Chapter 16 CHAPTER 16
The man who I would now be referring to as every unmentionable foul word in my head screamed at me as I tried to keep up with the squad of first years before me.
Keyword, tried.
"If you don't meet them in the next fifteen seconds, you will be condemning everyone else to another lap!"
Groans and curses flowed from the students ahead of me, at least fifty of them, all running far ahead of me while I struggled to stop myself from falling and failing at that too.
I knew I was no match for these people—they'd been running for the past six months and even before that, the terrain wasn't like my soft environment back on Earth.
From the setting of the Academy alone, I knew the realm was built of tougher material, as well as the people in it.
I also couldn't find the shocking supernatural strength they possessed even though they acted like it was just a normal day and magic only comes in second year, but they'd lapped me twice now.
They were on their third lap and I was barely done with my first, and my lungs, legs and my entire existence were begging me to quit.
I wanted to. I'd been so damn close to blinking my eyes rapidly, but I remembered Baldwin's sneer, his excitement at what he would do to me, and it gave me five minutes of motivation to carry on before my legs would scream at me to stop.
And the cycle went on.
Up until now, when the Master of sadistic smiles and harsh words had put a penalty on my failing form.
I pushed myself, crossing the path that marked the end of my first lap while trying to reach the crowd ahead of me.
"Why are you fuckers slowing down?!" Torrin the horrible yelled from behind me, and I nearly fell again, but I managed to keep my legs moving. "You want to slow down so she'll catch up with you? How sweet. EXTRA LAP!"
The announcement caused groans of annoyance to ring out and at this point, I was close to tears of frustration.
This entire place had only given me one individual who tried smiling at me; everyone else was a hostile bugger who saw me as a disturbance.
And now, this hedgehog of a Master was creating enemies for me with this madness.
He knew I wouldn't be able to catch up with them without some sort of magical abilities, and his extra punishment made them run even faster, bringing tears to my eyes.
I didn't allow them to fall. I didn't quit, but goodness me, I was dying inside.
"Run faster! Don't be a fucking loser!"
The slug's voice was right next to my ear.
"Ah!" I screamed, missing a step. I twisted my ankle as I fell forward, face-first into the ground.
The pain ripped through my leg as I screamed louder, grabbing my ankle which was now bent at an odd angle from the spot my bone broke.
"Fucking pathetic," Master Torrin muttered under his breath as he squatted before me and pried my hands from my injured leg.
And without warning, he pulled it toward him—
"AHHH!!"
Resetting the bone to its rightful position.
I sat there, the pain so intense I couldn't even process the relief of the bone being straight again.
"You have no right to be here if you can't even detect when someone is right behind you," he sneered as he stood up and focused on the students that were now running toward me, having gone round the large field again. "Run faster! I don't have all day."
They increased their pace and I looked up, too late, realizing they were coming right to where I was on the ground, cradling the pulsating pain in my foot.
I began to move, panic ransacking my body as I remembered how they'd treated me every time they'd run past me.
Pinches here and there, tugs on my short hair and the mocking laughter that always remained with me as they ran past me.
And that was me by the sides, still forcing my feet to move.
Now with my foot immobile, my ass on the ground and after the hell rat's ass Torrin had put them through because of me, I didn't know what to expect.
But I didn't like it.
And the looks in their eyes, different shades and types of it, told me everything.
I tried dragging myself off the track to the sand by the side, but the thunder of their approaching footsteps told me I was slow.
Too slow.
I couldn't stand up so I settled for crawling, and the laughter began again, swallowing Master Torrin's voice, either aimed at me or them.
And right before I could fling myself over, they got to me.
Before I could throw myself clear, they were on me.
The first foot caught my shoulder. Then my ribs. Someone stepped on my hand—I heard the crack. Another kick to my side. A heel ground into my thigh.
I curled tighter, protecting my head and injured leg between my knees, but there were too many of them. Too many feet. Too much weight.
By the time the last person ran past, my head was pounding. My uniform hung in tatters. Blood ran down my arm where someone had clawed me.
And my uninjured foot throbbed from where it had been stepped on.
I refused to cry, even though I was teetering at the edge of it.
But it would only make me look weaker, not something I was particularly benefiting from.
Because in Drakkonia, weakness doesn't survive.
How was I to survive this for a whole week?
Done with the pity party, I forced myself to move completely off the tarred tracks to the sand by the side and waited for the entire thing to be over.
Nothing about this place was normal, and I wasn't going to waste my time trying to fit in.
So they could run faster and for longer, good for them, but when I get back to Utah, I would be spending most of my time before a screen doing some customer service work and tending to the library.
Finally, they began to slow down, Master Torrin with them, until they stopped before me.
Weird, because this wasn't even the starting point of the race—whatever, I'd be able to listen to what he was about to announce.
"You all have been quite a disappointment today," he announced loudly and I rolled my eyes.
Of course, why would he give encouragement to them after making them suffer unnecessarily?
"Tomorrow, for the swimming classes, try to keep your stomach empty. If you throw up in my pool, you'll be drinking every drop of it dry!"
What's worse is that he didn't even sound like he was being sarcastic.
The man looked like he was cooked in wickedness and enjoyed serving everyone a dish.
"Get on with your miserable day," he finished, and turned around.
Toward me.