Each of them, in her own way, was a valiant warrior the bards could’ve composed a ballad about.
“You really do look great,” Einen said a bit nervously. “Is there a special occasion?”
“Yep.” Dora nodded, and with a wave of her hand, she transferred twenty Glory points. She’d bet that both of her friends would pass the exam in less than a quarter of an hour. Such bets were the rarest. Only five other people had bet on that same outcome. However, the odds were most impressive. If Dora won, her twenty points would turn into almost nine hundred.
“Your slip.” Einen said, holding out a piece of bark with a hieroglyph and a number written on it. “What’s the occasion, then?”
“Well…” Dora’s smile became even wider and brighter. “Celebrating your success, of course! I recently realized that you’ve been in the capital for almost a month and a half, and except for the special areas and the School grounds, you haven’t seen anything yet. So, after the exam, we will go for a walk around the city! I’ll help you avoid getting lost.”
Why was the girl even carrying her hammer on her back, when she could’ve easily put it away in her spatial artifact? Einen didn’t care. This was the first time Hadjar had seen his friend smiling so broadly. By the islander’s standards, something like that signified mad happiness.
“High Heavens.” Hadjar sighed, and massaged the bridge of his nose wearily.
The trio had no idea that two pairs of eyes were watching them right then. A fire raged in those eyes. A fire that could burn anyone who got close to it. It was the flame of jealousy.
Chapter 485
After a little chat with Einen, Dora left. She nodded goodbye to Hadjar and wished her friends good luck, though she was sure they wouldn’t need it.
Mentor Jean arrived an hour later. During that time, the friends had managed to rope in another three hundred participants. When Einen had finally stopped accepting bets, he’d had a considerable amount of Glory points on his token that had made them think about how else they could earn Glory points in this place.
“How much?” Hadjar asked his friend.
“83420,” Einen answered. “Some made very large bets on very safe odds. In principle, it’s-”
“That’s enough,” Hadjar interrupted him. “You know that your shady stuff is a mystery to me.”
Einen shrugged. Because he’d grown up among pirates and smugglers, such machinations were a very normal thing to him. If the islander hadn’t been a warrior, he would’ve made an excellent swindler.
“Disciples.”
The friends bowed and saluted the Mentor.
“Honorable Mentor!” They shouted in unison. “We would consider it an honor to test our strength in the exams once again!”
Simultaneously, the friends held out their scrolls sealed with magic hieroglyphs. Over the past seven hours, they’d rehearsed this moment several times, not because they were nervous, but to combat the sheer boredom.
The Mentor stared at these two ordinary disciples, clearly surprised. Of course, both of them had showed very impressive skills during the first exam. However, there’d been thousands of other cultivators like them, people who’d been able to demonstrate equally impressive and even superior skills. Jean couldn’t remember the exact number. These ‘young prodigies’ came and left. They died, or got lost in the routine of fighting for survival and pitiful amounts of Glory points. Of course, there had been other disciples of the outer circle who had managed to save up enough points to qualify to take the exam, but this had rarely happened. The last time he’d organized an advancement exam had been four years ago.
“Disciples! I am proud of you and proud that ‘The Holy Sky’ School is nurturing such capable warriors!” Jean saluted each of the disciples in turn and accepted their scrolls.
The last disciple to take the exam hadn’t earned a gold token... He’d died at the first stage of it.
“Follow me.” Jean commanded.
“Honorable Mentor,” Einen bowed, “could you tell us where we’re going?”
Jean narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but didn’t comment on the question.
“The second obstacle course. Everything has been prepared for your exam.”
Making it clear that that was the end of the conversation, Mentor Jean turned and headed toward the obstacle courses. Hadjar wrote the place and approximate time on a piece of parchment and passed it to Einen. The islander tossed the parchment in the air, cocked his arm back, and hurled a dagger. As they left, the parchment was nailed to the door of the Hall of Fame by the thrown dagger. Einen’s dagger throwing was only slightly worse than his ability to come up with clever schemes.
