Dragon Heart: Land of Demons. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 7

by Kirill Klevanski

  “Was he that affected by our conversation?”

  “No.” Steppe Fang held out his hand. At first, Arkemeya didn’t understand what he wanted from her, but then she gave the orc his bag. He took out his mortar and some roots. To everyone’s surprise, he drank the concoction that he prepared instead of giving it to Hadjar. “It’s because of the mark of the Weapon slave. It’s weaker here.”

  Steppe Fang’s veins swelled and turned blue. He whispered something in his native language and put his palms on Hadjar’s convulsing chest. His veins throbbed, and the energy in them flowed through his palms and into Hadjar’s body. The silver shroud that had enveloped the young man gradually thinned out.

  “I’ll buy you a few minutes, North Wind,” Steppe Fang growled. “Try to get as close as possible to freedom.”

  With a growl, the orc poured even more of his energy into Hadjar. The blue light that his hands were emanating struggled against the silver shroud that gradually overcame his efforts. The higher the shroud rose, the worse the wounds that appeared on Hadjar’s soul became.

  “Will he survive?” Arkemeya asked.

  There was silence, broken only by Hadjar’s quiet groans.

  ***

  In the world of Hadjar’s soul, a storm was raging. The once snow-white clouds had turned black. With a furious rumble, gray lightning shook the sky as it streaked across it. It cut through the air like a sword and disappeared like an assassin in the night. Wind blew with monstrous strength, picking up rocks and chunks of soil only to throw them at Hadjar, who, still sitting in the lotus position, continued his attempts to cut the thinnest of the hieroglyph’s lines.

  The deeper the crimson blade cut, the fiercer the pressure became. The mark was unwilling to let a cultivator who had been ‘given’ to it go.

  Another wave of energy slammed into Hadjar. He was about to retreat in order to gather enough power for another attack when he suddenly felt someone’s presence. Breaking through the stormy sky, a column of blue light descended upon him, carrying with it Steppe Fang’s energy. Howls reached Quetzal, who was still sitting on Hadjar’s shoulder, making it spread its wings and fly up. It grew until it had a three-foot-long wingspan, then shrieked in challenge.

  With a flap of its iridescent wings, Quetzal sent forth a stream of bluish wind that collided with the silver wave of the Sword’s energy. The clash resulted in an explosion of color that dug a furrow in the ground several feet deep, and then it tore through the sky, reducing the black clouds to shreds.

  Hadjar exhaled and lowered his hands.

  The line, unable to withstand the pressure, snapped like a guitar string. The wave of energy it released caused an earthquake, turning the ground into a turbulent sea of soil and rocks that threw Hadjar several feet to the side. He crashed into his Master’s favorite stone and immediately jumped to his feet. Wiping blood from the corners of his mouth, he formed the energy blade once again and attacked the wave of dirt that threatened to crush him. Punching through it, the blade continued forward and plunged itself into the hieroglyph. Even though there were at least a hundred lines left, some of which were broader and stronger than the first, that didn’t stop him.

  “Will you help me?” He asked Quetzal, who had once again turned into a small bird.

  It looked at him and nodded.

  “Attack!” He shouted and charged the enemy with a battle cry.

  ***

  He barely recovered. As if emerging from deep waters, he waded through vague shapes and distant sounds. Finally, he could make out the tired Steppe Fang. He took Arkemeya’s outstretched hand.

  “Thank you,” he said and tried to stand up.

  “What happened?” She asked angrily.

  Derek and the orc seemed eager to know as well.

  “It’s a long and complicated story,” Hadjar answered evasively, then turned his gaze to a crystal torch. “I have a plan.”

  “Another one?”

  He nodded. “However, this time, if nobody betrays us,” he looked at Arkemeya pointedly, “the Dah’Khasses’ festival will become their funeral.”

  “Great! The ritual is starting in a few minutes.” Arkemeya grinned.

  Hadjar blinked.

  “What?”

  “You picked the wrong time to take a nap!”

  “Damn it!” Grabbing a couple of torches as he ran, Hadjar rushed to the secret tunnel’s entrance. Without turning around, he shouted: “Follow me! We must kill the King!”

