Cartlidge: Rise of the Imperfect Flame by Devon Loos Page A

his balance. This was my chance. I
let go of his arm and delivered my best left hook. The blow struck his face,
sending his body spiraling backwards. The force was too great for the
simulation, and Walker fazed through several undamaged trees before finally
crashing into the far arena wall. He stuck for a moment, then crashed to the ground like a large ragdoll. The room went deathly silent. Not
even the commander spoke to verify that the match was over. The arena returned
to its normal state, and several medical officers came in to carry off the
broken Walker. Terror filled me. I wondered if I had killed him.

[Chapter 6: Our
Powers]
    Shortly after removing Walker from the arena, the medical
officers came back to take me to the infirmary as well. I did not have any
serious injuries, but the officers wanted to be sure. My body became numb with
every other step so I allowed them to take me to the medical room. I spent the
night there, thinking about what had transpired while they injected unknown
chemicals into my legs. What would happen next? Was I to be punished? Banned from
the warrior program? And what of Walker? Did I truly
take another life because I lacked control? Eventually the questions forced me
to ask. Much to my relief, however, Walker had survived.
    By the next morning I was allowed to visit. Walker had
several tubes connected to his body, each pumping strangely colored fluids. The
tubes connected to large machines, which were maintained by two doctors. Most
of his body was held in place by restraints, though his head was given more
freedom. The side of his face had a darkened bruise from my final blow in the
arena.
    “Ah! Well if it isn’t the victor! Come to see your
handiwork? Hey, if you ever find yourself in these things, don’t let them reset
your jaw manually. It hurts like sevhevokilktev !” He
laughed and then cursed himself for moving too much.
    “I’m really sorry sir, I-”
    “Don’t be sorry, and don’t call me sir. I’m not a commander
yet. You won fair and square, and as far as I can tell I’m not dead. There’s no
reason to hold a grudge for that. Heck, I should thank you.”
    “Thank me?”
    “Yeah, thank you! I haven’t had that good of a fight since I
was ten, and that was because it was three to one and I didn’t know how to
fight yet.” He tried laughing again, though it quickly turned into a spastic
cough.
    “Hey you need to get out of here or you’ll miss your first
day of specialization training. You won’t pass without it.”
    “Wait, you mean .. I passed?”
    “Of course you passed! You won the fight didn’t you? Now if
you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pass out.” Instantly Walker was asleep, much to
the relief of the doctors. A sense of shock swept over me but I quickly
recovered. I turned around and darted to the main theatre where we were
supposed to gather. The main theatre was normally used for only three purposes.
The first, today, was specialization day. We would be separated by our talents,
physical attributes, and fighting styles into various groups for specific tasks
in combat. Each squad had its own commander, support, and medical officer. It
was also quite common for each group to have a pair of scouts for
reconnaissance. Then there were much rarer classes who would join into the
squad, sometimes taking control for their own assignments. A common example was
the King or Queen, though control was only given if said warrior was of a
fitting rank. The second time we would gather in the main theatre would be in
preparation for our final test, and the final, more coveted, use was for
graduation. Only half the people now gathered here would be able to reach that
day this year. The commander made his way to the stage, then calmly waited for silence to fill the room. Finally he spoke. My Rovanekren was
still in need of improvement, though I could understand the majority of his
speech.
    “Congratulations, young bloods, on surmounting the first
test of the