As Marcellus gently lifted the blindfold from his eyes, his vision unfolded before him. The first thing that caught his gaze was Ayden, standing a few feet away.
Ayden's appearance was striking—youthful with raven-black hair cascading down in a style that blended boldness and elegance, accentuated by a subtle charm. Her deep blue eyes, sharp and captivating, sparkled with an intense radiance. A uniquely shaped eyebrow added a distinctive allure to their face, complemented by a straight, well-defined nose, a common trait among Anglians.
Clad in dark brown leather pants and a crisp white top adorned with intricate embroidery, Ayden held a longsword in her left hand. The weapon's length matched her impressive height, just a hair shorter than Marcellus.
Marcellus was momentarily taken aback by the imposing size of the sword and Ayden's regal bearing.
"Hello, Marcellus," Ayden greeted him with a smile that seemed to light up the room.
Marcellus, still absorbing the flood of beauty, responded, "It's wonderful to finally put a face to the voice. I was starting to think you were a figment of my imagination."
Ayden's chuckle resonated, filled with playful warmth. "Oh, I assure you, I am very much real. But now that you can see, you have to admit, I'm better looking than you remember. As such, I am naturally the knight and you the squire," Ayden teased, stepping closer with easy confidence.
Marcellus ignored her. In the past month, they had grown closer, sharing memories and stories. They found they both remembered certain tales, leading them to conclude they must share the same origin. One such story was about the adventuring knight and his squire.
The story mirrored them only in that they were both protagonists. Despite differences from their current situation, they both loved the tale. Ayden was obsessed, having read it repeatedly in her youth and memorizing it. Marcellus was equally fixated, not for the story itself, but because he remembered a beautiful blonde girl narrating it to him and other children. Infatuated with her, he learned the stories by heart.
Marcellus's attention drifted from Ayden to their surroundings. His eyes roved over the vibrant hues and intricate architecture of the citadel, a sight entirely new to him.
The revelation was overwhelming, filling him with a sense of wonder and excitement. "I can't believe what I've been missing all this time," he exclaimed, his voice tinged with awe. "This citadel is even more breathtaking than I could have imagined."
Ayden nodded suppressing the urge to smack Marcellus for ignoring her, her eyes reflecting a shared sense of wonder. "Indeed, it is. And now that you can see, our journey through the first circle will be even more thrilling. We'll face whatever perils or wonders lie ahead outside of such an actuality."
As they prepared to confront the unknown challenges of the first circle, Marcellus reflected on the cunning strategy they had employed in the second circle.
By intentionally allowing some opponents to escape with minor injuries, they had inadvertently formed a group of survivors who banded together, unwittingly drawing out more cautious and skilled opponents into their path.
"But Ayden, the number of our adversaries in the second circle is diminishing," Marcel voiced his concern. "The more careful ones are harder to find, and time is running out."
Ayden's expression turned sly, a hint of a cunning plan forming. "Marcellus, we adapt. We'll move closer to the boundaries of the first circle, where the vigilant ones are likely hiding. We'll push ourselves to the limit, seeking out those adept at evading capture. When we finally face them, we'll reveal the true extent of our capabilities."
Marcellus, filled with renewed determination, nodded in agreement. As they settled down for the night, he pondered over the unknown challenges of the first circle, looming large in his thoughts.
The next morning, with their minds set and bodies rested, Marcellus and Ayden set forth. Their bond of blind trust extended beyond friendship. They valued training with blindfolds, pushing their limits to enhance their skills and engrave precise manoeuvres into their very being. Ayden would occasionally join Marcellus in this training, exploring the depths of their abilities together, relying solely on instincts and muscle memory.
Marcellus explained to Ayden the benefits of training without sight, emphasizing how it allowed them to focus solely on the movements and internalize them at a deeper level, a core tenet of their training being imagination.
One particular technique that Marcellus had struggled with was the downward slash. Its mechanics had eluded him initially, but through countless hours of practice, he had mastered it with unwavering precision.
With his blindfold on, Marcel had honed the movement to perfection, etching it into the core of his being, the downward slash became an extension of his soul, an instinctual motion that flowed effortlessly.
