The Saga:
Dragon Heart
Iron Will
Book II
By Kirill Klevanski
Text Copyright © 2019 Kirill Klevanski
All rights reserved.
No part of this book can be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
Introduced by Valeria Kornosenko.
Translated by J. Kharkova
Edited by Damir Isovic
Cover designed by Vitaly Lepestkov
Illustrations by Valery Spitsyn
PREFACE
In the first book, Hadjar lost it all. His body ruined, parents dead, and his title of Prince replaced by a slave collar. It seemed like Primus had deprived him of everything.
But no one can take away a man's will to fight. Even if his heart turns into a bleeding stone due to endless grief and suffering, it won't matter.
The most important thing was that he still had the will to go on. The thought of taking revenge on his family's murderers gave him the strength to survive.
After receiving a piece of the mighty Dragon's heart, he regained his strength and enlisted in the army, where he made real friends and fought by their side in many battles. He started harnessing his new power and acquiring great knowledge.
Hadjar has already had many adventures, but this is only the beginning of his great journey, full of magical mysteries, palace intrigues, epic battles, tempestuous love and the cultivation of his power...
Chapter 74
Hadjar started running his fourth lap with a bundle of six giant logs strapped to his back and shoulders. In doing so, he had already almost broken the record of his former commander — ‘Bear Dogar.’
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A slight smile crossed Hadjar’s lips.
He had never paid back those few barrels of beer he’d owed the man. That’s how much he had lost to his commander. Alas, now he could only pay him back in the next world, and Hadjar was definitely in no hurry to get there any time soon.
He was, however, pleased that he could beat Nero, who usually ran by his side while shouldering five logs. This was less than Hadjar carried but more than a practitioner of the Formation Stage could usually cope with. Apparently, Nero had some kind of secret—and probably more than one.
Nero now stood in front of the ranks of recruits; there were maybe a thousand people here. At least, that’s how many they had chosen for their new squad, with General Leen’s permission. There were a lot of very strong recruits — both male and female — and none were at a level lower than the second stage of the Bodily Rivers. Hadjar was sure that many of them could pass the officer’s exam.
Officers Hadjar and Nero were famous now. They had received a lot of attention, mostly in song form, after the battle at the Blue Wind ridge—especially their flight on the back of the reptile and using the enemy’s cannons against them.
A lot of the young people considered them their idols. Therefore, there were always plenty of those who wanted to serve under the famous officers—many more than the thousand that stood before them today. Nero had had to narrow the selection down from over seventeen thousand! A good bit of effort had been involved, considering that there had originally been over seventeen people all vying for a single spot.
“So, fighters,” Nero said, walking along the ranks. “Take a good look at the parade ground. For the next two months, this will be your home. Your second home, at any rate, after our Healer’s tent.”
Nero waved his hand toward the Scholar who usually sat in the shade, near a barrel full of his odorous poison. Currently, Serra was with him. They were reading some old scrolls together and passionately discussing something.
Hadjar could hardly make the Healer join them. He had been a close friend of Dogar’s, and he felt incredible pain while looking this new squad. Only the opportunity to talk to Serra distracted him from his grief.
What did any scholar appreciate more than quiet in his research lab? He only valued the chance to communicate with enlightened men more, or with a woman, in this case.
Nero continued to address the ranks. “If anyone here thinks that this is an exaggeration, I advise you to reconsider. I’ve even elected to downplay the reality of it, so as not to scare you off and make you run back to your mothers.”
The recruits looked at each other, but they didn’t make a sound. No one dared to utter a word.
“Look at our valiant commander!” Nero shouted, breaking the silence.
In unison, the soldiers turned to look at Hadjar as he continued to run around the parade ground. Topless, he looked solid. Every vein and muscle was clearly defined on his tanned, slender body. Only then did they stop doubting the power of their commanding officer.
Earlier, when they’d seen this sleek, tall young man, they had suspected that the bards’ songs had been embellished and more propaganda than the fact. Now that his top was off, they saw Hadjar’s figure, which looked as if it had been sculpted by an artist, and watching him carry the six huge logs on his back... Well, they couldn’t believe their eyes.
Nero continued: “Every morning, you’ll carry a log on your back and run with it for two hours! After that, you’ll have ten minutes of rest, during which everyone will drink at least one full glass of the brew provided by our most venerable Healer! Don’t be fooled into thinking it’ll be as fragrant as your grandma’s tea, though - ha! I assure you, you haven’t tasted poison such as this before, even if you have previously drunk straight from the garbage!”
The Healer seemingly heard the comparison, but he wasn’t offended by it, far from it. He just proudly raised his chin and the hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“After jogging, you’ll be divided up! Some of you will go to the obstacle course, and I assure you, the dummies’ truncheons aren’t wrapped in rags there! If you get a fracture, the Healer will cure you by morning, of course! But—and this is a big but—you’ll lose my respect, which none of you have even managed to earn thus far, and the following day, you’ll get to run with a heavier load!”
