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Condemned To Death
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11th September, 1507
Seren moved forward with resolve, his silver hair catching the wind.
Kai, Lorien, Finn, and the Elders watched him closely. They knew this youth was more than he appeared. The stars above hung silent over the plains, a single colossal Luminar tree standing as the only witness.
With every step Seren took across the field, the tension among the gathered youths grew. They all had different reasons for being there—some wanted to see him fall, others were eager to witness his true strength, and a few were simply there for the spectacle. Yet, they all expected something from Seren.
And he was about to deliver.
Seren stopped just short of the white dandelions, waiting for the minotaur to appear.
In an instant, the colossal minotaur materialized five meters away, its massive form casting a dark shadow over the field. But this time, there was no wild bloodlust in its eyes. Instead, a calculating intensity had replaced it, a gaze that pierced through Seren as if searching for any sign of weakness.
This beast now had intelligence!
It had survived and triumphed in ninety battles before this. Its body bore the scars of experience, its mind sharpened by the wisdom of a seasoned warrior.
This just increased the difficulty of the match to an unprecedented degree. Seren could no longer rely on old strategies. This was a different challenge altogether—one that demanded more than brute strength.
The minotaur's gaze shifted to the crowd, noticing the thick anticipation that surrounded the crowd for this challenger. This made the minotaur even more wary of its opponent as it then lifted it's axe and pointed it at Seren.
Seren read the minotaur’s movements as a challenge, a call to reveal his hand. He scoffed indifferently before drawing a green rope with a thin metal wire from his sleeve.
It was a whip.
...
Elara stroked his chin thoughtfully at the sight of Seren’s weapon, a smile playing on his lips. Beside him, Darius frowned, lost in thought, while Kaelen watched Seren with an outwardly casual but keen interest.
In the crowd, confusion rippled as they tried to understand Seren's choice of weapon. Some speculated he intended to mimic Lorien's tactic of binding the minotaur, while others puzzled over the metal wire. Lorien, in particular, found himself wrestling with conflicting thoughts, his brow furrowed as he tried to piece together Seren's strategy.
And then it hit him. The realization of Seren's plan widened his eyes in disbelief. He couldn’t accept it to be possible. Yet, doubt crept in, unsettling his own expectations.
Seren began to maneuver the whip, every movement precise, deliberate. With each flick of his wrist, the whip traced a slow, hypnotic arc through the air. His left hand gripped the thin end while his right controlled the whip, building momentum.
The minotaur, watching, felt its initial apprehension give way to mild annoyance. It had faced stronger, swifter opponents and now it felt stupid for taking his opponent seriously. It doubted that Seren’s tactics would succeed against its strength.
But still, it remained cautious of caught up in the rope and repeating the same tragedy as it's fight with Lorien.
The minotaur advanced with an air of nonchalance, not at all worried about the fight.
As the gap between them narrowed, Seren’s whip seemed insignificant against the minotaur’s towering presence.
Lorien watched in disbelief at the minotaur's nonchalant behavior, mentally screaming at the minotaur.
‘No! No! What are you doing?! Rush forward, or you’ll die!’
Seren counted silently as the minotaur drew closer.
‘Four feet.
Three feet.
Two feet.
One foot.’
Just as the minotaur reached the attacking range of the whip, it lunged forward instantly with a crazed expression, trying to catch the whip and pull Seren into range to butcher him.
But Seren, spinning the whip above his head, suddenly increased the speed of its revolutions.
The minotaur advanced, unconcerned, until it was within striking distance.
Then, in a flash, Seren executed a 360-degree spin, his body moving with the whip. When he stopped, his arms halted with it and with a single, enormous counterclockwise swing, he unleashed the whip.
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The end of the whip, slow to respond to the sudden change in direction, seemed slow and easy to catch. Just as the beast reached out, the whip reversed direction, and the thin end disappeared.
SNAP!
The whip's snap echoed across the field as the thin green end broke off, the metal wire falling to the ground.
The minotaur noticed his opponent’s weapon broke and this made it curl its lip all the way up to his eyes, giving off the appearance of a demon. It was ready to rush forward and savour its final victim of the day. But then, it felt a sharp pain in its chest.
It looked down and saw a small crack in the blue gem embedded in its flesh.
Crack
More cracks appeared on the jewel before it completely shattered, crumbling to dust.
As the minotaur felt the gap in its chest, its emotions were filled with confusion as it tried to understand what had just happened. The confusion only lasted a second before a surge of bewildered fury coursed through its veins, mingling with the bitter taste of humiliation.
With a deep snarl, it charged at Seren, fury driving it forward. Its axe swung crazily, aiming at Seren’s neck.
But Seren remained still, eyes locked onto the approaching threat.
Just as the axe was about to make contact, at the last possible moment, the minotaur’s weapon disintegrated into radiant particles along with itself, leaving only a trail of fading sparks.
Seren stood untouched, his gaze shifting to the Luminar tree. The ancient behemoth loomed in the distance, its gnarled branches reaching toward the heavens, bearing witness to the unfolding drama below.
