“How long have you kept watch here?” His voice sounded like the whispering of the wind.
“For three years,” the leader replied, clearly relieved that the stranger wasn’t hostile. “We’re the seventeenth post. We’re part of the Fifth Guard.”
“And how many posts are there?”
The leader was about to reply, but then stopped.
“Why do you need to know that, wanderer?”
Hadjar saw large drops trickle down Traves’ face. Not all of them were rainwater…
“Ten thousand years have passed, guardian,” the dragon’s voice sounded eerie. “Ten thousand years have passed since the Dark Storm tribe lived here.”
As soon as the words were uttered, the guards drew their swords.
“Sound the al-”
The leader of the warriors didn’t get to finish speaking. Traves waved his hand, cutting him off. He lifted his fist up toward the sky and then lowered it back down with great force. Even though it was just a memory, Hadjar felt incredible power emanate from the attack. As Traves’ hand descended, fiery spears fell from the sky, piercing everything within a five yard radius. Each spear was as strong as a swing of Anise’s sword.
“Kingdom of the Spear,” Traves said quietly.
The guards were killed instantly. The attack was monstrously powerful and incredibly fast. The spears began to turn into dragons, but they didn’t manage to assume their true forms using just the pile of butchered flesh, bones, and metal. Despite the ferocity of the attack, not even a single blade of grass had been cut. Traves stepped over the pile of mutilated bodies and crouched, running his hand over the streams of blood that now flowed down the slope.
“This will give rise to new crops,” the dragon whispered, then kept going.
The scene changed.
The road and the hill were replaced by a field in the middle of which stood a simple stone fort. Hadjar had seen a similar fort in his homeland, Lidus. They weren’t as large and intricate as the ones in Darnassus, and were designed to house no more than fifty thousand warriors.
This particular fort, which had been made from strange red bricks and stones, was being engulfed by a raging fire. The field around it was littered with bodies. Blood flowed through the scorched grass like a stream. Inside the fort, there wasn’t a single surface not covered by a mauled body. Some corpses looked human, while others had managed to assume their true form. Heads, claws, and horns lay strewn about among all the debris and steel. Hadjar, who had seen a lot of horrific massacres in his lifetime, shuddered at the sight.
“It can’t be... It can’t be…”
The leader of the guards hung from the parapet of the central barbican, directly above the moat.
“You’re all dead,” he croaked. “All of you... The entire Dark Storm tribe-”
“Not all of us.”
Traves squeezed his hand tighter around the man’s throat. There was an unpleasant crunch. The head guard’s body twitched and went limp. Traves let go of the corpse. The body made no sound, its landing cushioned by the blood and corpses covering the ground.
When he came back down, Traves waded straight through the blood, walking among the bodies of the fallen. He held his spear-staff, which, with the blade out, looked like a glaive, not a traditional spear. Once he was far enough away from the fort, he stripped to the waist and sat down on the ground, letting the crimson rain wash over him. He set his weapon aside and took out a narrow dagger. With a quick flick of his wrist, he cut his hair. Placing it in front of him, he touched his forehead to the ground.
“Mother and father. Brothers and sisters. Ten thousand years have passed since I last held you. Ten thousand years have passed since these lands saw a clear sky above them, since cattle grazed here. With this flesh, my own and yours, I will bring back the Spirit of the Dark Storm tribe. With the blood of our enemies, I will fertilize the earth. I swear that one day, the Blue Tree will bloom here once more.”
The scene changed once again. Hadjar didn’t know how many years had passed, but his Master’s hair had grown back.
Traves was plowing a field. He’d attached a huge boulder to a plow so that its ‘scythe’ would sink deep into the ground, then he’d put on the yoke and, sweating profusely, was now pulling the plow behind him. The soil he was cultivating was so dense that even Hadjar’s strongest attack couldn’t have left a dent in it. So, it wasn’t surprising that even a Primeval Beast like Traves, whose power was equal to the peak of the Lord level, had to work hard to plow it.
