My arms, once soft from a life of keyboards and commutes, now carried the memory of a thousand swings in their corded muscle. The claymore that monstrous slab of mithral that had nearly broken me now felt like an extension of my own skeleton. Lighter. Obedient.
It was terrifying how my body had accepted this new truth. Back in Brooklyn, I was the guy picked last for everything. Here, it was as if my cells had been waiting for the grind of stone, the weight of steel, the taste of real fear.
The sun was already peeking through the canopy when I crawled from the tent. Draka was by the fire, but his usual grim stillness was gone. He moved with a jarring, restless energy.
"Boy. Eat," he announced, his voice too bright, like a blade freshly sharpened.
I shuffled over, stifling a yawn. "Morning. You sound… cheerful. What's the occasion?"
He turned. All false warmth vanished, replaced by a graveness that made my stomach clench. "Your final test. Before I teach you skill, you must prove you can bear the cost." He called it an entrance exam. His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. "For the path of the Berserker. It is the most dangerous lesson. Not a spar. A trial."
I simply nodded. Words felt too small. "So, after breakfast?"
"Yes."
He said nothing more. I ate in silence, my claymore resting against my leg. Its presence was a comfort and an accusation. I'd killed with it. I'd lost myself with it. It was a part of me now, more than my own shadow.
I caught Draka's profile as I returned to the tent. He sat on his mossy rock, facing away, a sentinel carved from old scars and harder lessons. His own steel sword lay beside him, a simpler, deadlier thing. I didn't ask for blessings. I slept.
---
I woke to absolute black.
Not the gentle dark of night, but a thick, suffocating nothing. "The hell?" I whispered, the sound swallowed whole. My hand found the claymore's hilt. The familiar grip was the only real thing in the void.
So this is the test.
I stood. As my eyes adjusted, a world resolved from the gloom. This was no forest. The trees were pillars of jet, the grass a sickly grey carpet. The air hung heavy and silent, smelling of wet iron and forgotten soil. A deep, primal wrongness twisted in my gut.
Then—
"HRAAH—HRAAH—HRAAH!"
The sound ripped through the silence. I spun, grip tightening until the leather creaked. Above me, in the skeletal branches, shapes moved.
Chimps. But wrong. Hairless, their skin a mottled grey, stretched over grotesque, muscular frames. Their snouts elongated into canine muzzles, and from them, rows of needle-teeth glistened. But it was their eyes that froze my blood pools of liquid, glowing crimson, fixed on me with intelligent hunger.
"HRAAH—HRAAH—HRAAH!" The chorus echoed, a promise of violence. They bounced on the branches, a frenzy of anticipation.
One dropped.
It fell like a stone, limbs splayed, maw gaping. Instinct took over. I didn't think. I swung.
The claymore met it mid-air with a wet thwack. It crumpled to the grey grass, clutching a ruined stomach, its shrieks dying to wet gurgles.
Two more descended, flanking me. A two-handed swing. A second of resistance, then a sickeningly light feeling as the blade passed through. Two hairy heads tumbled. The bodies spasmed.
I blinked. Two more had vanished from the branches.
A searing, white-hot agony exploded in my ankle. I looked down. One had me, its jaws locked deep. Before I could react, weight slammed onto my shoulders, claws digging into my forearms. Another latched onto my left, a living, shrieking shackle.
Panic surged, hot and metallic. Then it hardened into something colder.
I looked at the chimp on my left, its red eyes inches from mine, its hot, rancid breath on my face.
"You like biting, don't you?!"
I lunged forward and sank my teeth into its rubbery snout.
It screeched, a sound of pure shock. I bit down harder, tasting foul blood and gristle, feeling a horrible crunch. I wrenched my head back. The creature fell away, writhing and spraying black blood. I stomped down on the one at my ankle. A satisfying crack silenced its snarl.
I grabbed the chimp on my right and slammed its skull into the hard ground. Once. Twice. It went limp. I ended the last one gripping my arm with a swift, brutal stab.
I raised my claymore, heaving breaths burning my lungs. Only three left.
They came not with screeches, but in eerie silence. A coordinated assault. Three sets of powerful legs kicked into my stomach simultaneously. The air blasted from my lungs. I hit the ground, the world spinning.
Weight piled on. Teeth—those razor-sharp teeth—found my forearm and clamped down.
Pain, pure and absolute, devoured all thought. My scream was a strangled gasp. I could feel the grind of tooth on bone. My vision tunneled. Through the red haze, I saw my claymore, just out of reach.
No. Not like this.
My free hand scrambled, fingers brushing the cold mithral. The chimps' shrieks melted into a single, ringing hum. A familiar fire ignited in my core—not pain, but power. A roaring, mindless command drowned out everything else:
KILL.
My fingers closed around the hilt.
Then… nothing.
A vast, silent, and absolute blank.
My eyes flutter open, in a slow calmer way. I see yellow light,"where am I?" I mutter, my jaw hard and tired, making it hard to speak. My body feeling tired, I can't even move my head. I use my strength to turn and see the my claymore leaning against the wall. Still bloodied, bringing back the memory of my fight with the apes. The fact a pack of monkeys are capable of do this much on me, its shocking. I suddenly hear footsteps, getting louder and louder. Shit....
I then hear a soft voice," you're awake. Good. It's been 2 days since that incident." I look up to see a woman, she looks my age, ginger hair, green eyes and freckles. "I thought you died after you went berserk. I moved away from me and walks to the other side if the cave," go to sleep, your clearly went berserko mode so go to sleep." Her voice less caring and more dismissive.
My eyes fluttered open, slow and heavy.