Dragon Heart

by Kirill Klevanski

“The true path of cultivation,” Hadjar nodded.

  He’d wanted to say something else, but abruptly shut his mouth. Traves had burst into wild laughter and nearly fallen off the stone he was sitting on. However, he quickly pulled himself together.

  “The true path of cultivation,” the Lord of the Heavens said amusedly, “Is nothing more than a joke made up by those who look down on the world. Once you find out the truth about this true path, you’ll laugh at your own naivety. No, Hadjar Darkhan, even the true path is still just a part of the World River. However, that priest’s power... it was beyond my comprehension. It didn’t come from the world, but from the gods themselves.”

  “But aren’t the gods a part of this world?”

  Traves looked at Hadjar and sighed wearily.

  “Your questions become more dangerous by the second, my disciple. I live on the border of your soul and mine, and I can sometimes see echoes of your past. You’ve met Helmer, the Lord of Nightmares, haven’t you?”

  Hadjar flinched. That had happened a very long time ago. Back when he and Nero had tried to infiltrate the castle of General Larvie, who had tried to become a Heaven Soldier with the help of an artifact that had belonged to a creature which was normally considered a scary bedtime story. The demon had come for his prey. Hadjar had been too weak to comprehend even the tiniest fragment of the demon’s power. He now knew... that he knew nothing. Helmer’s power had truly been beyond Hadjar’s ability to even perceive.

  “Gods and demons, disciple, are simply two sides of the same coin. And it’s not possible for the likes of you or me to try and unravel their secrets.”

  Something suddenly dawned on Hadjar!

  “You’ve met Helmer too...”

  Traves nodded.

  “He is one of the entities called emissaries. The Prince of Demons often sends his most faithful subordinates to meet mortals. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. I don’t want to know! I would advise you not to think about it, disciple. In this world, there are monsters you’re better off forgetting about. If you do, your heart will be at ease and you will follow the path of cultivation without looking back.”

  Hadjar immediately wanted to object and start arguing. How could he ignore the existence of monsters whose power was so great that even the dragon trembled in fear at their mere mention? How could he simply forget about a secret so ancient and deep that even the great ones avoided mentioning it? However, this impulse, more befitting a rash youth than an experienced warrior, passed.

  “I can’t promise you that, Master,” Hadjar bowed.

  “I know.”

  Well, at least Traves had partially answered one of his questions. Hadjar still had no idea how successful his expedition to Mage City would be. The fairy had seemed terrified of Hadjar reaching it, but he didn’t know why.

  He’d also learned about the priests and the fact that they could be found in the Land of Immortals. Now, in addition to the oath he’d made, Hadjar had one more reason to visit it. Of course, he had to find it first, not to mention discover a way to reach the continent that floated among the clouds.

  “All of that is unimportant, my disciple,” Traves waved his questions off. “I’ve brought you here today so you can continue your studies. Your soul is strong enough and has been sufficiently tempered by the Sword Spirit, which means you can safely begin to study the fifth stance of the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique.”

  “Safely?” Hadjar asked.

  Traves was about to answer, but then smiled instead.

  “By the Heavens! I sometimes forget how little you know about the path of cultivation!”

  Hadjar frowned. He understood that his knowledge, compared to the knowledge of a drifter from the capital of the Empire, was pitiful. Even the drifter surely knew much more than he did. He urgently needed to find a suitable school or sect. If he didn’t, his promise to salute the stele at the House of Blade Fury would never be fulfilled, and Hadjar himself would perish in an abyss of dullness and oblivion.

  “The further you progress along the path of cultivation, my disciple, the more difficult every next step becomes. Sometimes, it isn’t just difficult, but dangerous as well. Tell me, what would happen if you gave a small child a heavy sword?”

  “They would kill themselves with it,” Hadjar replied instantly.

  “The same thing would happen if you tried to study a Technique that is inaccessible to your current level of power and, more importantly, to your understanding of the world. I want to make it clear that you never cease to amaze me with your perseverance, zeal, and your talent for the Way of the Sword. That’s why you can now learn what others would only be able to master at the middle stage of the Heaven Soldier level.”

