As the rays of dawn squeezed through the narrow gap between the blinds of Arthur's room, the man's eyelids fluttered open. As light flooded into his cornea, he rubbed his eyes before sliding off the bed.
As he stood up, Arthur clicked his tongue.
He'd remembered a distasteful moment.
However, ignoring the faint remnant of memory he still retained, Arthur headed towards the shower. Once he'd freshened up, the crimson-eyed man slipped into one of the black tightsuits before grabbing Skofnung and heading out.
Today was his first day of training.
First, he would undergo physical training, after which the class would switch to swordsmanship. Those pursuing physical training and something else would leave after the former class concluded.
Arthur passed by a few other newbies before descending down a staircase that led to a massive field. The ground was somewhat soft, and the atmosphere was the perfect temperature for training.
Not too hot, not too cold.
It seemed Arthur was the first one to arrive.
Except, of course, the instructor. Unlike usual, the Tower Administration had hired players to train newbies. It seemed the Guardians didn't specialize in the training styles the Tower Administration offered.
The instructor for physical and swordsmanship training was a fairly handsome man dressed in a black compression shirt and gray sweatpants. His attire was too casual, considering his stature as a Ranker.
His eyes were a light shade of hazel, while his hair was black.
A casual expression clouded his face. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, which was strapped to his waist. He stood awkwardly, gazing directly at the blinding rays of the Sun, which had only just risen.
Arthur had to admit… It was a mesmerizing scene.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The instructor spoke, turning to face the crimson-eyed man, who seemed surprised.
'How could he sense me… Oh shit, I'm not even a player yet…' Arthur blamed himself for forgetting that he had regressed. Normally, a Ranker would grovel beneath his feet, begging for mercy. It was a nice change of pace.
"Yes, it's truly beautiful," replied Arthur, joining the instructor. The two stood side-by-side. "As they say, as you turn towards the Sun, the shadows fall behind you…"
The instructor chuckled at that remark. "Are you a poet?"
"No," replied Arthur. "I was reminded of something my subordinate once said…"
The subordinate eventually came to stab the crimson-eyed man, but Arthur figured it wasn't worth adding. Even the fact that he had a subordinate as a mere newbie was incredible. His words were bound to cause a misunderstanding.
However, unlike his expectations, the instructor simply nodded. He then turned to face the crimson-eyed man. "Aryan Patel."
"Arthur Solace," replied Arthur, shaking Aryan's hand. "I was told that you're a Ranker."
"Interested?"
"No, simply asking."
Aryan seemed dejected, but regained his composure. Arthur chuckled inwardly at how easily he could determine Aryan's emotions. It was like he was a blank canvas, despite having resided in Heaven's Spire for a fairly long time.
That simply wasn't possible.
Everyone who entered the tower molded into something solid. For many, it was arrogance and overconfidence that stuck with them. For some, it was virtuous values. However, not many… No, none remained as blank canvases.
"What floor have you climbed to?" Arthur asked, maintaining a calm composure while staring at the Sun. As it peeked over the horizon, it displayed an ethereal glow that was more valuable than any other scenery.
"The 67th," replied Aryan. "It's only a matter of time… perhaps a few years before I become a High Ranker."
"How do you convince yourself you won't die on the way there?" Arthur asked. The temperature of the atmosphere plummeted, and Aryan's face darkened. His composure succumbed to Arthur's shocking words.
"Why do you think I will die?"
"You aren't at a playland, Aryan," Arthur reminded. "This is not an amusement park, but the Spire to Heaven. As long as Heaven exists, so will Hell. As long as dreams exist, so will nightmares. Life causes Death. Creation causes Destruction. As long as hope exists, so will despair once you fail."
"You're basing your prediction off of quotes?" Aryan asked, scrunching his eyebrows as he formed a playful expression. It was comical how a youngster could be so mature yet so naive simultaneously.
"I never made a prediction," Arthur said calmly. "I simply asked how you convince yourself you won't die. Never did I mention my opinion."
Aryan let out a sigh, realizing the crimson-eyed man spoke nothing but the truth. It was a new aspect Aryan had never thought about. He knew death was definitely a possibility, but he still attempted to clear the floors with dedication.
What subconscious thought kept him going, assuring him there was a reality without certain death? There was a reality in which he wouldn't die. What thought assured him of that fact, fueling his dedication to climb towards the 100th floor.
Although, there was a slim chance anyone would ever reach that floor.
"Now that I think about it… it's due to my desire to avenge my family," said Aryan. "For my family, I swear I won't die. I know that my family, wherever they are, are protecting me from the shadows."
'Superstitions…' thought Arthur, letting out a sigh internally. The question was made to determine Aryan's competency and his resolve. Although his desire was commendable, his method of providing himself comfort proved that he was incompetent.
His resolve was based on a belief that rooted from his subconscious. Although it provided him with strength, it wasn't solid.
'It's not worth it learning from this guy in the long term,' thought Arthur. Teachers had to have a sense of competency, and a deep-rooted resolve that was similar to that of their students. A teacher without sufficient mental prowess was useless.
It was obvious, based on Aryan's weak resolve, his belief would eventually be shattered.
Someone who based most of their journey on motivation instead of discipline would most likely fail to achieve their goal. Motivation was only the beginning. When motivation faded, one was left with nothing.
However, a way to contradict this was through discipline.
Even if it was uncomfortable, the desire… no, necessity was something that kept one going.
