I ducked as I felt the cool water and was rewarded with a nut shot for my efforts. I didn't blackout, and I believe my body betrayed me in that manner as I was forced to endure the pain for a not insignificant amount of time. My ground time gave me time to think about my predicament. As I watched Young Mord walk back to the center of the circular room, a new nut-bashing stick in hand, I noticed far more than I did last time. First was that despite the pain, I was far more clear-headed. Not to undersell it, the nut shot was at least a full magnitude worse than the jab to the face. I could just see more. And notice more. I was able to see the perfection in his steps. His weight smoothly transitioned across each barefoot and from leg to leg. He kept the five to six-foot wooden rod perfectly vertical. As he turned, I was willing to bet a pen attached to the bottom would have drawn a perfect line and circle on the floor.

  I begrudgingly got up; thankfully, he remained still. A few deep breaths and a shoulder roll later, and I was ready—as ready as I could be, having no clue how to escape this place. I hoped I didn't go full Bill Murray before I got out. I steeled into a fighting stance, or what I felt could be one, fists up and ready to go against the stick.

  Young Mord was not impressed, or if he was, he kept it to himself. I caught his eyes darting down to my Blades. Well, if he wanted to get stabbed again….

  The stick caught me twice before I had both blades up. Once in the shoulder, the other upside the ear. Once again, it was pain, and my traitorous body refused to black out and reset the room.

  “Mother fucker” I said as I rubbed my left ear, hoping that my hand wouldn't come away with blood or, worse, part of the said ear.

  “I do not understand….insult.”

  “Yes, but not directed more of an expletive. That fucking hurt.”

  “Ahh fucking hurt…like pure girls first time. Ok, we start easy.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Did you really?” he called me a virgin, whining about popping her cherry. It was on. And I told him so.

  “Oh brother, it’s on,” and charged.

  The floor was nice and cool against my sore ear, but Mord’s knee in my neck and the stick somewhere violating my leg were not.

  “We are not kin…..but also does not sparring form a brotherhood, again.”

  He clearly didn’t get slang. Probably my fault.

  I ended up on my back.

  My side.

  My face.

  And surprisingly on my head in a weird position that made me glad Mord didn't want to explore the legion’s version of brotherly love. Through it all, I did not pass out. I took the opportunity in one of the frequent breaks he gave me, you know, after he beat my ass, to ask.

  “Mord, what is this place?”

  “A place of learning…you gain knowledge…you leave. Until then, you make friends with floor.”

  “I read a book; why isn’t it helping?”

  “Is helping. You are faster and much harder to hit. Again!”

  After what seemed like hours, I had a breakthrough. Mord started with a simple series of strikes; I found the pattern a few ass-kickings ago. Despite that, I still ended up in a pile of pain. As he came down with an overhead strike, I knew it would hit my shoulder hard again. Pretty sure it would dislocate this time. In the brief moment of clarity, I knew he would miss if I was a few inches to the side and that a quick twist of my elbow and wrist with the blade just right and he would drive the blade into his side.

  I felt myself move. It was more fluid, like a slide. My whole body adjusted, and I thought my arm trapped the ball buster. My blade was driving towards his hip when he stopped. And I do mean stopped. All the momentum was frozen. His muscles flexed, and the tip of the blade stopped, just touching his hip.

  We broke apart gently. We both knew what the outcome would have been.

  “How did it feel?”

  “It felt good.”

  “I assume so, but how did it feel? He mimicked part of my motion.

  “It felt like I was in the wrong place, and then I moved into the right place.”

  “Not in the right between two wrong places.” he nodded and disappeared with a pop and flash of light.

  I thought about what he said. Words came to my mouth unbidden.

  “The Void isn’t a place. It exists in between all places.”

  I swear I heard a ‘click,’ but it could have been the door behind me. I walked to it. I had beaten Mord without blacking out. As I grabbed the handle, I was pretty sure he had let me.