Eight Martial Styles, and fourteen days to gain basic mastery over all of them. Although the text of the scroll described the Martial Style and its levels in a simple manner, Alnea knew that it was anything but that. Just the sheer number of the postures, and the positions involved had already made him feel a little dizzy. Not to mention all those muscles that he had to learn to control.
As soon as Alnea had gone through the scroll detailing the Thousand Arms Style, he knew that mastering it was not going to be easy. And this was just one Martial Style. There were still seven more Martial Styles that he would have to master in fourteen days to keep his Oath. If all of them were going to be as difficult as the Martial Style in front of him looked, then keeping his Oath was going to be quite difficult, as was evident from the pressure on his Spirit.
Maybe he really should listen to his Master, Alnea thought, and not take Oaths so hastily. But he had already taken his Oath, so there was nothing he could do, except begin practising the Martial Style under the watchful eyes of his master. Following the instructions of the scroll, he mirrored the postures that were drawn on it, hoping that he would be able to complete the first level soon, and move on to the second level.
Things were not easy though, especially the part about trying to feel the muscles in only a single part of his arms. As shown in the diagram, he held a weird position in his arm, trying to feel the muscles in his shoulders, instead, he got a sore, numb arm, and aching muscles. There was no use entering his Spirit State either, as his Spirit, being bound by the Spirit Inhibitor Ring, could not help him. Or else, with the enhanced senses of his Spirit State, sensing his muscles would have been a cinch. At the very least, it would have been easier than it was at the moment.
And so, Alnea was left standing, making weird postures with his arms, feeling all their muscles tingling at the same time, when he was supposed to feel them from only one part at a time. His master’s mocking gaze did not help either. It felt as if she was able to read all his thoughts, mocking him for thinking that it would be easier for him to do it with the help of his Spirit. Even people half his age had done much more than he was being asked to do, she had said. Recalling her words, he felt an inexplicable determination rising from within himself.
“Ilea’s crown,” Alnea said to himself mentally. “If some dumb kids can do it without the help of their Spirits, then so can I.”
Still, he could not deny that he was facing difficulties in mastering the Martial Styles. There had to be a better way to do things. Maybe it was because the posture he was using did not suit him. Martial Styles did depend a lot on compatibility. As for what he had said to his master about the issue of compatibility arising only when Aspects were involved, maybe he was a little wrong there too. Who could know?
And so, with his new plan of mastering the Thousand Arms Style, Alnea started going through the postures one by one, changing from one part of the arm to another, that the scroll had described. Some of them could be done while sitting, some had to be performed while standing up. And some were so weird, that his face was flushed trying to imitate those postures in front of his master, unable to truly concentrate on them. In the end, even his master could not see him make a fool of himself.
“Forget it,” his master said. “With the rate of your progress, I am afraid that—
“I can do it,” Alnea said, interrupting his master rather abruptly, refusing to accept any other outcome. After all, he could not let himself fall behind some random kids half his age, could he?
Apparently, his master did not agree with him, expressing her dissatisfaction by shaking her head in silence, while letting out a sigh. But what else could he do? He had already taken his Oath. There were no other options for him. He had—
Unfortunately, he had forgotten to let his stomach in on his plan, which chose that exact moment to rebel against him, demanding its pay for the morning.
“Eat your breakfast first before doing anything,” his master said, as the frown on her face turned into an amused smile. But it made him even more adamant on continuing with his training. How could bow down to—
With his shameless stomach grumbling once again, bringing with it the sense of weakness and the pangs of hunger that he had been ignoring up till then, Alnea had not choice but to bow down to the protests of his stomach. Hiding his flushed face from his master, he sat down, and took out one of the boxed lunches in his bag, quietly stuffing it’s contents down his throat.
The other lunch box was for his lunch. He had once tried offering his lunch to his master, but she had refused. On second thought, he had never seen her eat anything in the time that he had known her. Whenever he ate his lunch, she just sat in quiet meditation, with such a stillness that if he had not known better, he might have assumed her to be a statue.
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After he was done with his breakfast, Alnea went back to practising the Thousand Arms Style, yet success was hard to get. It was not until just before the mid noon, when Enn reached his zenith, that he finally managed to complete the first level of the Martial Style. It was supposed to be the easiest of the levels, yet it took him such a long time to complete it. There were still five more levels to go, each more difficult than the last. And there were seven more Martial Styles to master. On average, he had to master one Martial Style in less than two days. He did not have the time to celebrate.
