Chapter 588: Make Me
Chapter 588: Make Me
The Olympus Rising training facility looked like someone had weaponized a luxury spa.
Marble floors. Gold trim. Equipment that probably cost more than my entire childhood neighborhood. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined every wall, which meant I got to watch myself look poor from seventeen different angles.
Veronica had assigned me a personal training coordinator. A woman named Helena who spoke in corporate jargon and smiled like she was paid by the tooth.
"Your morning session begins with assessment protocols. We need baseline metrics before customizing your development pathway."
"Cool. Where do I punch things?"
Helena’s smile flickered. Just slightly.
"The combat evaluation suite is on level three. I’ll escort you personally."
She walked ahead. Professional heels clicking against marble. Hips moving with the kind of rhythm that suggested extensive practice.
I followed. Observed. Catalogued.
The facility sprawled across five floors. Each one dedicated to a different aspect of Hunter development. Combat training. Aspect refinement. Physical conditioning. Media relations. And something called Brand Integration that sounded like torture with better lighting.
We passed other trainees. Guild members in matching workout gear. A few recognized me from the tournament. Whispers followed in my wake.
Helena noticed.
"Your performance at the Academy has generated significant interest. Several of our senior members have requested observation privileges during your assessment."
"Observation privileges. You mean they want to watch me sweat."
"They want to evaluate your potential alignment with Olympus Rising’s operational philosophy."
"That’s a lot of words for wanting to watch me sweat."
Helena’s smile tightened. She led me into an elevator. The doors closed. Silence filled the space between us.
"Mr. Nakano. May I speak candidly?"
"You can try."
"Guild Master Cabana has invested considerable resources in securing your placement. More than any prospect in recent memory." She turned to face me. Professional mask slipping slightly. "The expectation is that you will justify that investment."
"And if I don’t?"
"Then several people will be disappointed. And disappointment has consequences in this industry."
The elevator opened. Level three. Combat evaluation suite.
Helena gestured toward a reinforced door at the end of the hallway.
"Your assessors are waiting. Good luck, Mr. Nakano."
She left. Heels clicking away. Taking whatever warmth remained in the corridor with her.
I approached the door. Touched the handle.
Nel. Analysis of Helena’s statements.
Elevated stress indicators throughout the conversation. Genuine concern rather than threat posturing. Assessment: She believes you are in over your head and feels obligated to warn you.
Sweet of her.
I opened the door.
The combat evaluation suite looked less like a training room and more like an arena designed by someone with anger issues and an unlimited budget. The floor was some kind of adaptive material that shifted texture based on the assessment requirements. The walls contained embedded recording equipment. Drones hovered near the ceiling, ready to capture every angle of whatever was about to happen.
Three assessors sat behind a reinforced observation window. Two men and a woman. All wearing Olympus Rising uniforms. All looking at me like I was a puzzle they intended to solve.
And in the center of the arena floor, waiting for me, stood Reyna Cabana.
She wore combat training gear. Tight black material that left nothing to imagination. Her crimson hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail. Her broken arm was fully healed now. No more regeneration sleeve. Just bare skin and coiled muscle.
"Surprise."
"You’re my assessment?"
"I volunteered." She rolled her shoulders. Joints popping. "Veronica thought it would be good practice. For both of us."
"Practice for what exactly?"
"Tonight."
She smiled. The kind of smile that promised violence and other things.
The intercom crackled. One of the assessors spoke.
"Assessment parameters: Full contact sparring. No Aspect usage. Duration: Until one participant yields or is rendered unable to continue. Begin on the tone."
A high-pitched sound filled the arena.
Reyna moved.
Fast. Faster than the obstacle course. Faster than our tournament fight. She’d been holding back during the competition. Conserving energy because of her arm.
Now her arm was healed. And she had nothing to conserve.
Her first strike came from the left. A jab aimed at my solar plexus. I slipped it. Barely. Her knuckles grazed my shirt.
"Slow."
"Warming up."
Her follow-up came low. A sweeping kick targeting my lead leg. I hopped over it. Countered with an elbow toward her temple.
She ducked. Came up inside my guard. Her palm struck my chest.
I flew backward. Hit the adaptive floor. Rolled to my feet.
"Nice."
"I’ve been training for this." She advanced. Steady. Controlled. "Watching your footage. Learning your patterns."
"Stalker behavior."
"Competitive analysis."
She attacked again. A combination of strikes and kicks that flowed together like choreography. Each movement designed to create openings for the next. Professional technique combined with natural talent.
I blocked what I could. Dodged what I couldn’t. Let a few shots through to gauge her power.
She hit hard. Harder than expected. Her punches carried weight that belied her frame.
We separated. Circled each other.
"You’re better than the tournament," I admitted.
"I was fighting with one arm."
"And now?"
"Now I’m fighting for something."
She closed the distance. Her speed increased. Each strike came faster than the last.
I stopped blocking. Started redirecting. Used her momentum against her. Turned her power into openings.
My fist connected with her ribs. She grunted. Didn’t stop.
Her elbow caught my jaw. Stars exploded across my vision.
We exchanged blows. Neither gaining advantage. Neither willing to yield.
The assessors watched. The drones recorded. The arena floor shifted beneath our feet.
Reyna drove me backward. Her attacks came relentlessly. No pause. No hesitation.
I let her push. Let her spend energy. Waited for the opening.
It came.
She overextended on a straight punch. Left her centerline exposed.
I stepped inside. Grabbed her wrist. Pivoted. Threw her over my hip.
She landed hard. The floor absorbed some impact. Not enough.
I followed her down. Pinned her wrist. Put my knee against her stomach.
"Yield."
She laughed. Breathless. Sweat dripping down her face.
"Make me."