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Martial God Of The Era
The Martial Era

The Martial Era

Grey City, a desolate and neglected metropolis, stood as a mere shadow of what a thriving city should be. It was a place with little progress, barely surpassing the squalor of slums.

A middle-aged woman, radiating an ethereal beauty, questioned with a mix of concern and frustration, " Just how many times have I said you not to practice martial arts?" Tenderly, she wrapped a bandage around the swollen arm of her ten-year-old son. His jet-black hair and eyes, paired with his ghostly pallor, evoked a sense of frailty. One could hardly bear witness to him without fearing he might collapse at any given moment.

"I'm sorry... Mom," the young boy stammered, his attempt to halt the tears proving futile as they streamed down his cheeks. In an era where a single pill could mend such injuries in mere seconds, the sight of bandages and plastering remained an unfortunate norm confined to cities like Grey City.

"Let's go home. I'll prepare dinner for you. Please, don't cry," she whispered, her voice filled with a soothing tenderness. Simultaneously, she playfully tickled her son, eliciting a joyous laughter that caused her lips to curl up in a bittersweet smile.

After a brief stroll, they arrived at their three-story apartment. The building, sadly neglected, showed signs of poor maintenance, including abysmal soundproofing.

The sofa in the living room emitted an unpleasant creaking sound as Nova settled upon it.

Ignoring the discomfort, he swiftly activated the holographic TV and immersed himself in a match between two skilled martial artists.

Isabell, though concerned, refrained from stopping him, considering that he had just ceased his tears.

It wasn't that Isabell didn't harbor aspirations for her son to become a martial artist. Like any parent, she held such dreams.

After all, in this era of Martial Arts, practitioners enjoyed esteemed political statuses. However, Nova's frail physique betrayed him, leading to injuries every time he attempted to train.

What startled her was that her son possessed an innate brilliance—his ability to memorize and comprehend things with a mere glance. This indicated a promising future for him! Moreover, his sharp intellect was unparalleled.

This served as another reason why she discouraged him from pursuing martial arts. Gazing at Nova, whose face beamed with excitement, Isabell's lips curled up once more as she made her way to the kitchen, preparing a hearty dinner for her son.

The delightful aroma wafted into Nova's nostrils, instantly triggering a symphony of rumbling in his stomach. "Mom! I'm starving!" he exclaimed, his small hand tenderly caressing his tummy.

Isabell couldn't help but chuckle, moved by her son's adorable hunger pangs. She swiftly returned with a plate of freshly cooked, warm food. Such luxuries were scarce in their life in grey city.

Seated together, they engaged in light-hearted conversation as they savored each bite. In the midst of their meal, Nova suddenly broke the cheerful atmosphere with a heartfelt question, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "Mom... Why am I so weak?" The question hung in the air, shrouding the room in silence.

Observing his mother's lack of response, Nova rose from his seat, carrying his plate to the kitchen to wash it.

In that very moment, tears began streaming down Isabell's cheeks, revealing the depth of her emotions.

The next morning, Nova stood on the floor, determination etched upon his face. He steadied his breathing and tightened his fist, preparing to execute a martial move he had committed to memory the previous night. However, in that very moment...

"Nova!" His mother's shout jolted him, causing his heart to race. He rushed over, fearing that she had somehow discovered his intention to practice martial arts. But as he approached her, he saw something unexpected—a smile brimming with excitement adorning her face.

As he gazed at her, a peculiar sensation of happiness welled up within him, the depths of his being stirring with an unexplainable joy.

"Nova! You've been accepted into Ace Academy!" His mother's words burst forth, her voice brimming with elation. "You've been chosen for the Technology and science category, Tech as main subject and science as secondary, and it's fully covered! Starting from June first, you'll be attending Ace Academy!"

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Ace Academy, the epitome of educational institutions across the entire alliance of species. A planet had been dedicated solely to building this prestigious academy, catering to a staggering population of 5 billion students.

Though the number seemed immense, considering that a single galaxy alone held a population exceeding 100,000,000 billion lives, the exclusivity of the academy became evident.

Ace Academy offered various disciplines, but the primary categories were science, technology, martial arts, Universal history, universal geography, and piloting.

Nova had taken the manual exam as instructed by his mother, and today was the day they would receive the results. As the news unfolded, the White family erupted in a symphony of bliss and happiness, particularly Nova's mother. Nova wore a smile on his face, but his mind buzzed with a whirlwind of thoughts.

Martial arts... What about those Fascinating moves...

"I need to tell my friends!" Nova exclaimed, bursting out of the house and sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him. His mother swiftly placed an order for ingredients online, fully aware that certain occasions called for a proper celebration, even if they had to carefully manage their finances.

As Nova ran outside, the world around him began to blur, his vision clouded with tears. Soon, the tears streamed down his face, and he felt his chest tighten, gasping for precious breaths of air.

"Huff... I can't even run properly without gasping for air like a patient with lung disease. I'm just a worthless good for nothing pest..." His voice broke, and he crumbled under the weight of his emotions. Breakfast time soon arrived, and Nova wiped away his tears, attempting to conceal the fact that he had been crying. Yet, despite his efforts, it was evident to anyone that he had wept for an extended period.