“Darling,” called a soft voice.
Traves stopped. His powerful but slim torso, covered in hundreds of scars, glistened in the sun. A pretty woman stood behind him, holding a pitcher of cold milk in her hands. Short horns peeked out from beneath her red hair.
“The baby’s kicking. Come feel it.”
Traves bent down and pressed his ear to his wife’s belly.
“It’s been five years already,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Another year and we’ll have a son.”
“What makes you say that?” The woman laughed and buried her hands in his long, black hair.
“The Dark Storm tribe needs strong sons! Otherwise, how will we plow and cultivate this land?”
Traves looked around at the endless fields and meadows. There was no sign of the fort or the bodies that had been etched into Hadjar’s memory forever. The land of his distant ancestors now looked the same as it had in Traves’ first memory. Everything looked serene and calm.
However, anxiety filled Hadjar’s heart.
Chapter 526
“The seeds of the Blue Tree can be found in waterfalls, but only in the Land of the Lords of the Heavens,” Traves whispered as he placed large, bluish seeds into the plowed soil. “When they bloom, they will attract good spirits that’ll help feed and protect the cattle, making sure it grows to be strong and hardy.”
It was the second day of Hadjar’s stay in Traves’ memories. He knew that his wife was named Tiglit, and that their future son would be called Aurgor. If they had a daughter, a possibility Traves was afraid of, they would call her Auga.
“One day, I’ll tell all of this to my son... But until then, I’ll be telling my stories to you,” Traves said to the summer breeze.
Wearing a pair of simple canvas pants and a shirt of the same material, he didn’t look like the wise Master Hadjar remembered, or the brutal warrior that had killed all those other dragons. Hadjar didn’t know why the dragon army hadn’t been sent here after Traves had destroyed the fort. There must’ve been a reason.
After planting the seed and patting the soil with his hand, Traves picked up his shepherd’s staff and stood up. The handkerchief that he’d tied around his head slid to one side. He adjusted it, wiping the sweat from his face.
A neat, small, cozy house stood on the very edge of the field. It always smelled pleasant. A cool wind blew through the open windows, and Tiglit could be heard bustling in the kitchen. Her cooking looked and smelled delicious, but Hadjar, to his dismay, couldn’t taste the food.
Wiping her hands on her white apron, Tiglit observed her husband. Her smile told Traves everything he needed to know.
“I’m going away for a while,” he said, putting his ear to her belly again. “Just for a couple of days. I’ll sell some vegetables and meat, then be right back.”
Tiglit nodded, but her smile faded with every word he spoke. “Do we really need the coin?”
Traves straightened back up and walked over to the loaded wagon, which he planned to pull himself.
“Winter is coming. We need to insulate the house and change the roof. I don’t have enough time to cut down all the Stone Trees we need. Besides, when the baby comes… You know how much food a young dragon needs.”
“I know.” Tiglit nodded calmly, but her green eyes conveyed just how concerned she was. “Please, come back soon.”
Hadjar, who felt like something was wrong, wanted to shout at Traves, warn him not to leave her alone, but
he couldn’t. After all, this was all a shadow of the distant past.
The next memory made Hadjar shudder and choke back a lump in his throat. Traves, on his knees, was looking at the burning fields. The fields that he had cultivated, sweetening them with his sweat and blood, were ruined. The seedlings had been trampled and burned. The future Blue Tree was no more. Their small house was on fire. The walls had collapsed, burying the unfinished nursery and the carpenter’s table where Traves had been making a crib for the little one.
“High Heavens,” he sobbed, tears rolling down his cheeks. His body shook with sobs. However, his emotional wounds were gradually healing. Traves was a strong warrior, able to withstand this punishing blow from fate. “Tiglit... My sweet Tiglit.”
In his arms, he held his wife’s body. Her belly had been ripped open and... Hadjar turned away. There were things in this world that no one could look at.
A new memory came.
