16-20

Chapter 16 - What's up with Rowan?

The Day Before The Test

It was late at night. The world outside lay still, cloaked in darkness, with a full moon hanging in the sky outside. Usually, Alaric preferred to practice his chakra visualization meditation at this hour. It had been nearly a full year since he had been reborn and a lot had happened. 

He still hadn't fully adapted to being a child, but he was adjusting. After all, he had progressed rapidly. 

He had a friend now — Rowan — whose companionship he surprisingly enjoyed. Much more than either of his half-brothers Lucien or Edwin. For some reason, they kept their distance from him. 

Well, ever since they realized how much smarter Alaric was compared to either of them.

He eliminated those thoughts and focused on the task at hand. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he focused on the cadence of his deep, rhythmic breathing. Slow inhales, slow exhales. Once his mind was sufficiently centered, he turned his focus inwards and visualized the base of his spine. 

He envisioned a glowing red orb at the base of his spine, flickering like a controlled flame. The red glow had gotten brighter over the past few weeks. It felt warm now, radiating a subtle heat that spread through his body. 

His legs, hips, and core grew heavier and felt more grounded like roots anchoring themselves deep into the earth.

He exerted his willpower and tried to spin the root chakra. The process was sluggish but he continued with sheer willpower. As he settled deeper into the trance, his thoughts drifted toward all that he had achieved. His mind roamed through vivid flashbacks, replaying moments with remarkable clarity.

His early lessons with Rowan, back when he was still struggling to wield his wooden sword. The replays of the guard positions. He remembered the moment Fenrir observed him and Rowan practicing. 

Fenrir's words echoed in his mind, "Your stance is your foundation, like the roots of a tree."

The clash of wooden swords and the grunts of sparring partners echoed in his thoughts. Fragments of practice duels surfaced — slashing, thrusting, and feinting. Scenes of parrying, blocking, and dodging against Rowan's strikes flashed in his mind's eye.

Alaric relived the triumph of defeating other sparring partners with ease. The sharp sting of failure when Rowan's strike landed on him. The surge of pride when he successfully dodged Rowan's attack for the first time. 

He recalled the countless times Rowan corrected his form, encouraging him to move faster and do better. Rowan's voice echoed once more, quoting his father's wisdom, "If you want to stand tall, your roots must be unshakable."

His awareness returned to the present moment. Alaric felt the warmth of his root chakra growing stronger. He envisioned the swirling red energy flowing smoothly and gently stabilizing. Slowly, it was transforming from a flickering glow to a steady, pulsing warmth. He imagined himself as a young tree with roots burrowed deep into the ground. He was unshakable.

Alaric sensed the last remnants of a knot — a dark spot nestled in the core of the red glow — dissolving within the chakra's radiance as it stabilized. His mind and body felt more connected than ever in this new body. Alaric's eyes drifted open, and he released a slow, measured breath. 

My root chakra is nearly purified. Perhaps a few more days. A smile spread across his cheek.

***

Alaric 8 Years Old

The day of the test arrived. However, instead of feeling anxious, he felt better than ever. 

Today was Alaric's birthday, and he suspected that Elara was preparing a delicious meal for him. Perhaps, something else awaited, and he couldn't wait to find out what it was. Alaric chuckled. 

Instead of stressing about the test, I am daydreaming about food.

The training ground buzzed with a sense of quiet excitement and mild tension. Apparently, news about the test had reached the ears of all the guards and the children who trained there. 

The guards continued with their drills but they all tracked Alaric as he approached the training grounds. The children were clustered to one side, eagerly waiting to see his performance. He couldn't blame them. 

Alaric had sparred with many of them over the past few months. Although it wasn't quite right to call them friends, all of them recognized Alaric and admired him. They knew he was skilled and wanted to witness just how far he could rise.

He spotted Rowan off to one side, a serious expression etched into his face. What's up with him? Alaric wondered. For some reason, Rowan appeared grimmer than usual — as if he were the one undergoing the test instead of Alaric. 

Off to the side, three kids his age lingered, faces unfamiliar to him. Hmm..where did they come from? One of them eyed Alaric intently, inspecting him from every angle. The other two whispered to each other. When Alaric met their gazes, they quickly averted their eyes.

A few moments later, Captain Farrow strode onto the field. He announced the rules of the test to Alaric. 

He would face challenges in one-on-one sparring matches, a reflex trial, and endurance runs. After finishing his explanation, the captain smirked. "There's a final challenge, but I'll share it only after you've completed the others."

What was that about? Why the suspense? Alaric shrugged. No matter what awaited him, he would strive to come out on top. Alaric stepped into the dueling ring with his trusty wooden sword. A moment later, the three unfamiliar boys approached. 

One of them entered the field with a wooden sword of his own. Alaric was up for a challenge but was sorely disappointed. 

His first opponent was too predictable. His swings, thrusts, and blocks were all very easy to predict. Alaric swiftly dodged a telegraphed overhand swing and countered with a tap to the chest. The match ended.

His second opponent moved faster. Alaric had to rely on his precise footwork. However, he defeated him easily with deft side steps and feints to misdirect him. It wasn't difficult to land a decisive hit on him.

The third opponent was a little tougher, but Alaric quickly adapted to his rhythm. He slipped inside his opponent's defenses and struck his wrist, disarming him. Some of the kids cheered for him, and Alaric felt proud. 

The test is easy… so far.

Captain Farrow simply grunted as he observed Alaric. As though he expected no less from Him. Without hesitation, Alaric proceeded to the next test area, where a series of weighted pendulums swung at random intervals. 

He smirked and advanced. Alaric either deflected or swiftly dodged each pendulum with sharp, controlled movements. He was forced to duck, twist, and leap backward as needed. 

