Stone Will

by Kirill Klevanski

  While all the soldiers were consuming the healing brew, he continued to carry the logs on his shoulders.

  At some point, only he and Dogar were still running. The senior officer looked as fresh as he had in the morning, while Hadjar could feel the blood streaming down his back.

  Finally, he dropped the logs and started greedily gulping down the nauseating brew with the thirst of a Bedouin that had found a life-saving oasis. After the first cup, Hadjar began to feel his pain and fatigue melt away.

  The soldiers, watching Dogar’s new assistant drinking the poison avidly, turned away. They weren't very good at hiding their urge to vomit at the sight.

  “Good,” Dogar nodded, throwing off the logs as well. He washed his face with the brew, almost causing people to faint. It should be noted that this disgusted everyone, even the doctor.

  Hadjar, who saw it happen through the misty veil of his fatigue, appreciated the act of his superior and also decided to take a risk. He was unspeakably amazed when, after washing himself with the brew, he felt normal again and was even able to see without the whitish shroud and red circles floating everywhere in his vision.

  “Now, everyone moves on to the obstacle course, forward march! And if one of you lets a dummy break something, I'll do the same on the other side as well, for symmetry. And don’t even think about going to the doctor to have a nice nap!”

  Hadjar nodded and began staggering toward the dummies when a mighty paw fell on his shoulder.

  “Wait, assistant.” Dogar walked around the pyramid of logs and brought out two clinking pairs of overalls. Judging by their numerous, bulging pockets, they had been stuffed with weights.

  “They’re made of bluestone,” the senior officer handed one of them to Hadjar proudly.

  He sighed and took the overall with both hands, as he was too afraid to try and hold it with just one hand. Bluestone was a fairly dense material. One blue stone, the size of a teenager's palm, could weigh up to 88 pounds.

  It was a very heavy substance.

  The pockets of his overall had been stuffed full of blue stone. Hadjar didn’t know how the fabric could withstand such a weight. The silver sparks appearing on the cloth were definitely being caused by the blue stone.

  “Put it on,” Dogar was already dressed in his own overall. It looked like it weighed several times more than Hadjar’s. “While you were sleeping, I measured you and sewed it overnight. I hope it fits.”

  Hadjar imagined this bear using a needle and thread and smiled.

  The overall, surprisingly, fit him. Hadjar almost sat down on the ground, he was so shocked.

  “Let’s run.”

  And they did. They ran the obstacle course, over and over. For four hours. Without any rest.

  Hadjar endured when the dummies struck his legs. He pushed through it when they beat his back with clubs. He even managed to keep going when he took a wrong step and was hit in the groin. Fortunately, he wasn’t hit too hard, because a steel bar had been sewn onto this area of the overall. But when four dummies struck him all at once, Hadjar couldn’t keep going. He unsheathed the blade tied to his back (he’d tied it there so it wouldn’t get stuck on his belt) and began to run through the obstacle course with a sword in his hands.

  No, he wasn't going to cut the dummies. He just felt like he was in a real fight when he held a blade and it was easier to concentrate.

  The neuronet had already offered to show him the best route available. Twenty times. But he wouldn’t have been Hadjar if he’d decided to use an ‘outside’ force. The neuronet was just a small, helpful device and nothing more. He had to grow stronger and stop relying on it.

  Four hours later, Hadjar, quite literally, crawled over to the barrel of the brew. Only he and Dogar were still on the parade ground. The rest of the warriors, supporting each other, had trudged back toward the camp. Or, if they hadn’t been clever and strong enough, had been sent to the healer on a stretcher. Among the thousands of warriors, there were several monsters, who, after asking for permission, had gone into the forest.

  They’d looked tired but unharmed. That’s why Hadjar hadn’t been that surprised when he’d seen about two dozen people rushing into the thickets to hunt. After all, they could exchange the creatures’ energy Cores for Honor points.

  “Now, sparring.”

