The Ascendant Mortal: Beyond Divine Boundaries

The night had settled over Nalanda University, and Aamir found himself once again sitting cross-legged in his room, meditating. The rhythmic flow of his adrenaline energy coursing through his body was a soothing balm, calming his nerves and sharpening his senses. He had a lot to process since the guild selection ceremony and his induction into the Rath Chakra Guild.

Just as he was sinking deeper into his meditation, the sound of the door opening startled him. He opened his eyes to find a tall, muscular boy with sharp features standing at the entrance. The boy had an air of confidence, though his expression was somewhat hesitant as he lingered by the door.

Aamir stood up, breaking the silence. "Hello, I'm Aamir. And you?"

The boy straightened up and introduced himself. "I'm Raj. Raj Shekhawat. You're the guy who got yelled at in the administration office, right? Sorry about that, I was in a hurry and might've come off as rude."

Aamir chuckled, brushing off the memory. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't a big deal. But why are you just standing there?"

Raj hesitated before responding. "You were meditating. I didn't want to disturb you."

Aamir smiled at his thoughtfulness. "Ah, I see. Well, it's getting late. I'm going to meditate again if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Raj said, moving to his bed. "I'll sleep now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Aamir replied, settling back into his meditative stance.

The next morning, Aamir woke early and prepared to visit the Cultivation Hall. It was the day he would claim his guild rewards—a moment he had been eagerly anticipating.

As he walked through the sprawling campus of Nalanda University, the energy in the air was palpable. Students were bustling about, some practicing martial arts in open fields, others immersed in their studies. The sight filled Aamir with a sense of purpose and determination.

The Cultivation Hall was an imposing structure, a massive building adorned with carvings of legendary warriors and beasts. Its sheer size and grandeur were awe-inspiring.

Stepping inside, Aamir was greeted by a bustling scene. The hall was filled with students, each engrossed in their training. To the right, rows of weapons gleamed under the sunlight streaming through the high windows. To the left, just beside the door, was a desk where a bald man with a prominent scar across his head sat, scribbling something on a parchment.

Aamir approached the desk confidently. "I'm Aamir," he stated.

The man looked up, his piercing gaze scanning Aamir for a moment before he stood. "Follow me," he said curtly.

The man led Aamir to a room adjacent to the main hall. As the door creaked open, Aamir's eyes widened in awe. The room was filled with armors of various designs, each exuding a unique aura. Some gleamed brightly as if polished daily, while others bore marks of age and battles fought long ago.

The man gestured towards the armors. "You can choose whichever one you want."

Aamir began examining the armors, running his hands lightly over their surfaces. Each one seemed remarkable, yet none resonated with him. As he moved further into the room, his gaze fell upon an old, dusty black armor tucked away in a corner.

It was unlike any of the others. The armor bore intricate red patterns that seemed to pulse faintly, almost as if alive. A strange aura emanated from it—an aura that only Aamir seemed to feel.

He paused, unable to tear his eyes away. A connection stirred deep within him, pulling him toward the armor.

"That one," he said, pointing to it.

The man's eyes widened in shock. "Are you sure? That armor is ancient. It's been here since the founding of Nalanda University. No one has ever been able to awaken its power. Even Haider Ali tried and failed. What makes you think—"

"I'm sure," Aamir interrupted confidently.

The man hesitated before nodding. "Very well. Go ahead."

Aamir approached the armor, his heart pounding. As he extended his hand, his fingers brushed against the surface.

In an instant, the red patterns began to glow brightly, the dusty surface shedding its age as if reborn. A surge of energy coursed through the room, and the armor seemed to hum with life.

The man stepped back, astonished. "Unbelievable... No one has been able to awaken this armor for a thousand years. And yet, with just a touch..."

Aamir felt a deep resonance with the armor, as if it had recognized him as its rightful owner. "This is mine," he said softly, more to himself than to anyone else.

The man nodded, still in awe. "It seems so. That armor is yours now. Here, take this."

He handed Aamir a small pouch, barely the size of a hand.

"This is a Grade 2 Dimensional Pocket. It's a rare artifact that can store a city's worth of items. To use it, channel your adrenaline energy into it and think of what you want to store or retrieve. Try it with your armor."

Aamir nodded and focused his energy on the pouch. Thinking of the armor, he watched in amazement as it vanished into the pouch. The process felt seamless, almost natural.

"Impressive," the man said with a smile. "I'm Dharam, the in-charge of this hall. Now, follow me back to the desk. There's more to give you."

Back at the desk, Dharam handed Aamir a card. It was yellow and white, with the Rath Chakra Guild's symbol emblazoned on it—a giant sword crossed by a lightning bolt. A small chip was embedded in the corner, and Aamir's name was inscribed below it.

