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Paladins of the World Tree
Ch. 7 Magical Running

Ch. 7 Magical Running

Lysandra awoke in the pre-dawn as she had since she was a small child. Her back ached from the night on the thin mattress, but she shrugged off the discomfort, buoyed by the excitement of her new job. The novelty of it still had her feeling chipper as she rose.

Quietly, she climbed out of bed, careful not to wake her mother, who had hours yet before her work began. She greeted her constant, unseen companion. “Good morning, Aury!” she thought with a whisper of joy.

Good morning. Did you sleep well?

“I had the most incredible dream! I was working for Chief Justiciar Valeria, and she was teaching me magic! Imagine, me in a place like that!” Lysandra’s thoughts were a mix of excitement and wistfulness.

That sounds wonderful, Lysandra. Perhaps one day it might come true.

“Come on, Aury, you know serviles can’t learn magic,” Lysandra replied, a touch of bitterness in her thought, swiftly pushed aside. She had a mana core and affinities of course but the laws were strict and her lot in life was clear.

She reminded herself of the church's teachings, of being content and thankful for her station in life. Her role, though small, was a necessary thread in the tapestry of a properly ordered society. She dressed quickly, slipping into her new uniform, the finest garment she owned. Then, moving to the adjacent room of their small home, she prepared a modest breakfast. The toast, barely touched with butter, was a simple meal, yet it was hers. Before stepping out into the emerging day, she paused to offer a silent prayer of gratitude for the home and meal the gods had provided, as the church taught.

Lysandra stepped into the streets, which were already buzzing with the morning's activity. Around her, a sea of faces, all clad in similar uniforms, emerged from rows of identical homes – a living mosaic of Aethel's grand order. The sky, blushing with the first light of dawn, cast a soft glow over the cobblestone streets, lending a fleeting beauty to her mundane surroundings. She noticed the sky start to brighten, quickening her pace, her heart beating a little faster with the worry of being late. Weaving through the crowd, she felt a mix of eagerness and trepidation about what her second day at the barracks might bring.

As Lysandra made her way through the awakening streets of Aethel, the city bloomed around her in a symphony of morning routines and rituals. The fragrant air, tinged with the aroma of fresh bread and the distant clangs of the blacksmith's forge, carried the promise of a new day. Amid this familiar backdrop, Lysandra moved with a habitual grace, her gaze carefully averted from those of higher status.

Ingrained in her from a young age were the unspoken rules of her station. Keeping her eyes lowered wasn't only a practice of humility but a necessity in the structured world of Aethel. The streets, alive with the bustle of morning, were a constant reminder of the social hierarchy that defined her existence.

As she weaved past the merchants and nobles, Lysandra felt the palpable divide between their lives and her own. Their vibrant attire and the sounds of their easy laughter contrasted sharply with the simplicity of her uniform, a stark emblem of her place in society. A fleeting sense of longing touched her heart, quickly suppressed as she reminded herself of her role in the grand tapestry of Aethel’s society.

The barracks soon loomed ahead, its formidable walls a symbol of strength and discipline. Lysandra's understanding of the massive building was limited; she had only been on the first floor, and that too just a small section. But even in her short time there, she had glimpsed Chief Justiciar Valeria herself! She assumed from what little she knew that it was some sort of training hall, perhaps for nobles like the man in the unusual attire she had encountered the previous day.

Her mind wandered back to the 'Paladins' she had briefly interacted with while delivering clothes and messages. The most striking feature about them was an almost imperceptible glow, not exactly light, but something that felt almost divine. She quickly shied away from these thoughts, fearing they bordered on blasphemy, and instead, she recalled the peculiar fashion of their clothing. The man who’d asked her name had been dressed in simple, yet strangely adorned attire, covered in symbols and images she couldn’t begin to understand. And then the kind, red-haired woman in her beautiful dress, Lysandra couldn’t even imagine being dressed so beautifully.

