There was a reason why Force arts were mainly inherited.
Passing down personal style was challenging—after all, even a father and son didn’t share identical approaches or interests. But Force type? That was a different story. Imagine inheriting your parents' genes and physical traits but not their Force type.
Unthinkable.
Force types were intricately tied to physical attributes: body shape, weight, height, limb length and reach, flexibility, eyesight, sense of smell, hearing, taste, and touch. Not to mention spatial and gravity perception, pain and heat tolerance, and even bodily disabilities.
People evolved according to their surroundings too. Smaller eye openings, larger or smaller noses, thicker or thinner lips, varying skin tones, eye colors, and hair colors—all these traits adapted to environmental conditions.
The first generation who created Force arts knew their bodies inside out. They understood their physical qualities so thoroughly that they awakened their Force and crafted a style perfectly suited to their unique attributes.
No matter what one might say, Force art wasn’t created to be an equal struggle for each person like Vision art.
In the diverse types of Force users, there were those who had hit the genetic lottery of great height, weight, and reach. These titans wielded their size like a weapon, opting for colossal instruments of destruction such as halberds and greatswords.
Their style was less about finesse and more about ensuring that when they finally landed a blow, it was devastating enough to be worth the wait. Slow and steady wins the race, they said—though usually after flattening everything in their path.
Then there were the nimble dancers of the battlefield, inheritors of exceptional agility and flexibility. These Force users moved like the wind, masters of dodging and delivering quick, precise strikes.
They favored lighter weapons like daggers or rapiers, priding themselves on being fast, fluid, and about as predictable as a cat on catnip. Their philosophy? "Why get hit when you can prance around your opponent like it's a ballet recital?"
Next up, the sensory savants, those blessed with superior senses. Be it eyesight, hearing, or smell, these Force users had an awareness of their surroundings that bordered on the supernatural.
They exploited this gift with weapons and styles that played to their strengths—archery for the eagle-eyed and stealthy maneuvers for those with bat-like hearing. They were the ones who could hear a pin drop in a battlefield and then shoot it with pinpoint accuracy.
There were also the human tanks, those who inherited outstanding endurance, pain tolerance, and physical resilience. These stalwarts could weather blows that would fell lesser beings, standing firm where others would crumble.
They favored defensive weapons and styles, often acting as living shields for their allies. Their motto? "You can't hurt me if I'm too stubborn to fall."
The speed demons were always a blur on the battlefield, inheriting exceptional speed to the point where they seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once.
They struck and retreated before their enemies even knew what hit them, favoring light, fast weapons. Their entire strategy revolved around hit-and-run tactics, leaving their foes spinning in confusion.
Then there were those with superior spatial and gravity perception. These individuals had an uncanny ability to judge distances and trajectories, making them deadly accurate.
They preferred ranged weapons or throwing weapons, utilizing their inherent understanding of physics to devastating effect. They could probably win a game of darts with their eyes closed.
Among them were the adaptive fighters, those who inherited specific adaptations to their environment. Whether it was a keen sense of smell or excellent night vision, these Force users tailored their combat styles to exploit these traits.
They often used unique or unusual weapons that matched their specific attributes, proving that there's a tool for every job, especially if you're inventive enough.
And finally, there were the resilient reformers, Force users who inherited bodily disabilities but turned these perceived disadvantages into strengths.
They crafted a Force type that compensated for their disabilities, often becoming more formidable than their so-called 'able-bodied' peers. They took the phrase "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" to an entirely new level.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
These Force types were just a glimpse into Force arts. It was a testament to the adaptability and innovative spirit of the creations, ever evolving and refining their understanding of the Force.
So, essentially, it was a bit like turning a family recipe into a fast-food franchise. The secret sauce got passed down through the generations, maintaining its core flavor, but over time it was commercialized, packaged, and sold as a "type".
And now? Well, everyone became a connoisseur. They were no longer satisfied with just "spicy" or "sweet". They wanted to categorize the types based on every imaginable trait: the cutlery used, the cooking technique, the ideal temperature, the pairings.
