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Strength and Greatness [Strength Spec. Training D-B]

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Farah

Farah
β-Tier
β-Tier
Warmth covered the desert of Forgotten Souls that morning. It was still dark, and dawn was near to come. The cold desert nights were beginning to wake up as the first small rays of the suns escaped the horizon and touched the sand. It would be a while before the temperature of the large desert of Heliohapt rose to its normal boiling like state. It was a rather intriguing phenomena, that of the desert. The days were hot like if the gods decided that humans needed to experience a small portion of what the hells would bring them shall they live a life full of sin and depravation. However, the nights were cold like if they also decided to show men what they would live on if they decided to strip the privilege of a burning sun every day for them. All in all, the extreme circumstances of the desert days hadn’t stopped the people of Heliohapt to prosper as one of the most powerful and thriving cities of the world. The red-ish palette of colors that seemed to be taken from one of the masters of art painted the skies with beautiful harmony and resonance, giving off a steadily growing glow of brilliance to the city. The huge buildings that the imperial city had were astonishing. The palace’s along with the Black Pyramid’s might took the breath of everyone that could admire the city from a distance. With that kind of sight, it was impossible to not sigh in admiration and ecstasy. The golden cupules of the palace reflected the brilliance of the morning sun ever so faithfully with the same golden reflection. While the city still slept, a certain man was already up. He stood on top of one of Heliohapt’s tallest buildings. He sat at the edge of the rooftop, with a leg hanging from the structure while he flexed one of his knees to rest his arm. The crimson hair on his head matched that of dawn. He simply observed, silently, as the skies of that morning brought a feeling of completeness to him. Farah, the red haired Fanalis that made his name through his life in the Coliseum of Reim looked at the sunshine whilst he sighed. Moments as beautiful as this made him remember home. His real home. He was born in Zou, and had grown with part of the aristocracy of Zou. However, the one thing he most wanted in these moments was to watch it burn. Watching the flames spread through the imperial capital with its tall wooden buildings, and towers above towers that were perfectly symmetric. He had one last minute of these thoughts before slowly shaking his head and closing his eyes. Farah lowered his head as he slowly took a deep breath. He was ready for that day’s work, however the work he had in mind wasn’t the usual work he did. But instead, he was ready for physical work to increase his abilities. He wanted to practice his swordsmanship as he honed his mind and body. It was time to sharpen up his abilities once more. With those thoughts of revenge in mind, he stood up from his place and jumped down to the streets.

Farah made his way through the still sleeping streets of Heliohapt, before anything moved the red haired man passed the main plaza, the palace, the Black Pyramid and even the bazaar, where he had found one of the best places to drink he’d ever been. Every and all of these places were still closed. However, and even thought the world outside was still dead, the life that slowly made its way through the regular schedule could be heard in the inside of buildings and homes. In just a couple of hours the dead streets would burst with activity like no other. The roads would be crowded to the point of not moving even in the slightest. The boy would run through the streets as they played in the old abandoned buildings and roofs, the poor younger population would run through the streets and markets, ready to see what little they could steal to bring back to their starving families. Guards and merchants would get angry as they’d pursue them as at the same time they drowned in the wealth market provided them with. Farah loved to see all this activity from afar, simply as a spectator that backed off from reality to see everything in an objective and complete panorama. Either way, there was not much to see that moment, or there wouldn’t be much to see in that day. Farah left the city’s boundaries a couple of minutes after that. He was ready to begin with the training he had prepared for him that day. Farah made it through the main roads of Heliohapt that conduced to the Desert of Forgotten Souls. The sand began to grow in temperature by now, as the rays of the sun shone upon it. He looked for a suitable place where he could train in peace and with privacy. After a small while wandering through the endless sand body he found the perfect location. It was a huge rock in the middle of the desert, surrounded by the ancient ruins of the civilization’s that lived and died there. There were small buildings and constructions, being swayed away from existence just like the waves of the ocean swipe the beach sand. He left his things in a place that had shade, and sat beneath the large rock. The place was simply perfect, and Farah began his training immediately. He first wanted to warm up. He decided to climb to the top of the rock first and come down. The way was steep, and in many parts he had to use the strength of his arms to climb to the otherwise inaccessible peak. He could feel the effort his muscles did as they tensioned whilst he climbed the rock. He made it his first time and came back equally trying not to fall. It was hard, since the steepness and the hotness of the rock posed as big obstacles in his task. Farah decided he wouldn’t begin his training until he had climbed and returned down 50 times. He used to do these kind of things back in the Coliseum. Stating numbers so crazy and out of his league that he’d actually find himself satisfied and surprised after finishing. The job took the entire day to complete, and Farah could feel the weakness in his arms after they depleted all their strength. His legs were shaking and so did his body. The red haired Fanalis couldn’t move an inch more, and although his entire body shook with exhaustion, his dried mouth pleaded for water and his empty stomach for food, he posed a smile of satisfaction.

The entire week was a hard one for Farah. He secluded himself for 7 days, and for 7 days he didn’t rest a single day moment. Only the night was the moment where he’d regain his strength just to completely deplete it in the morning. The second day he decided to strengthen his arms specifically. He grabbed an enormous rock, one that would be impossible to lift by humans. However, even his Fanalis strength seemed not to be enough to maintain it in the air and in his hands. Either way, Farah swung it up and down slowly. He’d be exhausted and wondering how he’d finish his task after 20 swings. However, he remembered his goals and motivations as he obliviously continued with his work. His muscles hurt and burnt with the exercise, but his mind was focused in one single thing. The day finished when he reached 200, and he knew his arms wouldn’t move for an entire day. The next day he strengthened his legs. He rested his back against the rock in a squat position as he placed a large rock on his lap. Once more, the burning sensation of the effort done by his muscles burned like the fiery images he imagined as he separated from this world into his thoughts. By the end of the day he couldn’t even stand, and stumbled to the ground to sleep in the place he was. The fourth day he honed his mind. It was an important task in swordsmanship and a required ritual for those that lived down the path of the sword. He tried to connect his mind with his body as he focused on feeling every single tissue in his system. He felt rejuvenated by the end of the day as he went to sleep. The next three days he practiced non-stop in his sword skills. Not even at night he would rest for a moment and for three days Kaysir Al-Fiqar would swing through the air in an endless dance. Farah practiced all and every single movement like a dancer practices its routine. Every swing aimed to be precise, every thrust aimed to be strong, every movement aimed to be perfect.

When he left the place, he returned to the city. However, he was now a different man. He could feel it in his veins and through his body. He now began riding the path to strength, power and greatness.

-EXIT-
[1544/1500]

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