“Calm Wind.”
It stopped raining for a moment. A descending current of wind merged the raindrops into a single stream and brought it down onto the two fighters. When it reached his chest, Hadjar slashed the air with his sword and made the water swirl around him. It turned into thin, sharp blades, which he then launched at Eon.
Placing his left blade in front of him, Eon used a Technique with his right one. It formed a raven’s feather that then split into five smaller ones, which he directed at Hadjar. Each attack contained the mysteries of the Sword Spirit. They were strong and deep, but did not exceed the Wielder level.
Swinging the Black Blade, Hadjar created a wave of power that split into dozens of slashes. To the Dinos siblings, such an attack would’ve looked clumsy and weak, but to Eon, it was terrifying.
Two out of the five feathers that struck the wave were destroyed. The remaining three skirted around it and were about to sink into Hadjar’s flesh when a writhing dragon with a sword-body appeared out of thin air.
“Fifth stance: Rustle in the Treetops.”
Catching the feathers with its claws, the dragon tore them apart. Eon parried Hadjar’s attack, but the stream of water managed to tear off his cloak and made the raven fly off his shoulder.
Their clash had lasted a split second. Curious, the people from the tavern peered out at the yard. Steppe Fang jumped down from the second floor to avoid the crowd.
“Now I understand why Raven Wing was ready to vouch for you,” Eon said. “Your power is worthy of the fifth circle, which is unprecedented for a Heaven Soldier, but…”
His vortex of malevolent power disappeared, consumed by his blades. The aura around them became so dense that ghostly replicas of the blades began to appear in the air.
“… Do you know how to use it? Raven’s Flight!”
Eon’s cloak turned into wings and he soared through the air toward Hadjar. He attacked with both blades, aiming the left at Hadjar’s head, and the right at his body. Thanks to his speed, Hadjar managed to push off the ground and spin like a top in the air. He parried the attack aimed at his body, and let the one aimed at his head pass under him. However, he hadn’t expected for Eon to twist his elbow at the last second and hit him in the head. The cloak of black fog swirled, blocking some of Eon’s strike, but it failed to completely stop it. Hadjar was thrown back. He rolled several feet through the mud.
Before he could recover, Eon came down on the spot where he was lying. His attack looked like a pair of deadly talons.
“Sixth stance: Wind!”
Turning into a plume of fog, Hadjar dodged his opponent’s strike. Once he was at a relatively safe distance from Eon’s blades, he swung his sword. His attack contained so much primal rage that the ground beneath him cracked.
“Seventh stance: Azure Cloud!”
The already dark sky seemed to get even darker. Enveloped in rain and lightning, a black dragon slammed into Eon from above. The echoes of their clash reverberated throughout the surrounding area. Several balls of energy ended up veering off course and flying toward the tavern, but scattered upon hitting Steppe Fang’s axes. If anyone below the Heaven Soldier level had tried to stand in their way, they would’ve been reduced to dust in an instant.
“Not bad!” Mrax shouted, laughing. “Not bad at all!”
With a roar, he swung his swords twice. A torrent of sharp feathers cut the dragon into ribbons of black fog. Hadjar, his head thrown back, watched as dozens of feathers arced through the air and flew directly toward him.
Crouching a little, he sheathed the Black Blade. Closing his eyes, he used all the power he could safely channel and all the mysteries of the Weapon’s Heart level he’d mastered. Summoning almost half the energy in his core, he imagined autumn leaves falling from a tree.
Energy flowed through his wide channels, into his sword, and his meridians as well, allowing him to create more powerful Techniques.
During the battle of the Kurkhadan oasis, Hadjar, using an Imperial artifact and the blessing of the Spirit of the oasis, had only been able to perform the first of the Technique’s three attacks. However, he was much stronger now.
“Fourth stance: Falling Leaf!”
To the onlookers, it might’ve seemed like Hadjar had just made a single attack, but in reality, he was so fast that he’d been able to make five without them even noticing. Each slash turned into a long, black crescent that clashed with the feathers. There was a burst of energy. The rain stopped falling for several seconds.
