Chapter 14: Crossing the Threshold

Les sat cross-legged on his apartment floor, a thin sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin from the morning workout. His muscles ached, but his mind was alive, sharper than it had been in years. The experience with Raiden's fight replayed in his head, every punch, every movement echoing as if it were his own. It was surreal—the merging of memory and skill, virtual and real—but it gave him hope.

He stared at his holo-pad, the blank screen waiting for his next move. This wasn't just a game anymore; it was the key to rebuilding himself, to becoming more than what he was. And that meant he needed to start thinking bigger, planning further ahead. His body was still a limitation, but it wouldn't be for long. Not if he kept pushing.

Les pulled up a map of the city, his fingers zooming in on potential places that could serve his needs. The park was good for basic training, but if he was going to make real progress, he needed something more. He needed a place that could support his physical growth and his mental conditioning. Somewhere that wasn't just a small, dusty apartment or a public park filled with joggers.

He scrolled through listings, trying to find somewhere affordable. Most high-tech training centers were still out of his reach financially, but then his eyes landed on something interesting. A small, independent gym nestled in an old part of the city, far from the sleek, modern facilities that catered to VR athletes. The name Old Town Combat Gym stood out in bold letters. Les tapped on it, curious.

The gym had been around for decades, its focus traditionally on martial arts and physical combat training. Reviews mentioned that it wasn't flashy, but the trainers were experienced, and the atmosphere was intense. It seemed like the kind of place where people came to sweat, fight, and push themselves beyond their limits.

Perfect.

Les quickly checked the membership fees—affordable, at least compared to the fancier options—and jotted down the address. He had some money saved up from his last few gigs, just enough to cover the basics. This gym might not have the VR-enhanced tech he was used to, but it had something he needed: a no-nonsense environment to sharpen his skills and strengthen his body.

Grabbing his jacket, Les headed out the door. The walk to the gym took him through streets he hadn't visited in years, filled with older buildings that seemed out of place in the futuristic sprawl of the city. There was a certain grittiness to this part of town—fewer neon lights, more cracked pavement—but it felt real. Grounded.

When he finally arrived at Old Town Combat Gym, it wasn't much to look at. The sign was faded, and the building itself looked like it had seen better days. But when Les stepped inside, the smell of sweat, leather, and effort hit him like a wave. The sounds of punches landing on heavy bags and feet shuffling across mats filled the air. There were no fancy holograms, no tech-sleek training pods, just raw, unfiltered training.

Les approached the front desk, where a stocky man with a shaved head was busy scrolling through something on his holo-pad.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, his voice rough but not unfriendly.

"Yeah," Les said, clearing his throat. "I'm looking to sign up for some training. I heard this is the place to be if you want to get better at, well, everything."

The man looked him up and down, clearly sizing him up. Les wasn't in bad shape, but he wasn't exactly a fighter either, not yet. "You want to train here, you better be serious. We don't do casual."

Les smirked. "I'm serious."

With a nod, the man handed him a form to fill out. After quickly signing up and paying for a month's membership, Les was led to one of the trainers—a lean, wiry man in his forties who looked like he'd been through more fights than most people would care to count. His name was Marcus, and as he introduced himself, there was no hint of anything but professionalism in his gaze.

"You ever done any real fighting before?" Marcus asked, his tone direct.

"Not in real life, but I've got some experience in VR," Les said, keeping his answer vague.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "VR, huh? Well, it's not the same thing, but if you've got some instincts, we can work with that."

Les followed Marcus to the training floor, where he was given a pair of old, battered gloves. They felt strange in his hands at first, a far cry from the high-tech, sleek gear he was used to in The Hub. But he adjusted quickly. This was about the basics now—no shortcuts, no enhancements.

The first hour was brutal. Les was put through the ringer, forced to endure drills that focused on his endurance, reflexes, and footwork. Every time he thought he was getting the hang of it, Marcus would push him harder, demanding more.

"You're too stiff," Marcus called out, as Les struggled to land a punch on the bag. "Relax. Fighting isn't just about power, it's about precision."

Les nodded, trying to shake off the tension in his body. He knew this. He had seen it in Raiden's movements—the fluidity, the control. But knowing it in his mind and getting his body to follow were two very different things. Still, he kept pushing, kept fighting against the fatigue.

By the end of the session, Les was drenched in sweat, his arms feeling like lead. But there was a small sense of satisfaction too. He wasn't there yet, but he was starting. Each punch, each movement, was a step toward something bigger.

As Les left the gym, his body exhausted but his mind racing, he couldn't help but feel like he had crossed a threshold. For the first time in a long time, he had a plan that wasn't just in his head—it was in motion. He had a place to train, a body to condition, and a skill that gave him an edge no one else had.

Life Mirror had already shown him the potential of the mind. Now, it was time to bring his body up to speed. And if this gym could give him even a fraction of the discipline and strength he needed, then he was ready to give it everything he had.

As he walked back through the city streets, Les felt the weight of the day's work settle into his bones, but it didn't feel heavy. It felt right.

Tomorrow, he'd come back. Tomorrow, he'd push even harder. This was just the beginning.