Land of Magic

by Kirill Klevanski

  “And now, descendant of Darkhan and the Dark Storm Clan.” These words showed that Helmer knew more about Hadjar than the latter would’ve liked. “Let’s talk about the price of my information.”

  “But we already-”

  “Oh, you mean that?” Helmer interrupted him and pointed at the fragment of the red stone. “To be honest, that was my payment for another deal. Or do you think that Ian Gorr was able to get the ‘Thunder God’s Manuscript’ and learn how to use it on his own?”

  With these words, the demon waved his hand and vaporized the fragment.

  “Fate itself has brought us together, Hadjar Darkhan,” Helmer’s smile became disgustingly pleased. “The Lord sent me to Dahanatan with one small task. Unfortunately, for obvious reasons, I can’t directly interfere in people’s lives. That’s why I acted through Ian, whom you so inconveniently killed. He was a greedy idiot, but very malleable. I would’ve prepared him well…”

  Helmer paused, waiting. He forced Hadjar to ask the question, who did so through gritted teeth:

  “Prepared him for what?”

  “For the tournament, of course! The Lord can sense that something will happen at the Tournament of Twelve that’s being held in Dahanatan in a few years that could threaten our Demon Parade. On top of that, it’s directly related to House Tarez. They’re suspicious, I tell you. They’ve been an eyesore to me for thousands of years. That’s also why I don’t like Darnassus, everything here is entangled in their web of intrigue. They’re like spiders, and I hate spiders, you know!”

  “What do you want from me?”

  They stared at each other. Even if he’d been given a million years, Hadjar couldn’t have described what it was like to have a staring contest with an ancient horror that could destroy the entirety of Dahanatan with a snap of his fingers. Maybe it was like having a staring contest with the Devil himself.

  “I don’t know.” Helmer laughed. “If I had clear instructions from my Lord, I would be able to destroy House Tarez while surviving the punishment of the World River. Unfortunately, the future is too vague and prone to changing. So, my price is simple, Darkhan: you need to take part in the Tournament of Twelve. Believe me, you would’ve done that even without my intervention. But now you know that I’ll come and claim my payment for our little talk someday.”

  A fog gradually enveloped Helmer. He melted into it. His figure became vague and indistinct. Before disappearing completely, he whispered:

  “Why don’t you feed your sword? It’s getting thin. Poor thing is starving.”

  Only Hadjar and Einen remained at the edge of the forest. And behind them, the wind ruffled the broken wings of the little fairy’s corpse.

  Chapter 465

  After Helmer left, Hadjar cleared his throat while clutching his chest. Though it had healed, the wound left behind by Ian Gorr’s lightning strike still ached. More than anything else, Hadjar now needed a new, powerful Technique for Strengthening the Body. Without it, he was unlikely to be able to fight on equal terms with the cultivators who’d grown up as the children of wealthy families from the capital and the surrounding cities, let alone those who’d grown up as part of one of the seven pillars of the Empire.

  “Are you okay, my friend?” Einen asked a little anxiously.

  “As much as I can be after getting hit with a Heaven level Technique.”

  With the help of his friend, Hadjar rose to his feet and, summoning the Black Blade to his hand once more, walked over to the fairy’s corpse. He didn’t trust Helmer’s words, since he felt that the demon had deceived him.

  The concept behind the word ‘demon’ back on Earth was very different from how the locals viewed it. Still, they had some similarities: a very eerie appearance, their animosity toward the gods, their monstrous power, and the fact that they always deceived people. They never lied directly, and were instead masters of understatement and half-truths. They lied without saying a single untrue word, and they did it so skillfully that any charlatan would’ve choked with envy.

  What Helmer had meant by ‘feed your sword’ was a mystery. It was only after he’d met the Tree of Life, which had predicted Hadjar’s death at the hands of someone who hadn’t been born, that he’d realized the futility of trying to puzzle out such statements. The longer a person tried to understand their true meaning, the more confused they became in the maze of their own guesses.

