A thick, viscous fog hung over the gorge. The sky, which was dark and heavy, almost pressing down on them, looked like the lid of a tomb. Clouds of smoke and ash rose from the many silent volcanoes. Instead of snow or rain, large, black flakes fell on their hair and shoulders. It smelled of sulfur. There was a pressure here comparable to the power of a weak Heaven Soldier. No practitioner could survive here. If they tried to go down into the gorge, the pressure would destroy them.
“This was once a beautiful valley.” Steppe Fang sighed as he handed the telescope back to Hadjar. “Animals roamed here, and our hunters lived in peace with nature and the Spirits. Then the mountains awoke, and together with the black ash, they spewed out the Dah’Khasses.”
Hadjar estimated the level of lava covering the once-flourishing valley. This calamity must’ve happened at least thirty thousand years ago. How long have the orcs been holding back the demons on their own? By the Evening Stars, they were insanely strong.
The Dah’Khasses’ watchman stood on the very edge of the gorge, under a dead tree covered in black ash that loomed over him, and the demon’s clothes fluttered in the wind. He was about twenty-five miles away. According to Steppe Fang, that was a safe distance. If they came just two miles closer, he’d sense them. Hadjar was shocked to learn about a watchman capable of detecting an intruder at a distance of twenty-three miles. Back when he’d been a General, Hadjar would’ve gladly paid all the gold the Moon Army had acquired for one such watchman.
“How many of them are there?” Hadjar asked as they descended the peak.
The pressure was weaker here, but the fog caressed their ankles, and the sky seemed like it would collapse on their heads at any moment.
“Five thousand,” Steppe Fang replied, “but they have countless servants. Anyone with blood in their veins can be turned into one of their slaves. Our scouts, the ones that were lucky enough to return from scouting, said that they saw a whole ocean of these… creatures.”
“Five thousand monsters, all of them at the Spirit Knight level or higher.” Hadjar patted Azrea, who’d been waiting for her two-legged friend at the foot of the mountain peak. “And an ocean of zombies.”
“Zombies?” Alea asked, trying to hide the nervous shaking of her hands. “What’s a zombie?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Hadjar waved his hand dismissively.
“What matters, then?” Derek was the most knowledgeable of the three, as he’d been preparing for a trip to the borderlands for years. “They’ll burn both Lascan and Darnassus to the ground if they get out of the gorge!”
“Our fangs will be waiting for them. The Dah’Khasses won’t touch the steppes as long as the heart of a single free hunter still beats.”
“With all due respect, giant.” Hadjar patted the orc’s shoulder. “Derek’s right. Once they take a dozen forts, they’ll be unstoppable. It’s like a snowball — it isn’t terrible at first, but it grows bigger the farther down the mountain it gets.”
Steppe Fang glanced at Hadjar.
“You sound like you’ve fought in the mountains before.”
“I have.”
The trio exchanged glances. They were starting to doubt that their new friend was a sky pirate. But he didn’t look like a Darnassian, either. The swordsman’s identity was shrouded in a fascinating mystery. It was as if he belonged to an unknown tribe that had hidden somewhere. And then Hadjar, the prodigal son, had decided to go out into the wide world in search of power and adventure. As children, they’d heard many stories about tribes that lived somewhere out there, in the endless sea of forests and valleys, on the plains and in the tall mountains, among the lakes and long rivers. These tribes were devoted to the contemplation of the infinite and cultivation for its own sake. If a person found such a tribe, they could acquire knowledge that no one could gain in the Empires.
“We need a plan,” Hadjar said.
He retrieved a bundle of firewood from his spatial ring, and with an effort of will, he started a fire. They sat around the campfire, wrapped themselves in hides and blankets, and stared into the light, looking for answers to their questions.
“Steppe Fang,” Hadjar said softly.
The orc stopped chewing a root and turned to him.
“Tell me how we’re supposed to kill their King if he’s equal in power to a Lord, or even a Nameless.”
Steppe Fang tilted his head to the side and displayed his long fangs. By the standards of orcs, Hadjar had learned, this was a smile.
