Alfred's demeanor shifted, his tone filled with reverence and acknowledgement as he spoke of the Dracir Martial Technique's past glory. He emphasized its true worth and the path it once illustrated:
"Young master, to truly understand the genesis of the Heimarch Technique and its relation to the former, we must indulge in the past grandeur of the Dracir Martial Technique; a legacy that once stood as a testament to the harmony between a practitioner and the lifeforce that flows through all things. It was a beacon of mastery, a path that connected its followers to the very essence of existence."
He paused, his words dripping with respect. "In its glory, the Dracir Technique allowed practitioners to tap into the lifeforce, weaving its power into a dance of essence that transcended mere combat. It was a celebration of balance, of connection, and a tribute to the world's lifeforce itself. It was not the first of its kind, but do not let this fact diminish its grandeur; for it was the founders of this art that truly deserves credit. Its founders, the initial rulers of the Dracir empire sought to spread their own creation to their people essentially for free as they had great foresight in achieving true power and magnanimity."
"The Dracir martial technique was truly one of a kind as it overshadowed its competitors through many instances of its superior practitioners triumphing others in terms of foundational stability and resonance with the lifeforce. This along with its availability, turned the Dracir empire into the behemoth that it is today."
Alfred's voice grew somber as he continued, shifting the focus to where the empire had gone astray. "But, a malicious greed ensured for years to come; the descendants of the esteemed founders became increasingly obsessive towards their imposition of selfish desires which continued to worsen overtime. The technique they had once created for the Dracir people which was free for everyone now became restricted. The founders descendants swayed by their thirst for dominance and control sought to harness the technique for their own gain, to wield power over the very essence that practitioners had once nurtured."
His gaze held a touch of sadness as he continued, "The empire soon started imposing one-sided contracts upon practitioners, seeking to bind them to its will and manipulate their potential. The technique as you know describes eight stages of mastery; three of which are given for 'free' to legionnaires and Tiros alike. However, the final five stages of the technique are locked behind closed walls. To truly have access to these stages and their profound knowledge; one must lay down their utmost freedom and offer extreme loyalty to the empire through underhanded means."
Alfred's voice carried the weight of the empire's missteps. "The empire's actions turned the Dracir Technique into a tool for its own desires, disregarding the sacred promises of its founders. It was no longer about mastery; it became a mechanism to bolster the empire's power. This betrayal soon fueled the resentment among those who recognized the tarnishing of the technique's purity. Your ancestors, among others, saw through the empire's self-serving motives."
Alfred's voice grew firmer, his eyes flashing with a hint of indignation. "The empire's actions instilled a desire for change; a desire that burned within their hearts. They refused to be mere pawns in the empire's power games, and thus, they embarked on a journey to create something new."
He gestured to the present, where Apollo stood as a descendant of ingenious rebels. "Your ancestors among others, in their defiance, recognized this grave injustice. Using the initial three stages of mastery contained within the Dracir martial technique as inspiration, they toiled and researched for countless years through many generations, driven by a deep ambition and a fierce pride—a pride that refused to let their descendants become mere tools for the empire's whims."
Alfred's voice held a note of admiration for the sacrifices made. "They knew the empire's desires were rooted in selfishness, in the thirst for control. The Heimarch Technique among many, became your ancestor's lifework, a manifestation of their ambition, and a testament to their unwavering commitment to your lineage."
He paused, his voice carrying the weight of their determination. "Through their sacrifices, they proved that they, too, could create something grand; a form of silenced rebellion against the empire's tyranny. The Heimarch Technique stands as a monument to House Heimarch's resilience, their ingenuity, and their refusal to bow to a power that sought to subjugate."
Alfred's gaze held unwavering respect for past achievements. "Young master, as you stand here today, remember the sacrifices and hard work of your ancestors. The Heimarch Technique is not just a legacy of defiance; it's a legacy of purpose aimed to overcome any challenge that may come your way."
He concluded with a nod, a mentor acknowledging the grandeur of a legacy built upon the foundations of rebellion and love. "Embrace the Heimarch Technique with the understanding that it is a testament to their ambition, their pride, and their belief in a future where you stand as masters of your own destiny."
Apollo's analytical gaze held a touch of empathy as he contemplated Alfred's account of the empire's actions and the subsequent creation of the Heimarch Technique. His mind wove a tapestry of perspectives, considering both sides of the equation.
'The empire's motives weren't purely driven by malice,' he thought, acknowledging the complexities of power dynamics. 'Their desire for control might have stemmed from a need to maintain order and protect their interests.'