It was a test to evaluate his footwork and defensive skills. One pendulum nearly grazed his arm, but he adjusted his rhythm for the next swing. By now, his breath came heavier, and his legs burned from the relentless movement. 

His forehead was adorned with beads of sweat but his focus remained unshaken.

Once he was done with the second test, he advanced to the sprint track. Other kids waited at the starting lines. The test included a series of short, explosive sprints to test his endurance. Alaric's speed was unmatched, and he left behind all the children competing alongside him.

He gasped for breath and felt his chest tightening. However, he couldn't help but smile. He was satisfied with his performance. 

Captain Farrow approached, Rowan trailing behind him. "Good work, Alaric. Now, for the final test…" He gestured towards Rowan, who slowly stepped inside the dueling ring with a wooden sword in his hand. "You don't have to win. Just survive for ten minutes."

Alaric had anticipated something like this. He felt many sets of eyes settle on him as he stepped into the dueling ring once. However, it was Rowan's gaze that unsettled him the most. It was filled with a steely focus, his usual playful demeanor completely absent. 

Rowan glanced briefly at his father, who gave a curt nod.

Captain Farrow raised his hand and declared firmly, "Start." As his hand dropped, signaling the start of the duel, Rowan lunged at Alaric. He was swift, aggressive, and relentless.

Rowan's strikes hit much harder than during their usual sparring sessions. He didn't use any playful feints — just raw, calculated offensive strikes. Alaric was forced to remain on the defensive, blocking and parrying with all of his focus. 

His heart pounded in his chest. He's serious this time. For some reason, Rowan's attitude felt different.

Alaric's arms grew heavier with each impact, the force of Rowan's blows sending painful vibrations up to his shoulders. Alaric was already exhausted from completing the previous tests. However, he didn't mind having to fight Rowan without being allowed to rest for some time. 

No enemy would wait for me to recover during a life-or-death battle. He took it up as a challenge — a chance to sharpen his focus, strengthen his resolve, and purify his chakras.

Why is Rowan fighting like this? His eyes flicked to Captain Farrow and then back to Rowan. Is he trying to prove something?

Alaric's breaths came in ragged gasps, and his vision began to blur. Suddenly, Rowan executed a perfect feint, and Alaric fell for it. Rowan used that opening to strike Alaric in the ribs. 

The sharp pain dropped him to his knees, gasping desperately for air.

***

Captain Aldric Farrow's POV

Captain Aldric Farrow was astonished by Alaric. The boy had improved tremendously over the past year. He didn't believe the child had any potential at first, being a bastard. However, Alaric quickly proved him wrong. His technique was still rough but his strength and raw battle sense were extraordinary. 

Even without learning any of the advanced techniques, he instinctively adapted to the rhythm of his opponents and saw through their fighting patterns. It was not a stretch to claim that no one his age could match him.

The results of the test did not surprise him that much. It was merely an official assessment that served as a record of Alaric's performance. Farrow was acutely aware of Alaric's discipline and talent. 

In fact, Captain Farrow had already decided to begin teaching him the advanced techniques the next day.

The final test against Rowan was more of a formality. It was intended to give Alaric a taste of humility before progressing further. After all, it was still not possible for Alaric to defeat Rowan, who was three years older than him. Farrow personally trained his son, teaching him everything he had to offer for years. His child was his proudest achievement.

Watching Rowan overpower Alaric so decisively lit up his face. Yes, that's my boy. Don't go easy on him. His chest swelled with pride for Rowan, yet his respect for Alaric remained. Sure, Alaric's form was still rough at the edges and his footwork was imperfect. 

However, the instincts he displayed were sharper than boys twice his age. "He's not ready for Rowan, though," Farrow muttered under his breath.

And that fact was easy to observe. As expected, Rowan dominated the duel from the start. He took the initiative and kept Alaric on the backfoot for the whole time. Yes, push him. Show him the gap between talent and experience.

Alaric was struggling, his movements growing slower with every passing second. He was pushing himself too hard. It's too much even for Alaric to fight Rowan without rest. Farrow glanced at the clock. 

Only three more minutes. Unfortunately, it looked like Alaric wouldn't be able to endure to the end at this pace.

At that moment, Rowan struck Alaric in the chest, and the boy slumped down on the ground. Will he give up? Farrow inspected Alaric closely. He pondered whether he should call off the fight or let it continue. 

Just as he was about to signal for the fight to stop, he saw Alaric push himself back onto his feet as his gaze hardened. Hmm…what's this? Farrow paused and inspected Alaric more closely. 

Something had changed — something unusual. This isn't normal.

Chapter 17 - Channeling the Power of Root Chakra

Alaric sprawled on the cold, dirt-packed ground. His limbs hung like dead weights, and his breathing came in ragged, shallow gasps. Every muscle burned with fatigue. However, it was the sharp, stabbing pain in his ribs that gave him pause. 

Should I give up now? I thought I had improved so much…but maybe, I overestimated myself.

He spat to get rid of the dirt on his lips. Is this the limit of this body? Something deep inside him stirred — a raging defiance. Memories of countless life-or-death battles from his previous life flooded his mind. Moments where he stood on the brink of death, facing enemies far more powerful than Rowan. 

No, I have endured worse than this. I never gave up before. I'm not starting now. 

His fingers twitched, but he lacked the power to form a fist. He closed his eyes and dove inward, focusing on his internal world. In his mind's eye, he visualized the root chakra — a bundle of small crimson energy nestled at the base of his spine. With an effort of will, he commanded it to spin faster and faster. 

Spin faster. Damn it.

Rowan didn't wait idly. Alaric sensed Rowan closing in, and instinctively deflected a strike. A flash of surprise surged through his head, mirroring the stunned expression on Rowan's face. How did I deflect the blow? 

His hand found the wooden sword, but his focus snapped back to the spinning vortex of energy at his spine.