  Traves grinned. His unnaturally long fangs made his smile look intimidating.

  “I’m talking about people who have human hearts, of course, and not one with the heart of the last survivor of the Dark Storm tribe.”

  Hadjar involuntarily reached for the tattoo on his chest.

  “Well, let’s get started.” The dragon in human form got up and went over to the training site.

  It looked the same as last time: a huge meadow with large stones scattered across it. However, they’d been arranged in a long row last time, and now they’d been organized into an even circle.

  “It’s time for you to learn the secret of the fifth stance.”

  Another difference was that Traves now held a real sword.

  “The secret behind it is very simple: in the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique, there are no fifth, sixth, or seventh stances.”

  “I haven’t been good at unraveling riddles and mysteries recently...”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, disciple,” Traves interrupted him, “you’ve never been good at that. Let’s get back to training. You have to discover the remaining three stances yourself. I can only give you a hint.”

  Traves assumed a relaxed stance, and then swung his sword casually. The attack he launched looked like a stream of cutting wind, like in the ‘Strong Wind’ stance, except it didn’t travel in a straight line, and instead flew out in a wide circle around him. With just one strike, Traves had been able to leave cuts on each of the stones surrounding them.

  “I’ll show you the stance again.”

  He ended up having to show it more than once…

  Each time, Hadjar felt his understanding of the Technique growing stronger. After the hundredth demonstration, Hadjar was finally able to notice something that had eluded his gaze before. Traves’ attack wasn’t just similar to the ‘Strong Wind’, it was it. However, it was also the ‘Calm Wind’ stance.

  “Master,” Hadjar interjected before Traves’ started another demonstration, “please aim your attack at me.”

  Traves, instead of refusing, just smiled broadly.

  “Finally,” he said. “As my own Master once said, a seeker of knowledge must understand the deepest truths on their own skin.”

  The truth that Hadjar understood at that very moment was that, compared to Traves, Sankesh was a small, unruly puppy. If this hadn’t simply been an illusory world, no trace of Hadjar would’ve been left after the dragon’s attack. Not even his soul. His forefathers would never have gotten a chance to welcome him into their home.

  Chapter 377

  Hadjar sometimes doubted the soundness of his own mind. Only insanity could explain the fact that, at that very moment, he was meditating deeply on the border between his and the dragon’s soul, which looked like an endless meadow full of green grass. It sounded so ridiculous that if someone had told Hadjar this would be his destiny twenty years ago, he would’ve laughed at them, provided they weren’t a small, imaginative child.

  He sometimes felt like the events of the past year had happened to someone else a few centuries ago, that’s how disconnected he was from them. However, after calming down, he examined his life, and it seemed like everything had happened far too quickly. It was as Traves had said: all of it was unimportant in the grand scheme of things
, so dwelling on it wouldn’t do him any good.

  Hadjar was currently meditating over the fifth stance of the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique. He’d needed to see Traves’ two hundred demonstrations against the stones and then experience the one attack aimed at himself to understand the essence of Traves’ fifth stance. And it was undoubtedly Traves’ own stance, unique to him. From the very first moment he’d begun studying the Technique given to him by the dragon, Hadjar had realized that something was wrong with it. For example, the ‘Scorched Falcon’ Technique was fairly straightforward: every time someone made progress in it and their understanding of it deepened, the only outward sign of that progress was the bird itself growing larger. As for the three (‘Spring Wind’ was an exception) stances of the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique, they changed depending on what Hadjar put into them. The first attacks he’d made with the ‘Strong Wind’ were very different to the ones he used with it now. It hadn’t conjured any dragons or a tsunami of cutting wind before. Why? Well, Hadjar hadn’t been privy to all its secrets back then. To understand them, he needed to have the knowledge and power that Traves had possessed when he’d created the Technique.

  As for the stances, utilizing them was much simpler. Well, if one could ever call knowledge that required a person to reach the middle stage of the Heaven Soldier level simple.

  The fifth stance, which Traves called ‘South Wind’, wasn’t actually... called that. Or rather, only Traves’ version was called that. Hadjar was going to give it another name, as well as a completely different form.

