“Lida…” Hadjar’s voice sounded hoarse.
“Well then!” The girl sighed in mock annoyance, jumping off of him again.
She removed the stone slabs one by one with the help of ropes and Hadjar, his back creaking, stood up. He took a deep breath and began to warm up.
He suddenly realized that he wasn’t much shorter than Robin. Hadjar only came up to the man’s chest, but that still meant that the Prince was just shy of six and a half feet tall.
Haver would’ve been proud... He'd always dreamed of having a tall son.
“I’m ready,” Hadjar said with a nod.
They went to the square. About once a week, the villagers measured their strength there. The locals checked how much they’d cultivated since last time when the guys weren’t just showing off for the girls, that is. It was spring, after all—everyone was looking for a mate.
They walked along one of the central streets. ‘One of?’ you might ask. It being a village, usually even one street would be a point of pride. But don’t forget that the village was small only by the standards of this world. There were, in fact, almost 150 houses in it, and several thousand people lived there.
Hadjar understood how lucky it was that one of the many hunting squads had noticed him. And that the village chief—a thin old man— had allowed a stranger to stay in the village.
The guys were already at the square, warming up. Compared to them, the slender, elegant Hadjar looked like a reed amongst trees.
Every single one of these young men looked like they could easily crush Hadjar with their bare hands. None of their physiques were inferior to Robin’s, and many of them were even more muscular than him. In any case, each of them could have, without any ‘Photoshop’, been on the front page of a fitness magazine.
“Look, Bull’s here,” the female spectators laughed.
“Hadjar!” The young men, who sometimes joined the Prince when he trained, waved to him.
He waved back.
Various boulders were rolled out to the central square. A handle had been carved in each of them, making them look like abnormally huge kettlebells.
These kettlebells varied in size—from ones as large as a basketball to ones that were a yard in diameter.
Hadjar hadn’t seen anyone lift the biggest one yet. There wasn’t an adept here that could hold three tons of weight above their head and stay upright.
“Let’s begin!”
Robin went first.
Single guys usually tended to be the ones lifting the stones, as it was something of a local ‘courting’ ritual. And, besides his granddaughter, Robin was alone—he had lost his family in a forest fire.
At first, he picked up the boulder weighing forty-five pounds, and then he grunted and went for the one which was ten times heavier. Groaning, he put it on his shoulders, and, with a loud “Eh!”, he lifted it pretty high up and then dropped it to the ground immediately.
The crowd applauded.
The atmosphere was competitive but very friendly.
After the old man went, the other guys approached the stones one by one. Some of them lifted two hundred and twenty pounds, while others lifted three hundred and thirty pounds. Only a few of them could match Robin. And it was only later that two young men came to the fourth row of the stones and lifted the ones weighing six hundred and sixty pounds. The girls rewarded them with especially enthusiastic applause and exclamations.
Finally, it was Hadjar’s turn.
He spat on his palms and went to the second row, where the stones weighing 220 pounds were placed. Groaning under the tension, he lifted the boulder and put it on his shoulders.
He was sweating buckets and gnashing his teeth, but, with a loud “Hoof!”, he lifted it pretty high up and then dropped it to the ground immediately.
The observers... laughed and applauded a little.
The locals believed that a boulder from the second row could be lifted by a ten-year-old boy. Hadjar was supposed to begin with the third row.
Of course, none of them knew that Hadjar couldn’t have held an empty basket a fortnight ago. So, the speed of his progress and recovery was already abnormal by his standards.
The Prince’s eyes were full of joy when he looked at his hands which were trembling from the exertion. He felt alive again.
“You are recovering quickly, like a young dragon,” Robin gave the Prince a pat on the back. The old man didn’t know how right he was. The fact that a dragon’s heart was actually beating in Hadjar’s chest made him ... What did that make him, he wondered. He needed to ask someone who knew more about these things.
“But I’m not strong enough yet.”
“Well, lifting the stones won’t make you stronger. You need something else.”
Hadjar turned to the old man.
“What are you talking about, Robin?” the Prince asked.
Robin glanced at the guys standing behind him. They looked at each other and then nodded and smiled kindly at him.
“I’ve talked to the others—we’re going hunting soon. It’s not that we need an extra pair of hands, but you strike me as a smart guy. Would you like to join us?”
Join the local hunters? The hunters that kill animals which aren’t lower than the fourth stage of the Awakening of Power? Animals that can crush the boulders from the first row with just a single blow of their paws?
“Of course I would!”
Chapter 24
‘We’re going hunting’ meant—get ready to go right away.
Hadjar and the old man returned to the hut. Immediately, Robin went to get his equipment: a light chain armor and a strong hunting bow. It wasn’t as big as a military one, but it was bigger than the bows used by the nomadic tribes near the southern border.
