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Several days passed, each one painfully similar to the last. Every day, I faced the same grim task of scavenging for scraps of food that tasted so terrible they felt like punishment. The remnants of the gods we'd defeated lay scattered around the cave like discarded trophies, and my only job was to gather their flesh and blood for Ryan. Each piece I collected was a reminder of the brutality we had endured together, yet it felt wrong to treat them as mere resources.
One afternoon, while I was struggling with this relentless routine, Ryan turned to me suddenly, his expression as flat as the stone floor beneath our feet. "You're not very useful," he stated, his gaze steady and unyielding.
His words cut deep, like a dagger to my heart. I was only trying to help; I was fighting for my survival. Did he not see that I was giving everything I had just to keep up with him? Before I could muster a response, he added something that completely caught me off guard. "I'll teach you how to fight."
My heart leaped at the thought. Was he serious? Could he truly see potential in me? The idea that he might actually invest time in my training ignited a spark of hope within me. *I will get stronger,* I promised myself. *I'll become more useful to Ryan… to the one from the prophecy.*
"Really? When will you start teaching me?" I asked, my voice trembling with excitement.
"Now," he replied, as cool as ever, his tone devoid of any warmth.
"Wait, right now?" I stammered, glancing nervously at the messy pile of blood and flesh I'd been gathering. "But I'm still in the middle of collecting—"
Before I could finish, Ryan closed the distance between us in a heartbeat, drawing his sword. My heart skipped a beat as I watched him raise it. I barely had time to react before he swung down, the blade arcing through the air with deadly precision. I braced myself for the painful slash, but instead of the sharp pain I anticipated, I felt a blunt impact. He was hitting me with the scabbard—the sheath of his sword!
And then he struck again, and again. Each blow landed with a dull thud, leaving me breathless and aching. He moved with such fluidity, his strikes coming from all directions, leaving no room for me to defend myself. I tried to dodge, but he anticipated my every move, delivering more blows before I could even think of countering.
The sensation of being hit repeatedly was humiliating. I couldn't fight back; all I could do was endure, gritting my teeth and biting back yelps of pain as bruises blossomed all over my arms, legs, and back. It felt like he was deliberately targeting every exposed part of me, leaving no spot unscathed.
After what felt like an eternity of this one-sided assault, I gasped for air, my body sore and battered. Finally, I managed to choke out, "Weren't you supposed to be teaching me? All you're doing is beating me up!"
Ryan looked down at me, his expression impassive as always. "The best teacher is pain," he replied, his voice devoid of sympathy.
I didn't know whether to be inspired or terrified. *What a profound statement,* I thought, rubbing my sore shoulder. *But it's also deeply unsettling.*
Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I couldn't hold back my anger. "You're just trying to beat me up, aren't you?" I blurted out, the words escaping before I could think them through.
For a moment, he stared at me in silence, as if weighing my accusation. Then, unexpectedly, he tilted his head slightly, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes. It was the closest thing I'd seen to an actual expression since we'd met. A chill ran down my spine as I realized he wasn't denying it.
In that moment, a thought flashed through my mind, and I couldn't stop myself from silently pleading, *Mother, this isn't the child of prophecy. He's a demon in disguise.*
As I lay there, catching my breath, I glanced up at the cave ceiling. It seemed like the only thing that understood my suffering. Raising my thumb weakly in a pathetic gesture of resilience, I whispered to myself, "I'll endure this…"
But the moment was fleeting, and a wave of homesickness crashed over me like a cold tide. I missed my mother, her comforting presence, and her gentle words. My eyes watered slightly, and I murmured, "I miss you, Mom…" I wished I could be back home, safe in her embrace, far away from this hellish existence.
Then Ryan's voice broke through my reverie. "If you want to survive, you have to learn to fight," he said, his tone shifting to a more serious note. "Pain is part of the process."
"Yeah, well, couldn't you teach me without the beatings?" I shot back, a half-hearted grin creeping onto my face. "I'd prefer a nice, cozy lecture instead of a violent wake-up call."
He regarded me with that inscrutable expression, and for a moment, I thought I caught a hint of a smirk before he turned away. "You'll thank me later," he said, returning to his earlier stoicism.
Despite my pain and frustration, I couldn't help but feel a sense of determination rising within me. Maybe this grueling training would somehow prepare me for whatever lay ahead. If Ryan truly believed I could become stronger, then I had to try. I couldn't allow myself to fall behind, especially if my fate was tied to his.
As I lay there, surrounded by the echoes of our earlier battles, I realized that perhaps I was more resilient than I thought. With a deep breath, I nodded resolutely. "Alright, let's do this. Just… maybe go a little easier on me next time?"
Ryan glanced back at me, a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes. "I'll consider it."
As we prepared for the next round of training, I couldn't shake the feeling that, despite everything, I was beginning to forge a bond with this enigmatic boy. We were both shaped by our circumstances, but together, perhaps we could carve a path to a brighter future.
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