ragdoll.
Then his face planted.
Sand blasted into his mouth, teeth, gums, everything — dry, grainy, burnt-orange powder choking him as he skidded the rest of the way down like a dropped sack of flour.
Spitting out the sand at the bottom, he looked up.
Alistair had turned to face him, watching his downfall, with the enthusiasm of someone watching a bug crawl.
He didn't say a word, just raised a single finger.
Brutus groaned. "...One"