Chapter 128: Aurelian

Aurelian breathed in, letting the thrice-filtered air into his lungs. It was refreshing, as it was meant to be, and prepared him for the coming test. The training chamber hummed around him, every wall lined with mirrored alloy that reflected his figure in sharp detail. The room was rectangular, but the surfaces weren’t fixed. Instead, they shifted depending on the session’s demands, each plate sliding seamlessly into new formations as ordered by the central system. Right now, it was a bare hall, a hundred feet long, lights flooding down from panels recessed overhead. He took a moment to admire his figure. Over six feet tall, strong but lean, with a head of auburn brown hair and vibrant yellow eyes. He had always been called handsome, and as he got older, it was easier to tell why. Aurelian twirled the staff in his hand, letting it blur into a whirl of steelwood and crackling energy. Both ends were capped in pale blue emitters that hummed faintly, occasionally crackling with power. Each rotation whistled with air pressure, the staff comfortable in his grip after so many years of training. He closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself before calling out to no one in particular. "Assistants." At once, the wall opposite him split open, releasing six constructs. They resembled human frames but sleeker, built from steel, iron, and silver plating. Their faces were smooth, bearing no features beyond a thin glowing line for optics, which glowed a steady amber. Each also carried a collapsible staff, extending with a metallic snap as they fanned into formation. Aurelian struck the ground once with his own staff, the sound reverberating. "Program: advanced. Pattern nine." The constructs froze for half a heartbeat, then surged forward. The first came in from the right, its staff slicing diagonally. Aurelian stepped into the strike, his own weapon rising at just the right angle to deflect it. The clash produced a sharp crack, energy dancing across both emitters without a goal. He pivoted, using the momentum to sweep the construct’s legs. It dropped, but another immediately filled its place, driving its staff toward his chest. Aurelian spun, gripping the center of his weapon while letting both ends whirl in a circular guard. Sparks flew as three strikes in succession bounced away, his body flowing seamlessly from one practice stance to another, every step perfectly measured. ’Just as they taught me.’ His staff blurred, no longer creating separate strikes but a continuous motion, offensive and defensive mixing into one single form. One of the constructs overextended, its staff aimed too low to be effective. Aurelian slid forward, snapping his weapon into a vertical arc that crashed against its neck. The emitter flared, and the machine’s optics flickered before it staggered back, disabled. The others didn’t falter. They pressed as a unit, two engaging him at close quarters while the rest circled, waiting for their chance. Their precision was almost perfect, certainly greater than they normally were. ’But not good enough. The last patterns were easy to memorize and disable, and it appears this shall be the same.’ Aurelian ducked, letting a strike whistle over his head, then jabbed backward with the staff’s rear. It caught one in the abdomen, forcing it a step away. He didn’t pause, instead flowing his entire body into the next move, sweeping horizontally with enough force to shatter its weapon in two. The broken staff clattered across the floor, the construct retreating automatically. Then another filled the gap, striking fast. Aurelian leaned aside, letting the blow slice past his shoulder. He caught the shaft mid-air with his free hand, pulled, and spun the machine into its ally. Both crashed into the floor, limbs tangled. He exhaled sharply, sweat already forming along his forehead. The chamber was cool, but every movement demanded precision. Too much force, and he wasted energy; too little, and the constructs would remain unharmed. It was a stressful balance that was more mental than physical. The hum of shifting plates reached his ears. Without warning, a wall panel slid inward, forming an obstacle that cut the chamber in half. The constructs adapted instantly, splitting around it. Aurelian grinned faintly. ’I guess the system isn’t taking it easy on me today. Perhaps someone has found their way into the control booth and seeks to test me?’ He vaulted onto the panel with a single leap, his staff held high. Two constructs swung from either side, their strikes perfectly timed. He planted the weapon down between them, using it as leverage to flip himself clear of their forms. His boots hit the ground, and he rolled, sweeping his staff low to unbalance both attackers. They fell in opposite directions, but another was already overhead, its staff crashing down. Aurelian caught the strike on the center of his weapon, sparks shooting out from the point of impact. His knees buckled under the immense pressure, but he managed to twist, rolling the enemy’s force aside. His staff lashed out, the emitter flaring against its chest plate and leaving a scorched dent. The machine staggered, giving him space. He took only a moment to catch his breath, knowing that oxygen was required for his body to operate properly, even with his exorbitant amount of natural mana. Then he launched forward. His staff blurred into arcs, each strike flowing into the next. He used the weapon like an extension of himself, ends snapping into precise, critical points of the human body. ’Knees, wrists, shoulders, temple, kidney, collarbone.’ He broke their rhythm, forcing them back in the process.. The training chamber echoed with the percussion of staff on staff, each impact a ringing note in a sudden band. He might have been a fighter, but now he was nominally a drummer as well. Aurelian vaulted again, flipping over one construct and slamming his weapon downward like a hammer. The machine collapsed, its head caved in. He spun mid-motion, letting the staff strike a second across the head, dropping it on the spot. ’Only three left.’ They tightened formation, their backs nearly touching. They advanced together, every strike coordinated to minimize openings. Aurelian narrowed his eyes. He adjusted his grip, shifting to holding the staff like a spear. The first strike came high, another low. He deflected the high, jumped the low, and landed with his staff thrusting forward. The weapon pierced through one construct’s chest plate, the amber optics flaring before going dull. The remaining two struck in perfect unison. He let his body drop while spinning his staff in a circle to catch both blows. His knees hit the ground hard, but he used the low position to sweep outward. The machines staggered, allowing him to rise with a sudden surge of power. Flipping the staff into a broad arc that cracked both across their torsos, he smirked as sparks exploded. With the final machines down, only silence remained. Aurelian stood in the center of the ruined constructs with his chest rising and falling. The mirrored walls reflected the carnage, with the assistant corpses strewn about like ragdolls. Slowly, he lowered his weapon, allowing himself to spin it one final time before flicking the emitters’ flicker off. The staff’s hum faded, replaced only by the low drone of the training chamber resetting. The walls shifted again, the obstacles sinking back into place, leaving an empty hall as if nothing had happened. Aurelian drew a long breath and exhaled, rolling his shoulders at the same time. His arms ached faintly, alongside his knees. His palms were badly bruised, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. ’I can practice my magic on them later, try and increase the healing rate.’ Suddenly, the chamber’s robotic voice boomed from the hidden speakers. It echoed twice, making sure all the participants could hear, regardless of circumstances. "Program complete." He smiled softly while shaking his head. ’For now. Once I am granted constant access, I hope to keep those drones busted all hours of the day.’ With a flick of his wrist, he reset the sequence. The walls began to shift again, preparing for the next trial. It was a neat trick his family had hooked onto his holo-pad, saving him the time of going to the command deck and back. They had a habit of doing that, making sure he maximized his time. Every spare second had to be allotted to an important task, whether it be training, meditating, or studying the various movements of the empire as the civil war loomed. ’Master was telling me that the final preparations have been made. The Church of Death was ready before us, yet we shall prevail. The Church of Life has stood for thousands of years, and it will stand for thousands more.’ When he was younger, he had been more critical of his faith’s dogma, but in recent years, he had been more receptive. With a sigh, he twirled his staff and reactivated it, accepting the fact that he had time for one more. "Program: advanced. Pattern ten." The room set to work to follow his command, the mechanical grinding of gears reaching his ears. ’There is no time to rest for the priests, and even less for me. They can’t know that their Archon is slacking.’