A daring theory

A man from Tully had in his home a young man who instructed his children in the elements of knowledge.

After a long stay, the young tutor felt himself so much at home that he had in turn the housemaid, the nurse, and finally the mistress herself.

When the master of the house, who was a jovial fellow discovered this, he summoned the young man to his private chamber and said:

"I find it unmannerly of you, sir, that in taking your pleasure of my entire household you have made an exception of me."

Drunken laughter was the only answer I got after telling my joke.

I didn't feel like babysitting Bran for the whole day so after the Starks got tired of sword training, I dragged the boys to the nearest tavern and got them all drunk.

Bran was already asleep, and I think Robb would follow him soon after .

Only Jon seemed better of , but he was also talking by himself.

"You know, Joffrey, for all your flaws and your... princely airs, you're not that bad of a guy.

Maybe I've misjudged you... *hiccup*... a bit. I mean, we're all just trying to find our way in this crazy world, right?

Jon swayed a little, his words slurring, and he collapsed onto a nearby bench.

His eyes closed, and he was soon snoring softly, completely passed out from the alcohol.

Huh , maybe he was more affected than I thought.

Eh , whatever.

I grabbed the nine year old Stark like a sack of potatoes and exited the pub after paying for our consumption.

Just making sure the little non-cripple doesn't decide to climb something while drunk and changes his namesake.

I dropped the boy to the first maid I found around the castle, with orders to bring him back to his room and not let him out till tomorrow morning in case he wakes up , for his own protection of course.

If I still find out that SOMEHOW Jaime still crippled Bran , I'm cutting off his manhood and that's not even a joke.

I've wasted precious hours taking care of the kid...

.

When I reached the Training Grounds again , the sun was nearing the horizon, casting long shadows and painting the sky with hues of warm gold and dusky orange as it approached its imminent descent.

'Ah...how poetic...' I thought as I swung my sword towards my teacher.

There was no need for words , he knew I wanted to spar from the way I carried myself , and from the training sword in my hand.

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Third person Pov :

Joffrey and his teacher faced off in a whirlwind of steel, their swords flashing in the fading sunlight.

The rhythm of their strikes and parries created a mesmerizing dance of combat.

Joffrey lunged forward, his blade aimed for Barristan's chest, but the seasoned knight smoothly sidestepped, his own blade sweeping low to catch Joffrey off balance.

Joffrey recovered quickly, his sword blocking Barristan's strike just in time.

He followed up with a quick feint, aiming for Barristan's left shoulder, only to switch direction at the last moment and strike at his right side. Barristan's blade met Joffrey's with a resounding clash, his movements fluid and economical.

As they continued to spar, Joffrey's attacks became more aggressive, his determination evident in every move.

He swung his sword in an overhead arc, attempting to break Barristan's defense, but the knight parried effortlessly, his own counterstrike aimed at Joffrey's exposed flank.

Joffrey spun on his heel, narrowly avoiding the strike and countering with a swift jab to Barristan's midsection.

Barristan's lips curled into a faint smile, a sign of approval for Joffrey's improvement.

He launched a series of rapid strikes, forcing Joffrey to rely on quick footwork and precise parries to defend himself. Joffrey's breath came in quick pants, his focus unwavering as he met Barristan's onslaught.

The spar continued, the clashing of swords punctuated by grunts and the occasional exchange of words.

Joffrey's determination burned bright, but Barristan's experience shone through in his every move. It was a battle of skill, of will, and of the desire to become stronger. And in the midst of it all, Joffrey....no....Negary was learning, growing, and inching closer to what he aspired to become.

Barristan Selmy watched with a mixture of surprise and admiration as Joffrey displayed an astonishing leap in skill on the training grounds.

It was as if the young prince had absorbed years of swordsmanship knowledge in just a matter of nights.

The way he moved, the precision of his strikes, and the fluidity of his footwork were all far beyond what Barristan had expected.

But what truly caught the old knight off guard was the sheer strength behind Joffrey's blows. His wiry frame belied the force with which he swung his sword, each strike resonating with power that seemed to come from a place deeper than his physical stature suggested.

It was a raw and primal strength, one that could not be trained, only harnessed.

As their blades clashed and sparks flew, Barristan also couldn't ignore the intensity in Joffrey's eyes.

It was a look that Barristan had seen before, but rarely in someone so young and relatively inexperienced.

It was the gaze of a soldier who had faced true danger, who had stared death in the face and lived to tell the tale. It was a gaze that had witnessed the horrors of battle and had emerged with a hardened resolve.

