[Author's Note: Thanks for the thousand views. Let's strive for over 9000. Hehe, lol.]
...
"Alto, initiate the Final Stage... "
"Inception."
A handsome man, spoke softly to himself as he tried to keep a calm expression despite clearly being an inch away from madness.
Holding his face to stop himself from laughing, he patiently waited for Alto to execute his command.
Unfortunately, his intelligible words did nothing to hide the wisps of insanity that enshrouded his being.
It was almost time. His life's work whispered to him by the voice... This time he would succeed.
His tired eyes finally brimming with a previously non-existent vitality.
"Alto, release containment #12." The man's breath quickened. One could only assume that this was his 12th time trying this... experiment.
He looked towards the crystal container, it seemed both translucent and yet opaque. It had a mystique effect making one doubt whether it was real.
It was filled to the brim with a white substance, that seemed gelatinous.
It moved around in ways that showed a certain form of sentience.
Moving within its container as if trapped at its seams.
One could make out the outline of a small humanoid creature within its contents, but the substance wasn't exactly see-through.
The heart of the creature, lightened by veins seemed to pulsate and resonate, with a golden dew. It seemed as if each breath bore something new.
CRACK!
The crystal having served its purpose, shattered, no longer being able to contain the strange liquid.
Shards flew out in all directions easily breaking through the reinforced lab walls. Their material gave off a unique oppressive aura, yet did nothing to stop the momentum of the shards.
Yet not a single shard of the crystal-like material touched the man's body.
Whether by chance and fate or by pure skill, maybe only he knew.
His eyes were completely focused on the body of the child that remained, or more specifically the beating heart.
This was it! His life purpose! His grip tightened around his mouth as his body grew restless.
"My... No. A SOVEREIGN!"
He... No... 'IT' had opened its eyes.
...
Slowly gaining cognition, Tristan opened up his eyes, but as he tried to sit up, pains hit him like a speeding truck!
His body seemed to have finally hit its limit. That's what he got for straining it body. He hadn't had sleep for three days before this. It was a miracle he managed to come off as energetic.
He... 'offended' a certain group he shouldn't have. The only thing helping him was that they didn't know how he looked or his name. Not his real one at least.
Slowing down and taking his time to balance himself, he finally sat upright holding his aching head.
Looking at the spacious bed, he was confused.
"When did I get in?" He spoke absentmindedly. He was sure he fell asleep on the floor... unless?
He quickly removed the covers at the cost of pain but heaved a sigh of relief when he noticed his clothes were still on.
He thought the maids had had their way with him, or worse yet...Olivia!
Somewhere in the mansion, Olivia sneezed.
He looked around at the white room. There wasn't anything of luxury in here. He grew up in an environment that didn't allow for any distractions.
It wasn't that it was abusive or anything it was just that the concept of fun wasn't taught to him in the same way.
Maybe at some point, he could see the vibrant colors of the world but they had long since faded, turned to strands and lines of data.
It was always one experiment after another, one research after another...
He sat there and looked at the room for a while. He still was unsure of how Lilia managed to achieve this. It truly was the same. His emotions were boiling...
Time ticked. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes to an hour.
It wasn't until over an hour that his mood had calmed. He wasn't sour but he was quite unsure how to feel.
Finally, he got off the bed, stretching his limbs a bit.
He had turned from overly zealous to rather quiet, his perpetual smile was all but gone, his eyes dull. The change might surprise those who knew him but only he knew that this was his baseline.
The fake smiles, the fake confidence, it was all so... tiring.
He tended to overthink it and his brain was constantly overclocking itself. But in rare moments like this, all there was, was silence.
Entering the bath area, he removed his clothes, into the shower, and started scrubbing. Once again there wasn't much in the premise of it. A slab of soap, a sponge, toothpaste, toothbrush.
Soon enough, he rinsed off his body and put on a change of clothes. It was a pair of black joggers and a grey vest. He saw no need to wear the jacket since he wasn't planning to go anywhere.