  Dogar wore fighting gloves and stood in the center of the parade ground.

  Hadjar took the sword in his trembling hands. It seemed even heavier than when he’d roamed the world in the guise of a cripple. But he was far more alarmed at the fact that no one except Dogar was standing on the sand.

  “Against you?”

  “Do you see anyone else?” Dogar replied with a question. “Hurry up, I just got warmed up.”

  The senior officer jumped around to stay warmed up, his landings causing something like an earthquake. Hadjar was praying to the heavens to spare him, but it was unlikely that the native gods knew or would acknowledge ‘The Lord’s Prayer’.

  Hadjar staggered, stumbled over to the sand and ‘stood’ in front of Dogar. And the battle started... Well, something started. Considering that Hadjar couldn’t even raise his sword properly, then... well, it was mostly a beating. In general, Hadjar ate a lot of sand that evening.

  Hadjar did not give up on training even at the healer’s tent, while everyone else was lying around and moaning. He closed his eyes (although, admittedly, he couldn’t have opened them even if he’d wanted to), assumed a lotus position, and began to absorb the energy of the world, pushing through the infernal pain, trying to open new channels inside his body.

  Hadjar didn’t see it, but Dogar looked into the tent for a second. He looked at his assistant appraisingly and nodded his approval.

  Three weeks passed like this.

  Chapter 40

  Status, Hadjar ordered after washing up.

  The sun had not yet painted the sky a vibrant red, but Hadjar was already hurrying to get to the parade ground. Dogar, putting on his pants as he went, ran behind him, cursing. He couldn’t allow his subordinate to come to training before him.

  He always started first and left last. Otherwise, what kind of commander would he be?

  Name

  Hadjar

  Level of cultivation

  Bodily Rivers (5)

  Strength

  1,6

  Dexterity

  1,95

  Physique

  1,55

  Energy Points

  2,3

  If someone found out that he’d progressed five levels in a mere three weeks... they wouldn't have believed him. And if they did believe it, they would have dissected him at once.

  “Senior officer,” Hadjar smiled, putting the fourth log onto his shoulders.

  “Admit it, Hadjar,” Dogar puffed, affixing six logs to his own back. “Your grandmother sinned with the Iron Bars, didn’t she?”

  “And did your granny sin with the Six-Legged Bear?”

  While people, reluctantly, trudged on toward the parade ground to suffer, Dogar and Hadjar arranged to race each other. They’d started this fun tradition a week ago. They ran for four hours and then compared who had run more laps. Dogar ran with weights slowing him down, but that didn’t spoil their fun.

  Hadjar was worried because he’d noticed that his results didn’t reflect his actual characteristics.

  People with more stat points than him couldn't stand for even an hour with two logs on their backs.

  The day started and continued on as usual. Hadjar was very glad about his body’s reaction to the Herculean workout. After each of these ‘workouts’, it became extremely easy to absorb energy and create new channels in his body. Endless sparring with various opponents also allowed him to advance along the path of the sword wielder.

  He’d managed to earn either the respect or the recognition of everyone in Dogar’s group in just three weeks. Nowadays, no one doubted that the seemingly frail Hadjar was worthy of his position and title.

 
To gain this recognition, he had had to defeat almost four dozen people in the sparring area. And he’d been fighting three opponents at once in the last few battles.

  “Senior officer Dogar!” A cry came from the edge of the parade ground.

  “Keep counting!” Dogar shouted.

  “I don't want you to just give me the victory.”

  “Officer, you’ve already lost six barrels of beer. And you don't even have enough money left to buy one cup!”

  “It doesn't matter, commander.”

  Dogar let out an odd laugh that sounded like a grunt as well and went over to the person who had called for him. Hadjar kept running, turning his face toward the wind. His legs were stiff, his back was bleeding, but he could feel how his soul and body were getting stronger. He wasn't the same as he had been just three weeks ago.