It was enough time for the silhouette of a huge raven to form behind Eon, who’d summoned his Spirit into the physical world. Gripping his swords, he spread his arms out. The bird spread its wings. And when he swung his swords, he himself assumed the form of a black raven.
“Grave Cry!” He shouted and pushed himself off the ground.
He moved so quickly that the swords actually made a sound akin to a raven’s cry as they sliced through the air. Hadjar, using the ‘Rustle in the Treetops’ and planting his feet as he prepared to block, seemed like he’d be able to stop the terrible attack. However, the blades struck with such force that they sent a wave of power rampaging through his body, one that nearly damaged his internal organs and made him spit out blood. The razor-sharp claws of the raven’s talons raked a deep gash across his chest and sent him flying back. He landed at Steppe Fang’s feet.
“Feel… free… to… lend me… a hand,” Hadjar grunted as he struggled to his feet.
“You fight alone.”
“Gee, thanks, friend.”
“You don’t understand, runt. You’ve earned your Name. You’ve proven to the Spirits that you’re worthy of receiving the power of your ancestors. You’re a free hunter. But no hunter hunts alone.” Steppe Fang hit himself in the chest, right where his Name tattoo was. “When I fight, I don’t fight alone. The ancestors are always with me. They guide my axes. They protect my body. I am one with my ancestors and they are one with me. But you fight alone.”
Hadjar stared at the orc in surprise.
“Do you give up?” Eon shouted. “Surrender, and your death will be quick.”
“I see your ancestor,” the orc continued. “His claws are steel. His fangs are death. So why don’t you call him? Why do you steal grains of his power like a thief instead of claiming all of it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Call your ancestor, hunter-”
Steppe Fang said something else, but his words were drowned out when Eon swung his blades, creating a vortex of power in front of him. It sucked in both the raindrops and Hadjar, pulling him straight toward the blades.
Chapter 564
Hadjar managed to kick off from the ground at the last second and soar into the air. Emerging from the vortex, he swung his sword.
“Black Wind!”
A thirty-foot high wall of darkness, one that absorbed even the smallest particles of light, enveloped Eon. The onlookers gasped in surprise. The mere fact that a simple Heaven Soldier had grasped the Sword Spirit mysteries of the Weapon’s Heart level was already incredible. On top of that, his power was comparable to a Spirit Knight’s, and he wielded a terrifying Heaven level Technique as well… It became abundantly clear to everyone watching that he was one of the elite.
“Not bad, brother!” Eon laughed.
He’d conjured a sphere as dark as the ‘Black Wind’ Technique around himself.
“Damn it!” Hadjar swore, pouring all the energy he could muster into his Technique. The wall of darkness grew both taller and denser. It radiated the mysteries of the Sword. Spreading out, those mysteries turned into ghostly blades that cut through even the distant trees and rocks.
Is he using one of the Enemy’s Techniques? Hadjar thought.
“You aren’t the only one who knows the Raven’s tricks!” Eon’s smile widened.
He pushed the sphere forward. Spinning wildly, it shattered Hadjar’s wall and sucked it into itself. It was as if one darkness was slowly devouri
ng the other.
Behind Eon, who was soaked to the bone and laughing maniacally, the Raven Spirit flapped its wings furiously. Thunder and lightning struck the ground and the tavern. Steppe Fang moved to intercept it, wrapping the onlookers in an energy shield that was shaped like a wolf.
“Who are they?”
“What’s going on here?”
“Is this a battle between two cultivators or two monsters?”
The ‘Black Wind’ couldn’t withstand the pressure and, after being shattered into thousands of fragments, was drawn into the black sphere. The sphere flew toward Hadjar, growing larger by the second. Its power surpassed the best of Tom Dinos’ Techniques.
“Calm Wind.”
A current of descending wind hit the black sphere, pushing it into the mud and slowing it down. Its pull was so great that the palisade swayed. The massive wooden stakes ended up torn out of the ground, lifted into the air, reduced to splinters, and then sucked into the sphere.
