Dragon Heart: Land of The Enemy. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 8

by Kirill Klevanski

  Hadjar now understood what the raven had meant when he’d said that the story would hit close to home. He’d heard a similar story about Sunshine Sankesh, who had wanted to become a god in order to destroy the weak and create a world full of those who were equally strong.

  “Erhard wanted to unite the Hundred Kingdoms, but he quickly realized that he couldn’t do it with words alone. And so, at the next war council, he said that they should begin a military campaign. Eranos was against it. According to the customs of the era, Erhard challenged him to a duel. Eranos lost and Erhard, shedding bitter tears, killed the man who’d been the only father he’d ever known. He thought that one life was a small price to pay to save millions. The war began. It destroyed Erhard’s Kingdom and brought about the end of an era. But believe me, Hadjar, he fought like a true warrior. He fought not for himself, but for a cause. A noble goal that no one else supported.”

  “When you’re mortal, you can’t wage war forever.”

  “The gods are also mortal, and one day…” The raven’s voice sounded ominous. “But that isn’t the point right now. Erhard managed to achieve his goal, but his victory was short-lived. He united the Hundred Kingdoms and created the first human Empire. He was a strict ruler and was even given a nickname — the Last King.”

  Hadjar shuddered. He was convinced that he’d heard that nickname before, but he couldn’t remember where.

  “Some said that he got that nickname because the title of King was to be changed to that of Emperor, others claimed that it was because he killed his uncle, and there were even some that said that it was because of his tyranny and the rivers of blood that he’d spilled so that the majority of his people could live in peace.”

  “There can be no peace from blood.”

  “Maybe,” the raven said. “Erhard gained power that people didn’t even know existed in those days... He was both great... and very blind. His wife was captured and then murdered by his enemies. His Empire fell. Legends say that he fought against such a vast horde of enemies that the ground couldn’t be seen, obscured by their helmets. He alone stood against an army of many millions, but even then, they couldn’t defeat him, only seal his power and lock him in a sarcophagus in the hope that he would die.”

  The raven fell silent. It had told its tale.

  “Why did you tell me all of this?”

  “Do you honestly think that some pathetic Darnassian Emperor could’ve built a tomb full of amazing secrets? No. He merely found Erhard’s sarcophagus. However, since he didn’t know what to do with it, he decided to arrange a funeral for himself in a stranger’s tomb… The bastard!”

  Wait, Hadjar thought, does this mean that Decater’s tomb is actually Erhard’s?

  “Again, why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Because, my descendant, there’s a scroll in there with a Technique I created specifically for Erhard. The Technique that made him the most powerful swordsman of his generation. Find it and it’s yours. You can try to learn it or destroy it. You can even burn the tomb down if you want. I don’t care. Just don’t forget Erhard’s story.”

  They were both silent for a while.

  “What’s the point of all this, Darkhan?” Hadjar asked. “I know you want me dead.”

  “I do,” the raven replied. “But I swear on my mother, the dead earth, on my father, the North Wind, and by all I have, my Name included, that I told you this without any hidden agenda.”

  “Then… why?”

  The raven turned back to the sarcophagus. Hadjar tried to inspect the King’s death mask, but it was broken, as if the sculptor hadn’t wanted anyone to see his face.

  “Maybe I’m feeling nostalgic. Now leave me alone.”

  Hadjar opened his eyes.

  He was sitting near the fire, Azrea’s tail wrapped around his waist. The tigress growled softly at the horses, making them whinny. The rest of the squad was immersed in deep meditation.

  “Damn it all to fucking hell,” Hadjar swore.

  Chapter 651

  H adjar pondered the Enemy’s words till the early hours of the morning. Under normal circumstances, despite everything that Steppe Fang had told him, he wouldn’t have believed the Enemy. He’d seen many fairy tales come to life, but there were still many of them that had remained mere tales. He couldn’t guess the Enemy’s motives, as he’d always wanted to destroy his soul and take over his body.

  Learning a new Technique does sound tempting... Then again, it could be a trap...