Was it a steak knife Force or a butter knife Force? Would it be a stir-fry or a slow roast? Was it served hot or cold? Did it go well with a side of stealth or a dollop of destruction?
But…
"Your father had his own style of Force that I’m sure wasn’t passed down from his parents. Yet, it was unmistakably the Edensor Royal Family’s Force art."
Style.
Something that couldn’t be inherited easily and could differ wildly from a Force user's parents or ancestors.
"Edensor Royal Family’s Force art? Flashy. Powerful. Forceful. They wielded their great physique and raw strength like a battering ram, bolstered by tank-like endurance. You see, like Soulnaught, the first king of Edensor was a warrior knight. He fought valiantly with honor, so naturally, it was supposed to be a straightforward, no-nonsense type," Burn explained.
He knew this not just because he had seen Belezak fight, but also because he had witnessed the Edensor Royal Family branches in action. All those who inherited the Force art had this straightforward, smash-you-in-the-face feeling.
Except for King Belezak himself.
Oh, of course, he could smash you, no question, but…
"What's the word... he's... patient," Burn muttered, a shiver running down his spine. "And understanding."
"Loving, as you said?" Yvain asked, finishing his weighted plank.
"That," Burn nodded. "I first thought that his style, despite the Force art his family taught him, was more subdued, more humble, more benign and unflashy, but still straightforward and strong. I figured he was just conserving his energy and hiding his power. But I was wrong."
“Actually, he was just… being kind,” Burn muttered. “Belezak approached everything with his political point of view.”
“I thought he was looking down at his students, or he wasn’t serious at all, but actually, he was being ‘political’!” Burn emphasized on the word political.
In truth, the word "political" didn’t mean just a mere act of manipulation or deception, as Burn had initially assumed. It wasn't about looking down on others or conserving one's power behind a mask of humility.
Well, it was much more cunning and admirable than that.
Belezak, with his patience and understanding, his seemingly subdued style and humble demeanor, was actually having a fucking “political” blast. He approached situations not with arrogance or indifference, but with a strategic mind and a diplomatic finesse that few could match.
While Burn had thought Belezak was simply being kind, in reality, he was exercising a level of wisdom and foresight that surpassed mere kindness. Every move, every word he taught was carefully chosen not out of weakness but out of a keen awareness of the political landscape surrounding him.
To Burn's surprise, what he had mistaken for aloofness or lack of seriousness was actually a calculated approach to understanding and navigating the complexities of relationships and power dynamics between his students.
Belezak wasn't holding back his power; he was channeling it through the channels of influence and persuasion, like a true political virtuoso.
In fucking Force training!
So, being "political" in Belezak's world wasn't about conniving schemes or selfish gains. It was about being strategic, about knowing when to assert oneself and when to yield, about seeing the bigger picture and choosing the path that best served not only oneself but others as well.
He even put “Love” into “Politics”!
Belezak defined “Politics” in its most literal sense, as "Being Wise" and "Doing What’s Best in Certain Situations for Everyone’s Equal Benefit."
In Belezak's world, politics was a harmonious utopia where everyone skips hand in hand towards equal benefit, like a children content with fewer singing animals and more diplomatic resolutions. It was a beautiful, rose-tinted view of the cutthroat world of politics, but he was determined to make it work.
"But he wasn’t naive like you. He knew full well of reality and what it could do to him," Burn said. "Too bad that only knowing could bring him so far."
“So… for Father, his power was never about power itself. It was always about his ultimate intention?" Yvain asked. "You mean, he would mold his Force to create a fight that wasn’t for the sake of fighting itself, but to change people's minds?"
“Yes," Burn said. “It was explainable and unexplainable at the same time. Force, in the end, is an art that was created by creations. Thus, intention could, in theory, be its best window for mastery."
Yvain fell into silence. Intention… "It’s the complete opposite of specialties in Vision art…"
“That sounds so clear.”
Suddenly Morgan said.
Burn and Yvain turned to the woman who had been sprawled on the ground just a moment ago, listening to their conversation all this time. She now lay sideways on the ground and no one saw her transition from a floor ornament to an alluring accidental seductress.
“I’ve never heard Force art being explained so clearly to me like this. I understand it better now,” she said.