Chapter V - Training

When I got back on my feet, it was fairly late already. I had to wait about ten minutes around the forest so I could clear my mind; everything was rather blurry, and my legs didn't cooperate at keeping me up that much.

As I make my way home, guided by the dim lights of the torches illuminating the village, and somewhat intimidated by the angered looks some Vikings cleaning up give me as I walk by, I can't help but feel the worst. The lights on my house are on, which can only mean Stoick is there. Great.

I walked around a forest for hours, survived an encounter with Sans, fainted for who knows how long, and returned home barely able to walk properly. The last thing I need right now is a scolding, which is probably what I'm going to get considering Stoick keeps reminding me of my mistakes, and today's made him pretty mad.

I open the door, making sure it's silent (or, as silent as that old, creaky door can possibly be) enough to make sure dad doesn't notice I'm here. I close it carefully, even though it still makes a deep, but short noise. I freeze for a moment. He's sitting on a seat, next to the warm fireplace. It doesn't look like he noticed me yet, so I can safely go to my bedroom, hide under the covers and never wake up again.

But then, something clicks in my mind. I remember that feeling that floated around me when I found Sans. That feeling of remorse, and even sadness. That regretful hand that prevented me from using the dagger.

I couldn't kill monsters.

Not just Sans. I knew I couldn't kill or even hurt any monster, be it a little Whimsun or that Knight Knight thing that almost kills me. I wasn't ready for such thing. I didn't even see the point. Killing them won't make us better. I need to tell him that I can't kill monsters, even if it has been my dream since I was little. Well, littler.

But his reaction scares me. He never listens, so why should he be fine with this? Stoick always wanted me to be a true Viking, and to be a true Viking you must kill a monster. Kill one in the Kill Ring, to be precise. That's the event that takes place when the students in the training arena win different matches, and when there are two left, they complete one last challenge, and the one who Gothi, the elder, accepts, will be the one to kill the most dangerous monster they have captured so far. Turns out this time it's Undyne, a very big reason not to ever get close to that arena. I feel bad for whoever wins that and has to go against "the un-killable monster", as some Vikings say.

Maybe, just maybe, I can tell him in the morning. I'm really not in the mood to tell him now. I climb up the stairs as fast as I can. I'm almost there, but the relief I felt for a split second fades away as Stoick lifts his head and mutters, "Hiccup…"

I stop, at the edge of cursing. Why does this all happen to me? I never get a single speck of luck, and I think the only time I have actually been lucky was this morning, when I survived an encounter probably no one else would've gone through.

Mostly because they wouldn't have spared that monster.

"Dad! Uh…" Hesitantly, I come down the stairs. I really wish to ignore him and go upstairs, but then again that really isn't the wisest of choices. He would be twice as mad at me for not listening to whatever he has to say. I can see it coming. "Hiccup, you messed up so badly that I will-" blah blah blah. Once you get used to things like these, it doesn't surprise you anymore.

But since he got me, I guess the only way to avoid the incoming scolding is to tell him that I drastically changed my mind.

"I have to, uh, talk to you, dad."

"I need to speak with you too, son." He claps his hand together. He doesn't look angry when I look at him. Not even bothered. Perhaps it wasn't a scolding at all, but better to tell him now. Now that I have the chance.

We both take the same deep breath, and our sentences come tangled together when our words escape. All I understood was 'monsters', which didn't make me feel better. If dad wants to talk about monsters with me, Odin knows how wrong this will turn out. After frowning and saying a simultaneous, "What?", Stoick falters for a moment. "Um, you go first."

"No, no you go first."

The words come out of me before I can stop them. I probably shouldn't have let him get the first talk, but… he probably would've interrupted me anyways. His conversations are always one-sided.

"Alright." He sighs, almost unsure about what he's about to say. "You get your wish. Monster training. You start in the morning."

You're kidding, right?

Yes. It had to be right now. Just right now. I've been wanting to fight monsters (not precisely in the arena though) ever since I was a kid, and now that I don't want to anymore, he lets it out. Fantastic. Simply fantastic. I would've actually cheered and screamed my lungs out in joy if I was the former Hiccup who wanted to kill at least one monster, but this Hiccup wouldn't harm anything.

