Weak Generation

Alorian, the man with disheveled black hair, maintained a vigilant watch over Charles. It seemed as though he possessed insight into what had bewildered the brown-haired boy, in response, Alorian acknowledged this with a subtle smile, signaling that this exercise transcended the mere display of techniques.

The unforeseen nature of the plan elicited a derisive snort from Charles, injecting an element of complexity into the event. Yet, Alorian's dedication heightened its allure, underscoring the gravity of the situation. Charles understood that he needed to summon his utmost resolve on this occasion.

Once again, the two individuals advanced with resolute intent, their keen gazes scrutinized by their peers. Their hands extended forward, poised in a defensive stance. Then, Alorian's foot swiftly glided forward, a prelude to an impending assault.

In that instant, Charles experienced a flinch but endeavored to maintain his composure, deciphering each strike Alorian unleashed. The precision in the hand movements of the black-haired youth was remarkable, and Alorian inexplicably sensed a fluid connection with every combination he unleashed, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him.

Were it not for the remembrance of Artonius, it would have been inconceivable for Alorian to exhibit such prowess. He had commenced his martial arts training just a day earlier, making it highly implausible that the young man's actions were merely fortuitous. Even when Charles grasped his hand, Alorian vaulted into the air, executing an agile twist.

Yet, Charles had foreseen that when Alorian aimed a kick at him, the young man astutely intercepted Alorian's leg. The precision in his hand movements created a notable vulnerability for Alorian, an opening that Charles masterfully seized and exploited to the maximum extent.

With swiftness, Charles executed a sweeping maneuver, targeting the sole support that sustained Alorian's balance. It wasn't long before Alorian crumbled to the floor, prompting the spectators to erupt in exuberant cheers. The spectacle of the battle proved highly entertaining, particularly due to the unexpected turn in the confrontation between Alorian and Charles.

Amidst the ongoing phenomenon, the Prince of Caeloria, still grinning, remained seated on the floor and commented, "You've made this more complicated."

"Didn't you start it?" Charles responded by extending a hand, offering to help Alorian back to his feet. Alorian accepted the gesture, but their exchange was cut short by Master Mahendra's stern interruption, his voice resonating loudly in the open hall.

"Take your training seriously!" Master Mahendra interrupted, his voice resonating loudly in the open hall, where other students from outside were also watching. "You haven't demonstrated the Stone Breaker Strike technique!"

"Forgive us, Master!" Charles replied, lowering his gaze, and Alorian followed suit. "We'll strive to find the right moment."

Indeed, the man was right that the technique required momentum to be executed perfectly. Since Alorian didn't understand the technique, Charles had to push the training and force Alorian into a defensive position. Because the technique was about breaking guards.

They bowed again as a sign of respect, and unexpectedly, Charles quickly launched an attack that left Alorian breathless. The young man's reflexes were still good because he managed to withstand several strikes from Charles's palm until Alorian raised both of his hands in front of his head.

That's when Charles demonstrated the Stone Breaker Strike technique. He delivered a chopping attack to the side of Alorian's defense, followed by a similar move with his left hand. This made it difficult for Alorian to focus forward, and Charles began lowering his body, then launched an elbow strike upwards, right between Alorian's walls.

Seeing the opening, the brown-haired man launched a chopped motion from top to bottom, shattering Alorian's fort as his hands were now spread wide. This was the moment when Charles executed the combination of techniques flawlessly.

He struck both of his palms on Alorian's chest, making the young man stagger back a few steps. When the man looked forward again, he was greeted by a kick from Charles, causing Alorian to be sent flying and crashing to the floor with a painful groan.

Cheers erupted at that moment, with other students shouting in excitement over this training that they found so captivating. Isvhara, who witnessed her brother lying on the floor, just shook her head and sighed, feeling embarrassed because Alorian couldn't perform the technique at all.

He ascended, only to be met by the watchful eyes of his fellow students, who had previously been a cacophonous crowd but now sat in silence, as though a thousand tongues had been stilled. For a student of Alorian's stature, the presentation of incompetence weighed heavily and made Master Mahendra's face disappointed.

"Come here, Alorian," the old man's order was obeyed promptly, bringing Alorian to a standstill beside Charles.

"I've observed you in this contemplative state twice in succession," Master Mahendra proclaimed, eliciting Alorian to lower his face. "If you do not take this class seriously, it may be best for you to return to your dwelling."

"Your proficiency in the technique is of secondary concern, but disregarding my words is inexcusable," the Master continued, placing his hands behind his back. "Were you not schooled in etiquette within the palace?"