“You’re really smart, little hunter,” he said.
After making sure that they weren’t being watched, he opened his bag. There was something like a dagger inside. Looking more closely, Hadjar realized that it was an elaborately carved ancient fang radiating such powerful energy that it made his heart skip a beat. He had no doubt that even Orune could be killed with such an artifact.
“We use this wolf claw. It belonged to a friend of our first leader,” Steppe Fang explained, tying the bag closed once more. “It can kill the Dah’Khasses’ King.”
“So,” Hadjar murmured, peering at the fire, “we don’t need to fight our way through hordes of monsters and zombies. We just need to get close to their King.”
A wicked grin spread across his face, making Steppe Fang wince. If someone from the Moon Army had been there at that moment, they would’ve recognized that the Mad General had just come up with yet another suicidal and crazy plan.
“Hey, Derek, didn’t you say that the sky ships of both Empires have crashed here before?”
Chapter 578
“No, this one won’t be able to take off,” Derek commented. “Perhaps we should just go back and rent a schooner?”
“Yeah, sure,” Alea said dryly. “You don’t have that much money.”
“Money isn’t an issue,” Derek protested.
“Of course, I forgot! Thank the High Heavens that you’re the Baron’s son,” she grumbled. “However, I’m sure that even you don’t have a couple of thousand Imperial coins on you.”
“But-”
“Do you want to prove me wrong?”
Derek opened his mouth, but then closed it upon seeing Alea’s stern gaze.
Azrea shoved her face into Derek’s shoulder, as if trying to support him.
“You’re a furry traitor!” Alea cried out and pulled the tigress’ tail.
With a pitiful whine, Azrea leapt away and hid behind Irma, who immediately began to stroke her soft fur. Hadjar rolled his eyes as he watched them ― never again would he go into battle with youngsters. Judging by Steppe Fang’s expression, he was thinking the same thing.
They’d had to get rid of the horses, as they, unlike the wolf and tigress, couldn’t traverse the mountain paths. So, Irma and Alea rode with Hadjar, and Derek rode with the orc as they searched for a sky vessel.
They were currently standing in front of a crashed ship. Once a glorious vessel, the yellow schooner now lay impaled on stone spikes protruding from the ground. During their search, they’d come across about a dozen such vessels, from dinghies to massive warships with three hundred cannons. A single volley from such a beast could wipe out the capital of Lidus.
It would seem like Hadjar’s plan was destined to fail, as all the ships they’d found would need serious repairs, a team of experienced sailors, and a new artifact.
I never would’ve guessed that talking to the crew of ‘Rukh’s Wings’ would help me so much! Hadjar thought. When he’d been onboard the ship, he had chatted with them about various things, from wenches to the finest ship parts. Thanks to those conversations, he’d learned a lot of useful things, like the fact that ships were kept airborne by hieroglyphs located in the compartment. If the artifact containing these hieroglyphs was damaged, the ship would crash. All the vessels they’d encountered so far, although formidable, weren’t flightworthy.
One look through the World River at the ‘two-masted beauty’ in front of them was enough for Hadjar to know that it would be able to take off. All they need
ed to do was fix the stern, patch up the sails, and straighten the mast.
“We need to get it off the rocks,” Hadjar said, making the trio stop arguing and turn to him.
Pulling out a piece of cloth he’d cut off from one of the banners at the ruins, Hadjar tied his long hair back. “It has a flying artifact,” he explained. “All it needs are some repairs and it’ll be good to go.”
“Some repairs?” Derek nearly squeaked in outrage. “We’d need an entire team of shipbuilders to fix it!”
Hadjar remembered the good old days when his plans weren’t discussed, but simply obeyed. The disciples of the ‘Red Mule’ school rarely acted like disciplined professionals. More often than not, they behaved like hotheaded youngsters.
“If you don’t agree with me, you can either go back, or you can try to go through the Dah’Khasses to get to their King.”