In that moment, Barristan realized that there was more to Joffrey than met the eye.

The transformation he had witnessed was not just in skill, but in spirit. Joffrey was no longer a petulant prince seeking to prove his worth.

He was becoming a warrior, a leader, and Barristan felt a mix of pride and concern for the path that lay ahead of the young prince.

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Negary Pov :

I didn't hide my newly acquired skills from Barristan, nor did I hide my 20% hysterical strength boost.

There was no shortage of talented swordsmen around , and king Robert , my ,,father,, was said to possess the strength of a gigant in his youth , wielding a warhammer (that Lord Stark could barely lift) with ease , so I was still well within the ,,genius,, range , far away from the ,,monstrous,, category.

As we fought, I thought about my body and my theories.

I was practically an undead.

I didn't need to breathe (but I still did for obvious reasons), drink , eat and sleep .

I was immune to alcohol, and probably any type of poison.

My regeneration factor was strengthened along with my soul , something I knew because a scratch I made on my leg in the morning had already disappeared.

.

I can't say I used to know everything about how the human body works but I had a solid idea.

In layman's terms...

.

The respiratory and digestive systems provided the necessary fuel for the body.

.

The circulatory system took the fuel to each part of the body to be broken down into energy.

.

The excretory system filtered the blood to clean it of the waste burning the fuel produced.

.

And the Nervous and Endocrine systems controlled the whole process, making it run smoothly.

.

And now nothing made sense anymore.

.

My soul was playing the role of my nervous system, so I didn't doubt that I would still be able to move even if someone stabbed me in the head.

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My soul energy was acting as fuel , that was sure , but I didn't know if my cells were still going through the same processes they usually went through.

.

I didn't have any microscope so I didn't even know if they went through mitosis making new copies of themselves before they died.

.

I didn't even know if they died anymore.

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My hormones were not working as they were supposed to .

.

I was not producing any waste.

.

I was also not sweating.

.

Biology was officially dead.

.

And I felt like with each hour , I had a better control of my body.

I felt it becoming an extension of my soul.

I felt like with enough time , I would be able to mold it just like I did with my soul.

The ,,why's,, and the ,,how's,, eluded me , but I had one leading theory , one that would explain the unholy changes my body was going through.

And that was....

.

Are you ready?

...

.....

....

...Magic...

Shocking, I know , I know , but hear me out.

What If the whole ,,altering reality,, abilities of soul energy, the ability to create miracles , the ability to wield magic....was based on intent?

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And I don't meant intent as in "I want a burito" but as in "I want that specific thing more than anything else in the whole fucking universe"

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True MOTHERFUCKING Intent

.

What if soul energy, the energy coming from the very essence of your being, responded most strongly to the desire coming also from your very essence.

The desire that defined you.

That shaped you.

That made you who. You . Are.

.

I might have been wrong , but I thought it made sense.

Because what I truly wanted , more than anything and everything else...was improvement.

My personal improvement, to be specific.

Sure , I had many goals .

Strengthening my soul , learning magic , swordsmanship, stealing skills , forging alliances , making backup plans for any situation , yada yada yada .

But they all had one common theme.

Improvement.

Getting better

Stronger

Faster

.

And that's exactly what was happening with my body , each and every second , as my residual soul energy fueled it.

I felt my strength growing , my movements growing smoother , and I could even bear the strain of hysterical strength much more easily.

.

Kind of goosebumps inducing huh?

.

Well , I might have been wrong, which was becoming less and less likely as the evidence keep piling up.

Like why can't I make a blazing inferno with a snap of my fingers.

It would be cool , sure , and I was getting better and better at making sparks , but my subconscious didn't atribute that blazing inferno to my personal growth.

Because it wasn't ,,me,, , it was an effect I produced.

And this was a problem.

A problem I was planning to remedy as fast as possible.

Because if I was right, I had just found another one of the keys to improving my magic.

.

Manipulating and shaping my own subconscious to correspond to how I wanted to change the world around me in that very moment...

And then...

With enough soul power...

.

Reality would be whatever I want.

*Smack*

"Pay attention! You can't afford to be distracted in a sword fight!" I heard an old man angrily yelling at me.

"Ah , yes! I'm sorry , teacher! It won't happen again!"

Fucking annoying master swordsman...

And so my lesson continued.

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A.N :

"Finally...a well-deserved rest.

Not that I would be resting,of course

There was no rest for the wicked and those assholes had enough advantages without outworking me.

I'd spend my time working, as per usual."

- Jaune Arc - The Games We Play