The Martial Unity

In the depths of a meditation chamber within the Martial Union sat a man.

Rui Quarrier Kandria had isolated himself from everybody and everyone.

He had isolated himself from the world.

Isolated, he did but one thing.

He dedicated himself to but a single task.

A single act.

He honed himself.

He honed his being.

He honed his mind.

He gathered his attention, sharpening it to a point.

His mind converged in all but a single direction.

He refined his thought, ridding it of impurities.

Ridding it of all superfluous thoughts

His faction. The challenge of finding the Divine Doctor. The timeline of his father’s prolonged lifespan.

In time, he had filtered these away from his mind. It, usually flooded with waves of thoughts, had grown almost silent.

Only a few things were allowed to remain.

Battle.

The Gatekeeper.

And, of course, victory.

Nothing else was allowed to remain.

Two weeks of deep mental conditioning had changed his vibes and aura.

It had grown prickly.

Sharp.

Rui had seen fit to enter what was commonly referred to as ‘the zone.’ A state of absolute focus, concentration, and immersion in a single act.

A single direction.

It was not a state that one entered spontaneously.

No.

It was a state that was cultivated.

“It’s been a while…”

A single whisper escaped his mouth.

He glanced at his hands softly.

A surge of power erupted from deep within him, clasping his hands shut into fists.

BOOM

The atmosphere rippled, quivering under the force of the gesture.

CLACK

The door opened to the chamber. “Rui.”

Master Ceeran gently addressed him.

“…”

“It’s time,” Master Ceeran lightly remarked. “We have made all the preparations.”

Rui opened his eyes lightly.

They were as sharp as the edge of a blade.

“We prepared an apt Martial attire for you, custom-tailored to your body by the micrometer, and able to seamlessly accommodate your Metabody System without getting in the way,” Master Ceeran waved his hand as two assistants presented the attire to him.

Rui didn’t so much as glance at it, simply spreading his arms after getting up slowly. The assistants immediately switched his clothes, dressing him up swiftly.

“Let us go,” Ceeran remarked as he gestured outside.

Rui simply walked ahead wordlessly, uncaring to acknowledge the world around him all that much.

As he strode forward with an effortless gait, the many Martial Masters around him did not so much as utter a sound.

Inane comments of good luck and other well-wishing were not worth it.

They weren’t worth disrupting the state that he was in.

A single look in the depths of his pitch-black eyes had made a single truth evident.

At that moment, Rui Quarrier was the strongest he had ever been in his entire life.

What followed may as well have been a blur to Rui. The world had not earned his attention; it had not earned the importance of being committed to his memory.

“We have arrived, Your Highness.”

He briefly stirred at those words. Before he knew it, he was at the battleground. He stepped outside, spotting an enormous wall of light extending into the sky. This was caused by a special luminous esoteric substance to mark the borders of the battle arena with a radius of about thirty kilometers.

While throwing one’s opponent out was not victory, it served as a visual indication to both warriors not to stray away any further.

When they arrived at the wall of light, the other Masters had paused while Rui walked through it, heading to the center of the battlefield.

They heaved a sigh as concern began wringing in their hearts.

“What do you think…?” Master Ceeran heaved a sigh.

“…Well, he’s undoubtedly at the very pinnacle of his combat potential,” Master Zentra remarked. “That certainly increases his probability of victory, however…”

“…It remains unclear if that is enough to overcome the might of Sir Armstrong,” Headmaster Aronian heaved a deep sigh.

“…” Master Vericita simply stared at Rui’s figure with worry in her eyes. “…I just hope he comes out safe.”

Unbeknownst to them, another martial master stood beside them, listening to this conversation as she beheld Rui entering the combat arena.

The Silent Shadow grinned as she gobbled up a large tub of popcorn with palpable excitement. The only thing she needed to do was keep her distance from the Truthseeker of the Martial Union, who was unfortunately present and even serving as one of the invigilators of the battle.

Thankfully, the great distance between them and the fact that she was focused on invigilating a battle with all her attention meant that Master Reina was safe unless she tried to do something particularly risky, like entering the battlefield.

She was grateful that there were no Martial Sages on the battlefield.

Minutes passed as spectating Martial Artists had gathered around the battlefield upon the arrival of one of the contestants.

Soon enough, the second contestant had arrived, earning the attention of all the spectators.

CLACK

The door of the especially enormous carriage opened, and out emerged an enormous behemoth that one could scarcely consider human. The Martial Artists that beheld the gargantuan man stiffened.

Their vision…their senses, they could perceive one and only one thing radiating from the man.

Power.

RUMBLE

The very lands around them tremored as the Gatekeeper surged forth.

“Sir Armstrong,” Master Zentra calmly addressed the gargantuan man. “It has been a while.”

The eyes of the Gatekeeper fell on the man.

“Zentra.”

His voice was as deep as the ocean.

“You’ve grown stronger.”

Its depths struck the heart.

“You’ve trodden the path of control far deeper than I had imagined possible.”

Master Zentra closed his eyes, bowing his head lightly. “I would not have been able to if not for you, Sir Armstrong. You taught me your secrets, allowing me to become who I am today.”

“I merely pointed to a mountain. It is you who has climbed it. Do not prostrate yourself before a meager Martial Senior like myself, Zentra, it is unbecoming of you and undeserving for me,” he regarded the man. “Yet you’re not the only one who has grown.”

His eyes shifted across all the Martial Artists that beheld him.

“Your growth…” A remark escaped his mouth. “…All your growth pleases me.”

Approval radiated from his voice.

“It warms the depth of my heart to know that Martial Art has not stagnated in the centuries since I ceased leading it.”

Master Zentra narrowed his eyes. “Sir Armstrong.”

The man’s eyes returned to him.

“I have a request…” Master Zentra continued. “I would be deeply honored and indebted if you could humor i-“

“-Your desire is transparent,” The Gatekeeper’s powerful voice cut through Master Zentra’s words. “You desire my forfeit, do you not?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“I am afraid I cannot humor that request, my former pupil,” his voice radiated sincerity and regret. “For my victory is necessary.”

RUMBLE

He surged forth, entering the battlefield. “It is necessary for the future of Martial Art.”