One by one, he began transferring the old items into his inventory, planning to sort and dump them later. Boxes vanished with a flick of his hand, old lamps, picture frames, and broken appliances blinking out of sight.
Within minutes, he'd cleared a decent space in the center of the room—just enough for him to stretch out and get to work.
"Not perfect, but it'll do."
He cracked his knuckles, set his knife aside for now, and stepped into the open area, barefoot, shirtless, ready.
"Okay, now how do I use my supercomputer brain to simulate opponents?" Alex asked, hoping the system would answer.
[Host can adjust and manage his new supercomputer brain. The system AI can be activated and will handle the simulations for the user.]
Since it was linked directly to his abilities, the system responded as soon as he asked it.
"How can I use my supercomputer AI?" he asked again, and shortly after, a soft mechanical voice responded:
{Assistant #0987 activated.}
{User Alex can give any command, and features will be enabled.}
"Change the name to something simple, like Luke maybe," Alex said casually.
{First command received. Changing name. New name is Luke.}
Just then, he heard the assistant's voice, now sounding more masculine.
"I think I'd rather have a female assistant," he muttered.
{Changing name and voice to feminine.}
{New name is Mary.}
"Good name."
"Okay, Mary. Time to run a test. Simulate an enemy army inside the basement. I want to spar with them," he said as he got ready, knife in hand.
{Should I fight you?}
"Yes, fight like how an normal or a trained person would."
{Select difficulty: Easy / Normal / Hard / Nightmare}
"Hmm, let's go with Easy first," he said as the atmosphere started to shift.
{User can save the battle environment for later training.}
"Okay, let's do this," he muttered as the simulation began and he faced down his first dummy army, the knife gleaming under the basement lights.
They weren't real—just illusions his supercomputer brain, or rather Mary, was simulating. But they felt real. Every footstep, every breath, every hostile gaze… it was like standing on a real battlefield.
"Alright then, let's see what you've got," he said as he readied himself.
The simulated enemies charged.
Alex tightened his grip on the knife, his body moving instinctively as the first wave of dummies rushed forward. His heart raced, a mixture of excitement and the adrenaline of the unknown.
He dodged a low swipe from the first attacker, sidestepping just a second too late, and felt the brush of a blade against his side. It wasn't real, but the sting was enough to remind him that his reactions had to be faster.
"Focus, Alex," he muttered to himself, regaining his stance. His mind raced as the simulation's enemies moved in again, a little more coordinated this time. The fact that they were mere illusions didn't dull the challenge—they were trained to simulate a real fight, and they attacked like a well-oiled machine.
He lunged at the next opponent, blade flashing. But his foot slipped just slightly on the cold concrete floor of the basement. The strike missed by inches, and the dummy took advantage, landing a strike on his shoulder.
"Dammit," Alex hissed under his breath. He quickly pushed the pain aside. This wasn't real, but it still counted. The lesson would be valuable.
He adjusted, recalibrating his stance. He wasn't perfect yet, but he was improving. He had to. There was no other choice.
The dummies didn't stop coming.
"Gotta think like a soldier, move like one," he whispered to himself. He pivoted quickly, dodging another strike, and this time he didn't hesitate. His knife slashed through the air, finding its mark. The first dummy crumpled to the floor in a heap of sparks.
That felt better.
He took a step back, eyes scanning for his next target. His movements were smoother now, more deliberate. He wasn't relying on instinct alone anymore. His mind was piecing together patterns, reading the attacks before they came.
The next two rushed him, and he ducked under one's swing, immediately countering with a thrust that took out the second dummy. But just as he stood tall, another one swung at his blind spot, and he barely managed to sidestep it, his side stinging where the strike grazed him.
"Alright, no more mistakes," he muttered. He could feel the sweat beading on his brow. This was real training now—no more "what ifs."
He launched himself back into the fray, faster, smarter. He feinted a high strike to draw one in and then quickly twisted, striking low. One by one, they fell.
By the time the last of the dummies dropped to the floor, Alex was panting, his mind buzzing with the mistakes he'd made and the improvements he'd gained.
"Not bad for a first run," he said, wiping the sweat off his brow and taking a deep breath.
"Mary, reset. I'm going again, and notch up difficley by 10%" he ordered, his voice calm but determined.
"Understood, Alex," Mary responded, her voice steady. "Increasing difficulty by 10%. Simulation resetting."
The room seemed to hum as the virtual world flickered for a split second before realigning. Alex took a deep breath, his focus sharpening as the simulated dummies reappeared, their movements faster and more precise.
"Let's see what you've got," Alex muttered to himself, gripping the knife tighter. He could feel the subtle difference in the air as the simulation adjusted. The dummies now moved with a level of coordination that pushed him to think quicker, react faster.
The first wave came at him with heightened aggression. Alex dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a powerful strike that would've landed square in his chest if he hadn't moved. His heart pounded as he rolled to his feet, immediately swinging his knife in a wide arc to catch one of the attackers. It worked—he connected, the dummy falling to the ground with sparks flying from its simulated body.
But there was no time to celebrate.
Another dummy rushed him from the left, its movement faster than before. He parried its attack just in time, the blade clashing with his own. The force was enough to rattle his arm, but Alex quickly recovered and countered with a precise strike to its torso. It fell, but not without leaving him open to another blow from an incoming opponent.
***
Like it?
Read more at
patreon.com/boring_world