Chapter 2: The Training Begins

The next morning, Mateo woke me before the sun even rose. The city was still shrouded in mist, the streets quiet except for the distant sound of carts and the occasional shout. I rubbed my eyes, still sore from yesterday, but Mateo’s presence made me feel alert instantly.

“Time to start,” he said. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried weight. I nodded, unsure of what to expect.

We started with something simple—mental exercises. Mateo handed me a small notebook and a pencil. “Answer these questions as fast as you can. Don’t overthink, just write what comes to mind.”

The first few were easy: numbers, simple logic puzzles, things I could handle. But then he started mixing them with abstract questions: patterns, codes, hypothetical situations. My hand cramped from writing, my mind spun trying to keep up.

“You’re rushing,” Mateo said calmly. “Speed isn’t everything. You need precision too. Focus.”

I took a deep breath, letting the pain in my finger fade into the background. With every question, I forced myself to slow down and think clearly. Mateo watched silently, noting every mistake, every hesitation.

Hours passed like this. I didn’t realize when hunger hit or when my body started to ache. I was completely absorbed in the work. And somewhere deep inside, I felt a spark—an understanding that maybe, just maybe, I could do this.

At midday, Mateo finally allowed a break. He handed me a small loaf of bread and a flask of water. I ate in silence, too tired to speak. Mateo sat across from me, calm as ever.

“You’re improving,” he said finally. “Not because of your ability, but because of your effort. That’s what matters most.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Inside, though, a small fire burned. I wanted to learn. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to survive the exams, the challenges, the dangerous people that waited for me outside this small room.

When the training resumed, Mateo added something new: observation exercises. I had to notice tiny details around the room—shifts in shadows, patterns in the cracks of the wall, even the subtle sounds of the city outside. My senses stretched, my focus sharpened.

By the time evening came, I was exhausted, sore, but… different. More alert. More aware. More ready.

Mateo finally leaned back, letting me catch my breath. “Tomorrow, we’ll take the next step. Fighting. But first, remember this: thinking clearly under pressure is more important than strength alone. Never forget that.”

I nodded, swallowing my fatigue with determination. I didn’t know what challenges lay ahead, but I knew this was the beginning. The beginning of becoming someone who could survive… and maybe even thrive.

That night, as I lay down to sleep, I replayed every question, every observation, every word Mateo said. And for the first time, I felt like I was on the right path.

I was ready to take the next step.