Stone Will

by Kirill Klevanski

  “Yeah. The Techniques at the Sky level will be useful to you until you become a Spirit Knight.”

  “Thanks,” Hadjar bowed even lower.

  The Palace began to flicker and disappear slowly.

  Hadjar was waking up. But before awakening, he heard a distant voice.

  “I fell for the trap you found me in because all my life I’d relied on someone else’s power, Prince. Think about that.”

  The voice disappeared. Hadjar opened his eyes.

  It was still nighttime, which meant he had enough time to learn the Techniques he’d obtained.

  Hadjar assumed the lotus position and continued his meditation. The night would be long and, in the morning...

  Before plunging into his inner world, he remembered dear Eina.

  Soon, she would rest in peace. He would make sure she finally got her long-awaited justice.

  Chapter 52

  That morning, two million soldiers gathered in the wastelands near the camp. They hadn’t come to see the duel between the officer and the adjutant. No. This sea of red standards, banners, shields, spears, and helmets was preparing for a march.

  The cavalry columns were at the front; the archers were located in the center of the formation; behind them was the light infantry, and the wagons were at the back of the procession.

  They stood in absolute silence. Only the wind, ruffling the fabric of their banners, made any noise.

  They were waiting for General Leen’s orders. She stood in the center of this ocean of soldiers. The soldiers had formed a circle which was big enough for two practitioners to fight in without harming anyone else.

  Dogar was also there. Dressed in his leather armor and with a crumpled steel helmet on his head, he looked even fiercer than usual.

  All the senior commanders had gathered there as well. They were curious about whether Hadjar would be able to actually follow through with what he’d said he would do to Colin, back at the War Council.

  Next to them, Nero stood, holding the sleeping white kitten. Wearing heavy armor and with a massive sword attached to his belt, he watched an inconspicuous old man. Who lets him enter the camp? But, apparently, the personal servant of the General of the Spring Town garrison had his ways.

  The old man in black clothes kept his eyes on the improvised arena. Sometimes he would look over at Colin proudly.

  The adjutant, who was also wearing armor, was warming up with the blade. He made rapid attacks, cutting through the air furiously, all the while moving on the sand more easily than a swan through the water. His feet didn’t even leave marks on the sand, just kicked up dust into the air.

  “He’s late,” Dogar said, watching the shadow of a spear stuck in the ground.

  The duel had been scheduled for noon. However, a quarter of an hour had already gone by past the designated time.

  “He’ll come,” Nero replied confidently, continuing to stroke the white kitten. “No doubt about it.”

  But Hadjar didn’t come to the parade ground even after they all waited another ten minutes.

  “Where is the bastard?” Colin laughed, continuing to swing his blade gracefully.

  His sword tip intercepted a sunbeam that had penetrated through the clouds and caught the reflection of a figure descending from a hill.

  “I told you,” Nero smiled.

  Holding a sheath that had been fastened with a rope to his belt, Hadjar walked calmly, as if he were out taking a stroll, rather than approaching a mortal enemy. He passed through the ranks of the army as easily as an arrow through a sheet of paper.

  The soldiers parted in front of him, doing it without any conscious thought. Something in this new Hadjar made them do so. Something in his walk. In his gaze. Something... annoying. Something bestial.

  They felt like dogs that had seen a wolf. They were afraid of it, wary of it.

  Hadjar wasn’t a wolf. He walked on two legs and wore clothes, albeit torn and frayed ones. And yet, when someone gazed at this handsome young man, a disquieting feeling would arise in their soul. An annoying desire to check the condition of their weapon, armor, and then run away.

  “You’re late, Officer Hadjar,” the General said in a stern tone.

  “Please forgive me, my General,” Hadjar bowed. “I was wrong about the time it would take me to break through to the ‘Formation’ stage.”

  The General tilted her head to the side. The wind ruffled her golden hair, which had been tightened into a bun. She held a very inelegant, absolutely masculine helmet in her hands. Hadjar didn’t doubt that, even while wearing it, she would still be enchantingly beautiful.

