“Artyom, keep that form still and avoid moving. Concentrate your emotions and fight the feeling.”
Artyom groans internally, wishing he could do some ‘Proper’ training instead of gymnastics.
He takes a moment, moving his arms slowly, balancing two barrels of water on his hands while simultaneously having one foot stand on a very thin rod.
It is difficult, not physically as the barrels of water do not hinder his strength, but more so his dexterity. Keeping the barrels on the center of his palm while making sure that they do not spill is not easy.
A moment passes, just as Artyom had been able to position himself so as not to move, a force of will strikes him, sending a cold chill down his back, immediately followed by the massive feeling of nausea.
“Ughhh,”
Artyom groans, moving again but also doing his best to keep the barrels in the air and the water from spilling off. His thoughts move towards the idea of fighting off this foreign feeling.
He opens his eyes, glaring angrily at Zeek down below, the source of this thing called Aura.
“Better, much better, but nowhere near as potent when you are using it subconsciously,” Zeek shakes his head, “you can reliably react to a threat that your senses cannot even comprehend, but the moment the threat is gone or nonexistent, then you seem to lose all of that impressive control.”
Artyom grunts, repositioning his arms around his body, “You said there is an easy way to defend against aura, why not teach it to me?”
Zeek touches his long beard, moving it down, straightening it, “because it is far stronger as a weapon than as a defense. Sure, I can teach you how to shield your mind from aura, but that would cripple your potential. And yes, you have a great deal of potential, and I don't mean your physical strength,” the old man smiles,” but your instincts. Your instincts are honed to the extent that you are subconsciously manipulating your aura better than a [king] could ever do. When you feel there is a threat, your aura expands around you, feeding you information regarding everything around you, including my movements.”
Artyom looks at Zeek, annoyed that he has to go along with these crazy plans from this old man. He was expecting to learn martial arts. Like how to kick, block, proper positioning of feet.
But the man is obsessed with aura.
“That doesn't make sense. I am just reacting to the wind and where I think you are coming from.”
Zeek rolls his eyes,“ I can move faster than the wind, kid. You can't use that excuse.”
Artyom, frustrated after several hours of standing like this, frowns while grinding his teeth.
He had been in the military and understands how to take orders, but all of those orders had a reason. This… aura training? It doesn't make sense. It is too abstract.
“I don't understand. Why is it important that I learn it? You were the one to tell me that few can use it and that most second-tier classes are not affected much by it.”
Zeek starts laughing, taking enjoyment at Artyoms annoyance. It took three hours of training for the man to start questioning.
“Because, young man, you are instinctually creating a fucking domain.”
Artyom takes a moment, thinking about whether it would be worthy to throw the barrels at the old man. Unfortunately, the chances of hitting him are nonexistent. So Artyom adjusts himself to the other foot.
“Then, explain to me what a domain is and why it is so important?”
The old man smiles, a cheeky smile, a smile one would have been waiting to unleash for several hours.
“Because, being able to produce a domain is the single, most difficult requirement needed for an individual to become Named.”
Artyom, hearing that, spills a little water as he attempts to process what was said.
Named. Allisa had described these people as walking disasters. Individuals with the power to single handedly fight and destroy armies. Kingdoms, guilds, even the gods fear them for their immense destructive potential.
Being named is the pinnacle of strength and is the level of power that Aryum needs if he wants to have any chance of going back home to his children.
Artyom sighs and relaxes his body.
“You are saying that a domain is needed? What of levels? Of skills? What exactly is a domain?”
Zeek brushes his beard,” A domain is formed when your aura, your condensed will and soul, becomes potent enough to affect reality. And unlike levels or skills, a domain has no arbitrary limitations.”
Aryum raises an eyebrow, “show me.”
Zeek nods.
You are under the effect of [Exhausting Storm]
Everything you do cost 122% more energy.
A weird feeling takes hold of Artyom. Not necessarily bad, but it is noticeable in the sense that everything seems to feel harder to do. But, it is rather easy to ignore and work through. Annoying, yes, like gravity had been increased, but not something that Artyom would be unable to fight through.
“Useful, but I don't see how this can defeat armies.”
Zeek smiles, hands moving behind his back. His robe sways to the wing, “Artyom, I believe I told you that Domain’s have no limits…”
Everything you do cost 241% more energy.