Before Alorian could respond, the elder continued, "Oh, I forgot, being the Prince of Caeloria, perhaps such matters hold little importance for you, is that it?"

This unexpected castigation left the black-haired youth dumbfounded, scarcely able to believe that Master Mahendra would speak so, especially in the presence of a multitude of mute onlookers. It was an undignified reprimand, casting him into the abyss of humiliation.

Alorian, choosing the path of silence, refrained from reacting to the Master's words, understanding that doing so would only exacerbate the situation. He was already burdened by a collection of problems, encompassing not only the palace and the trials but also the ceaseless perplexities of his visions. Coupled with this unexpected ordeal, Alorian was intent on preventing an undue escalation.

"No wonder Caeloria is mired in turmoil," taunted the voice, and Alorian's gaze lifted to meet Master Mahendra's. "For Artonius has bestowed the throne upon the likes of you—a weak generation."

Isvhara narrowed her eyes, her brow furrowing in response. Something was decidedly amiss, and for inexplicable reasons, she discerned that Master Mahendra's demeanor did not befit a true Master at the White Paradisaea School. Particularly given his month-long tenure in the role and his non-Caelorian origins.

For now, she hoped that her brother could exercise restraint in the face of such shame. Alorian, who remained fixated on Master Mahendra, endeavored to avert an eruption of anger, mindful of Master Vedana's counsel that mastery lay in the management of emotions in circumstances that permitted it.

***

The cacophonous screech of the train's wheels grated on the ears, gradually stopping the black locomotive, enveloped in a shroud of smoke. At the station, several court members, including Amarta's sisters adorned in elegant red dresses, stood in anticipation.

For reasons unknown, Fiona was among them, awaiting the arrival of arcane figures cloaked entirely in black robes. Their aura sent shivers down her spine, yet Fiona remained unflinching, her azure eyes reflecting resolute determination.

With Maretta by her side, Fiona executed a deep bow as Reverend Elena came right before them. Her frigid, piercing gaze fixed upon Fiona, who met her with resolve. She had a singular intention to convey.

"I know what you seek to communicate, young woman."

Fiona was startled by these words, difficult to draw a breath. The woman then lowered her head, her eyes welling with tears. "Your Eminence, Reverend Elena, I implore you to save my auntie."

Maretta remained silent, her countenance somber, and aware of Amarta's current condition. "Forgive me, Reverend Elena, but there is nothing we can do."

Elena maintained her silence as her regard shifted to the slender woman. Strangely, Maretta's figure resembled Amarta's, full and voluptuous. However, she now appeared unwell. The pressures within the castle had altered her mental state and her shape.

"Tell your husband that I wish to speak with him," Elena insisted in a voice that carried immense weight, yet she did not appear to raise her voice at all. "I have a message from the Emperor."

Anxious footsteps hastened towards the location. The man's expression betrayed fear, and sweat trickled down his forehead. Occasionally, he adjusted his white cravat, straightening his attire that symbolized the royal colors of Caeloria.

"By the damned witch, what is the true message they bear?" Herich shouted to the woman behind him.

Maretta hesitated for a moment before responding, "They hold statements from the Emperor himself. And... about Amarta's state."

Herich halted for a moment, then turned to his wife. "Darn, I knew this had something to do with Amarta!"

Soon, they came before a magnificent and elegant door, revealing three individuals clad in black with hair resembling their age. Herich took a step forward, with several knights shut the entrance, while Maretta remained within the room.

"Are you satisfied with the current situation?" Elena's thunderous words left Herich swallowing hard. He couldn't afford to underestimate the existence of an elder of the Obsidian Sage Order, a woman of immense domination and knowledge.

Stammered, he answered, "I have done my utmost, Reverend Elena."

"But it does not align with the Emperor's message," the old woman reacted while seated in a luxurious chair. "You have failed to suppress the Rebellion. And their numbers continue to swell."

Herich was taken aback, unable to respond because the fact was undeniable. Allowing Reverend Elena to continue, "News of this conflict has reached Avalornia. If this strife continues, Caeloria will weaken, and the empire will fall over into turmoil."

"If you are incapable of serving as regent, the Emperor will alter your role before Caeloria is overtaken," Reverend Elena turned to Herich. "At that time, other kingdoms will not hesitate to seize Caeloria, that because you have severed your ties with them."

Herich was momentarily rendered speechless, unsure of what to declare. His mind was in chaos, especially with the Emperor's threat of dethronement. It left him bewildered, unable to think clearly. He had no choice but to suppress the Rebellion.

"One more thing," the elder with shoulder-length hair rose, approaching Herich and Maretta. "Where is Amarta held?"