  “It’s impossible for a mere village bumpkin to completely overcome all the stages of the Bodily Rivers in just a month,” Colin snorted. “These are just the pathetic excuses of a farm boy. Don't listen to him, Gene-”

  Hadjar’s aura, which had suddenly been unleashed, didn’t allow the aide to finish his mocking diatribe. Circles similar to ones formed when a stone is thrown into calm waters spread across the sand around his feet. The wind was turning into a whirlwind and it seemed like the air had gotten a bit heavy.

  The soldiers standing nearby that had a lower level of cultivation began to breathe harder.

  “Excellent, officer Hadjar.” the General nodded. “And yet, that does not give you the right to violate the rules of the duel.”

  “I beg your pardon, my General,” Hadjar repeated.

  Leen thought for a second.

  “According to the rules of the duel, you’ll fight until one of you surrenders or until one of you is seriously injured. The adjutant may attack three times without Hadjar retaliating. That is the punishment for your lateness, officer Hadjar.”

  “Three attacks?” Colin chuckled mockingly. “One is enough. But, my General, may I say something before we begin?”

  Leen just waved her hand and Colin continued, “Every time I see this officer, he's disrespecting the Royal army and the nobles. This behavior is unacceptable! He is nothing more than a weed, a weed stealing the sun destined to go to more deserving flowers! Such behavior… no, such weeds must be eradicated immediately!”

  “What do you mean, adjutant?” Leen asked, adjusting her creaking saddle.

  Her horse snorted and wagged its tail, chasing away the bugs that had been attracted to its heat and sweat.

  “I'm asking you to let us fight to the death!” Colin said, looking like a triumphant and glorious warlord.

  He straightened his back and lifted his chin toward the sky, frozen in the pose of a man who had just defeated an army of demons.

  “Have you gone insane, Colin?” Dogar shouted.

  The old man in black immediately became furious, “How dare you call the young master something so demeaning, you worm?” Nobody paid any attention to him.

  “Commander,” Hadjar bowed to his senior officer. “Let me accept this challenge.”

  The General turned to the most devoted of her commanders. Dogar had never let her down, so she completely trusted him. Perhaps that was the reason why Leen had sent the guy whom she considered to be promising to the ‘Bear’s’ camp. And maybe her instincts had been right.

  Someone of her rank had to make the decision regarding whether to allow a duel to the death, according to the military laws. So, Leen had to decide what to do here. She would most likely not be in any danger from Colin’s father, whatever she decided.

  She wasn’t the owner of a brothel, after all...

  The whole town knew that Larvie’s family had burned ‘Innocent Meadow’ down. People said that the fire happened because the hostess had had some information concerning the patriarch of the family—the General. But that was just a rumor. No one knew what had really happened.

  “Hadjar, are you sure?”

  “Yes, commander.”

  Dogar looked into the eyes of his assistant. As usual, he saw nothing but immense willpower and an unshakable determination within them.

  “You have my permission.”

 
; Hadjar nodded gratefully and turned to face his opponent.

  “General?” Colin turned to Leen once again.

  “You have my permission,” the General nodded without hesitation.

  The smile on the adjutant’s face was almost painfully wide. He took his favorite stance, reminiscent of a scorpion with its stinger raised above its head before it attacked. Wearing his high-quality armor and steel boots, he looked much more impressive than his counterpart.

  The east wind was blowing through Hadjar's clothes. Torn and old, they inspired nothing but skepticism and a bit of pity.

  “Seconds,” the General commanded.

  The old man walked up to Colin. He whispered something to his ‘young master’ and took the army medallion from him.

  It was impossible to wear the medallions during a duel. The army had to be consolidated and indestructible, not torn apart by internal conflicts. That was the reason why officers could fight in duels as ordinary people, but not as soldiers. The laws were quite contradictory.

  “You were late on purpose, right?” Nero asked as he approached Hadjar.