‘A man cannot be defeated by a mere beast’
As Seren retrieved the metal wire from the dusty ground, the crowd fell into a stunned silence. Their eyes locked onto him, a mixture of disbelief and fear clouding their faces. Words escaped them, their minds struggling to grasp the extraordinary feat they had just witnessed.
The secret of Seren's victory lay in the lightning speed of his whip—moving at velocities that defied logic. A 12-foot whip, wielded with the right technique, could reach an astonishing 900 miles per hour, translating to 1300 feet per second.
Per second!
This wasn’t mere brute strength at work; it was pure physics. With each swing, the energy of motion concentrated into a tiny point at the whip’s tip transformed it into a weapon of unparalleled precision and lethality.
At such speeds, Seren’s strikes were invisible, their trajectory impossible to predict, and he could change their direction in an instant. But harnessing this weapon’s full potential wasn’t a matter of talent alone—it required relentless practice, years spent mastering every nuance.
For Seren though, this was nothing.
From the many lives he had lived, he could be considered a grandmaster and an unparalleled genius in all types of weapons and martial arts.
Another factor that played into Seren's victory was his request to Elara to go last. Elara had agreed, not realizing that this position would actually be to Seren’s advantage, given the evolving nature of the minotaur’s intelligence. By the final match, Seren predicted, the minotaur would be wise enough to avoid rushing blindly into the fight, instead waiting for its opponent to make the first move.
If the minotaur had charged at him from the start, Seren would have been in real danger. A whip isn’t a close-range weapon, and outrunning the beast to gain distance would have been impossible. But Seren had gambled on the minotaur's intelligence, and it had paid off.
For the last eighty battles, Seren had gathered grass to craft the whip and convinced Lorien to lend him the metal wire, knowing that grass alone couldn’t withstand the whip’s peak velocity without snapping.
Truly, without even breaking a sweat, Seren had completely dominated the arena and caught everyone off guard with his subtle play which only a few understood.
...
Seren walked past Elara, who wore a faint smile laced with amusement. Elara’s voice dripped with mockery as he spoke, “You tricked me good with that fake request of yours, but I’ll let it slide since you didn’t break any rules.”
Seren continued walking, ignoring the remark. Elara’s words were a playful acknowledgment of his cunning work.
Of the ninety-one contenders, only twenty-one passed by touching the gem, and just three had managed to shatter it. Finn, with his golden spear and outside assistance. The girl with the bob cut using a sacrificial limb. And Seren, with his cunning and resourcefulness, having crafted the perfect weapon for the task.
As Seren approached Lorien, the gravity of his success hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over his ally’s incredulous gaze. Without a word of thanks, Seren handed back the metal wire, his actions speaking louder than any words as he retreated to a secluded corner.
Elara, with hands in his pockets, finally announced, “The second phase of the Realms Rite will begin now. It is the assessment of your inherent aptitude. Inherent aptitude determines how much your soul and body resonate with Heaven’s essence. Even if you beat the minotaur, you might not become a Lexarch if your body or soul doesn’t resonate. But don’t worry, the chances of that are less than twenty percent.”
He continued, “All of you are to head to the base of the Luminar tree. Grab a single white dandelion, put it in your mouth, and place your hands on the tree’s bark. Your body will emit light in one of the following grades:
Ignis.
Lumina.
Arcana.
Apex.
Ethereal.
In our world, Lexarchs wield unimaginable might by manipulating elements, laws, and concepts. Each grade shows how much of this power you can tap into—from the basic Ignis to the pinnacle of Ethereal. The scale ranges from 10% to 100%, broken into tiers: 10-20%, 20-40%, 40-60%, 60-80%, and 80-100%.
Your grade isn’t just about potential; it’s a mix of genetics and luck. Those from common households will likely be in the lower tiers, while kids from Lexarch families are primed for the upper echelons. Genetics, luck—they both shape your future.”
With a sinister smile, Elara added, “Let’s see where destiny takes you.”
His words sent ripples of uncertainty and anxiety through the crowd. Faces twisted in turmoil as each person grappled with their own limitations.
For those with no strong lineage, despair gnawed at their hearts. Some sought comfort in loved ones, their anguish clear on tear-streaked faces, while others withdrew into their thoughts, lost in their own worlds.
But amidst the turmoil, a spark of determination burned in Seren’s eyes. To him, this wasn’t the end—just a detour on the path to greatness. Seren was an orphan from a common family, and his chances of a high grade were slim.
“Um Sir, what do those who broke the gem get?”
The girl with the bob cut had woken just before Elara’s speech, now standing on her feet despite missing her left arm.
Elara replied, “It could be anything—a weapon, higher aptitude, special elemental power, or even part of a Law or Concept.”
Everyone stared at the girl and Seren with envy and regret. If they had known the rewards, perhaps they would have sacrificed more. Their thoughts echoed the same sentiment:
‘I regret not training harder.
I wish I hadn’t wasted time on pointless things.
If only I hadn’t been a coward.
If only I had taken that chance when it was right in front of me...’
They had lost a once in a lifetime opportunity.
These opportunities are fleeting; once missed, they may echo as regrets for a lifetime but those who seize them carve paths to unimaginable heights.
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Condemned To Death
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