A Testament Of The Dark Magician

Roland held onto the shimmering steel sword with a curious expression. When he moved the sword intentionally, he heard its metal hum while passing through the formless air. Holding a sword felt a lot different than he first imagined.

The hilt was heavy, for starters, and the blade was noticeably lighter than he expected. It was easy enough to understand the allure of these ancient weapons.

After meeting Lord Brutus again, he had washed himself and slipped into a change of free-moving clothes for today's lesson. After he made a promise with his death knight, the eagerly sworn protector insisted they start training today. Much to Rolan's shock, he was initially a little sceptical; after all, wasn't he bleeding out not so long ago? Not to mention, there was a veiled understanding about what had happened after he lost consciousness.

Roland combed his gaze over his new surroundings. The hall reminded him of a sophisticated Grecian gymnasium. The walls were tiled with polished black stone, and tall pillars were erected in the corners. There was even an area where onlookers could sit down and watch. In the centre was a large ring covered in white sand. This is where he was currently standing.

The Willow carried a wooden training sword as he advanced slowly towards Roland.

"There are 8 fundamental strokes of swordsmanship. A strike straight down from the top, straight up from the bottom, diagonally down to the left and so on.

When it comes down to sword fighting, you only need to perfect a single stroke to understand them all. What you will need to constantly practice is your stance and your awareness. Your footwork and agility are crucial in manoeuvring between the attacking and defensive phases. Like this."

The death knight lowered the wooden sword to his side and turned the blade flat towards Roland. He rose onto his tiptoes and began to lightly hop between the left and right heel. His delicate footing was alarmingly quiet. Roland felt his nerves standing up, anticipating something was about to happen. Suddenly, the death knight moved, but his movements were almost impossible to follow.

A shadow blurred across his view in the blink of an eye. Roland stepped back in a desperate bid to avoid him. The flat side of the wooden sword smacked the side of his head lightly. Roland winced before rubbing the side of his head.

"How did you…"

"You were focused on the wrong thing. You cannot control my movements. But you can control your own. If there are 8 basic strokes. You have a 1/8 chance of knowing where I'll attack. Bracing yourself and preparing for them, that's what will save you."

"Now then, I'm going to attack you again and again. Prepare, brace yourself and react accordingly. Let us begin…"

***

Roland stared at the faraway ceiling covered in mosaic patterns. His chest heaved in and out as he struggled to regain his strength. His body ached, and his light clothes clung against his soft brown skin, covered in sticky sweat.

'Omega, how many hours have passed since I started training.'

{4 hours 35 minutes 20 seconds} Replied the system.

A wry smile crept across Roland's lips. Despite his fatigue, it didn't feel like time had moved so quickly. He caught footsteps approaching him before a slender arm reached out to help him upright.

"Well done, young master. We'll continue tomorrow. But first. This is for you."

Roland sat upright in a hurry and stared at the slender grey book being handed over to him. The cover looked worn out. He curiously brushed his fingertips over the surface and felt hardened paper rather than a firm hardcover like he was used to.

His eyes scanned over the front of the book with deep wonder before he placed a questioning look towards the death knight standing beside him.

"Lord Brutus asked me to deliver this to you, young master. This is a one-of-one body refining manual, purposely formed for a unique, specific reason."

The death knight gestured for him to open it. Roland followed suit with the help of Omega's automatic translator protocol. The alien language shimmered into basic English.

"Five Talon-Speared Body Shredded method. Created by Diane Salazar."

Roland gasped out loud. That lady was supposedly his mother. The woman who died two years ago. He carried many questions but instead felt a firm arm falling against his shoulder in response.

"You should go and speak with the Lord of the manor. He has a great deal of things to discuss with you. "Roland nodded his head; he needed a break from all the beating he was taking. And what better way to kill time than taking a quick history lesson. Also,

'Omega, can you begin analysing this text and find out if this is the most effective way to conduct these methods?'

Roland had gotten dressed in more formal clothes. Before he left his room, he checked himself out in the mirror. His clothing style was a mixture of modern and Victorian styles. He might've found this ridiculous looking at one stage of his past life, but things had changed.

Once he stepped out into the long hallway, he noticed the new faces around the castle this morning. After the attack, Lord Brutus wasted no time in finding replacements by the looks of it.

'I only hope these lots survive longer than the others.' He thought grimly whilst he passed the many strangers wearing obvious looks of anxiety.

Roland reached the west wing of the manor. Here, he met a row of closed arch-shaped mahogany doors framed inside an embroidery of rusty gold. One of the doors sat wider than the others. He approached it cautiously and pressed an ear towards the hard redwood. A familiar voice filtered through from the other side. Roland lightly wrapped his knuckles over the doorframe in response.

"Come in." said a gruff voice from inside.

Roland complied and found himself standing in a place that reminded him of a war room. The walls were decorated with different-styled iron weapons and armour. Roland marvelled at the various weapons he had only seen in books until now, from iron-spiked maces to greatswords and bulky shields.

He was given the impression that Lord Brutus was some kind of collector. He guessed that assumption was probably wrong. He had Omega perform a sweep scan of the room before entering. And the brute's clothes noticeably carried aged blood against them.