Realizing she had slowed, lost in thought, Lysandra quickened her steps toward the servant's entrance of the barracks. A twinge of dissatisfaction intermingled with the familiarity of her routine. This subtle discontent, a quiet echo in her thoughts, was swiftly quelled by the reminder of her necessary place in the world.

As she stepped through the threshold, Lysandra transitioned from the ordered streets of the city into the structured environment of her work. Here, amidst the rhythm of her duties, she found a sense of purpose, albeit one that sometimes felt too narrowly defined. Her path was clear, her role essential, yet the whispers of unfulfilled dreams occasionally stirred within her, silently acknowledged but never fully embraced.

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Michael woke with the morning light, relishing the brief moment without an alarm, only to be abruptly reminded of the deep muscle pain from the previous day's training. He winced at the memory of Valeria's rigorous regimen but steeled himself with the thought that this hardship was a necessary path to the power he sought. A flicker of excitement stirred within him as he remembered another crucial element from last night - his newly discovered magical affinities.

With Cindy's help, he had uncovered his affinities right before bed:

* Space: A

* Gravity: A

* Luck: C

Michael pondered these affinities. Space and gravity seemed tangible enough, but luck? As an actuary, he had always relied on the law of large numbers and the power of probability, viewing luck more as a concept than a reality.

Cindy had provided little else beyond revealing these affinities. She had an 'impression' that having three affinities was above average but couldn’t confirm if this was a guess or an Aurëthallë revelation. Shaking off his musings, Michael quickly dressed in one of the additional sets of clothes left in his room and headed out for breakfast.

In the dining hall, he found a simple meal laid out: bread, a pork-like meat he had tried yesterday, and orange fruits resembling blueberries. Elisabetta, Lex, and Maria were already there, engaged in a lively conversation.

“You can’t seriously label me a villain just because I have a darkness affinity. I’m a sworn Paladin of Justice!” Lex was saying defensively as Maria chuckled.

“I’m just saying it's suspicious,” Elisabetta teased, then turned to Michael as he sat down, her eyes bright with excitement. “Good morning, Michael! My whole body feels like jelly, but I'm so excited to start learning magic today! I have affinities in knowledge and light. What about you? Lex here has darkness and shadow, which I find rather suspicious, don't you think?”

Michael shared his own affinities with a smile. “Spatial, gravity, and luck. I can’t wait to start manipulating black holes.”

“Black holes? What are those?” Lex interrupted, his curiosity piqued, with Maria and Elisabetta echoing his confusion.

“Umm... they’re a bit complex to explain,” Michael began, pondering how much physics he should delve into with his companions from different eras. “Basically, black holes are areas in space where matter has been condensed by gravity to a point where its gravitational pull is so strong that not even light can escape. They weren't observed until around 1950 but were theorized nearly 200 years earlier by John Michell.” Elisabetta listened intently, while Lex and Maria still looked puzzled.

“Okay, let’s simplify it. Think of black holes as incredibly powerful spheres of darkness in space that pull everything around them. It's unlikely they'll be relevant to what I can do, but it's a cool concept,” Michael summarized, and Lex and Maria seemed to accept this explanation.

After Michael's explanation, Lex turned his attention to Maria. “What about you, Maria? What affinities do you have?” he asked with genuine interest.

Maria let out a soft sigh, a subtle sense of disappointment shadowing her words. “I only have one affinity – it's for life which I suppose is exciting,” she revealed. “Seems a bit limited compared to what the rest of you have. I can’t lie, I was secretly hoping you’d only have one, Michael, and here you show up with three!”

“But Maria, that's incredible!” Elisabetta exclaimed, her voice laced with enthusiasm. “Life affinity probably lets you heal. It has to be the most valuable gift you could have!”

Maria’s expression softened, reflecting a mix of contemplation and newfound resolve. “You might be right. I served as a nurse during the great war. Perhaps a gift like that might have let me save countless lives.”

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the commanding presence of Chief Justiciar Valeria. Her voice, clear and authoritative, resonated through the dining hall. “Paladins, assemble in the classroom immediately. Your training in magic is about to commence.”