Informing his master about his progress, Alnea dove right back into practising the second level of the Martial Style. It was at least several times more difficult, or rather, more time consuming than the first level. In simpler terms, he had to do the same thing he had done for the seven parts of his arms, to the several muscle clusters in those parts. Fortunately, with the experience of the first level, he managed to bring that time down. But not by much. By the time Enn started sinking in the horizon, and evening came, he still had four parts of his arms left. Yet the day was almost over.
“You can take the scroll with you today,” his master said. “But remember to not overdo it too much. If you really cannot master these Martial Styles by the fourteenth day, then I will help you bear the burden of your Oath. But you will have to promise me to not be so rash with your Oaths again.”
“I cannot do that, master,” Alnea said. “Promises should always be kept… I cannot make a promise which I am not sure of keeping.”
“Do you think that I would ask you to do the same thing that I am keeping you from?” his master said. “Rather, if you really take another Oath like that, then I would definitely stop you from doing so. Instead of making you take an Oath, or a promise with your Roots, I want you to give me your word that you would not do it again. Just that would be enough. I know that you will never betray my trust willingly.”
“That still would not do, master,” Alnea said, shaking his head. “It was my conviction of never breaking promises and Oaths that came first, and then my Roots. If I make a promise, whether one binding on my Spirit or not, I will have to keep it, no matter what.”
“...That stubbornness,” his master said with a sigh, and shook her head. “Go, do your best. I hope that you will be able to keep your Oath.”
“Thank you, master,” Alnea said, and bid her farewell, leaving the Central Academy. But instead of running back on his way, like he usually did, he chose to walk back home, practising the Thousand Arms Style along the way. That earned quite a lot of strange glances, considering how weird the postures of the Style were, but he did not care. He had to finish at least the second level by the end of the day. Only then would he be able to complete the third level the next day.
The fourth, fifth, and sixth levels were just refamiliarising his control over the muscles to control them all at once, so he should be able to complete it faster than any other levels. That would still leave him with only twelve days for seven Martial Style, but he could manage that much if the other Martial Styles were a little easier to master. Yet if he could not complete the third level by the next day, then he would have even less time for the other seven Martial Styles. Once that happened, things would get worse, and out of his control. Maybe, then he would really have to rely on his master to save himself.
No, Alnea thought, no matter what, he would keep his Oath. And so, back at his home, even while he ate, he kept trying to focus on the muscles in his wrists and palms, dropping his food many times, earning a few earfuls from his mother in the process. In the end, he was forced to stop eating so wastefully, but he kept at it with his free hand. Thankfully, the dinner ended soon, and he was able to get back to his practice in his room.
His efforts were not in vain thought. Long past his usual time of going to sleep, and at the cost of an extreme physical and mental exhaustion, Alnea finally managed to master the second level of the Thousand Arms Style, being able to identify all the different muscle clusters in his arms. After he was done, he released a sigh of utmost relief, and felt all his tensed nerves relax, as he just lay on his mattress, drifting off to his dreams. To the memories of the other Alnea.
It was a memory of the other Alnea practising his Oathkeeper Arts. Not the one from his childhood days, when he had been first learning the Oathkeeper Arts, only to later be barred from practising it, but those from the days after he had been banished from his clan, and had picked up his Arts, and his sword, once again. The days when he had stopped worrying about his Enlightenment, and had truly involved himself in his Arts. The days in which he had burned from a passion so strong that it had once been transferred over to Alnea as well, teaching him the proper way to run, and a few of the easier moves of the Oathkeeper Arts.
This was a memory that Alnea had already seen quite a few times, and was quite familiar with. Yet, as he saw these memories once again, something felt different. Something felt odd. Just like the dream that he had had last night. So vivid in details, and so touching in emotions, that he had felt as if he was the other Alnea himself.
Although these dreams and memories had been vivid and realistic, he had always still treated them as dreams, and memories of the other Alnea. But as he lived through the memory, practising the Oathkeeper Arts, he was finding it harder to differentiate the memory from reality. He truly felt as if he was the other Alnea, and that as if it was his Oathkeeper Arts that he was practising.
It was not until he woke up from the dream the next day, that he noticed what the difference was. He had not been seeing the dream, he had been living it. He had not been seeing the other Alnea act out the memory, he had been seeing them through his eyes. He had not watched the other Alnea practise his Oathkeeper Arts, he had been the one practising it. Because there was only one Alnea Oathkeeper.