Alaric sensed Rowan surge forward again, faster this time. He barely managed to avoid another blow, stumbling to the side. At this rate, he'll land a solid hit. Rowan's face twisted into a scowl as he prepared another attack. 

Alaric's thoughts snapped back to the chakra he visualized. "Faster. Spin. More spin, more power. SPIN!"

Suddenly, the energy shifted. It didn't just spin — it erupted into a whirling cyclone. A wave of warmth radiated up Alaric's spine, washing over his chest, arms, and legs, dissolving the ache and fatigue. It felt as though roots extended from his spine, anchoring him to the earth, stabilizing him, and feeding him with power. 

My root chakra has been completely purified. And it has partially awakened.

Alaric felt the mental fog lift from his mind. His thoughts became razor-sharp, and his focus became crystal clear. His muscles tightened and felt solid and firm. Gone was the sluggishness. It was as if he had awakened from the deepest, most restorative sleep of his life. Alaric climbed to his feet.

Rowan unleashed a furious strike, but Alaric met it with a flawless parry, flicking Rowan's sword off balance with an effortless motion. Rowan stumbled back, shock etched across his face.

Alaric went on the offensive for the first time. He pressed Rowan back with a combination of thrusts, slashes, and feints, forcing him onto the defensive. But then, Alaric noticed the warmth on his limbs dissipate, replaced by the creeping chill of exhaustion. His muscles lost their power, his breath turned more ragged, and his strikes lost their edge.

No, I'm slowing down. 

The surge of power wasn't permanent. His root chakra was now fully purified and partially awakened. Unfortunately, it still required fuel to function and currently, Alaric was running on fumes.

Rowan realized the shift in his explosiveness. His strikes grew sharper, faster, and more aggressive. With a decisive upward swing, Rowan disarmed Alaric, sending the wooden sword spinning from his hand. Alaric hit the ground hard, his arms sprawled, his cheek pressed into the dirt.

However, he was neither disappointed nor angry. He was satisfied. Alaric could still taste the lingering power of activating his root chakra, smoldering within him. This is enough for today. 

He closed his eyes as darkness took hold of him.

***

Rowan POV

Alaric was not at all how he imagined a bastard would be. In fact, he didn't resemble a noble scion or any other kid for that matter. Alaric didn't parade around like an entitled kid, but he was not dumb either. 

No, he was very clever and always focused on his training. Over the past year, Rowan had forged a deep bond with Alaric. 

He really enjoyed training with him. However, in the past few weeks, Rowan caught himself growing a little jealous of his friend. What took him years to master, Alaric grasped in only a few weeks. At this rate, Alaric would surpass him in skill in a few more months.

Oftentimes, he saw his father observing Alaric with a look of admiration. Somehow, that made him a little sad. However, he didn't harbor any malice toward Alaric. All he yearned for was the same respect and admiration from his own father.

So, when his father decided to pit him against Alaric, Rowan seized the chance. Frankly, Rowan wasn't surprised at how well his friend performed in the other tests. His duel with Alaric should be considered the real test. And that meant Rowan would give it his all.

The look in his father's eyes at the start of the duel was clear. Don't go easy on him. Rowan decided to take the initiative from the start, just like his father had drilled into him. And, he was keeping Alaric on the defensive. 

See, Father. I'm not destined to simply become a house guard. I can become an adventurer like you.

Rowan yearned to show his father just how much he had sharpened his skills over the years. He was no less capable than any noble scion. And, he almost succeeded in defeating Alaric. He noticed Alaric growing more and more tired. 

His strikes grew heavier, his movements slower. A part of him was feeling a tinge of guilt witnessing his friend in such a miserable state. However, he squashed that thought. This is an exam, not training. Alaric wouldn't hold back, so I won't either.

The moment of victory was near. Alaric was on the ground. Rowan prepared to end the fight. Really, it was a shame. Only a few more minutes and Alaric would have passed the test. However, Rowan's eyes widened when Alaric deflected his strike and subsequently dodged another blow by a narrow margin. 

Alaric slowly got up, his posture straight, his breathing calm and steady.

Rowan instinctively realized something had changed in Alaric. What is happening? Before he could react, Alaric burst into motion and put him on the defensive for the first time. His movements turned unpredictably fluid. His footwork became more precise and his attacks struck with a newfound weight. 

Alaric was chaining all the moves he had learned in the previous year with unnatural grace. He's using all the moves we practiced, but so much better.

Rowan was forced to settle for blocking and parrying Alaric's strikes, each impact numbing his hands. If he hadn't trained rigorously with his father, Rowan was certain Alaric would have disarmed him by now. 

Where is he getting all this strength? He never struck this hard before! For the first time, Rowan felt a flicker of fear.

No. I won't lose. Rowan clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on his sword. Not to Alaric. He refused to back down and tried to match Alaric blow for blow. Suddenly, he noticed Alaric slowing down again. 

Whatever mysterious energy was fueling him was fading. This is my chance. Rowan didn't miss the opening. He slipped inside Alaric's defenses and, with a sharp flick of his sword, sent Alaric's weapon spinning into the air. 

Alaric crumpled to the ground.

His heart was pounding, and a sense of relief washed over him, mixed with guilt and admiration for his friend. He glanced at his father, who nodded at him. He had managed to defeat Alaric. I won, but somehow, it doesn't feel like I won. 

Rowan knelt beside his friend and gripped his shoulder. "You did good, Alaric. You survived for ten minutes," Rowan whispered in his ear. "You passed the test." 

Rowan took a moment to gather his thoughts. Alaric was truly no ordinary kid. He might have won against Alaric today, but the outcome could be different in a few months — he had no doubt about that. I have to train harder.

