Stone Will

by Kirill Klevanski

  “The first stage of the ‘Rivers’…” The officer snorted with displeasure. “And you look scrawny. Will the wind carry you away?”

  “Only if I don’t have breakfast.”

  “Funny,” the officer nodded. “If you break your legs or arms, the army isn’t responsible. If you get cut and bleed out, the army isn’t responsible. If your guts fall out onto the sand…”

  “The army isn’t responsible.”

  “But we will provide a healer. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then throw your stuff away here,” the soldier pointed to a bunch of the same ‘weapons’ as Hadjar had—rusty swords, sabers, knives, daggers, even a couple of spears. All this had been dumped into one pile of scrap metal.

  Hadjar hesitated to part with the sword that he’d bought with honestly earned money. Even if it was rather bad.

  “It’s actually worth a bit of money.”

  “If you pass the exam, you’ll get a normal one. If not, privates also get something.”

  Hadjar didn’t like the sound of ‘something’, but seeing the officer’s unyielding gaze, he decided not to argue. He untied his sword and threw it on the pile, shuddering from the metallic rumble that ensued. A small piece of his blade seemed to break off.

  Well, he had been lucky enough to not encounter any animals on the way to town. Perhaps the sharpened dart had been a better weapon than what the merchant had sold him.

  There were about a hundred people at the parade ground, which was the size of an ordinary square. There were also several officers. A senior officer was present as well. He wore a white cloak made from a mountain tiger’s skin, which was a beast at the ‘Awakening of the Mind’ stage.

  Hadjar wondered if the officer felt hot under such a thick cloak. Or was demonstrating his high status more important than comfort?

  “Now that there’s exactly one hundred of you, we can start.”

  An officer with a truly great beard came forward. His beard reminded Hadjar of movie adaptations made based on Dumas’ work.

  “First, we'll test your strength. This part of the exam is a little different from what the ordinary warriors have to do. Four of you step forward.”

  Four people came up to stand on the sandy surface of the parade ground. There were three guys and one girl. It would be hard to call her frail or slim, but she didn't appear to be fat, either. Instead, the girl had a powerful build.

  Weights lay before them, instead of the metal tubs Hadjar had seen before. Stone weights. They were ridiculously reminiscent of the ones that the villagers in the Valley of Streams used. However, they were much smaller, which was also true for the people themselves. During the month he’d spent in the village, Hadjar had gotten used to being a man of ‘average height.’ And now he towered above all of them, looking like a veritable giant.

  The first examinee couldn’t lift even the smallest of the weights. He was immediately sent over to where the ordinary warriors were being tested. He asked for a second chance but immediately retreated as soon as one of the officers put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Among the first four people, only the woman managed to lift the lightest of the weights.

  The girl, after dealing with the first weight, immediately went over to the second one.

  She gave up only when she got to the fourth.

  The officers wrote something down in their scrolls and asked her to wait on the sidelines. The woman sank down on the bench made of boards, sweating and panting.

  The queue began to thin out pretty quickly. About twenty out of a hundred failed to lift the first weight and they were sent back. Both the people sent back and the officers supervising everything seemed disappointed in the results.

  How was it possible for people at about the same stage of cultivation to show such wildly different results? That’s because the stages were only a superficial measurement. Only if you dug deeper did the real differences become evident—talent, willpower and the effort put in.

  Finally, it was Hadjar's turn.

  He had been the last to enter the parade ground.

  Spitting in his palms out of habit, he went over to the first weight.

  He planted his feet, straightened his back and with a jerk... almost threw the weight into the sky.

  It must’ve weighed more than two hundred pounds, and not long ago, that kind of weight would’ve been an issue for him. This time, he picked it up a lot more easily than he’d expected, albeit with some effort.

  “Go on,” the officer hurried Hadjar along.

  The Prince approached the second weight. It was the size of a soccer ball, but apparently made from a different material than the weights he'd trained with before. Weighing about three hundred pounds, it became a serious challenge for Hadjar to overcome.

  Feeling his muscles straining so hard that his veins popped out, he first lifted it up to the level of his waist. After gathering all his strength and willpower, Hadjar raised the weight over his head and then immediately dropped it.

  Breathing heavily, he came up to the next weight, without waiting for the command.

  Four hundred pounds. It was an almost impossible task for his current body. And yet, he was still able to lift it. Well, not completely—he couldn’t get it above his head. Regardless, he’d been able to raise the weight to the level of his waist.

  “You have fifteen minutes to rest and then we'll check your dexterity and reaction time,” the officer instructed.

  While the rank and file warriors were setting up a portable obstacle course on the parade ground, Hadjar was staring at his trembling hands.

  What the hell was going on with him?!

  He had been sure that having one unit of strength meant he would be able to lift approximately 200 pounds. With the abilities he had, Hadjar shouldn’t have been able to lift the second weight.

