Traves rushed down the hill. He stumbled and ended up rolling down it. The battle had cost him dearly. His wounded legs couldn’t hold him. His bruised right eye could barely see. His cracked, splintered staff rolled out of his broken right hand. However, even caked in mud, not to mention his own and someone else’s blood, Traves still kept crawling toward a small house on the outskirts of the village.
He saw that soldiers had surrounded it. Some of them laughed, some looked broken and depressed, as if they were burning their own houses down. They were just following orders...
Those who were laughing broke into the house. They dragged a man who was fighting them desperately, a woman, and three little boys into the street. The triplets were almost babies.
Hearing their cries, Hadjar almost lost consciousness. Scenes from the past flickered before his eyes: the dishonestly taken and burned city. The female General spitting in his face before her death. “You have no honor, Mad General! You have no honor!”
Traves, unable to scream or cry out, held out his hand to his family.
First, the soldiers executed the man. His head flew up into the sky, and then, after tracing a wide arc, fell to the ground and rolled across it.
The woman tried to shield the children, but the soldiers grabbed them and threw them into a cage on a cart, where dozens of children were already choking on their tears.
Before a blade pierced the woman’s chest, she turned toward the hill. Her golden eyes met Traves’ amber ones. She smiled and her lips whispered, “Sorry”.
Traves waved his hand and the vision disappeared. They were back to sitting at the top of the mountain peak, and the dragon was once more dancing in the sky behind them.
“That’s enough for now,” Traves said heavily. “Are you ready, my disciple? My shadow will show you no mercy because, back then, I didn’t show mercy to anyone either.”
Hadjar got up, turned to the colossus dancing in the clouds, and drew his sword. He gripped it tightly, like a bug armed with a toothpick that was trying to topple a giant’s body.
“So be it,” Traves nodded and waved his hand.
He disappeared. The huge dragon flew toward the mountain peak. Furious, surrounded by blue lightning, it opened its gaping maw.
The stones cracked under Hadjar’s feet. The wind turned into a storm. The sky turned black, bringing down hail, rain, and thunder.
Hadjar stared at his target and held his blade tightly. His heartbeat was slow and steady. He didn’t care who or what got in his way. He didn’t care what was possible and what wasn’t. As long as he had a sword in his hands, nothing would slow his progress.
With an inhuman roar, Hadjar swung.
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The attack didn’t even hit his enemy. It simply disappeared, crushed by an echo of the monster’s energy.
The enormous dragon raged in the sky. Dozens of lightning bolts streaked out from its claws. They blurred through the air. Like molten blades, they pierced the stones of the mountain peak. They cut through them, covering the slopes in lava.
Hadjar held his sword out in front of him and turned the flat side toward the dragon. He summoned the energy accumulated within his soul and body. Compared to Traves’ immense power, it looked like the memory of a flash. Even then, his effort was still enough for him to try and become a little stronger.
“Calm Wind!” Hadjar shouted.
Mountain Wind, his new sword, responded to its owner’s call. This wasn’t like Ignes’ spell, rather, it was something quieter, calmer somehow.
The lightning, as it struck the veil of wind, slowed down slightly. Hadjar danced between the lightning bolts, deflecting them with his blade. His blue eyes shone in the endless flashes and reflections. The sword in Hadjar’s hands glowed. The bolts of destructive power slid off it, cutting the stones further and covering the mountain in even more lava.
Hadjar had to constantly move to avoid stepping on molten puddles. He fought at the very limit of his speed. Hadjar’s silhouette sometimes appeared to turn into a shadow of the Five Ravens. However, despite his efforts, his simple robes kept getting scorched, and hissing burns were starting to appear across his arms and shoulders.
Gritting his teeth and enduring the pain, Hadjar fought against the lightning. The dragon hadn’t even approached its enemy. It was flying around no less than a dozen miles away and growing larger by the second, until its shadow engulfed the sky and white clouds. The lightning disappeared as Hadjar froze, unable to move.