***

Alaric was currently digging into thick cuts of venison seared to perfection. The rich gamey aroma mixed with the sharp scent of garlic and wild herbs elevated his eating experience to a whole nother level. It was his birthday lunch. Usually, Alaric consumed his meals alone in his room, and today was no exception. 

He had passed by the dining hall where the count and his family dined together, but there was no desire in him to join them. 

Instead, relishing his food from the comfort of his bedroom felt much more appealing to him. The cooks had truly outdone themselves this time. His usual spread of bread, soup, fruit, and cheese was present. However, the cooks had prepared venison steaks and honeyed sweet rolls specifically for his birthday. The soft, golden rolls were brushed with honey. 

Each bite tasted heavenly since it melted in his mouth with little resistance. 

A little later, Elara entered his room with a covered tray. She wore a playful grin. "Don't fill up too soon, young master. I've made something special for your birthday." She set down the tray and lifted the cover to reveal a special birthday cake. It was a honeyed fruit cake. 

The stress from the duel with Rowan that morning immediately melted away when he saw how much effort Elara spent preparing the cake for him.

The round cake was topped with a layer of golden honey. It was decorated with deep red strawberries, bright golden apricots, and dark purple figs. When Alaric tasted a slice of the cake, he felt a single tear escape his eyes. It was simply otherworldly. "I never knew something could taste this good."

Elara beamed at the compliment and released a sweet smile. She ruffled his hair and encouraged him to eat some more. But Alaric was already full and content. They spent some time discussing his sword test earlier. 

Apparently, the news of his excellent performance and the amazing duel with Rowan had quickly spread throughout the maid circle and everybody on the estate. There were plenty of guards who had witnessed the duel. In fact, Elara revealed that even the Knights were talking about it and wishing they could have seen the spectacle. 

Alaric was amused. Yes, he was happy. He had given it his all and even managed to finally purify his root chakra. 

I'm 8 now, Alaric reflected. When did time fly by so quickly? After Elara left the bedroom, Alaric decided to inspect the condition of his subtle body.

Chapter 18 - The Seven Chakras

Alaric settled into the familiar lotus position and visualized the condition of all the chakras. His root chakra was glowing a brilliant crimson, a small orb in his subtle body spinning steadily. With each rotation, his partially awakened root chakra generated a portion of the energy that formed his Pranic force. 

The life force, or Prana of a person, determines everything about them — their potential for strength, intelligence, willpower, growth, soul strength, and more. Each chakra governs a different aspect of one's being. The purer they became, the higher a cultivator's potential ceiling would rise. 

And if a cultivator managed to awaken their chakras, it would bestow additional benefits. 

However, to a chakra cultivator, unfurling the petals of the chakras was the most significant achievement. Unfurling even a single petal would make mastering different abilities, skills, and techniques vastly easier.

Many cultivators in his homeworld knew about the presence of chakras in the subtle body. However, their knowledge was incomplete. Chakras were energy centers, but their impact on the body could vary significantly depending on how they were visualized. 

Moreover, even though most people remained unaware of the chakras' presence in their subtle bodies, it didn't mean they lacked them.

In fact, powerful cultivators often possessed naturally pure chakras. Some of them even managed to awaken them unknowingly. It happened as a byproduct of cultivating and refining the body, mind, and spirit to extraordinary levels. 

However, unfurling the chakra petals required specific knowledge and the proper method. This was what distinguished chakra cultivators from other cultivators.

Alaric's master had instructed him that the ancient records that spoke of chakra cultivation recommended visualizing these chakras as flowers akin to water lilies. Just as a water lily can blossom even in the filthiest water bodies but remain pure in itself, untainted by the dirt, a chakra cultivator must envision these seven energy centers in their subtle body taking root and flourishing. 

These were not physical points in the physical body. They resided in the subtle body, which overlapped with the physical body. 

Chakra cultivation encompassed a three-step process — Purifying the chakra by cleansing the body, mind, and soul; awakening the chakras; and unfurling the petals until each chakra bloomed fully. 

There were seven chakras in the body:

Muladhara (Root Chakra) - 4 petalsSwadhisthana (Sacral Chakra) - 6 petalsManipura (Solar Plexus Chakra) - 10 petalsAnahata (Heart Chakra) - 12 petals Visuddha (Throat Chakra) - 16 petalsAjna (Third Eye Chakra) - 2 petalsSahasrara (The Crown Chakra) - 1,000 petals.The 1,000 petals in the crown chakra symbolize infinity because it represents the universal consciousness, which is boundless. 

During meditation sessions, a chakra cultivator must visualize each petal of their respective chakra unfurling if they wish to fully bloom them. However, the process remained truly enigmatic. It combined the strength of their visualization, focus, deep absorption, and harmony with their subtle body.

With the introduction of the system, Alaric was not certain how the system would play its part in assisting or hindering him in his cultivation journey. He eliminated those thoughts aside. 

I will cross that bridge when it comes.

Alaric scanned through all the chakras in his body. His root chakra was fully purified and partially awakened. He would have to concentrate on fully purifying all the chakras in his subtle body before fully awakening them. 

Then, he could progress to unfurling the petals. His other chakras were at varying stages of purity, with purity increasing toward his base.

Alaric was satisfied with his progress for now. Progress, even if gradual, was a good sign. It is only when you notice stagnation that the real concerns begin. Reflecting on his growth, Alaric opened his training journal to the last page — where he had recorded yesterday's results — and analyzed the progress he made over the past year.

Push-ups - 50Sit-ups - 80Squats - 90Pull-ups - 14Plank time - 4 min400-meter timed lap - 1:35 minRunning - 7 lapsRope climbing - Can climb effortlessly.He shut the notebook and pondered for a while. The root chakra governs the physical body — everything from muscular structure, bone density, and endurance to reaction speed and agility. 

