[Would you like to switch to training mode?]
Hadjar snapped out of his musings. Apparently, the neural network had interpreted his rhetorical question as a command. He was beginning to doubt that he’d ever understand how this thing worked.
“What’s that?”
He suddenly realized that he was standing in the middle of a vast emptiness. There was a flash, and a moment later, he found himself standing in the middle of a parade ground. Huge and covered in sand, it resembled the one in the Royal Palace of Lidus. However, instead of dummies, his opponents were real people and creatures. Realizing that he’d already seen all of them before, he recoiled.
In front of him stood everyone he had ever fought, from the bodyguards who’d betrayed his mother to Gurth.
[Information about all battles and hostile units has been stored in the database.
Calculate success rate?]
“Yeah…” Hadjar said slowly.
Numbers appeared above the heads of all the represented foes.
“Holy shit!” Hadjar breathed out in bewilderment.
He guessed that the success rate meant how effectively he’d fought. The highest result was 6.8%, which he had earned by… training with a dummy. In all the other cases, it was rarely higher than ... 2.5%. He couldn’t help but wonder what all of this meant. According to the neural network, he’d wasted more than ninety percent of his potential and power in battle.
Under his own were the success rates of his opponents. The most successful one was Anise, who had fought with an efficiency of 17.3%. And this rather low number made her the strongest swordsman of her generation.
Hadjar cursed. Then he pondered it some more and... Swore even harder.
“What does this mode look like?”
[Select opponent.]
Hadjar pointed at Gurth.
[Downloading [Gurth’s] attack patterns... Download complete.
Enable battle hints?]
“Alright…” Hadjar agreed warily.
This all seemed somehow surreal. Maybe he was still sleeping? Maybe this was just a dream? Never before had he felt this technologically inept. Why had he chosen to study the arts?
[Battle hints loaded.
Select stage.]
“What the shit!”
Hadjar almost fell over in surprise when thousands of small portals appeared in the air. Behind them were all the landscapes that Hadjar had seen in his life, everything from his mother’s chambers, where he’d been born, to the Wastelands.
A moment later, he found himself in a familiar desert.
Chapter 698
H adjar knew that this wasn’t real, but the damned network had recreated everything with such precision that he was starting to have doubts. Only the knowledge that he was in his memories stopped him from switching off the network entirely.
Gurth appeared in front of him. The assassin froze in an attack stance, right in the middle of using the Second Dance. Hadjar didn’t understand how the network had managed to record his insanely fast movements. It had also managed to pinpoint the location of each assassin, even though they’d been using the Second Dance as well.
His opponent’s daggers were covered in the familiar green glow of the ‘Moon Bird’s Feather’ Technique.
[Initializing hints…
Hints have been enabled.]
“Holy shit!” Hadjar gasped.
As soon as the network started the program, hundreds of Hadjars and Gurths appeared. They fought until only one pair remained standing.
[The most effective method of neutralization has been found.]
Hadjar tilted his head, watching as the network presented him with the best strategy for his next fight against Gurth. He followed the surge of power as it appeared in his energy structure and then coursed through his body. It moved rather strangely. He’d never heard of energy being used like that in the Empire. He then watched as his clone performed a rather complex attack.
He was certain that his body, even though it was much stronger than that of most Spirit Knights, wouldn’t be able to withstand such a great strain. The number eight hovered above his clone’s head — the probability of damage due to strain.
“Disable hints.”
[Processing request...
Hints disabled.
Would you like to switch to duel mode?]
Hadjar pondered the question for a long time.
“Yes,” he finally concluded.
Gurth’s figure blurred and disappeared. Hadjar felt a sudden jolt in his chest. Raising his head, he saw Gurth looking back at him — a frozen puppet created by the neural network.
[You died.
The round lasted 0.01 seconds.]
Hadjar swore so creatively that Nero would’ve asked him to write it all down so that he could add it to his repertoire of curses.
“How many modes do you have?”
[Processing request...
Opening the settings menu...]
Hundreds of different options appeared in front of him. He cursed again. He could do anything in this simulated world: adjust his opponent’s level, the effectiveness of their Techniques, their speed, the weather, the landscape, the weapons, the types of energy used, everyone’s characteristics, the number of opponents, whether he received tips, and so much more.
Why the hell had he studied to be an artist? He should’ve studied IT! He didn’t know a damn thing about technology! He’d only ever adjusted the volume on his old laptop!
“Why wasn’t this available before?”
[Processing request…
Insufficient energy to create a training area.
Training mode unlocked: 12 days ago]
Although he wasn’t a tech whizz, he knew that a lot of power would be required to create and maintain something as complex as this. These options had appeared in his neural network after Hadjar had strengthened his soul with the 99 drops of molten Celestial Metal.
