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Land of Magic

Page 14

by Kirill Klevanski


  After enduring the wave of agony, Hadjar began to carefully examine the severed channel. With another effort of will, he brought the meridian closer to his ‘eyes’. It looked like he’d cut off the flow of a mighty river that was also a thread of yarn.

  In his childhood, Hadjar had often watched his mother sew various tapestries in her spare time. Whenever she’d suddenly realized that she needed to lengthen one of the strands, she had cut it in half, and then skillfully interweaved the missing part in the middle. Hadjar decided to do just that.

  He had to act quickly. Cut off from the general current of energy, the end of the channel was melting before his ‘eyes’. Hadjar drew in as much of the Primordial Water as possible. In the World River, he saw a tangle of bright blue energy threads appear, ready to be used.

  While Hadjar had had to imagine an energy needle when helping Glen, he now used only the force of his will. He wove a neat web that gradually connected the two parts of the torn channel together.

  Once he’d caught his breath after that very painful procedure (every probe of the channel had resulted in an explosion of hellish agony), Hadjar decided to check how much of the Primordial Water he’d spent on the experiment. It was about three and a half ounces. At the same time, the channel had been lengthened by only one millimeter. Taking this into account, he would need a whole pond of Primordial Water in order to make significant changes to his body!

  “Was it worth it?” Hadjar asked aloud.

  Deciding to test how useful this change was, Hadjar let the energy from his core flow into his hand. He watched several spheres of blue-black steel separate from the center of his energy body and head for his left hand.

  “Come on, come on, come on.” Hadjar urged, watching the one that was moving toward his little finger.

  After a split-second of nerve-wracking tension, Hadjar slammed his fist against the floor in frustration.

  “I’m an idiot.” He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “If the channel is longer, then the energy will obviously take longer to travel along it.”

  It seemed like Hadjar had achieved the exact opposite of what he’d wanted with his experiment. He hadn’t considered that a longer channel would mean the energy would need to travel farther. The energy entered his little finger a few fractions of an instant later than the rest of his fingers, although the little finger still had the shortest channel.

  “I hope this doesn’t affect my Techniques.”

  Hadjar held out his hand and said:

  “Strong Wind.”

  He used the tiniest fraction of his energy supply, just enough to stir up a small flow of air barely able to ruffle his sleeve.

  “It can’t be...” Hadjar murmured.

  At his level of power, he was able to detect even the most subtle changes in his Techniques. And now it felt like the Strong Wind, even if it had only been used for a fraction of a second, was faster.

  “Strong Wind. Strong Wind. Strong Wind.”

  After using the Technique several more times, Hadjar was sure of it. The Technique now took a little less time to use than it had before.

  “But of course!” Hadjar exclaimed, slapping his forehead.

  While his energy did actually travel farther through extended channels, what he hadn’t considered was that after leaving the channel, it still had to go through his flesh. This was much more difficult than going through the meridians, which had been created by nature specifically to transport the invisible power.

  Licking his lips in excitement and anticipation, Hadjar dived back into the World River. His first impulse was to break the two main, broadest channels. The core was located in the solar plexus, to the right of the heart. Two huge ‘trunks’ came out of it and went in different directions: one went to the upper part of the body: the shoulders, collarbones, and head. The other led to the abdomen, groin, and legs.

  Hadjar had been afraid to tear them at first, because of the pain it could cause. If Hadjar lost consciousness while in the process of tearing the channels, he would remain a cripple for the rest of his life, unable to use his energy. In other words, he would be mortal.

  Clutching a stick between his teeth, he breathed hard, and then, with one sharp effort of will, he cut a wide channel that extended to his left hand. It immediately went numb. The pain was so bad that the stick crunched as he bit into it, and blood spurted from his gums. With quick, but still precise movements, he connected the two now separate channels. He used twelve ounces of the Primordial Water, which added three and a half millimeters to the length of the newly repaired channel.

