The Fourth Founder-An Age of Adepts SI

Opening the door to his room, Greem strained as he purposely dodged the alert system he set up and lumbered into the room, a hunk of metal on his shoulders.

Already decided on where he'd place this training dummy, he strode into the left corner of the room and lowered the human shaped mass of metal, its wood base colliding with the stone floor with dull thump.

With a light sheen of sweat on his face, he stepped back and examined the steel mannequin, thinking of how he'd adjust its height later.

It needed to match his if he was going to train effectively. Can't be punching upwards or downwards.

Pushing aside the simple task for later, he checked the rippling of fire elementium he set up before leaving and found it undisturbed. Good.

He shut the door and locked it, unslinging the bow from his shoulder and quiver full of arrows from his back right after. They both landed on the bed with a clatter, the ruffling of clothes following soon after as he lost the cloak, his shirt and boots.

Completely free of the slightly discomforting apparel, he beckoned with his Spirit and the bow flew into his open palm. He looked it over from top to bottom, just as he did when he purchased it.

It was a completely normal recurve bow with no magical, projectile enhancing properties, just a rudimentary arcane mechanism that made its draw weight adjustable.

Having no experience to draw from with regards to archery, Greem clutched the pitch black grip and held the weapon straight, its height nearly matching his 5 '7 inches.

He grabbed the string and did a few mock pulls before lowering it on the bed once again.

His attention then went to his waist pouch where he withdrew a crystal ball the size of his fist, filled with milky white fumes.

This memory crystal had eaten up a good chunk of his Knowledge Points, but the cost was well worth it. He placed the ball against his forehead and channeled his Spirit into it.

A slight smile overtook his features when he confirmed its contents; a set of close combat techniques, probably extracted or obtained from the mind of a knight or warrior of some kind.

Anyways, it was his now.

He retracted his Spirit, moved the ball away from his head and sat down, his gaze taking on a contemplative shift.

In this world, all the paths to power had nine main levels, with the tenth or first(depends on how you see it) not counted because they were of little significance to the esteemed and powerful Adepts.

This novice level contained even further subdivisions, namely: Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, and Pseudo Adept.

While those that managed to cross this "starting" barrier to become official Adepts saw anyone within this realm as inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, that wasn't truly the case.

When an apprentice reached Intermediate, they had to have chosen or choose a path to follow; be it Elementium, Body-Refining, Bloodline, or some other obscure one.

They also needed to develop a combat system centered around it, one that utilized and maximized their talents, spells, and abilities—whether innate or obtained—to the fullest.

Aware of this due to his meta knowledge, Greem did not see the point in waiting till he reached Intermediate. His path had already been decided.

He would remain a Body-refiner so long as the entity kept up his end of the bargain. That's why it didn't take him much time to come up with a system and training regimen that perfectly matched his abilities.

As great as it was, the Hercules Method wasn't a fighting style. Though it served as a significant force multiplier for one.

Based on what the essence instilled in him and his memories of the comic, method users were absolutely deadly in close combat, especially against regular people and even other users.

That didn't mean they sucked at ranged combat either. One of the practitioners who had the sense to use firearms, albeit… revolvers from the time of the wild west, proved to be a menace of a shot.

Here in this high magical reality, rarely would Greem go against regular humans. Most of his foes would be individuals with strength equal to or higher than his own, their bodies unbreakable, their plethora of spells varied and devastating.

Preparation was the name of the game for Adepts, and he had a boatload of it to do.

'Preparation…heh. Batman would thrive in this place…' Greem thought with a laugh as he pressed the memory crystal against his forehead.

There was much work to do.

 ☀☀☀

​

2 years later…

Within a brightly lit room, a large, musclebound figure with flowing black hair sat in a meditative pose, a leather tome hovering before him.

All over the giant's body, lines highlighting impressive muscle contours and definition could be observed. His arms and thighs were the size of tree trunks, his chest, shoulders and back nearly as wide as a door.

A simple look was enough to tell even the most daft of individuals that he had a lot of weight on him. Yet, the only thing keeping his chunky, absurd frame from touching the stone floor was a single, thick finger.

Two years of diligently practicing the Hercules Method had proved sufficient for Greem to obtain the level of mastery Luther Strode possessed in the comic.

True to the essence's "words" he no longer required sustenance and could regenerate his stamina and lifeforce endlessly.

If it ever came down to a battle of attrition between him and someone of equal power, the person would fall before he did.

His strength, both physical and spiritual, had also reached this world's standards for Pseudo Adept.

To put it in numeric terms, he had 20 Strength, 20 Physique and 20 Spirit, the absolute maximums humans could possess without changing their fundamental nature in some way.