"Oh, man, I should've gone first." I had an urge to hit myself in the head for being so stupid. If I could go back in time I would've told him everything even if he interrupted me or went hell mad at me. He made a choice, and I know I have to accept this choice no matter what. It's always this way.

I make all sorts of movements with my arms as I hurriedly say, "Cause, uh, I was thinking, you know, we have a surplus of monster-fighting Vikings, but, do we have enough… bread-making Vikings, or small home-repair Vikings-"

"You'll need this."

My speech cuts short when an axe falls into my arms and I gasp as the ridiculous weight pulls me back, almost making me tumble. Did he even hear a word I just said? And I was being serious. I'd rather make bread than kill a monster.

That's it, enough excuses. I need to tell him.

"I don't wanna fight monsters."

The fear on my voice goes past him like nothing, and he laughs loudly, thinking I'm joking or something. I wish he was joking. "Come on, yes you do!" He walks towards the fireplace, slowly, and I can tell he still has a smile on his face. I need him to listen to me more than any other time now. If he includes me on the arena, there would be no way back; if I didn't go, Gobber would personally show up at my house (or wherever I went) and take me there by the ears.

"Rephrase, dad, I can't kill monsters." My voice cracks out of desperation, and I feel a slight anger boiling inside of me when he turns to me with a smile.

"But you will kill monsters!"

"No, I am really-very-extra sure that I won't." The axe threatens to escape my poor grip as I speak, making it even less believable. Suddenly, his expression turns firm, and I know I'm not going anywhere with this. When he looks at me like that, I know this is one of his Do what I tell you or do what I tell you moments.

"It's time, Hiccup."

"Can you not hear me?"

"This is serious, son." Thankfully, he takes the heavy weight away from me. "When you carry this axe, you carry all of us with you." He hands it over to me again, and he fortunately doesn't just throw it into my arms like he did before, giving me enough time to pick it up properly and leave it on a table next to me.

One second I get rid of the burden, the next it's back on my hands as Stoick, correcting my posture, says, "Which means you walk like us, you talk like us, you think like us." If 'think like a Viking' means 'be a murderer', then no thanks, I prefer to think like someone with common sense.

"No more of… this."

Once again, he points at me entirely. I don't think people would find it very funny if I strut around calling them 'Thises'. Then again, if being a 'This' means I'm not someone who kills monsters because they think it's the right thing to do, I actually prefer being a 'This' – as long as people don't remind me constantly.

The grip on the axe loosens as I deadpan, "You just gestured to all of me."

"Deal?"

"This conversation is feeling very one-sided-"

"Deal?"

No, of course there's no deal, but there's no way I can say no to him. I have to accept just because he wants me to. I have to risk my life every day just because he wants me to. Where do I get the part on this? I don't feel like I'm ever allowed to do anything.

"…deal."

He puts a loaded basket over his shoulder, and looks at me for a moment. "Good. Train hard, I'll be back." He walks towards the door, putting on his helmet. "Probably."

"And I'll be here. Maybe."

The door closes, and something begs me to knock something over before I explode.

"Welcome to monster training!"

I stand behind the group as Gobber opens the gate noisily. Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs and the twins are here, carrying weapons as they enter the arena. It's a big and round circle, with a floor made out of wet, slippery concrete. Above the ground is an arrange of metal wires covering the whole arena so the monsters don't try to escape, and metal fences protecting the stages where the Vikings sit on to watch the Kill Ring event without danger.

In the walls at the opposite side of the entrance are located the various protected metal doors which contain the monsters; there are five, and are being slammed. From this distance I can barely hear the muffled voices of the caged monsters yelling furiously, knowing at least one of them will break free.

The teens mutter something as they look around. It's their first time in the arena, but I've been here a couple of times already, and watched some other Vikings fight against monsters that have already been killed.

"Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it." is all I hear from Astrid as she stops near the center of the ring, and I, pretty much regretting it, come in. I don't get why they want to get hurt. In my point of view, it's not fun at all to get attacked and wounded by a monster. But if they see any sort of fun in that, good for them, I guess.