The group’s breakfast chatter ceased instantly. Despite the lingering soreness from their physical training, the announcement injected a palpable sense of excitement and anticipation. They quickly finished their meals and began to clear their spaces, each Paladin mentally preparing for the new phase of their training.

As they left the dining hall, a swell of curiosity and anticipation about exploring his magical affinities surged through Michael. He couldn't help but notice a similar sense of eagerness among his fellow Paladins, a collective readiness that seemed to invigorate their movements as they rose from their groups.

Michael's gaze wandered across the room, observing the nascent bonds among the recruits. He spotted Jack Benally, the British officer who’s name he had learned from Lex, standing tall and confident at the helm of a group of military figures from disparate eras. Among them was Isabelle Dubois, her long black hair framing a face marked by a severe, almost constant sneer, suggesting a story of defiance or resilience. Also in the group was a robust man with an air of ancient nobility, whom Michael suspected might have served under Alexander the Great, based on their brief interaction earlier.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

In another corner, Gaius Marius, the Roman legionnaire, conversed with a diverse group of warriors. One had the rugged look of a Bedouin, his eyes scanning the room with quiet alertness, while another, an Indian man, carried himself with the grace and dignity of a prince. Others in the group had a more tribal bearing, their posture and gestures hinting at a life far removed from structured military discipline.

A third significant group was composed of three Asian men, two of whom exuded the energy of young warriors, their stances revealing disciplined training. The elder among them, perhaps in his fifties, held a calm, wise demeanor. Accompanying them were two striking young women, one with features that Michael guessed might be Chinese and the other with a flair that had reminded him the day prior of a 1920s flapper.

A few individuals stood apart from these larger groups, seeming more comfortable in their solitude. Among them was a man Michael suspected to be a Samurai, his posture exuding a disciplined stillness. Observing these loners, Michael resolved to make an effort to talk to them, understanding that navigating this new reality alone could be daunting.

As the Paladins gradually dispersed from the dining hall, Michael lingered for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the eclectic assembly. He marveled at the diversity of backgrounds and life stories converging in this singular gathering. Yet, amidst this sense of wonder, a flicker of self-awareness crept in, casting a shadow of doubt. He couldn't help but feel slightly out of place; not everyone was a warrior, but it seemed that a good eighty-five percent of them had some form of combat background. 'I'm definitely going to be at a disadvantage in training,' he thought ruefully, his eyes briefly settling on Gaius and his group's impressive physiques. 'I’m going to get my ass kicked.'

The prospect of standing among these seasoned warriors and soldiers, with his own skills rooted in numbers and probabilities, was daunting. Michael knew he was about to face challenges far beyond the scope of his actuarial expertise, yet it was a journey he was determined to embark on, no matter how steep the learning curve might be. ‘Who knows, maybe knowing how likely it is I’m going to die will help,’ he quipped to himself encouragingly, a wry smile forming as he turned to follow the others.

Passing quickly through the barracks, Michael and the group of Paladins entered the familiar classroom, only to find the usual seating arrangement replaced by an open space. At the front, General Eldric sat at a large desk, his posture erect and commanding. His eyes, sharp and discerning, lingered momentarily on each Paladin, as if measuring their worth. There was an air of sternness about him, yet a flicker of keen intelligence betrayed a mind constantly at work.

As Eldric began to speak, Michael stood attentively. With a subtle nod, General Eldric signaled for silence, and the room immediately hushed. He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the desk, each movement precise and imbued with purpose. "Paladins," his voice was both deep and clear, resonating through the room, "time is a precious commodity that we cannot waste. Each of you has unique strengths and potentials, and it is crucial for us to harness and develop these as efficiently as possible."

Michael's curiosity was immediately piqued. The concept of personalized training in a society that seemed so regimented and ordered was surprising. Yet, considering the varied affinities and backgrounds of each Paladin, this approach made sense. It suggested that even in a world as structured as Aethel, individual strengths were recognized and valued, at least in the face of the looming threat they faced.