“What’s the effectiveness of this training method?”
[Processing request...
Efficiency: 32%]
“How can I improve that efficiency?”
[Processing request…
An increase of up to 86% is possible when the training area is projected directly onto the host’s retina. In that case, the host will be able to train his entire body at once.]
Hadjar wasn’t technically savvy, but he still felt like something was off there...
“Is there a minimum energy capacity required for such a projection?”
The neural network answered immediately:
[Not enough power available currently. Six upgrades are required to activate and maintain the projection.]
“Upgrades?”
What he earned through sweat and blood — a transition to the next stage or level, the neural network saw as just an ‘upgrade’!
“Six... six... That means that I’d have to become a mid-stage Lord! Fucking piece of shit!” Unless his math was off? He was pretty sure it wasn’t…
He spent a good couple of minutes just cursing.
“Take me back... back... to the parade ground.”
[Processing request…]
A moment later, he was back in the middle of the sandy square littered with lifeless dummies.
Sitting down in a lotus position, he mulled everything over for a long time. Had he not disabled the autopilot, he never would’ve discovered this place. He’d had no idea that the neural network was capable of such a thing! He wasn’t a bloody scientist or engineer! He had used to brick his laptop fairly regularly because he hadn’t known how to use it properly, for fuck’s sake!
“I wonder,” he murmured curiously, “if it’s possible to create a fighting style based on the available data?”
The neural network spent a good fifteen minutes processing his request.
[Request cannot be executed.]
“Why?”
[Processing…
Reasons:
1. Lack of power. 9 upgrades re
quired.
2. Lack of information. Information on 46 styles required.]
So, it would take him reaching the Nameless level and studying 46 sword styles before the neural network could create its own. He didn’t know if he could do all that, but he did know that he wouldn’t agree to use that style as it wouldn’t have been created by him, but by the neural-
[3. Style cannot be created without the host.]
“What does that mean?”
[Processing request... Insufficient data.]
The network only used the data that he already had, but it used it far more effectively than he did. Suddenly, another thought struck him:
“Is it possible to create a new sword Technique at the Imperial level or higher based on the available data?”
Contrary to his expectations, the network responded instantly.
[The request cannot be processed due to lack of necessary data and capacity.]
An Imperial level Technique wasn’t a simple fighting style, but something far more complex. Too difficult for even the network to comprehend, apparently.
Hadjar sighed.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
With a great effort of will, he finally forced his eyes open. He saw a worried Einen peering down at him.
“Who or what is this ‘neural network’ and why did you call out for them in your sleep?” He asked.
Hadjar swore.
Chapter 699
H adjar and Einen stared at each other for a while.
“I-”
The islander suddenly got to his feet and walked over to the fire.
“Barbarian, sometimes we have to keep secrets in order to protect each other,” he said, throwing some twigs into the fire.
Hadjar glanced up at him, but Einen was looking at the dancing flames. Night had fallen in the Wastelands. The stars were shining above the moon, looking like a crown atop a queen’s head. Hadjar got to his feet with some difficulty and walked over to Einen. He gripped his friend’s shoulder, sank down beside him, and held out his hands toward the fire.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Einen handed him a bowl of foul-smelling liquid. Hadjar took a sip and winced.
“Next time, think twice before you try to pay your forefathers a visit.”
Hadjar smiled. Wrapped up in a blanket, with a warm bowl in his cold hands, he felt happy to have a loyal friend like Einen, someone he could always rely on.
“How did we survive?” Hadjar asked. “There’s no way that my attack killed all six of them. Three, maybe...”
“Two,” Einen corrected.
“Then how did we get away?”
Hadjar wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. The wind was blowing in from the northwest, bringing with it the cold from the mountains of Greven’Dor. If a mortal somehow found themselves in the Wastelands right now, they would’ve instantly turned to ice because of this wind. Provided that the local atmosphere hadn’t killed them already, that is.
To a Heaven Soldier, the cold was inconvenient, but not deadly.
“We got lucky,” Einen said and filled him in.
After hearing about what had happened, Hadjar agreed that it had indeed been a stroke of luck. If the disciples hadn’t come across their battle, they would be standing in front of their forefathers right now.
“Did he really say that?” Hadjar asked. “That we’ll see each other again?”
Einen nodded.
“Fucking bastard,” Hadjar grumbled.
“That bastard almost killed us.”
“Only because he caught us off guard.”
“Because we were weaker than them, more like it. Our Techniques were weaker. Our styles were weaker.”
Hadjar opened his mouth to argue, but stopped. He remembered the numbers shown by the neural network. According to them, Gurth was almost three times more skilled than they were. He couldn’t deny that Einen had a point. He was absolutely right, in fact. They’d gotten really lucky.
