by Aaron Oster
Hermit nodded, turning to look at the blank wall of the room they were in. Duncan knew where he was really looking — to the gathered presence of the enemy Scions, who would be moving to the appointed place in just a couple of minutes.
“Here’s to hoping this works,” Duncan said with a loud sigh. “Otherwise, this war is all but lost.”
“We are prepared to offer fair terms if you surrender right now. Otherwise, we’ll be far less amenable.”
Mororna began to speak as soon as the two of them appeared above the battlefield where the Sovereigns had fought, seeming eager to get the proceedings over and done with.
“I don’t think we’re ready to give up the fight just yet,” Duncan said.
Mororna’s leonine face scrunched up, his eyes narrowing and fangs showing. To either side of him, both Raia and Nam tensed as though preparing for a fight.
“Instead,” Duncan continued, “I would like to make a counteroffer.”
“I do not think you’re in the position to negotiate —” Mororna began, only for Duncan to cut him off.
“A contest of champions. One to determine the outcome of this war. If you win, we will surrender and put ourselves at your mercy. But if we win, you agree to leave and never come back.”
“And why would we agree to something like that?” Mororna asked with a sneer. “You’re already on the losing side. What could we possibly stand to gain if we win, that we can’t already accomplish on our own?”
Duncan and Hermit had prepared for this. What they were about to propose was extremely risky, but if their gamble paid off, their side might just make it through this alive.
“If we lose,” Duncan said, “then the two of us will willingly join your side.”
Now this gave Mororna pause, his eyes narrowing a bit further as he examined the two of them. Duncan already knew he would accept; the offer was too good to pass up. Human or not, having an additional two Scions on their side — especially those who would otherwise oppose them — would make conquering the continent easy.
Even if all four of the other Scions decided to oppose them, they would still come out on top.
“What sort of contest do you have in mind?” Mororna finally asked.
Hermit stepped forward and began laying out the rules of the competition, the ones that had been recommended as most likely to succeed.
“Each side will enter three teams of five. The fighters will be in the Red-Belt stages of advancement only. They will compete in a series of events, to be decided upon closer to each event so as not to give either side an advantage. Killing will be prohibited, of course, and victors will be declared by an impartial judge, one that both sides can agree on. The competition will begin in six months so that our fighters have time to prepare.”
Mororna, Raia, and Nam all burst out laughing at that, as though they found the proposal hilarious. But, when Mororna began speaking, it wasn’t to completely shoot the idea down.
“Sixteen Gold-Belts, eight from either side, to fight in single-elimination matches, until a victor is declared. Killing will not only be allowed, but encouraged, with the victors claiming great prizes and spoils from the losing side. The competition will begin next week. We can agree to an impartial judge.”
Though Duncan kept a neutral expression on his face, he couldn’t help but cringe inwardly. He’d been expecting a counteroffer, but nothing this bad. There was no way they would be able to call up eight Gold-Belts that were competent enough to take out whoever the enemy planned to throw at them.
“Your idea seems to heavily favor brute strength and power. In one-on-one matches, we would be at an obvious disadvantage. How about instead…”
The negotiations continued for another two hours, both sides pushing to favor their fighters while trying to maneuver the enemy into accepting worse terms for their own. Finally, after bickering back and forth, tweaking things that even a White-Belt might consider inconsequential, they came to an agreement.
“In two months’ time, we will gather for the first of four events,” Hermit said. “Each will be decided by the impartial judge. Both sides will have three teams of five, ranked from 2nd to 8th Dan Red-Belt at the start. Advancements during the competition will be allowed. At the end of the four events, if there is an even draw, the top two teams will be split up into one-on-one matches, with the majority of wins deciding the outcome. Finally, killing will be allowed, and substitutes will not be.”
This last point had been one that the Beasts had been unwilling to budge on. It would make the competition that much more dangerous. Then again, if they lost, the competition would be the least of their problems.
The fact that substituting dead fighters wouldn’t be allowed also meant that at least one of the Beast teams would be made up of fighters who were all going to specifically target their own to try and knock them out. After all, if you killed off all of the competitors, you would win by default.
They would have to find a judge who could discourage actively hunting down and killing enemy competitors, if only by the types of challenges they would pose to the teams competing.
“Agreed,” Mororna said as the other two Scions nodded along with him. “But as previously discussed, my fighters will not simply battle for no gain.”
“The winning team of each part of the competition will receive some sort of reward from the opposing side,” Duncan said, though it clearly grated on him to do so. “And to make sure the reward is appropriate, the judge will examine our offer before each stage of the competition.”
“Then I suppose the only thing left to do is find the judge,” Mororna said, examining one of his claws.
“We have two months to find someone we can both agree on,” Hermit said. “Let us meet back here in a week’s time to present our candidates. If there is someone we can both agree on, then we no longer need to meet until the start of the competition. And if not, then we will continue meeting until we find someone agreeable.”
“One caveat,” Mororna said. “So that you don’t try and extend your timeline past the two-month start time, if there is still no judge by the start of the competition, we will choose the judge if you refuse a worthy candidate.”
