Rui opened his eyes slowly. An clear sky entered his field of vision.
He frowned.
Where was he?
He got up to his feet as he gazed forward, squinting as his eyes adjusted. A beautiful landscape extended as far as the eye could see as he gazed down at the breathtaking sight, appreciating its beauty.
But he was still confused.
He turned around, glancing at what was behind him, yet what he saw shook him to his very core.
He saw a path.
A path with profound depth.
A path he was on.
Yet what shook him wasn’t the path itself.
No.
What truly shook him was treacherous calamities the path winded through.
Monsters.
Earthquakes.
Meteorites.
Land-breaks.
A torrent of devastating catastrophes littered his path.
It was a horrifying sight that inspired primal terror.
And yet, it inspired awe.
Through his terror, he could see profound boundless beauty in that path.
The path enchanted him, mesmerizing him, whispering to him.
It was a path he wanted to walk down.
And yet, when he took his first step, the world shattered into countless pieces fading away.
He woke up a shock, jerking upright as he gasped for breath.
He glanced around spotting his squire instructors immediately.
He squinted, dazed, completely confused. It took him a few moments to remember what had happened.
(‘The same dream again…’) He thought to himself.
“Wait, what happened to my match?” His eyes widened as he glanced at them.
They were both silent for a moment.
“You lost.” Squire Kyrie straightforwardly told him impassively. “You managed to get her with the Stinger, inflicting a critical wound. But the damage you took from her last strike had crossed the threshold, you fell unconscious not fifteen seconds later.”
“…I see.” Rui sighed, closing his eyes.
He was expressionless, but inwardly he concealed immense disappointment and frustration. He had given that fight his everything, but not even his everything was enough.
He took a deep breath as he exhaled deeply, shaking his head.
“If it’s of any consolation.” Squire Dylon said. “Your performance surpassed my every expectation. You’re not even a two-year-old Martial Apprentice and you went against a monstrous prodigy that has been cultivating techniques for six years. The odds were stacked against you in every way, in every possible parameter, yet you managed to not only push her going all-out but inflicted a critical wound that threatened to lose her the match. Frankly, she also got a little lucky there at the end.”
Squire Kyrie nodded at his words. “Remember what I told you before the preliminary contest. Your Martial Path extends far beyond the Martial Contest, this is merely a checkpoint in your life. Do not let this halt or hinder your journey. You will one day achieve power that beggars the imagination.”
Squire Kyrie spoke those words with certainty. Yet, she wasn’t lying. The fact that Rui was already half-way to being a Squire Candidate at the age of fourteen was truly astonishing. Furthermore, he had fulfilled the harder and more important condition of Squire candidacy at his tender age.
She was touted as a genius back in her era, yet even she couldn’t begin to even fathom his depths.
(‘The Voidbringer…’) She mused. (‘How fitting.’)
“Thank you, both of you. However, I do not intend to let this failure hold me back.” he said solemnly. “Instead, this failure will make me stronger, stronger than I ever was.”
He stared at his hands, as a slight smile cracked past his gloom.
The Martial Contest had shattered and reforged his world view of what was possible and what wasn’t. It expanded his view of Martial Art was capable of.
His grinned widened as he thought of all the various techniques he would master in his next training stage.
His dark eyes had already left the past, greedily eying the future.
* * * * * * * * * *
Fiona sat on a chair as she gazed outside the window of her room, as she beheld the lively bustling town of Vargard.
A magnificent sparkling cup sat atop a table some distance away, drawing her attention.
It was supposed to be an honour and a matter of boundless prestige, yet she didn’t fell much.
She was in a pensive mood, unsure of what she felt.
No, she knew what she felt. She wasn’t sure about how she felt of what she felt.
Shortly after the match ended, she was declared the Martial Champion and given that cup as the crowd went berserk with cheers and applause.
KNOCK KNOCK
“Come in~” She absentmindedly said.
“Miss.” Her butler bowed.
“What is it?”
“The Master has summoned you.” He said, solemnly.
Fiona simply nodded, having expected that.
She dismissed him as she walked towards the center of the Roschem Family mansion.
,m Towards the center, where the study of Sage Damian Roschem was.
She breathed deeply as she steeled her mind, before knocking.
KNOCK KNOCK
Nothing happened.
Until it did.
The doors opened slowly. Ominously.
Immediately, she gritted her teeth slightly as immense pressure weighed on her, threatening to crush her if she wasn’t strong enough.
She walked in as her eyes fell on the figure seated at the center of the room.
“Fiona.”
He murmured a single word.
Fiona’s eyes fluttered unstably, as she struggled to stay conscious.
A single word.
And she felt limitless, boundless pressure crush down onto her.
A single word.
And she felt as though the very sky itself had converged onto her.
A single word.
And she felt the very core of her consciousness crumbling.
A single word.
“Dad…!” She just barely managed to squeeze out as her vision began blurring
“Hm?” The figure glanced at her. “Ah, I am quite sorry.”
Soon the weight on her mind disappeared as she fell to her knees gasping for air.
“I’m sorry, my precious baby.” He softly murmured sorrowfully, careful of exerting himself. “It is difficult to contain every ounce of my mind. Every once in a while, I let slip of just a tiny bit of it, like now.”
She got up, glaring at him. “Hmph! You say that all the time but it happens every time!”