It was a sight to behold when others, unacquainted with training blindfolded, attempted to replicate the very same movement.
They faltered, their efforts lacking the finesse and accuracy that Marcellus possessed.
The blindfold had given Marcellus an edge—a heightened connection between mind, body, and sword, all knight breathing techniques train the 'fighting spirit' (Battle Aure to be technic) inherent in all beings with ego.
Its power lies in its ability to exponentially boost the physical capabilities of its practitioner, infusing them with unparalleled strength and unyielding resilience.
This involves the practitioner directing their inner energy, enshrouding either their entire form or specific parts of their body in a thick mantle of energy.
This mantle acts not just as armour but as an extension of their will and strength, this technique, known as 'tenma' flourishes in the absence of strict training methods.
Instead, it blooms within the practitioner through relentless and dedicated physical conditioning, revealing its secrets in a natural and intuitive progression.
Marcellus and Ayden's commitment to training with blindfolds showcased an understanding.
At the core, tenma utilizes the concept of the etheric body, the foundation of the human energy field also referred to as the ether-body or æther body.
This mystical layer is known as a conduit to the physical body; it is the forger of life's tapestry, weaving together experiences and existence. It serves as a crucial link, a bridge that seamlessly connects the mental and emotional energy systems of a being with ego.
In essence, even humans and non-humans without formal breathing techniques could eventually become stronger through life experiences or by luck in discovering their natural breathing techniques, unique to them alone. Even if they tried teaching someone else their natural breathing techniques or replicating similar experiences, the benefits might never be fully realized by others. At best, they might achieve only 70% of the benefit, or they might not gain anything at all.
***
[Bip... Analyzing the host...]
Name: [Marcellus ???]
Strength: [10]
Constitution: [9.8]
Stamina: [10]
Agility: [10]
Spirit Force: [0.01]
Ether Core: [3741.5]
Attributes: [Resolute Heart][Perceptive]
***
Many things have undergone a significant transformation. Marcellus's attributes had seen substantial upgrades.
For the past month, Marcellus's Strength had remained at a formidable [10]. However, it appeared as though he had reached a plateau, unsure if he could push his limits any further.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Unbeknownst to Marcellus, he lacked this knowledge, as there was no miraculous manual or guide to aid him in his journey. He had yet to even conquer the Pulse Condensation.
Aside from his stats, another noticeable change occurred within Marcel's Ether Core. It seemed to have increased significantly. He found himself immersed in an ocean of EC.
If one were to look at Ayden's stats It would look like this.
***
Name: [Ayden ???]
Strength: [9.6]
Constitution: [9.2]
Stamina: [100]
Agility: [100]
Spirit Force: [0.01]
Ether Core: [4021.5]
Attributes: [Stalwart][Cold-Blooded]
***
Marcellus was well aware of Ayden's stats, as he and Ayden had always shared such information to ensure their battle readiness was at its peak. They understood each other's strengths and weaknesses, allowing them to complement one another when facing a group head-on. Marcellus's keen perception and Ayden's strategic planning formed a formidable combination, enabling them to anticipate and counter any challenges they encountered together.
While strolling along the desolate street, Marcellus abruptly halted, his gaze fixated on a house to their left. His heightened sense of smell hinted at the presence of someone concealed inside. Ayden mirrored Marcellus's action, coming to a halt.
The air was pregnant with anticipation as they exchanged a silent understanding, ready to investigate the mysterious figure lurking within the seemingly deserted house. With cautious steps, Marcellus and Ayden approached the house, their movements blending with the eerie silence of the surroundings. As they reached the entrance, Marcellus extended a hand, gesturing for Ayden to stay back and cover him. Ayden nodded, positioning herself a few paces behind, alert and ready to react.
Marcellus gently pushed open the creaking door, revealing a dimly lit interior. The room appeared deserted, filled with a heavy atmosphere of neglect. However, Marcellus's nose told him otherwise. His eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any signs of movement or hidden threats. And then he saw it—a flicker of movement in the corner of his vision. Swift as a shadow, Marcellus darted toward it, his nimble form navigating through the obstacles with precision.