  After resting for a while and spitting out some blood, Hadjar got a new stick and started on the next channel. In total, the procedure took him another five and a half hours, and he sometimes lost consciousness for brief periods of time during it. He almost broke two of his teeth once, which, since his Technique for Strengthening the Body included regeneration, wouldn’t have been a huge problem, would’ve still been rather unpleasant.

  When everything was said and done, Hadjar’s channels had lengthened by fifteen millimeters. It wasn’t much, but Hadjar couldn’t wait to see the results.

  After resting for a while and pouring about one and a half ounces from the waterskin into a cone, he went out into the yard. He’d trained for so long that it was light out. A fresh, pleasant north wind was blowing, making it a joy to breathe in. The giant pines were swaying, the fir trees were creaking, and birds were singing high up among the treetops. The Forest of Knowledge didn’t look like the nicest area, but it could still evoke a sense of peace at times.

  Hadjar unsheathed his cheap, nameless artifact and assumed a stance. He was in no hurry to use Techniques and wanted to stretch his body first.

  True cultivators used energy without even thinking about it. That was why they had such terrifying power, at least in the eyes of ordinary mortals and practitioners. Their cores were so firmly embedded in their bodies that true cultivators not only consumed energy from the World River, but also generated it themselves. This created an endless cycle in which a cultivator first received energy, and then gave it back. If not for this process, the trillions of living beings on this world would’ve exhausted the world’s power very quickly.

  Hadjar moved smoothly and slowly, going from one stance to another. The swings of his blade caressed the air. They moved cautiously among the currents of the wind without disturbing it or creating any unnecessary gusts.

  Hadjar could swing his sword right over the grass and it wouldn’t move. He could thrust furiously at a silk handkerchief, and not a single tear would appear on it. In this smooth but violent state, full of power, Hadjar brushed against certain mysteries of the Sword Spirit, but couldn’t grasp them. Like Einen, he didn’t yet understand, or even fully sense, the path that he had to follow to become more than a Wielder. He was aware that there was a deeper level of understanding he could reach, but, since he knew nothing about it, he wandered in the dark.

  “Strong Wind.” Finally, Hadjar struck.

  It was neither a torrent of crushing wind nor an avalanche of cutting blades that surged out of his sword, but a single strike, looking like a copy of the blade he held in his hands. Inside it was a writhing black dragon. Soaring at the speed of a dagger rather than a sword, it flew a dozen yards through the air and easily cut down one…two... three… It only stopped after crossing ninety paces, and then trees began to fall. No less than twelve of them.

  “By the High Heavens,” Hadjar whispered.

  ‘The Strong Wind’ was a crushing, violent Technique. This attack was intended to deliver a stunning blow that would leave an enemy with no way to defend themselves. He hadn’t expected for all this power, contained in such a rapid attack, to be capable of... something like this.

  The power that Hadjar was now wielding was almost a third stronger than what he’d been capable of just a few days ago. Barely resisting the urge to try out his strongest attack while using his Call, Hadjar went back to the hut.
/>   He did so just in time. After crossing the threshold, Hadjar suddenly felt a twinge of vertigo, and then felt something pull him into his own subconscious. A single heartbeat later, he was lying unconscious on the wooden floorboards while his consciousness found itself in the middle of a vast meadow. At the top of the now familiar hill, the man in blue silk robes was sitting on the only rock. If not for the long horns that protruded from beneath his black hair and his amber eyes, it would’ve been impossible to tell that he was a dragon.

  “Master.” Hadjar fell to his knees in a very respectful greeting.

  Chapter 451

  “Disciple.” Traves nodded to him, and waved for Hadjar to stand up.

  Hadjar straightened up and sat down at the base of the boulder. Traves towered over him by almost three feet. The wind ruffled his fine, silk clothes, which glowed with energy. His inhuman eyes were fixed on something remote that Hadjar couldn’t see. Now he could sense that, in its human form, Traves’ Shadow had the power of a Lord at the initial stage. So, in its dragon form, the Shadow was probably at the peak of the Ancient Beast Stage, which was equal to the peak of the Lord level. That was a truly monstrous amount of power. So monstrous that Hadjar couldn’t even imagine what power the real Traves had possessed. However, compared to what Hadjar had felt before, when he’d been convinced that Traves had truly unlimited power, things were now different.

