webnovel

Death Game: Beyond Reality

I groggily opened my eyes, expecting the familiar sight of my own bedroom. But instead, I found myself in a strange room. "What the…?" 'Everything had been perfectly normal when I went to sleep—so how did I end up here? Have I been kidnapped?' The thought instantly put me on edge, removing any trace of sleep from my mind. Suppressing the urge to sit up, I narrowed my eyes, scanning my surroundings carefully, 'It looks like a warehouse, about fifty square meters, with no windows.' There is an oversized LCD screen on the wall—easily over 80 inches. A coffee table, topped with a few bottles of mineral water. Beyond that, the only furniture in the room is a single couch, with four people lying unconscious around the room’s edges. They all seemed to be asleep. Frowning, I felt an odd sense of déjà vu. 'Is this really a kidnapping? Or have I somehow gotten caught up in some kind of military exercise? A government operation, maybe? Or…' "Seems appearances can be deceiving. Who would've thought that an ordinary student would be the first to wake up, not to mention remain so calm and feign sleep to assess the situation. Such alertness is rare." "Who's there?" I jerked as a robotic voice echoed in my ear. It hadn’t mentioned my name, but it was clearly talking to me. Sticking to my low-profile approach, I stubbornly pretended I hadn’t heard anything, hoping to sleep my way out of this. "Amazing self-control, Lucas. But there’s no need to keep up the act. As the first to awaken, and someone who’s managed to impress me, I’m inclined to offer you a little reward." At this point, I could hardly keep faking it. Reluctantly, I sat up, my gaze locking onto the source of the voice: the television screen on the wall.

DarkTales · Game
Peringkat tidak cukup
28 Chs

Joining Miyamura Dojo

The two of them stood on the mat, a few paces apart, squaring off in silence.

After a few seconds of eye contact, Chozen sprang forward, closing the gap in the blink of an eye. His right hook came in heavy, aiming straight for Akira's temple.

Akira took a step forward, his left hand clawing for Chozen's right arm, while his right palm flashed diagonally toward Chozen's neck.

Chozen reacted fast, pulling back his arm just in time to intercept Akira's strike. Akira, undeterred, switched from a chop to a grab, stepping forward with his right foot to press against Chozen's calf.

Chozen grimaced in pain but didn't back down; instead, he roared and drove his fists forward, forcing Akira to step back. Seizing the moment, Akira hooked Chozen's leg with his right foot and twisted, flipping Chozen's six-foot-three frame to the ground with a thud.

'Impressive!', The entire exchange ended in a flash, leaving me wide-eyed, 'This is exactly the kind of skill I wanted to learn.''

"Two years ago, it was like this, and now it's still like this. President, your moves are still beyond me," Chozen said with a wry grin as he picked himself up, rotating his joints to shake off the impact.

Akira laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "You've improved a lot, Chozen. This was just a demonstration. So, Lucas, any questions? If you like, I can spar with you for a hands-on example."

I waved him off. "No need, President. I have seen enough for now. I'd like to join the club and start learning, though I might not have a ton of time for all the club activities."

Akira grinned. "That's fine. Another member is always a plus. Ron here can help you with the sign-up paperwork, and after a warm-up, we'll go over some basic techniques."

And that's how I officially joined the Taichi Club—the first club I've joined since starting college.

Ron, who handles club paperwork and daily operations, is a veteran martial artist himself.

He went over the basics with me, covering everything from stretching, stances, leg and arm conditioning, to stamina training. Each part of the body gets trained individually, with routines for strength, endurance, and muscle control.

The entire overview left my head spinning. I never realized that martial arts could be so intricate and meticulous.

Ron proudly informed me that all these training methods are essential for any serious martial artist and that before Akira took over as president, such a systematic curriculum wasn't even offered. But, of course, in a club setting, there are inherent limitations; Akira could only simplify the basics for club members.

I couldn't help but suspect that Akira's commitment went beyond just spreading traditional martial arts—maybe he wanted to build connections and reputation for his family's martial arts school.

After all, Coastal University is one of the top universities in the country, and having alumni ties could mean future business.

After the club session, Akira, Chozen, and I took a taxi to Miyamura Martial Arts Academy. A few minutes later, we arrived in a bustling commercial area in eastern Greenfield, stopping in front of a grand martial arts hall with a traditional aesthetic.

I got out, looking up at the dark red wooden doors framed by dignified stone lions. Neatly laid blue-gray tiles lined the roof, culminating in intricate, winged eaves. Above the entrance, a heavy black plaque read, "Miyamura Taichi."

"President, your martial arts school has a vintage feel to it. Is this a dougong design? Impressive craftsmanship."