Everything you do cost 605% more energy.
Everything you do cost 890% more energy.
Everything you do cost 1671% more energy.
Everything you do cost 6731% more energy.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Like the air itself had decided to weigh several hundred tons, Artyom hands give way, the barrels dropping… and then he too falls a second later as exhaustion overwhelms his being. His body strikes the ground, heaving quickly with each breath.
And then, as Artyom feels as though he will pass out, the domain dissipates. Unfortunately, the damage has been done as Artyom’s body attempts to produce energy to move.
“Everything that moves or lives has energy, even spells and skills. Combine that with my own class of [Grandmaster Martial Artist] and my [Touch of stamina drain] skill and you should very clearly understand why I am known as Zeek the Untouchable. Spells, arrows, blades, everything has energy and all of it loses its capability when it touches my skin.”
Artyoms breathing slows. He takes what energy his body had thus far produced and uses it to move himself on his back instead of laying face down on the dirt. “You… you can stop even kinetic energy.” A statement, but also a question.
Zeek twists his head, looking down towards Artyom, “I am not sure what this Kinetic energy is, but I most likely can.”
Artyom frowns, his thoughts thinking on what could even harm Zeek. Possibly a rifle? The bullet would be fast enough to not lose too much energy from the domain, but would it have enough force to penetrate skin after it makes contact?
A cannon, rigged to explode on impact, might do the trick, but then again, Zeek moves fast. Fast enough that he may even be able to dodge bullets.
“Ha, I see that face,” Zeek says with a chuckle. “Most people give up on ever defeating me when they see my domain and skills, but not you. You are already thinking of what weaknesses I may have and in what ways to deal with them. That is good, otherwise I wouldn't ever take you as a student.”
Artyom takes a deep breath, his chest rising before exhaling and allowing to descend.
“As for weaknesses, I do have them, though the best way to counteract me is with another domain. Domains will naturally counteract the other person, weakening them, but only to each other. Thus, someone like Calidi the Scorching Star would be a worthy opponent to fight me thanks to her focus on short range combat. Though I will probably win considering the nature of my class being exceptional in close ranged combat.”
At this point, Artyom just rolls his eyes as Zeek begins to name various named beings which are capable of defeating or injuring him.
“... on the subject of being in the ranged department, very few are even a threat. Hmmm, Darude the Bloody Sandstorm would give me quite a hard time. Oceans of razor sharp sand is not something I would want to fight through. Also, Sylva the Emerald Mistress is one that I thought I could defeat, but damn that elven woman has resources. Apparently, fighting her and an entire forest is not easy. My domain means little against the stamina of an entire forest… I be…
“GRAMPA, what have you done!”
The yell stops the old man from his rambles as he turns towards the noise and his granddaughter looking rather angry.
“Why is Artyom on the floor?”
And then her eyes move to Artyom’s side, “Grandpa, you broke my barrels.”
Zeek points at Artyom on the ground who is currently struggling to stand. His hand and legs are shaking, “Artyom here dropped them.”
Alissa’s hand go to her slender hips as she leans forward, towards her Grandfather, “and who made him drop it? Artyom wouldn't drop my water barrels and let them break.” she says icily, forcing even the 600+ grandfather to look away from her glare.
“It… it is fine. We will buy a new one,” Artyom exclaims as he finally manages to stand, taking a sad look at the barrels.”
“But, grandpa sho-,” Artyom raises his hand, silencing Alissa.
“It is fine. We were using these barrels for training and they broke. It is both mine and Zeeks responsibility to have new ones bought or made. So do not worry, we will have them replaced before tonight.”
Alissa, hearing Artyom take responsibility, unlike her Grandpa, blushes. She straightens her dress out, trying to avoid eye contact with Artyoms powerful gaze and amazing, fit, bare chest.
“A-alright. Just… just dont forget that I will have dinner ready tonight. So don't be late.” she exclaims quickly, turning around and walking at a rather fast pace towards her home.
As she leaves, Artyom walks beside Zeek, taking a look at the old man, “You’re paying for this.” Artyom exclaims.
Zeek, looking up at Artyom, smiles as his hand, touches his beard again, straightening it out, “I don't have any coin.”
