Chapter 10: Knowledge is Power

The sun streamed through the large windows of the Astrea Knowledge Academy classroom, casting a soft glow on the dark wooden desks. The students, mostly eager young people, sat in silence as Professor Zaran prepared for the lesson.

The professor was a man of advanced age, around forty, although there was something about his demeanor that suggested he could be even older. His mastery of martial arts, though not focused on direct combat, seemed to keep his body and mind younger than his appearance suggested. His gray hair framed his face, perhaps a mark of a past life filled with challenges, but his deep green eyes brimmed with vitality, in stark contrast to his hair.

There was something intriguing about him: if you closed your eyes while he spoke, you couldn’t pinpoint his position or age, as if his presence transcended the passage of time. His sharp, penetrating gaze revealed vast accumulated experience, a life dedicated to learning and teaching. He was famous throughout the empire for his immense knowledge and was one of the few to hold the prestigious title of "Sage," an honor reserved only for those who excelled in a discipline. Although martial arts were of vital importance in the empire, no one was foolish enough to underestimate the value of knowledge. No nascent soul, destined for greatness, achieved it without a deep understanding of the world that surrounds them.

Standing at 1.80 meters tall, his body was not overly muscular, but his toned physique and posture clearly showed years of rigorous training. His dark skin gleamed under the light of the empire's finest academy, a place where wisdom and strength intertwined to shape the warriors and leaders of tomorrow.

The importance of the day was palpable in the air; today would not be just another class. Today, he would speak about the power of knowledge.

Zaran walked slowly to the front of the classroom, his cloak billowing behind him as he carefully placed an ancient flute on his desk. It was an instrument from a bygone era, a relic of a lost civilization, which he often used as a symbol of what he was about to teach.

"Knowledge," he began, his deep voice resonating through the room, "is the only thing that separates us from beasts. Animals live in an endless cycle of survival, guided by instinct, but we… we are capable of changing the course of history, of creating art, of shaping our world. And this, my students, is what we call civilization. We have instincts too, but it's up to us to control them."

The room remained silent. The students' eyes were fixed on Zaran, knowing they were about to dive into one of the most important subjects taught at the Academy.

"Look at this instrument," the professor continued, holding the flute up with both hands. "Centuries ago, this flute, and others like it, were common in the hands of a civilization that mastered art and music in ways we can only imagine. They had no prana, no knowledge of our breathing techniques. But their art was proof of their advancement. In fact, art is the clearest evidence of an advanced civilization. Only in times of peace and stability can such things flourish."

He paused, looking at each of the students. He knew this concept was fundamental to understanding the greatness of past civilizations and what it meant to lose all of that.

"Art is a reflection of peace, and peace does not arise by accident. For a civilization to dedicate time to the development of music, painting, or sculpture, it needs a level of technological and cultural progress. Progress that can only come from knowledge. Without that advancement, there is only chaos. And when chaos reigns, as it did centuries ago during the wars that destroyed this civilization, knowledge is lost."

Zaran carefully placed the flute back on the desk, as if the instrument itself contained the echoes of that long-gone civilization. The wars that had changed the course of the world were well-known to all, but what few knew, or were willing to accept, was how much had been lost during those times. The knowledge that once propelled past generations to great heights had been stripped away by destruction, leaving only traces in objects like that flute.

"Some of these instruments are still played, of course, but the full mastery of music they once possessed has vanished," he continued. "And what we lost with them was not just music. It was cultural progress, the ability to think beyond survival, to create for something greater than oneself."

The professor walked to the center of the classroom, letting his words sink into the students' minds.

"Today, although our society seems to be recovering in terms of military power, we are nowhere near that cultural stability. We have managed to create and master breathing techniques and prana, yes, but that is only the beginning. For a society to truly thrive, to be more than just a reflection of strength, we need more than power in battle. We need knowledge. Techniques, art, music… all of this comes from the mind, and the mind can only grow when it is filled with questions and answers."

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Zaran stopped in front of one of the students, a young man with a thoughtful expression.

"Do you know why our breathing techniques are so important?" he asked, though he didn’t expect a direct answer. "Because they are, in their essence, a technological advancement. Our abilities, prana itself, are based on the application of accumulated knowledge. Without understanding, without study, we couldn’t use them. Prana on its own is not power; it is the knowledge of how to use it that turns it into power."