  “I did it so it would be easier to provoke him into a fight on my terms: ‘To the death’. He is not walking away from this.”

  Hadjar stroked the yawning Azrea. It was hard for him to believe in his friend's story. This cute, fluffy, warm lump the size of his palm surely hadn’t torn a practitioner apart. Even if he had only been at the seventh stage of the Bodily Rivers…

  However, the offspring of a tiger could never be just a normal kitten. Hadjar should not have forgotten what fate had placed under his care.

  What did Colin do to you?”

  “He killed a good friend of mine,” Hadjar removed the medallion from his neck. “She’d been so kind, naïve, and trusting. Fatally so.”

  “A girl,” Nero’s entire countenance darkened.

  He had a thing about females being harmed…

  “He raped her in front of her mother, slit her throat, and then burned her while she was dying,” Hadjar finished explaining.

  Nero didn't say anything else. He only moved to his ‘designated’ place, looking very gloomy. He clutched the military locket with such force that his fist turned white.

  “Are you ready to die, loser?” Colin laughed, circling his opponent.

  Hadjar did not reply.

  He only looked up at the boundless, blue sky.

  Was she looking at him right now? Were Senta and Eina waiting for their justice? Were they there at all, among the clouds in the azure sky?

  Hadjar wanted to believe that they were.

  He unsheathed his blade.

  “Begin!” The General ordered.

  Chapter 53

  Colin didn’t even intend to lunge forward. He let loose so the people around him could feel his power. It was the power of a practitioner of the Transformation stage of mortal form. The force of it was enough not only to create waves in the sand but also to scatter it as well, exposing the ground and rocks beneath.

  Some of the weaker soldiers staggered back. Many of them clutched their blades and began to desperately gasp for air.

  Hadjar met the wave of wind and sand with the calm of a mountain before the storm.

  It didn’t even reach his body as it flew in different directions, dispersing once it met the barrier that was the power of the commanders.

  Colin wasn't embarrassed at all. He'd have been very disappointed if the jerk he was going to humiliate had died from just being exposed to his power. No, he would kill him slowly. He would demonstrate all his skill so that, next time, no one would dare to get in his way. And then they would have a second General in their family.

  Father would be pleased, and Colin would finally get revenge on Leen for all the years of humiliation.

  She would scream and moan when he did everything he had dreamed of for so long…

  Colin rushed in swiftly. His level allowed him to move at the speed of a young сheetah. He had been standing ten yards away from Hadjar only a moment ago, and then he was suddenly within range, using his blade to attack him.

  Shrouded in black light, the sword turned into a Scorpion sting for a second. It was not as ghostly and ephemeral as last time. This time, it was clearly visible and could almost be felt.

  And yet, Hadjar tried not to block it, but to dodge it.

  He moved his left shoulder to the side, avoiding the sword point, but... It had been stupid to expect that he would be able to fully evade the strike of a practitioner at the Transformation level’s mortal form.

  It seemed like the sword hadn’t touched Hadjar. But then he felt a scorpion sting penetrating his chest.

  The strike was so strong that Hadjar was thrown into the air, flipped over several times, and then hit the shields of the soldiers standing around the fight.

  He rolled on the sand after bouncing off their shields.

  Colin, defiantly, moved the blade to his side and stopped, waiting for his enemy to recover.

  Hadjar was slowly getting back to his feet. For some reason, he remembered the lessons of South Wind.

  “Everyone fights in this world, my Prince. The fisherman fights the fish and the ocean, a blacksmith fights the fire and iron, the farmer fights the weather and the earth, but only the adepts fight their own destinies.”

  Hadjar stood up.

  “You forgot to take out your sword, peasant,” Colin chuckled.

  He didn't even think about defending himself. Anyone observing would be able to see so many mistakes in his stance that even a young man with a kitchen knife in his hand could’ve fought him.

  Hadjar took hold of his sword but did not even untie the ribbons from the crossguard, leaving it sheathed.

