by Leon Logos
Serenity yawned, lazily listening to Desmos as he gave them an overview of their training schedule for today, not too far out into the woods. She was so tired that she didn’t even react when Desmos told them they were going to leopard crawl (along a 20-meter-long path littered with jagged rocks). This exercise was, of course, barbarous and spec-ops caliber and painfully resulted in cuts all over the body. What was worse, Desmos timed them, and if they didn’t complete the crawl in under 60 seconds, he’d make them do it again. As much as she hated the training Desmos made them do, she had to admit it was better than Gunther’s. When they were younger, Gunther personally trained them; he was a far stricter instructor.
At the thought of Gunther, her worst nightmare became a reality. They all turned around as Gunther himself was spotted approaching them from the house, his hands behind his back, wearing a trench coat. Serenity had no idea he’d be back so early. One-day trips were uncommon. He laid back behind a tree a couple of meters from them, folding his arms.
“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be spectating your training,” he said sternly. “It’s been too long since I’ve done so. Time to monitor your progress.”
Serenity gulped anxiously; she had to perform well today. Her wellbeing depended on it. He was right; it was a long time since he last watched them train. If he detected that she made absolutely no improvement, he’d give her hell for it. This was the last thing she needed on a Saturday morning, at the crack of dawn. Desmos nodded in acknowledgment at Gunther’s attendance and carried on. They commenced immediately.
To her misfortune, they started immediately with the leopard crawls. She watched in dread as Desmos himself went first. Without hesitation, without turning back, he crawled the whole twenty meters in about twenty seconds. As expected, he showed no signs of pain or discomfort during the crawl. After Desmos was Garen, who performed just as excellently. His body was composed of steel, as nothing could penetrate it. Right after Garen went Kyler, who also unsurprisingly succeeded. Agno went up after and didn’t hide his displeasure. He cursed loudly as the rocks lacerated his right knee after an inadvertent movement. Cackle went up last and performed better than Agno. All of the brothers finished collectively in under five minutes without any problems. She was up next.
Serenity stepped up to the path reluctantly and got to her knees. She wasn’t looking forward to this at all. After crawling only about four feet along the rocks, she wanted to quit; the jagged edges of the rocks cut agonizingly against her skin as her body made contact. She gritted her teeth, pushing herself to advance. Gunther was watching. Small whimpers of pain came out of her, every few feet crawled. The end of the path served as her focus, and as it increasingly became closer, her drive only strengthened. The time limit loomed into her mind and only prompted her to pick up the pace, as much as she wanted to take it easy. She let out a cry of anguish as a particular rock cut into her abdomen, clearly drawing blood. Though, her elbows and knees were receiving the worst of it. The end of the path welcomed her at last.
“57 seconds,” Desmos announced. “No failures.”
She panted heavily, wincing while enduring the searing pain to the best of her abilities. Thankfully, she had completed it in under a minute and passed. The prospect of doing it again was unthinkable. She sat upright and lifted her shirt enough to reveal the cut on her abdomen. As expected, it was bleeding profusely. But the cut wasn’t too deep. Kyler noticed it and offered her a tourniquet. She waved it off wordlessly, putting down her shirt and merely applying pressure to stop the flow. Accepting the tourniquet would surely be perceived as some kind of sign of weakness to Gunther; she didn’t want to take any chances. Her shirt, of course, stained further with blood.
They were only given three minutes to rest before moving on to the next exercise. They all expected hand-to-hand sparring, as Desmos explained they would be doing it second. However, he must’ve changed his mind. Instead, Desmos announced they’d be doing simple push-ups next. She could only summon the strength to do twenty, as her arms were slashed up from the leopard-crawl. Meanwhile, the brothers did thrice as much. There was no set limit of repetitions; rather, it was a contest. And the results were always invariable; Desmos and Agno would be left last, usually giving up around the early 100s. Garen’s heaviness simply hindered his push-up's ability. They all watched silently, waiting to see the outcome. In the end, Agno performed well, but Desmos ultimately took the victory.