"Yeah no kidding right?" Everyone turns to look at me, in confusion and pretty much disgust. The last thing they expected was to see me there, and I wonder if they are going to kick me out of here even before we fight the first monster. "Pain. Love it."

"Oh, great, who let him in?" Tuffnut comments as his shoulders drop with disbelief. Quite a great welcoming, huh? That's how I will be treated every day; perhaps even worse each day, since I know I'm going to mess up badly here. I may not want to hurt monsters, however they are anything but going to notice that because, first, they are mad for being caged and used to train, and second, because they are going to be constantly attacked by selfish teens.

"Let's get started!" Gobber's voice behind startles me, and I look at him with wide eyes. I want to beg him to let me out of here, but I don't want to cause a bad impression. Or, well, a bad-er impression. "The recruit who does best, will get the honor," he does a snapping gesture with his hook hand. "of killing his first monster in front of the entire village."

I see that little smirk on Snotlout's face, and I can predict what's coming. Here come the mocks. "Hiccup already killed Sans, so… does that disqualify him, or?" The twins snort at his lame joke, and even Fishlegs shows a little smile – mostly to look good in front of the others. Astrid does nothing.

"Don't worry." Gobber puts his wide arm around me rather abruptly, and leads me towards the horizontal row the teens formed. "You're small and weak." Thanks Gobber, I say in my mind. "That'll make you less of a target. They'll see you as sick or insane and go after the more Viking-like teens instead."

No wonder why I said he was not good at solving this kind of stuff. He pats my shoulder with a chuckle and shoves me next to Fishlegs, and continues his dialogue. I try not to cheer when he stops making me feel worse.

"Behind these doors are just a few of the many monsters you will learn to fight." He points at each of the doors. They tremble at each slam they get, and lights and a bit of smoke come out of the edges as the captive creatures try their best to burst them open. "Mettaton,"

"AT and DF 47," the know-it-all Fishlegs starts, shifting from one feet to another and clutching the hammer with both of his hands excitedly.

"The Dogi,"

"AT 14, DF 5,"

"Undyne,"

"AT 50, DF 20,"

"Mad Dummy,"

"AT 30!"

"Would you stop that?!" Gobber had finally had enough of Fishlegs' too vast knowledge, and I think we all agree that his kind action of shutting his mouth was pleasant. He rolls his eyes before continuing, this time placing a hand on the last door's lever. Here comes the crazy action. "And, the Gyftrot." He grins, and nobody else except for me seem to realize that he always does this same method with everyone.

"AT 16, DF 8," Fishlegs whispers at the corner of his mouth, as if he knew I was the only one who would listen to him. And that was true, actually.

"Whoa whoa!" Snotlout steps forward, and I have to admit I feel happy seeing that terrified expression on his face. Of course, the fact that now I have to run for my life makes me forget about it quickly. "Aren't you going to teach us first?!"

"I believe in learning on the job."

He pulls the lever, and the doors stay still for a second before they burst open, revealing a very angry Gyftrot that runs towards us. We scatter all around. "Today, it's about survival. If you get blasted," The deer-like monster slips on the wet concrete and hits the wall, but recovers its footing quickly. "you're dead."

Yeah, no kidding.

"Quick, what's the first thing you're going to need?"

"A doctor?" I say randomly. We are definitely going to need one after this, I don't think that monster will be happy until it gives us what we deserve.

"Plus-five speed?" Fishlegs suggests.

"A shield!" Astrid says calmly, prepared to make a run for it. She said it like she already knew what was going to happen. I so wish I had that confidence; I don't know how she can think straight with a very angry monster willing to kill us.

"Shields! Go!"

They are all over the corners of the arena, piled up and individuals. "Your most important piece of equipment is your shield!" I struggle to pick up one; I can't find the right place to hold it as I'm also carrying an axe. It's suddenly lifted up, me along with it, and see that it's Gobber who helped me out. "If you must make a choice between a sword and a shield, take the shield!" He pushes me towards the battle.

The Gyftrot is chasing after Fishlegs, so I have time to hide before I become its next target. As I try to find somewhere safe, I see the twins arguing over a shield – while there are at least five more scattered around them.

"Get your hands off my shield!"

"There's like a million shields!"