As he reached the source, he found himself face-to-face with a figure shrouded in darkness. The stranger's eyes widened in surprise, their presence caught off guard by Marcellus's swift approach. With a calm yet penetrating gaze, Marcellus broke the silence in a tone of recognition. "It is you?"
The stranger hesitated, their voice carrying a hint of unease. "I... sorry for running. I meant no harm." The stranger's uneasy demeanour intensified as Marcellus's suspicion grew. Sensing an imminent revelation, the stranger glanced over their shoulder, revealing a second person hiding in the shadows.
This individual had a wiry frame, their eyes darting nervously around the room. Their appearance hinted at a life spent evading detection, with dishevelled, blood-stained clothing and a perpetual air of restlessness. Marcel recognized the second person too!
Before Marcellus could react, Ayden swiftly stepped forward, her movements betraying a lethal grace. With a calculated strike, she drove her longsword through the wall, silencing a third person and ending their pursuit abruptly. The sound of steel meeting flesh echoed through the room, accompanied by a gasp of surprise cut short.
These two were hiding from the person Ayden had just taken down. As Ayden withdrew her sword from the fallen assailant's body, blood dripped through the wall. Dismissing the sword, a mischievous smile formed on her lips. Ayden looked at the remaining two individuals and spoke with a mix of amusement and recognition.
"Well, well, it seems we've finally crossed paths."
The first person, now visibly shaken, stammered, "You... you know us?"
Ayden's smile widened. "Oh, I am sad, Marcellus, it seems they do not recognize your ugly mug without the lovely blindfold."
"And it seems she fails to recognize you as well," Marcellus interjected, his voice laced with dry humour.
In truth, Marcellus and Ayden hadn't significantly changed since then. They now had regular opportunities to groom themselves and were no longer in tattered clothing, giving them a slightly different aura. When someone is holding a sword pointed at you, you might not recognize them too.
Silence enveloped the room momentarily, the weight of knowledge hanging in the air. "We have been aware of your activities for some time," Ayden revealed, her gaze piercing towards the second person in the shadows.
Marcellus, still observant and calculating, joined the conversation. "We've been playing a little game of cat and mouse. But now, it seems it's time to end our game."
The second person, who had been hiding in the shadows, stepped forward cautiously. Their eyes darted between Marcellus and Ayden, a mix of fear and curiosity lingering in their gaze. "Comrades, what do you want from us?"
Ayden's voice shifted, adopting a mellower cadence as her innate charisma began to take centre stage, subtly altering her posture. With a disarmingly casual air, she said, "Nothing much, just your lives and wealth."
Marcellus nodded, his eyes unyielding. "We're caught in a survival game," he mused. "Ayden's hunch is that we're to battle everyone here, leaving only the fittest standing."
The first person's face transitioned from fear to a blend of curiosity and apprehension. "What do you mean?"
Ayden's smile held a cryptic charm, her blue eyes twinkling with concealed wisdom. "Your alliances are futile. We've discovered numerous divisions within this fortress. My theory? They want us to clash. That's why killing someone transfers their Ether cores to you."
Ayden guessed that it wasn't meant to be a battle royale leaving only one person standing or one team. Instead, it seemed designed to have multiple people survive.
She theorized that the citadel's true purpose was to identify and forge alliances among the strongest individuals. The trials and battles were not just to eliminate the weak but to encourage the formation of small, powerful factions capable of cooperation and strategic collaboration. This would explain why killing someone transferred their Ether cores to the victor—it was a way to redistribute power and resources, ensuring that the survivors were not only the most skilled but also the most adaptable and capable of forming alliances. This Half she told Marcellus.
Ayden's hypothesis which she didn't share with Marcellus suggested that the ultimate goal was to create a network of elite warriors who could work together to face an even greater, unknown threat beyond the citadel. This design encouraged both competition and cooperation, weeding out those who could not adapt while fostering bonds among those who could. The citadel wasn't just a test of strength but a crucible for creating a unified, formidable force.
Marcellus subtly hinted at their deeper plan, his gaze sharp and communicating more than words. "In this precarious dance, we've been restrained, careful not to reveal too much. In a world where ears might be everywhere, certainty is a luxury." Indicating that others might be listening.