  When Hadjar reached the messenger of the gods’ body, he touched it with the tip of his blade. After waiting a minute, he initially thought that Helmer had played a bad joke on him, but then decided to try something else.

  Closing his eyes, he focused on the Black Blade in his mind. The sword was silent at first, but Hadjar didn’t give up. The sword he held in his hands wasn’t an ordinary blade. It was stored inside his own soul and, without even being a physical object, had the power of a Spirit level artifact.

  Increasing the pressure of his thoughts, he tried to break through the dense wall that surrounded the ‘core’ of the Black Blade’s essence. He would’ve abandoned the idea and mocked himself for being delusional if he hadn’t felt the wall gradually give way after a while. It sagged, warped, cracked, and finally tore due to the onslaught of Hadjar’s monstrously strong and sharp will. He drilled into the barrier that stood in his way. Eventually, gathering his spiritual force together into a compact shape, he sent it out in a powerful attack that assumed the form of a sword slash.

  The wall didn’t collapse or disappear, but a tiny hole did appear in it. The thread of Hadjar’s consciousness went through it, writhing like a snake. It touched the core of the Black Blade and offered it a chance to eat. It all happened in a place far deeper than the level of mere surface thoughts — the depths of subconscious images and desires.

  “By the Great Turtle,” Einen said, backing away.

  The sword in Hadjar’s hands vibrated and began to move. Like a hungry animal, it stretched and then ‘sniffed’ at its prey. Several wisps of black fog separated from the blade. They approached the fairy’s body. Then they wrapped it in a tight cocoon, and finally, with a dissatisfied ‘snort’, pulled back. The image of a disgruntled animal that had been awakened not to feed, but to be made fun of, popped into Hadjar’s mind.

  “That looked creepy,” Einen said.

  Hadjar shrugged and considered this new development. It meant Helmer hadn’t deceived him. The sword really could... eat. But what was he supposed to feed it?

  “I need to think.” Hadjar sat down on a stump and propped his chin up on his hand.

  Helmer was a demon, but he seemed to have a concept of honor. After all, he had served his Lord, the Demon Emperor or Prince, faithfully for ages. The fact that he was capable of such loyalty and devotion made Hadjar respect the Lord of Nightmares. Of course, demons were considered to be the enemies of humanity and the gods, but who said that he couldn’t respect his enemy?

  Helmer wouldn’t have given him this bit of advice if he thought it was useless. Besides, it was now in the demon’s best interest for Hadjar to become stronger. To participate in the Tournament of Twelve, a person had to be at least an inner circle disciple. If he didn’t become one, Hadjar wouldn’t be allowed to register.

  “You know, my bald friend, I doubt that a creature like Helmer could ever accidentally lose control of his nightmares and let them kill something on their own.”

  Einen shrugged and replied:

  “I confess, my barbarian friend, that I was too frightened to follow what was going on. By the Great Turtle, when I have children, I won’t have to make up stories for them. I’ll just tell them about this night.”

  Hadjar realized that the islander was useless in this situation. Admittedly, he had already done everything he could and it would be dishonorable to demand more.

  “He killed the fairy on purpose,” Hadjar reasoned. “He did it for the sake of the Black Blade, but the sword…”

  Then it dawned on Hadjar. He remembered the spirit of Kurkhadan telling him that the bodi
es of the messengers of the gods were used to make Energy Stones, and that such stones were used to create artifacts at the Imperial level and higher.

  “Why not?” Hadjar smiled.

  He took out the two Energy Stones that he’d received after helping Dora in the Forest of Shadows. After some thought, he put one of them (the larger one) back. Placing the smaller one on the ground, Hadjar touched it with his sword and sent the mental command for it to ‘eat’ again. Several wisps separated from the Black Blade. They wrapped the Energy Stone in a cocoon of black threads and held it there for some time.

  Hadjar was almost convinced this was another failure when he felt a surge of energy aimed not at him, but at the sword! It was an alien sensation, as if he were feeding an animal and could feel it absorb, digest, and assimilate its food. The black wisps sucked the power out of the Energy Stone. It grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely within the black fog. Once the artifact was completely gone, the wisps retracted back into the blade. For a moment, there was silence in the clearing.