  Traves’ Technique was outdated. He’d begun using it more as an added bit of support than as his main attack. More often than not, he relied on sword slashes created by the mysteries of the Weapon’s Heart and the ‘Black Wind’ stance, which he’d created by examining the scroll he’d procured in ‘The Black Gates’ sect. Their Patriarch had probably gotten it from the other members of the ‘Raven’ sect. Hadjar was pretty sure that it would remain one of his strongest attacks for many years to come, as he still couldn’t fully comprehend the depths of the attack’s mysteries.

  His own Technique had been created not by observing the illustration itself, but by studying his memory of it. Even now, he was unable to look at the image for longer than a couple of seconds. The level of Sword mysteries it contained was so high that looking at it for too long could end in one’s death, even for strong swordsmen like Hadjar. Outside of Dahanatan’s elite Schools, the Weapon’s Heart level was considered to be something mythical. Even in ‘The Holy Sky’ School, not everyone could boast about mastering it. Even so, Hadjar couldn’t stare too long at it. All he could do was study his memory of the scroll. Because of this, learning any Sword Technique higher than the Heaven level was tempting. The Enemy could be trying to use that, as he seemed to know everything about his descendant, and-

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Hadjar shuddered. They were on their way to the first landmark, though no one but him knew about it. Einen trusted his friend so much that he didn’t ask him anything about it. The others simply followed Tom, who was leading them confidently in a direction that only he knew about.

  “Nothing interesting,” Hadjar answered evasively.

  Azrea growled when Anise approached them. During the six months that Hadjar had spent in the capital, he’d spoken to the girl only once. A few months ago, Hadjar, Einen, and Dora had gone to hunt a Primeval Giant and he’d exchanged a few words with Anise then. He wondered how the former heiress had ended up being her brother’s bodyguard. The Predatory Blades clan had its secrets, but he didn’t really care enough to ask about it. He hated politics.

  “All right.” The girl tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

  Looking at her, he felt strong emotions, the same kind he’d had for Eina, the first girl who hadn’t recoiled at the sight of his crippled and freakish body. For years, Hadjar had been afraid to admit it to himself, but, now that he’d grown older and more mature, he was ready to face the truth: he had loved Eina. As more than just a friend. And that was what he felt for Anise now. Because of this, he couldn’t find the right words to talk to her. It had been different with Nehen. Their paths had crossed when they’d both been suffering from loneliness. Soon after, they’d went their separate ways. Probably forever.

  “You-”

  “I want-”

  Interrupting each other, they fell silent. Hadjar wanted to facepalm. He was about thirty, and he couldn’t even talk to a girl of seventeen. Although, in the world of cultivators, age was almost irrelevant.

  “I want you to tell me about your adventures in Lascan,” she suddenly said.

  Feeling Hadjar tense up, Azrea growled, making Anise’s horse snort nervously. Both of the riders leaned down at the same time to pat their mounts’ necks. Their heads collided. Startled, they recoiled and looked at each other.

  “Sorry!” They said in unison.

  They fell silent again. Azrea rolled her eyes.

  “How did you find out about Lascan?” Hadjar asked.

>   “Our clan has people in Darigon,” she replied. “Einen asked me to send them your description.”

  Hadjar glanced at the islander, knowing that she was lying. Einen would’ve never entrusted his friend’s safety to an outsider. The girl had most likely done so on her own. Given her current status as a servant, it couldn’t have been easy.

  “Also, the feathers in your hair were a dead giveaway,” she said, glanced at him, and then went back to observing the landscape. “I remember from my history lessons that they serve as rank designations in the orc tribes. And they live on the borderlands of the Lascan Empire.”

  Hadjar touched the feathers in his hair. It hadn’t occurred to him that they might give him away so easily.

  “They healed me after the pirates destroyed ‘Rukh’s Wings’, the military brig on which I traveled to Darigon.”

  He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t see another way out. The fight against the Dah’Khasses wasn’t his secret to tell. He’d always considered it a dishonest act to reveal other people’s secrets.