In the middle of the room, he found the Lord of the manor hovering over a squared table with a vast map against it. Lord Brutus peeled his gaze away from the table and beheld Roland with an affectionate smile.

"Young master, you've…finally arrived."

Roland was taken aback by those warm eyes. The middle-aged man looked as though he had aged an extra 10 years in that short timeframe. It's been a while since he met someone who looked at him like that. That tenderness was genuine.

A warm smile creased against his lips as he bowed his head cordially. "I'm glad you're safe…uncle." Roland noticed the softness in the man's face contort into a look of sadness.

Lord Brutus exhaled a tired breath before gesturing for Roland to come inside.

He closed the door behind him and sat on the nearest chair on the other side of the table.

"How are you feeling today? I heard you received some gruesome wounds? Are you…are you sure you're alright, young one?" Asked Brutus

Roland regarded the man with a pleasant smile. The worried look on his chiselled features reminded him of a caring father.

'I guess he did have a close relationship with my mother then.'

"Yes, I'm alright. I'm not sure how, but my wounds healed faster than I expected, " said Roland, feigning ignorance. He had a feeling his strange dream had something to do with it, but there was not enough evidence to back that thought up.

Thinking of that dream, he should ask Omega to ensure his vitals worked correctly. Lord Brutus considered him briefly before sitting against the leather chair, waiting to catch his fall.

"There are…there are a few things we need to discuss. Yesterday resulted from a lasting blood feud between the respective branch families and the main house."

The seasoned knight slowly removed the heavy gloves away from his large hands.

"It should have never spiralled that far, but I foolishly gambled on those brats having some sense of pride before it got this bad. Nevertheless, the patriarch has stepped in, and we'll have peace…for now." Brutus raised his chin, and a cold light glazed over his dark eyes

Roland felt an intensity behind Brutus' glare. It was clear the animosity between him and this main house was not resolved.

'But why does this feel eerily familiar and subtly like I have something to do with it.'

"Next, did you look at the body refining manual I asked that 'thing' to give you?" Lord Brutus asked, unfurling a scroll that sat beside his arm.

"Eh-y-yes I…I had a look." Roland stammered awkwardly, wondering when the conversation would move towards that.

"Good, before I go further, I need you to understand something, young one. Your mother." Lord Brutus's eyes turned sad.

"sigh…Diane Salazar was once considered the most gifted prodigy this realm had ever seen. By the time she was your age, the King of the Cloud Kingdom had sent countless delegates for her hand in marriage. She refused them all, of course. Her excuse? She didn't want any distractions to ruin her training."

Brutus traced a particular area against the open scroll several times with his finger. Roland narrowed his gaze, wondering what he was reading.

"Everyone expected her to achieve a Gold Ranked Body in a few years. She would've been only the second person to achieve this. But alas…she failed."

"Why? Wh-what happened?" Asked Roland, sensing more to the story.

A warm smile creased against the middle-aged man's rigid features.

"You happened. She fell in love and abandoned her dream. But a few years ago, I watched her fall in love with a new dream. A dream to make sure her beloved son, who was pronounced as a cripple, might one day reach the heights of a gifted warrior."

Brutus motioned the scroll across the table, enabling Roland's gaze to finally see what was written against the oil-skinned paper.

Against this, he saw a large diagram of the human body, with various diagrams and unfamiliar annotations and descriptions. The thing that stood out the most amongst the diagrams was the description…

'Turning Stone into Gold.'

He removed his gaze away and felt his body lightly shiver underneath the precise meaning behind that. He searched Lord Brutus' expression and saw a look of regret against his stiffened features.

"Unfortunately, she died before she could complete it. As far as I know, this manual she created will only take you from the meagre stone rank into a high Iron body within a single night. Of course, this is incredibly dangerous, and if you ask me, this has a 1/75 chance of working."

Roland fought back the urge to show his disgust. He knew something like that was too good to be true. More so, those odds sound less than appealing to any sane mind. But he wondered…

'Omega, can you make a mental copy of this scroll and cross-reference it with your database in any way to reduce the likelihood of death?'

{Affirmative, my host, this Task will take Omega 5hrs 25mins and 12 seconds to complete. Will the host like to continue?"}

Roland sneered under his breath. He had no choice but to comply if he wanted to get stronger. But he wondered if there would be an opportunity to improve the time Omega took to complete these tasks.

'Go ahead with the task.'

{Task has been set: Body refining methodology analysis}

Roland nodded absentmindedly; his strange behaviour caught the attentive Lord Brutus' attention.

"Is something wrong, young one."

Roland snapped back into reality and smiled charmingly.

"Lord Brutus, thank you for all your help, especially the body refining manual from my mother. But you mentioned a deal was made between you and the main house?"

Lord Brutus's countenance darkened at the mention of that. He sat in a brooding silence for a little while before his lips parted aside.

"They want…your grandfather ordered you to return to the main house."

Roland looked visibly surprised to hear that. What benefit was a cripple like him to the main house, considering the stories told by Lord Brutus suggested both he and his mother had been exiled.

"When?" He simply said in response despite the waves of confusion drifting in his thoughts.

Lord Brutus exhaled a deep sigh and leaned back against his chair.

"We have 7 days."