For the next three hours, they did a variety of training exercises, from suicides to pull-ups, laps, knife-throwing, target practice, tree climbing, planches, tree-balancing, and other miscellaneous workouts. They were all drenched in sweat by the end of it. She was practically dead, as always. All the stamina and energy were sucked out of her. The whole time, Gunther was observing silently, not moving a muscle or speaking a word. However, when he realized they were finished for the day, he finally spoke.
“Is that it?” he asked. “Finished already?”
“We trained hard,” Desmos nodded. “During school-season, the hours are reduced. Too much stress on the body is—”
“I know, I know that!” Gunther cut him off.
He circled them, like a lion stalking his prey. Serenity eyed her father, cautiously.
“But you’re forgetting one thing: sparring. You mustn’t forget to hone your combat skills! I’ve taught you this, haven’t I?!”
Serenity noticed a flicker of annoyance that flashed across Desmos’s face. There was a moment of silence before he responded again with a sigh.
“Of course, I must’ve forgotten,” Desmos drawled. “Sparring…”
“Mind your tone,” Gunther warned. “And mind who you’re talking to. I’m not sure what led you to skip sparring consciously, but don’t assume me to be naïve.”
Desmos nodded, bowing his head apologetically.
“Fine, then…first up, Agno and—”
“Allow me to conduct,” Gunther interrupted. “SERENITY!”
She got to her feet automatically, as if electrocuted. Standing tall, hands to her side, she awaited further orders apprehensively. Gunther had something bad planned for her. She could feel it.
“And Garen,” Gunther ordered. “Begin.”
Garen got to his feet. He approached Serenity, stopping two meters from her and facing him. By the look on his face, even he was feeling hesitant. There was no way this was a fair and balanced matchup, and Gunther knew it for sure. She looked up at the stocky, towering Garen fearfully; not once had she sparred against him. She knew that even if Garen stood completely still, none of her attacks would have any effect. She was simply physically incapable. Furthermore-—like the other brothers—Garen wasn’t the type to hold back against anybody. Aware of the absurdity of the matchup, Desmos protested.
“Father, a blind man, could predict the victor,” he said. “I suggest we make this more interesting.”
Gunther didn’t respond, which meant he was adamant. Desmos said nothing more, not daring to defy Gunther any further. He regained his element, assuming the role of referee.
“Begin!” Desmos barked.
Serenity took on a fighting position, heels ready to retreat, fists ready to defend. On the contrary, Garen did nothing; he simply stared at her casually, arms and legs relaxed. He was completely vulnerable. Her legs were trembling in anticipation; she had no idea what Garen was thinking or what he would do. Though, two things were clear; she couldn’t afford to disappoint Gunther and Garen wasn’t going to humiliate her without a struggle. Unable to reach his face due to the massive height difference, Serenity aimed for the lower body. She landed a clean blow to his abdomen. It was like hitting iron; her punch did not affect, and Garen didn’t even budge. Her knuckles learned first-hand of Garen’s ridiculous abdominal strength and refused to try again. Accepting the futility of punches, she charged forward, locking both arms around Garen’s waist and going for a classic Judo takedown. But nothing happened; Garen did not budge. He was too strong and heavy, solid like a statue
.
Garen had enough. He launched a right hook, his fist connecting with her jaw. She was knocked off her feet, taking flight half a yard, then crashing onto the ground. She spluttered, holding her jaw in shock. It wasn’t broken but was severely bruised. Garen did not waste time. He held her to the ground and punched her twice in the gut, absorbing the air from her lungs. Although it was obvious he was pulling his punches; it didn’t hurt any less. She noticed he was obscuring the others' view of her with his broad shoulders and sturdy back.
“You know I can’t fight you!” she said. “Give me a break!”
“Act like you’re trying!” Garen hissed urgently. “For your own sake!”
“What’s the hold-up?!” Gunther demanded. “Finish her, Garen!”
