Dining Table...
Aryan indulged in the exquisite delicacies his mother had prepared, each bite a testament to her culinary mastery. Feasts like these weren't rare in their household, yet today's spread surpassed all expectations. It was as if his mother had sworn an oath to transform her son into a 130-kilogram glutton.
Had it not been for his relentless practice of the Vajrasana Body, her ambitious plan might have succeeded. He could almost hear himself quipping, "I'm not fat because I eat too much. I'm fat because my mom's food is criminally delicious."
But fate had other plans. His well-toned physique, honed with dense muscle fibers, burned every calorie with ruthless efficiency. He remained a food enthusiast untouched by weight gain — a blessing many, especially the ladies, would envy.
Yet, as he relished another spoonful, a subtle emptiness crept in. No amount of culinary artistry could fill it. It was a void—the absence of someone who should have been there.
"Mom," Aryan called, his tone soft yet probing.
"Hmm?" she responded, not looking up.
"Do you remember the day when the Vajrasana Body's side effect spiraled out of control?"
A chuckle escaped her lips. "Of course, I remember. How could I forget the day my little Aryan cried rivers because he wasn't cute anymore? Such a silly boy."
Aryan huffed, half in protest, half in resignation. "Hey, it's not my fault. Who told Dad to bring home a weird physique art from… wherever he found it? You two always got suspiciously quiet when I asked about it. Where did it really come from?"
For a fleeting second, her hand froze above the dish she was serving. Then, as if the moment had never occurred, she resumed. "It's something your father acquired on one of his adventures. When he took it to your grandfather for analysis, do you know what he said?"
Aryan shook his head, intrigued.
"He called it the most perfect Physique Art he'd ever seen. If your father had submitted it to the Association, it would've earned him millions."
"Really? Is it that magical?" Aryan mused, flexing his arms unconsciously. "Well, I do feel much stronger after completing it. But... aren't all Physique Arts supposed to be like this?"
His mother's smile thinned into a knowing curve. "You'll understand one day. It's a magnificent Origin Art, yes—but do you remember how many rare resources it devoured? Your father went to great lengths to gather them. So, be sure to thank him properly."
Aryan's chopsticks hovered mid-air. "I've been meaning to, but… when is he coming back, Mom? It's been nearly two years. Will he not even show up for my Awakening Ceremony?"
The room fell into a silence that echoed louder than words. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, yet each syllable carried weight. "He might be occupied with matters more pressing than we know. Ever since his Core injury, life hasn't been kind to him. He's no longer the man who could roam the wilderness with ease. Providing for us has become a battle in itself. Please, Aryan… be patient with your father."
A familiar ache stirred within Aryan's chest. His father's Elemental Core injury was inflicted by a guardian of the empire.
The severity of his injury depleted Aryan's family savings, plunging their' lives into misery—socially, mentally, and economically—in every conceivable way.
To be the target of ridicule, to feel utterly hopeless and broke—these were experiences no one desired.
But sympathy was a hollow gift his parents never sought. Aryan knew better than to offer empty words. What he could offer was resolve—a silent promise to rise above it all.
Once breakfast ended, Aryan and his mother prepared for the long-awaited day. Their journey began in a peculiar vehicle that resembled a horse-drawn carriage, minus the horses. Instead, a metallic engine, with a spherical core and an array of concealed mechanisms, powered the contraption. Pipes on either side expelled steam, acting as heat sinks to manage the core's relentless energy.
Aryan often wondered how these metal boxes harnessed Origin Energy to propel themselves. But his heart was set on the path of an Elementalist, not a mechanic.
Their destination lay 20 kilometers away in Redien City—the local branch of the Elemental Association. These branches orchestrated the Awakening Ceremonies across the Council of South Armea, a fractured alliance of five ancient kingdoms united only by necessity against the ever-looming Aslan Empire. While the Council was a patchwork of power-hungry nobles and crumbling legacies, it was still the heart of Armea's political theatre.
Snippets of conversation floated through the carriage as fellow passengers discussed the shortcomings of mechanical transports.
"These vehicles are fast, sure, but they're useless off-road," one remarked.
"Exactly," another replied. "No Elementalist worth their salt would rely on them. Even commoners prefer Beast Mounts. Some winged species can carry riders, becoming companions and protectors alike, while these become show pieces the moment they land on uneven terrains"
"But you can't deny they are handy for regular travels, right?"
