It had been foolish of Hadjar to think that, at least once in his life, he would get something ‘for free’. Even the heart had been granted to him under the condition that he fulfill the dragon’s last wish. Which he, admittedly, had yet to learn.
“But, of course, you won’t just give it to me, will you?”
“Anything that isn’t won through a struggle, earned with blood and sweat, is the same as a fine summer’s day. Easy come easy go. Only the things you acquire through your own effort are important in this world. This is a true cultivators’ way.”
Traves put his hand on one of the columns and everything was suddenly bathed in white light.
When Hadjar opened his eyes, he found himself standing in the middle of an endless body of water.
He looked up and saw that the sky was full of thick, dark clouds. The sun’s rays penetrated them, creating the illusion of golden pillars that were holding up the firmament which had been placed on the water.
“I warn you, Hadjar Duran!” The dragon’s voice thundered. “This world isn’t the fruit of any delusions on your part, it’s real. If you die here, your body will die in the world outside, as well.”
The distant horizon, which seemed like it was merging with the water, suddenly became a clearly visible black stripe.
“Win the right to be my disciple, Prince. Or die! A weakling won’t be able to get justice for himself, nor revenge for me!”
Accompanied by loud cries, the cracking of various weapons and rattling of armor, monsters rushed at him. They had huge fangs, were covered with fur… In a word, nightmarish.
Hadjar assumed a fighting stance.
“Scorched Falcon!” He shouted, and the sword in his hands flared with light.
He’d practiced the Fire Techniques poorly. Every time he’d trained and used it in secret, he’d heard an offended howl coming from the wind.
It had called to him, promising to give him more power than the fire ever could.
Alas, Hadjar didn’t know any Technique for the sword that harnessed the wind. He didn’t know anything except for the ‘Fired Sparrow’.
The enemy horde was approaching. There were so many of them that they had completely surrounded him, taking up all the available space. They were all a different height, had different physiques, wielding different weapons, but they were similar in one respect. Each of them was at the third stage of the ‘Bodily Rivers’.
“I’d love to have some music right about now,” Hadjar sighed, adjusting the strap that kept his long, black hair tidy and out of the way.
The unstoppable avalanche of monsters seemed to fill the world as far as the eye could see. The sky was no longer reflected in the water, it wasn’t even visible because of the thousands of bloodthirsty foes.
[Does the host require a soundtrack?]
Damn, of course! If the neural network could reproduce text-based information from the database, then why not information based on sound, as well?
“How many tracks do you have in your memory?”
[Number of audio files: 17200]
It was so simple... In fact, a person would never forget anything either, they just couldn’t use the stored information immediately.
The neuronet didn’t actually have a ‘database’, only access to Hadjar’s memory.
The monsters approached.
Hadjar could hear the slaps of their legs repeatedly hitting the water and the clanging of their armor.
A list of different songs from many time periods and peoples popped up before his eyes.
An involuntary smile appeared on his face.
Well, it’d be rather ironic.
He chose the song ‘Fortunate Son’ by ‘Creedence Clearwater Revival’.
Hadjar heard this once foreign language in his head. Gods, he wasn’t aware that he’d missed it so much.
He swung his blazing blade and met the incoming swarm of enemies with a roar that shook the sky.
Chapter 51
“Are you sure you used the potion correctly?” A quiet voice coming from the foliage said.
“Yes, I’m sure!” A second voice answered.
“Then why is this... ‘Knocked out guy’ still awake?”
The man pointed at Nero, who was still sitting near Hadjar’s tent with his sword in his lap. He kept staring straight ahead, sometimes changing his posture and stretching his arms to stay awake.
“I have no idea,” the second voice snapped in response. “Could Colin have given us the wrong potion?”
“But everyone else has fallen asleep,” the first voice pointed out.
“What are we going to do?”
Silence. Apparently, the man who’d spoken first was thinking hard. On the one hand, the tent he needed to get into was being guarded by someone, on the other... The adjutant had promised to pay them a huge sum. The gods would’ve been angry at him and taken his good luck away forever if he’d refused such a chance.
They would be paid a dozen gold coins for the life of an officer who was only at the level of the ‘Bodily Rivers’.
For a practitioner at their level, it wasn’t that easy of a task, but still doable. Especially if they worked in pairs.
“He’s just a soldier,” the first one said finally. “We’ll kill him and ask Colin to pay us more.”
Silence again. They were probably nodding at each other in agreement.
Nero had suspected something was wrong from the very moment the moans around him had subsided. It would’ve been normal for the carnal pleasures to come to an end in a couple of the tents at the same time. But in a hundred... There was clearly something wrong here.
His suspicions were confirmed when two men came out of the darkness. Wrapped up in black cloth, they kind of looked like mummies. The visitors were silent, almost invisible. Nero saw only the white squirrels which were reflecting the torchlight.
Soon, the torches went out as well.
As if a strong wind had come through and extinguished the flames immediately.