Hadjar attempted to hide his smile as he ran, but he didn’t succeed. Nero carried out his duties as an assistant much better than Hadjar ever had.
Once upon a time...
In fact, less than six months had passed since he’d been the one filling the role of Dogar’s assistant. Now, though, after everything that had transpired, it seemed like a lifetime ago.
Time had an odd way of going by during wartime. Sometimes, it was as slow as a snail, and yet, at other times, it was as quick as a diving falcon.
Nero’s raised voice brought Hadjar out of his reminiscing.
“After the obstacle course, you’ll spar or have target practice! Each of those exercises will also last two hours! During the short ten-minute breaks, you’ll again drink the Healer’s brew! In the evening, the healthiest soldiers will bring those who aren’t able to walk to the Healer! If you have enough strength left to go into town after that, then... well, damn! I’ll send you back to the training ground once again! Only those that can handle a threefold increase in training difficulty can go into town. Oh, and just so you know, the standard difficulty is running for three hours with three logs on your back, so I wouldn’t suggest making any plans!”
The soldiers started whispering, but no sooner had they started than they abruptly stopped
and silence once more hung over the parade ground. As he ran past the recruits, Hadjar looked in their direction. It was enough for many of them to forget how to breathe.
For a moment, they saw not a man looking back at them, but rather, a predator, a wild beast. One that was terrifying, ferocious, and ready to tear the sky itself apart. The gaze of his clear, blue eyes was frightening and yet somehow fascinating to the men and women that stood motionless, staring at him.
Some even thought that, in the deepest, darkest depths of that gaze, they could see a curled up, sleeping dragon. They had no doubt that, at any moment, the dragon could unfold its wings and bare its fangs.
“I don’t understand why you’re just standing around!” Nero shouted, putting a bundle of five logs on his back. “Come on! Move it! Otherwise, you’ll be running until dinner! Which will be... tomorrow evening! Now… FUCKING MOVE!”
The recruits immediately rushed over to the log pyramid. Groaning, moaning, and drenched in sweat, they haphazardly threw the logs across their shoulders and, for the most part, found they couldn’t even move. Most of them stumbled, limped, and almost crawled around the parade ground. In their eyes, these officers were no longer just living legends. Not merely the heroes of bards’ songs.
No.
They were demons that had crept out of the abyss. It was only their first day with this newly formed squad, and some of the soldiers were already cursing the day they had decided to join it.
“They’re sickly.” Hadjar sighed as Nero caught up with him.
“Don’t worry. We’ll train them up,” his friend replied.
Hadjar looked to the north. There, the army of Balium, which no doubt numbered in the millions, was preparing. By now, the enemy had surely not only doubled their advantage, but had most likely increased their numerical superiority tenfold.
“We’ll make sure they survive, Hadj,” Nero said, sensing the troubles that plagued Hadjar’s thoughts as he turned to gaze northward as well.
“Even if the sky itself cracks?” Hadjar asked.
“Even if the sky itself cracks,” Nero agreed.
Next to the barrel that marked the center of their parade ground, the new standard of their squad was flying in the wind. It depicted a huge bear, wearing armor, and raising its large paws toward the heavens. Its eyes were clear, almost human in their intelligence.
The bear was still watching its charges.
Chapter 75
Sitting in the lotus position, Hadjar absorbed the energy of the world around him. He closed his eyes and breathed in the manner described in Traves’ meditation scroll that lay at his feet. Maintaining a proper breathing pattern and circulating the absorbed energy with this special Technique, he felt that he was progressing much faster than he otherwise might have. It took him only a single night to absorb all the energy. It wasn’t so long ago that he would’ve needed a whole month to do so. Finally, he was making real progress.
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With every breath, he could feel the energy of Heaven and Earth penetrating everything around him. A kind of ephemeral substance that was in the air, water, fire, trees, iron, people, beasts, and everything that was under the boundless skies, in the flow of the endless waters, or beneath the granite earth.
This energy infused everything, even keeping secrets and guarding mysteries that Hadjar couldn’t begin to understand. Try as he might, he couldn’t find his way back to Traves’ Palace. He had been so eager to return there every day, but he couldn’t find the entrance in the endless dark of his subconscious. It was beginning to frustrate him to the point that he felt like giving up.
The only thing he saw in this bottomless darkness were the five sparkling Fragments which had once been an integral whole—the Seed. But thanks to his power and will, Hadjar had been able to break the Seed into these smaller parts. He had made each of them grow, gradually making every one bigger than their progenitor Seed, and then he’d nourished each of them with power.