A fully purified root chakra would help Alaric to develop a strong physical foundation. When he eventually practiced more advanced esoteric cultivation or mana arts, he would enjoy a tremendous advantage. From now on, his growth would accelerate rapidly with the support of his root chakra.

The root chakra in Alaric's subtle body rotated steadily, generating a portion of his Prana with each spin. This subtle energy would be filtered through the root chakra and stored within it. However, it could also be directed toward anything concerning his physical body. 

The way he had expended root chakra energy during the duel with Rowan wasn't the most effective use. 

The ideal application during his growing years would involve channeling the root chakra energy throughout his body, infusing every bone, muscle, and organ to maximize their potential. It would be a slow and gradual process, requiring patience before any noticeable improvements could be observed. 

However, it would pay tremendous dividends in the future. 

This subtle energy could also be utilized to gain a tremendous temporary boost in physical prowess — as he had demonstrated in his duel with Rowan — but such usage was wasteful, better reserved for true emergencies. 

It was akin to consuming food purely for flavor without extracting its full nutritional value. 

Alaric couldn't wait to finally start his training with Captain Farrow. Although Rowan was competent and an effective instructor, now that Alaric had purified the root chakra, he knew he would surpass him in the near future. A more experienced teacher would become necessary.

For some reason, the count didn't permit him to study under the same combat instructor who trained Lucien and Edwin. Honestly, Alaric was happy about that. 

He had no interest in enduring the same irritation he felt during his academic lessons. However, both his siblings gradually let go of their jealousy after they realized Alaric was truly out of their league. 

Truth be told, Alaric preferred the idea of training under a seasoned veteran like Guard Captain Aldric Farrow. Perhaps the count has something in store for me for later. Alaric finally settled down and started his meditation session in earnest.

***

Alaric was currently flipping through the pages of a book that outlined some sword-fighting guidelines. He felt good to be back in the library - one of his favorite places - after such a long absence. Ever since he began studying under Master Vellan, he hadn't been able to carve out time to visit the library. 

His schedule was packed. 

There was some good news, though. It seemed that Alaric outpaced the syllabus suitable for his age. In fact, Master Vellan was considering teaching Alaric separately from now on, as studying alongside his siblings would only slow his progress.

Today, he was allowed to skip his morning study session with Master Vellan since he had the sword fighting test in the morning. So, with some free time on his hands, Alaric decided to roam through the library for some time. 

He felt invigorated, admiring all the different types of leather-bound books and tomes in all shades of colors. 

Today, he opted to delve into some books that detailed weapon fighting styles, particularly sword fighting. There was a lot of information about the various techniques and skills one needed to master to become proficient at the art. 

He noted brief descriptions of the basic moves he had practiced with Rowan. 

However, the books offered far more, such as advanced strategies that dealt with momentum and tempo control, deception and trickery, psychological and tactical approaches, and more. Still, simply learning theory wouldn't do him much good. 

Alaric was simply preparing himself to become familiar with all the technical terms before Captain Farrow began training him the next day. Understanding the theory first would allow him to grasp the intricacies of the practical application more effectively.

He stumbled upon another fascinating discovery. Alaric heard a faint beep in his mind and instinctively realized that something had changed in his system status screen. Unfortunately, although he could summon the system screen into his vision, it remained blurred, and he couldn't really interact with it. 

Looks like I have to wait until turn 12 before I can finally see what the hassle is all about.

In the past year, Alaric had learned a lot about the system. At least, the theoretical aspects. However, it was still difficult to wrap his mind around it without witnessing the system in action. He couldn't even access his personal Cultivation Sanctuary, which was a real shame. 

Well, no matter. That time will come soon enough. 

He cleared his thoughts and honed in on a tingling sensation. In his previous life, Alaric had sharpened his danger sense to a tremendous level. It wasn't anywhere near that level now, but Alaric had been diligently refining it once more.

He had finally begun to detect a faint tingling sensation whenever he was around someone powerful, such as Captain Farrow or the Count. However, he also felt the same sensation unexpectedly during his regular activities when no one was visibly around.

Alaric suspected that his danger sense flared up whenever somebody was spying on him. After his meeting with the count, he felt whoever was spying on him left him alone. However, the same feeling was back again and it made him a little irritated. There was nothing he could do without awakening his 'True Vision' and awakening more of his chakras. 

He practically felt blind without his signature ability — True Vision. Alaric would need to awaken his Third-eye Chakra for that and it was going to take a while. Still, he had enough experience to understand that this person was simply observing him without any malicious intent.

It is probably the same person who was observing me earlier, somebody who reported to the count.

Chapter 19 - Deception and Trickery

Count Valeran's POV

It was drizzling lightly outside the Count's manor. A storm loomed in the distance, and sharp flashes of lightning illuminated the night sky for a few brief moments. Count Valeran was sipping his favorite red wine in his study. 

His personal guard — Knight Commander Reynard De Fonce — stood by his side, poised and vigilant, his hand resting gently on the pommel of his sword.

A man cloaked in shadowy black garments and a demonic mask obscuring his face was currently conversing with the count. He belonged to a mysterious organization, which was like a double-edged sword for the count. 

On one hand, the count had profited enormously, by trading mana stones mined from the 'Greyheaven' mana mines. However, it also painted a target on his back, especially if his involvement with the group was exposed to the Imperial investigators.

Count Valeran didn't know much about this mysterious organization. He suspected the group operated in illegal dealings, and probing too deeply was a gamble he dared not take. However, if there was one thing that the count liked about this mysterious organization, it was their ability to pay on time. 

In fact, they always provided an advance to incentivize their partners

When news of the 'Greyheaven' mana mines slipping from his grip reached his ears, he feared the worst. He had already accepted a hefty advance from his 'business associates' and believed their enforcers would arrive to settle accounts soon. 

In reality, Count Valeran had already squandered the money and had no means to pay them back. So, he steeled himself for the worst.