As he listened further, Apollo's focus turned inward, seeking the nuances within the situation. 'But their approach was flawed—a one-sided contract imposed upon those who had invested their essence and dedication. It stifled growth, turned a pursuit of mastery into a tool of manipulation.'
He nodded inwardly, aligning with the logic that had driven his ancestors' defiance. 'In a way, the empire's attempts at control were misguided. An open approach, allowing practitioners to thrive without restraints, could have resulted in a stronger connection between warriors and the lifeforce.'
Apollo's expression remained thoughtful, his consideration extending even to the empire's viewpoint. 'A balance could have been struck—an acknowledgment of their authority combined with a respect for the practitioners' autonomy. It's a missed opportunity that led to this fracture.'
He glanced back at Alfred, his gaze indicating his understanding. 'The Heimarch Technique became the response to that missed opportunity—a defiance that sought to rectify the mistakes of the past. An innovation born from necessity and driven by a vision of a brighter future.'
His eyes glinted with determination as he looked forward. 'I must consider both perspectives. While the empire's actions were flawed, they provide valuable lessons. The path I choose should be one that embraces autonomy and empowerment while also acknowledging the need for order and structure.'
Apollo's thoughts melded reason and empathy, paving the way for his own journey. 'The Heimarch Technique becomes not just a legacy of rebellion, but a reminder that we must learn from past missteps to shape a future where power is wielded responsibly and potential is nurtured without restraint' he agreed with Alfred's sentiments.
Apollyon's contemplative expression turned slightly more assertive as he considered the implications of the two techniques. With a measured tone, he posed a question to Alfredo that reflected the decision he now grappled with.
"Alfred, as I reflect on the narratives of both the Dracir and Heimarch Techniques, a question arises; one that may guide my journey. Should I focus on mastering one technique exclusively, or would it be advantageous to practice both?"
His gaze held a hint of inquiry, seeking Alfredo's insights. "The Dracir Technique, for all its initial glory, has been tainted by the empire's imposition. Yet, it remains a symbol of mastery and connection to the lifeforce. On the other hand, the Heimarch Technique carries the legacy of my ingenious ancestors, a testament to innovation and defiance."
Apollyon's voice remained steady as he continued thinking of a new possibility, "Each technique holds its own significance and potential. By mastering both, could I bridge the gap between the past and the future? Could I create a harmony that embodies the balance both techniques originally aimed for?"
He paused, his thoughts forming a clear path. "However, I also recognize the risk of diluting my focus. Combining the two might spread my energies thin, preventing me from reaching the true depth of either technique."
Apollyon's eyes met Alfredo's, a mix of determination and uncertainty within them. "What do you advise, Alfredo? Should I strive to master both techniques or choose one path to walk with unwavering dedication?"
His question hung in the air, he already knew the answer to his question but he was curious as to what Alfred would say since he wouldn't call himself an expert in this regard.
Alfred's response carried a firm resolve, underlined by the weight of experience and understanding. His gaze met Apollo's, his words conveying a clear direction.
"Young master, in the face of your choice, I advise you to focus your efforts on mastering the Heimarch Technique." His voice held an unwavering conviction. "The Dracir Technique, while once magnificent, is now ensnared in the empire's grasp. To pursue it would be to place yourself under their control."
He paused, his tone emphasizing the importance of autonomy. "The Heimarch Technique, on the other hand, emerged from the desire for autonomy and innovation. It embodies the defiance and resilience of your ancestors; a legacy free from the empire's constraints. It enables you to shape your destiny without the shadows of the empire looming over you."
He gestured to the path ahead. "As for the idea of finding a balance between the two, I must advise against it. Even your ingenious ancestors dedicated countless years to their pursuit. Balancing the mastery of two distinct techniques is a formidable challenge. One that demands an investment of foresight, experience, time, effort, and focus."
Alfredo's voice held a note of caution. "Attempting to balance them would indeed stretch your energies thin, hindering your progress and growth in both. It's a path that could lead to mastery in neither."
He concluded with a touch of wisdom, a mentor guiding his charge. "Young master, your youth is a precious resource. To invest it in the pursuit of dual mastery would be to squander the potential for true excellence. Focus on the Heimarch Technique and embrace it fully for it allows you to embody your ancestor's legacy, a testament to your own autonomy and innovation."
With those words, Alfredo left Apollyon with a clear direction, a choice that aligned with his own autonomy and the legacy of those who had come before him; a legacy that resonated with defiance and innovation against the empire's grasp.
