Chapter 30: Trash Talking Motivator
The wide, desolate field stretched endlessly before them, the harsh sunlight beating down on their exhausted forms. All around the perimeter, students lay sprawled on the uneven ground, their bodies trembling with fatigue.
Some were leaning against their bonds, their eyes closed in desperate attempts to catch their breath. Others simply collapsed, sweat pouring down their faces, their chests heaving as they struggled to recover from the relentless tests.
Khalil wasn't any different.
His body was aching, his limbs felt like lead, and his breath came in sharp, painful gasps. His muscles screamed for respite, but his pride and determination forced him to remain upright, even if only barely.
His bond chirped softly beside him, pressing against his leg for comfort, its small, sleek form offering him a small, but much-needed source of reassurance. Khalil rested his back against its warm feathers, his hand resting on the creature's soft, comforting body. It seemed like the little guy wasn't tired at all. Its stamina must be really high.
As for his own, it seemed, was his greatest weakness.
He wasn't unfit, but compared to the others, especially the red-haired boy who had powered through the runs with a surprising ease, Khalil felt like he was barely hanging on.
His body had never been trained for this level of endurance.
But it wasn't just his physical limits that made this challenge so grueling. It was the mental weight—the feeling that every time he thought it was over, Mathis would drag them back into the gauntlet, slapping them with another round of the Death Run.
"Seven times," Khalil muttered to himself, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Seven times... and it gets worse each time."
The Death Run had started with shadow beasts and eerie obstacles that made the very air seem like it was pushing against them. After each run, Khalil had thought the worst was over, only for Mathis to make them start again, each trial more difficult than the last.
On the third run, Raine had collapsed, her winged serpent unable to keep up. Her graceful speed turned into clumsy, desperate movements as the shadows swarmed in, and she was forced to drop out.
Khalil still remembered the sound of her frustrated curse, her face streaked with sweat and dirt as she collapsed against the ground after her bond, weary and broken.
The timid boy had been the biggest surprise, however. Khalil hadn't expected much from him, not with his fragile form and fearful demeanor.
But the boy pushed himself further than any of them had expected. He had made it to the sixth run, his cat bond stumbling but never faltering, and Khalil couldn't help but admire the quiet strength that had pushed him that far.
As for Khalil, it had been a close call. There had been a few times when he thought his legs would give out, when he could feel the energy draining from him, but somehow—somehow—each time he completed a run, a small, refreshing burst of energy seemed to course through him.
It wasn't much, just a tiny spark, but it was enough to keep him moving forward. But now, after six runs, his body had reached its breaking point. His muscles refused to cooperate, and every step felt like walking through molasses.
He could barely lift his feet, let alone push himself for another round.
The field felt impossibly quiet for a moment, the only sound the ragged breathing of the students as they lay, utterly drained. But then, the unmistakable heavy footsteps of Mathis broke the silence.
Khalil's eyes snapped open, and he immediately felt a rush of irritation. He had been hoping, praying, that Mathis would let them rest, but of course, that wouldn't be the case.
The instructor appeared before them, tall and looming like a shadow itself, his expression unreadable. His bond, the large black panther Gorran, stood at his side, its glowing red eyes scanning the students with unyielding scrutiny.
"Pathetic," Mathis said, his voice smooth, but dripping with contempt. "You think this is hard? That was only the beginning. You're lying here, breathing like you're already dead, and I haven't even seen you at half your potential. Some of you were out by the second run, others by the fourth. And some of you are just barely managing to stand."
Khalil could hear the biting words, but there was something else in Mathis's tone—was it satisfaction? It was hard to tell, but it didn't matter. The students' faces were a mix of anger and humiliation, unsure whether to be offended or grateful. His words didn't help matters.
"Get up," Mathis commanded, his voice sharp. "There's no point lying around like you're waiting for a miracle. The training will continue until I say otherwise. And don't think you're going to get any sympathy from me."
A few of the students groaned, some pushing themselves shakily to their feet, their bonds nudging them for support. Others merely shifted on the ground, too tired to even attempt moving.
Mathis's eyes scanned the group, his lips curling into something that could almost be called a smile. "I'll tell you something you should have already learned: You can't be a Tamer unless you experience everything with your bond. Everything. The running. The eating. The sleeping. The bathing. You think you're special? You think you're above it all because you're in this academy? You're nothing more than weak, scared children who have yet to even begin understanding the worly you have stepped into."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in.
"You live with your bond. And that means facing every hardship together. But you won't understand that until you've bled with them, suffered with them, and fought with them. Not just when it's convenient or when it suits you. A bond isn't a tool you pull out for a battle, and then leave behind when you're resting. It's everything. Everything."
Khalil felt a flicker of something—a mix of enlightenment and insight. 'So this is what the bonding process is about...'
'But... he looks like a trash talking motivator...'
'Guess this is his style...'
While the truth in Mathis's words stung more than the many students liked to admit.
Wasn't that what they had been doing all this time? Using their bond like an accessory? A tool to help them when it was needed, but too often distancing themselves when the weight of the situation was too much to bear?
"Get used to this pain," Mathis continued, his eyes narrowing. "Your bodies will break, and you will have to rebuild them. Your bond will break, and you will have to rebuild it. This is what it means to be a Tamer. Only those who endure will survive."
There was a long silence before Mathis's voice cut through again.
"Now," he said, his tone suddenly lighter, "get your asses moving."
"You are lucky that the next class started."
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