However, it seemed the group was already informed and assured him he had nothing to fear. Legally, nothing could be done under the orders of the 'Royal Council'. However, that didn't mean they wouldn't try to recoup their losses through other means. 

Valeran had already attempted to instigate a plan to close down the mines a few months ago. However, he had underestimated Count Eustace. The cunning man must have had spies embedded within his operations. 

It had to be the case. How else could they have deployed a full squad of knights and mercenaries precisely when his forces arrived at the mines?

No confrontation took place and no blood was spilled. Both houses would have suffered considerable losses if an open battle was to break out. But the message was clear — his opponent was one step ahead of him. It irritated him, but he accepted his defeat. 

He even resolved to pay off his debt to the organization in small installments. 

Now, suddenly, the organization sends somebody to 'assist' him. He didn't appreciate it. And, he didn't trust them. So, although Valeran put up a calm facade, fear churned inside him. It was the presence of Knight Commander Reynard De Fonce by his side that allowed him to keep his wits.

"Count Eustace is scheduled to depart for the Imperial Capital in a few weeks," the masked man rasped, his voice dissolving like smoke in the air. "We will infiltrate his study and extract any potentially incriminating information."

"Isn't that too risky? He's doubled his guard detail. And, while the Knight Commander might be absent, Captain Aldric Farrow is no easy opponent either."

"You need not concern yourself with our methods," the man interjected sharply. He was clearly underestimating the forces of Count Eustace. Valeran chose to remain quiet.

Either they would succeed or they wouldn't. As long as I remained uninvolved, it didn't matter.

"We will hand over the compromising information to you. Use it to negotiate with the count and reclaim the mines."

The count couldn't fathom why the organization was so adamant about acquiring the mines. There were countless mana mines scattered across the northern regions. With their resources, securing a steady supply of mana stones should have been trivial. He merely shrugged and nodded in acknowledgment.

The man dissolved into a swirling mist of smoke, vanishing into the shadows.

***

Captain Aldric Farrow could only dedicate 30 minutes of his demanding schedule each day to instructing Alaric in the advanced sword arts forms. However, in every session, Alaric learned more than he could glean in an entire week poring over sword art manuals in the library. 

Training with him was extremely hectic. It was nothing like sparring with his friend, Rowan. 

Whenever Alaric thought he had mastered a basic move such as a simple strike, slash, or cut, the captain introduced new variations. These weren't all orthodox forms. In fact, the orthodox forms served merely as a guideline — a foundation to infuse one's understanding of the art and combine it with instincts.

"React faster," Captain Farrow bellowed, swinging a wooden sword at him. Alaric barely deflected the strike, the force of the blow numbing his hands and nearly wrenching the sword from his grip. It always took him a moment to recover and launch a counter-swing. However, in that brief opening, the captain struck him softly at three vital points.

It didn't even seem like the man was trying. No wonder Rowan would be so formidable if he had endured such harsh training.

Beyond standard strikes, thrusts, and chops, the captain demonstrated a specialized technique — the glancing blow — where one struck at an angle. This maneuver was used to disorient the opponent or set up follow-up attacks.

Not surprisingly, Captain Farrow was not a fan of deception and trickery techniques, except for the simple feint. He believed in overpowering his foes with raw skill and strength. However, for the sake of Alaric's education, he demonstrated a handful of deceptive techniques, including body feints, false retreats, and blind spot attacks. 

Understanding these tricks was essential to avoid being caught off guard by cunning adversaries.

"Now, I'll show you something no official martial instructor would ever teach noble kids," Captain Farrow said with a sly smirk. "Take your position."

Alaric didn't like the sound of that or the gleam in the captain's eyes. His instincts were right. When Alaric launched a strike, the captain effortlessly blocked with one hand, seized Alaric's sleeve with the other, and yanked him forward. Alaric was nearly lifted off his feet, but he managed to tilt his head just in time, narrowly avoiding the sword's point.

"Oh, you managed to not get hit," the captain said, a mild surprise flashing across his face before he grinned. Sharp pain flared from Alaric's left foot and shot up his leg. 

Dirty bastard! Captain Farrow exploited Alaric's brief lapse in focus to deliver a sneaky strike.

The captain released him, and Alaric immediately began rubbing his aching foot. "That's not fair." Alaric protested aloud, although he wasn't really angry at the captain. His instructor was simply demonstrating that enemies could play dirty.

"Remember, kid, such tactics would result in an instant disqualification in an official duel match," the captain said grimly. "But, real enemies don't play by any rules. In a life-or-death battle, they fight dirty." His eyes darkened briefly as if recalling a distant memory. 

Then he shook his head. "I've seen plenty of talented duelists die because they expected honor from their opponents. Enemies who didn't follow rules."

Alaric knew that to be true as well. Fighting in duels bound by rules and regulations was completely different from fighting for survival. No matter how talented or skilled, one could lose their life in the blink of a second due to one moment of carelessness or misplaced trust.

"That will be it for today. Go on, practice with Rowan." The captain ordered. With that, the intimidating man departed, leaving Alaric to seek out his friend.

***

It didn't take long to locate Rowan, who was engrossed in refining his footwork skills. It was odd for both of them when they initially reunited after the exam.

Apparently, Rowan hadn't wanted to hold back against Alaric, aiming to acknowledge his strength and show him the proper respect. It was also an examination. So, treating it casually like in a sparring session could have been considered cheating. 

However, his biggest reason was his desire to impress his father by demonstrating how much he had progressed over the years. Alaric could relate to that. What caught him by surprise was Rowan's guilty expression when he admitted feeling somewhat envious of him. 

Well, not exactly envious of Alaric himself, but of the speed at which he was advancing. Alaric wasn't sure how to respond to that.