After fifteen minutes of slow walking, they passed the training grounds and came to the obstacle courses. They looked like small, oval arenas that could seat two thousand spectators. Their walls were thirty feet high, and the arenas contained seats for spectators and a fairly spacious platform in the middle. They formed a semicircle around the main arena. The Tournament of Twelve would be held there in a few years — a competition between the three best Schools and the seven great clans. That made for a total of ten participants, and Hadjar didn’t understand why it was called the ‘Tournament of Twelve’. He also didn’t understand how they could even compete since the children of the seven clans studied in the three Schools. Dora had told him that the children of the secondary branches of the Marnil clan studied at the ‘Meltwater’ and ‘Quick Dream’ Schools. They had other surnames, but they were elves and belonged to House Marnil. The same was true of the Tarez and the Predatory Blades clan, whose main family bore the surname Dinos. By the way, Price Geran was one of the sons of the main family of the Geran clan, the weakest of the seven great houses. Only their eldest heir had been able to get into ‘The Holy Sky’ School as an inner circle disciple.
As they walked through the stone arch that served as the entrance to the arena, both friends felt a bit of energy brush lightly against them. It was as if an invisible hand had run through their hair and, finding nothing untoward there, had let them pass.
“A veil?” Hadjar asked in a whisper.
Einen was much better at spells and using external energy than he was. Moreover, the bald man had learned how to cast a variety of veils and even magic traps quite well.
“No.” The islander shook his head. “It’s something more... I don’t know. Spiritual and... creepy.”
“Creepy?”
“Yeah…”
“It feels like an executioner’s axe.” Jean grunted from up ahead. They went down a very long corridor. The obstacle course’s walls were more than sixty feet thick. “It’s an ancient spell.”
“Ancient doesn’t always mean good,” Einen said in his philosophical manner.
“You’re right, disciple. I just wanted to point out that this spell was embedded in the arch here a very long time ago. So long ago, in fact, that only the Keeper of the Treasure Tower remembers it being cast.”
Hadjar whistled involuntarily. If the spell had lasted that long, then it was probably very powerful. Even if all the Lords of ‘The Holy Sky’ School’s combined their power, it would most likely not be enough to break the spell.
“The spell acts like a shield. It doesn’t let out the echoes of Techniques used at the obstacle course, and it doesn’t let any Techniques in. A similar spell, only more powerful, surrounds the stage in the arena itself and the entire territory of ‘The Holy Sky’ School.”
“I’m sure,” Einen whispered, “that it has other features that the disciples aren’t supposed to know about. By the Great Turtle, the touch of that spell wasn’t friendly.”
Hadjar silently agreed with his friend. It was unclear what or whom it was meant to stop, but the spell had an active function as well. And if it hadn’t liked Hadjar, he was certain it would’ve obliterated him easily. A monstrous thing…
“Here we are.” Jean said.
They stood on the sandy edge of a raised, hexagonal platform. It was large
enough to accommodate about a dozen warriors.
“So, this is the first part of the test. When you get there,” Jean started, but, upon noticing the disciples’ excitement, hastily added, “On your own, of course… You will encounter a barrier similar to the one you had to overcome in your first exam.”
“The pressure of an aura?” Hadjar guessed.
“Something like that. Only, instead of the simple pressure of an aura, you will be assaulted by a deadly Technique at the peak of the Heaven Soldier level. The Technique will adapt to your type of energy, weapon, and the Spirit which you have the most affinity for.”
Hadjar looked at the arena. He couldn’t see its center, but there was an artifact there that could conjure such a power. He wasn’t sure that he could’ve handled the exam without completing the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique and mastering the Sword's Heart. He wasn’t afraid of peak Heaven Soldiers, but he guessed that this particular pressure would be stronger than what a peak Heaven Soldier could produce. Would he be able to deal with it now?
“Okay, who’s up first?” Jean asked.
Hadjar took a decisive step forward.