  “Are you afraid of cutting yourself, yokel?”

  Colin rushed in to resume the attack. The ghostly sting became even clearer and even manifested away from the blade this time. Now it was flying ahead of it, at a distance of a few palms.

  Hadjar saw all of it and realized what was going on, but for most of the other people observing the scene, what happened next consisted of only a few fragments of obscure images. At first, there was Colin, looking like a bolt of black, steel lightning, and then…

  Hadjar swung the blade hidden in his scabbard. The spectators made a slight noise for a second, then Colin slammed into the shields.

  “What the…” the adjutant was spitting up blood.

  He’d managed to spot a ghostly blue light and nothing more. It looked as if Hadjar had used his Oneness with the sword, but... had added something new to it. Something relating to the wind that was now blowing across the sand.

  But Colin’s servant and the others were much more concerned about the fact that Hadjar still hadn’t taken out his blade.

  “I'll kill you, freak,” Colin cried out, his eyes were crazy.

  A ring of black flames swirled around his legs. The Scorpion sting descended from the tip of the blade, across the hilt, and flicked against the adjutant's hands.

  This time, his lunge was faster than the previous one. Only a shadow flashed across the sand, and then there was a burst of fire, as Colin pressed his enemy back.

  Hadjar could only defend himself with quick strikes, each time moving a few steps back. It looked as if a dog had angered a bull and the bull had moved to crush the dog like a simple bug.

  At that moment, the spectators considered Dogar’s assistant dead and buried.

  They still thought so even after Hadjar, having found an opening in Colin’s relentless barrage of attacks, was able to move his body to the side and lightly chop Colin's knee with the scabbard. Colin was about to fall down, his pace slowed, and Hadjar, forgetting that he was a swordsman, punched the adjutant in the face.

  Colin stepped aside and, unbelievingly, spat out blood and a piece of his now broken tooth.

  How could this peasant worm of the Formation stage hurt his body at the Transformation stage? Had this worthless yokel found a mystical artifact in the woods? Well,
then it would be a trophy for Colin! An added reward for his victory!

  The adjutant assumed a new stance: his sword was in front of him and his feet were spread shoulder-width apart. He still resembled a scorpion, but now he mostly looked like a swordsman. Due to this, Hadjar realized that his opponent knew many stances of this Technique.

  His level allowed him to use more sophisticated Techniques as well.

  “Scorpion’s venom!” the adjutant shouted as he swung his sword.

  This time, it was Colin, not Hadjar, who sent out the illusion of a strike. It was not a slash, but a stinging thrust. Its black flame changed to green.

  At first, Hadjar had wanted to block it, but a sense of danger howled like a siren in his mind and he dodged aside as swiftly as he could. As he was rolling away, he managed to spot the flames as they hit the shields of the soldiers and... Began to eat away holes in them.

  The warriors panicked, but they calmed down when General Leen waved her hand to extinguish the poisonous fire.

  But her power didn’t affect the rags which had been serving as boots for Hadjar and were currently covered in green fire.

  Azrea meowed loudly but didn’t wake up.

  Demonstrating a high degree of self-control, Hadjar took a handful of sand, imbued it with his force, and threw it into the flame. One of his legs had been burnt so badly that green blood vessels and veins had appeared on it.

  The shoe from his wounded leg fell to the sand. Hadjar put the other one next to it.

  Barefoot and dressed in cheap clothes, Hadjar stood in front of Colin, who was wearing armor that was light but still offered great protection.

  “Draw your sword,” the adjutant growled.

  Instead of answering, Hadjar attacked first. His movements were slower than Colin's, however, they were... not only smoother but also more ‘correct.’ Where Colin had to make two steps, Hadjar made do with one.

  Where Colin invested too much power in every attack, Hadjar only used as much as he needed to.

  His prowess was made evident with every swing of his sword and scabbard. And despite the fact that the blade enveloped in green flames could easily overpower his strikes, the audience saw who the real swordsman was.