'Just as I expected', Apollo's anticipation met reality as Alfredo's advice aligned with his expectations. He hadn't been blind to the glaring pitfalls of the Dracir Technique, its ties to the empire's manipulation clear in his mind's eye. The thought of becoming a pawn under their calculated control was a path he simply wouldn't tread.
He felt a sense of duty, a responsibility to uphold the ideals his brilliant ancestors had etched into the fabric of the Heimarch Technique. Their legacy was a torch he carried, a defiance that resonated with his very essence. Their choice to rebel against the empire's grip became a roadmap for his own journey; an unwavering path of autonomy.
He wasn't deluded by his own capabilities; he recognized the impracticality of attempting to balance the mastery of both techniques. Such a feat would require an uncanny foresight, and he was realistic about his limitations. He knew that to truly excel, he needed to focus his energies, channeling them into the technique that symbolized his autonomy, innovation, and the vision of a better future.
'Oh right', he suddenly remembered, Apollo cleared his throat, his gaze meeting Alfred's as he found the words to broach the topic that had been on his mind. "Alfred," he began, his voice carrying a mixture of earnestness and curiosity, "I don't wish to find myself in a similar situation as earlier, scouring the camp for your presence. Is there a way I could reach out to you, to seek your guidance or company, without the need for a prolonged search?"
Alfred regarded him with those enigmatic eyes, his gaze distant for a moment as if he was considering the question deeply. The air seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his response. Then, with a subtle smile, he leaned back against the tree, his posture relaxed yet brimming with a quiet confidence.
"Young master," Alfredo finally spoke, his voice carrying a soothing cadence that resonated with the mystical surroundings, "there is no need for elaborate rituals or complicated methods."
Alfred's smile deepened, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and wisdom. "I have a way of knowing when you wish to reach out, when your thoughts are directed towards our connection. Just as you did earlier, all you need to do is call out to me, even if it's a mere whisper on the wind. I will ensure that your call reaches me, no matter where I am."
Apollyon's suspicion stirred, a flicker of doubt clouding his initial appreciation for the elegant solution. "Hold on, Alfred," he said, his voice firm.
"What you're saying implies that you've known all along when I was searching for you, even before this moment. Yet, you chose not to respond until now. Why?" he pressed with furrowed brows.
Alfred's gaze met Apollo's with an unwavering steadiness, his forehead a little moist. "You're perceptive, as always, Young master" he admitted, his tone holding a note of evasion. "Yes, I've been aware of your search. But sometimes, the reasons behind timing are more intricate than they seem."
Apollyon leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Elaborate, Alfred. I need to understand" he said slowly, word for word.
Alfred's expression grew serious, his gaze holding Apollyon's without hesitation. "There are moments when a pause is necessary. To allow events to unfold, to grant individuals the space to grow, to find their own paths. In this case, it was important for you to embark on that search, to navigate the challenge on your own. It is in those moments of journey that the true strength of character is revealed" he tried to convince.
'Bullshit', Apollyon's suspicion remained, "So, you're saying that you were observing, waiting to see how I would handle the situation?"
"Observing, yes. Waiting, yes. But not in the way you might think," Alfred explained. "I knew that you would find a way, as you always do. And now, here we are, in a space of clarity and trust."
"Ah, flattery will get you nowhere, uncle", Apollo said his voice laden with obvious sarcasm. He was now aware that his butler had played a trick on him, but he decided to let it go since he was unbothered to press him further.
"Alright enough with the nonsense, lets continue where we left of yesterday."
"Certainly sire, follow me", Alfred ushered whilst wiping his forehead with a cloth.
Alfred's gaze turned to the radiant lattice of light that surrounded them, its intricate patterns glowing softly in the moonlit clearing. With a graceful swing of his hands the lattice of light gradually began to contract, its lines weaving back together in a mesmerizing dance. The intricate patterns folded in upon themselves, merging and melding like water droplets reuniting on a surface. With each movement, the barrier's radiant glow dimmed, its ethereal presence receding.
Apollo watched in fascination as the magical lattice transformed, its brilliance gradually waning until it resembled a delicate thread of light. With one final flourish of Alfred's fingers, the lattice dissipated entirely, the last remnants of its energy dispersing into the night like fading stars.
"To the western courtyard, nephew" motioned Alfredo, his tone now much rougher, his posture now hunched as he walked with measured steps.
Alfredo taught Apollyon the Heimarch martial technique with precision and consideration for a couple of hours. He emphasized on resonating with the lifeforce via distinct battle movements in order to increase Apollyon's activation energy reserves.