The mountain shook as the massive dragon’s claws ripped into it like the carcass of a frightened animal. The huge muzzle slowly rose above Hadjar. It was larger than the mountain peak. Traves’ mustache looked like thick ropes, the kind sailors used. With their might alone, it could’ve crushed the little man. Its two amber eyes shone with reflected sunlight. The pressure of its energy was so great that the stones crumbled and the solidifying lava cracked.
Hadjar trembled. His knees bent and his sword shook in his grip. Bloody tears flowed from his eyes, not from fear or pain, but from the sheer pressure that had burst the blood vessels there. His blue eyes drowned in the scarlet flow.
The gigantic dragon loomed over the little man. Their eyes met.
The abyss that was its mouth opened, its forked tongue flickered out, and the mountain shook violently from its powerful roar. The clouds around the peak scattered in different directions. Hadjar turned pale. Blood was now pouring not only from his eyes, but from his ears and nose as well. And yet, he didn’t lower his sword. Trembling, he raised it higher, and gradually, resisting the incredible pressure, began to assume a fighting stance.
“You’re worthy,” came the thundering proclamation.
The dragon’s form flickered. It turned into a blue mist that spun and then began to coalesce into an incredibly small dot. It condensed and swirled until the silhouette of a tall man stepped out of it.
He looked a little different from the man Hadjar usually spoke to in his dreams. He wasn’t calm, but fierce. His face was tense. His tight clothes looked like armor. His high boots looked like they were meant for stomping.
Traves-from-the-past held an iron staff that had rings through its top.
“Every adversary, even the weakest one, is a test,” his voice thundered.
With these words, he pushed off the ground. There was an almost tangible explosion as he did so. The crushed stones filled the air with deadly shrapnel, and Traves moved at such an incredible speed that Hadjar didn’t even manage to comprehend what was happening.
Fortunately, his instincts, developed over many years fighting in a war, were faster than his mind. Still holding his sword with the flat side facing his foe, Hadjar assumed the ‘Calm Wind’ stance. It slowed his attacker down as effectively as a sheet of paper trying to stop a cannonball. However, thanks to the wind barrier, Hadjar determined which direction the blow was coming from.
Tearing his muscles and using all his energy, fighting through the pain and lacerations that were spreading down his torso and arms, Hadjar blocked the strike.
There was a clink as the blow split several small boulders around them. Mountain Wind bent, and that was the only thing that saved Hadjar’s ribs. The oddly flexible iron softened the blow, but, upon straightening, pushed Hadjar away from the mountain peak. At the same time, due to inertia and the force of the blow, Hadjar was lifted into the air and, after being flung a dozen yards away, fell onto a white carpet. Except there was no carpet around.
Falling through the clouds, Hadjar frantically tried to breathe. The air whistled past. Through the wet and cold, white ‘wool’, Hadjar fell from the tall mountain directly toward the ground. His eyes were watering and it was hard for him to see, but judging by the incredible pressure, Hadjar knew that Traves was following him.
The air and sky were the dragon’s domain. As for Hadjar... When, upon emerging from the clouds, he’d seen his surroundings, he’d almost lost consciousness — from such a height, huge mountains had seemed lik
e hills, rivers had looked like little streams, and forests like nothing more than tall grass.
Hadjar’s instincts howled again and, with difficulty, he rolled onto his back. Traves’ fall was more like vertical flight. Through the whistling and the roar of the wind, his staff sticking out in front of him, he looked more like a spearman plunging down into a vicious attack than anything else.
Having caught up with Hadjar, Traves deftly turned around and struck him. With his sword still held in front of him, Hadjar blocked another powerful blow that changed the direction of his fall. He was swept away, leaving drops of blood behind. Hadjar continued to fall, but not Traves. The air under his feet seemed to thicken and the dragon, still in his human form, simply pushed off from the wind. After two more similar jumps, he approached Hadjar and hit him again, twice.
What happened next was just a beating, not a fight. Hadjar was launched in different directions like a ball as Traves batted him about, all the while gliding through the air. Each attack he landed sapped energy from Hadjar’s body. The Strengthening of the Body Techniques and grueling blocks were keeping Hadjar alive, but it was still draining and dicey.
