Chapter 13: This Might Be Hell.
It's day three of my training with Cain, and I think I might die.
Not from a wound, mind you. No, my body is holding up fine, well, aside from the aches and bruises. It's the sheer humiliation that might actually kill me.
And apparently, just because I have the Mark of the Regenerator doesn't mean I get to heal like some unstoppable monster like I originally thought. No, that would be too damn convenient. Turns out, all three of my powers need to be triggered, meaning my body is currently a tapestry of soreness and bruises because I have absolutely no idea how to turn on the damn thing.
Because of course it works like that. Why wouldn't it? "Fuck my life."
I wince as I roll my shoulders, feeling every single bruise and scrape I've collected over the last few days. The dull ache in my ribs, the stiffness in my arms—yeah, Cain is exactly the type of prick I always knew him to be.
I swear under my breath, kicking the wall I was leaning against. "Stupid divine gifts with their stupid conditions."
My mind flashes back to the shame of that first "training' session, if you could even call it that. I shudder in embarrassment.
"Alright, Ayato," Cain says, standing in the middle of the training hall with that lazy confidence of his. He's not even in a proper stance, just rolling his shoulders, like this is all a warm-up for him. "You've got all this new strength, but there's one problem: you have absolutely no idea how to use it."
I scoff. "I'm pretty sure I know how to hit something. I've been in street fights before; the outskirts aren't pretty, you know."
Cain raises a brow, clearly entertained. "Oh? Then by all means, prove me wrong. Run at me and punch me. Don't hold back."
I glance at him suspiciously. This feels like a trap. "That's it?"