Chapter 27.3: The Absinthe Drinker

  THIS IS NOT FINE! I WANNA GO BACK TO THE SANCTUM!

  Not only was Ace’s mind screaming, but also every single cell in his body. His pleas to stop were drowned out by the ear-shattering clangs as metal clashed with metal. Before he could tighten his grip around his sweat-slicked staff, Dante was already out of his field of vision. His ears pricked up the moment he heard a sharp whistle from behind. The soles of his boots squealed against the trampoline floor as he spun around just in time to deflect Dante’s sword. Vibrations shot down his arms, and his muscles seized painfully as he endured every blow.

  Ace gnashed his teeth together, trying to maintain his grip. The last blow proved too much for his puny arms to handle. The staff flew from his hands and clattered at his feet.

  “Pick it up, Ace.”

  “I-I’m done!” Ace collapsed onto his knees and elbows. Sweat poured out from every pore of his body. He took in gulping breaths as he grasped his aching sides.

  “It has only been thirty-two minutes since the start of the lesson.” The floor under Ace became dark as Dante towered over him. It was then that he noticed that Dante had been training him while wearing dress shoes.

  Bloody dress shoes! Ace’s inner voice momentarily became that of a disgruntled Scottish man who was sick of everything. He rolled onto his back and wheezed. Dante’s unsmiling face stared down at him. “Get up. You have to practice your basics again. They are weak,” Dante said plainly.

  “But Felix said they were okay,” Ace griped, trying to stand up for himself and defend Felix’s teaching.

  Dante’s eyes lingered on Ace for a moment, sharp and cold, before he slowly turned his back and continued wiping his blade. “Is Felix your teacher now?” he asked plainly, his voice a low, weighty calm.

  Ace felt a chill run down his spine. Whenever Felix was mentioned, the room would plunge into the heart of a dark thundercloud. He quickly got to his feet, clutching his staff close to his chest. Meanwhile, Dante strode over to the other end of the gymnasium and swapped out his blade for a staff.

  “Centre.” Dante cocked his head, signalling Ace to take his position at the centre of the mat.

  Ace’s stomach churned. He walked meekly, each footfall echoing like a warning he was not sure he could heed.

  “Forward stance,” Dante started, tapping his staff against the floor.

  Ace assumed his stance. “When I say parry, parry properly.” Dante smacked Ace’s staff lightly. “If your staff slips out of your grasp, we restart.”

  “Can I have a short break?” Ace raised his hand, but no higher than his head. “Five minutes?”

  “The Vespa,” Dante said, clearly ignoring his complaints, “has the largest recorded size of 6.9 metres, the height of a 2-storey apartment. Known for its relentless nature and being capable of killing its prey with its stinger. One stab to the chest would seal the kill.”

  Without warning, the end of Dante’s staff shot towards Ace’s chest. Ace let out a yelp, deflecting Dante’s staff in the nick of time. He hunched forward instinctively in an attempt to protect his torso, but was struck thrice in rapid succession on his back instead.

  Angry welts started to form on Ace’s back almost immediately.

  Dante's speed was nothing short of disgusting. Even Felix had the decency to hold back.

  “Another variant of the Vespa is known for having power in numbers. This variant is known for its sadism. You would wish that you were dead at the count of three,” Dante finished his monologue on the Vespa with nothing but boredom.

  Ace bit his lower lip to keep it from wobbling. His face burned, and the back of his eyes stung. Yet, Dante kept pushing him. Back, forward, upper right parry, upper left parry and return. Ace struck as hard and fast as he could, but he could neither catch up with Dante’s speed nor outlast his stamina. The spirit-crushing and body-bruising blows continued until Dante slammed his staff against the floor as he ended the sparring session abruptly. “Disappointing. We will resume class after five minutes.”

  Dante retreated into the equipment room. Ace fell onto his hands and knees. His heart was pounding behind his eyes. Sweat pooled on the floor, dripping from every inch of his skin. The ragged breathing turned into sniffling, and he was no longer sure if the droplets falling onto the mat were just his sweat.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  A shadow loomed over the bright spot Ace had fixated his eyes on. He flopped onto his side, refusing to move. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” he mumbled when he finally caught his breath. “You c-can’t make me.”