  Chapter 612

  They were silently running up a spiral staircase. Each of them knew what awaited them on the roof of the Palace where the ritual would take place: dozens of powerful Dah’Khasses who would stop at nothing to end their lives.

  “Hadjar,” Arkemeya, who was running right behind him, said. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Yes,” he responded, although her tone implied that the question would be anything but pleasant.

  They climbed in silence for a bit longer.

  “If we survive, will you tell me how to get to Kurkhadan?”

  Hadjar stumbled.

  “Of course.” He didn’t mind telling her, but he would prefer not to have to take her there. “Damn it!” He cursed once he realized that he needed to look after her. He had no idea what Helmer wanted with Arkemeya, but he was certain that the Lord of Nightmares would be upset with him if something happened to her.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  Hadjar gave himself a mental slap and dove into his soul. He reached for the sleeping dragon; it responded immediately and slithered into Hadjar’s chest tattoo that served as a gateway to its power. In the physical world, Hadjar was now wrapped in a cloak made of black fog; his arms were protected by light armor, and a wide belt had wrapped itself around his waist.

  The effects of the Revelation Ore had faded and Hadjar could feel his power returning. The Black Blade, adorned with a blue hieroglyph at its tip, materialized in his hand. His scarlet Name tattoo, which was visible through the armor, covered his arm from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder. If anyone from the Moon Army of Lidus could see him now, they wouldn’t recognize him. Even Elaine would have a hard time recognizing her own brother.

  Still reminiscing, Hadjar rammed the iron door with his shoulder, making it fly off its hinges, skid across the roof, and fly over the edge. From this high up, the Dah’Khasses’ fields looked like a vast sea of flesh, bone, and rusty steel. Hundreds of thousands of armed zombies stood at the foot of the Palace, brandishing spears, swords, and axes, and yelling incoherently. Green fire shone in their empty eyes. Many of them rode huge, hairy bats. The three-eyed, unnatural beasts cast a wide shadow over the scene, making it even creepier and more foreboding.

  “By the gods and demons,” Derek swore.

  His daggers turned into feathers made of water, ready to tear his enemies apart. Arkemeya drew her sabers and touched the medallion on her chest. It transformed into a thick set of Imperial level steel armor.

  “I found it on one of the wrecked ships,” she answered Hadjar’s unspoken question.

  Steppe Fang, holding a huge axe in each hand, was also wrapped in his Call. The giant wolf bared its teeth behind him. Looking at the orc, Hadjar noticed that he, unlike human Spirit Knights, had merged with his Spirit. They seemed to complement each other. Even the orc’s grin was feral and intense.

  “Well, we’re ready, aren’t we?”

  Hadjar swung his blade and ran along the edge of the sloping roof, toward a wide platform floating above the highest spire of the Palace. In the center of it stood the King. Still wearing the same scarlet and black doublet, he had a thoughtful, slightly melancholy expression on his face. In his hands was Irma, dressed in a black, lacy dress, with wind ruffling her white hair. A necklace made of an unusual scarlet and silver metal with a large snowflake pendant adorned her neck.

  “It’s about to begin,” Arkemeya whispered.

  The King flapped his cloak and Irma soared into the sky. Her waist was l
evel with the King’s own. The girl’s legs parted by themselves, revealing the absence of underwear…

  Hadjar didn’t want to look, so he turned away, but he could still hear her horrified cries.

  “IRMA!” A desperate shout came from behind him. “WE’RE COMING TO SAVE YOU!”

  “Idiot,” Hadjar hissed.

  They were still about two hundred feet from the platform. They’d hoped to get there unnoticed, but Derek’s cry had attracted the attention of dozens of Dah’Khasses, including the Queen, who was standing on a pile of gray-skinned zombies. She looked so prideful, as if her feet touching the roof tiles would soil her.

  She gazed at the intruders with disdain and slight surprise, then waved her hand imperiously. A dozen Dah’Khasses dressed in elegant coats and dresses cast away their masks and revealed their true forms. Their clothes merged with their bodies and leathery wings unfolded behind them. Their jaws elongated and sharp, yellow fangs protruded from beneath their thin, blue lips.