This continued until it was time for the boy to head back to his barracks. His gaze landed on Willard's bunk, where a scene unfolded that was both amusing and predictable. Willard lay sprawled on his bed, an image of exhaustion. His features bore the weariness of someone who had just experienced the harsh realities of construction work firsthand. Apollyon's lips twitched with a mixture of pity and amusement; he had anticipated that Willard's enthusiasm might meet the reality of the tasks with a bit of a shock.
He approached Willard's bunk, his expression a carefully crafted mask of concern. With mock surprise, he exclaimed, "Willard, you look like you've been through a battle!"
Willard's eyes opened, and a tired smile formed on his lips. "Apollyon," he greeted, his voice carrying a weary but undaunted tone. "You have no idea how tough these construction tasks can be. But I feel accomplished; I…I did my part."
Apollyon couldn't help but find Willard's enduring enthusiasm somewhat respectable, even if it was somewhat misguided. He leaned against a nearby bunk, his gaze fixed on Willard with a mixture of amusement and understanding. "I can see that, Willard. You've certainly thrown yourself into the thick of things."
Willard's tired but determined eyes met Apollyon's gaze. "Absolutely. I mean, it was hard work, no doubt, but I feel like I've made a difference. I'm learning, adapting, just like you said."
Apollyon's lips curved into a faint smile, his admiration for Willard's tenacity mixed with a sense of knowing. "You're definitely adapting, that's for sure."
Willard's expression shifted to one of confusion, as if he detected something underlying Apollyon's words. "Is something... off?"
Apollyon's smile remained enigmatic as he shook his head. "Not at all, Willard. I'm just glad to see your determination. It's impressive, really" he convinced the naïve boy.
Willard's smile widened, seemingly unaffected by the underlying tone of Apollyon's words. "Thanks, brother. I appreciate your support. I'm going to keep working hard, prove that I can handle even the toughest tasks."
As Apollyon regarded Willard, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of admiration and concern. Willard's unwavering eagerness, despite the clear toll it had taken on him, spoke to a certain resilience, it was a quality that was both admirable and a tad worrisome.
'He's not letting up,' Apollyon thought, a mixture of amusement and a touch of pity tugging at him. 'He's still driven by that same idealism'.
"Keep at it, Willard," Apollyon encouraged, his voice sincere even as his amusement lingered. "Just remember that while determination is important, pacing yourself is just as crucial. You're in this for the long haul."
Willard's tired eyes sparkled with a renewed sense of purpose, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Thanks, brother I'll take your advice to heart. And hey, maybe tomorrow I'll pick an even tougher task."
Apollyon couldn't help but chuckle softly at Willard's unyielding spirit. "I have no doubt you will. Rest up, though. You'll need all the energy you can muster" he said whilst shaking his head.
Afterwards, Apollyon retrieved a large book from his personal satchel and began revising with purpose. It was the same book that his former tutor, Timothy had gifted him; the book which detailed the "Promethian" language. Apollo never forgot to read and revise this book everyday in hopes of one day being fluent in its language. He was preparing for his future.
Subsequently, Apollyon as strategic as he was, underwent his routine of Push-ups, sit-ups and squats once again before meditating the Wim Hof breathing technique for the remainder of the night. And when all of that was gone and out of the way; he finally laid back on his bunk bed equally as tired as Willard, ushering a single word as he stared mindlessly at the ceiling.
"Overview."
Apollo Kraisler Heimarch
Level: 1 {50/1000 (5.0%)}
Age: 6
Race: Human (Eretrian)
Title: None
Realm: - Energy Refinement (1st)
- Initiate
Affiliation: - Eretrian Noble
- Dracir Tiro
Resource:
Health: 72
Stamina: 37.60
Mana: 23.25
Body Energy: 35.50
Stats
Strength: 0.91
Agility: 0.65
Intelligence: 1.52
Constitution: 0.72
Leadership: 0.23
Recovery: 0.30
Martial Techniques
- Heimarch Martial Technique: Lvl 1 (42%)
Martial Skills
None
Magic Technique
- Wim Hof Breathing Technique: Lvl 2 (11%)
Magic Skills
None
Combat Proficiencies
- Basic Swordsmanship: Lvl 2 (52%)
- Basic Archery: Lvl 2 (32%)
Miscellaneous Skills
- Eretian Language: Lvl 10 (Max)
- Promethian Language: Lvl 2 (5%)
Statuses
- Rejuvenated: Slight increase in vigor (3 minutes, 52 seconds)
Equipment Stats
None