  “Ace?"

  Ace’s eyes flew open. It was Felix. He tried to get up, but Felix lay down next to him instead. “Is anything the matter?” Felix asked.

  Ace chewed his lower lip and shook his head. His left arm started to throb, so he put a hand over it. “No bottling up of emotions, didn’t I tell you this?” Felix said.

  Ace’s field of vision started to shake as he felt it bubbling up his throat. It finally boiled over when Ace released a string of expletives that made Felix’s eyes widen a bit. “I only asked for a break!” Ace babbled. He let himself be bratty for a moment. “He could have just said no! I don’t want to continue training under him! All he does is be mean!”

  “It takes time to get used to a new training regime,” Felix sighed.

  “Hmph!” Ace rolled onto his back but hissed as he lay on his bruised back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I got hit there,” Ace said and winced. “Thrice.”

  “Let me see.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Let me see,” Felix insisted, and so Ace got up, pulling up his shirt.

  Ace held up the front of his armour as Felix undid it. “Through the armour?!” Felix asked.

  “Is it that bad?”

  “It would be tender for a bit, that’s for sure.”

  “I would be fine.” Ace merely shrugged his shoulders and gestured for Felix to help him do up the straps and clasps.

  The venting had released the tension in his left arm, but the anger was quickly turning into twinges of guilt for saying all that about Dante. “What am I doing wrong? I tried very hard,” Ace said.

  “Give yourself some time,” Felix said. “You fell behind when you were recovering, and everyone knows that you can't recover overnight.”

  Ace nodded weakly, rolling the staff with his fingers. “How long is your break?” Felix asked.

  “Five minutes.”

  “I’ve been here since the moment it started.” Felix looked at his wristwatch. “It’s been seven minutes.”

  “Good,” Ace said. “Stay here.”

  “Can’t do that.” Felix got to his feet. Ace was about to protest when the door to the equipment room swung open.

  “Why are you here?” Dante asked from afar.

  “To check in on the two of you.”

  “The agreement was–”

  “I know what I agreed to, but I am not here just to check on you guys. I am also here to fetch you for your promotion test,” Felix said and crossed his arms. “Checkmate.”

  “It is not time.”

  “Test’s been brought forward,” Felix said tersely.

  Dante turned to Ace. “I will send you a performance report. I expect you to read it before the next session,” he said. “You are dismissed.”

  Ace stood in his spot, unsure of what to make of the tension between Felix and Dante and the sudden dismissal. His eyes flicked between his teachers. “The door,” Dante said, louder this time, “is open. You are dismissed.”

  ***

  “You’ve been drinking,” Felix said the moment Ace was out of earshot. The unmistakable stench of alcohol hung in the air, sharp and cloying.

  Dante turned to Felix, his cheeks slightly flushed. “The agreement does not include the clause that I cannot do so in moderate amounts.”

  “Fine, I know you have amazing self-control, but could you at least go easy on the kid?”

  “Not questioning my methods is part of the agreement.” Dante was still talking with his back turned towards Felix. “It was merely a litmus test.”

  “To see how much he can tolerate before breaking down?!” Felix raised his arms and let them fall to his sides in incredulity.

  “And to rebuild his stamina,” Dante added.

  “I saw the injuries on his back!”

  “He will heal. Your methods will only raise a generation of complacent squibs.”

  “You are torturing him!”

  The temperature in the room plunged. Felix bit his lip, but the sight of Ace wincing on his back pushed him forward. “Just because you suffered doesn’t mean Ace has to,” Felix said with finality. “Dr. Farid would definitely be on my side on this.”

  Felix felt Dante leave the conversation, even though they were physically sharing the space. Dante’s eyes would no longer move. His head was tilted forward at an angle such that he would still be able to see ahead but not make eye contact with anyone.

  “Where to?” Dante asked monotonously.

  Felix stepped forward and placed a hand on Dante’s shoulder, but he merely rolled it, shrugging it off.

  “Where to?” Dante asked again in the most hollow of voices.