Greem had also mastered his use of the bow, a short sword, and some close combat techniques. More spells also joined the mix, a few utility ones for basic needs and a combat assist one.

That one was an Advanced level spell that lightened his weight by half, his advancement in the method stifling his growth in the aspect of Agility.

He had strength in spades, possibly the highest of Pseudo Adept body refiners. However, his massive frame slowed him down, making his Agility value half that of Strength.

All this was to say, though the two year period was mostly uneventful, it was well spent.

Greem had been able to refine his body and combat style through countless hours of practice. What he needed now was experience, and fighting other apprentices of his level was the way to get it.

It was good then that things would get lively around the tower soon.

'Ahh… right on cue…'

Exercising his potent Spirit, Greem shut the tome with a loud thump and got on to his feet.

He'd read dozens of books over the years. The one he was just reading was on human anatomy and the effects of sustained elementium exposure. It was pretty interesting, but it'd have to wait.

Some people were here to ask about a murder.

The three sharp knocks that rapped on his door all but validated this.

Gently lowering the tome on the table, he threw a shirt on and loosened the restraint he had on his Spirit and aura, letting the spiritual emanations of a freshly Advanced Apprentice slip through.

'That should make them think twice…' he thought as he extended his Spirit through the door and confirmed the identities of his guests.

Retracting the tendril of energy, he used to unlock the door and came face to face with three Apprentices; Apprentice Leader Anksorus, Apprentice Ellen, and Apprentice Fenrir.

Flanked by his two lackeys, Anksorus' eyes fell on Greem once the door swung open, his stony expression giving way to shock when the former's unrestrained aura blasted all three of them in the face.

Ellen and Fenrir felt their eyes sting and promptly looked away. Only Anksorus managed to maintain eye contact, yet even he remained silent and just stared at Greem, the multiple magical items on him making this possible.

After gawking for more than 5 seconds, Anksorus regained his composure and checked himself, patting the various items and his Apprentice Leader badge to send a message to Greem and ensure he remained protected.

Greem watched all this impassively.

Anksorus and the two parasites clinging to him used their status to bully the junior apprentices, stealing and extorting their resources.

Taking advantage of the murder that had occurred, they intended to sweep through the second floor and loot every apprentices' had earned materials, using the investigation as an excuse.

If someone refused to let them "conduct the search," all Anksorus had to do was tell Adept Anderson, the master of this tower, that said person was responsible for the murder.

When that happened, death would be the most pleasant thing in store for the unlucky apprentice.

It's no wonder their fear or Anksorus' strained posturing meant nothing to Greem. He could kill all three of them right now and when he was brought before the adept, he would return as the new Apprentice leader.

He didn't want that though. So he entertained the clown and his dogs.

Anksorus did all the talking while the cowed Ellen and Fenrir kept their heads lowered, unable to meet his gaze.

"An incident occurred last night. Do you… happen to know anything?"

Maintaining his bored, uninterested expression, Greem responded. "No. What incident?"

Anksorus, somewhat put off by Greem's laid back demeanor and dry tone, kept his eyes on the latter's face and clarified things. "Someone was murdered inside his room."

"Hm?" Greem's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Really? Who died?"

"Muret."

Muret. An ordinary beginner apprentice like the former Greem. He had mastered just one spell and had freckles on his face.

This was all he could remember about the guy. Shaking his head at a teenager like himself dying, Greem frowned and asked the question that hung in the air since this trio knocked on his door.

"So… why are you guys here?"

"We need to check your room. We are checking every apprentice's room. This is not out of spite against you," Anksorus, with a faint tremble and hesitation in his tone, informed.

"Go ahead."

Greem turned his massive body sideways, keeping his eyes on the flabbergasted leader. True to someone of his status, Anksorus swiftly turned and gestured to his trembling lackeys.

"You two. Start the search and make it quick."

As though Greem was their father standing by the doorway with a belt in hand, the duo wobbled into the room while staying as far away from him as possible, their gazes roaming everywhere else but him.

Unlike what they probably did to other apprentices, the duo treated the items in his room like fine porcelain.

The metal dummy covered head to toe in deep fist imprints and cuts must have heightened the already huge impression his aura made on them.

They gently lifted and lowered his pillows and mattress, made sure not to spill the ink on his desk, or spoil the arrangement of books before hastily exiting the room.

Anksorus watched all this with well-hidden disappointment and regret, something Greem picked up on.

Once his lackeys fully exited the room, the Apprentice Leader nodded at Greem and bid him goodbye. "Thank you. Good day."

Faster than they arrived, the shaken trio moved on to the next door. Greem watched them through the tiny gap he left between the door and its frame, anticipation shining in his lone iris.

'Let the show begin…'