The silence in the room was so profound that you could hear the labored breathing of some of the students. Zaran had them captivated, and he knew it.

“When a civilization dedicates itself to understanding the world through knowledge, it can thrive. It can create wonders like this flute, or techniques like our breathing practices. But when a society neglects knowledge, it stagnates, it regresses. It becomes a slave to its own instincts, like beasts. The true strength of a society lies not only in its armies but in its culture, in its ability to think, to create."

Zaran approached a blank chalkboard and began to draw ancient symbols, fragments of lost knowledge from that previous civilization, to which only a few had access.

“Those who lost their knowledge..." he pointed to the symbols with the chalk, “are no longer among us. But their legacy still lives on in these small pieces, in these remnants of what they once were. And if we are not careful, we could end up the same. Because knowledge is the only thing that separates us from the darkness."

Finally, Zaran placed the chalk down on the desk, his gaze sweeping across each student once more.

“Always remember: knowledge is not a luxury, it is a necessity. Only through it can we overcome the challenges that lie ahead. True power is not in the fist or the sword, but in the mind that knows when to use them... or when not to."

The professor bowed his head slightly, marking the midpoint of the lesson. The students remained in their seats, absorbed in what they had just heard, understanding that today they had learned not only about the past but also about their responsibility for the future.

In the classroom of the Astrea Knowledge Academy, the sound of parchment shuffling and quills scratching paper filled the air. The professor, with a serene yet intense gaze, walked slowly around the room. In his hands, he held a dark wooden staff, which seemed to have appeared as if by magic. He used it not only to support himself but to mark the rhythm of his speech.

"Knowledge," he said firmly, "is what distinguishes us from beasts. It is the light in the darkness of ignorance, the most powerful weapon we can wield. While others are content with brute strength, here, in the Academy, we learn to sharpen our minds just as much as our bodies."

One of the students, a young man with a determined expression and a slight frown, raised his hand. The professor looked at him and nodded, granting him permission to speak.

“Sir," the young man began, hesitant at first but soon regaining confidence, “we understand that knowledge is important… but shouldn’t we focus more on learning how to kill our enemies? After all, it’s the beasts that threaten us."

A murmur spread through the room. Some students nodded in agreement, while others watched with interest, waiting for the professor’s response.

The teacher remained silent for a few seconds, as if weighing each word before speaking. Finally, he spoke.

“It’s a valid question,” he said calmly, “but it reflects an incomplete view of the true purpose of this Academy. Learning how to kill our enemies is, without a doubt, necessary. But if that’s all you learn, then you will only become a tool, another beast among beasts. You will be a sword without thought, blind and directed by others. Wars are not won by brute force alone."

The professor walked toward a window overlooking the Academy's garden, a carefully cultivated place full of life.

“Have you ever heard of the philosophy:a warrior in the garden ?" he asked, without taking his eyes off the landscape.

The young man shook his head.

“It’s simple. It is better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war. Because a warrior in times of peace knows how to cultivate, how to build. But a gardener dragged onto the battlefield, without the knowledge and proper preparation, will be destroyed by the chaos.” The teacher turned to look directly at his students. “If you only train your body to destroy, you will become the very thing you seek to defeat: a blind force that doesn’t understand life or its value."

“But the beasts...” another student insisted.

“The beasts," the professor interrupted, “are only a threat because we face them without understanding. If you learn physics, if you understand the laws of the world, you can predict their movements, understand their nature. A warrior who doesn’t know the world around him is as foolish as a stone. A general without wisdom sends his troops to certain death."

He paused, letting his words sink deep into the students' minds. Then, he smiled slightly.

“This idea that warriors must not be fools comes from an ancient philosopher. The great civilizations of the past, more advanced in art and music than we are, did not achieve such peace through war alone. They did it with knowledge. The instruments we still use, the breathing techniques we apply, all of that is the product of curious and disciplined minds, not just strong hands."

The students remained silent, reflecting on what had just been said. Some of them were beginning to understand that power did not lie solely in the sword, but in the knowledge that would allow them to wield it with purpose.

“In this Academy," the professor concluded, looking at everyone with an intense gaze, “we are not only training you to fight. We are training you to think. So that when the time comes, you will not just be warriors. You will be strategists. Generals. And most importantly, you will know when to fight and when to build. Thousands of lives will be in your hands.

You will be the ones to decide."