I Woke Up 120 Years After The Apocalypse-Chapter 26: Training

His heart was pounding so hard he felt like it could rip itself out of his ribcage. His vision was so distorted that every object, every person in his field of view seemed multiplied sixfold.

His hands were shaking so violently that he wouldn’t have felt any difference if an earthquake had struck right then and there.

His face was dripping with so much sweat that he could have rehydrated hundreds of dried-out coastlines if he wanted to.

That was the state Akram was in during every training session led by Yashyn the Mirage.

Yet Akram was no slouch physically. He had always maintained a decent level of fitness, careful never to fall into unhealthy habits.

But faced with this kind of training, his abilities were comparable to those of a sedentary person who had never worn a pair of running shoes in their entire life.

Akram was running at full speed, circling the Vulkania base endlessly—no breaks, no pauses, no slowing down.

Yashyn was perched atop the perimeter wall, encouraging his protégé in his own way, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"All right, hop hop hop, move your ass! You’re too slow! You’ve still got sixty LAPS to go!"

Leaning against the railings of the wall like spectators, Elliot and Baron watched their leader on the verge of a hypoglycemic breakdown.

Elliot wore a grimace, clearly feeling sorry for Akram. He whispered quietly to Baron.

"Damn... this is rough. You think he’s gonna survive?"

"I dunno... I just know I wouldn’t wanna be in his place..."

Yashyn shot the two gossipers an intense look, letting out an almost bewildered chuckle beneath his mask.

"Hey, you two... I don’t really get it... Why don’t you join him...? He won’t be able to defend Vulkania on his own, you know..."

The two thugs swallowed hard. Even under pressure, they had already prepared for this possibility before Akram even started his training.

"I’m a logistician! Akram insisted that I stay out of combat—my knowledge is too valuable... I still train regularly though, hey..."

"I was already trained pretty harshly by Barid... and as a scout, I can run very fast, and for a very long time. That’s what I do best."

Baron wasn’t lying. He was clearly one of Vulkania’s greatest assets. Even before the cannibal raid, having him around was a massive advantage.

Yashyn shrugged, almost disappointed.

"Your loss."

Elliot then seized the opportunity to change the subject, stepping closer to the homeless-looking hero.

"Hey, actually... I was wondering, why are you hunting Varog?"

"Huh, sorry?"

"Well... why are you hunting Varog, exactly?"

"Oh yeah... Aren’t there bounty hunters around here or something?"

"Not really, to be honest... I’ve only met two in my life. One of them being you."

Yashyn let out a long sigh. For the first time, his relaxed and carefree demeanor vanished, replaced by irritation and seriousness—something that could only be caused by the young logistician’s naivety.

He rummaged through his poncho, muttering unintelligible words behind his mask. Eventually, he pulled out an animal-hide parchment and handed it to him.

Elliot unrolled it. With every inch he read, his eyes widened more and more.

***

[WANTED NOTICE]

[DEAD OR ALIVE]

Name: Varog the Terrible

Warlord of the Western Cannibal Tribes

Crimes: Cannibalism, mass murder, terrorism

[EXTREMELY DANGEROUS INDIVIDUAL]

[BOUNTY: 200,000 SCRIPS]

***

"Oh holy shit..."

As they were in the middle of their discussion, as if to close the show right before Elliot’s eyes, Akram finally reached his limit. His body—having endured so many trials and so much suffering—could no longer withstand the special bounty-hunter training.

He collapsed straight down, face-first, onto the sandy ground of the arid Varang steppes.

"Oh holy shit..." Yashyn muttered in turn.

Subliminal images disrupted the deep sleep of the young Vulkan leader.

Images of himself, locked inside the cryopod, witnessing kidnappings, murders, and thefts.

Then one final image slammed into him—Emy Krovsky, screaming straight at his face.

"AKRAM!"

Akram jolted awake, his heart pounding violently, his forehead slick with sweat. He slowly regained his bearings, scanning his surroundings.

He recognized the room—he was in the infirmary. In the bed next to him lay Runa, still deeply asleep.

Finally, his gaze landed on the Screamer who served as his personal trainer: Yashyn.

Akram startled again.

"Hey, that’s not very nice... I wear a mask precisely to avoid situations like that," Yashyn grumbled, clearly annoyed by the young Vulkan’s survival reflex.

"Sorry... I honestly didn’t expect to see you by my bedside..."

"Well damn, even nicer. What kind of heartless bastard do you take me for?"

Akram let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his head.

What the hell does that mean?! The little shit... Yashyn thought, his forehead vein bulging.

"How long have you been here?" Akram asked, concerned.

"Not as long as her," Yashyn replied, nodding his chin toward Akram’s left.

Turning his head, Akram saw Leyla, peacefully asleep, her head resting in her arms beside the bed.

Akram smiled softly, relieved to see that she still cared about him.

Oh, you don’t jump this time, asshole? Yashyn thought, his veins nearly popping.

Yashyn sighed as he stood up, bracing himself against the bed and deliberately shaking it to wake the peacefully sleeping Leyla.

"Anyway, we’re back to training tomorrow, lil’ bud. You’d better be in shape," he said before making himself scarce.

Leyla slowly woke up, stretching her limbs toward the ceiling.

Akram watched her silently, saying nothing, simply observing her.

Leyla eventually opened one eye, directing her gaze toward him, then let out an exasperated sigh.

"You’re creepy sometimes, Akram."

"Huh? Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you..."

"Is that why you’ve been avoiding any possible interaction with me since our last conversation?"

Akram lowered his gaze. He wasn’t ready to face Leyla. Since their last discussion, he had only tried to give her space—and yet, even that, he seemed to have failed at.

"Look at me, Akram."

He didn’t comply immediately, keeping his eyes fixed on his hands resting atop the ragged sheets typical of the infirmary beds.

"Look at me, I said."

He finally lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Leyla’s almond-shaped, hazel-colored eyes.

Unlike last time, he no longer felt that hatred overflowing from her gaze when she had awakened and returned to herself.

"You see it, don’t you?"

Leyla took a deep breath and gently placed her hands over his. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

She moistened her lips and cleared her throat several times, as if she were about to confess the truth about the universe itself.

"I... I am... I forgive you, Akram."

At those words, Akram’s eyes widened. He remained frozen, speechless, staring into the void.