  “Are you sure that this... this... this is normal for a Call?” Hadjar stared at his sword, dumbfounded.

  “I don’t think that blade is part of your Call,” Einen said, shaking his head.

  “Why?”

  “Because you can’t just summon a part of your Inheritance,” the islander explained as if it were something obvious. “And I don’t see you wearing your cloak at the moment.”

  Hadjar didn’t argue.

  “You know, if the Enemy really was an ancient spirit, and you’re his descendant, then-”

  “Stop.” Hadjar interrupted him.

  He understood what Einen meant. If the Marnils still retained a part of their ancestor’s spirit, the same could’ve happened to the Durans, who’d been infused with the blood of the Dark Storm Clan of dragons. Not to mention the possibility of him having inherited something from the Black General.

  “But why can’t I keep the blade in the physical world at all times?”

  Einen thought about it. He walked around his friend and examined him the way a person usually studied strange creatures at fairs.

  “Maybe you need to become a Spirit Knight to do so?” The islander suggested. “Or maybe it has something to do with your dragon ancestor. Or maybe Dora lied. I don’t think that’s a question we can answer while standing at the edge of a forest in the middle of the night, my friend.”

  “You’re right.” Hadjar sighed.

  He listened to his sword and sensed that it had gotten a little stronger. He took the second stone out and fed it to the voracious sword.

  “I hope I don’t have to feed you a hundred of these for you to be on par with the Heaven level artifacts,” Hadjar said to the blade.

  After making sure that no one was watching them, Einen removed his veil spell and they returned to the camp.

  Chapter 466

  Hadjar spent the next day trying to talk to Anise, but the girl pretended that nothing had happened between them last night. Still, Hadjar was pretty sure that Anise was attracted to him, too. How else could you explain the fact that she’d chosen to talk to a simple commoner? By the standards of the Predatory Blades clan, he didn’t even have any obvious talent.

  “Don’t be so forward.” Dora whispered to him quietly, adjusting the saddle of her Frogohorse. “A girl has to feel like a man has some mystery to him.”

  Hadjar looked at the elf girl skeptically. She was smiling as she straightened her hair.

  Damn it! Hadjar thought upon noticing Einen’s grin, even if everyone else would’ve said his expression was blank. I’m almost thirty! Am I really going to listen to the advice of a girl who hasn’t even had sex with a man yet?

  Hadjar slapped himself mentally. Arrogance wasn’t a trait that could lead to anything good. If not for Tom Dinos’ pride and his desire to show who the ‘most important person here’ was, Hadjar would’ve been knocking on the door to his ancestors’ home already.

  Dinos, dressed in white silk robes emblazoned with his family crest, was currently issuing commands to his most trusted fully-fledged disciples. When had he managed to acquire them, considering that, according to Dora, he hadn’t left his tent all night? Did all seven clans have their own servants at ‘The Holy Sky’ School? If so, that was a very convenient practice.

  “Listen to me carefully,” Tom said, using some energy to amplify his voice so that all fifteen hundred disciples could hear him. “The Primeval Giant is only at the initial stage, but that doesn’t mean it will be easy to deal with him. He’s as strong as a human Nameless one, and believe me, Nameless ones are a force that you cannot underestimate.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement, but despite these sobering words, no one had even a trace of doubt or fear in their eyes. Reaching the level of a true cultivator required the kind of willpower and determination that only one in a hundred thousand people had. Becoming strong enough to receive a silver token of ‘The Holy Sky’ School... Well, perhaps only one in two hundred thousand people was capable of such a thing. And doing so within the time frame the School demanded was something maybe one in half a million could manage. It wasn’t surprising that all those gathered here could face death itself with honor and dignity.

  “All of you who are skilled at using Techniques of external energy,” Tom Dinos used the scientific term for the true path of cultivation, “stay behind everyone else. Use your most powerful spells and runes. We’ll need all the firepower you can muster. Kevin!”