Eldric then handed out pieces of paper, each marked with a unique symbol. Michael received one marked with '^|||'. Before he could wonder about its significance other than its similarity to the room numbers, Cindy's voice echoed in his mind.

"That's 13, Michael."

As the English text overlaid the symbol in his vision, it swam slightly. ‘Well at least I can read, thanks Cindy!’

“Of course big bro, although your reading skills are still limited to what they were on earth so saying you ‘Can read’ might be a stretch.”

Yeah, Cindy wasn’t getting less annoying. He tried to ignore her and focus on the general.

"These numbers will determine the order of your interviews with me," Eldric continued, his tone commanding yet measured. "Our discussions will help tailor your training to maximize our time together."

The room buzzed with low murmurs as the Paladins absorbed this information. Michael felt a surge of excitement at the thought of tailored training. It suggested a diversity in everyone's path, a chance to leverage his unique set of affinities. Maybe, just maybe, his combination of spatial, gravity, and luck affinities could be the edge he needed to excel in this world, it did seem to be more than average, and two of them were A-ranked, whatever that meant.

Eldric's gaze quieted the room again. "Valeria will continue with your physical conditioning. Remember, the readiness of your body is as important as that of your mind. Dismissed."

As the group moved towards the training hall, Michael felt the weight of the task ahead. His interview number, 13, felt like more than just a place in line; it represented an opportunity to carve out his own path in this world, to transform from a man of boredom and numbers into a warrior of Aethel. It would not be easy, but as he stepped out of the classroom into the training hall, he once again firmed his resolve that he would do whatever it takes to live out the dreams of power and purpose he had always held inside.

As Michael and his fellow Paladins entered the expansive training hall, they were greeted by the unwavering gaze of Chief Justiciar Valeria. Clad in simple attire rather than her imposing Justiciar armor, she nonetheless radiated an aura of authority that demanded respect.

"Today marks the beginning of integrating mana into your physical conditioning," Valeria declared, her voice brimming with purpose and determination. "This challenge will test your focus, willpower, and understanding of your own limits."

A wave of excitement mixed with apprehension enveloped Michael. His understanding of mana was elementary, and the thought of combining it with physical exercise was both daunting and thrilling. While this wasn't the spell-casting he had envisioned, the idea of magically enhanced running was far more intriguing than mundane physical training.

Valeria directed them into a meditative stance. "Feel the flow of mana within you," she instructed. "Your task is not to manipulate it intricately but to simply hasten its flow. Whether you command or coax your mana is your choice. I personally command my mana, and it obeys. Others prefer to coax or guide it. Find what works for you."

The group settled into meditation, focusing inward. Michael attempted to connect with the elusive stream of mana within him, but it felt slippery, like trying to catch a stream of water with bare hands. Each effort to harness it seemed futile.

Elisabetta, nearby, appeared to have a better grasp on her mana, her concentration evident in her composed demeanor. Michael, by contrast, felt like he was groping in the dark, his attempts bearing no fruit.

Growing frustration gnawed at him as he struggled with his mana. His more forceful attempts only seemed to further disrupt its natural flow, like trying to conduct an orchestra without any understanding of music. His mana felt chaotic, resistant to his attempts to direct it.

Valeria, observing their efforts, offered additional advice. "Remember, mana emanates from your core and extends throughout your body. Your current objective is simply to accelerate this flow. Focus on enhancing both the push and pull from your core."

Embracing Valeria's counsel, Michael visualized his mana core and the channels stemming from it. He concentrated on bolstering the push and pull from the core, endeavoring to intensify the flow of mana. Slowly, he began to notice a change. The mana circulation marginally increased, more of it integrating into his body, endowing him with a sense of augmented strength and energy.

Despite his initial challenges, Michael felt a sense of achievement. His core, still mysterious in its nature, seemed responsive to his focused will, quickening the mana flow. It was a modest but empowering sensation, a critical first step on his path to mastering the arcane energies within him. He couldn't suppress a smile, even amidst his intense focus. This was, in some ways, genuine magic! The prospect of maintaining such concentration during active exercises was daunting, but still enhanced recovery mediation? That was a classic! Michael was basically a magic warrior already.

