Einen swore.
“Can you break the wall?”
Hadjar summoned the Black Blade and hit the wall with all his might. His energy, aided by the mysteries of the Weapon’s Heart, simply disappeared into the stone without leaving so much as a single scratch on it.
“I don’t think so.” Hadjar sighed. “Whoever created this damned place was at an incredibly high level of cultivation.”
Leaning back against the wall, Hadjar slid down it and sat on the cold floor. Einen did the same.
“I’m sorry I dragged you here, my bald friend. I should’ve listened to you and returned to Dahanatan.”
Einen was silent for a while.
“This is just another trial, barbarian,” he said finally. “We’ll figure it out, like we always do.”
“You’re going right,” Hadjar guessed.
“I am.”
They were both silent for a moment.
“If we don’t get out of here alive, I want to tell you that-”
“Save it for when we do get out,” Einen interrupted him. “Don’t forget that we still have to survive the Treasure Tower’s trials, the Tournament of the Twelve, and the war with Lascan.”
“And some maniac who wants to kill me.”
“And the Dead Moon assassins.”
“And you still have the fae’s incredibly powerful Core in your spatial chain,” Hadjar chuckled.
It had been part of their plan to move the Core to another artifact. Hadjar trusted Einen with it.
“Which you’re going to sell at an auction where all the nobility of the capital will be gathered together.”
“And half of them are holding a grudge against me,” Hadjar added.
There was only silence once again.
“Don’t you dare die here, barbarian,” Einen whispered. “Whose annoying chatter will I listen to on my travels then?”
“Don’t rush to your forefathers either, my bald friend. Who else could ever be my silent companion?”
Einen stood up.
“Good luck, my friend,” he said.
The hallway fell silent.
Hadjar waited for a while.
“Good luck, my friend.” he whispered into the void.
Getting up, he went over to the fork in the hallway and turned left.
Chapter 719
H adjar didn’t know how long he’d been walking through this maze. After seeing the same branching corridor for the hundredth time, he decided to turn right instead of left. After another two hundred turns, he decided to leave it up to luck and began flipping a coin. After 93,116 turns, he lost count and began choosing turns at random.
“Time.” Hadjar gave the command to the neural network, but it didn’t react. No interface clock appeared in front of his eyes.
As far as he could recall, this maze was the first place he’d ever encountered that could block the neural network.
“Erhard couldn’t have created something like this… No offense to him,” he whispered, sitting down on a stone to take a breather.
Deep in thought, he idly scratched his chin. In the time he’d spent in the Sea of Sand, he had grown a short beard. Right now, it was an inch longer than it had been back then. Going by that, he knew that quite some time had passed.
“I have to keep going.” Standing up, he went over to the fork in the hallway, picked up the coin, and was just about to throw it when he noticed a small scar on his finger ― the wound from the dagger had healed.
He turned around and saw the same two blue blades sticking out of the wall. Decater had gotten through this terrible place twice. But how?
“I doubt I’ll get anywhere if I keep doing the same thing over and over,” Hadjar muttered under his breath. “But what do I need to do, then?”
He fidgeted with the green coin in his hand and then tossed it into one of the corridors. Just like the previous thousands of times, it spun in the air and fell with a dull echo. But unlike what he’d tried during his previous attempts, he didn’t walk into the corridor right away, but crouched down and then lay down on his stomach instead. Carefully, trying not to cross the invisible line, he reached for the coin.
“Slowly,” he whispered. “Very slowly…”
Inch by inch, he tried to reach the coin with just his index finger. At first, he felt nothing but tension in his arm. But the closer he got to the coin, the more pressure he felt. It was like some kind of veil. And as soon as he touched this veil, the reality around him wavered and the air in front of him began to thicken, turning into transparent stone. As soon as he pulled his hand back, everything returned to normal.
After testing his theory several more times, he was convinced that his guess was right. The wall that separated the corridor from the exact replica of the previous one only appeared when he crossed the threshold. In all other cases, whether he threw out a small stone, a coin, or a piece of cloth, the wall never materialized.
“All right.” He leaned back and looked around. Same corridor, same glowing walls. “So, the wall only appears when I cross.”
He went back to the very beginning of the corridor and touched the stone barrier. There might’ve been an exact replica of this corridor behind it, or there might not have.
“Hmm…”
Moving away from it, he went down the familiar path. He even counted the steps — twenty-three until he reached the dead end.
“And what if…”
A wild idea struck him. Pulling out his carving knife, he cut his palm. Thick drops of blood instantly fell to the floor. Turning toward the left corridor, he waved his hand and sprinkled his blood in that direction. He sensed some vibrations and changes in the fabric of reality.
“So, you want more?”
He continued to sprinkle blood on the floor until the stone wall appeared directly in front of him. For the first time, he was standing in the corridor, and not with his back to it, but actually facing the damned obstacle.
“Looks like it wasn’t that difficult of a puzzle,” he said and stroked his beard.
Repeating the process with the right corridor, he suddenly realized that the materialized walls formed some kind of arch that led to a huge hall.
