The First Steps of a Warrior

The air was thick with anticipation as Greg stepped into the training grounds. The futuristic facility buzzed with energy, the faint hum of machinery filling the silence. He could see combat dummies arranged in lines, humanoid figures made of various materials—metal, fabric, and some kind of dense polymer—all ready to test his abilities. In the corners of the room, advanced weaponry and equipment racks displayed an array of options, from energy blades to plasma rifles, all designed for different styles of combat.

A holographic display appeared before him, providing a breakdown of the upcoming initiation:

"Training Grounds Initiation: Demonstrate basic combat proficiency. Objectives:

1.Defeat 10 holographic opponents using melee combat. 2.Perform three successful weapon-based maneuvers. 3.Achieve an 80% accuracy rate in ranged weapon training."

Greg took a deep breath. This was his first true test since passing the Crucible, and although the circumstances were different, the pressure was just as intense. He reminded himself that this was not just a game or simulation—this was his new reality, and failure could mean more than just a lost opportunity.

The interface shifted, and a countdown timer began: 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Begin!

The combat dummies activated, their forms shifting into semi-solid holograms that resembled humanoid opponents. Each was equipped with a basic melee weapon—some with swords, others with staffs or daggers. Their glowing eyes locked onto him, and the first dummy charged, swinging its sword in a downward arc.

Greg reacted instinctively. He sidestepped the swing and countered with a punch to the dummy's torso. His fist connected, sending a jolt through his arm. The feedback was surprisingly realistic; it felt as though he had hit solid muscle rather than a hologram. He quickly realized that the training grounds simulated real combat conditions, forcing him to treat these foes as though they were genuine adversaries.

The second dummy lunged at him from the side, wielding a staff. Greg grabbed the shaft as it swung toward his head, using the momentum to pull the dummy closer and deliver a knee strike to its midsection. As the training objectives flashed in his mind, he remembered that he needed to demonstrate specific maneuvers. He released the staff and delivered a spinning kick to the dummy's head, completing the first of the required techniques.

Greg's pulse quickened as more dummies closed in. He grabbed a nearby energy blade from a weapon rack, activating its shimmering blue edge with a flick of his wrist. He parried an incoming attack, then followed through with a slash that severed the dummy's arm cleanly at the joint. The simulated foe collapsed into pixels, its form disintegrating upon defeat.

As the next wave of holographic opponents approached, Greg adjusted his stance, wielding the energy blade with more confidence. The training objectives were straightforward, but he could feel the system evaluating every move he made, measuring his reaction time, precision, and decision-making. He switched tactics, focusing on the maneuvers required to complete the second objective. He performed a rising slash followed by a downward strike, then seamlessly transitioned into a backward thrust to fend off an approaching dummy.

The feedback from the System was immediate: "Maneuver Objective Complete: 3/3."

With the melee objectives behind him, Greg moved toward the shooting range on the other side of the training grounds. The target dummies transformed, morphing into stationary and moving targets positioned at various distances. He picked up a plasma rifle, its sleek design fitting comfortably in his hands. The weapon hummed to life as he aimed down the sights and squeezed the trigger.

The first few shots struck their marks, the energy blasts leaving faint scorch marks on the targets. He adjusted for the moving targets, leading his aim to account for their speed. It wasn't long before he found his rhythm, hitting shot after shot with growing accuracy. Each successful hit brought him closer to the 80% target required to pass. He focused intensely, blocking out distractions, even as the targets moved in unpredictable patterns.

The System announced: "Ranged Accuracy Objective Complete: 82%."

With all three objectives met, the timer stopped, and the remaining dummies vanished. Greg exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease. He had passed the initiation, but the true meaning of the test was becoming clearer—this was just the beginning of a much larger journey.

The holographic interface reappeared, congratulating him on completing the initiation: "Training Grounds Initiation Complete. New Quest Unlocked."

The display shifted to reveal the next phase of his training: "Advanced Combat Simulations – Adapt to real-world scenarios with various combat difficulties. Rewards: Skill points, weapon proficiency, and access to the Combat Arena."

Greg couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. The stakes were growing higher, and with each new challenge, the System demanded more of him. Yet, he knew that if he wanted to survive in this strange new world—or any other—he would have to push himself further than ever before.

Before he could dwell on the next quest, a door on the far side of the training grounds opened with a low hiss. Beyond it was a large observation room, filled with high-tech equipment, consoles, and viewing screens. Standing in the middle of the room was a figure he hadn't seen before—a woman with an air of authority. She was dressed in a sleek black uniform, her posture rigid, and her expression unreadable.

"Congratulations on completing the initiation," she said, her voice calm but carrying an undertone of steel. "You've shown potential, but potential alone is not enough. Here, you will be tested continuously, and only those who adapt will rise to greatness."

Greg nodded, meeting her gaze. "I understand. I'm ready for whatever comes next."

"Good," she replied. "Because your next assignment will take you beyond the training grounds. You're to report to the Combat Arena for a live trial. There, you'll face opponents who won't hesitate to kill you. It's not a simulation. It's real combat, and you'll be evaluated on your ability to handle yourself under pressure."

The woman turned to leave but paused at the door. "One more thing," she added without looking back. "Your life here is not guaranteed. You're in a world where only the strongest survive, and there will be no mercy for those who can't keep up. Remember that."

The door closed behind her, leaving Greg alone in the observation room. His chest tightened slightly at the thought of facing real combat so soon, but he wasn't about to back down. He had been given a second chance at life, a new purpose, and he intended to make the most of it. If the System's trials had taught him anything, it was that growth came through struggle, and he was prepared to face whatever came his way.

The Combat Arena awaited, and with it, the promise of real danger, real rewards, and a path to becoming something greater. As Greg stepped toward the next door, he felt a resolve harden within him—he was not the same man who had died in that burning building. He had been reborn as a warrior, and now it was time to prove it.