Serenity stopped resisting from his grip, looking into his eyes. They stared at each other directly for about two seconds, her eyes screaming “MERCY.” But she knew, and Garen knew, mercy wasn’t an option. They weren’t taught to show mercy. Serenity braced herself for the final blow before it inevitably came. He headbutted her violently, knocking her out unconscious, like a light switching off.
A fiery inferno of death as far as the eye could see. She stared as everything in her line of vision burned to ash… No sense of security enveloped her…just the tantalizing prospect of safety and tranquility. She remained frozen, watching as the events unfolded. Silhouetted figures marching into the now-desolated camp, ravaging and wreaking havoc in all directions. The sky was a scarlet hue of blood, obscured by the billowing black smoke while the intoxicated air reeked of charcoal. Her skin was on the verge of melting, yet she remained stationary. The muffled screams directed at her failed to reach her ears. Then, all of a sudden, it all came abruptly to an end as her consciousness mysteriously faded to black and nothingness in an instant…
When she opened her eyes, she saw blackness. But no flames, no heat, no bloodshed. She sat upright, back against a dirty wall. The only light in the room came from a lantern, set on top of a stool. The atmosphere was damp and musty. It took a few seconds, but it dawned on her where she was: The Dungeon. She moaned in dejection. Her forehead was bandaged, presumably due to the blow inflicted by Garen. The memories flooded into her head. As she took another look around, she noticed Agno sitting on the stairs leading up to the exit. He gazed down at her grimly.
“How long am I going to be down here…?” she asked dispiritedly, cutting to the chase.
“Only until dinner time… which is roughly…” Agno replied, checking his watch. “…six hours. You weren’t gone that long.”
“Did you give me something?” she groaned, massaging her head.
“What, like Xanax? Why do you ask?”
“I had a dream… like a really weird one…it was so vivid…” she said musingly.
“Never mind. Why am I here in the first place?”
“Father threw you down here,” Agno said matter-of-factly.
“I know that. But where’s the reasoning? For losing against Garen? What does he expect from me?!” she whined.
“To display strength and quit being a weakling,” Agno said tactlessly.
He got to his feet, unsympathetic towards her predicament.
“Well, have fun down here. And be grateful it’s only a couple of hours. You could’ve gotten way worse.”
Agno ascended the stairs, opening the only door to freedom and closing it shut, subsequently locking it securely. She lay on the floor despondently, contemplating her future… if she had one.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Although it was only a couple hours spent in the Dungeon, it felt interminable. The flame in the lantern eventually went out, leaving her in total darkness. The lack of light in conjunction with the absence of sound detrimentally played with her senses. She felt like a prisoner in solitary confinement; and this was essentially the case. More than a day in the Dungeon was liable to make anybody insane. The max duration she had spent in a Dungeon in her life was two days, while served one meal a day.
Dinner time greeted her at last, as the door up the stairs unlocked and creaked open. Light shimmered down into the basement immediately, rays of it meeting her gaze. She squinted, her eyes not yet adjusted to the light. The silhouette of Desmos was easily distinguishable, his supercilious posture a dead giveaway. He gestured her to come up and then walked off. Serenity got to her feet, stretching her legs; she hadn’t stood up the entire time. Even walking up the stairs proved to be difficult.
She made her way to the dining room and took a seat at the table with the brothers. Today, the menu comprised of exorbitant steaks, beef, chicken, and other miscellaneous meats. She felt they didn’t question enough how Gunther had the money to afford this type of luxury and everything else. He always had reiterated they received compensation and money for each successful hunt; they treated the hunts like contracts and their occupations as hitmen or assassins. But how exactly? Who paid them? Unknown still. Other than that, they also daringly relied on credit card fraud and counterfeit money…Cackle and Agno were especially proficient in that department.
As Serenity filled her plate, she looked around the table.
“Where is he?” she asked, pointing out the elephant in the room.
Not only was Gunther’s presence the “elephant in the room,” but also his absence sometimes…
“Gone,” Kyler replied shortly, who was opposite her.
“Again…? Where does he go all this time?”