Chapter 486
Einen nodded gratefully. He would freely admit that Hadjar was stronger than him when it came to these kinds of things. If he couldn’t handle the pressure of the artifact, the islander wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Go.” Jean said, gesturing to the steps leading up to the platform above them. “You’ll have exactly a minute and a half to get ready.”
“I understand, honorable Mentor.”
Hadjar saluted and went up. As soon as he crossed the threshold of the spell-shield, he felt the pressure of the magic veil once again. All the sounds coming from outside were immediately cut off: he couldn’t hear the wind whistling, or the rustling of Einen’s clothes, not even what Einen was whispering to Jean.
Hadjar didn’t hear the cultivators hurrying over to watch the exam. They all clutched their betting slips, surprised that the examinees themselves had organized the betting.
They didn’t think Einen and Hadjar would dare to try and cheat them. If they did, they wouldn’t leave the School grounds alive after a thousand angry Heaven Soldiers descended upon them.
Unsheathing his sword, Hadjar held it in front of him and sat in a lotus position. Right in the center of the hexagonal platform, on a tripod, sat a crystal ball. Inside it, a small but dense and insanely bright hieroglyph swirled. It emitted a light so piercing and hot that no mortal could stand near it for more than ten seconds.
Centering himself, Hadjar began to sink slowly into the World River. There, in its depths, glittered a myriad of multicolored stars. They were all Spirits: the Sword Spirit, Saber Spirit, Spear Spirit, Fire Spirit, Avalanche Spirit, Leaf Spirit, Grass Spirit, Sand Spirit, Stone Spirit, Raindrop Spirit, River Spirit... All the Spirits that existed in this world and had any wisdom to share with others.
Hadjar was surprised to find that a drop of rain contained more wisdom than the mind of a Lord at the initial stage — Mentor Markin or Mentor Jean couldn’t compete with it at all. After all, if either of them had fully mastered the mysteries of even such a ‘small’ Spirit as the Raindrop Spirit, their power would’ve been so great that even the Emperor himself, the strongest cultivator of Darnassus, would’ve seemed like no more than an ant compared to them.
That realization comforted Hadjar and gave him confidence in his abilities. Rahaim had said that he wasn’t destined to become a Lord, but maybe he wouldn’t need to.
Of course, a Lord had a much longer lifespan. Ten thousand years for them was like a year for a mortal. The power in their cores was almost unlimited.
He didn’t know what Markin’s and Jean’s goals in life were, but anyone who reached the Lord level sought power above all else. Did Hadjar need power? No, it had always been just a means to an end and nothing more. His goal, no matter how crazy and impossible it sounded, was the Seventh Heaven and the gods who inhabited it. Even if he wasn’t destined to live for tens or hundreds of thousands of years, he would make do with what he had. If he wasn’t destined to become a Lord and advance further along the path of cultivation, he would learn the mysteries of as many Spirits as it took to achieve his goal and ensure he and everyone else were finally free.
“Begin!”
Mentor Jean sent a thread of power into the artifact. The hieroglyph inside the sphere immediately responded, producing incredible energy. At first, it swept the entire platform with a huge wave. The wave was the essence of unbridled rage and pure power, without any of the added mysteries of Spirits or human cultivation.
Such an ocean of power could’ve swept not just Hadjar away, but the Mentor himself. Now it was clear why the obstacle courses had so many layers of various protection.
Hadjar opened his eyes. They shone with determination and a steely, unyielding will. There was no barrier in this world that could stop him from reaching his goal. He could see his path clearly — a stone bridge spanning across a raging ocean.
The ocean of energy released by the artifact suddenly shrank and subsided, stabilizing at the level of a peak Heaven Soldier. After a few more moments, the pure energy assumed the features of the Sword Spirit.
The audience gasped as a gigantic blade formed directly above Hadjar’s head. Twenty-five feet long and five feet wide, it radiated such deep mysteries of the Sword Spirit that it caused deep cuts to appear along the dais. The pressure of this weapon was enough to make bloody streaks appear on Hadjar’s shoulders and arms.
“Is he suicidal?” Whispers came from the stands.