  “Status,” he ordered.

  Name

  Hadjar

  Level of Cultivation

  Bodily Rivers (1)

  Strength

  1,1

  Dexterity

  1,3

  Physique

  1,01

  Energy Points

  1,7

  After reading the message several times, Hadjar didn’t find anything new that could explain his feat. Then he looked at the girl sitting a good distance away from him, the one that had been able to lift the third weight.

  “Scan.”

  Name

  Ariel

  Level of Cultivation

  Bodily Rivers (5)

  Strength

  1,8

  Dexterity

  1,5

  Physique

  1,99

  Energy Points

  2, 3

  Apparently, the neural network, which was constantly collecting information, had somehow managed to find the girl’s name out. She might have told someone her name, or it could’ve appeared in some scroll. Hadjar was always eager to get more information into the database so that he could increase the analytical abilities of his neural network.

  At that moment, however, he didn’t understand whether he was being an idiot, or something had happened to the computing abilities of the network.

  Why was the system that had worked so well thus far beginning to bug out?

  He felt that it must’ve had something to do with the heart beating quietly in his chest.

  “Continue!” the officer barked.

  Chapter 32

  The next test involved training dummies, which made Hadjar feel nostalgic. The dummies were positioned on the edges of a trampled, winding path. Each of the dummies was armed with a knife and red paint had been applied to the edge of each blade.

  “Your task is to get through the entire course without getting hit more than twice,” the officer announced. “The knives have been blunted, but if the blow is strong enough, you'll still get badly injured, which will have to be sewn up. Those of you who aren’t confident in your abilities bet
ter leave at once. What you've shown in the last test is enough to get you into the army as an ordinary warrior. You'll be able to repeat this exam next year if you’re nineteen years old or less.”

  The officer made sure everyone had time to think about the situation, but no one gave up. Those who'd reached the stage of the Bodily Rivers already saw themselves as future cultivators. And it was very difficult to become a cultivator without proper dedication and motivation. In fact, it was almost impossible.

  That meant all of the people trying out had enough willpower to not be tempted by a bird in the hand.

  “Well then, go ahead. This time we'll start from the back of the line.”

  The officer pointed at Hadjar. He stood up, a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be going last this time. He hadn’t had much time to rest.

  Hadjar dusted his clothes off and walked over to the obstacle course. While standing next to the course, the officers made several gestures with their hands. A dull, gray glow covered their palms and the dummies sprang into action.

  They spun at different heights. Some dummies aimed at the knees, others at the ankles, but the majority was targeting the chest and neck. Sometimes, they changed their speed or the direction of their movements. The mechanical bodies also went up and down in an effort to confuse the person running the course.

  Hadjar sighed and closed his eyes.

  He could use the neural network. If he asked for a hint, it would instantly determine the best route to take. The neural network would display the pattern and Hadjar would simply need to follow the proposed hologram.

  But it wouldn't be his, Hadjar's, own skill.

  He could have used the help of his neural network, as he’d done more than once during his training. But this time, he wanted to test himself. He didn't care about joining the army. Instead, he wished to see what months of training in the village had done for his skills and to test his new body.

  Opening his eyes, Hadjar went forward.

  What the audience saw had no logical explanation. Even the senior officer forgot about his glass of cold, diluted wine, and watched the examinee with a slightly open mouth.

  What could they have expected from a person trying to pass this test? Well, if the first dummy didn’t “hurt” the person, they were supposed to get through by jumping, dodging and falling down comically, all the while twitching like a crazy person. The audience clearly hadn’t expected to see what they were witnessing right now.

  Hadjar was walking along as calmly as if he were wandering along the lakeshore on a fine day. His long hair was fluttering in the wind and his loose, ragged clothes were buffeted by it.

  The movement of his legs was the only thing that attracted the attention of the people watching the testing process. Hadjar's feet were not ‘walking,’ but ‘floating’ on the sand, leaving barely visible footprints behind.

  “The Measured Footsteps Technique,” the highest-ranking officer whispered in amazement.

  He’d mastered it only a year ago and it was one of the reasons why he’d been able to move up the career ladder. ‘The Measured Footsteps Technique’ was nothing complicated: it was the simple ability to move without any unnecessary movements, as silly as that may sound.

  In fact, to master this Technique at a level before the Transformation stage, a practitioner needed to be very talented. Not at cultivation, but at the very essence of martial arts-battle.

  By all outward appearances, Hadjar was calm, but inside, he was almost groaning with the unbearable effort needed to maintain his concentration. Using all his senses, he monitored every movement within a radius of about three feet. Hadjar would foresee the attacks of the dummies and then take the single step he needed to avoid everything coming at him.

  This test was like playing chess against hundreds of people at once.

  That was what ‘The Measured Footsteps Technique’ actually meant. It wasn't just moving correctly (although that was a fundamental part of it), but the ability to react and think quickly. A focused and clear Mind was the main weapon of a martial artist.

