Multiversal Hotel

Arthur sat at the front desk in Avalon's elegantly transformed lobby, his gaze drifting between the soft glow of the chandelier above and the faint shimmer of the system notification before him. The list of Geralt and Vesemir's talents lingered in his mind, each one a gateway to new possibilities. He'd narrowed it down to two key choices—both practical, both essential.

He leaned back in his chair, letting the options settle over him. The more he weighed them, the clearer his direction became. Avalon had become a place of strength and refuge for people from across worlds, and Arthur knew that if he wanted to stand as its steward, he needed not only the knowledge but the endurance and speed to protect it.

After a moment of focused thought, he made his selection.

[System Notification: Talents Acquired]

[Vesemir's Talent – Veteran's Stamina]

[Geralt's Talent – Enhanced Combat Reflexes]

As he read over the words, a warm, invigorating energy surged through him. He could feel Vesemir's Veteran's Stamina settling into his bones, a wellspring of endurance and resilience that seemed to sharpen his senses. His breathing steadied, and he felt an underlying strength that would help him withstand any challenges Avalon might present. It was the kind of endurance that could only come from centuries of hard-won experience, refined and tempered over time.

Veteran's Stamina provided:

– Enhanced Recovery: Arthur felt his body's natural recovery rate quicken, a built-in resilience that would help him stay alert and ready even after long days of work.

– Focused Endurance: The stamina Vesemir had honed over decades of training and battles was now Arthur's, giving him the ability to keep going when others might falter.

– Unyielding Will: A mental fortitude settled within him, a grounding force that would allow him to maintain clarity under pressure, even in high-stress situations.

As the energy of Vesemir's talent fused with him, Arthur felt his thoughts sharpen. He'd spent countless hours studying, practicing, and helping Avalon's guests, and now, with Vesemir's resilience as his own, he could push further, building Avalon into an even stronger sanctuary.

The second talent, Enhanced Combat Reflexes, pulsed through him like a spark of lightning, raw and ready. Geralt's skill wasn't just about speed—it was about a refined, instinctual response honed to perfection.

Enhanced Combat Reflexes granted:

– Quick Response Time: Arthur felt his reflexes heighten, his reaction time drastically shortened. The sensation was subtle but unmistakable; he could sense an impending movement almost before it happened.

– Precision and Efficiency: Geralt's talent brought a refined edge, a trained instinct to make every movement count, whether he was defending himself, navigating Avalon's guests, or handling potential threats.

– Heightened Awareness: A sense of clarity washed over him, sharpening his awareness of his surroundings. Every shift in the lobby's air, every quiet sound—Arthur was more attuned to the environment, ready to respond to anything unexpected.

Arthur rose from the front desk, rolling his shoulders and feeling the invigorating energy settle naturally into his body. He tested his new reflexes, running his fingers over the polished wood, then lightly tapping the surface with rapid precision. His movements were crisp and sure, the results of Geralt's battle-hardened instincts already taking root.

He took a deep breath, letting the weight of his decision sink in. These two talents would shape his role here, and he felt a newfound confidence that they were exactly what Avalon needed him to embody.

"Good choice," Avalon's voice murmured, its tone warm and approving. "Both practical and powerful. Resilience, focus, speed… these traits will serve you well."

Arthur nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "It feels right. These are skills I can use every day to keep Avalon secure, and to guide our guests with strength." He glanced around the lobby, the serene elegance a reminder of his role and purpose. "With everything that's happening—the connected worlds, the guests arriving—I'll need to be prepared for anything."

With the newfound talents coursing through him, Arthur couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence, a sense that he was now equipped for the challenges that lay ahead. Vesemir's stamina and Geralt's reflexes had given him a solid foundation—one that was more than just knowledge. These were the core strengths he would need to begin his martial journey in earnest.

As he glanced around the lobby, he envisioned the Martial Hall, the place that had been shaped by the strength of warriors like Guan Yu, Musashi, and Hua Mulan. In their recent encounter, he'd felt the weight of their battle-hardened auras, each of them masters of their own combat styles. With the resilience of Vesemir and the quick, instinctive responses of Geralt, Arthur realized he now had the means to step onto that path himself—sooner than he'd thought possible.

Avalon's voice, almost as if reading his thoughts, murmured with gentle encouragement. "Perhaps it's time for you to enter the Martial Hall, Arthur. With the talents you've gained, your journey into martial training could begin earlier than expected. You'll find the strength within you now to match your will."

Arthur's hand instinctively flexed, feeling the raw potential within him. "You're right, Avalon," he replied, his voice steady. "I think I'm ready to see what the Martial Hall has to offer."

Avalon's presence seemed to brighten, as though pleased. "Then you may find the Hall has more to show you than before. The path is yours, Arthur."

