“Rui is still recovering,” Ada said, looking worried, “and we’re not supposed to use the Simulator without a trainer here.”
“I’ve worked the machine dozens of times,” said Mai. “It’ll be fine.”
“It’s okay, Ada. Mai knows the programs,” Rui said. Rolling her shoulders, she lifted her chin at Yiran. “I’m done stretching and warming up anyway. I’ll take him.”
Yiran had a bad feeling about this, but it was too late to back out now. His pride was on the line.Go big or go home.He put his mocha frappé down and moved to the middle of the room. Everyone else but Rui and Mai went to the bench on the side.
Mai typed a string of rapid commands on the control panel. Spinning around, she grinned widely.
“Welcome to the Simulator.”
For a split second, the place seemed to contract.
Then it heaved and burst into sunlight. Tall rock formations littered the landscape. The floor was dirt and sand. The ceiling, blue sky.
A desert. They were in a freakingdesert.
Yiran whistled. It was impressive. Ash had told him about the Simulator, but seeing it with his own eyes was a whole different thing.
“Isn’t it cool?” Rui said, her eyes suddenly round and shiny like marbles. “Everything’s fake, but the program tricks your brain into thinking it’s real.”
Yiran sensed that this place was somehow comforting for her. How many hours had she logged in this training facility? She didn’t strike Yiran as someone with a social life.
The ground rumbled suddenly. A butte shot up, shaking sand all over him. He stumbled and came close to face-planting. He caught his balance in time, but the sand bit into his palms like greedy insects. Small pinhole-sized wells of blood formed on his skin.
Yiran wiped his stinging palms on his pants. Blood stained the corner of his untucked shirt.It’s fake, he reminded himself. But it was still unsettling.
Unbuttoning his cuffs, he started rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. “Sure wish I was wearing something more appropriate for sparring.”
Rui smirked. “Pants too tight? Feel free to take them off. You can do this shirtless too; we don’t mind.”
Laughter came from outside the simulation. The other cadets must be watching them, but Yiran couldn’t see them at all. Refusing to take Rui’s bait, he folded his sleeves nonchalantly and stretched his legs. He wasn’t too worried. The reason why he wasn’tcaptainof the fencing team was because he’d lost a frivolous bet involving a frog. He knew his way around a foil, and he was sure he could adapt to the dummy swords. Hell, he’d already killed his first Revenant. He bit back a smile, knowing that Rui would take his confidence as a sign to make things harder for him.
Two swords appeared in the air.
Rui plucked one and gave it a twirl. “All right, try to disarm me.”
“Okay—”
Her blade was at his clavicle before he could twitch a finger. Yiran felt its chilly edge testing his skin. Someone in the audience gave a hoot of approval.
“Shouldn’t you wait until I’ve armed myself?” he said.
“Would a Revenant wait to attack you?”
“Touché.”
Rui lowered her blade, and Yiran grabbed the other sword. It felt right in his hand, not quite like how he’d felt when he used Rui’s sword after the magic swap, but close. Ash had said the Simulator’s programs weredynamically adaptive. Was this what he meant?
Rui leaped back, positioning herself for attack. “Ready?”
Yiran had barely any time to inhale before she lunged at him.
She was fast. Lithe and graceful like a deadly dancer who knew a dozen different ways to cut you up. Her moves were unexpected. He could tell she worked more by intuition than technique. If the spell had taken away her magic, it’d done nothing to lessen her martial arts skills.
Yiran parried her attacks, but Rui managed to hit him again and again. He’d trained for years, but fencing had structure and rules. It had etiquette. Right now, none of that mattered. There was no priority to consider. No waiting, no politeness. Just a girl coming at him with a killer instinct and no hesitation. If Rui wanted to hurt him, his shirt would be in shreds and his body carved with wounds.
The ground was another issue. Whenever he fell or braced himself, gravel and coarse sand cut into his skin. Pain signals flooded his brain. It wasn’t real, but itfeltreal, and that made all the difference. He didn’t like the Simulator. Didn’t like things that messed with his mind. But he was developing a grudging respect for whoever had invented it.