  However, in spite of this, he continued to bow to his Master, touching his forehead to the ground. Despite the ever-shrinking difference in their levels of power, Traves had earned Hadjar’s undying respect and gratitude. Even if he surpassed the ancient dragon someday, he would always venerate him.

  “You’ve become much stronger, my disciple,” Traves smiled, his unnaturally long fangs gleaming.

  “Thank you, Master.” Hadjar bowed. “I managed to change the ‘Path through the Clouds’ meditation Technique a little. Thanks to the modified Technique, I was able to not only expand my channels, but also increase their length!”

  “Hmm,” Traves pondered. His eyes lit up with understanding. “Yes, I see. It was a very dangerous decision. If you hadn’t wielded the combined essence of a dragon and a human, you would’ve probably never been able to survive the pain of your channels being severed. But I’m not talking about that power, disciple.”

  Hadjar tilted his head in confusion. He’d gotten used to the fact that it was useless to ask Traves any questions. If the dragon wanted to say something, he did. If not, it would be impossible to get anything out of him, even with torture.

  “I’m talking about this power.” Traves leaned over and placed his hand against Hadjar’s chest. “You’ve grown wiser, my disciple. Perhaps you will one day understand that the power of wisdom is sometimes much more important than the strength of one’s muscles, the width of your channels, or the speed of your Techniques. The wise thrive, the strong survive. That’s what my own Master once told me.”

  Hadjar was thunderstruck. The wise thrive, the strong survive. These six simple words contained an understanding of the world so profound that Hadjar couldn’t even comprehend what their true meaning was.

  “Your Master?” Hadjar asked suddenly.

  “Of course.” Traves laughed. His laughter was like thunder. “Did you think, my disciple, that a simple shepherd from the Dark Storm Clan could reach such a high level of cultivation on his own? If so, I must take back what I said about your newfound wisdom.”

  Hadjar grimaced, but said nothing. Even now, he’d had the wrong idea about the lives of intelligent beasts. He hadn’t known that they had more wisdom than humans and could freely assume human form.

  Dragons, from birth, had the ability to assume human form and, at the same time, were at the level of true cultivators. This meant that the path of cultivation was a thousand times harder for them than for humans.

  “What are we doing here, Master?” Hadjar bowed. “I don’t remember you ever summoning me here out of the blue before.”

  “Good question.” Traves said. His gaze was fixed on the horizon. “You are cultivating much faster than I could’ve hoped for in my wildest dreams. My original plan to visit you only after you reached certain levels of human cultivation has been rendered completely inadequate. So, I think it’s time for you to meet my Master, though I originally wanted to wait until you became a Spirit Knight.”

  “I don’t understand. How can I do that? With all due respect, honorable Master, you are dead. How can you introduce me to your Master?”

  “The same way I once showed you a scene from my past. We’ll take a journey through the mazes of my memory, disciple.”

  Traves extended his index finger. Its nail suddenly transformed into a yellow claw, and a ray of colorless energy burst out of it. It pierced Hadjar’s forehead, and before he could blink, he was standing in a field. Tall stalks of wheat were swaying everywhere around him. The wind was playing with them, creating a rhythmic, rustling sound. Puffy clouds were floating across the blue sky far above. Birds were fluttering between them, chirping loudly. There were crows, swallows, sometimes even doves. People were shouting and laughing.

  “Hurry up, Talie!” Someone shouted.

  “They’re going to cut your heels off!” Girls teased, laughing.

  Young men in canvas pants, stripped to the waist, mowed the wheat. Their skin glistened with sweat. They smiled occasionally. Someone who’d never mowed the grass with a simple scythe could never understand just how hard they were working. They moved forward in a line, and the one who had to stand at the front got the most infernal work. In addition, if he slacked off, his heels could really end up getting cut.

