Aiden's thirst for blood was becoming a poison to his mind. He yearned to encounter this new species, to discover and meet them. And then he would kill them again and again, asserting his superior strength. But this bloodthirsty endeavor would have to wait until after the first Well of Ascension Ceremony.
Another thought traversed his mind, shifting his maniacal thought process to one of worry. What actually were mid-tier monsters and high-tier monsters? Aiden thought back about the requirements to become an instructor, and now that he had seen the monsters' descriptions and strengths, he felt that they were maybe too harsh.
On the one hand, you need to face off and defeat stronger enemies to be qualified for such a high rank; on the other hand, if 50 High-Tier monsters were things such as Eden's Wood Guardians, then it would be way too overkill. After all, at the end of the ceremony, among dozens of thousands of people, just a few would perhaps surpass 200 in combat power. And the Eden's Guardians, even the weakest, were all close to 200.
The fact that Eden's Wood Guardians consistently appeared in groups of at least 10 was even more frightening. It was clearly impossible for a newly promoted martial artist with over 200 combat powers to fight against 10 such creatures; it would be straight-up suicide.
Hence, Aiden asked in the council chat room, while leaving the church, what monsters were qualified as "high-tier." He got a quick response from Clark: "The only monsters that are considered 'High-Tier' right now are Eden's Wood Guardians." To which Aiden asked, "But then, isn't it a little too hard? Like the requirements for becoming an instructor—you need to kill 50 of such monsters with varying strength that ranges between 150 and 250. Isn't that too much?"
Clark smirked behind his system window's screen and wrote, "Haha, I never would have thought that Aiden, the great visionary who sees ahead of time itself, would place worry as more important than his own foresight. Aiden, do not forget that we will have time to prepare and grow stronger after the first Well of Ascension Ceremony. Also, we will have real weapons and armor, and more experience in fighting monsters by the time we dare to face them. So, for a group of fully armed and experienced martial artists possessing over 230 combat powers, it will be much safer."
Clark's monologue left Aiden speechless; it was all so logical and made perfect sense. Normally, he would have been able to think just as clearly, but now Aiden wondered why he felt as though he had lost his sharpness. This way of thinking—or rather, this way of not thinking—was foreign to him. This wasn't who he was. Realizing this, a sudden stream of clarity burst through his mind, as if he had regained his wisdom and reasoning capabilities.
"Yeah, you are right. I think I might just be tired and couldn't think properly. I take back my useless worries; you guys made the right choice with such requirements. Thanks for answering me," sent Aiden.
This almost concluded their conversation as Clark reminded Aiden about the natural need for rest and that he shouldn't overdo things. Aiden said he would rest more, but he also omitted an important piece of information.
"Before leaving you, I'd like to propose something. As you know, I am the leader of our faction, yet I need to train every day, a lot. This creates a disparity between my obligations as a leader and my own desire for growth, in order to better protect our people. Thus, I wondered if having me for 2 hours per day would be enough to help you all out and satisfy the population?"
"Oh yes, 2 hours per day would be great; that's already far longer than the time you've spent with us for the past seven days, haha. I guess the rest of the time you will train, right?"
"That is good to hear, and yes, I will use the remaining time to train. I have no choice. This is my personal mission and duty, as well as what I want for myself. Do not try to persuade me otherwise."
"Alright, I won't. But be mindful that if you die, you won't be of any use to your people, so please do not kill yourself while training, Aiden."
"This won't happen since Eliotte is here to ensure that I only suffer, but not die."
"Hahaha, this is cruelly funny. I hope things will be fine on your side. Alright, let's make a schedule for you: every day, from 1 pm to 3 pm, is this good for you?"
"It is perfect, now I won't feel guilty when I'm not taking part in a meeting."
"Oh, so you did feel guilty about not upholding your duties properly. Haha, just kidding. I know your concerns and intents. Anyways, I must go urgently; there's been a small conflict at the tavern."
"Glad you understand I'm not fleeing from my duties. Alright, I must also go on my side. I hope this conflict at the tavern is simply a dispute between Liam and Yusouf. Anyways, goodbye Clark, and thanks again."