He had discovered some interesting information while he’d been perusing the librarian’s scrolls, which he was constantly renting and never buying, thanks to the neuronet and its memory access. It had been suggested in the scrolls that a practitioner’s talent could be made almost limitless.
This meant a superior stage Heaven Soldier might be so strong that they could defeat an initial stage Spirit Knight. On the other hand, they might botch it and end up so weak that the Knight would wipe the floor with them without even trying. There was so much information to take in. At times, Hadjar worried that he wouldn’t have room in his mind to remember everything that he needed to.
It depended on too many factors: on Techniques and a cultivator’s skill, as well as how well they knew their bodies and the world around them. Moreover, Hadjar had learned that true swordsmanship didn’t end at the ‘Wielder’ stage, which had come as a surprise to him.
He had recently discovered this fourth stage. However, there was no significant information about it in any scroll, merely vague hints and discreet mentions.
Hadjar was beginning to see the sword as more than a tool of revenge. Every time he held it in his hands, with each slash, he felt that it wasn’t just a shaped piece of metal made to end people’s lives. Instead, he felt like there were secrets and mysteries locked up within, hidden behind the veil of this reality. He sensed that answers were waiting for him, hidden within those depths.
Answers to the questions that continued, even now, to torment his soul.
Only the sword could give him the knowledge and freedom that he truly desired. The ability to decide his own destiny, and the opportunity to see and explore this boundless world.
All of these thoughts came to him as he took another breath. All of them hidden in the particles of the absorbed energy that surrounded him. Absorbed via the nodes, the energy passed through the meridian rivers, and then rushed into the Fragments. With his every breath, they sparkled a little brighter.
As the librarian’s scrolls had described, talent could usually be measured. It was possible to do this during the initial stages, when the difference in a practitioner’s power wasn’t so visible, by counting the number of Fragments.
It was said that very ordinary practitioners were only able to break the Seed into two Fragments. Those who were a little stronger managed four. The average level was five Fragments, and only the most talented of geniuses were able to split the Seed into seven Fragments.
It was quite logical, really, since the more Fragments existed, the larger the Core of power would be.
Hadjar didn’t mind admitting to himself that he was quite pleased with his results. He had no desire to be a genius. As long he had his sword, even the gods themselves would come to regret it if they stood in the way of his vengeance.
He didn’t need talent for cultivation, or regalia, or a title—only the sword. He would prevail against everything with it and conquer anything that existed under the endless sky that came between him and his destiny.
Hadjar opened his eyes.
The air in his tent vibrated slightly, and the talisman, which had recently ‘entered’ reality, appeared before him again. A strip of yellow paper spun in the air before him, emitting a beautiful, orange light, warning him of approaching danger.
Hadjar adjusted his battered, torn and patched up clothes. He then stroked the sleeping, purring Azrea, took the sheath that contained his sword, and left the tent.
“Is he here?” Serra asked, tying her belt.
Behind her, Nero was hopping on one leg, trying to get his boot on the other one, but wasn’t having much success.
“Why do you presume it’s a ‘He’?” a female voice asked in the darkness.
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An assassin from the Ax clan was hiding in the shadows. Judging by the emanations of her aura, she was at the Transformation of the Body
stage. Hadjar had already fought a practitioner of that same level, and he’d been much weaker at the time.
“You didn’t have to get up.” Hadjar looked at the pair, shook his head, and unsheathed his sword. “I can do this myself.”
“But...”
Nero laid his hand on Serra’s shoulder and pointed behind him with his eyes. This time, the girl didn’t argue. She moved back and stood behind Nero as he also unsheathed his sword.
“I don’t need your help, Nero. This is my battle.”
“Of course, my friend.” A predatory smile flashed across his features. “But if you stumble, I’ll chop her head off before she cuts your throat.”
Hadjar chuckled. It was damn pleasant to know he always had his friend’s support, even in the most dangerous of situations.
“Have you finished discussing everything, my dear?” the voice from the shadows asked.
“Come out, assassin,” Hadjar replied, in no mood to prolong this foolishness.
He had no doubt that the whole camp would be fast asleep by now. The sleeping potion they had handed out earlier in the evening had sent his squad into deep oblivion. Nero and Serra hadn’t fallen asleep only because of... demons knew what. Hadjar sometimes thought it odd that most poisons and potions didn’t affect his friend. And why the caster hadn’t fallen asleep was something only she knew.
From the darkness, a woman came out into the light. She wasn’t insanely beautiful, but she was clearly pretty enough that she wouldn’t have any difficulties attracting the attention of suitors. Her long, black hair had a wide, red ribbon in it, which seemingly possessed its own consciousness.
The ribbon served as both a belt and a thread, linking the handles of her daggers. The daggers’ blades resembled the sharpened stems of beautiful flowers, and the guards looked like flower buds.
Dragon Heart: Iron Will. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 2 Page 1