His fantasies of success were quickly shattered when Valeria announced, “Okay good, I see all of you seem to be getting it to some extent or another. Now everyone start running. You can set your pace today, but I want to see mana flowing while you run. Remember, if you fall on your face, good. Falling is a skill too, and you may as well learn it in training.”

As the group began to jog, Michael attempted to synchronize his mana flow with a steady pace, but it was like trying to balance two conflicting rhythms. Every time his focus shifted to mana flow, his steps faltered, and concentrating on his stride caused his control over the mana to waver.

Isabelle Dubois, on the other hand, seemed to excel, her focused expression accompanying a swift and steady pace, outpacing even her performance from the previous day. Lex and Elisabetta ran side by side, each displaying their unique strengths; Lex with his physical conditioning and Elisabetta with her superior mana control. Maria, although slower, remained unwaveringly focused, the determination in her stride evident.

As Michael pushed himself to catch up with Elisabetta, he couldn’t help but notice the graceful way she moved, even in exhaustion. Her face, flushed from the effort, somehow made her more captivating. Their eyes met briefly, and she flashed an encouraging smile before refocusing on her run.

"Keep your eyes on the path, Michael," Valeria’s stern voice snapped him back to reality. Blushing, he quickly redirected his gaze forward.

Cindy’s teasing voice echoed in his mind. “Boys are so dumb. You can’t focus on training to save the multiverse because you’re distracted by how her sweat glistens?”

Despite Cindy’s jibes, Michael refocused on the task at hand, finding a rhythm in the dual challenge of running and mana manipulation. His body ached, and his breathing grew labored, the strain on his muscles competing with the exhilaration of pushing his limits.

Glancing towards the classroom as another Paladin was called for their interview, he saw Jack Benally emerge, his expression a mix of inscrutability and subtle satisfaction, a surprise to Michael given Benally's apparent disdain for General Eldric. ‘Number 9 now,’ he noted, realizing his own turn was rapidly approaching.

As Michael persevered through the relentless training, the physical demands escalated. Valeria, ever the astute instructor, granted them a brief respite for water and lunch. The break was short-lived, however, as they were soon back to running, this time burdened with added weights. Michael's pace slowed to a mere jog under the new strain, but his determination did not waver. Despite Valeria allowing occasional breaks, he pushed himself to keep moving, the weights a tangible reminder of the increasing challenges he would face as a Paladin.

The intensity of the training blurred his perception of time, and he barely noticed as the next four Paladins returned from their interviews with General Eldric. His focus was entirely on the task at hand, each step a testament to his growing endurance and willpower.

Suddenly, slicing through his concentration, General Eldric’s voice boomed, “Number 13!” Startled, Michael realized it was his turn for the interview. Without hesitation, he broke into a dash towards the classroom, his fatigue momentarily forgotten in a surge of adrenaline and excitement.

The possibility of what lay ahead electrified Michael. In just one day, he had tapped into powers that defied his wildest imaginations, and it was clear that this was merely the beginning. The simple act of enhancing his mana flow was already transforming him, promising a level of physical prowess that would surpass any mortal athlete. The thought of what other abilities and skills he might develop sent a thrill through his exhausted body.

Arriving at the classroom, he paused for a moment to catch his breath, his heart racing not just from the exertion but also from anticipation. The interview with General Eldric wasn't just a formality; it was a gateway to his future in this new world, a world where he could redefine himself and achieve the extraordinary.

Stepping into the classroom, Michael composed himself. He was ready to face whatever questions or challenges General Eldric had in store. This was his chance to demonstrate his potential and commitment to becoming a Paladin of Aethel. As he sat down, facing the General, a mix of excitement and determination settled within him. The journey ahead was daunting, but Michael was eager to embrace it, to transform his dreams of power and purpose into reality.