Chapter 32: Physique 2

"It's because all those who had this physique died."

The moment I heard this, I could not help but let my eyes widen as the shock and disbelief washed over me.

"They all died?" I echoed, my voice barely more than a whisper. "What are you talking about? How could a physique like that cause people to die?"

What kind of bullshit that this old man was talking about?

How could someone just die just because they have a physique? That was the first time I heard of such a thing.

In the first place, what was a physique anyway? I have heard that father mentioning this before, saying only the rarest people would be born with a physique and they would be talented under the heavens, but the details were not there.

So, how?

The old man's expression remained somber, his gaze unwavering. "The Physique of the Requiverse is extremely rare. Those who possess it have bodies that react differently to mana. Instead of absorbing and accumulating mana like others, their bodies repulse it."

"Repulse it?" I shook my head, still trying to process what he was saying. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would my body repulse mana?"

"It is a unique condition," the old man explained, his tone patient. "Your body cannot contain mana in the traditional sense. Instead, it uses mana in an entirely different way, one that most people do not understand and cannot control."

I frowned, frustration bubbling up inside me. "If this physique is so rare, then how do you know about it? Why should I believe any of this?"

The old man's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Why would I lie to you, boy? What would I gain from it? I have no reason to deceive you. In fact, understanding your condition could be the key to unlocking your true potential."

I narrowed my eyes, suspicion lingering. "How do I know you're not just making this up? This could all be some elaborate trick."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You have a right to be skeptical. But think about it. Have you ever met anyone else who struggled as you have with mana accumulation? Have you ever heard of another viscount's son who couldn't gather even a drop of mana despite rigorous training?"

I hesitated, his words striking a chord. It was true; I had always felt isolated in my struggle, and my inability to gather mana was a source of shame and frustration. No one else seemed to have the same issue, and I had always wondered why.

It was the same for my brother and for my sister.

They were both able to master the family's Mana Accumulation Art, [Serpent Flame Spear], yet that was not the case for me.

Even for a common grade Mana Accumulation Art, I was not able to gather any mana around my core at all.

"Then, what am I supposed to do? What should I do so that my physique can be effectively utilized?"

The old man's expression softened as he looked at me. "Why do you think all those who had this physique died and were never able to live?"

I repeated what he had just said. "Because their bodies react differently to mana."

The old man nodded. "Yes, but why is that the case?"

I struggled to find an answer, my mind racing. "Maybe the body is inherently different?"

The old man smiled approvingly. "It is something like that. The meridians through which mana flows in the body are all reversed for this body type."

I blinked, trying to comprehend what he was saying. "Reversed meridians? What does that mean?"

"It means that the pathways through which mana should flow are opposite to the norm," the old man explained. "In a normal body, mana flows through the meridians in a specific direction, nourishing the body and allowing for accumulation in the dantian. But in your case, the flow is reversed, repulsing the mana instead of absorbing it."

"So, what can I do about it?" I asked, feeling a mix of hope and fear.

"You must adapt to your unique constitution," the old man said. "Your training must focus on harmonizing with the reversed flow of your meridians."

"The reversed flow of my meridians? But just how? I have never felt what the meridians are like. So, how can I harmonize myself with the flow of my meridians?"

The moment I asked this, the old man smiled.

"There is only one way. You are going to become my disciple."

*************

For old people, what is the goal of life?

Or is there even a goal?

Some just wanted to die after seeing their grandchildren; some wanted to die after their spouse.

But none of them would matter at the end of the day when the inevitable came.

Being old, the old man kept thinking about all this. He had seen his fair share of the world, yet even he had not expected to find himself here, in this forsaken place, where life seemed to be perpetually on the edge of a blade.

At the very least, he thought that he would get a comfortable place.

This was supposed to be his final resting ground, a place to live out his remaining years in relative peace.

He had hoped for tranquility, a chance to lay back and reminisce about the days gone by, away from the chaos of the battlefield.

Yet, that did not seem to be the case, as he somehow ended up right here once again. Even after all that time, he was still in that damned place.

'Once again, this life….'

However, never once in his life had he thought he would find something like this in this place.

Here, in this remote corner of the world, he had found something unexpected. A boy struggling against the very essence of his being, fighting a battle that seemed insurmountable.

The boy's determination and frustration had struck a chord within the old man, reminding him of his younger self, full of fire and defiance.

That boy had something that many people who were sent here would have lost.

A good heart.

Not being able to ignore the misfortune that would befall other people. When those two young people were trying to exert his ratios and trying to forcefully take them, even if he was weaker, he did not stop.

Even if everyone in the whole camp went against him, even the Captain of the camp, that young kid did not stop.

There was a fire that was burning in his eyes.

The time they spent talking, the moments when he was recounting his old stories. They were strangely fun for the old man.

At the end of the day, slowly but strangely, the old man became fond of the young kid. Somehow, the kid's gentle and innocent heart was a fresh sight to see.

Yet, on the other hand, he also couldn't help but worry. In this place where death would become common, could such a child survive?

The old man's thoughts were interrupted by a sound. He turned and saw the young kid standing in the night, holding a spear. But something was different.

The answer to his question was there, painfully clear.

The child was dead, no longer alive in spirit.

The body stood, but the light in the eyes was gone.

What remained were the eyes of a forcefully grown-up, a person who had experienced the dark side of the world a second time. The eyes now held vengeance and hatred, but there was something else—desperation.

The movements that the boy was doing, each desperate to hold the pain inside.

Yet, there was something else—something that piqued the old man's interest. The way the boy moved, the way his body seemed to resist and yet flow with the spear's weight, hinted at a deeper truth.

The old man's eyes narrowed as he focused on the boy's stance, his breathing, and the subtle shifts in his posture. He had seen many fighters in his time, each with their unique styles and strengths, but this boy—this boy was different.

"Reverse Meridians," the old man murmured to himself, the realization dawning upon him.

When they had talked with the young man before, he had learned that he was the son of a viscount.

A Viscount Family named Thorne.

The young boy described his family as a family that had fought the war under the emperor and a family that guarded the border of the empire.

He had never heard of this family before, meaning it was not that famous around the world, but he was aware of how the noble society worked.

Normally, such kids tend to be nurtured at a young age, learning about their family's arts. And they would become successful almost all the time, as they shared the bloodline of their ancestors.

But the boy was not like that; he was unsuccessful.

And the old man could now see the reason why.

The boy had a unique condition. Sёarᴄh the nôᴠel Fire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The Physique of Requiverse.

The physique of the Stars.

A special body constitution that he had only read once in an archive and had never seen in real life.

Thus, that part was a lie when he said that.

However, aside from that, everything else was true. The fact that everyone who had this constitution died.

Of course, that was something that everyone in this world would always experience, so he hid something.

He hid the fact that those with this physique would not live past 25, and it was recorded in the book.

And he hid one another thing.

The fact that such a physique could only be attained if the parents also had it.

And both the boy's parents were past the age of 40.

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