Night fell onto the clearing, but before that happened, Nero had managed to see an emblem on the cloth of the two people. Crossed axes. This meant that the members of the Ax Clan had infiltrated Dogar’s camp. Assassins. It had probably worked in their favor that this particular camp was so far away from the others.
“You should think three times before taking the next step,” Nero said calmly, not even getting up from his chair.
“Get out of here, soldier,” a voice hissed in the darkness. “Or we’ll take your life.”
The clan members weren’t idiots. Nobody had promised that the slippery adjutant would pay for this soldier’s life as well. And the Axes never killed for free. They took only those lives which they’d been paid to take. But in this case, they would make an exception.
There was an obstacle on the path to their goal. The obstacle was stupid enough not to heed their sound advice.
“The only ones who will lose their lives here are those who dare to touch this tent,” Nero set his aura free. The two Axes were struck by the power of a practitioner at the ‘Formation’ level.
Nero had never had friends... All his life, he had watched others laugh, play, go everywhere together, get into trouble, get out of it, freak out, and then discuss their adventures afterward.
He had always been alone.
When he grew up, he was able to brighten up the crushing emptiness of his everyday life with the help of women. He loved women. He loved their bodies, their souls. He loved them deeply and with true warmth. But he didn’t have anyone to discuss his triumphs with or even just joke around with.
He had no one he could rely on in case of trouble. There was no stalwart person in his life. Someone he could trust the same as he would himself.
He got used to it.
He convinced himself...
That women were all he needed to give his life meaning.
But now he had a friend. He was as reliable as a rock. Nero had probably looked for a friend all his l
ife, but he could never have imagined that he would find one in the army.
That’s why, even if the whole of the Ax clan came, or even one of the gods personally came down from Heaven, they would all still have to fight Nero.
Because Nero didn’t doubt that Hadjar would have done the same for him. That if Nero had been in trouble, Hadjar would’ve fought against the whole world.
“Go away or I’ll send you to your ancestors.”
The Axes simply unsheathed their narrow, long blades in response...
Nero rose and gripped the handle of his sword with both hands. A bloodthirsty grin appeared on his face. He'd been waiting for a fight for a long time.
***
All of Hadjar’s attacks made a tongue of flame shoot out of his blade. He stood on a hill of bloody, dismembered corpses. Hundreds of butchered monsters lay under his feet. Thousands more were still climbing up to try and end his life.
Their black blood had long since defiled the clear water. The phantom world gradually plunged into darkness. The small sparks of light that sometimes happened as his blade struck against armor or other weapons seemed as bright as the stars.
Another enemy got close. Hadjar still didn’t use the Technique. He didn’t send out the ‘Fired Sparrow’. He used only the flame itself and the fact that he was ‘One with the Sword’. He chopped, sliced, slashed and stabbed...
His blade struck true, adding a new body to the growing mound of corpses, even as he broke the enemy’s sickles, spears, swords, and other weapons as they attacked him.
Hadjar dodged the inept spear thrust of a pig-like demon easily. With a single swing of his blade, he cut off its head and turned around, breaking three more enemy blades with a follow-up slash.
He spun tirelessly, moving smoothly and quickly. His sword multiplied, creating illusions. Hadjar seemed like he wasn’t using just one fire blade, but several of them at once.
The monsters didn’t stop their assault. Many of them died, but the rest continued to climb up over the bodies of their brethren.
Hadjar didn’t know how long he could hold out. But he knew that he would die standing on a mountain made up of thousands of his enemies’ dead bodies.
A bloodthirsty grin was on his face, reflecting the fiery flashes of light.
***
A faint shadow flashed through the darkness. Nero casually swung his blade, which seemed to ignite some sparks. The dagger he’d blocked fell to the grass and the sparks ignited the nearest torch.
The two assassins were circling Nero like hungry dogs. But he didn’t take even a step away from the tent. He clutched his sword tightly, confronting his opponents fearlessly.
They struck simultaneously. They were experienced killers, accustomed to working in pairs.
One of them aimed for Nero’s femoral artery with his dagger, and the second one—for his central vertebra.
Nero was ready.
With surprising ease, considering his build and weapon, he... soared into the air. It was almost like what Hadjar had done during the battle with the Emerald Wolf.
While in the air, he swung his blade overhead. A blue glow appeared around it. Then Nero cried out: “The Giant’s Hand!” The sword descended sharply and a ghostly, giant hand came out of its blade. Instead of fingers, it had five sharp blades.
It nailed one of the attackers to the ground, plunging him to the bottom of a pit that was at least a yard deep.
Nero landed on his feet easily, then turned to break the enemy’s dagger that had been aimed at his belly, but...
He heard only gurgling and wheezing. Looking around, he saw the second killer’s body. He was twitching, having terrible convulsions, and clutching at something around his neck.
The white kitten jumped off the dead body silently. But now she was white and scarlet.
Azrea’s paws and mouth were stained with blood.
She hissed in the direction of the enemy she’d defeated and sat down next to Nero. She looked at him, meowed, and extended her paw.
“Oh, no,” Nero grunted, dropping back into his chair. “I’m not Hadjar, and I won’t coddle you. You stained your paws, so you’ll wash them yourself.”