Hadjar paced near his bed for some time. All of his possessions amounted to his worn clothes, which he’d gotten from Senta, and what he’d gotten from South Wind. Unfortunately, the book had been destroyed by the river water and Hadjar couldn’t take the risk of using the talismans without knowing what they did, why they did it and how.
The map had miraculously survived. It didn’t seem as simple as it had looked at first sight. He’d also kept the seal for the carriage. Hadjar didn’t know why he had kept it. Maybe as a way to remember someone dear to him.
“Here you are,” Robin threw a chain armor and a bunch of darts on the bed. “My son used to wear this.”
The old man didn’t flinch at these words. Not that he was a heartless monster, just... Life here was like that. Common people rarely lived to be as old as him. There were very few resources available, and a lot was required to overcome the threshold and advance to at least the Bodily Rivers stage.
Hadjar wore a simple shirt with the chainmail over it. It was a little too big for him, but it was better than being gored by a boar.
Hadjar belted his wide strip of leather with a metal plaque, armed himself with darts and left the living room. A crowd of more than twenty people had already gathered on the street.
Hadjar knew some of them, but he rarely hung out with them.
He wasn’t particularly sociable.
“Today we shall go to distant streams.” Robin began talking first.
They were standing right in the middle of the street. The old man drew a small map on the sandy road by using a long stick.
“Iriy saw deer traces there while he was with his brothers.” A mighty guy with scars all over his face came forward.
“They went to the north, to the Depression of Waterfalls.”
“Is this herd big?” Someone in the crowd of people that had gathered around asked.
“There are two hundred of them there, or even more than that.”
Whistles and whispers were heard.
“We’ll capture the weakest ones,” Robin told the people reassuringly. “We won’t be fighting the Alpha.”
Hadjar shuddered.
Fight the Alpha? It was a beast as strong as a Heaven Soldier...
“We'l
l take enough food for two weeks with us, track them down, and then count the number of those whose level is greater than the Awakening of Power.”
“Do we need traps?”
“No, we don’t.” Robin pulled at his beard with a fist. “Luke’s squad saw boar tracks. If they fall into the traps during their migration—the whole forest will ring out with their squealing.”
“Shall we get a move on?” Iriy asked.
“Yes, let’s get going,” Robin nodded.
And so, a little more than two dozen villagers, armed with inferior armor and swords, went hunting. They weren’t going to hunt simple animals but those that had the Core of Power. Hadjar hoped he could get a hold of at least one beast—they could easily be sold in the city.
“Are you afraid?” Robin gave Hadjar another pat on the back.
He was about to answer ‘of course’, but, surprisingly, he realized that he wasn’t afraid. His heart was beating as steadily as always, and he was overwhelmed with excitement.
“No.”
“That's right. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Always aim for the eye of the beast; and, please, don’t throw a dart if you aren’t sure you won’t snag the hide.”
“Why do you need the hide?” Hadjar asked for the sake of making conversation.
“We can keep some for ourselves and sell the rest.”
“Do you sell the hide to the inhabitants of the other villages?”
“Sometimes we do,” Robin answered while chewing a blade of grass. “But more often than not, we sell the hide to some wandering merchants. There’s this quirky guy from Spring Town. He’s a pipsqueak, but he knows all the trails in our forests. The most interesting thing is that he’s never gotten any splinters or even scratches. A lot of people from our village have been wounded by wild animals. Some have drowned in the swamp, some have tripped on rocks or branches, but nothing’s ever happened to this guy!”
Hadjar looked at his chainmail once more. Well, now it was clear how the village had gotten their hands on some. It should be noted that the baths, mills and water wheel on the creek were the only benefits of civilization to be found in these parts.
Hadjar was very interested in the fun facts that the merchant might know, and he wondered when he would be coming around again.
“When will he be visiting again?”
“In a month.”
A month isn’t such a long time.
Hadjar paused and began to ponder this. Robin looked at him, nodded and went over to the other hunters.
They approached the largest and most beautiful house in the village. It looked like the place where Hadjar had grown up.
One would think that the chief lived there, but Hadjar had already seen the house of the local governor. He lived near the river, in a hut that was even smaller than the one belonging to Robin.
The villagers followed a simple logic, according to which the best things were to be shared. It was some sort of medieval fantasy communism.
A fat woman came out of the big house, which they used as both a warehouse and ‘club’ because they would hold feasts and ‘wedding dances’ there sometimes. She asked about the supplies they needed and sent several hunters inside. They pulled out large, stitched leather bags. Then, everyone was given a smaller bag, filled with jerky, crackers and a jar of water.
Everything was evenly distributed among the people. The total food supply should be enough for two or three weeks.
Next, Robin was given another bag full of different powders as well as leaves and pills. He would take special care of the ‘kit’. The lives of his people depended on it.
“Hadjar!” He heard a familiar voice behind him.
