Hell began today. First, in Light Weapons, we paired up to fight with staffs as a basic training tool. It wouldn't have been a problem except that almost everyone who takes Light weapons is either speed or endurance aligned, meaning I got the crap beat out of me by shrimpy kids that moved so fast that they were hard to see. In Medium Weapons, the heavier training swords slowed down the small kids, but the strength aligned guys hit hard. I wasn't being hit as often, but the hits did some real damage. I stumbled out of the class carrying some serious bruises. But when I walked into heavy weapons, I about shit my pants. Those guys were huge! I was easily the smallest guy in the room, and the grins on the other guys faces told me that this was not going to be fun. For not being trained, those guys were strong enough to hand it to me with almost no trouble. Even though they were padded, the practice war hammers did everything but break bones. Dodging only worked for so long, and those guys were strong enough to just deflect my swings. Stamina didn't help any. Running four miles and then concentrating on a fly was not my kind of fun. Then we did 1,000 sit-ups and practiced releasing adrenaline and other chemicals.
I crawled into Long's room, not sure what to expect. A small Asian man stood in the center of the room. He was compact, built like a fighter,with a surprising amount of muscle packed onto his lean frame. Once I had entered, he turned to me with a smile.
"Hello, Bellerophon."
"Hello proffessor."
"I bet you are wondering why you aren't scheduled for this class?"
"Yeah, I wasn't sure as to why the note was disguised, but not to any flesh mages."
"You have been chosen to enter the Death Fist."
I felt the color leave my face.
"What's the Death Fist?"
"It is both a martial art and a group that operates in this school. The most skilled fighter in the Advanced Martial Arts class is asked to enter. You have been chosen based on other skills you possess. Since you haven't gone through the classes and Death Fist doesn't meet until second semester, you will be training with me until then."
"What skills do I possess that make me desired for this group?"
"You will start to understand tomorrow morning."
"Oh."
"Why don't we begin?"
And so for the rest of the hour we trained. Proffessor Long taught me quite a bit for one period, and I felt like I retained most of it. And although we did strenuous work, I didn't feel tired by it at all. I felt better in First Aid, and I actually healed some of my bruises. Creation made me want to vomit, but was utterly cool at the same time. We began to construct our first creature, and at first I was overwhelmed. I had decided to make a shadow wolf, and even though it was only a medium-class construct, I had to work my hardest to keep up with those doing easier projects. The shadow wolf is the same general shape as a wolf, except it is about five feet at the shoulder and extremely muscular. Mine had black and brown hair, large fangs, and red eyes with yellow irises and black pupils. Even working at high speed, I was only half finished at the end of class. Summoning was interesting, but the teacher creeped me out. He was short and greasy looking, and was unclean in both hygiene and language. Ranged weapons was the probably the most fun thing I've ever done. It seemed like all we did is throw and shoot stuff at targets. It seemed that I carried my namesakes skill with the bow. Screwing around throwing knives at cutouts with the seniors was something that I looked forward to doing for the rest of the year.
When I finally got back to my room, I realized how tired I was.
I hope tomorrow is better, but I'll probably be so sore that it will be horrible.