“Why isn’t he using any defensive Techniques?”
“Why isn’t he using his sword?”
“Damn it! Does he want to die?”
“They’re swindlers!”
Only a few spectators remained absolutely calm. They understood Hadjar’s intentions perfectly, electing to observe him silently. Perhaps they would’ve done the same thing if they had been in his place. After all, it wasn’t every day that a person got the opportunity to experience a deeper understanding of their spirit in such a direct manner.
Hadjar, with his will and heart strengthened, clenched his teeth and withstood the pressure of the mere presence of the weapon. He’d seen something similar before, back when the Shadow of the Immortal Swordsman in its tomb in the Black Mountains had touched its sword. When the Shadow had let some of its power out, the mere presence of a sword in its hand had been enough to make Hadjar feel the cold touch of death, and the stones in the area had slowly begun to crumble into thousands of pieces. Back then, Hadjar hadn’t understood the Sword Spirit well enough or had the necessary Techniques to benefit from that display. However, after visiting the library of Mage City, he’d received an ancient tablet which had taught him a way to deepen his understanding of the Sword’s essence by observing other people’s Techniques. In principle, every cultivator was able to do this, but they needed some inspiration and enlightenment. The tablet had helped with that.
As new, bloody cuts appeared all over Hadjar’s body, his understanding of the Sword Spirit deepened. Not by much, it was almost imperceptible progress, but he was still moving forward. Only those who refused to keep going forward never reached their goal.
“Technique!” Mentor Jean ordered.
The giant sword immediately came to life. It swung down. Its blade turned into a rapid torrent of water that had the silhouettes of predatory fish within it.
“That’s the ‘Dead River Slash!’”
“Damn it! That’s a Heaven level Technique!”
“I saw Laris Dinos, the eldest heir of the Predatory Blades clan, use it once! He obliterated a dozen Spirit Knight level golems by just using this Technique a single time!”
“That boy is doomed!”
A torrent of water fell on Hadjar’s head. He was still sitting in a lotus position. The platform around him immediately cracked, and he sank down into a hole that was three feet deep. Other deep cracks snaked out from
the epicenter of the water’s impact. They spread all the way to the walls and, after colliding with the flashing borders of the spell-shield, finally stopped.
“Damn it!”
“My Glory points!”
“He committed suicide!”
Dozens of shouts came from the stands. Some threw their slips down in anger. However, several spectators, including Mentor Jean and Einen, maintained an icy calm.
“Wait a minute!”
“Look!”
“What’s that?”
A black light suddenly flashed inside the blue, glowing water. It gradually grew stronger until a dense pillar of energy shot into the sky. Within that pillar, Hadjar still sat in the lotus position. His blue eyes radiated a will as strong as the Heavens themselves.
Surprisingly, he didn’t have a sword, nor the Black Blade, in his hands. He was gripping his knees, and his artifact blade was in its sheath, lying in front of him.
“He’s gone mad,” Jean croaked. “Has he really decided to fight with his Spirit alone?”
Chapter 487
When Hadjar had initially been struck by the furious torrent of water, his first impulse had been to draw his sword. With an effort of will, he’d suppressed the urge. And now, diving into the depths of his mind, he ignored the Black Blade and turned his gaze toward the sleeping little dragon. Once upon a time, while traveling through the Sea of Sand, it had been the size of his palm. Now, years later, it had grown as big as his outstretched arm.
“It’s time for a new battle, my little friend,” Hadjar called out to this part of his Self.
The dragon wasn’t an alien entity. It was a suppressed fragment of Hadjar’s personality that had been awakened with Einen’s help.
The dragon, shaking off the shackles of sleep, ran joyfully up Hadjar’s arm and merged with the tattoo on his chest. In the physical world, it didn’t take even a fraction of a moment.
By the time the torrent of water summoned by the artifact slashed at Hadjar’s head, he was already wrapped in a cloak of black fog. Back when he’d been just a practitioner, the Call had been limited to this particular cloak, but now it included a pair of bracers as well.
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