Gulping down the last piece of meat, William finds the end of his plate. Before thinking of other things, he gives the pair a piece of a good night and leaves for his room.
In the kitchen, Mi-Yung and Luke have long finished their meal.
“He appears fine, Luke. So, will you pay up?” Mi-Yung asks, turning in the chair so she meets Luke's face with hers.
“I... I thought...” he mumbles in an awkward manner, considering changing the topic.
“He is already beyond the 7th day. 3 days, or was it 5? You thought something else before. It is your defeat.” Mi-Yung argued with a bewitching smile, while Luke remains silent. “So, should I take the payment myself? The kind that may be different, but not as if it matters.?” she teasingly said, leaning on his chest while gliding her fingers across his healed face.
Getting closer to his mouth, and then the eyes, Luke is helpless against this sort of gaze, that is ridiculing his lost bet.
Though, he couldn't help but swallow his helplessness. When one bet, there is always a loser or winner. That is the truth, but being the former is always the worst choice. Albeit, no one could be a winner all the time, and Luke understands it.
In this case, he thought it would be 50-50 in no one's favor. So, without a choice, he agreed to the loss, thus following Mi-Yung ways of her words. He will have to pay this up one way or another since this was a bet he took. Whether will William even manage the remaining days no longer matters. He won't even consider renewing the bet.
Both of them knew what kind of stuff 10 days of preparation for the Trial is, but only one of them knows Roman better than the other. In this way, Mi-Yung has all the reasons to believe in William's willpower, making her view him as an extension of his father.
All of the potential recruits to the Academy face the very same things. 10 days are upon every individual who wants to go to the Emblem Academy. Each has different instructors, amounting to various amounts of experience. It is extremely individually based. Everything goes according to the care of the Assembly island, and Schultz, who is the man responsible for the 10-day preparations.
As for the youths themselves? They may have a different upbringing from each other, and their needs vary. Some would straight up be from a completely different kind of world from the rest, speaking a different language, or being a bit different in other ways. This goes further than one would guess since the world is still living with its varied races and cultures. The world is big, and humanity keeps on living.
They will all, or some of them, become the continuing flow of new blood for the Academy, thus becoming a tool for humanity. For that, the Academy will be a place to accomplish that. The hundreds of Walkers of all kinds make it their home, bettering their crafts, and following the directions to save humanity.
One would think it sounds simple, and good for any Walker to get there, but the truth is far from that. Getting there is tough because of the various high standards of the Academy.
One, and the most important is the matter of talent. Having cannon fodder is unacceptable in the world of Walkers, where numbers are limited, while the Dark doesn't have this problem. Academy has limited recourse, so not everyone can get there. There are fewer talented individuals among the Young Walkers. When it comes to the quality, and mental capacity to be one, it's important to have a proper understanding of one's limits. That is the purpose of the Trials. Having a bare 70 Affinity within the forceful Awakening is a bare minimum to go with the Trials, but there is more to them than that.
Even if one is 80, or 90, it can be questionable to appease the senses of the tradition. Such highs of talents still follow the tradition of the Trial, because that's the proper way to do that. The same goes for Stark Takker. A boy of many convictions and a certain attitude because of his father.
He does the same procedure as William, but unlike him, his 7th day is more smooth than his, and it is still ongoing. After all the time upon the 7th day, the defense is underway. Then, the offense, and spar will be like a cup of tea for him, making him much better, as he properly trained for a long time. Although, the matter of training can help only so little. No one could train for the best results, since the Awakening is a start that only comes at a certain point. Before that, the training has diminishing returns. Thus many trained in martial arts, weapons, or getting better at knowledge. William did the latest of that, which is a testament to his attitude.
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Beneath the Institution of the Emblem.
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It is a place of training once again. A thing that Stark Taker do, and loves to do. Many kinds of training are under his belt, but this one is his first. Because of his father, he wants to be better, but he could only achieve that in a limited way. With limited results, it is better to be harsh. Alas, that past is long gone. Unlike before, he now has his emblem within his body, and corresponding methods to feel a surge of power and confidence.
Standing in a square room dozens of feet long, wide, and tall, Stark faces an old man. It is his instructor and the person that is with him for the past 7 days.
Appearing old can only describe his face, head, and a few parts of the body that are prone to the aging process. There is something different, and eerie about this old man. The age is finite, and rather a poor indication of being weak. After all, a Walker who can survive a long time is guaranteed to become powerful.
