Chapter 9 - The Great Verbal Rebellion

The next morning, I practically stormed into the training grounds, fully prepared for vengeance. Not physical vengeance—because let's face it, I could barely survive one round with Elren—but verbal vengeance.

"Good morning."

Elren gave me his usual nod of acknowledgement, already holding a training spear.

"Silent drills today—"

"NO."

He blinked, the briefest flicker of surprise.

"Sir, with all due respect, I am done. I have suffered. I have endured. I have withheld my sacred right to complain, and now, today, I am cashing in every silent minute I endured yesterday."

He raised an eyebrow, still impossibly calm. "Continue."

"I have a lot to say. And I'm going to say all of it. You can't stop me. I am a verbal force of nature. I am the storm. I am the wind that screams in the ears of the unprepared. I am—"

"Move."

I began the drills anyway, but this time, I talked non-stop.

"So, listen, Elren. Yesterday was traumatic. I had a whole therapy session in my head. You know how people say silence is golden? Wrong. Silence is a prison. A cold, soulless, cardio-filled prison."

Block. Step. Swing. Breathe.

"And you. You're like the warden who confiscated my right to monologue. Did you know I almost invented a new language in my head yesterday just to keep myself entertained? I had nothing but footwork and internal screaming."

Dodge. Rotate. Block.

"Also, who invented these drills? Who sat down and thought, 'You know what? Let's make someone do the same foot pattern five hundred times while a walking ice sculpture pokes them with a stick.'"

Tap. Reset.

"Oh, you're still tapping me. That's fine. I'll just talk louder."

Swing. Step. Block.

"By the way, I've been thinking—do you even have hobbies? Do you, like, knit in your free time? Do you write passive-aggressive poetry about your trainees? Or is your hobby just staring out windows, brooding dramatically?"

Tap.

"Rude, but expected."

Block. Step. Rotate.

"You know, if you keep this up, I'm going to start making up stories about you. I bet the cafeteria staff already think you live entirely on protein bars and spite."

Tap.

"No problem. I can do this all day."

I continued my drills, endlessly narrating every move, every complaint, every stray thought that passed through my head.

"Also, I need to know—do you ever smile for real? Not just that tiny lip twitch thing you do when I apparently amuse you with my pain. I'm aiming for a full, genuine, teeth-showing smile. It's my life goal now."

Tap.

"Challenge accepted."

I spun and parried, my breath ragged but my spirit undefeated.

"Yesterday, I named the coffee machine. Her name is Gloria now. Gloria understands me. Gloria doesn't judge me. Gloria provides."

Tap.

"I will write her a thank-you note."

Elren finally paused, the smallest hint of exasperation flickering in his eyes.

"You talk too much."

"Correct."

"Focus."

"Oh, I'm focused. Focused on surviving and winning the war of endurance against you."

Tap.

"It's fine. Gloria believes in me."

Hours passed. I did not stop.

"So I was thinking, maybe I should get a cool nickname. Like, Ava the Unstoppable. Or Ava the Very Loud. Or Ava the Grave Whisperer—no wait, that sounds too ominous."

Tap.

"Fine. Ava the Persistently Annoying."

By the time the drills ended, I was half-dead but triumphant.

"Do you regret lifting the silence rule yet?"

"You exhausted yourself."

"Worth it."

"Tomorrow, silent drills again."

"What?"

"Recovery training."

"No, you can't do that!"

"Efficient."

"I am going to riot."

"Denied."

He's enjoying this. I know it. I can see it. This is psychological warfare. He doesn't even need to win physically—he just outlasts me verbally. Well played, sir. But I will not go quietly. Tomorrow, I will find a loophole. I will whisper. I will sing. I will hum. I will tap in Morse code. You cannot silence me!

Back at the apartment, I sat on the couch with Gloria the coffee machine, whispering sweet promises to her as I brewed two cups.

Elren walked in, his coat slung over his shoulder, and I handed him a cup without meeting his gaze.

"You're not going to silence me forever, you know."

"You're still breathing."

"Barely."

"Good."

"Also, you owe Gloria a thank-you."

"Who?"

"The coffee machine. She's the only reason I survived today."

"Noted."

"You're going to say that every time, aren't you?"

"Correct."

We drank in silence. Well, I drank. Elren stared at the window like the city held the answers to the universe.

I'll get him to smile. I'll get him to laugh. I'll make him crack. This is my new mission.

"Elren, what would it take to make you laugh?"

"Don't try."

"That sounds like a challenge."

"It's not."

"You're just saying that because you know I'll double my efforts now."

"Correct."

"Perfect."

Victory. Almost.