"This is your Reputation Card," Dharam explained. "All your reputation points are stored here. Use it to purchase items, access restricted areas, or participate in special events. The more points you earn, the more privileges you unlock."

Dharam then handed him a badge—a metallic pin with the same sword symbol, adorned with two stars.

"This is your guild badge. The stars represent your current level. As you grow stronger, more stars will appear. Wear it with pride; it signifies your rank within Rath Chakra."

Aamir fastened the badge onto his chest, feeling a surge of pride and responsibility.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

Dharam chuckled. "Don't thank me, kid. Your journey has just begun. Now go, make the most of what you've earned."

After Aamir received his guild badge and reputation card from Dharam, he followed the man's instructions and began looking over the various weapons in the hall. The sheer number of options was overwhelming—swords of all types lined the shelves, from long swords to katanas, curved dao blades to the exotic hook swords. There were also a variety of other weapons: gauntlets, spears, and even futuristic-looking guns. The weapons seemed to call to the students, each offering its own unique set of advantages depending on the fighter's preferences.

Aamir moved through the weapons with a discerning eye. He was searching for something that felt right for him—a weapon that would complement his style and abilities. His fingers brushed over the sleek, well-balanced hilts, but none seemed to resonate with him as he moved further into the hall.

Finally, Aamir's gaze landed on a sword. It was not a long sword but rather a medium-length blade that wasn't quite a katana either. The blade was sleek, with a subtle curve but not as pronounced as a katana's typical arc. It had a unique, polished finish, and despite its size, it felt like it could offer both precision and power. The hilt was well-balanced and felt like it could accommodate a user who was both nimble and strong.

Aamir took the sword in hand, testing its weight and balance. It felt natural in his grip. He swung it in a series of fluid motions, slicing through the air in a smooth arc from left to right, then up and down. His movements were sharp, almost instinctual.

"This one," Aamir said to himself as he admired the blade.

He walked back to Dharam, still holding the sword. "Can you recommend any Adreno Arts for this?"

Dharam studied the sword closely, running his fingers over the blade's edge and examining its subtle curves. "You have a taste for strange things, don't you, Aamir? That sword is certainly unique, but it's an excellent choice for you. You might want to try Dragon's Blade—it's an Adreno Art that works perfectly with swords like this one."

"Dragon's Blade?" Aamir repeated, intrigued. "What does it do?"

"Dragon's Blade is an advanced technique that harnesses the power of adrenaline to enhance your swordsmanship. It allows you to channel your energy into the blade, creating powerful, controlled strikes that can overwhelm an opponent's defenses. It's a technique favored by those who excel in agility and power combined."

Aamir nodded, understanding the potential. "That sounds perfect."

He paused before asking, "How many Adreno Arts books can I take from the library?"

Dharam chuckled. "Well, Adreno Arts are divided into eight levels based on the mastery of adrenaline energy. Let me explain the progression:

Rank 1 For Rookie – Basic techniques suitable for beginners.

Rank 2 For Apprentice – Intermediate techniques that start to incorporate more complex moves.

Rank 3 For Master – Advanced techniques, where control over adrenaline energy is refined.

Rank 4 For Grandmaster – Techniques that require near-perfection in energy control.

Rank 5 For Legend – Rare and powerful techniques that only a few can master.

Rank 6 For Conqueror – Techniques that grant overwhelming strength and speed.

Rank 7 For Limit Breaker – Techniques that push the boundaries of physical and mental endurance.

Rank 8 For World's Slicer – The peak of Adreno Arts, where the user can manipulate their energy in almost impossible ways."

Aamir thought for a moment before responding. "I'm not sure where I stand, but I'm definitely ready to learn. How can I figure out my current level?"

Dharam smiled knowingly. "Well, let's test it. Come with me."

He led Aamir to a small training area at the back of the hall, where a set of targets was lined up. Dharam gestured for Aamir to stand at a marked spot in the center of the room.

"Focus your adrenaline energy, and then strike the target with your sword. We'll see how far your current level takes you."

Aamir took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He focused inward, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline energy coursing through his veins. Slowly, he began channeling it into his sword, feeling the power of the blade shift as his energy infused it.

With a determined look on his face, Aamir lunged forward and swung his sword in a fluid motion. The sword cut through the air with incredible precision, and the target in front of him shattered into pieces, sending fragments flying in all directions.

Dharam watched in awe as the target was obliterated. "Impressive," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "You're definitely above the Rookie level. But to know your exact standing, we'll need to do a more precise assessment."

Aamir, still catching his breath, felt a surge of excitement. He had always known he had potential, but now he was starting to see the fruits of his training. The road ahead was long, but with the sword and Adreno Art to guide him, he felt ready to face whatever came his way.

face whatever challenges lay ahead.