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“You always close your eyes at the most crucial moment, corporal.”
Enkrid gritted his teeth, instinctively bracing for the impact. An axe’s blade halted to a stop mere inches away from his throat. A faint ting of coppery smell hit his nose—blood. Blood on the hunter’s blade, embedded deep into the steel itself, bled from both animals and humans alike—from which side, he couldn't tell.
He forced his eyes open, meeting his own gaze reflected from the pristine blade. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his neck. Rem retracted the axe before it could hit his weapon.
Shifting his eyes back to the other man, Enkrid told him: “Again.”
Without a word, the hunter arched his arm back. A wide swing aimed for the exact same place as before.
Enkrid saw it from miles away, he really did. He saw how the blade shifted as Rem brought it slightly behind his head in a wide arc, saw how the muscles in his arms contracted as it prepared to swing the axe forward to his neck. Enkrid had his eyes fixed on the movement of it all.
Then Rem moved. The axe moved. Closer. Closer. Way too close to his face.
Then came a gush of wind grazing the hair on his nape. In his ear rang a sharp sing of steel cutting through the air, stopping right under his jaw.
Just before it hit him, the blade disappeared behind the darkness of his own eyelids.
Again.
Enkrid snapped his eyes open, meeting the same ol’ blues greeting him from the reflection of the blade. His eyes trailed along the axe handle, and the person from the opposite end didn't seem pleased with the result.
But it didn't displease him. It was the opposite, in fact. Because Enkrid almost saw it just now. Just a few seconds more, he was sure he could do it. He was getting closer. Next time, next time he’d make it work.
“Again.”
“Gah, aren't you tired at all, corporal?” Rem scratched the back of his neck, a few stray grey hairs falling off his tight braids. “It’s almost meal time.”
Enkrid glanced over. The sun was nearly reaching her peak above their head.
“Almost,” he echoed, shifting his gaze back to the grey-haired man, “but not yet, isn't it?”
Enkrid resumed his stance: feet a shoulder-width apart, hands in loose fits by his hips. “Again. I almost got it just now.”
“Yeah, sure, sure you do,” the hunter rolled his shoulder, more annoyed than actually tired despite swinging it for the whole morning. Sheen of sweat made the loose hair stick to the bare skin on his broad shoulders, almost glistering under the harsh sunlight.
Enkrid gave him a nod, a quiet appreciation to support his words, “Thank—”
“Think fast!”
Whoose!
Enkrid snapped his eyes open. The axe was now under his chin.
He gulped. Counting the times he had died if this was an actual fight.
“There, you have it.”
Rem yawned, throwing his axe up before catching it as it fell back down. And with it in a loose grip by his side, the hunter took a step to the side, heading towards the exit of the training ground.
But that wouldn't do.
Enkrid slid his right foot to the side, blocking the way. His eyes locked on the quite bored and sleepy ashen grey pairs.
“Again. Hit me one more time.”
“Oh, come on, corporal.” Rem’s exasperated groans were betrayed by his hands, by the way he already had the axe back at ready. “One last time, alright?”
Enkrid nodded. Shifting back to his feet.
But then, instead of a quick swing at his neck, Rem smirked. “But this time, sir, I’m hitting you for real. No more stopping, a’right?”
Again, he nodded. Training was better when imitating a real fight. “Sure.”
“Ready?”
Another short nod from him, then Rem’s arm moved. This time, the trajectory was lower, his flank, perhaps, or even his hip. A predictable move for him to follow.
Thud.
It was his arm.
Enkrid’s eyes snapped open as pain shot up his left arm. The cheek of the axe against the pad on his shoulder shouldn't hurt this much, but Rem’s raw strength wasn't to be taken lightly.
As he recoiled from the impact, Rem was already on the move.
“Eyes ahead!”
Rem didn't use his other hand, not even his legs. He simply twisted the same hand with the axe, redirected it instead to Enkrid’s other thigh.
He jumped back a step, then pulled up his own sword to parry the next blow to his face. Steel on steel created a quick screeching sound as they pulled away.
“To your right, corporal!” The hunter was already back on the move. The blade of his own sword grazed the skin on his shoulder as he lifted it to block the axe aimed at his head.
And Enkrid couldn't keep his eyes open, again.
“Now, left!”
Another close call to his left thigh. Then his left shoulder. Stomach. Right knee.
Enkrid could barely keep up. Just fast enough to block, but not enough to regain an offensive stance.
Then the attack came. The axe flying straight to his face. A wide arc. A predictable move.
Don't blink.
Don't blink. Don't blink. Don't blink!
But alast, as it was about to lodge deep in his skull, Enkrid’s eyes snapped shut.
Again.
With his eyes still squeezed shut, his lips were ready to move, demanding another one—
“Ouff!”
Enkrid was expecting the feeling of steel stopping a hair width away—a gush of wind on his face, a whisper of death filling his ears, the stinking smell of old blood in the hunter’s blade. But instead, this time, Enkrid had his eyes fly open to his own body titling off the training ground. With a palm clamping hard on his lower face, pushing his whole body back and off his feet. The training ground tilted, then replaced by a blindingly bright sun with a toned arm holding him down by his face.
Thud!
Clank!
Dull pain shot up his back, and above him, the sun was completely blocked by curtains of grey hair framing a slightly annoyed grin on Rem’s face. The hand still tightly held onto his sword lay uselessly under the hunter’s boot.
He was trapped.
“See? This is where closing your eyes gets you, corporal,” said he, leaning in closer. “In those seconds, your enemies can do whatever they want to you. Anything.”
Enkrid saw his own reflection in Rem’s eyes. And as if reading his thoughts, the outlander backed away.
“Let's call it a day, shall we? I’m starving.”
With that, Rem made his way out of the training ground, leaving no room for objection. He just noticed the aroma of food from a distance filling the space. It’d be their last meal before entering the battlefield.
It was already his fifth time reliving ‘today.’
His fifth time failing to master Beast Heart. His fifth time being thrown onto the training ground. Still—despite knowing death couldn’t claim him—Enkrid couldn’t keep his eyes open in the critical moment.
But that didn’t matter. Today, he’d trained harder, again and again and again. He’d trained until he could do
it. He swore he’d be better, stronger. Eventually, he would make it out alive. He would surmount this wall.
All within today.