  At the foot of the Palace, standing in front of the zombie horde, were thousands of other Dah’Khasses. They’d raised their hands up toward the black sky and were swaying their bodies in strange, rhythmic movements that resembled both an orgy and an ecstatic dance.

  “Let me fight them.” Hadjar stepped forward, putting himself in the way of a dozen monsters equal in power to the initial stage of the Spirit Knight level. Opening their mouths, they let out low, guttural sounds that should’ve made him experience a wave of irresistible desire and carnal pleasure. But all their attempts were in vain. He didn’t even notice that they were trying to influence his mind.

  They charged him, set on tearing him apart.

  Their combined aura struck the squad. Derek, the weakest of the four of them, staggered and almost fell off the roof, but Steppe Fang caught him and gave him a small bundle of herbs.

  “Eat this,” he growled.

  “What is it?”

  The orc frowned at him, making Derek swallow the bundle without further questions. No sooner had he done so than he felt his body begin to twitch. His veins swelled and became filled with blue light. His daggers shone with an energy so powerful and fierce that it could easily belong to a Spirit Knight.

  “Fifteen minutes,” the orc growled. “Then you’ll pass out. And you’ll be powerless for a day.”

  “Are you two done chatting?” Hadjar chuckled. “Great.”

  The Dah’Khasses were within range. A tornado of black energy erupted around Hadjar. Inside it, the outline of a dragon’s head with two bright, star-spangled blue eyes was just barely discernible.

  “Strong Wind!”

  Chapter 613

  Back when he’d fought in the battle of the Kurkhadan oasis with the help of its Spirit and an Imperial blade, Hadjar had managed to perform an attack that hadn’t injured, but had at least distracted a Spirit Knight at the initial stage.

  He had been a simple practitioner back then, but now an experienced Heaven Soldier stood on the roof of the demons’ Palace, one whose meridians had the powerful Wolf Broth of the orcs running through them, and whose right arm was adorned with a scarlet Name tattoo. A true Name tattoo. Hadjar’s energy body had become an integral part of him. His channels and nodes were as dense as his core, which now shone as brightly as a star on a clear night. Neither Tom nor Anise could boast about having such a strong core. None of this had been easy to acquire; he’d paid for everything with blood and sweat. He’d conquered obstacles that most would’ve simply avoided. The Black Blade that he gripped so tightly was now as powerful as an Imperial level artifact.

  Hadjar Darkhan, North Wind, had never before been so strong and so eager to prove to himself that he was still very much alive.

  Energy rushed from his core and into his meridians, filling them with power and light. It flowed into his body, into every cell and every atom, making it almost as strong and powerful as an Earth level artifact. He felt like he could break a wall six bricks thick with a single punch and lift more than two thousand pounds. He could also feel the Black Blade’s joy — it was glad that its wielder had become so strong.

  Passing through his elongated channels with incredible speed, the power from his core flowed into the Black Blade with an almost overwhelming intensity. It connected with the essence of the Imperial level blade and swirled, ready to assume any form he needed it to.

  The pillar of black energy dissipated, leaving Hadjar standing with his sword in hand. He slashed his blade through the air, sending forth an attack imbued with a deep understanding of the essence of the Sword. Along with the mysteries of the Sword’s Heart, he added his own energy to the attack, as well as that of the blade, and then merged them into the first stance of the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique.

  The resulting ‘Strong Wind’ turned into a giant wave of black wind that swept across the roof, turning the stone statues in its path into dust. The Dah’Khasses’ sonic attacks burst like soap bubbles.

  Twenty pairs of blue lights flashed within the wave of black wind. They were the eyes of ten black dragon-swords that cut through everything they came across, leaving glimmering azure trails in their wake.

  The Dah’Khasses shielded themselves with their wings. They were as strong as Heaven level artifacts, and they were impervious to the attacks of even a Heaven Soldier at the advanced stage. However, the dragons had no trouble with them. Green blood splashed across the roof tiles and the air was filled with furious screams.