The earth and sky swapped places constantly. Hadjar no longer bothered with trying to determine where he was. He simply flew through the roar of the air currents, using moments between the strikes to breathe.
Sensing where the next blow was coming from, Hadjar managed to dodge. He wondered whether this had been simple inspiration or a tip from the wind laughing in his hair. Hadjar, after gathering energy in his legs, was able to briefly assume a vertical position and even slightly change the direction of his fall. That was enough to allow him to dodge Traves’ direct attack. Hadjar was still thrown back by the wave of energy in the attack’s aftermath, but that hadn’t been as painful as the previous strikes.
“Kai-ah!” Came from the sky above them.
Out of the corner of his eye, Hadjar saw strange creatures floating in the sky. They looked like huge stingrays covered with long feathers instead of scales and skin. A half-mad smile appeared on Hadjar’s lips.
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Hadjar waited for Traves’ next move. This time, he was ready to use the dragon’s attack to his advantage. When a powerful blow from Traves’ staff hit the exact center of his sword, Hadjar used it to gain momentum.
As a result, instead of flying off like a limp rag, he soared a few yards through the air, and then pushed off it. His midair spasms didn’t look like Traves’ smooth, graceful movements, but rather like the flopping of a fish caught in a net. Hadjar didn’t care about what it looked like, he was more interested in the results.
Using the inertia he’d harnessed and his own movements afterward, Hadjar changed his trajectory and landed gently on the back of one of the flying stingrays. The huge beast didn’t even feel the new weight on its back. Its wingspan was so great that it could’ve easily covered a horse-drawn cart entirely.
An approving smile appeared on Traves’ face. Without wasting any time, he also landed on a nearby stingray. They sailed through the skies.
Hadjar took up a low stance and turned to his inner, black sword. He mentally attached it to Mountain Wind, which he held in his hands, and launched a single, swift attack. A blue crescent interspersed with black sparks flew out of his blade. After flying for about twenty paces, it struck Traves. Such a strike, given all the progress Hadjar had made in recent months, could’ve injured a careless Heaven Soldier.
Traves just put his index finger in front of it. The mighty attack seemed to bend around it like silk and disappeared.
“Spring Wind!” Hadjar shouted, assuming the third stance of the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique.
He summoned more energy and used even more complex and deeper knowledge of the Way of the Sword. This time, his thunderous strike caused a dull roar to fill the air. It was much sharper and noticeably more tangible. Inside the blue crescent, black sparks clustered, trying to take the form of a dragon. A ghostly blade could be seen in the center of the attack — an exact copy of Mountain Wind.
This was the best Hadjar could muster without using absolutely all of his energy. At first, Traves once again held his finger up in front of him. But the closer the crescent got, the more distinctly the sparks looked like a dragon, the clearer the emotions on the dragon’s face became.
At first, it was doubt, then surprise, and then... interest.
Putting his hand away, Traves moved his staff in front of him. Hadjar’s best strike, which would’ve been capable of splitting artifact armor up to the Earth level in half, couldn’t even make it move.
After he moved his staff so it was once more behind his back, Traves held out his hand again. He gestured with it and remained standing on the stingray’s back as it flew beneath the clouds. After that battle in the air, Hadjar didn’t have much energy left. He would probably be able to fight for just a couple more minutes, but he was going to use them to their fullest nonetheless.
Once again, an insane, almost drunken smile appeared on his face. He hadn’t fought an enemy against whom he had no chance of winning for a long time.
Turning toward the black sword, Hadjar didn’t just overlay it with Mountain Wind, but completely merged them together. The blade shone with a dark light for a moment and unknown hieroglyphs flared along its length, but everything soon settled. Wisps of black fog were now wafting off the blade.
Hadjar pushed off the stingray and landed on the back of another beast. He was wounded and bleeding, but didn’t even think about giving up. Hadjar stood opposite Traves. As always, he had a plan. Some might’ve even called the plan mad.