The moment Isabell caught sight of her son's face, she understood that he had been crying, and the reason behind it was all too clear. However, she chose not to address it directly. 'He has to face the harsh reality at some point...' She silently lamented, feeling a pang of sorrow for her son. Nevertheless, she remained strong, shielding her own emotions from revealing themselves upon her face.

They both sat at the table, consuming their breakfast in a solemn atmosphere. The usual lively conversations that accompanied their meals were replaced by an oppressive silence that hung in the air, weighing down their spirits.

As their breakfast drew to a close, Isabell broke the silence with a gentle voice. "I've completed your online form. The only thing left is to choose three side subjects from the remaining four or minor subjects."

"Martial arts..." Nova's words rushed out of him the moment he heard his mother mention those options.

A stern expression settled upon Isabell's face as she looked directly at Nova. "Nova, you need to understand. Your body is incredibly weak. I've already lost your father, and I don't want to risk losing you as well. Please," she pleaded, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and desperation.

The weight of her words tugged at Nova's heart, filling him with a profound ache. He longed to voice his thoughts, but the words seemed to escape him, leaving him momentarily speechless.

Eventually, he managed to gather his thoughts and utter a response. "Piloting, and the other two," he managed to say, his voice filled with a mixture of resignation and determination.

Taking his plate in hand, he silently made his way to the kitchen, his heart heavy with unspoken emotions.

As night descended, Nova lay in his bed, cocooned beneath a comforting blanket. His mind raced, grappling with a multitude of thoughts. The question echoed in his head, "Should I run away?"

Yet, almost instinctively, he shook his head, immediately discarding the notion, knowing deep down the tremendous sacrifices his mother had made for him.

"What should I do?" he pondered, the weight of the decision weighing heavily upon him.

Gradually, as the dawn approached, Nova reached a conclusion, though it pained him to do so.

"It's best to let go of martial arts." Despite a lingering feeling in his heart that disagreed with this decision, he saw no other viable option before him.

The bittersweet reality settled within Nova's being, and with a heavy sigh.

The following days swiftly slipped away, leading up to May 17th, 4990. Nova and his mother, Isabell, found themselves standing in the bustling registration hall.

It was a momentous day, as they attended to the final formalities, marking the imminent departure of Nova.

With the submission of the last form, his journey to the planet where Ace Academy stood, a planet often referred to as the Planet of Hopes, would commence.

Emotions ran high as they navigated the bureaucratic process. Isabell masked her inner turmoil with a brave face.

The weight of leaving his familiar surroundings and embarking on a new chapter tugged at his heart. There were a total of three students chosen from this planet. Each family present in the registration hall is present in their city.

The person in charge of the registration hall spoke with a warm tone, announcing the imminent activation of the teleportation portal.

"Please proceed to the waiting room and await further instructions," he directed the families, his friendly smile encompassing the room.

As his gaze fell upon Nova, a glimmer of admiration reflected in his eyes. Despite being an average student, Nova's acceptance into Ace Academy held the promise of a remarkable future.

However, the path ahead would be arduous, as only a select few—roughly 1,000 or even fewer—graduated from each category.

Nova and Isabell nodded in acknowledgment before taking their seats in the waiting room. Time ticked away slowly, one hour and forty-five minutes passing in silence. Then, breaking the quietude, Isabell spoke, her voice filled with understanding.

"I know, deep down, you yearn to practice martial arts, don't you?" she softly expressed.

"No, I-" Nova attempted to interject, but Isabell cut him off, not allowing him to finish.

"I've seen the admiration in your eyes, the admiration you hold for martial artists. I was once like you, filled with the same admiration when I was young," Isabell confided.

"However, your fragile body is one reason why I am hesitant for you to practice martial arts. But the main reason is that your father was a martial artist too."

"What?!" Nova exclaimed, his face contorted with surprise. He had inquired about his father on numerous occasions, only to be met with silence and avoidance from his mother.

It had pained him, leaving a void in his heart, as a blurry image of a white-haired figure haunted his memories. Despite the fading recollection, a sense of fatherly love remained within Nova.

Isabell continued, her voice tinged with sadness. "Martial artists are not as glorious as you may think. They aren't protectors of justice or guardians.

They are tormented souls, constantly consumed by their thirst for bloodshed. Your father too succumbed to this madness.

Though it saddens me, I don't want it to affect our lives, which is why..." Nova felt his vision blur as a barrier formed, slowly extinguishing his desire for martial arts.

"Nova, remember this. Pursue your desires, but be prepared to kill those who threaten you, or else you may end up like a certain someone" Isabell cautioned, her words carrying a weight of experience. "In this temporary life, nothing remains permanent. Make sure to savor every second."

At that moment a voice echoed, signaling the readiness of the portal. Employees guided Nova toward the entrance, while Isabell stood six feet away, her gaze fixed upon her son, who possessed a bright future ahead.

As Nova turned his head, he felt the dwindling remnants of his martial arts aspiration. Only a faint flicker remained within him.

"I... don't want to say goodbye," he murmured softly.

...These six feet never felt so long.

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