Hardcore Training and Unknown Lover

Sage's Champ was a hive of activity, with seven passengers nestled in the back. The tournament was fast approaching, and they couldn't afford to stick to their usual training schedule.

"Dylan said he has arrived. Master asked where we were," Grace announced, her eyes scanning the group chat messages.

Suddenly, Clarke interjected, "Guys, we forgot to bring sticks! We're dead." His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of their oversight.

Sage, who had been leisurely driving to the training grounds, listened to their chatter.

"Sage, let us go directly to the skating ground beside Jusdome, Master is waiting there," Lyka informed Sage.

"Copy," Sage responded, her focus returning to the road.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the skating ground. Sage parked the Champ near where their Master was standing.

"Good morning, Master," they greeted, bowing in unison.

"You all are late. Quickly prepare for warm-up," their Master instructed, his back as straight and firm as ever.

After warming up, they stood before the Master.

"There are tires inside the car, go get it," he ordered.

The tires, remnants from a small truck, weighed between seven to ten kilos.

"Alright, pick it up. I don't care if you carry it behind you, in front, or on your head. Tightly carry it and run three laps. Start!"

The club members were taken aback, all except Sage, Dylan, Brix, and Clarke. The three guys had experienced this stamina exercise before and could only offer helpless smiles. Sage, on the other hand, had regressed after all.

One lap around the roadway of Jusdome was as far as two kilometers.

The Manta Ray Club members could have easily run that lap, if not for the cumbersome tires they were carrying.

They were allowed to pause along the way, but during the three laps, they only stopped six times, twice every lap. When they finally put down the tires, they massaged their sore shoulders and regulated their breathing.

"Oh, we're not done yet. Go run again for two hours," their Master gestured from one end of the skating grounds to the other. The distance was short, but the problem was the dizziness that came from running in circles.

After an hour of running, they heard engines roaring behind them. They glanced back curiously, only to see their devilish Master intending to chase them from behind.

They sprinted like jaguars, and anyone that got left behind from the group would be chased for an entire lap. Sage, the youthful sprinter of the club, had never experienced being chased by a motorcycle. She always stayed upfront.

After two hours, they laughed heartily. They enjoyed this hardcore training because it released all their potential, and they knew it was all worth it.

"It's already noon, go eat your lunch and go to the Claw Hawk Team. Grandmaster Rico invited you to train there. Lead them there, Clarke. You know where it is," their Master instructed before getting into his car and driving away, leaving the club members alone.

Sage turned to the 13 members in front of her. "I can only bring eight people with me. The rest, find your own ride."

"Let those who you brought here ride with you, Sage. But bring Niel with you," Clarke reminded her before turning his back. "Grandmaster Rico's place is in South Ville. You know where it is, right?"

Sage nodded. "We'll eat after we arrive there."

They bid each other goodbye. Her passengers boarded the Champ, with petite Grace taking a seat on the middle floor.

The Claw Hawk Team's training ground buzzed with intensity that afternoon. If the morning session had tested their stamina, the afternoon was all about the thrill of mock spars. Unlike the actual tournament's one-minute each round of three, the Manta Ray Club's practice stretched to three grueling eight-minute rounds. Partners rotated, but always boys with boys and girls with girls.

During Sage's match, her power became unmistakably clear, prompting the club members to suggest her to spar with Clarke and Dylan after a half-hour rest.

Sage pouted; her voice tinged with a playful whine. "Ahhh, I don't want to. Brother Clarke and Dylan are too strong for me. I don't want to get beaten up."

"Trust me, Sage, you're not meant to spar with us girls," Shina insisted, rubbing the large graze on her arm—a mark from Sage's heavy strike that sent the arm armor flying. "Your strikes are too heavy for us to take. Even the new sticks broke every time you hit."

Skeptical, Sage handed her phone to Lyka. "How can that be? Record me then, I'll judge after I see it."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Are you doing secret training when we're not around, Sage?"

Sage shook her head. Today was her third training after regression. She believed she wasn't all that strong, but her sense of judgment for real life situations that included her physical reaction sharpened. Every time they spar, she would calmly observe the situation and formulate an appropriate counterattack. There was also this manipulation technique she learned after a few spars with the legends in Arnis Tournaments.

Humans had this weird thought to hit something within reach, it was an instinctive reaction. Like a few months old baby that had a short attention span to beautiful things. 

That insight had become her mantra after years of isolation: no one can defeat an observant person in battle.

Despite losing to Dylan and Clarke, Sage's performance was remarkable. She defended herself without a break between the two fights, trailing by only a few points. The result surprised everyone, but they didn't dwell on it.

As they left the Claw Hawk Team's training grounds, Brix step beside Sage. "Did you get into QEA?"

"Yep!" Sage beamed. "You've become my senior at school."

"Job well done, Sage! ABM, right? We'll team up a lot for school events." Their high five was a pact of future camaraderie.

Sage played the curious newbie, probing Brix about QEA's traditions. She had once studied there in her past life.

"QEA focuses on academics, but the events are also the most anticipated event in school. You will need to keep an equal balance between the two."

"And social interaction?" Sage asked, her tone flat. She already knew the answer.

"With only an average of 250 students in Senior High, 375 in Junior High, and 900 in Primary and Preschool, we have plenty of chances to interact," Brix reminisced, then shared insights about his experiences. "Miss Aria is our 12th grade adviser; she is strict but also friendly with the rich students. She handled most of the ABM Majors including Finance, Accounting, Management, Marketing, Tax and Policies. You'll interact with her more than any of the teachers in school. She was a COO in her company before she was selected by the Bureau of Education to teach in QEA."

QEA sometimes discriminated against poor people, the good thing was they never showed it upfront.

Well, there was a notable bullying in her memory because of her life status, but the one bullying her had the same status. That girl lived off by leaching and selling her body to her rich boyfriends— just to be called a certified QEAnon.

Sage sighed when the image of the four witches appeared in her mind. She did not want to encounter them again, ever. If she was left with no choice, she would gladly be the devil they feared. A thought came to her mind, "I'd gladly be your karma." She cupped her face and fancied that imagination.

Brix's voice pulled her back. "Are you thinking about Nick?" he asked, noticing her blush.

Sage stopped dead. "Nick? Who the heck is that person?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Long distance boyfriend. He is an architecture student; you bragged about it!" Brix reminded her, exasperation creeping into his voice.

Sage searched her memories but found no trace of him. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to recall who that is."

Brix rolled his eyes, his hands on his waist. "You even told us about your virtual children that calls you 'mommy' and 'daddy'."

Sage recoiled in mock horror. She faked a gagged and exclaimed, "That's so childish! A sixteen-year-old with virtual children. That's disgusting. Who the hell would do that?"

"You, girl," Brix said, pity in his eyes. "You created that situation."

Sage called out the system in her mind, "System! Am I that childish? Why can't I remember about him? Was it because of trauma?"

[Yes, you're childish, host. No, you don't have traumatic memory loss. You lost interest in him after your communication was cut. You still have pictures of him in your old phone, and he chats with you every day. You just ignored it after your regression.]

"May I know what happened to him in the future from my past life?"

As her friends bid farewell, Sage waved until they vanished from sight. "Gah! I'm tired as hell."

[You can use the system search host. His complete name is Nick Johnson Archibald.]

"Never mind! My searches are only for earning money."

She hopped onto her Champ and drove to her mother's house, dismissing any further thoughts of Nick.

At home.

"Ma, I won't be staying here anymore."