"You're welcome, Aiden." Finished Clark just before adding a sub-message as a joke, "On my way to beat up Liam and Yusouf." This joke answered Aiden's concern and question regarding the tavern's dispute without starting the conversation again.
After this scheduled appointment, things were more organized. Aiden could now train for hours every day without worries, as well as attend meetings and actually help manage his own clan, as a leader should do. Now, regarding his training, it is true that he had not truly respected his own rule of "No fighting against the dummy until his body is strong enough," but it was only occasional. Now, however, it was different. It was the perfect time to both undergo hard body conditioning and engage in fights against various dummies.
But Aiden's heart felt unsatisfied with its current state and wanted to train right away, and even more so in the following days. For some reason, Aiden hadn't laughed or even smiled upon reading Clark's last message. In fact, he hadn't shown any hint of emotion during the whole conversation. He hadn't felt anything and simply faked his answers as though they were genuine. Aiden thought that there were more important things to take care of than wasting time like this on messages.
Hence, the game was set. Aiden returned to the training ground and resumed training with such deep anger in his heart that he didn't even care for his well-being. He wanted, in the span of the 60 or so days that remained on the clock, to transcend his human limits so that he would never lose to anyone. Although he was confident that his strength was already great, it was not enough for him. It never was.
And so weeks flew by like nothing, as insignificantly and swiftly as rusty leaves withering away, only to nourish the soil for brighter blooms. During those weeks, Aiden, once bright and proud like a verdant leaf, realized his strength was not as he had believed. Day after day, hour after hour, spit of blood after spit of blood, he understood that he was withering in a mist of self-doubt and incomprehension. Each second of every day, his skin's natural beige tint faded, turning red as he faced death repeatedly.
But growth didn't come naturally for humans. Unlike tree leaves fated to wither after their lifetimes ended, unable to alter their course, humans could change. Leaves, once they touched the ground and started to decompose, found their purpose in nourishing the soil, contributing to the cycle of life. Before that, they simply endured wind, rain, temperature changes, and the adversities of life without the ability to change themselves.
Yet humans were different. They could turn over a new leaf. They faced life's struggles and hardships, but they had the possibility to grow stronger from these challenges. However, their fate, although seemingly similar to leaves, was far crueler. Leaves didn't suffer, whereas humans often had to endure hellish experiences to find true happiness. Still, many people, when depressed, could never even reach the threshold of happiness, giving up after struggling in vain and beginning to wither away, just like leaves, without being able to change their fate.
Aiden had a dark past. He had suffered greatly and knew that his growing obsession with fighting the strong dummy was an indication of his inner turmoil. He had immersed himself in the magical fantasy of the dummy's capabilities, seeking happiness through its help. But at what cost was that so-called happiness being offered? Aiden had never liked fighting, yet he had never been more obsessed with the idea of fighting than now. The world had changed, and so did Aiden.
Now, with an excuse to start over, he found himself trapped in the illusion that it was fine to train to the point of near-death every day if it brought him strength. He believed strength meant happiness. But he nearly gave up when that happiness never came. Aiden's heart wavered like a child's wobbling legs on a tightrope. It did its best to remain calm and unshakable, but pounded hard, like a mother knocking on the hospital door of her dying son's room, unable to accept the truth.
Aiden killed his enemy countless times, and each time the enemy grew stronger. But Aiden also became stronger each time. How could such a dream-like fantasy occur? How could one become so strong in such a short amount of time? It was too unrealistic unless one was burning their own life force in the endeavor. And that's exactly what Aiden did. He ignored the real world's warnings, ignoring his friends and his mental sanity, to the point where he only briefly seemed present when he went outside of his training room.
Aiden had touched rock bottom and started to forget his own existence as his life force waned away. His vision blurred out, and he could only feel the taste of metal in his mouth. It had become so tiring and painful facing off the dummy in his condition that he had tried severing his sense of pain, dulling away his humanity further.
The abyssal waters of the training ground awaited Aiden, and he knew that no one would come to save him from the poisonous waters, because who could?