  Sometimes, one of the young men stepped aside. At the edge of the field, near the fence, old men sat on benches. They discussed various things while sharpening the blades of the scythes. The young men, after handing off their scythe to be sharpened, would join the girls, who stood near the bucket filled with pleasant, cold water. They would plunge their heads into the bucket, and then, to the girls’ delight, shaking their heads and splashing water everywhere, they would accept jugs of fresh milk from the girls’ tender hands.

  “By the High Heavens!” The young man exclaimed after his foot had nearly been cut off.

  “Don’t slack off, Talie!” One of the girls shouted.

  With a shock, Hadjar recognized his Master, although he was much younger, without horns, and with eyes that were more pale green than amber.

  “A Technique used to conceal one’s essence,” someone whispered to him. Hadjar turned. Next to him stood Traves in his usual form — wearing blue silk clothes, with long, black hair and horns. “My Master placed it on me. He didn’t want me to scare the people.”

  “People? Wait! Are they mere mortals?”

  Traves smiled.

  “Keep looking.”

  Hadjar turned back to the field. He watched his Master, the dragon, mow wheat alongside mortals!

  The young Traves’ eyes flashed with unkind fire. Hadjar was sure he would destroy the mortal who’d risked ‘tickling’ his heels with a scythe. Nothing of the sort happened. Instead, exhaling loudly, the young Traves smiled and snapped his fingers at his scythe’s blade.

  “It’s gotten blunt,” he said, turned, and walked to the old men.

  He gave the tool to one of them and leaned against the wooden fence.

  “What are we doing here, Master?” He asked one of the old men. His lips didn’t move. The conversation was telepathic. “This is the fifth year we’ve spent living in this village, and I still can’t make it to the next stage of cultivation, even though I feel that I am as close to it as possible! I’m simply stuck and can’t get past this barrier!”

  There was a barrier between each stage of cultivation that was sometimes extremely difficult to cross. However, it was nothing compared to the thresholds between levels.

  “Nothing for now.” One of the old men, who was wearing plain sackcloth, and whose fingers were gnarled, suddenly turned to Hadjar.
/>   This was probably something that had happened in the distant past, but he’d just turned to where Hadjar was standing right now. Hadjar could’ve sworn that the old man was looking right into his eyes.

  “We’ve been waiting.” The old man said aloud.

  “For what?” Talie asked.

  “You.”

  Hadjar didn’t understand any of this, but he continued to watch what was happening. The truly absurd thing was that the real Traves came forward. Not caring about his pristine clothes, he knelt down and touched his forehead to the ground.

  “Master,” he whispered, tears streaking down his cheeks.

  Hadjar could’ve sworn on his ancestors, the High Heavens, the Great Turtle, the Beautiful Warriors, and the Evening Stars, that the damned old man nodded to the real Traves, even though he couldn’t have known about his presence!

  “We’ll practice a little more this evening, Talie,” the old man whispered. “Now run along, I think she’s waiting for you.”

  The young dragon’s eyes gleamed with the same look that Hadjar had already seen in Nero’s eyes when he’d looked at Serra. Talie turned to a small, modest-looking girl. She glared at the dragon and tucked a lock of her black hair behind her ear. By the High Heavens, she seemed vaguely familiar to Hadjar.

  “Master... You and a mortal?”

  “Keep looking,” Traves said, still keeping his forehead pressed against the ground.

  Chapter 452

  The scene changed. Hadjar realized that he was still standing in the same field, but noon had changed to midnight. Stars he didn’t recognize shone brightly in the night sky. He hadn’t seen anything like them in Dahanatan!

  “Are we on the other side of the world?” Hadjar asked.

  “No.” Traves’ voice was very sad. “We’re currently standing where the walls of Lidus will one day be erected.”

  Hadjar choked on air and looked up at the sky once again. How long ago had this happened? How many millions of years had passed since these stars had been the ones to illuminate the night sky?

 

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