  “Yes, my Lord,” a tall, young man of about fourteen said. On his shoulder was a patch of the Predatory Blades clan, complete with the hieroglyph for ‘service’.

  Dinos handed him a scroll. During his time in the freak show, Hadjar had acquired many useful life skills, including lip reading. He’d relied on the neural network before, but now he had to do it himself.

  “The Phoenix Crypt Formation,” Hadjar read what Dinos was whispering. “Use it at the beginning of the battle to weaken the creature.”

  “What are they talking about?” Einen asked.

  “Something about a Phoenix Crypt Formation,” Hadjar shrugged.

  Dora, who was sitting next to them, spluttered in surprise. Clearing her throat, she looked at the two friends.

  “Are you serious?” She asked.

  “Completely,” Hadjar answered.

  “By the Great Forest,” Dora breathed out shakily, checking to make sure her collapsible armor was still in place. “That’s bad news.”

  Einen raised his left eyebrow questioningly. Hadjar was quite surprised at this generous display of emotion from his bald friend.

  “Do you know what a formation is?”

  Just then, Dinos continued to remind everyone to be extremely careful. He also started going over the division of points again, so he wasn’t saying anything useful yet.

  “A formation,” Dora said, clearly trying not to roll her eyes, “is a way to share Techniques, regardless of whether they use internal or external energies. It also strengthens the cultivator or cultivators who will shape the Technique. The Phoenix Crypt is a spell formation that burns the air within a forty yard radius.”

  Hadjar and Einen gulped. If a hundred Heaven Soldiers used the Phoenix Crypt Formation, they could create a real inferno for a short time.

  “If they cast it properly, it will hurt the Giant a lot, but those who are near it at the time... I don’t think even I have enough power to withstand the devastation of a formation powered by a hundred cultivators.”

  “But why isn’t he telling anyone else about it?”

  “Because Primeval Giants have an intelligence comparable to that of humans,” Einen explained. “The monster will spot the trap if it’s too obvious.”

  Hadjar looked at Tom Dinos again. He was giving an inspirational speech about the benefits they’d all earn here, promising that everyone would be satisfied with their share. Well, everyone would, except for those whom Dinos had written off in advance as the bait for his t
rap.

  “Besides, even if someone else finds out, like you did, they won’t tell the others,” Dora added. “The fewer the survivors, the bigger the reward at the end. To be honest, even if we were to gather five thousand cultivators, we still wouldn’t stand a chance without this formation.”

  Hadjar looked around at the other cultivators. Many were about twenty years old. Some of them had possibly never left the School before in their lives. They’d lived on the allowance sent by their families, exchanging money for Glory points and buying Techniques. Strangely, he felt no need to help them, not because none of these cultivators would’ve done anything if they’d known that Hadjar and Einen had been prepared as ‘sacrifices’ on the altar of victory, but simply because... They weren’t with him, weren’t his people, and he didn’t bear any responsibility for them.

  Each cultivator had to follow their own path of cultivation. And the main rule of any path was ‘sink or swim’. Even if it sounded fairly cynical and, in part, dishonest, it was the truth of the world of martial arts. A cultivator had to take care of themselves and their own people, not random passerby and acquaintances.

  “I also want to warn you,” Dinos added at the end of his speech. “The news that we are hunting a Primeval Giant in the Valley of Swamps must have spread all over the area by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if the disciples of the ‘Meltwater’ School or the ‘Quick Dream’ School are waiting for us on the Imperial Road. So, don’t think that we’ll only have to fight the Giant!”

  Despite the fact that these cultivators were about to face a deadly creature that wielded insane power, they shouted gleefully at the mention of disciples from other Schools.

  This was the nature of those who lived in the world of martial arts. They always needed an enemy. Otherwise, they didn’t see the point in further cultivation. The opportunity to fight against disciples from the rival Schools was always welcome. They could get a decent amount of Glory points for the tokens of ‘Meltwater’ and ‘Quick Dream’ School disciples.