With that, Arthur made his way toward the elevator, each step filled with a quiet resolve. He could already picture the Martial Hall—the training grounds, the calligraphic symbols marking the walls, the sounds of combat echoing in its vast space. This time, he wouldn't be merely an observer. He would step into the role of a true martial student, ready to face the rigorous training that lay ahead.

As the elevator descended, Arthur felt the talents within him take root even more deeply. Vesemir's stamina would give him the endurance for extended practice and conditioning, while Geralt's reflexes would allow him to react with precision and speed. He would be able to train directly under Avalon's warriors, learning the techniques and forms of battle that each of them had mastered.

The doors slid open, and Arthur stepped into the Martial Hall. It seemed to hum with energy, as though sensing his new purpose. In the center of the vast space, he spotted Guan Yu, Mulan, and Musashi engaged in a discussion. They turned as he approached, each of them evaluating him with the keen, appraising eyes of experienced warriors.

Guan Yu's eyes gleamed as he took in Arthur's stance, his expression one of recognition. "You've acquired strength," he said, a subtle nod of approval in his tone. "The resolve of a warrior."

Arthur inclined his head respectfully, feeling the weight of his new talents settle into his stance. "I've come to begin my training, if you'll have me."

Mulan smiled, a spark of challenge in her gaze. "Then let us see what you've brought with you," she said, gesturing for him to step forward.

Arthur felt his pulse quicken, not out of fear but out of anticipation. This was a new chapter, a path he was ready to walk with every skill he had gained. The Martial Hall awaited him, and with Vesemir's stamina and Geralt's reflexes as his foundation, Arthur stepped forward into his first true lesson. Musashi stepped forward, a calm authority radiating from him. He raised a hand, cutting through the silence with a soft but firm voice.

"Brother. Sister," Musashi said, inclining his head to Guan Yu and Mulan. "Allow me to train him this time. From what I observe, Arthur's body and spirit… they seem to be at odds."

Guan Yu considered this, then turned to Arthur with a small nod. "Very well, Arthur. Your first lesson will be with my brother." He gestured for Arthur to follow. "Listen carefully. You're in the best hands."

Arthur nodded, feeling the weight of Musashi's gaze on him, sharp and discerning. Without a word, Musashi turned and began to walk toward a quieter section of the hall. Arthur followed, glancing back to see Mulan and Guan Yu sitting down over tea, their conversation carrying a sense of peaceful camaraderie.

Musashi led Arthur to an open space, a sparse, simple corner of the hall that seemed almost untouched by the intensity of combat. There were no weapons in sight, just a single mat and a few candles flickering at the edges of the space. The quiet here was deep, almost reverent, and Arthur felt his mind settle as he took in the simplicity around him.

Musashi turned, his gaze settling on Arthur with a calm intensity. "Arthur," he began, his voice as quiet as the space around them, "there is something important you must understand before you begin any martial path."

Arthur listened, feeling the weight of Musashi's words. He spoke with the tone of a scholar rather than just a swordsman, his voice carrying the wisdom of someone who had spent a lifetime seeking balance between the physical and the spiritual.

"In my homeland," Musashi continued, his gaze distant, "I wrote of the void—the nothingness that exists beyond understanding. To be a warrior is not merely to fight. It is to see the space where thought and action meet, where the self dissolves into its truest form. Without knowing this, one cannot wield any weapon with mastery."

Arthur nodded, intrigued by the way Musashi spoke of the void. He had read about the concept in books on meditation, but here it took on a deeper meaning. "The void," Arthur repeated quietly. "So, it's about… understanding myself before understanding my skill?"

Musashi's lips curved into a small, approving smile. "Exactly. I wrote in the Book of Five Rings that one must understand the self before understanding others—and that without knowing others, one cannot truly know oneself. Every strike, every stance begins in the mind, the spirit. And from there, it must flow into the body."

Musashi took a step forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, though he didn't draw it. "Your body and soul, Arthur… they are just beginning to know each other. The strength you possess now—these are tools, but they are not yet a part of you. Not fully." He paused, his gaze softening, almost empathetic. "Tell me, Arthur. Have you been having troubled dreams?"

Arthur hesitated but nodded, feeling the truth of Musashi's words. "Yes… they're there, almost every night. Vague but unsettling, like pieces of something I can't quite grasp."

Musashi gave a small nod, as if expecting this. "When the spirit is unsettled, the body reacts. This is a sign that your soul and body are still learning to align. And without alignment, true mastery is impossible."

Arthur felt a twinge of understanding but struggled to articulate it. "So, these dreams are… a way of my body trying to communicate with me?"

"Precisely," Musashi said with a glint of approval in his eyes. "And for your journey to begin properly, you must start by quieting these disturbances within. You must study yourself as much as any opponent. Consider this: when you face another in battle, the only way to gain true victory is by knowing them fully—their strengths, weaknesses, their intent. This holds for oneself, too."