  The truth was that the fifth, sixth, and seventh stances of the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique were nothing more than different combinations of the first four stances. So, according to his simple estimates, there could only be a maximum of sixteen of them. Out of these sixteen, he needed to only choose three. Even then, two people who chose the same combination wouldn’t invent the same stances. After all, everyone had their own inner spirit, which affected the sword and Technique.

  Hadjar continued to meditate on the fifth stance. He recalled his past battles. Not the times he’d slaughtered enemy troops by the dozen, but his fights against opponents whose power had seemed unthinkable. He recalled Shakar and Shakh, Ilmena and the Governor of the Empire, Primus and the Patriarch of ‘The Black Gates’ sect, his inner dragon and Coyote, the Bedouin tribe’s warrior, Karissa’s spells and his battles in the Pit, and, of course, Olgerd. Especially Olgerd.

  What had Hadjar lacked in all these battles? The answer seemed simple enough — a second sword. The Master had once told Hadjar the legend of the swordsman who could wield a sword in both their left and right hand with equal skill.

  Of course, Hadjar was very talented in the way of the Sword Spirit. However, his body, apart from the dragon’s heart, was very average, maybe a little above that, given the strength of the nodes and meridians in his body through which the energy of the World River flowed. Unfortunately, Hadjar couldn’t wield a sword equally well with both hands. Not because of his hands, mind you. As soon as they reached the Transformation of the Mortal Shell stage, all practitioners became ambidextrous, but holding a spoon in both hands differed from wielding weapons with both of them.

  If Hadjar couldn’t wield two swords at once, how should he solve the problem? The answer was in his last battle.

  Hadjar still remembered how Olgerd had used the ‘Icy Wasteland’ Technique. The sabers that had appeared out of the ice had helped him a lot. They would’ve rendered any other opponents who were less experienced than Hadjar completely helpless. Olgerd had also had the ‘Blizzard’ Technique and his snow clones. So, Hadjar lacked Techniques similar to the northerner’s. Not ones based on ice, of course, but ones that could aid him in battle without his direct guidance.

  Continuing to meditate, Hadjar, as if using a microscope, examined the stances of the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique from all angles. He analyzed their energy flows, how the Sword Spirit and the energy of the World River interacted within them, their mutual vibrations, and both their synchronization and desynchronization. The process was insanely challenging and intense. It fundamentally differed from Hadjar’s attempts to break the protective seal on Brom’s box because he wasn’t trying to break anything this time, and was instead trying to merge things.

  He didn’t know how long he spent immersed in the deep meditation. He didn’t know how many times he snapped out of it, took his sword, and tried to attack with it. He sometimes... couldn’t do anything. Such attempts were considered a form of progress as well. After all, some of his strikes hadn’t harmed the stones at all, only Hadjar. He’d even cut his own arm off once. If this hadn’t been an illusory world created by the overlap of their souls, Hadjar would’ve died.

  Traves sometimes gave him a bit of advice. Hadjar wished his Master would stop doing that. To be a Master on the path of cultivation, it wasn’t enough for a person to have tremendous power and knowledge, they also needed to have a talent for teaching others. Alas, Traves didn’t have that. Most of his advice was more confusing than helpful.

  “Leave it be for now, disciple,” Traves advised after Hadjar failed once again. “Your experience and power are still not enough to combine the Internal Energy Technique with your knowledge of the Sword Spirit.”

  Hadjar didn’t know what the Internal Energy Technique was and, judging by Traves’ evasive refusal to go into more details, this concept had nothing to do with ‘internal’ and ‘external’ Techniques.

  However, it was precisely this piece of advice that inspired Hadjar. Such a blunt reminder of his helplessness, coupled with his memories of the fog wall and Sankesh, infuriated Hadjar. And it was this fury that ignited the fire of insight in Hadjar. After all, he didn’t necessarily need to merge the energy with his knowledge of the Sword because the Sword Spirit was already present within it. After all, it was in everything that surrounded Hadjar. If he hadn’t been a Wielder of the Sword, he would’ve never been able to understand that.

  After hundreds of unsuccessful attempts, Hadjar rose to his feet once more. The undisguised skepticism was clearly visible in Traves’ eyes.