The body of this old man is etched like the finest sculpture. He is tall like a mountain to be exact, with bulging muscles, a firm 8th pack, and thick arms, making his head small in comparison to the rest of his body. Even his legs are a bit disproportional to the rest, but it doesn't seem to phase him.
At the moment, he flexes every fiver of his bulging muscles. He doesn't wear clothes like a normal person. All that is on him is thick XXXXXL-sized trousers. Well, he is flexing it on purpose, or it is an involuntary reaction of him, just standing? Who knows?
Stark doesn't know that but he knows for sure his training hasn't ended. Day and night will go by, while every minute is a proper chance to get stronger. Now that he has the power, a beginning pathway is upon him.
Unlike the old man, Stark has a weapon, as well as something along his torso. Within Stark's hand is a long dagger made of shiny crystal. It is purple and red in color, filled with matter that glows like a river. Apart from the distinct shape of 3 feet long dagger, there is a long stretch of chains coming from the handle of the dagger, covering the whole side of the hand like a swirling anaconda. The chains are then swirling around his shoulder, and back, before going along a part of his head like some sort of armor.
It is true that this is his armor, but it's rather limited. It is both a fighting stance and a weapon put together. A Chain Dagger is the name of his weapon.
“Well well, WEEEEll! Young sir Stark is most definitely a fierce youth! I must tell that to your old men when I see him.” the old man's beamings voice echoes, shaking the whole room as if a storm rises from the sky.
Stark frowns, feeling defeated because this old man's voice is much stronger than his... Well, he is quite disappointed by this unnecessary fact, but he still counters it in a familiar way.
“Come on! I can take this any day! I build my body with the use of rocks, waves of the misty sea, and countless hits by my father! I won't lose to you, elder Ropp.” he shouts, but can't shake anything, unlike the voice of this old man that appears like a smiling mountain. He wears a wide grin, while he simply stands in the opposite section of this reinforced room. It is a part of the bunkers, but it is smaller and tougher than the one William uses.
Stark winced his lips, biting his tongue as he tries to appear as strong as he could. Though, before he could do so, Ropp answers his taunts. “I am well aware of your ability. Though, for you to want me to use 10% of my power seems rather excessive. No!” Ropp put his fist high in the air, posing like some sort of bodybuilder from ages ago. “I am most positive that you will drown in your own blood before you would have a chance to do a thing. Hell! You won't have a choice to even cry, since I am allowed to let you cry as long as I can. You agreed to that, young master Takker.” Ropp tels as if the matter of fact is quite simple. Appearing smiling, his tone is for sure filled with killing intent, and despairing threat in Stark's eyes.
Unlike Roman, this man is a ruthless killer and rather wild, and abusive in nature. In not a positive way, this man isn't a teacher per se.
Still, he has a certain reputation, thus Schultz has a special method to allow a rather dangerous thing to occur. It was Stark's idea, and Schulz allowed this to happen. The fact of Ropp, being who he is, doesn't matter to Stark, who wanted to know the true fear of killing intent of a man, who acted independently for decades.
His father could do this sort of training to him, but it's not the same. The family bond is still firm in Stark's mind, so the only real solution would be this. Even if he ends up shedding tears and blood, the killing intent doesn't have a place in his family. Or at least in the family that he knows of.
“How about 8?” Starks says after listening to his words.
“That is too much. I did 6 and you almost vomited your lungs out. It's not a great way to die. I believe so. No. Trust me.” Ropp pulls his hands down, scratching his bald head in remembrance of many dying men.
Sighting, Stark helplessly hopes of going past the limits, but he already did try his best. He survived the barrage of 5% attacks for 16 mites and 42 seconds. Though, it was all he needed to feel sorry for his abilities, or for even trying to underestimate this Walker nicknamed Nightmare Ropp.
Smiling the same as usual, Ropp thinks very little of this young walker, but he can't help to think about this boy's father. He can't be too rough with him, or he will end up even worse than this boy would.
“Well, this is a defensive day as you heard it long ago. Your Skill is rather impressive, barely holding its form. It is sufficient for 5% of my power, which is actually surprising. Any more and you will be in danger.”