  “Even Dahanatan has heard the rumors that the orc tribes have started to roam the steppes once again,” Anise whispered. “And that something strange occurred in the remote mountains near the Stone Warriors.”

  Hadjar turned to her. She was staring at him with her piercing green eyes.

  “Danger!” Tom shouted.

  For the first time ever, Hadjar was thankful to hear Tom’s voice.

  Chapter 652

  T he landscape of the Wastelands was very different from that of the Sea of Sand. Both were deserts, but instead of forming huge, golden dunes the size of a frigate or a battleship, the sand here was spread out like a red blanket over the dry land. There had been almost no clouds visible in the Sea of Sand’s sky, but plenty of them floated over the Wastelands. This place also had some vegetation, albeit not much, and most of it dry, as well as ancient ruins. The only feature the two places shared was lifelessness. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

  Because of this, it wasn’t surprising that Tom cried out in alarm the moment he noticed a strange silhouette emerge from between the collapsed walls of an ancient building.

  “Holy shit!” Hadjar exclaimed in surprise.

  “By the Great Turtle!” Einen gasped in agreement.

  “What is it?”

  “Hush!” The two whispered in unison.

  Dismounting, they took everyone’s horses by the reins and led them in the opposite direction, trying to stay out of sight of the shadow meandering between the walls.

  “We’ve seen this before,” Hadjar whispered, trying to suppress his energy as much as possible.

  “Seen what?” Anise asked, walking beside him.

  The squad, despite their attempts to hide their auras, still looked tense and ready for battle.

  “It’s a Spirit,” Einen explained.

  “A Spirit?” Dora inquired. “I know more about Spirits than any of you, and I assure you that this isn’t a Spirit.”

  After his adventure in Lascan, Hadjar could’ve argued that he was now the premier expert, but he didn’t want to waste precious time on silly bickering.

  Dora knew a lot about Spirits, yes, but what she was referring to were specters of nature, born from the World River. The creature that was roaming the ruins had very little to do with those. Maybe in the distant past, it had used to be one, but humans had apparently made it their servant, guardian, and weapon. Hadjar and Einen had encountered these spectral beings before, during their search for Mage City. They’d been lucky enough to survive the encounter, even if they’d been wounded. By the Evening Stars, they didn’t want to go through that ever again.

  “Don’t try to touch it with your will or ener-”

  The shadow came to a sudden halt, interrupting him. Like a broken puppet, it turned slowly toward the squad.

  “What are you even afraid of?” Tom snorted. “It’s only at the middle stage of the Spirit Knight level.”

  “Well-” Einen began, then gave up.

  Both his Spear-staff Spirit and his Call manifested behind him. With a loud snarl, the armored ape grabbed the Spear-staff Spirit and assumed the same defensive stance Einen had taken. Following his example, Hadjar summoned his inner dragon and the Black Blade. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they watched the Spirit walk toward them.

  “I’d get ready if I were you,” Hadjar advised the others.

  “Hadjar, Einen, if Tom disturbed it, let him-”

  The Spirit shuddered. In an instant, it appeared right next to Einen. In the trail of blue flame it left in its wake, one could see the twisted faces of the damned. The Spirit itself looked like a tall, gray-skinned humanoid, except that it had no mouth. Its hair was living flame, and its long arms, protected by some kind of strange armor, reached all the way down to its knees. In its fingers, it clutched a sword covered in blue flame. Its muscular torso was bare, and everything below the waist was hidden by an iron chain skirt. With a single swing of its sword, it sent Einen flying several yards back. The ground between them turned to glass at first, then to fine dust that glimmered like diamonds in the sun.

  The Spirit’s blow was easily as powerful as the ‘Black Wind’. Whatever the creature was, it was clearly stronger than the monsters Einen and Hadjar had encountered in the Sea of Sand.

  “‘-deal with it,” Dora finished.

  “There’s-”

  “Don’t talk!” Hadjar hissed through clenched teeth.