Hadjar was now behind his Master, who was standing in front of two tombstones. Dragons didn’t burn the bodies of their dead. Tradition dictated that the dead be buried so that their souls might one day find their way back.
Traves placed a bouquet of wildflowers on the larger stone. Tiglit had always loved them and had decorated their dining table with them. On the smaller tombstone that had the name ‘Auga’ written on it, he put a charred toy — a winged pony.
“Goodbye, Tiglit. Goodbye, Auga,” he whispered, shedding his last tear.
Turning around, he strode to the house. With a wave of his hand, he scattered the remnants of what had once been his home and sanctuary. He then went to where the fireplace had been. Knuckles bleeding, he punched through the foundation and pulled out two items — a gold medallion and his spear-staff. After draping the medallion over his chest and grabbing the staff, Traves rose to his feet. He went out into the field, plunged the weapon into his own heart, and threw his head back, staring up the sky.
“Gods!” He roared so loudly that the ground cracked and the trees in the woods bent. “If you can hear me, I, Traves, the last of the Dark Storm tribe, want to tell you that you are unfair! You can’t possibly be worthy of being gods! What were my daughter and wife guilty of? What, I ask you? What can an unborn child be guilty of?”
The heavens answered with silence. Traves waited until he saw the first stars appear in the sky. Eyes blazing with rage, he looked at the ground.
“Gargan!” He shouted. “We had a deal! You gave me your word and swore on the symbol of wisdom that you wouldn’t harm the new Dark Storm tribe!”
Traves gazed eastward. Somewhere in that direction, according to his stories, was the capital of the Dragon Lands, a magnificent city that even Dahanatan paled in comparison to.
“Just you wait, my enemy. I’m coming for you.”
With that, Traves struck the golden amulet with his fist. It began to expand, covering his scarred chest with a golden breastplate. Its radiance turned into a heat so great that the ground under his feet began to melt. Gauntlets covered Traves’ arms, and simply moving them generated a wave of light that swept out for several miles in all directions, cutting down hundreds of Stone Trees. The shoulder pads with golden hammers engraved on them were so heavy that Traves’ knees almost buckled under the weight. The sharp blades on the greaves made him faster than the wind itself; the kneepads shaped like the muzzle of the Sky Dog, the guardian of the Seventh Heaven, inspired fear and horror. A helmet that left his whole face exposed and had a bunch of red threads coming out of the top completed his appearance. Hadjar mentally reached for his weapon. He’d never felt such power emanating from any artifact before.
“A Divine level artifact,” he whispered.
“I swore to never take up arms again in exchange for peace.” Traves spun his spear-staff and crouched slightly. “But now... I’ll destroy you all!”
Jumping, he turned into a blurry dot in the sky. For the first time ever, Hadjar saw how the ‘Path through the Clouds’ Technique worked. Startled, he didn’t immediately notice when the scene changed.
That was the last sunset Traves had ever seen.
Chapter 527
The capital of the Dragon Lands was truly magnificent. Hadjar didn’t get the chance to see the palaces and streets outside its walls, but just the sight of its walls and towers filled him with awe and respect.
The central gates were decorated with a golden arch that weighed a hundred tons. Many scenes from past battles in which the Dragon Emperors had defeated their numerous enemies and invaders were depicted on the arch. These enemies had mostly been other advanced beasts: Winged Tigers, Sea Dragons, Fire Lions, Phoenixes, Azure Birds, and other legendary creatures, and some humans as well, but they weren’t very numerous. Regardless of who they’d been, all of them had found their doom in the Dragon Lands. No one had ever been able to break through the gates of this mighty fortress.
“GARGAN!” Traves shouted.
Shouldering his spear-staff, Traves stood face to face with an entire army. A hundred thousand armed Red Dragon soldiers had come out to meet him, ready to follow their Emperor’s orders to the very end.
“Why have you come here, last of the Dark Storm clan?” Gargan asked, his deep voice reverberating across the field.
Hadjar looked around, but couldn’t spot the Emperor.