But he harbored no bad feelings towards Rowan. In fact, he appreciated the fact that Rowan took him seriously and didn't hold back. After all, it was the challenge that finally allowed him to surpass the hurdle of purifying his root chakra. Now, it felt like their bond had grown even stronger.

It had become a daily ritual for them to spar and analyze each other's forms and techniques after Alaric concluded his sword training sessions. He was advancing at an incredible pace after purifying his root chakra. Alaric was channeling the root chakra energy to enhance all of his physical attributes, and the results were already apparent. 

He got tired less quickly and moved with greater agility. His strength remained unchanged, but that would improve over time.

When Rowan spotted Alaric, he immediately lunged at him. Alaric deflected his strike and launched a counter-attack. Rowan parried it effortlessly. He began circling Alaric, and the pattern of his movement revealed an obvious baiting maneuver. 

Hah…he thinks I'll fall for it. 

Alaric was tempted to exploit the weak spot, but it was too obvious — at least for somebody as capable as Rowan. When Rowan realized Alaric wasn't biting, he unleashed a rapid flurry of thrusts.

Alaric dodged, blocked, or redirected each blow. Rowan had already shown improvement in just a few days. His father must have taught him some new tricks. He employed deceptive footwork and more than once, Alaric prepared to defend against an expected strike only for Rowan to suddenly shift direction. 

It was more than a simple feint; Rowan fully committed to the movement to make it convincing.

Midway through the spar, Rowan attempted to disrupt Alaric's rhythm by striking at uneven intervals. The irregular tempo caught Alaric off guard a couple of times, but his battle instincts enabled him to evade a decisive hit.

Alaric tried to inch toward Rowan in an attempt to dominate the center line, but he wasn't having it. Rowan's impeccable footwork allowed him to maintain the optimum range for both striking and defending.

"Where is that energy and strength you flaunted during the exam, Alaric?" Rowan teased. "Looks like it was just luck rather than skill." More than once, Rowan had attempted to provoke Alaric into displaying that extraordinary strength he'd shown during the exam.

However, Alaric hadn't repeated such feats during their sparring sessions. Of course, Rowan wasn't fighting at full capacity either.

I'm sorry, my friend. I'm not wasting my precious energy just to teach you a lesson. Alaric smirked and replied, "You need to work on your taunts a little more. They're falling flat." He sidestepped another strike. "Besides, I can defeat you anytime I want. But where's the fun in that?" 

"Really?" A grim look crossed Rowan's face. "Let's see you handle this." 

Suddenly, Rowan slashed his sword in a diagonal arc, aiming high at Alaric's head. The strike carried far more force than before. Instead of blocking it, Alaric chose to duck and sidestep. However, Rowan twisted his sword at the last moment and slammed the point against Alaric's hand, disarming him.

Chapter 20 - What Creeps Into the Night

Alaric flexed his palm. "That was a mean strike," he complimented Rowan. 

"I picked up this move a few days ago," Rowan said smugly. "Took you by surprise, didn't I?" He winked. 

"That you did," Alaric chuckled. That strike had been truly impressive — a perfect blend of strength, finesse, and tactics. Mastering such a move at just eleven years old was remarkable. Unlike him, Rowan didn't have years of fighting experience. 

Both of them wandered over to the resting area and began munching on some snacks. Their meal consisted of a few slices of bread with cheese accompanied by some fruits. A few guards cast envious glances their way, but neither Alaric nor Rowan paid them any mind. The guards would have their own break soon enough.

Rowan's gaze drifted into the distance, his expression clouded with concern. Alaric sensed his friend was troubled by something. Nudging Rowan with his elbow, he asked, "What has got you all worried?"

Rowan snapped back to the present, shaking his head before replying, "Something's got my father on edge. Have you noticed how the guards are always on high alert at night?"

Alaric nodded. "Yeah. I heard the Count is leaving for some important business. I think your father's just uneasy about the estate's security when the knights accompany the lord."

For the past week, Alaric and Rowan had also been training in the evenings. Captain Farrow had insisted they practice fighting in low-light conditions for at least an hour, reasoning that they needed to be prepared for any scenario. None of the guards joined them; they were spread thin, patrolling the estate's various locations.

Just yesterday, Alaric had noticed an increase in the number of guards making the rounds of the mansion during the night shift. Even the knights, who typically patrolled with an air of confidence, seemed unusually alert and cautious. 

With the Count preparing to leave for several weeks, a substantial portion of the house knights would accompany him, leaving the estate noticeably more exposed.

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't pose a significant risk. The houseguards were capable enough to defend the property against common thugs and bandits. 

However, whispers among the servants hinted at a long-standing dispute between Count Eustace and another noble.

That changed everything. A wealthy Count could rally considerable forces, and if conflict erupted, the estate might face a genuine threat. That was probably why Captain Farrow was worried. 

Alaric decided to remain a little more alert. Of course, if a battalion of soldiers and mercenaries arrived at their gates bearing arms, there would be little he could do aside from fleeing or surrendering.

But vigilance could still make a difference — it might buy them time to escape or prepare for an impending attack. After some back-and-forth discussion, Rowan and Alaric agreed to meet again later that evening at their usual spot.

***

Alaric and Rowan reclined in the cool grass after their evening training. The sun had dipped below the horizon moments ago, bathing the sky in streaks of orange and red. The soft hues of twilight suffused the garden in a wonderful glow. The distant chittering of crickets echoed through the still air.

Rowan was rambling about something, but Alaric wasn't paying attention. He wanted to relish these few moments of beauty. Soon, he would have to return to his bedroom to meditate. 

However, it was an unhealthy habit to remain perpetually occupied with tasks. After all, the mind and body needed moments of reprieve to function properly.

Both of them were exhausted, their bodies covered in sweat. Yet, instead of heading straight for a bath to wash away the grime, they preferred to linger together, enjoying each other's company and unwinding.