Almost as if on cue his face changed. His features became more refined, but it also revealed the dark bags under his eyes.
This was his real face... Sure he was more handsome but it was kind of hard to approach people with the deadbeat tired look in his eyes.
Looking in the mirror his face turned bitter, "Sigh even with my improved sleeping habits these things still aren't going away."
Sigh he went from sleeping once a week to once every few days and yet... If only he realized that none of those patterns were conducive.
But despite that, it did nothing to depreciate his looks. He looked even more handsome than he did with the disguise.
A mole was growing under his lips and his hair was brown and messy yet he looked more handsome than even some of Elvin Bloodline's.
Soon enough he was done with his hygiene. Entering the room again he was tempted to do some experiments but decided against it, instead, he found a space and slipped into a meditative state.
['Daigram's Breath.']
Arc, The Stream of Neutrality. Also known by everyone as a means of enforcing their concepts on the World and taking hold of their own power in the truest sense.
It was a system that rewarded those willing to go the extra mile, but it was not the only way to gain power, as Martial Arts still existed in its truest form.
Martial Arts were called as such because it depended entirely on the body's potential to improve, the higher the body's potential the stronger the Martial Art.
But what was interesting was Arc increased the body's potential, meaning two people could have the same mastery of a Martial Art, and the difference between them would be their Arc.
He created this Martial Art. Of course, someone who hadn't seen the Martial Art would call him quite arrogant considering its name.
Each person was unique and no particular Martial Art would fit all molds. So there were two paths usually taken by the natives of Diagram.
The common people or those who were not necessarily talented would take the Martial Techniques and Arts of their Ancestors or Masters and spend their lives trying to bring them to a Realm of Individuality.
The Realm of Individuality allowed one to express a technique as if one were no different from the creator, essentially creating a brand new martial art.
Tristan on the other hand stepped onto a path perhaps only geniuses dared to step into. That was creating a Martial Art. One of the reasons Tristan was able to move entirely unnoticed was due to his Martial Art.
He described it as, achieving all within Diagram's Breath. He would achieve all that he needed to within a breath, and if he couldn't the world would achieve it.
Someone who didn't understand might mistake it for speed, but it had nothing to do with how fast one was moving.
He seemed able to slip into a state of oneness with the world. When he moved with the world, the world moved with him.
His every action would do exactly what he wanted it to. There was no separation between body and mind.
He had somehow been born with this unique constitution, which was also why he grasped movement and momentum easily. Meaning this Martial Art would only ever be able to be learned by him.
Well, maybe calling it a constitution was stretching it. The Humans of this world were born with absolutely nothing special about them.
Beyond their intelligence, they were absolutely mediocre.
But he truly felt a sort of connection, it felt great but also brought him sorrow. Was this where the gap between races was?
Something as simple as understanding and feeling the world around you better?
He cleared his thoughts and continued his movements.
Getting into a basic horse stance his whole demeanor seemed to change.
He punched out, his fists throwing out the most basic of punches, but the lines between known and unknown were quickly crossed.
At a certain point, it seemed he was creating a new basic stance for every time he punched out, the resonance between each set movement stacking on themselves.
His legs separated falling into a split as he flipped himself back up and into the initial stance.
From there his movements became more erratic like that of a flickering flame, unsure of when it would burn out or how long it would stay on.
All his movements which should have been the bare basics gained a subtle hint of complexity that made it hard to follow.
Even the weakest of elements had their strengths, even the punch of a mortal could shatter the world.
Punching out once more he used the force as leverage to deliver a roundhouse kick, which came down with a force that demanded submission.
3 forms that displayed the ingenuity of man.
Flexibility, Unpredictability, and Command!
Taking a deep breath he came to a stop. Sweat covered his body.
It had already been roughly an hour. He had pretty much perfected his form for the 1st Act. To advance further, he would need to form his Diagram.
With his level of expertise, maybe only his father could point out any flaws.
After doing a light warm-up to keep his body and mind active he wiped himself down.