The trio exchanged glances and shook their heads, not liking either of those options. The more they traveled, the more Hadjar understood how an entire Legion, probably led by a Nameless, had managed to disappear in this gorge. In a battle, both sides suffered losses and grew weaker. The winners were usually those who beat not just their enemy, but their exhaustion as well. But against the Dah’Khasses… Every loss you suffered just made the demons stronger, so fighting against them directly was like spitting against the wind. Spitting your own blood out, at that.
“How do we even get it out of there?” Derek asked. “Even you, Hadjar, would need at least a week to remove all these rocks.”
“Maybe,” he responded evasively, more concerned at the fact that there was maybe seven yards between the schooner’s keel and the ground. The artifact wouldn’t survive such a fall. And even if it did, repairing it would be a nightmare.
“Can you lift the ship up with your willpower?” He asked the trio.
“With our willpower? A military schooner? You’re crazy, Hadjar!” Irma cried. “Only a Lord could-”
“I’ll do it,” Steppe Fang interrupted her.
The orc moved forward, flexing his shoulders and neck. Standing directly under the ship’s keel, he bared his fangs and tensed his muscles. A blanket of energy enveloped his body, forming armor that looked like the skin of a huge wolf.
“Well...”
Hadjar also stepped forward.
The disciples shook their heads. Perhaps they’d been wrong, and the Dah’Khass’ mental attack had actually hit Hadjar and Steppe Fang, making them lose their marbles.
Approaching the rocks, Hadjar looked at the stone spikes the schooner was impaled on. There were five of them, each about thirty feet wide and forty-five feet long. If they’d been ordinary rocks, breaking them would’ve been an easy task. However, the volcanic atmosphere had hardened the spikes. As a little experiment, Hadjar had tried to split one of them in half with a stream of the Sword’s mysteries, but he’d barely managed to leave so much as a scratch on it.
“It’s time to see how strong you’ve become,” Hadjar whispered and mentally reached for his inner dragon that immediately awoke and eagerly merged with his tattoo. The Call enveloped Hadjar and the Black Blade appeared in his hands. The trio could’ve sworn that there had been no blue hieroglyphs near the blade’s guard before.
Holding the sword, Hadjar could barely contain a smile. Before, he’d had to imbue the Black Blade with his own energy, but now, like an Imperial artifact, it had developed its own ‘energy core’. It wasn’t as strong as a human’s core, of course, but it was still enough for it to radiate its own power.
“Are you ready, my friend?”
Hadjar sensed that the blade was ready to fight.
“Then let’s begin... ‘Black Wind’!”
The fierce gust of energy that the blade released made the students of the ‘Red Mule’ school recoil. They knew that the attack wasn’t aimed at them, but they nonetheless felt the wings of death brush against them as it passed by. The blow created a wall of darkness as sharp as the cutting edge of a well-kept blade. It came down on the rocks, slicing through them without any difficulty. Fifty feet long, no wider than a hair, it cut through the air, dragging the darkness along with it. Everyone was sure that if such an attack had hit Mrax, he would’ve died. Not even Imperial level armor would’ve helped him survive.
The schooner, free of its stone prison, plunged toward the ground, but before it could slam into it, Steppe Fang caught it. Muscles groaning and bulging, he held it across his shoulders.
He roared with the strain, carefully lowering the ship down on the ground.
The trio just stared at the two of them.
“Holy shit," Derek swore. “My mother’s tales were true.”
The girls only nodded in agreement. Hadjar and Steppe Fang’s power was beyond their comprehension.
“And now we’re going to repair it.” Satisfied, Hadjar dismissed the Black Blade. “We’ll be up in the air before you know it.”
Chapter 579
Sitting on the broken mast, Hadjar hammered on the heads of the wooden nails, driving them into the boards. Each of the holes needed to be carefully patched and tarred, so the whole squad was working hard to do just that. Their lives would depend on how well the ship had been fixed, so being sloppy wasn’t an option. Irma and Alea, accompanied by Azrea, searched for trees that would be a suitable replacement, but vegetation was extremely rare around here. They’d managed to find seven logs, which Derek had then sawn into boards.
