Drowner: Becoming Defekt

Kai

Vlad has been kicking my ass for the past two hours. Caden calls this method of torture "sparring to see if the instincts remained."

I call it a one-sided beatdown.

It's already obvious—the only thing I have in common with my other self is the face.

Vlad doesn't even look winded. Meanwhile, I'm gasping for air, sprawled on the padded floor like a discarded rag doll. My arms ache, my legs feel like lead, and every inch of me is screaming to give up.

"Get up," Vlad growls, towering over me with his arms crossed. His shadow looms like a mountain.

"I'm… trying," I manage between breaths, dragging myself to my knees.

"You think your enemies will wait for you to catch your breath?" he snaps, his tone cold.

"Maybe… if I ask nicely," I wheeze.

That earns me a rare smirk, but it disappears as quickly as it came.

"Enough jokes," Caden calls from the sidelines, jotting something down on a clipboard like a scientist observing a lab rat. "We need to know if you can tap into that state again without a life-threatening situation. Keep pushing him, Vlad."

Vlad cracks his knuckles, and I swear I hear the faintest chuckle. "With pleasure."

Fantastic. Another round of humiliation.

After another beatdown, Caden finally calls it. Or so I think.

I'm lying flat on the mat, trying to catch my breath, when he tells Vlad to step off the sparring ground. Relief washes over me for a split second.

"Thank god," I mumble, hauling myself up on shaky legs. Vlad shoots me one last intimidating glare before stepping to the side.

But before I can thank Caden for finally putting an end to my misery, I see him step onto the mat himself.

"Wait, what?" I manage, confused.

Without a word, he closes the distance and throws a punch square at my face.

I don't even have time to react. His fist connects, sending me staggering backward. Pain blooms across my cheek, and I clutch it, stunned.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shout, massaging my face.

Caden doesn't answer immediately. He stands there, calm as ever, his hands loosely at his sides, his expression unreadable. Finally, he speaks.

"I think it's about time we change the approach, don't ya think?"

"So your solution is to sucker punch me?!" I snap, still reeling from the hit, my voice echoing off the walls of the training ground.

"Not exactly," he replies, his tone maddeningly calm. His hands curl into fists, and he takes a fighting stance. "The thing that triggered it last time was passing out. Maybe that's the key."

My stomach sinks. "Wait—what are you—"

Before I can finish, he dashes toward me with alarming speed, closing the gap in a blink. His fist slams into my abdomen, the force knocking the air out of my lungs.

I double over in pain, but he doesn't stop. His next attack is a brutal hook to my jaw.

The room spins.

Then, everything goes black.