  “Maybe I overestimated his talent,” the dragon muttered to himself. “Even the most mediocre disciples of a sword school in Darnassus would only need a hundred attempts to learn such simple stances, but he-”

  He abruptly stopped speaking.

  Wind spun around Hadjar. It ruffled his robes and strummed the ornaments woven into his long hair.

  Hadjar’s sword glided through the air more smoothly than a stork’s wing, almost like a piece of fluff floating through the air. Hadjar seemed like he was trying to caress someone’s cheek with his sword. At the same time, his actions were terrifyingly fast and sharp. He launched a swift, deadly attack.

  “Rustle in the Treetops!”

  Hadjar completed his fifth stance. To Traves’ surprise, not a single cut appeared on any of the stones. At the same time, however, the dragon clearly felt changes in the energy flows of the World River. They were immensely subtle, almost imperceptible, beyond the comprehension of even Spirit Knights and Lords, but they helped Traves realize that something had changed. He couldn’t understand what had changed, which both pleased him and... scared him.

  “Master,” Hadjar, tired but happy, turned to Traves, “please try to attack me.”

  Without getting up from his stone, Traves directed the will of a Wielder of the Sword at Hadjar. A blade of wind formed in the air. Swift and ruthless, it headed right for Hadjar. However, about twelve steps from its target, it froze, unable to keep going. It vibrated slightly, and then the silhouette of a black-and-blue dragon materialized around it, grasping the blade in its claws. Hadjar, still smiling, turned the hilt of his sword slightly. The dragon smashed the enemy’s blade to pieces and disappeared.

  “You combined the ‘Spring wind’, ‘Calm wind’, and ‘Falling leaf’,” Traves understood immediately.

  Hadjar nodded.

  “Why should I bother deflecting an atta
ck if I’ve already dealt with it?” Hadjar asked.

  Traves looked at his disciple as he practiced his new stance.

  By the Heavens! How wrong he’d been! Disciples of the Darnassus sword schools would’ve cried bloody tears in envy... Hadjar Darkhan was a true monster, someone capable of creating a stance that could stop Traves’ will while still at the pitiful level of a practitioner. Hadjar couldn’t see it, but the approving smile on Traves’ face became predatory.

  Chapter 378

  Hadjar felt the time he could spend on the border of their souls coming to an end. Before, he would’ve simply woken up, believing that it had all been just a dream.

  “You’re getting stronger, my disciple.”

  They were sitting at the top of the hill again. Hadjar was looking at Traves, who was looking up at the sky. It was strange, but he could’ve sworn he’d heard a slight note of sadness in the dragon’s voice.

  “Is that bad?” Hadjar asked.

  The dragon took a second to respond.

  “The stronger you get, the closer the hour when I name the price of my heart becomes.”

  Hadjar bowed low, pressing his forehead to the cold earth, and said:

  “Whatever task you give me, Master, I’ll gladly carry it out. Everything I have I owe to your sacrifice.”

  “Sacrifice,” Traves chuckled. “For hundreds of thousands of years, I lay in that cave, unable to even move. You helped me escape, disciple, from my own prison. And I made you pay to do so... There was no honor in what I did.”

  “You died for me, Master.”

  “Sometimes death is better than life.” The wind blew harder, ruffling the dragon’s hair and robes. “Your time has come, disciple. Leave me. Battle awaits you.”

  Hadjar didn’t have time to answer before he disappeared.

  Traves watched the even stronger gust of wind that followed turn the young man into fog, which it then carried up to the heavens. Traves was once more alone on the hill. He enjoyed the wind and the smell of grass.

  Hundreds of thousands of years... It was a white lie he’d told Hadjar in order to not frighten his disciple. During the millions of years that Traves had spent imprisoned in the cave, he’d managed to go crazy and claw his way back to sanity dozens of times. He’d invented entire worlds within his mind and destroyed them. He’d talked to himself, inventing a host of diverse personalities. He’d relived his life over and over again, always ending up at the same spot. He hadn’t been alive. He had been dead for eons. In exchange for his freedom, he’d awarded Hadjar with a fate that would lead him to certain doom. No mortal, no matter how brilliant they were, could handle such an immense burden...