“We should go back to the capital,” the islander continued. “If we continue to only cultivate our power, even the most poorly trained aristocrat will become a serious threat to us soon enough.”
“Do you want to give up on the search for the tomb?” Hadjar guessed.
Einen shrugged. He threw a couple more twigs into the fire.
“You came here because of Dora,” Hadjar suddenly said. How come he hadn’t noticed it before?
Einen turned to him, amethyst eyes glimmering under thick lashes. Hadjar saw no anger or irritation in his friend’s gaze, only sadness and disappointment. The islander turned away.
“The spear-staff is a rare weapon, my barbarian friend. No matter how rich Decater was, I don’t think he left any Techniques or Inheritances I can use.”
It was hard to argue with that. Hadjar had lived through thousands of battles, but he’d only seen someone use a spear-staff twice. And one of the warriors had been the man from Traves’ memories.
“What if I told you that Decater’s tomb was built in an ancient maze?”
“I hate mazes.”
“Wait, wait...” Hadjar waved his hands placatingly. ”Remember the maze that the Last King built? That maze.”
The mention of the Last King made Einen twitch slightly. Over the past few weeks, everything related to Erhard had caused them all nothing but trouble.
“How do you know that?”
Instead of answering, Hadjar just looked at his friend. Realizing that they were talking about another secret, Einen turned back to the fire and threw a few more twigs into it.
“I see...” He sighed. “Do you think we’ll find Techniques we can use?”
“I do,” Hadjar said. “I’d bet on it. If we’re really lucky, we’ll find the Inheritance as well.”
Einen opened his eyes wide. The sternness of his gaze made Hadjar feel uneasy.
“An Inheritance isn’t something to joke about, my barbarian friend.”
Hadjar understood what he was saying. The difference between a Technique and an Inheritance was the same as the difference between a Technique and a style. They both revolved around fighting, but a Technique allowed a person to use their energy in many different ways, while an Inheritance granted them knowledge that included Techniques, styles, and even clues to comprehending various weapon mysteries that were difficult to grasp on one’s own.
For example, the neural network, no matter how powerful it was, couldn’t take into account things like inspiration, insight, and the understanding of mysteries. An Inheritance was also difficult to create, but very useful to an Inheritor. The descendants of the ruling families of the great Imperial clans were called ‘junior’ or ‘senior’ heirs not because of their place in succession, but because of what kind of Inheritance they received when they reached the Lord level. Senior heirs got the full Inheritance created by the founder of the clan. Developed and improved by his heirs, it was a well-formed path of cultivation.
In other words, any cultivator, even the most gifted one, had to climb a rock-strewn cliff, cut themselves a path through multiple dense jungles, and swim across deep rivers just to achieve what those with an Inheritance had already managed to do. This was what their path of cultivation looked like. For heirs, this path was a well-made road they traversed in a carriage. They didn’t have to risk everything for the sake of power. The foundation of their cultivation was always stronger, and their understanding of the essence of things deeper. That was why any cultivator was prepared to sell their soul for a chance to get their hands on an Inheritance. The stronger its creator, the more valuable it was.
That was why the Shadow of the Immortal swordsman had been so astonished when Hadjar had refused its Inheritance. Even the Emperor of Darnassus would’ve gladly sold his soul to attain it.
If the Black General hadn’t lied to him, it would be possible to find a suitable Inheritance for Einen in Erhard’s maze. As for him, he needed only one thing from Erhard — a scroll with the sword
Techniques created by the strongest swordsman in all of history, the first Darkhan himself.
“Well, let’s get going, then.” Einen slapped his knees and stood up.
Chapter 700
H idden in a ravine, lying prone on the ground, Hadjar looked through his telescope at what was happening on the plain. He didn’t like it.
“Here.” He handed the telescope to Einen.
The Islander held it up to his left eye. He also didn’t like what he was seeing. The entire plain was littered with the corpses of both humans and animals.
Azrea, who’d emerged victorious from her fight, and with only a couple of small wounds at that, was sprawled out beside Einen’s horse. By some miracle, the two animals had managed to become friends.
“260... 275… 293…” Einen counted the corpses.
Whoever had found the key to Decater’s tomb had suffered a terrible fate. In the center of the plain, floating in a pool of boiling acid, were several gradually-disappearing armor plates. That was all that remained of the adventurer.
The battle for the key, where it was every man for himself, had lasted the entire night. The plain was covered in Technique remnants: icy needles, dying embers of fire, crushed earth, poisonous plants, lakes of acid, whirlwinds, metal structures of some kind, and huge replicas of weapons.
Dragon Heart: Land of The Enemy. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 8 Page 26
