Day 98:

  Today was a bit different than other days. I was exempt from testing and got called in to meet the head researcher again.

  When I arrived there, I saw the white-haired girl sitting on his left side.

  It seems the results of my last test had gotten the attention of some of the facilitators, as they also wondered how I survived when my helmet short-circuited.

  She was staring at me the entire time while the head-researcher was talking.

  He asked me a few questions of my experience, in which I lied and said that it hurt really bad and that was it.

  He mumbled for a bit before stating that he wanted to repeat the test to see if he could find a common result, until the girl interrupted his train of thought with an idiotic suggestion.

  She stated that it would be better to measure my worth in the tournament, considering I had already handled no.8.

  He typed something on his computer before noting that I had lost in the preliminaries.

  The white-haired girl looked at me with a confused expression. As if she was saying, “How could you lose?”

  I ignored her and brought up the topic of me killing another single-digit. I asked him if that was all the punishment I was receiving, due to me being suspicious of how lenient he was.

  In response he assured me that from that altercation the “necessary data” he received proved more fruitful than the scene I caused.

  I was dismissed despite the groaning of the white-haired girl as I retired to my room for the day.

  Day 100:

  I believe it is customary for some people to celebrate upon reaching the 100th of something.

  Apparently it makes them feel good?

  I jumped up and down and flailed my arms around to emulate this celebration.

  …..

  All it did was make me feel like an idiot and reminded me once more that I needed some physical activity.

  Day 108:

  I made true of the promise to myself when I said I would begin to do some physical activity.

  Once I confirmed there would be no testing for me today, I requested one of the facilitators to take me to the training grounds.

  He refused at first saying I don’t have the rights to just ask to leave whenever I want, until I told him that the head researcher would allow it.

  I argued saying he’s obviously expecting something from me if he let me live even after the scene I caused, so I didn’t want to slack off and underperform as a result.

  He quickly left and after about 30 minutes came back and chaperoned me to the training grounds.

  I started with 10x sprints from one end to the training field and back. Once the warm-up was finished, I moved on to quick-footwork drills where I shuffled back and forth a short distance 100x.

  After doing this a couple more times with different variations, speeds, and quantity, I moved on to the final drill.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  I usually did this drill with my father, but he was no longer around, so I had to imagine him standing in front of me.

  I fought with this image for about 10 minutes, and deduced that if he was really here, I would have done at least 30% worse than what I could’ve done before I was taken here.

  I need to do this daily to get back to how I was before.

  Back at home, my parents would make me run through the toxin-infested air for hours on end, and do multiple footwork exercises to increase my speed.

  They would train my reaction time, and critical thinking skills under pressure. Once those were done, I was to learn basic language and arithmetic, I seldom had a day off.

  I believe this started when I was 4. I asked one day why I never did any strength training, due to me seeing my dad lifting quite a hefty sum of weight. He only told me that doing strength training at such a young age would stunt my growth, and that I should grow up tall because of them.

  I’ll take his word for it.

  Day 112:

  Just like how the cafeteria used to be, me going to the training grounds became a daily excursion. My options were limited considering I had no one to train with me, but I could at least keep up my physical fitness.

  Each day after four days ago, I would silently bang on my door until a facilitator came.

  I didn’t feel like speaking to any other one except the first one that took me, because I didn’t feel like re-explaining my situation.

  After about five minutes of incessant banging, the exasperated facilitator came and opened the door with a glare.

  Perhaps I should learn his name.

  Day 118:

  As I was sparring with the image of my father today, someone tapped my shoulder and broke me from my concentration.

  It was the facilitator that I forced asked to take me to the training grounds everyday.

  He questioned why I was punching the air, and acting like I was getting hit.

  I wouldn’t usually answer but because he so graciously complied listened with my demands I told him the story of my father and I sparring.

  He then nodded his head and squatted down, asking me to treat him as my father and spar.

  I asked him why, and he brushed me off saying how he was bored just standing out here watching me for two hours every day.

  I complied with his request, hoping he was a capable fighter.

  …….

  I was forced by the other facilitators to accompany him to the healing pods afterwards.

  Day 126:

  I can now confidently say that my physical strength and fitness were back to what they were before arriving here.

  I’ve been risking going to the cafeteria daily to regain my energy. I face the glares of multiple of the single-digits as i’m getting food.

  But I need to eat or I couldn’t train as hard as I wanted to.

  There are multiple rotations of set times for the cafeteria, I always come at the end of the 2nd rotation, so that I can leave at the beginning of the 3rd rotation, thus avoiding any hostility.

  The days recently have been rather peaceful, due to the tournament there has been no “tests” for a while, and it will probably continue until the tournament starts.

  I most likely won’t update this until after the tournament, unless something exceptional happens.

  Day 143:

  Something exceptionally terrible happened. I was selected to take part in the tournament after completing a test.

  Apparently, according to the Head Researcher I was recommended a re-try by a “colleague” of mine. I could only assume it was the white-haired girl. He had thought it was strange I had lost in the first place, and a logical argument from another number was the last push he needed to try and force me into the tournament.

  However, there was a twist.

  The loser of this preliminary test match would lose their life, so I couldn’t just lose.

  How annoying.

  My opponent was a scrawny, orange haired kid holding a spear. Again, I was allowed a weapon of choice.

  This was essentially a fight to the death considering that if you surrendered, you would die by the hands of the facilitators. I would have no need to show mercy, and because my life was on the line, I chose to use a knife.

  The fight was quick, he lunged at me but I quickly dodged and slashed his neck.

  Simple.

  It seemed he had no combat training whatsoever.

  As the blood dripped from his neck I saw that….thing again, standing over his body.

  The smiling creature.

  The blood from my thumb is running down on the paper while I'm writing this.

  The tournament starts tomorrow, I won’t be updating this until after.