  Admittedly, nothing about him had changed, at least outwardly. This unusual elegance and almost inhuman refinement caused people to shake their heads in disbelief. Hadjar hadn't added a single gram of muscle. He still looked like the well-groomed son of a nobleman who had never picked up a sword in his life.

  “Officer Hadjar!” The bear’s roar resounded.

  Hadjar was surprised, but, after turning around, he immediately rushed over to his superior. As much as it was possible to rush with four logs on his back, anyway.

  The senior officer who had administered his exam was standing next to Dogar. He still wore a fur cloak around his shoulders, as if he weren't affected by the summer heat.

  Next to him, a guy in shackles was standing on his knees…

  “Nero?” Hadjar asked, clearly shocked.

  “Oh, Hadj, hello,” Nero smiled as if nothing had happened, and waved his hand. “I mean, that is, officer Hadjar.”

  “He said he knew your assistant, Dogar,” the senior officer continued the conversation. “So either take him into your group or send him to a penal battalion.”

  “And what did this private do?”

  The senior officer looked at his now former subordinate.

  “He wounded his fellow soldiers while on leave. Six people were sent to the healer because of him.”

  “I wish to say, in my defense, that they had molested a maid in a very unpleasant way.”

  “She was the employee of a brothel!”

  “It doesn't change the fact that they hadn’t been planning to pay her.”

  Hadjar sighed. He didn't know Nero that well, but judging by their conversation, the woman was the guy’s personal religion.

  “What do you say, Hadjar?” Dogar asked, straightening up and strapping a log that was about to slide off firmly back into place.

  “Are you having a bonfire?” Nero asked, observing the officers curiously.

  Because of the bushes in the way and his own posture, he couldn’t see the parade ground.

  “Were they even armed, Nero?”

  “Don’t insult me, Hadj. I mean… you’ve insulted me, officer Hadjar. Of course, they were armed! I even have a few scars to prove it.”

  Six privates... Nero is literate, too. I wonder why he didn't take the officer's exam.

  “He’ll be my responsibility, commander.”

  Dogar sighed and motioned for the key to the shackles. Naturally, the shackles weren’t ordinary ones, and a stone seal served as the key.

  “If I were you, I would…” The departing senior officer grumbled. “Get rid of him.”

  “He's your headache now, Hadjar. I'll be waiting for you at the training area.”

  Dogar turned and ran toward the parade ground.

  “Forty-three!” He shouted pointedly, his voice loud and clear, showing that he had continued to count the laps.

  Hadjar only cursed. He figured that he would owe the man another keg of beer by the end of the day.

  “Have you eaten?” Hadjar asked Nero, who was rubbing his wrists.

  “I'm not completely well-fed. Military prisoners, you know, aren’t fed very well.”

  “Have you slept?”

  “I slept alone, which was very sad. If it hadn’t been for the city guards, I would’ve clearly been able to salvage that night and spend it enjoying myself.”

  “Well then...” Hadjar nodded and brought Nero over to the border of the parade ground.

  He examined everything carefully and turned to Hadjar.

  “Listen, have you already thrown the key away? Why don't we just lock me back up again and send me to a penal battalion? I don't mind at all.”

  “Take a log and make sure to keep up,” Hadjar laughed.

  “Hey! I'm serious!” He shouted from behind Hadjar.

  After ten minutes, Nero was puffing along somewhere at the back of the column, and Hadjar was thinking about how great it would be when he visited the forest today. For the past week, he had had enough strength to hunt after training.

  In addition, he had been able to master the first volume of the ‘Mountain’ Technique. He’d spent all of his salaries on herbs (luckily, they were paid every week), and the camp healer had helped a little. Now, Hadjar's skin was much stronger. Although, for some reason, he felt that it was getting stronger with each new level of the Bodily Rivers, without any Techniques being needed.

  In a week, he had managed to save up half of the required sum by hunting beasts at the ‘Awakening of the Mind’ stage. 47 Honor points showed on his medallion, and a hundred points were needed to rent the second volume. It would be the second volume that would make Hadjar's body as strong as a tree.

