Training

In the oppressive chamber, shrouded in the eerie light of candles, Alorian stood, and his legs trembled with trepidation. He dared not raise his eye, for fear of the unknown that lay before him.

His emotions were a maelstrom of anxiety, a turbulent blend of the fear of failure and the dread of the ominous aura emanating from the enigmatic Obsidian Sage Order. An aura that seemed to possess the domination to rend the very fabric of existence.

Meanwhile, the venerable matron remained seated, her demeanor one of serene elegance. Clad in a simple black robe adorned with a myriad of golden talismanic symbols that seemed to dance in the candlelight, she appeared to be a living enigma. Her hand, clutching a weathered scroll, resembled the skeletal remains of some arcane creature, with emerald veins branching out in a mesmerizing pattern.

At last, she shifted her countenance toward Alorian, her stare as cold as the abyss, scrutinizing the young man. Their eyes met, and Alorian's inner turmoil deepened as he found himself under the attention of Reverend Elena.

With an air of regime, she rolled the scroll shut before rising on her feet, a movement that sent a shiver down Alorian's spine. He, in his consternation, took a hesitant step backward, retreating from the revelation.

"I see no difference from Artonius," Reverend Elena intoned, her voice a subtle, thunderous resonance that echoed through the chamber. There was no need for her to raise her voice; her words carried the weight of the cosmos. "Your mannerisms, your perception of the world – they uncannily mirror his. Although you are his son, the likeness is so close."

She advanced, unhurried, toward the frozen youth, his fear growing with each step she took. Descending the stairs with otherworldly classiness, she maintained a solemn expression, her stare remaining fixed on him.

"The Prana of Artonius that courses within you holds an essential role, it appears," she remarked, her words hanging in the air like a riddle. "It endows you with the remembrance necessary for your success."

When the elder sage finally came to a halt before Alorian, he mustered the courage to seek clearness, to ascertain his fate. "Does this mean that I have passed?"

A moment of contemplative silence ensued, broken by the sound of Reverend Elena's measured breath. Her eyelids fluttered closed momentarily, and then she spoke, her words laden with astral significance, "From now on, dedicate yourself to the Second Trial. Martial arts shall become your crucible, forging you against the omnipresent dangers that beset our realm."

With an ephemeral twinkle of exultation in his eyes, Alorian's uncontainable happiness surged. He was on the verge of leaping for euphoria, but he suppressed the impulse with all the strength at his command. Drawing a deep breath and striving to regain his composure, he declared, "Very well, Reverend Elena. I shall devote myself to this endeavor!"

Reverend Elena remained motionless, her expression devoid of emotion as if she were an entity untouched by feeling. Her weathered countenance exuded an undeniable aura of authority as she spoke, "Tell me, have you, from the visions you've witnessed, averted any of them?"

Alorian flinched and widened his eyes, unprepared for such a question from the elder. The young, curly-haired boy bowed his head, reflecting on the challenges he had faced, acutely aware that he might not have accomplished much. He had only confronted his fear concerning Artonius, but little else.

The downfall of Aliron, the presence of Althea, Herich's relationship with the Emperor, and the plight of Amarta had all rushed through Alorian's thoughts. He froze at that moment, his chest constricting as he realized that such events could occur at any time as long as Amarta remained in the palace. With profound concern, he looked up and met Reverend Elena's gaze.

"Respected Elder... my mother, I must return to the palace!" the young man exclaimed, his demeanor suddenly frantic. "My mother may not be safe there!"

"I understand," the old woman attempted to reassure Alorian, offering him some certainty. "We will check on Amarta, and you do not need to come with us."

"But, I want to know what's really—"

"Out of the question," Reverend Elena interjected with her heavy and commanding voice, silencing the young man. "This is an order. We don't have much time, and returning to the castle would slow you down."

"Believe in me, child," Elena drew nearer to Alorian, her intense gaze seeming to pierce to the very core of his soul. "We will ensure your mother's well-being. For she holds the world's secrets within her womb."