Ever since the Count had departed the estate with his regiment of knights a week ago, a heavy gloom had settled over the grounds. Everybody could feel it in their bones — an impending storm lurking on the horizon. The maids and the servants whispered anxiously. The guards patrolled the grounds with heightened vigilance. Captain Farrow was on edge all the time. 

The few knights who had remained assisted the guards during their nighttime patrols.

Suddenly, Alaric felt a sharp tingle as the hairs on his neck stood erect. His danger sense flared to life. The icy, creeping sensation was far different from the unease he'd felt under the watchful gaze of the Count's messenger. No, this time the danger was real.

"Rowan, quiet for a moment," Alaric murmured. He raised a hand sharply, his expression darkening to indicate the seriousness of the situation. "Something's wrong."

Rowan froze mid-sentence. Just as he was about to speak again, both of them noticed a series of shadows stretching across the nearby boundary wall. Moments later, faint, measured footsteps became audible.

"Get down," Alaric hissed. "Hide behind that bush. Quick." 

Rowan didn't protest. Both boys darted behind a dense cluster of shrubbery, their small bodies vanishing in the darkness of the evening. The cool, damp leaves pressed against Alaric's skin, but he remained still — observing — his senses stretched to the extreme. 

The muffled whispers and footsteps gradually revealed themselves as a group of figures emerged from the shadows. They were clad in tight, black attire, their faces hidden behind featureless masks.

One figure, however, stood out — he wore a demonic mask etched with sharp features and a menacing scowl. That man is probably the leader of the group.

"Who are they? What's happening?" Rowan whispered, his voice trembling, his body quivering with fear. Alaric gently squeezed Rowan's hand, pressed a finger to his lips, and shook his head firmly, signaling silence.

The intruders communicated in hushed tones, paired with sharp hand signals. Suddenly, a guard spotted them. Before he could shout an alarm, one of the intruders struck him swiftly at the base of the neck, and the guard crumpled to the ground. 

Rowan flinched violently, nearly crying out, but Alaric's hand clamped down on his wrist, grounding him.

Rowan turned to Alaric, his eyes wide, sweat glistening on his brow. However, the steady calm etched into Alaric's face seemed to ease his fear. Alaric cupped his ears, straining to catch snippets of the intruders' conversation. Words like 'study,' 'documents,' and 'move quickly' drifted to him.

The shadowy figures dispersed, melting back into the darkness and disappearing from view. Alaric and Rowan remained motionless for several long moments, trying to make heads or tails of what they'd just witnessed.

"This isn't an assassination attempt on the Count," Alaric mumbled.

Rowan blinked, confusion etched across his face. Alaric continued, "The Count isn't even here, remember?" Rowan nodded slowly. "And they don't seem like they're planning to attack the estate directly. There are too few of them for that. I think…" Alaric paused, considering his words. "Their objective is espionage, not violence."

"But they assaulted the guard. He is probably dead…"

"No, I don't think they killed the guard. They simply knocked him out. It would be too messy otherwise."

"What should we do? Should we keep hiding or flee?" Rowan was still panicking. Alaric grabbed hold of his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "Steady yourself, Rowan. We are not fleeing. Listen to me."

Alaric quickly shared his theory with Rowan. "Please alert your father as swiftly as possible. But be sneaky and stick to the walls. I will head towards my room." Rowan nodded and hurried off. Alaric lied. He planned on heading to the count's study to keep an eye on the intruders. It was a risky move, and he didn't want Rowan to worry about him.

Alaric crept cautiously through the garden's shadows. Once outside the garden, he avoided exposed paths and hugged the walls. One of the intruders could be keeping watch, and it was crucial to remain vigilant. 

He spotted a silhouette scaling the second-floor balcony towards the count's vacant study. Hmm, looks like my guess is correct.

Alaric couldn't climb, nor did he intend to make himself an easy target. He slipped through the main entrance doors, noticing guards. As expected, when he relayed what he saw to the door guards, they merely scoffed. 

Fortunately, he noticed someone approaching from the east side who might believe him. It was Fenrir.

***

Rowan POV

Rowan crept silently, crouching as low as possible to reach his house. He glanced over his shoulders every few steps. His limbs trembled, but it was not due to the biting chill. He spotted a few unconscious guards hidden behind the bushes. 

If Rowan had not been crouched and hyper-focused on his surroundings, he wouldn't have detected them. His breathing was labored and his heart pounded in his chest. 

How did Alaric remain so calm in that situation? 

Rowan was sure he would've been caught if it were not for Alaric trying to keep him composed. Even now, he could recall the cold, calculative gaze in his eyes. There was no fear in them. Rowan wiped the sweat off his eyebrows with the back of his palm.

He spotted his house in the distance. Just a few more steps... I'm almost there. The sense of fear gave way to urgency. He straightened to his full height and sprinted towards the door. 

Unfortunately, after only a few steps, he heard a snap and tumbled on the ground. Pain radiated through his ankles, and he screamed. However, in the next moment, the air around him shimmered, and the noise was abruptly silenced.

"A noisy little mouse... aren't you? Did you really think I wouldn't notice you?" a harsh, raspy voice sneered behind him. Rowan twisted around. He spotted one of the intruders advancing slowly, his steps deliberate, as if savoring the hunt. 

There was no mask on his face now, and he wore a wicked grin and cruel eyes.

Rowan scrambled backward, but the intruder pinned his injured ankle with a boot. He screamed to no avail. The sound couldn't escape the invisible sphere surrounding him.

"We weren't supposed to kill anybody tonight," the intruder hissed. "But I cannot resist the look of agony on your little face." A small dagger materialized in his hands, and he dragged his tongue along its edge. 

"Who would worry about a small... dead... child?" The intruder raised the dagger to strike him.