  After five minutes of slow walking, Hadjar stepped out at the other side of the obstacle course. He examined himself and found only one red mark at the level of his ankle.

  His initial use of ‘The Measured Footsteps Technique’ had not been perfect. Hadjar's mind wasn’t in full sync with his body and that was the reason why the dummies had been able to hurt him.

  If the Master had gone through that course, the dummies’ knives wouldn't have even come close to his body.

  “You've passed the test,” the officer who’d explained everything earlier came to his senses and wrote something down in his scroll again.

  Hadjar sat back down. His legs and arms trembled slightly, so he closed his eyes and began to breathe evenly, absorbing the energy of the world. It wasn’t just suitable for cultivation, but for recovery as well. Some even said that true adepts didn’t need to eat or drink for years on end-they used only the energy of the world to sustain themselves.

  Hadjar didn't really believe it.

  Judging by the sounds, as well as the awkward attempts to ask for a second chance, a lot of the applicants hadn’t completed the task.

  As a result, when Hadjar opened his eyes, he saw that only half the people remained after the second round of testing. They were all smeared with red paint. Only one short, a thin boy had been left unpainted by the dummies.

  The proverb was correct—there’s always someone better. Hadjar was eager to compete, relishing the challenge, and he was glad to see someone could provide him with a goal to strive toward.

  “The next stage will be the last one,” the officer announced, while ordinary soldiers were taking the dummies away and cleaning up the parade ground.

  They created some sort of arena in the sand and set up some stands with a variety of weapons along the perimeter of it. These weapons were much better than the one Hadjar had used for the last month but much worse than the ones the Master had owned.

  However, comparing the Royal Palace and a mobile army camp didn’t make any sense.

  “We will pair you up for sparring. You’ll fight until first blood or until one of you gives up. But remember that victory is not the main goal. Your task is to demonstrate all of your skills. There are twenty people left, and we’ll choose only five of the winners to become officers. So, even if you manage to defeat your enemy, but you do it simply and without showing any real skill, you can feel free to go and sign up as a private.”

  The examinees looked at each other. All of them were clearly ready to fight, determined to give it their all.

  “The first pair…”

  “The General!” the senior officer exclaimed as he fell to one knee.

  He put his fist against his breastplate and bowed his head along with the other officers.

  The examinees gave a low bow, bending forward almost a full ninety degrees.

  Hair fell over Hadjar's face as he hunched over. It hid his spiteful gaze.

  He saw a fragile-looking blonde woman. Her hair was in a tight, thick braid and she was walking beside two tall officers who were clad in heavy armor. Dressed in simple clothes, she only wore half-armor. Apparently, she’d taken off her neck guard, but had kept the gloves and a ‘lower corset’, which was like a metal skirt that reached up to the hips.

  Women being in the army was completely normal, so female armor had been invented long ago.

  The General wore a funny metal crown with three leaf-shaped spikes. The central spike covered her slightly snub nose, and the other two framed the sides of her beautiful, oval face.

  The General was beautiful enough to break even a cold, withered heart. And, apparently, despite her seeming fragility, she was amazingly powerful. In her right hand, she held a siege spear that was almost twice her height.

  But the beautiful woman in armor and with a General's seal hadn’t been the one to draw Hadjar's attention.

  The man swaggering next to her, smirking con
fidently, was who Hadjar focused on. A man whose face he would never forget.

  He was the one who’d burned the ‘Innocent Meadow’ down. The one who’d killed Eina, Senta, and everyone else that Hadjar had lived with for the last five years.

  The son of a local chief General.

  “You can't run away this time,” Hadjar growled faintly, dropping his gaze.

  A half-mad smile was on his face as flames surged up from within the dragon heart.

  Chapter 33

  The General greeted the soldiers with a gentle nod. She was immediately offered a fairly comfortable, hand-carved chair. After placing her spear beside her, she lowered herself into it, and with a wave of her hand, allowed the examination to continue.

  She looked calm, confident and imperious, as befitted a General. Seeing a woman in such a high position was unusual to Hadjar, but wasn’t anything new to the locals.

  And yet, he wasn’t looking at her, but at the son of the official-bribe-taker. The man looked the same as when Hadjar had last seen him. Except for the long, straight scar that now marred his cheek. He constantly tried to cover it up, but it was quite difficult to hide such a mark.

  A white, thick line ran down his handsome face, and then further still, hidden under his expensive clothes. They were worth a lot more than what the General wore. This was probably why her son looked at the General with smug superiority whenever he was sure she couldn’t see him.

  He clearly felt that he deserved to be the one commanding everything.

  The first pair faced off in the makeshift arena. They were the girl, Ariel, who’d managed to pass the second trial by the skin of her teeth, despite being the most rested, and the undersized young man, who’d done the best of all of them.