Some of the weakest onlookers felt a terror comparable to that of a young hunter encountering a predator for the first time. Many of them realized how insignificant their power truly was.
If that hits me, I’m dead! Hadjar turned into fog once again and, pushing off from one of the stakes, closed the distance between him and Eon. He landed and sheathed his sword.
If only I had an artifact, I would be able to use two Techniques at once!
Back when he’d had Mountain Wind, Hadjar had been able to use two Techniques at once. However, Mountain Wind had been destroyed in his battle against Sunshine Sankesh, and Hadjar hadn’t been able to find a replacement for it ever since. Of course, he’d come across stronger and more powerful swords in the meantime, but he hadn’t felt as connected to them as he had to Mountain Wind. The Black Blade was an excellent sword, one that had felt like an extension of his own arm from the moment he’d first held it.
The sphere loomed like a black sun above the horizon. It floated there for a moment before it fell with a crash.
Hadjar was convinced that combining the ‘Spring Wind’, the stance that amplified any attack, with the ‘Black Wind’ would be enough to repel this sphere, but without a second sword…
As was often the case in moments like these, time slowed down. Hadjar felt the inevitability of Eon’s attack. All he could do was try to block and avoid immediate death, but… It would probably inflict massive wounds on his energy body and bring him close to death.
“Accept your death, brother!” Eon shouted.
For some reason, it wasn’t the sphere that attracted Hadjar’s attention. Instead, a raindrop that landed on the Black Blade drew his eye. Hadjar looked at it and realized that the drop wasn’t the rain, but an entity of its own. It was one of many that, when combined, formed a larger whole.
Hadn’t he felt the same way about himself and the world during his battle against Dragon Tooth? Hadn’t he realized that he was only a part of the world, a drop in the endless stream of the World River? Even if he tried to leave it, he would be forced to go back.
Hadjar looked at the rain, but only saw a raindrop. In its reflection, he saw a huge figure standing behind him. Indistinct, it obscured the sky and the earth. Its rage was untamable. Its claws were steel. Its fangs were death.
And then the vision disappeared.
“I’m sorry, my glorious ancestor,” Hadjar whispered. “I can’t call you just yet, but…”
The sphere came closer. It sucked in stones and dirt, which then turned into dust. Hadjar stood in front of it, calm and enlightened. His cloak enveloped him like a cocoon of black fog.
Steppe Fang, who was watching him, shook his head in frustration.
“He’s too weak to hear his ancestor’s roar.”
But Hadjar didn’t hear the orc. He leaned his head back until his neck cracked in protest, and stared beyond the sphere, at the sky. He could feel the rain caressing his face. It was only his second time seeing the rain since he’d left the Sea of Sand, but it sent him on a journey through his memories.
It had rained back then as well, on the day when he, still crippled, had fled from his pursuers and fallen into the river that had brought him to Traves’ prison.
“Remember, human…”
Hadjar raised his sword above him. A flood of black energy enveloped him, forming tornadoes in the sky. There were blue threads inside them.
“…no Technique…”
If he was one with the world… then the world itself would be his weapon.
“…will make you strong…”
After mastering the Weapon’s Heart, Hadjar had fought Tom Dinos, resisted the temptation of the Black General, fought Steppe Fang, passed the Spirits’ test, and now, he was crossing swords with a member of the Raven Sect. He had survived battles that would’ve ended most warriors. As he’d fought for his life, he’d studied his opponents, always aiming to better himself. But despite his best efforts, the mysteries of the Sword Spirit had always eluded him a little. Only now did he understand what Traves had been trying to teach him.
“…only your own power will help you survive.”
For more than a decade, he’d been guided by what he’d thought was the dragon’s Technique. However, it was someone else’s. Not his. An alien power…
Hadjar stared at the raindrops, feeling the presence of the Sword Spirit in each of them. Each drop was a part of him. Just as he was a part of them.