Gripping his blade in both hands, Hadjar moved toward his enemy. Angling the blade over his head, Hadjar made a strong downward slash. Traves lazily moved his staff in front of him. He was surprised when his foe’s sword seemed to change direction mid-attack, leaving behind a trail of dark fog.
Hadjar, growling with the strain and at his limit, accelerated even further and twisted his wrist. Instead of a downward attack, Mountain Wind ended up being swung in a diagonal slash from right to left.
The sword seemed to slip past the staff with an eerie, fluid grace, immediately getting dangerously close to the enemy’s chest. Despite all his experience and power, Traves didn’t have time to react. He hadn’t taken the little bug that had decided he could bite a giant seriously and this was the result.
The blade slashed across Traves’ clothes...
Hadjar didn’t waste his chance. Forcing the blade’s motion to continue, he turned on his heels. Using his whole body, he slashed at Traves’ stomach.
The inertia forced his body forward and Hadjar didn’t resist it. On the contrary, he decided to use it as another tool. Doing a complete spin, Hadjar again gripped his blade at a different angle. He held the weapon more traditionally as he swung it upward.
The sword, which had previously been somewhere near his foe’s knees, soared like a ribbon across Traves’ torso. Simple practitioners would’ve seen only the crimson ribbon and the black trail left by the blade.
The three strikes merged together. It was the best attack Hadjar had ever performed. Fast and deceptive like the wind, it struck its target with all the power he could muster. ‘The Black Gates’ sect Patriarch would’ve been turned into mincemeat by it. Shakar would’ve received severe, maybe even fatal, wounds. Sheikh Umar would have gotten away with deep, painful cuts. Traves stood unharmed. Not even a single thread on his clothes had been disturbed.
It had only seemed to Hadjar like his strikes had hit their mark. In fact, they hadn’t even touched his foe’s clothes. They’d passed half an inch from them, as Mountain Wind hadn’t been able to break through the strong layer of energy that Traves emanated. The dragon sighed with disappointment, and at that moment, Hadjar smiled widely.
When his enemy let his guard down for a moment, Hadjar jumped on Traves. He
hugged the dragon as tightly as if he were one of his most beloved people. Together, they fl
ew off the stingray’s back.
Traves didn’t understand what was happening. Hadjar had decided to check a crazy conjecture, and it was turning out to be true. He wasn’t clutching the dragon’s energy shield, but his clothes. That meant that this world was illusory, but abided by the laws of reality. Traves’ energy couldn’t protect him from himself...
Putting his left hand between Traves’ shoulder blades, Hadjar brought his blade up and forcefully thrust it into his own hand. A human’s scream and a dragon’s roar shook the sky. The pink blood, interspersed with red blood, soared through the air like a multicolored ribbon. Two entities fell to the ground: a mad human and a creature that gradually began changing into an angry dragon.
“Damn,” Hadjar cursed, realizing that the hand he’d pierced with his own sword was no longer sitting atop clothes, but large scales instead.
He didn’t know that, at that very moment in reality, Einen was also fighting his own particular battle, trying to decide what to do.
The islander sat in front of his friend and worried. He didn’t know whether he should interrupt Hadjar’s fight with his Beast and spare the northerner from all the torment or not. What was happening right now didn’t look like a normal rite of acceptance of one’s Inheritance at all. The two men sat in the center of a riot of energy. It circled them like a huge tornado inside which the blurry silhouettes of a man and dragon fighting could be discerned. Einen had never seen anything like it before. By the Great Turtle, his heart was gripped with fear as he observed it all.
“Damned barbarian!” Einen tightened his grip on his staff-spear, hoping that no one would notice what was happening because they were too busy celebrating.
He didn’t know that they were being watched from atop the oasis. Ignes, clutching Hadjar’s frozen drops of blood, was praying for the first time in a long time. To the Gods, the World River, Mother Nature, the Ancient Spirits, all of them at once and more besides. She was ready to prostrate herself before anyone if it ensured the descendant of the Black General would die right here and now.
Dragon Heart: Sea of Sand. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 4 Page 25