The Prince turned around and saw the black-haired Lida standing before him. She was holding a basket and hurrying toward the stream to wash clothes and exchange gossip with the others.
“Yes?”
“Don’t forget that you promised you would play for me.” And, after saying what she’d come over to say, she proudly sauntered off.
She looked like a duchess!
How amusing.
Hadjar hurried along behind the group. They went out to a high stockade (there was even a watchtower there, and people were stationed on it and wishing them good luck). Then they came to the edge of the forest.
The village was located on the bank of a stream which resembled a proper river. They were surrounded by mountains. Perhaps that was what had saved the village and allowed its people to live in their own little world, cut off from the rest of civilization.
The hunters stopped, pulled off the rags on their belts and began to fashion their makeshift shoes. Hadjar did the same. They had no boots. They were useless in the woods. They would only do person harm since they were made of heavy, tanned skin; they were smelly and made too much noise. They would scare away all the animals.
Robin stopped to pray after he got dressed.
An idol in the form of a horned bear stood at the gate. A bowl of honey and some berries were offered to it.
With the preparations finished, the squad of hunters entered the endless forest.
Chapter 25
When jogging, the average person might cover three, even six miles. Then they take a taxi home. Or they might do a lap around their local park.
However, back on Earth, there are legends about African and Native American tribes whose inhabitants can run for weeks on end. Not too quickly— just a little faster than their usual walking speed.
The locals, whose bodies were as hardy and powerful as young oaks, did things a little differently. They ran for many hours, at the kinds of speeds cars in cities managed. All in absolute silence. They were like the wind as they rushed beneath the canopy of trees.
Naturally, at first, everyone kept looking askance at Hadjar. He charged through the forest like a rhino—almost knocking the trees down with his forehead. Then, using the navigation function of the neuronet (it looked like a ghostly arrow in front of his eyes) and applying his own understanding, he began to run more quietly.
By the evening of the first day, eliciting yet more shocked whispers, he made as much noise as a snake on the hunt. It was difficult to even sense him.
The people marveled at the wanderer’s talent. Hadjar only smiled to himself.
The Master had taught him a lot—he only had to remember it.
And the dragon heart beating in his chest was doing something to him. Hadjar didn’t understand what just yet, but he felt it.
In the evening, after running a distance that was inconceivable by the standards of a person from his world, but trifling by the standards of the local hunters, the squad stopped for the day. They climbed up to the second tier of the forest—below the crowns of the trees, but still not on the ground.
After they’d secured themselves to the mighty branches and ate a little of what they’d brought in their bags, the people fell asleep, still as silent as before.
Talking while hunting was seen as something only a complete layman would do. And so they talked rarely, and only by using various hand signs. Each of them knew their business well, and Hadjar just tried to keep up. Fortunately, thanks to his new legs and body, he found it easy to do.
A couple of times, he was pleasantly surprised by the messages of the neural network informing him about the scant increases in his physique.
After everyone fell asleep, Hadjar checked whether the straps were holding him tightly, closed his eyes and concentrated.
Once again, he felt the particles of energy in the air. As usual, he reached out toward them with his mind and ‘soul’ and began to breathe them in and out just like an ordinary person would air. With each breath, the nodes in his body would burn slightly. When the fever became unbearable, Hadjar held his breath and, mustering all his willpower, pushed the energy in the direction of the sinciput—the last point in his body that was still closed.
The power began to shift around like a hot whirlpool and pierced the ‘gates’ that had been ‘closed�
�� since birth. Thus, Hadjar was able to break through to the last, ninth stage of the ‘Bodily Nodes’.
To reach this stage by the age of nineteen was unimpressive, even by the standards of Lidus. However, thanks to the dragon, he was now less than a month old.
“Status.”
Name
Hadjar
Level of cultivation
Bodily Nodes. 9th stage
Strength
0.95
Dexterity
1.15
Physique
0.95
Energy points
0.8
Hadjar had changed the settings once again, deciding to display the steps he’d reached within the stages in numbers. The message took up less space this way. It looked like something from an augmented reality device but was still pretty annoying. That’s why Hadjar tried to use the neuronet as little as possible.
He was pleased with the increase in his stats and the fact he’d managed to progress to the next stage. He easily fell asleep.
The next four days followed a simple routine:
Run.
Halt.
Run.
Sleep.
Run.
Halt.
Then it all came full circle.
Any other group would’ve lost their minds by now, but the hunters, who’d covered almost a thousand miles in four days, had only warmed up. Finally, something interesting happened.
Robin gave the signal.
His upraised fist meant “Stop”.
They were in a small clearing.
The old man squatted down, ran his hand over the grass, and then made several hand signs.
“Herd. Nearby. Two hours. Run.”
One of the hunters came forward. He also used the hand signs that Hadjar had entered into his database beforehand, and could now ‘read’ easily.
“Ours?”
Stone Will Page 16