Suddenly, the Black Blade disappeared, releasing a wave of power so strong that most of the onlookers had to use their strongest defensive Techniques to avoid being obliterated.
Chapter 565
“Hurry up! Please!”
Derek was riding alongside Dockantros, the Lord level senior officer of the Border Legion. After being told that an assassin from the Raven Sect had appeared in the ‘Drunken Goose’ tavern, Dockantros had immediately taken a squad of his soldiers and set off, hoping that they could get there in time to capture the sectarian. Just thinking about one of those damned bastards made his right shoulder blade itch. There, beneath his Heaven level armor, was a monstrous scar, given to him by one of the assassins. For thousands of years, the Border Legion had been killing those monsters, but not one of them had been captured yet. He hoped to be the first to do so and then find out the secret behind the sect’s incredible power.
“Damn this rain,” he muttered.
It had also rained on that day, when he’d been forced to flee from one such bastard. And since all the members of the sect were incredibly powerful, it was a good thing that they didn’t take sides. Like all mercenaries, they fought for those who paid them the most. The currency didn’t matter: coin, knowledge, resources, or guinea pigs for their terrible experiments. Or so the rumors claimed.
“We’re here!” Derek shouted joyfully.
Suddenly, his faithful horse nearly threw him off. The guards’ horses also neighed in horror and tried to throw off their riders.
“Calm down.” Dockantros patted the neck of his mount and looked to where the waves of monstrous power were coming from. “Damn it!”
He was almost certain that he could feel the presence of the Sword Kingdom, the last level of Sword mastery. He’d witnessed that kind of unstoppable and all-consuming power only once before. Back when he’d been a sergeant, he had participated in a training session that had ended in a showdown between General Bolidek, an advanced-stage Lord, and his chief deputy, a mid-stage Lord. When the General had used the Sword Kingdom, everything within sixty feet of him had seemed to bend to his will. The air, earth, sky, wind, grass, water, trees, rocks, dust, even the rays of sunlight — everything had become his sword. The deputy, clad in Imperial level armor, had looked like an ant in comparison to that tsunami of power. The General’s slash, enhanced by the mysteries of the Sword Spirit but devoid of any energy or Techniques, had been imbued with monstrous power. It had sundered the ground, creating a five-foot-wide crack. And he hadn’t even used any energy! Nor a Technique! Only his sword mastery! On
that day, all of them had discovered that there was more to the path of cultivation than they’d been told.
But what he was sensing right now wasn’t the Sword Kingdom, although it was undeniably similar to it. From the dark sky that loomed over the tavern’s yard, hundreds of thousands of black swords rained down, carrying within them the power of a Heaven level Technique. Dockantros, although he’d never been able to rise above the Wielder level, could still sense the true potential of this attack.
“Is the sectarian that powerful?” He whispered.
In the flashes of the lightning bolts, he saw the swords merge into the shape of a dragon’s open maw.
“Follow me!” The senior officer commanded.
He spurred his horse and drew his blade. By the Evening Stars, he would be the first to catch a ‘Raven’!
***
Everything around Hadjar was a Sword. He himself was a Sword.
The Black Blade disappeared from his hand. Various memories flashed through his mind. From his first day in this world, when he’d seen the sword strapped to his father’s belt, to his most recent ones, like the time he’d met the trio. The memories flowed like a river, full of scenes of training and battle. From each of them, Hadjar took a part of the mysteries, a part of himself. They were his priceless experiences, his own Sword.
The stream didn’t end with his battle against Steppe Fang or Eon, but with the moment when he’d shielded Elaine. The Sword was all that separated Hadjar from life and death, from life and mere existence. The Sword gave meaning to every breath he took. It allowed him to pursue his goal. Only it. Nothing else.
His Sword was his own power. Not someone else’s.
Using the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique, he had reached the pinnacle of what a man who lived on borrowed power was capable of. However, just as a butterfly left its past behind when it emerged from its cocoon, so too did Hadjar need to throw away the crutches of someone else’s power and embark on his own path.
Dragon Heart: Land of Demons. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 7 Page 13