Once he was inside, he didn’t even bother to turn around. He knew what lay behind him.
He was standing in a circular hall, which was quite a big change considering the last few days... or weeks he’d spent in those claustrophobic corridors.
“Another one? Well, well…”
Hadjar turned toward the voice. A creature stepped out from behind one of the columns. It was as tall as a tree and as wide as a boulder. It looked powerful and terrifying. The beast had the legs of a man, the torso of a lizard, the arms of an ape, and the head of a bull. It kind of resembled a Minotaur, and wore gauntlets and steel boots. A scabbard was strapped to its belt. Its sword looked like it weighed as much as Theia’s did.
“Who are you?” Hadjar asked.
He didn’t sense any hostility from the creature. On the contrary, it was looking at him as if he were a jester it had been waiting for for quite some time.
“I’m the guardian of the third trial,” it thundered, steam billowing from its nostrils.
“Trial?”
The giant nodded.
“You passed through the Fog of Gloom and proved that your heart is strong. Regret has sent more warriors to their graves than any blade ever could. You passed the Maze of Ignorance,” Hadjar grimaced slightly at the name, “ignorance and stubbornness are two of the most dangerous enemies. Only a sharp mind can help you master the true art of battle. And now it’s time for the third trial. The trial of Strength.”
“Wait, hold on.” Hadjar waved his hands. “You said I wasn’t the first one.”
“That’s right.” The monster moved to the center of the hall. In the pale light, it looked even bigger and more powerful. “Only a few have had the honor of meeting me. But in the past month alone, I’ve met four of you. It must be a time of great change in the w
orld if so many people are looking for my creator’s Inheritance.”
“Your creator?” Hadjar looked at the giant again. “You’re a golem, then?”
“The guardian of the third trial,” the beast corrected him sternly.
Hadjar couldn’t believe that he’d been wandering the maze for a month. It seemed impossible, but the beast had no reason to lie to him. If he was going to get to the Black General’s Technique first, he had to hurry.
“What do I need to do?” He asked the guardian.
“You get three attempts, challenger. Using only three attacks, you must make me draw my sword. Otherwise, I’ll banish you to the outside world and seal the entrance to you forever.”
“Three attempts?” Hadjar grinned and summoned the Black Blade. “One will be enough! Black Wind!”
A huge dragon, created from a mix of the Sword’s mysteries and his own energy, descended upon the giant. Its power made the ground beneath them quiver. All the stones within a radius of sixteen feet began to crumble, and the columns were suddenly covered in countless cuts and slashes.
No Spirit Knight, even if they were wearing Imperial level armor, could’ve survived such a Technique. Perhaps it would’ve even injured a Lord.
But when the dust settled, the giant simply brushed the dust off the fur on its shoulders.
“First attempt.”
There wasn’t so much as a scratch on its body.
Chapter 720
H adjar stared at the guardian in disbelief. That attack should’ve left at least a scratch! A dent if nothing else!
He blinked and bowed low to the creature.
“I apologize for my rude and hasty words,” he said, straightening back up. “The days I spent in that maze took their toll on me.”
“Days,” the guardian repeated. Hadjar could tell that the guardian had lived here for countless years by the tone of its voice alone.
If this place, this alternate plane of existence, had actually been created before the time of Erhard and the Hundred Kingdoms, then the guardian was very old indeed…
“Are you going to keep talking, or are you going to show me something actually worth my time?” The beast thundered.
Hadjar nodded. He only had two attempts left to get the guardian to draw its blade. It sounded simple enough, but... He looked more closely at his opponent. All the previous trials had included something that, at first glance, had seemed simple, but had actually turned out to be a little more complicated. He needed to think instead of relying on his muscles alone. The guardian’s chest, for example, was bare, protected only by its scales, which made them an obvious target, right? Except that they were probably much stronger than even Imperial level armor. Its legs were protected by armor as well. The tip of the heavy blade hung right next to them.
Hadjar squared his shoulders and looked into the guardian’s eyes, “I’m going to use my best attack. I have nothing stronger than that.”
“Give it your all,” the ancient creature said calmly.
Hadjar dived into his soul: a huge expanse covered with green grass that swayed in rhythm with the wind, the hill with the stone that Traves had once sat on, and the tree that provided him with shade. The Quetzal bird had made its nest in its branches. After it absorbed Hadjar’s energy, it broke free of the soul world and appeared next to him. Once it grew so large that its wings obscured the ceiling of the hall, it was instantly drawn into the Black Blade.
***
For the first time in thousands of years, the guardian felt… something. It had met many warriors during its long servitude. Many of them had come looking for power... Well, all of them had, really. But unlike the warrior that had arrived today, those people had been very strong. Some of them had used Techniques that could’ve easily damaged it. And yet, for some reason, watching this young man use one of the old Techniques made it feel something that it couldn’t explain.
The young man’s Technique wasn’t anything new, since the path of the Spirit had been used often by the first visitors. There had even been a few of them since then. However, this boy was the first to wield it after many hundreds of years.