Artyom looks at the old man, gazing at him in a new light. The old man has few possessions, even his robe, though of good quality, looks extremely old. The only seeming thing of actual worth Zeek has, was a ring, a ring that is now on Artyom’s finger.
“You are a being that could fight armies but you don't have a coin to your name?”
Zeek smiles apologetically.
Artyom shakes his head in annoyance. He is not sure if he has enough coin to buy two broken barrels.
“I do have an idea on how to get that coin quickly if you want to hear it.”
Artyom looks at the old man and the cheeky smile.
Unfortunately, considering the time of day, there is very little chance of him hunting for something large enough to sell for coin.
*Sigh*
“What.. is your plan.”
Zeek smiles like a prey watching a predator give up on the chase.
___________________________________________________________
The town of Snowbird is lacking in any form of walls but not lacking in size at all. On the contrary, the town is nearing the size of a small city. The walls are not required considering the location of the town and the fact that most predators can be dealt with by a simple [Farmer].
Artyom had been here before for when he needed his white cloak made. A white cloak from a Frost direbears skin. Wearing it on its own, attracts a great deal of attention as few could even fight one and keep its fur intact. Immediate recognition and respect are given to Artyom.
But Artyom can't help but feel little, compared to the men. Yes, Artyom is tall and has a bodybuilders physique, but so do most of the men in the town. They are bursting with muscles and many of them are even bigger and taller than he is.
He had always been the biggest alongside his brother in the military, but now, now he is starting to feel small.
“Artyom, stop staring and follow. We are almost there,” says Zeek.
And then there is Zeek, an old man with sticks for hands but somehow weighs more than three hundred pounds.
Artyom follows Zeek into the town, passing stores and homes, all until he stops at a relatively large stone building with a line and two very big muscular [Guards] at the front.
Zeek walks past the line and steps in front of one of the [Guards]. The crowd starts to boo and yell but Zeek ignores them.
“I want to enter my student here in the competition,” Zeek says to the [Guard].
The [Guard] snorts and is about to tell the old man to fuck off but stops as his eyes land on Artyom. Primarily on the cloak and the man which had carried the carcass of a Frost Direbear through town.
The [Guard] opens the door behind him, “You two can enter. Make sure to follow the rules.”
Artyom, already realizing what kind of place this is, follows Zeek into the building and down the steps, finding themselves entering the underground arena.
And as would be expected, at the center of the arena are already two people going at each other with fists, kicks, hooks. Two men with bulging muscles, trying to overpower the other. A crowd is heard yelling and screaming, both drunk and sober.
Zeek holds out his hand, “Give me your cloak and coin, I will put all the bets on you. Just make sure to not lose,” he says.
Memories resurface of his time in the army. He had joined in unregistered fights between soldiers and has even joined in the gambling side. He was young, stupid, and cocky until he fought someone who was actually trained.
Nodding towards Zeek, Artyom turns and heads towards a well dressed man who looks to be the one to talk to regarding joining the fight.
Artyom walks up to the man and moves his body so as to cover the fight that is currently ongoing in the arena.
The suited man frowns, “What do you want?” he asks as he looks at the man without anything on his chest.
Artyom points behind him, “I want to join in on the fun.”
The suited man raises an eye, taking a better look at Artyom. He already has plenty of fighters for the day, many bigger and probably stronger. But, his [Sense Capability] skill is going off.
“[Analyse]”
The words come out of the dressed mans mouth which is followed by a feeling of Artyom’s mana being suctioned off into Zeeks ring on his finger.
The well dressed man frowns for a moment before blooming with a smile, “I have a good feeling about you, so I will let you join in the competition. What's your name?”
“Artyom.”
The man lifts an eyebrow at the simple answer, but shrugs.
“Artyom it is then,” he points towards a door in the back, “enter through that door and tell the [Fightcaller] to add you to the roster. Tell him Gerek sent you.
Artyom nods and turns, moving to the door. On his way there, he looks at the fight which is going on. Two men are punching, wrestling, fighting, but lacking any and all training. Artyom is not ignorant enough to believe that the fights are going to be easy. Strength matters, but more so skill.
He opens the door, taking a quick whiff of blood, sweat, smoke, and alcohol before entering into the torchlit stony cavern.