  Black fog swirling around him, he ducked under the Spirit’s sword and blocked it. Blue flames crashed against the dark blade with a loud boom. Hadjar drew a quarter of the power contained within his Core and distributed it throughout his body, making his expanded meridians flash brightly and flood his body with the power of the World River. If not for the Wolf Broth, the crushing power of the Spirit’s strike would’ve shattered his bones.

  Letting out a battle cry, he managed to keep the specter’s sword back with the Black Blade. The ground beneath him cracked and then sank, forming a deep crater.

  “-only one,” Anise finished.

  “Damn it!” Hadjar hissed.

  Turning his wrist slightly, he let the specter’s sword slide down his blade. It struck the ground, igniting the air and leaving an arc of blue fire in its wake. A long furrow appeared in the sand.

  “Strong Wind!”

  Hadjar, pushing off from the bottom of the crater, swung his sword in a wide arc. The black dragon struck the Spirit in the chest with such force that it sent it flying through the ruins. The Spirit crashed into the old masonry and brought it down atop its own head.

  “Damn it!” Hadjar breathed out.

  Einen, having regained consciousness, was now standing alongside his friend once more, looking a little dazed.

  “They never travel alone.” Einen’s tone was calm. “There are always at least a few of them… But why are they here?”

  “What are you talking about?” Tom asked.

  Hadjar was about to shush him, but was interrupted by Dora’s whisper. Now clad in her Imperial level armor, she pointed her warhammer at the ruins.

  “Look.”

  Blue lights flashed among the crumbled walls and fallen statues. They grew in size until copies of the Spirit emerged from them as if coming through a doorway. Tall and lightly armored, they dragged plumes of blue fire behind them, in which the twisted faces of the dead burned. They held broad longswords.

  “What are they?”

  Anise, holding her sword out in front of her, activated her armor. It wasn’t quite as ornate and pompous as Dora’s, but it looked sturdy and reliable.

  “The legacy of the Last War,” Hadjar spat.

  All four of them turned to look at him.

  “The legacy of what?” Einen asked.

  “How do you know about the Last War? Commoners shouldn’t know about ancient times!”

  Hadjar looked at the Dinos siblings and Dora. They seemed more concerned about what he knew than the current s
ituation.

  Instead of answering, he ducked, avoiding the fiery attacks of dozens of Spirits.

  Chapter 653

  “S tay back,” Tom ordered. Clad in white, Imperial level armor covered with gold patterns, he shoved Hadjar behind him. “This battle isn’t for Heaven Soldiers.”

  Stunned by his impudence, Hadjar froze. His companions charged — four people against almost fifty Spirits. Their Spirit Knight auras indicated that they’d be able to maintain a brutal pace for a long time.

  Einen started the fight. The length and lightness of his weapon allowed for great range and speed, which gave him a clear advantage in fights like this one, and his Call served as both a shield and a weapon. Pushing off the ground, he soared into the air. The ape, following its master’s example, swung its spectral staff, inspiring a kind of primal awe in its enemies, one similar to the awe felt by ancient humans when they’d fought against monsters clearly more powerful than them.

  “Boulder Storm!” Einen shouted.

  His purple eyes flashed with wild, unbridled energy. It passed through his heart and hands, and then surged into his Spirit, merging their attacks. The illusion that formed was that of waves crashing against the rocks. The mighty stones split the water in the course of their endless struggle that had been going on since the moment the first drops of water had fallen from the sky and filled the world’s oceans and seas.

  The thirty-foot-long coastline, with all its raging waves and sharp rocks, slammed into the Spirits.

  “Bloody Charge!” Anise cried out, joining Einen.

  Disappearing, she reappeared some ten yards from where she’d just stood, leaving behind a trail of silhouettes which moved from one opponent to another. The last time Hadjar had seen her use this Technique had been during their battle against the Primeval Giant. Despite the fact that she’d struck multiple different targets, each of her movements looked like the continuation of the previous one. Along with this Technique, she used the full range of the Sword Spirit’s mysteries available to her. With each swing, scarlet crescents of energy surged out of her blade, much denser and brighter than Hadjar’s own.