Year 2047

  Month 4

  The Arena

  The Arena, a blank colorless canvas where the mind painted the walls with thought and memories of lessons from trials past.

  Dante thirteen years of age stared at the white window, an action he had done so often that it has now become as natural to him as breathing.

  30

  …

  29

  Dante stared at the hologram counting down.

  "Subject: Dante Mercier. Parameters: Survival.”

  Were written under the numbers.

  28

  How many times?

  How many times have I done this?

  I can’t remember.

  I don’t feel fear, but I am tired.

  So very tired.

  And so…

  Incredibly bored.

  Daily life in the Arena had affected his mind.

  What do normal boys my age think about?

  Last time I was allowed home I watched a show a group of friends were laughing and the girl called the guy a pervert and laughed.

  I wonder what that is.

  …

  When I get out, maybe that’s what I’ll be.

  A pervert, it looked like they were having fun.

  14

  Ah the time is moving so slow.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  I just want to get this over with.

  I’d ask them to hurry up, but no point.

  They just wanted reactions.

  To see mine and to measure them, catalog them, use them to do whatever it is that they do.

  9

  When I get out.

  I’m going to make some friends, yeah that’s what I’ll do.

  Some pretty friends, and a cool one.

  Well, I guess I kinda have one.

  That guy whose parents work with law and stuff what was his name, Lucian?

  Maybe we can try to be friends though, he looks funny big ears and all.

  “Assessment begins in three...two...one...”

  A panel in the far wall slid open.

  From the wall emerged a large dog. It stood at around 80 pounds of muscle. Its ears pointed high as it growled low.

  The dog’s lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing its teeth. Saliva dripped from its jaws onto the white floor.

  Dante’s mind raced through options.

  I can try direct confrontation, but that could be fatal. That thing is nearly as heavy and far stronger.

  The dog circled slowly, eyes never leaving him. Dante moved with it, maintaining distance.

  Slight favoring of the left hind leg. Possible injury or weakness.

  A sharp noise emanated from the walls—a high-pitched squeal that made Dante wince. The dog, however, reacted violently. It lunged forward.

  He barely managed to sidestep the attack, feeling the rush of air as the animal passed him. But the dog was faster, quickly recovering and turning for another attack.

  This time, Dante wasn’t fast enough. The dog caught his arm, teeth sinking through the thin fabric and into flesh. Pain exploded through his limb as he cried out, instantly striking the animal’s sensitive nose with his free hand.

  The dog released him, backing away momentarily. Blood dripped from the wounds in Dante’s arm, painting the former white floor in drops of red.

  I can’t draw this out I have to end it fast.

  …

  My arm.

  Got it!

  Dante took his shirt off and began to wrap it around his bleeding arm.

  The dog charged again. This time, Dante was ready. He blocked its bite with his wrapped arm.

  He drove his other hand forward, straight for the eyes. The beast howled and recoiled, pawing at its face.

  Dante took advantage of the opening and closed in while the dog was disoriented. He grabbed its collar, trying to control its movements, but the animal was too strong, twisting violently in his grip.

  The dog lunged for his face, and Dante lifted his leg and drove his knee into it forcing is jaw closed.

  The dog forcefully jumped backwards, pulling Dante with it and causing him to lose balance.

  Damn almost had it.

  It opened its mouth once more, its jaws snapping inches from his throat as Dante held it back with his wrapped arm.

  This hurts.

  A lot.

  Dante headbutted the animal, the attack losing its grip on his arm long enough for him to drive his elbow down. The dog was stunned, and Dante continued his relentless assault again and again, into the back of its skull.

  Until it finally stopped struggling.

  Dante took deep breaths as he laid down staring at the white window.

  Once again.

  As he thought to himself, perhaps as often as he has stared at the window.

  I really hate this place.