“My family, Gargan! They’re dead! Your warriors killed them!”
A deafening silence descended upon the scene. The low whistling of the wind assured Hadjar that he hadn’t lost his hearing.
“My heart aches, my enemy,” Gargan replied with genuine grief in his voice. “But none of my warriors are daring enough to disobey my orders and invade your lands. I honored our agreement: you no longer take up weapons, and I allow the Dark Storm tribe to be reborn once-”
“Shut up, Gargan!” Traves roared, making the ground shake. Debris fell from the walls. The power of a Primordial Dragon was more potent than that of a simple Primordial Beast. “I found this on my land!”
Traves presented the army with a gold amulet attached to a red silk string. It was covered with symbols unknown to Hadjar.
“This is the seal of the Imperial Order! You gave it to your assassins!”
There was silence again.
“Would you believe me, my enemy, if I told you that that seal was stolen from the Palace just recently? I also promise to punish those responsible and personally bring you their heads.”
“Enough!” Traves flung the amulet away as if it were something filthy and disgusting. “Stop talking nonsense. Today, I’ll either lose my life or take yours!”
Gargan sighed sadly.
“Kill the invader! That’s an order!”
“YES, MY EMPEROR!” the warriors shouted in unison and rushed forward. Traves looked up at the sky again.
“Father, mother… Brothers, sisters... Tiglit, Auga... I’ll come see you in the blue expanses of the Infinite Heavens soon…”
He drove his spear-staff into the ground and put on his helmet. A torrent of roaring wind struck the field. Traves’ scarlet cloak spread out. His Divine level armor flashed with heat, and his Imperial level weapon glimmered. He soared into the sky and landed right in the center of the army, crushing his fellow dragons. Hadjar didn’t understand why the dragons didn’t assume their true forms.
Even when Traves’ eyes lit up with golden fire, they continued to fight in their human forms. He crushed them as if they were ordinary mortals and not mighty warriors at the peak stage of the Spirit Knight level. Wrapped in flames, Traves’ spear-staff vaporized his foes. Each broad sweep of his weapon ended the lives of a couple dozen warriors.
“Kingdom of the Spear!” Traves shouted and waved his hand, raining hundreds of fiery spears down on his enemies.
The spears destroyed the walls of the magnificent capital and obliterated the dying warriors. Traves looked like a fiery tornado as he cut through the sea of enemies. Neither sword, nor spear, nor arrow could so much as graze his armor. Anise was a particularly
slow snail compared to him.
The enemy soldiers fought back with attacks so powerful that they could’ve easily killed a fully-armored Tom in one strike.
The battle raged on, making the sky and earth shake.
Traves continued to fight alone against hundreds and thousands of warriors. He swung his spear-staff with precise and unstoppable fervor. All of his attacks ended someone’s life. The Kingdom of the Spear only made things far worse.
Soon, there were mounds of bodies piled up around Traves.
“GAR-GAN!” He shouted again, overpowering the screams of the dying and the overall cacophony of battle.
Then there was only silence and darkness. Hadjar thought that the memory was over, but then he heard several voices.
“With just one blow, Your Majesty, you were able to bring down this madman. Your power is equal to the gods themselves!”
“I’m still a long way from reaching the level of the venerable kings of old, and I don’t like flattery.”
Hadjar felt Traves trying to say something, but failing to do so. He’d been gagged and blindfolded, then chained to the floor.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” the second voice continued speaking after a moment’s pause. “Should I get things ready for a public execution?”
The Emperor said nothing. He approached Traves, who tried to reach for him to no avail.
“I told you the truth, my enemy. I had nothing to do with the death of your wife and child. By the High Heavens, what kind of monster would raise a hand against a baby?! I swear by my ancestors that I’ll find them and grant them a fate worse than death.”
Hadjar, like Traves, didn’t believe this usurper. Long ago, Gargan had been dishonorable enough to not only stage a coup in the capital, but to also completely destroy the entire Imperial family, including their cubs…
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