The elder of the Obsidian Sage Order passed Alorian, who remained in a reverent bow, keenly observing their exit from the chamber. But, Elena halted, her voice, a subtle echo that resonated with a weighty admonition, "In your stubbornness, everything will fall apart that we cannot trail back."

Alorian's countenance fell into a bottomless of contemplation. How could he have remained blind to the visions that entangled Amarta's fate? Seven months had elapsed since his departure, leaving his mother alone in the castle, rendering it impossible for him to casually dismiss her condition, despite her assurances of well-being in her letter.

However, the revelation of Herich's rise to the position of regent, effectively ruling in the Emperor's stead, lent credence to the accuracy of the visions he had beheld. This conspiracy had not only sundered his life but also cast his family into the abyss of anguish. If those visions were absolute, had Amarta been concealing the depths of her struggle from him?

His reflection lingered in profound silence, an isolated figure lost amidst the magnificence of the hall. It was only when an existence beside him disturbed his reverie that he was awakened from his thoughts. Master Mahendra, realizing the young man's disconnection, attempted to engage his attention, a futile endeavor amid the tumultuous currents of fate.

"Have the two of you been mindful of this training?" the elder's voice boomed, laced with a tempestuous rage.

Alorian, still in a daze from his earlier thoughts, turned to the brown-haired man beside him, equally flustered. He was Charles, a friend Alorian had met just a day ago when he had first entered the martial arts class. With an awkward blend of nervousness, Charles responded, "Yes, Master... I've been attentive."

"What about you, Prince of Caeloria?" Master Mahendra emphasized Alorian's noble title, invoking a minor chuckle from some of the students who deemed him inexperienced.

Alorian was utterly unsure of how to respond, unable to string together a coherent sentence as he had only observed the technique briefly and had not seen it through to the end. Nervously, he stammered, "Uh, I was—"

"Come here! Both of you!" Master Mahendra's command resonated throughout the open hall, where mats lay scattered. "I want both of you to demonstrate this technique."

Alorian and Charles exchanged glances, and the young man with black hair whispered, "What do we do? I don't remember the whole technique!"

Charles retorted in a hushed tone, "Let me handle this, and you strive to follow suit."

Master Mahendra, stepping into the center of the area, instructed them, "Why are you still over there? Come here now!"

The assembled students stood still, observed by numerous eyes, including Isvhara's, who had grown increasingly concerned about her brother's condition. With each passing day, Alorian seemed to lose focus, especially after the first trial, becoming more introspective and withdrawn than usual.

As they reached the center of the area, atop the woven mats, the two young men locked eyes. Alorian's emerald irises met Charles's hazel ones before they exchanged formal respect. Alorian worked to steady his breath, knowing well that this technique held the strength to calm and focus his mind.

Both their hands were set before their chests, the right fist clenched while the left stood erect, the two hands touched each other. With care, Alorian and Charles bowed, bending at the waist before assuming substantial stances. Alorian followed Charles's lead, at least possessing some familiarity with the technique, ensuring they wouldn't bring shame upon themselves.

"Begin!" Master Mahendra's authoritative voice marked the beginning of their activity, and the two individuals stepped forward cautiously, meticulously studying the movements they were about to perform.

With astonishing swiftness, Charles launched an attack that took Alorian by surprise. The cadence of Charles's hand movements revealed itself to Alorian, who had managed to thwart several of the strikes with his defensive blocks.

Alorian skillfully evaded the palm strike directed at his chest, executing a deft spin, and replied with a retaliatory elbow strike that connected with precision, squarely on Charles's right shoulder.

This quick exchange of moves created a sudden but necessary distance between the two. The exercise session had escalated in intensity, notably when Charles found himself on the receiving end of Alorian's counterattack, leaving him somewhat bewildered. It was as though he had been taught by an innate reflex, performing fluid, error-free maneuvers.

Nevertheless, the session was far from over. They needed to showcase the technique known as the Stone Breaker Strike, and between Alorian and Charles, they had yet to find the perfect harmony to execute it. Alorian, against Charles' advice, would demonstrate the technique, was swept away by the remembrance of martial arts and decided to immerse himself in the flow.