“So long as we reserve the right to do the same,” Hermit said, meeting the Beast’s eyes evenly.
“Agreed,” Mororna said.
“Then on my Ideal, as the Scion of Honor, I swear to abide by the terms agreed upon by both parties,” Hermit said, feeling a tightness in his Core, one that constricted as he spoke the words, binding him to his oath.
“On my Ideal as the Scion of Shattered Dreams, I swear to abide by the terms, as agreed upon by both parties,” Mororna repeated.
A stream of dark green light lanced out from the center of his chest as he spoke. A stream of light left Hermit’s at the same time, his colored a brilliant crimson. They met in the middle, intertwining small tendrils of both, streaming back into the other’s Core before the light vanished.
The agreement had been made. If either of them went back on their word, their Ideal would unmake them, all but erasing them from the world, both in body and spirit.
Hermit gave the enemy Scion the briefest of nods, before he and Duncan vanished, traveling back to Mountain Moore and their home base.
“We’ve bought ourselves a bit of time with that,” Duncan said as he took a seat in his throne. “But two months is hardly enough time.”
“Those training in the Darklands have twice that,” Hermit said, stretching his back and trying to rid himself of the constricting feeling on his Core. “In the morning, we’ll contact Kaeru. He’s too strong to enter, but Violet isn’t. She’ll need to continue to train to qualify, as will both Roy and Aika. I don’t know if they’ll manage it in time, but I have a feeling that Doragon will know what to do.”
“What about the rest?” Duncan asked. “We need to field another twelve, and don’t forget that the maximum entry stage is at 8th Dan. I wouldn’t be surprised if every single one of the en
emy fighters will be on the brink of advancement.”
“I don’t know about that,” Hermit said. “Remember, reaching Gold-Belt isn’t exactly easy, though I very much doubt we’ll see none.”
“Do we even have any 8th Dan Red-Belts?” Duncan asked.
“I think the Mizumi clan might have one,” Hermit replied. “And I’m pretty sure the Tokei and Sora clans should have a couple who are pretty close. Aside from that, I’m not sure.”
Duncan let out a long breath, rubbing at his temples.
“We’re going to need to call another meeting of the Sovereigns,” he finally said. “And you’re going to need to call your friend.”
Hermit’s lips quirked up a bit at the corners at that, though calling for Hana would likely be the most pleasant any of their meetings were going to be.
Regardless, they now had hope, a way to force the Ancient Beast back to its slumber without having to face it themselves. For that alone, Hermit was grateful.
35
Hana, the Scion of Tales, stepped through space, the swirling vortex of chaos closing behind her as she reentered Buryoku. The heat was the first thing that hit her, scorching to the point where anyone under Green-Belt wouldn’t be able to survive for more than a minute before being burned alive, and even those under Red-Belt might not survive for much longer than that.
The sky had a red and purple tint, courtesy of the drifting particles of light that cloaked this area as far as the eye could see. Below lay a landscape of dull, gray stone, interspersed with gleaming veins of metal. They varied in color, from an almost solid white to a gray so dark it was nearly black.
Several areas of the vein were lit up, glowing from a burning yellow to a searing white-hot, courtesy of the underground magma rivers that were so common in this area.
It wasn’t just the heat that made the Palladium Vein inhospitable to most people, but the clouds of poisonous gas that drifted low over the landscape. The glowing particles that gave the sky its unique color here weren’t just for show either. If they made contact with skin, they would immediately absorb into the person or Beast in question and begin attacking their Core.
Inside the small motes of light lived tiny organisms that would feast on the collected energy. It was why, while those with a Core-Body could survive the heat, those without a Perfect-Body wouldn’t be tough enough to repel the small leeches. Death wouldn’t be immediate, but it would follow soon after they left.
This was why Hana and the others had chosen this area for their meeting place. Because only those who had made it past Red would be able to survive here. It was desolate and devoid of all life, so any intrusion would be immediately felt.
She looked around as she appeared, noting that she was the first one to arrive. A slight frown touched her lips as she noticed that. She didn’t show any other signs of displeasure though, folding her legs beneath her and taking a seat on solid air some fifty feet off the ground.
While nothing here could hurt her, there was no need to waste energy — even if it were just a minuscule amount — to repel the landscape’s natural deterrents.
The Scion of Quaking Skies was the first to appear, though once again, he came as just a cloud of Reiki. No one had seen the old man since his battle with the Cavern Beast several centuries prior. He had taken some serious injuries in that fight, and Hana believed that he’d never truly recovered.
“It would appear that I am late,” his voice said, echoing from the dark gray cloud.
“No later than the others,” Hana replied, her voice even.
The Scions of Quaking Skies sounded old, which was something that Komura — who preferred the look of an aged man — didn’t allow to tinge his voice. It was a sign that despite the great power and immortality bestowed upon them, the Scion of Quaking Skies was dying. It was anyone’s guess as to how long that would take, but only an advancement would be able to save him now, and advancing past Base Black was something Hana doubted he could do, especially after the toll his battle had taken on him.