  Hadjar concentrated his power into his legs and pushed off the roof. Using the ‘Wind’ stance and his Call, he turned into the ghostly figure of a dragon. Whizzing through the air, he covered a hundred yards in an instant and cut through the demons.

  His sword shone like black lightning. The ‘Spring Wind’ stance allowed him to create a wide arc of energy with each swing, making it look like he wasn’t wielding a sword, but a constantly expanding crescent of black death.

  Most of the demons didn’t even manage to assume their true forms. With each attack, Hadjar cut down several enemies at the initial stage of the Spirit Knight level. The Dah’Khasses died screaming, writhing in pools of their own blood and entrails. With each new corpse it got to feast on, the Black Blade became a little stronger.

  Hadjar kept attacking like a furious hurricane, engaged in combat with over twenty enraged enemies. They sometimes managed to bite him, but they ended up screaming in frustration when they did, unable to damage Hadjar’s Call. It was now as strong as high-quality Heaven level armor, and could even withstand a Spirit Knight’s power.

  Cutting off the head of yet another monster, Hadjar kicked it, aiming at the forehead of the one next to it. Grabbing the stunned Dah’Khass, he lifted him into the air with a wave of his hand, then threw him at one of his other comrades. Knocking both of them down, he stabbed them with his blade, pinning them to the roof.

  Three enemies, taking advantage of this brief delay, pounced on Hadjar, but two axes that appeared out of nowhere made quick work of them. Steppe Fang sank his fangs into the wing of one of the demons and, biting it off, spat it to the side. Before the rest of the Dah’Khasses could flee, the orc gestured for Derek to join in.

  “Dolphin’s Leap!” The young man shouted.

  It was a simple, Spirit level attack without any deeper mysteries behind it, but thanks to the orc’s potion, it impressed even Hadjar.

  Derek swung his weapons, sending drops of water into the air. They then turned into a hundred miniature feathers and rained down on the roof. Dozens of Dah’Khasses roared in pain and tried to shield themselves with their wings. The feathers were too sharp, however, and pierced through their thin, leathery membranes, rendering the wings useless.

  Steppe Fang, seizing the initiative and emanating overwhelming power, swung his axes and cut into the enemy ranks. Drunk on bloodlust, he drenched himself and his surroundings in blood with every swing he took. He was like a wolf on the prowl — merciless to his prey.

  Many Dah’Khasses fell to their deadly o
nslaught, but a dozen more, standing close to the ritual platform, remained motionless. Hadjar, drenched in blood, both his own and that of his enemies, looked up at the Queen. He did so just in time to see her raise her hand.

  It was a simple gesture, but it caused an explosion of incredible power. All three of them were lifted off the ground and slammed into the wall of the Palace tower. If not for the potion, Derek would’ve probably died from the impact. However, despite that, several fractures, including an open one along his left arm, didn’t stop him from standing back up. He would sooner die than back down.

  “I’ll hold her off.” Arkemeya, who’d remained on the sidelines until now, came forward. “The rest is up to you.”

  Hadjar watched her go, feeling nothing but respect for her determination and fearlessness.

  She would’ve made a good opponent.

  “There’s still so many guards left before we even get to the King… What do we do?” Steppe Fang growled.

  Hadjar looked up.

  “I have an idea. But I need the Queen out of the picture first.”

  Chapter 614

  “Arkemeya!” The Queen hissed.

  She stood on a pile of zombies, with the spires of the Palace towering behind her. Against the backdrop of the high mountains, beneath the dark sky, and surrounded by the raging wind, she looked worthy of her title as the Queen of the Dah’Khasses. A rogue spark, the result of steel clashing against steel, set fire to the dry wood.

  “My Queen.” Arkemeya gave her a deep curtsy. “You can’t imagine how many years I’ve waited for this moment.”

  “Foolish girl,” the Queen sneered. “Do you honestly believe that your treachery has surprised my husband?”

  “Your husband is busy at the moment, fucking a human right behind you.”

  “He can fuck whoever he pleases,” the Queen replied with a shrug. “Poor Arkemeya… Even though you’re half-demon, you still think like a human.”