The discussion continued. As Aryan listening to them memories resurfaced. It was a memory of a four years old child encountering an eagle with 10 meters wingspan. A happy-go-lucky kid was playing in the garden when all of a sudden, a giant shadow covered him.
As he looked upward, the view of a descending eagle scared the shit out of him. The terrified kid screamed for his guardian 'Mama' out of his lung as his index finger pointed at the intruder.
But soon, fear became astonishment as he saw the heroic figure of a man riding that gigantic creature. And that was the first time he saw a beast mount, also his father.
His father.
The recollection coaxed a smile to Aryan's lips. Aryan chuckled at his naivety, thinking that mother could handle an adult Garuda if it posed any threat.
"Do you want one, Aryan?" his mother's voice pierced through his reverie.
"A Beast Mount?" he asked.
"Not just a mount. A companion, that would not hesitate to go through life and death in your journey. Like your father's Paru," she said with a serious tone, to emphasize the bond of an elementalist and his companion.
Aryan's eyes lit up. "I'd love to, Mom! But... wouldn't it be difficult to raise one while I'm at the academy?"
She chuckled. "Battle academies encourage students to bond with beast companions. They even have dedicated departments for it."
With a teasing grin, she added, "So, what kind of companion would you prefer? A rabbit?"
"Mom!" Aryan groaned. "Why would I want a rabbit? I want a Garuda, just like Dad."
She laughed, ruffling his hair. "Alright, alright. I'll ask him to find a suitable cub for you."
As they neared Redien City, the streets grew lively with vendors hawking everything from skewered meats to low-tier cultivation resources. Stalls displayed flashy titles like 'Awaken a Godly Element in 3 Days' and 'Cultivate Like a Genius Without Talent.' Aryan couldn't help but chuckle. The art of persuasion was alive and well; these salesmen could probably sell air to a Wind Elementalist.
Ignoring the chaos, Aryan darted towards the auditorium, his mother trailing behind with a patient smile. The registration process was tedious, but eventually, Aryan was handed his serial number: 123.
"I guess I'm not the only eager one," he muttered.
Taking a seat beside his mother, his gaze fixated on the stage where rows of peculiar boxes were neatly stacked.
"Mom, what's in those boxes?" he asked.
"Sensory Serums," she replied. "They heighten your senses to detect Origin Energy. You'll get one too. If it feels strange, stay calm and follow the advisor's instructions."
"I will." Aryan leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.
The auditorium gradually filled with a sea of families, their murmurs blending into a rising tide of anticipation. After an hour, a man in a sky-blue suit ascended the podium. His presence alone silenced the crowd.
"I am Richard Arrington," he began, his voice calm yet commanding. "Ranked 17th in the Hall of Blue Seats. Also, the only Sound Elementalist of Redien City."
A ripple of awe swept through the room. Sound Elementalists were rare—a fact that explained how he silenced hundreds with a mere clap.
Richard continued, "I know you're all eager, as was I at your age. So, I'll keep this brief. But before we begin, let's ensure everyone understands what Elemental Affinity truly means."
He invited a young boy to define Origin Energy and Elemental Energy. The boy's textbook response drew a faint smile from Richard.
"Close enough," Richard said. "Affinity is the closeness you share with an element—your eligibility to command it. It stems from continuous interaction with that element, shaped by ancestry and other factors. However, let me remind you, no element is superior or inferior. People often belittle Earth or Water users, yet we forget—every step we take is on Earth, and our bodies are seventy percent Water. Every element has its purpose."
A brave boy's question cut through the quiet. "Then how do we measure strength if all elements are equal?"
Richard's smile widened. "Battle prowess isn't about your element alone. It's shaped by your Origin Arts, your combat intuition, and the unique properties of your element. You'll understand more when you begin forming your Elemental Core."
He clapped once more. The air vibrated.
"Now, let's begin. You'll be called by name and serial number. A Sensory Serum will be administered, and you'll approach the Elemental Essence Crystals behind me. Absorb their essence, and your affinity will reveal itself. Simple as that."
With a final swig of water, Richard took his seat, radiating an aura of disinterest that only seasoned professionals could muster.
"Serial One, Denial Silva. Please come to the stage."
The auditorium, moments ago serene, erupted into a chorus of chatter, excitement, and nervous anticipation.