"The frequency of our encounters in this vast citadel is no coincidence," he observed, his face a mask hiding his true thoughts. "Your group's numbers have dwindled, leaving just the two of you."
The second person, cautious yet curious, questioned, "What if we refuse to engage? You don't have to fight us. Remember, I taught you swordsmanship." He pleaded.
Ayden's expression hardened; her voice authoritative. "Refusal is an option. But remember, your reluctance to accept actuality almost led to our downfall. Still playing the benevolent leader?"
"We propose a different path—a chance to fight for our survival. We've made plans," Ayden added, her tone now encouraging. "If you prove strong, we might ally with you. But weakness will not be tolerated."
This time, Marcellus and Ayden chose a different tactic, their previous actions against Leon and his team leaving a sour taste. Plus, there was another matter to consider...
Marcellus's determination shone through as he declared, "Your Life is in your hands."
A tense silence fell, the gravity of their words hanging in the air. Leon who was hiding in the shadows and his companion exchanged looks of uncertainty and fear, realizing the stakes had risen. Recognizing the moment's significance, Ayden gestured outside. "Let's settle this."
With reluctant acceptance, the pair followed Marcellus, their hesitance clear but overridden by fear. Marcellus led confidently, his footsteps resounding in the quiet street. Leon and his companion followed, visibly uneasy.
Ayden, stepping out last, issued the challenge: "Who will face me first?"
Leon, summoning his katana, faced Ayden, who wielded her longsword.
Grit etched itself into Leon's stance, his resolve clear in the face of the looming duel. Their battle unfolded as a spectacular showcase of skill and velocity, a riveting duel between two exceptionally trained warriors. Leon's downward strikes were executed with precision, yet they paled against Ayden's masterful fencing skills and agile footwork. Ayden's parries and thrusts not only displayed formidable strength but also refined technique.
Leon, driven by a mix of desperation and resolve, engaged with all his might. However, Ayden's composed and skilful approach was unmistakable. Despite Leon's valiant efforts and strategic manoeuvres, he found himself steadily outmatched by Ayden's superior combat prowess.
In a daring and calculated move, Leon feigned vulnerability, creating a deliberate gap in his defence. It was a gamble, hoping to draw Ayden into over-committing. But Ayden, with her quick perception and reflexes, instantly recognized the ploy and exploited the opening, delivering a swift, precise strike to Leon's shoulder. The resulting wound, while not debilitating, was significant enough to underscore the gap in their skills.
"You fought well, but strength isn't there yet," Ayden stated. "Skill and limit-pushing are key, yet you lack in these areas."
Ayden then turned her attention to Marcellus. Leon looked from Ayden to Marcellus and finally to his companion, Elena, realizing his fate now rested with her. Elena, naturally facing Marcellus, was a rare sight in these times. Her dishevelled appearance, marked by mud and blood, belied her inner strength. Marcel noted her resilience, as a product of harsh circumstances.
Marcellus decided to face her unarmed as a training exercise for him. "I mean no disrespect," he said.
Elena accepted the challenge, her fiery spirit evident. "I won't hold back."
Their duel commenced, a striking display of agility and raw skill. Marcellus, facing Elena's sword with nothing but his bare hands, found himself deeply impressed by her tenacity. This unconventional match-up pushed him to the edge of his capabilities, his senses heightened in the absence of any weapon.
Elena, with a sword in hand, launched a series of swift, calculated strikes, her blade slicing through the air with precision and intent. She manoeuvred with a grace that belied the lethality of her attacks, her every step and swing choreographed in a deadly dance.
Marcellus, on the other hand, displayed an extraordinary level of physical prowess. His reactions were fast, his body moving with a fluidity that seemed almost superhuman. Each of Elena's strikes, no matter how swift or cunning, was met with Marcellus's impeccable timing and spatial awareness. He ducked, weaved, and sidestepped, turning what could have been fatal blows into near misses. His footwork was a blur, a skilful blend of agility and strategic positioning, making him a target that was almost impossible to pin down.
Elena's frustration grew as her attacks, though executed with impeccable skill.