  That evening, after dragging the groaning Nero on a stretcher to the healer’s tent (and in fact, just recently, he had been the one getting dragged there), Hadjar asked for permission to go hunting.

  “No training tomorrow morning,” Dogar, who had assumed the meditation pose, announced suddenly.

  “War Council?”

  “That’s it.” The senior officer nodded. “We will be marching in a week. The intelligence reports say that the nomads have come to the borders. I'll take you with me; you’ll observe, listen, and learn.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hadjar turned around and went into the forest.

  Thanks to the teachings of Robin, an old hunter from a village in the Valley of Streams, he moved through the forest as silently as a leopard, avoiding noisy twigs, passing by nesting birds soundlessly. His loose clothing also didn't make a single sound and the sword strapped to his back did not rattle.

  It was easier to run this way, but it was harder to unsheathe his sword.

  Hadjar got lucky, finding something promising in just an hour. He was on the trail of the Black Wolf. It was a beast at the ‘Awakening of the Mind’ stage. A large predator, it was almost five feet at the withers and about eight feet from the mouth to the tail.

  Hadjar touched the tracks. The ground was loose, damp and still slightly warm.

  The beast was no more than a quarter of an hour’s walk to the north.

  Taking out his blade, Hadjar followed the trail. As night fell in the forest, the twilight shadows began their crazy dance. They turned everything around Hadjar into a theater of confusion. Big creatures looked like small ones and the small ones had seemingly disappeared from the earth.

  The shadows hid those who sought their protection and exposed those who were too stupid to recognize their usefulness and thus ignored them.

  Hadjar respected the shadows and they reciprocated. He managed to approach the beast covered in black fur without being noticed. The wolf, immersed in its own hunting, had hidden in the shadows, not knowing that he’d become the prey long ago.

  The beast had known no worthy opponents in the forest, but suddenly, he felt the gaze of something terrifying upon him. He’d felt the attention of a being whose mere presence could’ve stopped his heart.

  Terrified, the wolf, looking like a black lightning bolt, rushed into the bushes.

  Hadjar didn't chase after him. He didn't swing his sword, launching a ghostly strike from it.

  Three people had blocke
d his path. Two of them had axes and one was armed with a sword. They didn't look like simple bandits. Despite their cheap, tattered clothes, their gazes were similar to those of the soldiers in the army camp.

  Without a doubt, these were soldiers standing in front of him.

  “I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my hunt,” Hadjar said quietly.

  “Yes, officer. Adjutant Colin asked us to convey his regards to you.”

  Chapter 41

  Hadjar didn’t need the help of the neural network to determine the levels of cultivation of these so-called “messengers”. All three were at the eighth level of the Bodily Rivers. For a simple practitioner, it would be almost impossible to defeat an opponent a step above them. Let alone three.

  But Hadjar didn’t even try to retreat.

  He swung his sword and began walking in a spiral.

  The soldiers smiled greedily, and with slight laziness, looking at their defenseless, at least in their eyes, victim. They did not care at all about the fact that Hadjar had defeated Colin in a fair fight less than a month ago. They, after all, knew that, at the end of the fight, the General had interfered and the adjutant hadn’t actually been defeated. Besides, there were three of them.

  Numerical superiority always made even cowards braver. It made them feel stronger. Being part of a herd gave them confidence.

  But they made a mistake.

  They decided to attack one by one.

  The most impatient of the soldiers rushed forward, swinging a double-headed battle ax. His level of cultivation allowed him to cut through the trunk of a century-old tree with ease.

  Hadjar certainly didn't want to try his luck. He stepped back smoothly, like a morning breeze. It was as if an invisible force had lifted him off the ground and dragged him about three feet through the air. Then Hadjar extended the hand his sword was in and lunged forward, the tip of the sword flashing as it caught a moon ray.