That’s when Hadjar finally got to see Derek’s Techniques. His daggers turned into long feathers made of water, which left a glittering rainbow and an arc of sparkling drops behind in the air with each move they made. Hadjar felt Weapon mysteries at the One with the World level in them. Reaching that level of weapon mastery was difficult, but Derek seemed to have managed.
They then checked the boards’ sturdiness and integrity, as the slightest crack would cause air to leak into the ship. The sailors had told Hadjar that such a leak could lead to a lot of trouble, and he figured it would be even worse if it happened in the sky above the demon lands.
Hadjar looked up. In the sky, which was still ominously dark, he could see many vortexes. It was clear why so many ships had crashed here. It was like trying to swim between reefs that were also surrounded by numerous whirlpools.
“Damn it all, Einen,” Hadjar hissed, hammering another nail. “Where are you now when I need you the most?”
The islander, who’d spent his childhood on a ship, would certainly have been a great help right now.
“Hadjar, catch!” A shout came from below.
Derek tossed him a board. It was deceptively small, but weighed at least two hundred pounds. Hadjar caught it, flipped it over in the air, put it on his shoulder, and then shoved it into its slot. Grabbing a nail, he hammered it into place. The problem with wooden nails was that they had to be made wider than the holes they were going in, but not too big, so that they wouldn’t swell and break the boards. If his neural network had been active, Hadjar was sure this process would’ve been ten times quicker and easier. But since it wasn’t, he had to do everything himself.
As a result, repairing just one hole took almost two hours. Steppe Fang covered small cracks and gaps with tar. Without the squad’s help, Hadjar would’ve probably spent at least three days fixing the damned thing. While they worked on the ship, the girls made weapons and gear. Fortunately, in addition to a repair kit, there were also fabrics and ropes in the hold.
After hammering the last nail in, Hadjar looked at the exhausted Derek who was struggling to catch his breath. His hands were shaking, and large drops of sweat could be seen glistening on his pale face.
Hadjar tapped the stern and shouted:
“Let’s take a break!”
A muffled echo answered him:
“Oka-a-y-y.”
Hadjar untied the knot in the slings, grabbed the ropes, and carefully climbed down. He approached Derek. Putting his hand on the young man’s shoulder, Hadjar almost got a feather right in the eye
. Dodging, he grunted in respect as the dagger left a scratch on his cheek.
“Oh, it’s you,” Derek sighed and turned back to the log. He started swinging again, but Hadjar grabbed him by the wrist and took the dagger from him with a deft movement.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re exhausted.” Hadjar smiled, twirling the dagger between his fingers. He then returned it to its scabbard. “Let’s rest for a bit.”
Derek was about to protest, but seeing his trembling hands made him reconsider. Nodding, he followed Hadjar to one of the logs that still needed to be sawed into boards. Hadjar touched the log and chuckled, hoping that Derek would learn something useful from all of this. Even cutting logs could be considered a workout.
Hadjar retrieved a waterskin from his ring and handed it to Derek, who accepted it with a grateful smile. He unscrewed the lid and drank greedily, feeling the water cooling his body down and soothing his aching muscles. Hadjar didn’t really need the water, but having some on hand had turned into a habit. He wasn’t a Lord who could live for thousands of years without food or drink just yet.
“Phew.” Derek handed back the waterskin. “Tha-”
From the east, just over the gorge, came a thunderclap. A scarlet lightning bolt lit up the sky. Like a monster, it opened its maw and devoured a piece of darkness before disappearing into it. The sight made Derek flinch and almost drop the waterskin. Hadjar remained silent. He didn’t like when someone poked their nose into his business, so he tried to avoid doing the same.
“I don’t like lightning.” Derek searched for his blanket, but failed to find it. The girls must’ve taken it ― it was too cold in the schooner. “My mother was killed by the Darnassians during a storm.”
Hadjar looked at Derek. There was no sadness in his voice, just anger. Hadjar had seen a lot of children whose parents had been killed. He saw such a child every time he looked in a mirror.
Dragon Heart: Land of Demons. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 7 Page 18