“That’s a funny question,” Agno remarked. “Expecting an answer?”
“I’m just saying,” she pondered. “We never bother to question where he goes or what he’s doing—”
“It’s not in our place to,” Desmos interjected, from the other side of the table. “His business is his own. Period.”
“Yet our business is always his,” Serenity muttered scathingly.
Kyler shot her a look that plainly said: “SHUT UP.” Kyler seldom conveyed urgency (or any emotion) in any shape or form. She complied, abandoning the subject at hand. Instead, there were other things needed answering. And now was the perfect time to inquire.
“What happened after Garen put me to sleep? Did training just end after that? Or did something else happen?”
“Open your mouth one more time and I swear, I’ll impale you with this fork,” Cackle spat heatedly.
“Thanks to you, Father made us pay the price for your pathetic existence,” Garen added. “I should’ve hit you harder, I was too soft.”
Serenity stared at the both of them, bewildered and affronted. Anger welled up inside her once again as her temper elevated
“What do you mean? How is it my fault that I couldn’t beat Garen!? What did I do wrong?!” she argued.
“You failed the evaluation and now our eating privileges have been stripped away for tomorrow. Consequently, now we can’t train,” Desmos explained forthrightly. “I don’t know what yet...but I need to do something about you and do it fast…”
Serenity lowered her gaze in disbelief; their “eating privileges” hadn’t been taken away in a while. (Though eating was obviously a right and a necessity, not a privilege. Starvation was a common punishment.) She began to feel even hungrier all of a sudden and began eating faster, savoring the food. After dinner today, she wouldn’t be able to eat or drink anything until at least 9:00 PM. The others neglected her for the rest of the night.
The next morning, Serenity didn’t bother getting out of bed at dawn. Unable to eat or drink, there was no point spending energy to walk around the house aimlessly. The night before, she had stayed up late cleaning up the minor injuries she had received from training. After that, there was nothing else to do. Sleep overtook her eventually when she wasn’t even under the sheets.
The brothers were causing quite a commotion outside. They must’ve been very cranky, operating on an empty stomach. Really, they were just making it worse by depleting energy. She didn’t want to see them because they didn’t want to see her; even more than usual, as she
was the ostensible cause of their misery. The way it seemed to her, Gunther just wanted to find a way to punish her. Which was why he put her on the spot during sparring, pitting her against Garen of all people. He just couldn’t resist the temptation, seeking to rekindle the satisfaction of inducing her displeasure after such a long hiatus of virtually ignoring her.
When night finally arrived, it was evident they were free to eat again. She could hear Garen and Cackle yelling at the top of their lungs blissfully. Despite the irritating hunger and thirst strongly inside her, she did not go downstairs. It would just generate insults and hostility towards her. Additionally, the feelings of resentment were not yet extinguished. As an alternative, she waited even later at night. At around 1:30 in the morning, there was no point in starving herself any longer. She got out of bed and crept towards the door. As she opened it, she came to a halt. By her door was a plate of food along with a glass of water. A hamburger accompanied by french fries; she presumed they had gotten take-out from some fast-food restaurant. Serenity picked up the plate and glass, wondering who left it by her door. Fast-food wasn’t her preference, but she wasn’t a picky eater (especially when on an empty stomach).
She was back in school the following day at 7:00 AM. Sequim High was lacking in enthusiasm, shrouded in the ennui and misery of Monday morning. As she walked into her first period English class, half the class was already present, asleep on their desks. Mr. Marshall nodded civilly in her direction. Mr. Marshall respected her for being “well-mannered, exemplary, and behaved.” Though, Serenity was quiet and obedient in all of her classes; and the last person to get into trouble or misbehave.
The bell rang as she took her seat, waking up all the nappers. She set her bag down and took out her journal, awaiting the journal prompt. A few latecomers snuck into the classroom while Mr. Marshall was occupied with something, not paying attention. One of those latecomers was Tony, who took his seat next to her. He noticed her and gave her a cheeky smile.