“What? Are you afraid to hurt me? Don't tell me you think I am weak. This was an unsteady time where I barely got my Arcanite into steady formation. You saw it too, but you chose not to talk about it. Hmph!” Stark snorts, suddenly getting a good idea for a choice of words. “It's not like I want your stupid teachings. You are not a teacher, Elder Ropp. You are a monster.” Stark argues, making his intentions clear that he is far from his limits.
In truth, it's long past the 7th day, but Stark doesn't care about some rest. It has been the beginning for him, as many days before this has been the beginning of his ambition. This day, or the 7 days before, his life is now different from the ones before that. Even though his knees and legs are shaking at the moment, his eyes are firmly focused on the mountain of a man, that is at least 9 feet tall.
This sort of Skill that Ropp describes is what Stark has. It isn't protecting or empowering his lower body, which is a big disadvantage at the moment. His legs are taking every brunt of force much harsher than he would like.
“Fucking Status board... Is it joking with me? Giving me this sort of Skill is good but not including management Skills is a nightmare. I swear I will awaken the Feel of the Arcanite and other powerful tools too.” Stark thinks to himself, forcing his body to take a defensive stance. He lowers his feet and put his right arm forwards as a shield. It is thick, layered with chains that make his arms appear quite massive. It allows him to defend his head and chest, but the force can still travel through the chains, albeit limited.
“I am still fine with whatever you desire, young master Takker. Attacking you is fine by me as a tea in the middle of the day.” Ropp sarcastically adds.
“You call these attacks? This is a defensive day, so if you are attacking this loosely, I am more than capable of withstanding it. I am very disappointed in you, elder Ropp. You disappoint me!” Stark changes his strategy to more harsh words. He utters them with a stoic face, hiding behind his right arm, and mocking the monster before him.
Raising his eyebrows, and turning his grin flat, Ropp is unhappy about Stark's words. So much so, that this time, he flexes his robust hands for real. Places them on his hips, and thuds echo around the room. It's like the thuds of a heartbeat, but it's tough and loud. It sounds like someone is hitting a wall, rather than a heartbeat.
“So 7 it is. Don't die, kid. It's more than you can stomach!” he tells, as more veins and muscles pop around his body. It's a strange sight, considering he is already so muscular. Ropp's muscles are hiding somewhere underneath more muscles or something. It wouldn't make sense otherwise, but what can make sense in Walker's body? Very little, considering the many strange properties that a Rank 7 can have.
The Walker with the nickname Nigmare Ropp is a quite physical Walker. As his appearance suggests, his whole schtick is the use of physical strength, while not a speck of Vectors or Arcanite is around him. Instead, it all manifests in a different form.
Every single speck of his power of Arcanite is inside his body. Not even the Emblem can be seen in the building Muscles. It's probably hiding underneath all the folded-up muscles. They are like waves, traveling, building, and crossing into each other.
Preparing himself for a harsh task, Stark places his Chained Dagger around his right hand and chains. In this way, it acts as a tougher defense, since he knows how powerful this dagger is. Holding it tightly, it almost appears as if his whole right arm is a straight spearhead, but the spearhead is rather flexible. Stark can move his hand just fine, making all kinds of motions. He could even point the blade forward, straightening his arms to resemble a spear.
The chains make his defense, but also provide much-needed stability over his choices. He already knows what sort of attacks are possible within his range of motions, and they aren't as easy, or powerful as he wishes.
With this blade, he will be strong as he could get, but it may not be overpowering. Be it in a short range, or long range, he holds all confidence in the world, but when facing Nighamre Ropp, it may be a futile attempt to be like that.
Ropp stops the course of empowering his body. Straightening his body, his hands appear a bit bigger. So much so, that he can't move them straight down to touch his body. They are too muscular to do that. Not like he needs to consider that though. Ropp attacks straight as possible. A fist, bigger than Stark's whole upper body flies to his defensive stance.
A wild explosion and thud follow.
Stark's defense doesn't hold at all, as his feet are clearly at disadvantage. His stability over the ground isn't good against too-forward heavy attacks.
Stark did his best to figure out more about his possibilities. In the past 4 days since he summoned his System, he is trying everything to comprehend all of his available Skills. He knows all kinds of secrets, and information about the beginning of the Walkers is like an open book that he read 100s of times. That is an advantage that Stark has, unlike William who has no prior knowledge about it.
All his Skills are as he expected. Strong but nothing much stands out. Outside of his abnormal talent, that is. Stark even guesses, what sort of thing could 93 affinity provides him. If he can't move stronger, and faster than those below that number, what does he think he can accomplish? Complete shit.