Azrea mewled indignantly and began to rub her paws on the grass.
Nero sighed wearily. He hoped that there would be no more killers coming for Hadjar tonight. However, these assassins hadn’t been a real threat, only being at the third stage of the ‘Rivers’. Apparently, Colin hadn’t sent them to kill Hadjar. He’d just wanted to make his enemy a nervous wreck before the fight.
Nero had spent a quarter of his power to execute his Technique.
“Hurry up, my friend,” he said, seemingly addressing the tent, and began to clean and sharpen his sword.
***
The mound of bodies had doubled in size by now, but the enemies kept coming. Hadjar was bruised from head to toe. He was breathing heavily and could barely see anything. His vision was covered with a purple shroud and his legs kept slipping on his own and the monster’s blood.
He lowered the flaming sword. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. How many swings could he manage? Five? Six? Obviously no more than ten.
But there were still lots of monsters left, far more than he could handle.
It had been foolish to think that he could complete the Heaven Soldier’s test while still being a practitioner at the ‘Bodily Rivers’ level.
Another pig-demon climbed the mountain. Hadjar could barely muster the energy to swing his blade and cut off the monster’s head. When it came off, Hadjar snarled in pain and anger.
His back felt like it had been burned with a branding iron.
He could only turn around to see a giggling pig shoving a spear into his side.
With an animal roar, Hadjar grabbed the spear, and at the same time, felt more burning pain. Another monster had landed a hit with its spear. Then another one, followed by one more spear, then a second one...
Hadjar stood there, with five spears sticking out of him, and dozens of demons already climbing up the hill manically, thirsting for his blood.
“I’m not going out alone!” Hadjar growled.
There wasn’t even a shadow of doubt or fear in his gaze. Only inflexible determination and will.
“The Scorched Falcon!” He shouted.
With a loud ‘Hah’ a bird the size of a sparrow shot out of his blade. But it was bright and hot enough to scorch the battlefield. It devastated a whole section of the sea of demons. But it was only a small part, which was immediately filled in by the oncoming horde.
Hadjar stood ramrod straight, clutching his sword.
As the enemy blades struck him, he was no longer breathing.
He died on his feet.
***
“Frankly, I’m surprised.”
Hadjar opened his eyes and sat down abruptly. He didn’t feel any pain. He wasn’t dead.
He was still in the center of the magnificent Palace. Traves was standing in front of him.
“Have I failed?”
“Why would you think that?” Traves looked at him differently now. With respect. “That test wasn’t meant to check your strength. The demons would have never stopped. It’s just like fighting against a waterfall—you can't beat it. Only overpower it for a moment, but no more.”
“Then what was the point? You said I would die if I lost.”
“And you haven’t lost,” the dragon shrugged exactly as a human would. “Do you know what the most important thing for a cultivator is?”
He pointed at his heart. “This.”
Then he raised his hand, pointing at his head.
“And this.” He turned to the column that had the image of the horde of monsters on it. Hadjar could now discern that the figure depicted on it was actually him. He was the one standing on the hill of bodies. “If you had retreated, begged for mercy, tried to escape… I would have known that your spirit is weak. That you aren’t worthy of my heart. Then I would have let you die. Bu
t you didn’t give up. Didn’t retreat. Even when you died, you did it on your feet, without releasing your sword. Your heart is strong, and that is the most important thing. Everything else—your body, Techniques, knowledge—can be learned and refined. But the heart... The heart is almost impossible to strengthen. Either a person has it, or they don’t.”
Traves waved his hand and dozens of shelves, each holding a variety of scrolls, appeared in the hall.
“These are all my Techniques. There are exactly 600 of them here.”
“And...” Hadjar prompted him.
“You passed the test, so I’ll let you choose any two scrolls you want to use. Considering that you have to take the scroll for ‘The Path among Clouds’ meditation Technique, you can only have one more.”
“I feel like this is a trap.”
Hadjar rose to his feet and shook himself off, even though he looked very fresh and unharmed.
“You’ll see me three more times. If you pass the test each time, I’ll give you three more of my Techniques.”
“Only five? Out of six hundred! How should I choose? I’ll need to spend at least a week reading the descriptions. And a week more choosing…”
“The knowledge of what is in here will be with you at all times,” the dragon answered, turning away from Hadjar. He went to the shelves and took out one scroll. “Today you can pick up ‘The Path among Clouds’ and, to help you with your choice, I’ll give you what I think will best suit you. This isn’t my best Technique. I have never been strong with a sword, but a true cultivator should know a little about everything. And so, while meditating over the path of the sword in the Mountains of Eternal Wind, I got this.”
He held out a scroll titled ‘The Sword of the Light Breeze’.
“It’s too pathetic,” Hadjar muttered, but still took the scroll with a low bow.
Despite his grumbling, he was happy. After passing the dragon’s test, he was now one step closer to his goal. He’d get the chance to become a little stronger.
“The Sky Level!” Hadjar cried out in astonishment.
Stone Will Page 32