Arthur listened closely, his mind opening to Musashi's words. It felt as though a deep calm had settled over him, and in that quiet, his understanding sharpened. Musashi's philosophy was not about brute force or skill alone. It was about reflection and perception, about seeing the world—and himself—as they truly were.

"Sit," Musashi instructed, gesturing to the mat. Arthur obeyed, settling cross-legged on the ground, and Musashi followed suit, his gaze steady and serene.

"Close your eyes," Musashi said softly, his tone guiding but firm. "Focus on your breath and let your thoughts come and go. Observe them as they arise, but do not hold onto them. Allow yourself to drift, to let go of your attachments to these fleeting thoughts."

Arthur took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He let his mind settle, releasing the distractions and uncertainties that had followed him since entering Avalon. A sense of quiet began to fill him, like a vast, endless space—a taste of the void that Musashi had spoken of.

As he let himself drift, Arthur felt an awareness of his body begin to rise. The stamina and reflexes he had inherited, the memories of his past experiences, and the fragments of troubled dreams—they all swirled together, but in this quiet space, they seemed more cohesive. Instead of scattered pieces, he sensed a harmony beginning to emerge.

Through the silence, Musashi's voice came, low and steady. "True mastery, Arthur, does not come from strength alone. It comes from the alignment of your body, your soul, and your mind. The void is not empty; it is filled with potential, waiting for you to shape it."

As Arthur continued to meditate, he felt a subtle shift within him, the quiet void within him began to ripple. The stillness gave way to movement, as if the very fabric of his thoughts was reshaping itself. Shadows shifted and coalesced into shapes, and soon he was no longer in the Martial Hall.

Instead, he stood in the midst of a fragmented memory, viewing it not as himself but as a third-party observer. The image sharpened—it was a scene from his childhood, one he had tried to bury but could never quite forget.

His father stood in the center of the room, yelling at a younger version of Arthur. The man's voice was sharp, filled with anger and blame, his words cutting into the small boy who stood silently, fists clenched but helpless.

Arthur wanted to move, to speak, but no sound came from his lips. As he struggled against the silence, he felt a presence beside him. Turning, he saw his new body—the one he now inhabited in Avalon—standing there, watching the scene with a quiet intensity.

The body gestured toward the angry man and asked in a calm, measured voice, "Do you hate him?"

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came. He tried again, the weight of the question pressing against him. The words wouldn't come, and as he struggled, the scene began to dissolve.

The memory faded, replaced by a stark, sterile hospital. The hum of machines and the faint beeping of monitors filled the air as the new scene formed around him. Arthur recognized it instantly—the day his mother was in surgery. He and his father had been waiting in the corridor, the tension between them heavy but unspoken.

The surgery room came into view, and Arthur watched as the younger version of himself stared at the closed double doors, his small frame rigid with fear. The Arthur of now, standing in the void, moved through the memory alongside his new body, the two of them walking as silent observers.

They stopped near the younger Arthur, and his body gestured toward the boy's mother, visible through a window into the operating room. "Do you love her?" the body asked, its voice calm but weighted with meaning.

Arthur felt a lump in his throat, the answer as clear as the pain he felt even now. He tried to speak, to tell the truth of how much he had loved her, but no sound came.

The scene shifted abruptly. The double doors opened, and the doctor stepped out, his face grim as he approached the younger Arthur and his father. Though Arthur already knew the outcome, watching the moment unfold again tore at him. The doctor spoke, delivering the news that would change their lives forever.

Arthur clenched his fists, desperate to respond to the question, to speak out against the pain and helplessness of that day, but still, no sound escaped him.

Before the scene could shift again, Musashi's voice cut through the haze, strong and grounding. "It's enough for now, Arthur. The void is not a place to dwell on everything at once. You'll return here, in time. For now, let us focus on the physical—the blade teaches patience, too."

The memories dissipated, the scene fading like smoke as Arthur's mind returned to the Martial Hall. The air was still, the faint scent of cherry blossoms grounding him as he opened his eyes. Musashi stood nearby, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, watching Arthur with an expression of calm assurance.

Arthur exhaled, his chest heavy from what he had seen but also lighter in some strange, inexplicable way. He rose to his feet, nodding to Musashi.

"Come," Musashi said, turning toward an open sparring space. "You've begun to understand the void within. Now, let us see if you can channel it into the sword."

Arthur followed him, his mind still buzzing with the fragments of memory but ready to move forward. Musashi led him to the center of the space, drawing his katana in one fluid motion.

"The sword," Musashi began, his voice steady, "teaches you to act without hesitation, to strike with clarity of purpose. Let us begin with the basics—stance, balance, and motion. When the void within you aligns with your blade, only then will it become an extension of yourself."

Arthur drew his training blade, standing across from Musashi. His earlier trance had left him raw but focused, and as they began to move, he found himself stepping into the rhythm of Musashi's teachings. With each motion, the echoes of the void within him faded, leaving only the now—a focus sharpened by the edge of the blade.