As beautiful as the sunrise was, Jericho's heart still felt heavy— his mind still racing uncontrollably.
'We've been here for an entire month. When are we going to begin moving? Why did that child look so much like Sol? Why do I feel like there's a needle being jammed into my neck?'
His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a needle breaking his skin and siphoning blood.
Startled, Jericho fell from the bench onto the green, wet grass below him, almost tumbling off the hill.
Looking up, he saw a man with beige skin and light green scales that covered his neck and the edges of his face. His eyes were dark red with black slits for pupils, his tongue stuck out of his mouth and split in two.
He wore a black turtle neck with matching black slacks and clean dress shoes— his short, dirty blonde hair pranced with the breeze that carried the smell of flowers.
"Cogito, what the hell!"
There was always a smirk painted onto the lizard's face as if he were plotting.
"Did I startle you, Jericho?"
Cogito helped Jericho off the floor and sat on the bench with Jericho sitting down right after.
The wind felt nice on their skin, like a kiss from heaven.
"We're leaving next week, off to one of Cypher's suppliers."
Jericho looked over at Cogito, surprised by his question being answered—It felt as if Cogito could read minds.
"Keep training with Bulford, I'll come for my vile of blood later."
Cogito grinned and looked Jericho straight in the face; his smile was sly, from cheek to cheek.
His cold, scaled hand caressed Jericho's cheek— uncomfortably much.
"You're so fascinating, I can't wait to see what I can do with you."
Not knowing whether to take this as a compliment or a warning, Jericho just forced a crooked smile onto his face.
"Ha ha, thanks…"
Cogito let his hand off of Jericho's cheek and looked up at the sky while kicking his legs back and forth.
"Do you know what the Centrals' goal truly is?"
"I mean, of course, it's power and control, but why? Why would a government already so powerful need even more?"
Cogito smirked before instantly changing the subject, not allowing Jericho to respond.
"Anyways, I still have fermented testicles bathing in their test tubes right now, I wouldn't want them to explode due to my absence. See ya, Jericho!"
He skipped away, waving the syringe filled with Jericho's blood in the air as if he had said nothing of importance.
'What a weirdo.'
Those words left a grueling toll on Jericho as he sat restless on the bench, pondering on what Cogito could've meant—what could lie behind that painted grin.
'I'd never thought that far ahead, the Centrals' true goal could be even more despicable than what I earlier presumed.'
'Cogito definitely knows more than what he is giving. Just who is this scoundrel?'
Jericho didn't have time to waste or sit around thinking about possibilities; he had to get up and train so he could have the power to tear those frightening possibilities down.
Getting up from the bench, he stuffed what Cogito said into the back of his mind to think about and plan for later.
But now it was time to train with Bulford— he needed to get stronger.
The sounds of metal clashing echoed through the arena, with each clink causing sparks to fly in the air.
In the arena, two men were battling, one with an intimidating black greatsword and the other with a short sword.
Blood covered the arena floors with an assortment of guts and body parts lying around the floor.
While in the air, Jericho held the short sword, tumbling back after connecting his first slash against his opponent's arm.
Catching himself from the fall, Jericho took a deep breath as sweat trickled down his face.
"You okay, Bulford?"
The man before him laughed before reassuring Jericho.
"Hah! It was but a mere paper cut to a man like me!"
He towered over Jericho at a staggering 7'4, he was a force of nature not to be reckoned with.
His brown muscles swelled out of his clothing, revealing an extremely hairy chest that matched the beard that covered the lower half of his face.
"You fight extremely well for a blind man!"
Bulford's hearty laugh was heavy and echoed throughout the arena.
"How many times do I have to tell you. I'm not blind."
Jericho sighed in annoyance, throwing his sword across the arena before sitting down on the floor and leaning against a wall.
They had been training for hours, and Jericho only landed a single hit on Bulford, who was wielding nothing but his hands.
Bulford sat next to Jericho, mockingly acting as if he was catching his breath too.
Jericho glared at him.
"I'm better with a gun."
"Well, what will you do when you don't have a gun?"
"Find a gun."
Bulford let out another scarily loud laugh that reverberated throughout the small arena.
"Hah! You're a funny little man, Jericho!"
He paused before continuing, his voice becoming serious and even.
"But if you never learn to fight without only your body, you'll never reach your true potential."
Jericho let out a heavy sigh, diverting his eyes away from the towering beast.
"I guess."
Bulford got up, causing the arena to shake from his size.
"Well, we still have an entire hour left of combat training so…"
Suddenly, a greatsword came crashing down from the air above Jericho.
"Dodge this!"
The greatsword blasted into the ground, leaving a hole within it.
"What the hell!"
Jericho peeked his head from the other side of the greatsword, just barely moving out of the way.
Without any time to keep speaking, Jericho scrambled over to his sword, which was all the way on the other side of the arena.
'Why did I have to throw this hunk of metal all the way over there? I'm AN IDIOT!'
His feet pattered against the ground, and his arms swung frantically around, desperately moving his fastest to reach the sword.
The wind of a steadily approaching object touched his neck. Instinctively, Jericho dropped down, evading the ensuing weapon that threatened to take off his head.
"Ah! That was your first time dodging a beheading blow, little man!"
'I'm not a little man!'
Jericho wasn't allowed to speak; he had to stay focused on what lay in front of him.
He leaped to the floor, rolling and grabbing his blade before feeling another tingling sensation; except this time, the sensation came from above his head.
Just before the behemoth of a blade came into contact with the hairs on his head, Jericho swung his body out of the way.
Using his sword to pivot and redirect his momentum, he swung his lower body towards Bulford.
His feet connected with Bulford's jaw, landing a clean hit on the bestial being.
Hitting the brute felt like slamming your legs into a titanium wall; it sent ripples throughout Jericho's body.
Mockingly, Bulford laughed before grabbing Jericho's legs, his grip resembling that of a world-class sumo wrestler.
Jericho dangled seemingly at the mercy of the brute who held him up in the air by his feet as if he were a pig being processed.
He gritted his teeth so hard his gums began to bleed; he felt defenseless and weak.
"So little man loses again! You put up a better fight this time, though, Hah!"
Bulford continuously mocked Jericho, putting his greatsword to his neck. He got closer to Jericho, putting his face near his.
Jericho's face was red, his brows tensed, and blood dripped from his mouth.
He gripped the great sword with one of his hands, and as he did, his hand was bloodied from the wound.
Jericho used the gash on his hand to splash blood into Bulford's eyes.
Bulford loosened his grip on Jericho and dropped him onto the floor, instinctively rubbing his eyes.
Taking his sword, Jericho jumped into the air, spiraling towards Bulford.
"Little rascal!"
Blindly, Bulford frantically swung his air throughout the air in front of him in an attempt to luckily hit the sly foe.
To his dismay, a blade was already pressing against his neck.
"Not so little anymore, huh?"
Jericho let go of the short sword, dropping it to the floor.
"You're pretty tricks are dishonorable! But effective."
Bulford blindly attempted to place his hand on Jericho's shoulder, but his hand reached nothing but air, and he continued to rest his hand atop the air as if there was someone there.
"Good job, Jericho. I expect much more from you."
Foolishly, Bulford was speaking to a wall, and Jericho sat in the corner to rest until he felt an odd tingling sensation coming from behind him.
Within the same second, a ball made from concrete came hurling threw the wall, colliding with Jericho, leaving him in a bloody pile of guts on the floor.
'Ah, fuck.'