His spirit was weak, shaped like an inferior being. Of the four types of Spirits, it was the simplest and weakest kind.
The black whirlwind of energy he conjured wasn’t amazing, either. It was dense and there was a lot of it, but it wasn’t anything new. It had seen stronger and more gifted cultivators before.
The man’s Sword Spirit’s mysteries, though strong, still didn’t have what it took to call their wielder a real swordsman.
Despite the fact that, by all accounts, this young man appeared to be absolutely mediocre, something about him had attracted its attention. The guardian didn’t know how to describe it because it hadn’t been created with a mind of its own. Unlike all the living things with souls, it had only a semblance of one. But even so, it sensed that it had never encountered such a weak challenger before. At least in terms of raw power. His will, on the other hand, could’ve moved mountains.
Looking closer, the guardian noticed tears and holes in the whirlwind. The path of this cultivator wasn’t based on the sword, raw power, or unique energy, but on sheer willpower. This appeared to be enough for the young man, but little did he know that the higher he climbed, the less firm his base would become. In other words, if he didn’t strengthen his will soon, he’d end up getting himself killed. His path was obviously heading toward the abyss…
If only... if only it could help him, just a little…
***
“Black Wind!” Hadjar roared.
A blue hieroglyph appeared along his obsidian blade, assuming the form of a bird in flight. It released a torrent of energy so strong that it turned all the stone within a 30ft radius to dust and brought down the massive pillars as if they were nothing more than a house of cards.
Whirlwinds of black energy streaked with blue light reached the distant arches, sending them crashing down. They were reduced to dust before they even managed to touch the ground.
Following the broad swing of his blade, a dragon-sword emerged from a portal of black energy. It was imbued with so much power and mysteries of the Sword that, for a brief moment, it reached the Imperial level.
With a mighty roar, it struck the guardian, engulfing it in a thick veil of impenetrable darkness filled with hundreds of silhouettes of other dragon-swords. Each of them was as powerful as Hadjar’s strongest attack.
The last time he’d used his Spirit, he’d lost consciousness. He had even less energy left now than he’d had back then due to his exhausting trip across the Wastelands. However, he remained standing.
Leaning against the stone wall that blocked the entrance to the accursed corridor, he watched the raging storm of energy and Sword mysteries.
Apart from the one depicted in the Black General’s scroll, this was Hadjar’s strongest attack. After what had happened during their battle against the Dead Moon clan assassins, he wouldn’t dare to use that attack without Einen at his side. If it hadn’t been for the islander’s medicine, he would’ve found himself knocking on the door of his forefathers’ house long ago.
“Is that it?”
The whirlwind burst like a soap bubble, revealing the guardian standing in the middle of the hall, unharmed and with its sword still in its scabbard.
Chapter 721
T he guardian stared at the exhausted young man. The attack he’d performed did fit the requirements that its Master had written down so long ago. However, over the course of thousands of years contemplating eternity, the guardian had gained its own understanding of things.
What would be the point of letting this man progress any further? Even if he received the Master’s Inheritance, he’d still fall victim to the abyss one day. With such a flimsy foundation for his path, he would never be able to achieve anything significant.
But the guardian would give him a chance to strengthen his Core, soul, and will, to find the gaps in the foundation of his pat
h and patch them up.
The guardian looked at the young man again. Everything depended on whether he would understand the following words:
“You’re pathetic, boy,” it said in disgust. “Get out of here.”
***
The wall disappeared behind Hadjar. He almost fell back into that accursed corridor, but he managed to grab on to the edge of the wall and hold on tightly.
“I... have... one... more… attempt… left,” he wheezed out.
“You won’t need it.” The guardian’s eyes flashed. “Weaklings like you aren’t worthy of even breathing in the same air as the Master. You’ve attacked me twice and now you’re barely standing. How dare you call yourself a warrior?”
Hadjar managed to get up, sort of. In his trembling hand, he held the Black Blade. Both his cloak and armor were gone. He didn’t have enough energy left to maintain them.
“One… more-”
“Enough!” The guardian roared. “Get out of my sight.”
He didn’t even have enough strength left to argue. Hadjar just shook his head. Holding his sword in front of him, he tried to take a step forward but fell down. As he slammed his face into the floor, he dropped the blade and it disappeared. He couldn’t muster up the energy to summon it again.
“Look at you, boy,” the guardian continued. “Lying on the floor, powerless. Do you truly consider yourself a warrior? The Path of the Sword has nothing you could ever use!”
“You’re... wrong…”
“Wrong?” The guardian roared with laughter. “You had a chance to prove yourself, but you failed.”
“One-”
“Even if you had one hundred attempts left, you’d still fail! You’re a mediocre warrior at best, just one of the innumerable nuisances wandering this accursed world. Do you really think that someone like you is worthy of the secrets stored in here? You’re as insignificant as a grain of sand!”
Dragon Heart: Land of The Enemy. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 8 Page 34
