Consciousness returned to Alexander not with the harsh sting of reality, but with the gentle, rhythmic rustle of wind through high grass. He blinked, looking around to find himself standing in the center of that familiar, eerily tranquil meadow. The infinite blue sky stretched overhead, detached from the brutal chemical chambers of the subterranean facility.

With a soft, electronic chime, a translucent blue holographic menu materialized in the air right in front of his chest.

Alexander stepped closer, his dark eyes scanning the floating text. The interface had updated significantly since his last visit, displaying a clean, vertical list of protocols to select from:

Sex Training

Hand-to-Hand Combat

Firearms Mastery

Tactical Vehicles

Locked

Locked

His gaze locked onto the final two options, his brow furrowing as he stared at the heavily encrypted, unreadable text blocks.

What the hell else could I possibly train in this place that doesn’t fall under those categories? thought Alexander, a deep, frustrated curiosity scratching at the back of his mind. Shit, I really want to know what those bastards are hiding behind those locks.

He shook his head, forcing his mind back to the immediate reality of his current tactical standing. He evaluated his strengths and weaknesses with cold, unyielding logic. Sex training was already handled; his performance with the women and the raw power of his stamina proved he was dominating that field. His firearms handling was lethal enough to wipe out a warehouse of traffickers, and he drove the Shelby decently enough to outrun a police perimeter.

But he couldn’t fight.

The vivid, humiliating memory of how effortlessly Marcus had pinned him down in his own hotel room flashed across his mind. Marcus had controlled his weight, stripped his balance, and dominated him without breaking a single sweat.

It’s time to fix my weaknesses, thought Alexander.

He reached out his hand and firmly tapped the Hand-to-Hand Combat option.

The serene meadow instantly dissolved. The vibrant green grass withered away into dust, and the sky turned a dark, oppressive graphite gray as the ground beneath his combat boots hardened into a massive, blood-stained concrete arena.

Before he could even adjust his stance, five distinct human silhouettes materialized in a semi-circle around him. They were faceless, their smooth, featureless heads casting eerie reflections under the arena’s artificial light, but their physiques were heavily muscled, vascular, and imposing.

Alexander quickly realized exactly why selecting this option was a terrible idea.

Each entity shifted its weight, instantly adopting highly specialized, lethal combat stances.

The first figure began bouncing lightly on the balls of its feet, its jaw tucked deep behind tightly raised guards as it threw lightning-fast, snapping jabs into the air—a master-level boxer.

The second figure stood bladed, its core loose and balanced as its leg flicked out in a blinding, high-extension crescent kick that cut through the air with a sharp whistle—a Taekwondo specialist.

The third figure marched forward with a rigid, terrifying march, its elbows and knees raised in a tight, destructive shield while its hips rotated with the brutal intent of a Muay Thai warrior.

The fourth figure dropped low to the ground, its hips shifted wide and its arms extending like predatory vines, ready to drag him into the deep, suffocating waters of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.

The fifth and final figure stood perfectly balanced in the center, its posture a seamless, unsettling blend of all the others—a Mixed Martial Arts weapon.

Alexander’s jaw tightened, his knuckles cracking as the five faceless giants slowly began closing the distance, trapping him in the center of the ring.

The boxer moved first. In a fraction of a second, the faceless entity closed the distance, slipping right past Alexander’s hastily raised guard. A devastating left hook slammed directly into his jaw, the sheer velocity of the impact rattling his skull and sending a spray of blood across the ring.

Alexander staggered backward, his vision blurring, but before he could even regain his footing, the Muay Thai specialist stepped into the pocket. A rock-hard shin cut through the air like a baseball bat, slamming into Alexander’s ribs with a sickening, echoing crack. The force of the blow lifted his lean frame off the ground.

As he began to fall, the Taekwondo fighter spun on a dime. A blinding, hyper-extended wheel kick caught Alexander squarely in the chest, the impact launching him across the arena floorboards like a ragdoll.

"Dammit..." groaned Alexander, spitting a mouthful of crimson onto the stone as he forced his battered body to crawl upward.

But there was no reprieve. The moment his knees left the floor, the Jiu-Jitsu specialist slithered in from the shadows. Long, featureless arms wrapped around Alexander’s neck from behind, while the entity’s legs securely locked around his waist, dragging him right back down into the dirt. The suffocating rear-naked choke tightened instantly, cutting off the oxygen to his brain as his vision began to vignette into pitch black.

Right before he could lose consciousness, the fifth figure—the MMA master—loomed over him. The entity rained down a catastrophic barrage of ground-and-pound, heavy elbows and concrete-shattering fists smashing repeatedly into Alexander’s face until his nose collapsed and his consciousness finally shattered.

The world went black for a single heartbeat.

Then, with a sharp, electronic beep, the simulation reset.

Alexander gasped for air, his eyes flying open as he found himself standing right back in the center of the concrete ring. His bones were perfectly intact, the blood gone, his body restored to peak physical condition. But the psychological horror of the pain remained violently etched into his mind.

Before he could even draw a second breath, the boxer bounced forward, his heavy fists already cutting through the air to dismantle him all over again. He was trapped in a terrifying, inescapable cycle of destruction, forced to learn the brutal language of combat through the tearing apart of his own flesh.

Alexander forced his battered chin up, his eyes burning with a desperate, prideful fury; even though those entities had no features, he could feel their faceless gazes pinning him down, radiating a cold, mocking amusement as if they were smiling at his pathetic weakness.