After some time, Aiden's heart and mind reached unison, breaking away the barriers of space and drifting into the starry oceans as one entity. As they danced glamorously under the moon, a tear fell down the heart, and the fuzzy mind, who had lost all sense of touch, was not able to reassure the tiny heart. When they finished dancing, the mind separated itself from the heart's grasp and fell, faster and faster, into unreachable abyssal depths.
The two organs had become one again just before Aiden had died, but could it save him? No, it could not. Aiden had only listened to his heart's desire and pushed aside his mind's "needless" worries, as it only hindered his progress in martial arts, he thought. But how could a martial artist be complete if he forgoes the alliance between his heart and mind? Aiden feared the past; it haunted him as he did not want it to find him. Life was great now, and if he showed any sign of weakness, his traumas would reappear.
And so he strived for power madly, terrified at the idea that some people he'd encounter in the future would mock him for being weaker than them. The bullying... it haunted him. Hence, he hid himself behind a veil of illusion, face-to-face with reality yet denying it.
"Start again," he yelled.
[System Notice: The one-hundred-and-fourth consecutive fight has started.] The speed and strength of the dummy have been increased by 1%.
The level 1 dummy that was using 4 martial arts and whose strength had originally been a meager 60 had now risen to 122.
Aiden was past the point of exhaustion and merely stood on the thread of life, his breath a desolate cry of despair. His legs were shaking, as if he had been walking on a tightrope, barely hanging on to life. He was like a dying patient, helpless and in pain.
The dummy jolted towards Aiden and offered him no respite, as always. Aiden's wooden sword met its opponent's throat, but it inflicted no damage whatsoever; the strength and speed behind the swing were feeble, akin to a toddler wielding a toy sword. The dummy didn't need to dodge the attack; instead, it grabbed his sword and lifted Aiden into the air by the tip of the blade.
At the same time, the dummy executed a Wing-Chun palm strike to Aiden's solar plexus, sending him flying several dozen feet away. Left on the brink of death, the dummy halted its march towards Aiden and suddenly began to speak.
"It took 5,000 fights to make you fall, yet you still do not understand your mistake. Are you that tenacious, or simply desperate and broken to the point that abandoning all common sense seems to be your only solace?"
"You have been given this gift not only to hone your martial arts skills but also to mold your heart and martial arts soul. Even so, the route you've taken to accomplish that diverges from the usual process. It is known that a martial artist needs to undergo numerous trials and struggles, painful adventures and challenges, to overcome their limitations and become transcendent beings, but you aren't at that stage yet."
"Despite that, you've skipped the part where you needed to have over 450 in combat power and faced such suffering, both mental and physical, way too early on, to the point where your soul strength surpasses most common transcendent martial artists' ones. So why have you not still come back to your senses? Why aren't you trying to swim up from this ocean of despair you've drowned yourself in? You've known worse pains before the regression, so wake up and fight—in the real world, that is. Not in your head, but in the reality you've been avoiding since two months ago."
"Wake up and be born anew, Aiden."
As the dummy's words lingered around the corner of my mind, like a whispered echo, I wondered how I could hear and understand its words so clearly. I was supposed to be tired to the point where I could barely see, smell, feel, hear, or even taste my own blood stuck in my mouth. I had lost my humanity and all five of my senses; thus, I had become a beast, relying on my instinct to survive. So how come the dummy's words sounded crystal clear to me?
Deep down, I knew something was wrong with my behavior because my heart stiffened up whenever someone asked me if I was alright, and I always said I was. All lies. As a bullied kid who had once tried to kill himself, I knew that my identity as a strong and charismatic person was not necessary for others because they didn't care. But for me, it did, because I was still traumatized from the public humiliation and the fact that all those waves of laughter that mocked me knew that I was a weak and pathetic loser.
That's why, when this new world suddenly appeared, I relished in the existence of the dummy, which allowed me to grow stronger and overcome my fears. But I took it too far...
'Who am I?' An echoing thought surfaced in Aiden's mind.
'Who am I?' he thought again, too tired to expect any sort of answer when suddenly a voice akin to Aiden's spoke in his mind.
''You are not Aiden; I am you, and you are me."