"Take that one, it has flowers, girls like flowers."

Ruffnut snatches the shield from her brother's hands and hits him right in the head.

"Oops! Now this one has blood on it."

The Gyftrot makes its way towards them as they keep arguing. For some reason, Ruffnut gave the shield back to Tuffnut so they could fight over it again, when she could have taken it. Small snowballs start floating above the monster as it nears, and it shakes it head to make them go straightly at the bickering twins. A couple of snowballs hit the shield, and send them both flying.

"Tuffnut! Ruffnut! You're out!"

"…what?" they both ask in confusion. The blast was strong enough to actually hurt them. I started to think they couldn't feel pain considering how many times they hit each other.

"Those shields are good for another thing! Noise! Make lots of it to throw off a monster's aim."

We start banging our shields with our weapons, making fairly annoying, sharp noises that come from every direction. The Gyftrot starts to look really dazed, and it shakes from left to right as it tries to regain focus.

"Most monsters have a limited number of shots! How many does a Gyftrot have?"

The clanging stops and the monster starts aiming for a new target, who seems to be Fishlegs.

"Five?" Snotlout asks, running around the arena to avoid being fired at.

Raising his arm in the air, Fishlegs points out, "No, six!" and nods happily when Gobber confirms it.

"Right, six, that's one for each of you!"

The Gyftrot shoots a new horde of snowballs that hit the lifted shield, and almost tear his entire arm off.

"Fishlegs, you're out."

He screeches, and flees away faster than any other time I've seen him run. I hide behind an old rack, which seems to be the only safe place. Coming out now is not the best of choices; there are only three of us left, which means I have more chances of getting killed by that thing.

"Hiccup, get in there!" Gobber growls at me, but several snowballs disintegrate in every direction when they hit the wall as I come out, and I'm forced to go back to my hiding place. Yeah, like if I'm going to go out there now.

The creature doesn't seem to be interested in me, and aims for Snotlout and Astrid instead. He says something to Astrid I can't really hear, but by the annoyed, yet focused look on her face and the flirty look on his I can tell he was trying to get her attention. He didn't get Astrid's, but he got the Gyftrot's. I want to laugh as the snowballs send him flying.

She cartwheels next to me, and I feel protected having her around. "So, I guess it's just you and me, huh?"

"Nope, just you."

She gets out of the way, and I can't help looking at her as she leaves. I look forward just in time to see at least three snowballs coming at my direction, and they knock the shield out of my hands as I try to take cover with it. It rolls across the arena, and I try to catch it. I still have a chance to survive this, I only need the shield.

How many shots does the Gyftrot have left? One hit the twins, another Fishlegs, another Snotlout, one of them missed, and the last one was aimed at me.

…it's got one left. And it's right behind me, I hear its hooves against the cold floor.

"One shot left!" Good time to tell me, Gobber. I'm already running for my life. Crud, the shield rolls away from me and I'm unable to care about it anymore as I look over my shoulder and see the monster hot on my heels.

"Hiccup!"

I try to turn either left or right as I meet a wall on my path, but the slippery floor ruins my turn and I fall against the rocky wall – and directly into the Gyftrot's aim. It shakes its head like an angry bull about to charge, rears on its hind legs, and summons the snowballs as it looks at me.

There's only one difference between my encounter with Sans and my encounter with this creature – the Gyftrot is not going to spare me.

I close my eyes and brace for the imminent blow. That never came. I hear the Gyftrot growl and feel a cold explosion next to me, and look to see Gobber with his hook hand holding the monsters' antlers as it tries to break free.

"And that's six. Go back to bed, ya overgrown deer!"

He spins the monster around and tosses it into its cage, closing it without much effort. I'm unable to move, or even look somewhere else. Going through the same thing twice is not pleasant at all.

"You'll get another chance, don't you worry." Gobber assures the rest. They all huff, and breathe heavily. "And remember." He walks until he's in front of me, and his eyes look at mine in disappointment. "A monster will always, always, go for the kill."

He grabs my arm and pulls me up, and I feel like a ragdoll as everyone leaves. I look at the wall. Each of the snowballs that hit it made a hole in it.

A monster will always go for the kill? There's something that doesn't fit here.