“SHIT!” Stark curses, stabilizing his body by cutting into the ground. In a bit, he slows down, but Ropp is incoming with the 2nd fist. Seeing it nearing, Stark put for his dagger. His defense can also be offensive. He twists his body in an unnatural way, slashing his long dagger toward the incoming fist with unnatural power behind it. It is a wide, and rather a slow-moving swing, which moves according to Ropp, whose speed isn't as crazy as one would expect. He is big, so his speed shouldn't be his priority. At least in the 6% range.
Could this attack, or defense, that Stark has, do a thing? Considering the fact that 6% of Ropp's attack power is close to the limits of what Rank 1 can even take at their very best, it is rather dubious. Any more % and it could end up worse. Ropp knows it, but Stark doesn't.
Stark's right-hand swings forward, protected by the chain, and bends inwards, to make his attack flexible. 2nd attack comes with a corresponding counterattack from Stark's side.
The wide swing slashes towards Ropp's fist, leaving a sudden force around their perimeters. Temporarily, Stark feels a strange sensation as if he understands something. The powerful force of his slash makes his abilities clear. Yet, the force that is going through his dagger is quite savage.
Ropp's hand obliterates Stark's counterattack, and the fist travels forward, hitting its target. Stark flies backward, as the fist lands across his whole upper body. He ends up on the wall, which survives the impact with some cracks. Stark stumps to the ground, but he gets back on his feet in a mere moment.
Standing firm, he adjusts the feelings over his Chain Dagger. Just now, he experienced something incredible, so he wants to feel that again. The feeling of striking the foe with the right technique is of utmost importance, so for now, he doesn't fear anything. Spitting out some blood that he can't care less about, he smirks in a good mood.
“Good. Let's continue where I ended.” Stark wipes the blood around his limps with his left hand, before continuing. “So weak. I feel like regular kicks by my old man can be much stronger than this big fist. How funny.” Stark taunts Ropp before him once again. He doesn't believe his own words, but that's what taunts do. They could be false, a little truthful, or completely made up. Though, it matters nothing, since their purpose isn't to be deceitful, but workable and flexible.
Seeing him like this, Ropp smiles ear to ear, like some kind of devil. His veins around his eyes, neck, and mouth make it that much more terrifying.
Ropp moves back to attack once again, as this night will be quite a hectic one, but the one that Stark wants to experience. This will go for the rest of the 10-day limits, according to his wants.
This is a rather harsh thing to do, considering the youth in question. Stark is young, all things considered, but the basic achievement that he can stand firm at the end of the 7th day is clear as the stars in the sky. As if it was an Outside situation of the mission, he is completely focused on the task before him. He is a firm believer in the craziness. The kind with no breaks, that is. Limited rest, sleep, resources, or food makes his decisiveness that much more apparent.
On the Outside, a Walker could get stranded in the Dark territories rather easily. Falling asleep can prove to be crucial for dying, or going through hundreds of waves of monsters is also possible. Defending, or fleeting motions, are all regular things to do. It is a world of Walkers that he always wanted, so there is no time for breaks.
Unlike the view of his famous father, Star doesn't care about it. No... He doesn't want to acknowledge that, as his ambition for similar standing is more important to him than what his badass father considers to be the norm of this world. Well, the norm that his father put him through, that is. The fact that Stark's father has always been tough with him, but very little freedom was there for him.
That's one of the reasons Stark decided to enroll in the Emblem Academy. There, he will be outside of his father's hands. He will grow as he wishes, doing what he wants and taking all liberties with his decisions. His father may teach him better as they are of the same Type, but he is too... busy of an asshole. A fallout is inevitable.
Though, his father would be more than happy for his son to act within his own force. Hunter's Association is the one that would be great for such a loudmouth.
It ends in a different motion, as Stark will do his own things, while he can't care about the complaints of his father. He will go with what he wants, and that's it.
At the end of the day, this Trial is barely something bothersome to Stark. He knows more about it than some peasants from the Outside, but he doesn't even think of them. His self-centered view, while being very proud, is undeniable. Though, hidden behind the bad, is a hardworking young man, whose ambitions aren't bad. It goes hand in hand with his character. Outside of his harsh exterior, Stark is more hardworking than one could even imagine.