There was a flash of silver light, and a girl, appearing no older than ten, stepped through a rift in space, the hole sealing itself the moment she was clear. Her face seemed to glow with an otherworldly light, her bright sliver hair tumbling down to hang almost to her ankles, separated into twin tails.
She wore clothes that were, quite frankly, odd. A wide, puffed-out skirt stopped at her knees in the front but trailed to her ankles in the back. She wore a long-sleeved shirt as well, with a long, ruffled kerchief tucked into the front. A pair of black gloves covered her hands, matched by the same color boots.
Hana had never seen a style like this before meeting her, though she’d never cared to ask where it had come from. Perhaps the Scion’s clan had dressed this way and she’d kept the style. Hana honestly had no idea how long ago the Scion of Warping Silver had advanced to her position, but it had definitely been before Hana had been born.
“You’ve decided to make an appearance in person this time,” she noted, making sure to keep her voice neutral.
“I figured you would have something important to say,” the small girl replied, crossing her arms. “Unlike the old man, I can make an appearance for something like that.”
“I’m younger than you,” Quaking Skies said, his voice echoing from the cloud. “At least I don’t feel the need to pretend to be a child to hide it.”
“Why don’t you come here and say that to my face?” Warping Silver countered.
“Still fighting like children, I see.”
All three of them turned as Komura the Winged, the last of the Scions invited to this meeting, appeared from a rift of his own. He looked the same as ever, with his long white hair and beard trailing over a bare, well-muscled chest. He wore wide, billowing pants, and his feet were bare. The expression on his face wasn’t any different either, showing as a perfect mix of disdainful annoyance and indifference.
“At least we’re not savages,” Warping Silver said, narrowing her eyes at the man.
“Enough,” Hana said, stopping the argument before it could become too heated.
It was of the utmost importance to get to the matter at hand, and to beings like them, where time was basically meaningless, an argument could stretch out for weeks if allowed to be properly started.
“I know we agreed to meet here once you had a chance to speak with the new Scions,” Komura said, sitting down on a conjured green cloud. “But why did we have to meet here?”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it,” Warping Silver said. “In fact, I quite like it here.”
“Of course you would like it,” Quaking Skies said. “The area is perfect for your Path.”
Warping Silver rolled her eyes, the overly large silver orbs turning very exaggeratedly.
“Just because you prefer the appearance of a little girl doesn’t mean you need to act like one,” Quaking Skies snapped.
“It’s called staying in character!” she snapped back. “Something you can stand to learn!”
“This is very unbecoming of you,” Hana said. “All of you,” she added as Komura began to smirk. “You all know why this area was chosen. It’s far enough away that we can easily disguise our movements from the enemy and barren enough to detect if anyone tries to sneak in. We’re as safe as we can be from eavesdroppers.
“Now, unless you don’t want to know what’s going on, I would recommend remaining silent until I’ve finished recounting my tale. Only then will I answer pertinent questions. Can we agree on that?”
There was a moment of silence before Komura nodded, followed by Warping Silver, though she did so a bit more petulantly. Unable to nod himself, Quaking Skies gave a verbal confirmation, which was all Hana had been waiting for. She wasn’t called the Scion of Tales for no reason, and when she told a story, she liked to have absolute silence and no interruptions.
It took her well over an hour to explain the entire situation, including their only real way to avoid an all-out war with the
Ancient Cavern Beast. True to their word, the others remained silent throughout the telling of her story, only speaking once she was done.
“So what you’re saying is that our lives, and those of everyone on this continent, is dependent on how well a few Red-Belts perform?” Warping Silver asked, her childish voice containing more than a little displeasure.
“Yes,” Hana said, not bothering to try and sugarcoat their situation. “That’s exactly right.”
“And here I was, hoping for a good fight,” Komura muttered, looking quite disappointed.
“Did you really think you would stand a chance against any of the enemy Scions?” Quaking Skies asked, his voice laced with scorn.
“A better chance than you,” Komura replied.
“Can’t we renegotiate?” Warping Silver asked. “Maybe get them to consider taking Brown-Belts at the very least? Those, we can work with.”
“This is what was agreed upon,” Hana said calmly. “Which means it is up to us to find an additional five candidates worthy of entering.”
“Yeah, I’m not interested,” Warping Silver said. “Good luck with finding the weaklings and all, but I have better things to do.”
With that said, the air around her shivered, and a moment later, she vanished, traveling to the far side of the continent where she’d taken up residence over the past few decades.
Hana felt her lips tug downward, ever so slightly. Of the four of them, Warping Silver was the last she’d expected to help but had at least thought there might be some interest when their entire continent was at stake.
“Much as I hate to agree with her, my interests lie elsewhere,” Quaking Skies said.
His cloud of Reiki vanished a moment later, leaving her alone with Komura. The man didn’t even say anything, just giving her a shrug. The world warped around him, leaving Hana alone in the Palladium Vein, wondering why she’d even bothered to keep them updated.
She should have known better. Hell, the fact that her only real interest lay in the newly minted Scion of Honor should have told her how little interest the others would show. Had it not been for him, she’d likely have just left as well, going back to her own cultivation and continuing down her Path to ascension.