"Oh, you know about dougong? It is indeed. My grandfather spent a fortune to hire an ancient architecture expert to design it," Akira replied with a chuckle as he led us through an open courtyard.

In the courtyard, a few people in simple white training uniforms were practicing under the guidance of a middle-aged man.

Chozen waved goodbye and joined the class, while Akira led me inside to a side room and invited me to sit.

"Lucas, let me briefly introduce the course options here," he began. "The advanced membership course at Miyamura's Taichi is led by Master Takayashi, my grandfather's disciple and our senior instructor."

"He ranks just below my uncle in skill, serves as an honorary vice-chair of the provincial martial arts association, and is a highly respected figure."

He paused, a bit awkwardly. "Now, you did say you wanted the best instruction possible, but I'll be honest—the price isn't cheap."

I waved him off with a big grin. "As long as I'm learning real, genuine martial arts, money isn't an issue."

Akira chuckled. "Alright then, straight to it. Our advanced membership course runs for three months minimum at 4000 dollar, with six days of training each week."

"If you want to continue beyond that, we offer quarterly, semi-annual, and annual packages, with the annual one priced at 12,000 dollar. The package includes everything—Taichi massage, nutritious meals, medical services, and all equipment usage."

"Of course, given the commitment, we also offer a three-day trial. If you're not satisfied after three days, you can withdraw, with only a 50 dollar deposit kept. What do you think?"

I nodded, taking a moment to think. It was definitely a hefty price, but if it delivered real value, it could be worth it. "Let's go with the three-month package then. I'll trust Master Takayashi's expertise. What can I expect over these three months? What kind of progress is typical?"

Akira looked me over, considering. "These first few months focus on the basics—shaping, building endurance, stretching joints, and strength conditioning. You'll also learn foundational stances and Taichi forms. Based on your progress, we'll gradually introduce some practical techniques and sparring."

"But if your basics aren't solid, then any combat techniques will be about as effective as a street brawler's tricks."

"Understood! Let's get the paperwork done—I can't wait to get started."

With the help of an assistant, we reviewed the contract, and I signed on the dotted line. Afterward, they took my measurements for a training uniform.

I also met Master Takayashi, a towering, sturdy man with short hair. After introducing me to the weekly training plan, he wasted no time and began guiding me through the basics.

"Master Takayashi… when does the soreness go away?" I asked, wincing as I slowly stretched my legs.

He occasionally adjusted my posture, answering, "Probably around the end of the year. You didn't start with a foundation from a young age or have experience with dance or gymnastics, so your muscles and ligaments are very stiff. We'll need to stretch them gradually to avoid injury."

"Alright, rest for a bit. Next, we're focusing on strength training, hitting shoulders, arms, and back twice each."

By the sixth day of training, I practically lived at Miyamura Dojo, spending at least four to five hours a day there outside of my university classes.

The daily routine was brutal—warm-ups, stretches, strength, and flexibility exercises, along with endless running.

Every night, I'd come home dead tired and crash into bed.

Master Takayashi's full name is Takayashi Kubo. Stoic yet gentle, he demands flawless precision in every movement. For the first three days, I barely managed a 30% accuracy rate.

On top of the daily hour of Miyamura Taichi 24-form practice and stance work, the rest of the regimen felt like a professional athlete's, even a fitness influencer's. Honestly, most of the Taichi moves were just the framework—a mere taste of the real thing.

When I asked about it, Master Takayashi explained. "Traditional martial arts overlap with modern disciplines like sanda, MMA, and others. Strength, speed, technique, agility, resilience—these are goals in all martial arts. Today, we have modern sports science with methods that are healthier and more effective for basic training."

"When it comes to advanced technique, conditioning, mental toughness, and culture, each style diverges. It seems like you're interested in practical combat skills?"

"Yeah, a lot of young people who come here are the same. To be honest, no martial art—sanda, boxing, Taichi—is quick to develop real combat skills. In fact, wrestling and MMA might get you there faster."

"MMA is an exception—it's purely about stripping away the nonessential. But, at the end of the day, brute strength often wins out. Build your strength, stamina, and reflexes, and even raw fitness can make you a formidable opponent. Or at least make running away an option."

Master Takayashi assured me that once I had the basics down, he'd start introducing more intense sparring.

"Sparring is the most grueling yet anticipated part for most students. It's the payoff for all your hard work, yet it also means willingly facing hits. It's a bit of a contradiction, really. On the upside, it's a chance to build toughness."

Sitting next to Akira, I dug into the academy's nutritious dinner. After what I'd seen and experienced this week, I had to admit—this place might be pricey, but it was worth every penny.

After eating, I waved goodbye to Akira and Master Takayashi and headed home.