What would he be if he told everyone the secrets he shared with other humans and… nonhumans?“I respect your principles,” Frederick finally nodded. “Now I see why Orune chose you.”With that, the General rose and went over to the portrait of the Emperor. Standing in front of it, he bowed deeply, and then took out a golden medallion from beneath the collar of his rich robes. Whispering something and imbuing the artifact with his power, the General pressed it against the corner of the portrait’s frame. The picture burst into a multicolored flame, which soon disappeared. Beyond it was a niche that contained a very ancient scroll. He picked it up carefully and moved away from the wall. As soon as he did so, the picture returned to its original place, hiding the empty niche once more.Hadjar was shocked. If the General had kept the scroll in a magic safe, not even trusting his own spatial artifact, the value of this treasure would be difficult to overestimate.Returning to the table, Frede
He’d heard about Lord Mancey. Everything he’d heard about this great man had only engendered a feeling of deep respect.“Who are you, young man?” The Lord’s voice boomed. “And why are you stirring up trouble near my fort?”“I beg your pardon, honorable General,” Hadjar bowed even lower. “The long trip here has thrown my nerves into disarray.”Hadjar took the letter out of his spatial ring. As soon as the General saw the seal belonging to Mentor Orune, the expression on his face changed.“Are you a disciple of his?” He asked.“No,” Hadjar decided to add that he might soon become one, however.“That’s good,” the General nodded. “If you’d told me you were, I would’ve killed you immediately.”“Why?” Hadjar asked in surprise.“Old Orune never takes anyone as a disciple,” the Lord snorted. “He refused even my own son! His sworn nephew! However, that doesn’t matter right now, come on in. We have a lot to discuss.”Magnificent Flower disappeared into Frederick’s spatial artifact, he gave a br
“That’s why I’m helping you. Only people like you can protect us from evil. That’s why I’m glad to help you. You might be the one to die in order to save my field one day.”Hadjar smiled again. He liked this simple logic.“Whoa! Whoa, you stupid nag!”He pulled on the reins and stopped his horse in the middle of the fork in the road. It began to nibble at the grass growing there.“That’s all, traveler. I can’t take you any farther. I have to go to the village market.”Hadjar nodded and jumped down from the cart. He’d left a leather wallet among the vegetables. It contained a hundred Imperial coins. With that amount, the old man could buy a herd of horses and twenty excellent, new carts. Although, Hadjar figured he would probably give the money away instead, to the other villagers who also needed something. When it came to mortals, the only way for them to survive was to help and support each other. By the Evening Stars, the world of martial arts lacked that sort of wonderful unity.“T
Eon brought his blades together, forming a single whole. A black sphere flashed in front of their joined tips. Its pull was so strong that the layers of earth that had been scattered everywhere by their first clash rose and flew toward the sphere of darkness. As soon as they touched it, they were reduced to dust, feeding the Spirit Knight’s Technique. Behind him, his Spirit screamed furiously. It fed its power to Mrax, making his Technique several times stronger.The cabin boy almost passed out when he sensed the Technique’s power. Without a doubt, this Spirit Knight would be able to destroy their entire ship and crew with just this one attack.“Monsters...” the boy whispered. “They really do exist.”“Just keep looking,” the pirate officer repeated with a snort.They continued to watch the two swordsmen fight in stunned silence.When the sphere reached a diameter of several feet, the Spirit Knight launched it at his foe with a roar of rage. It tore off his blades and flew with incredi
Hadjar looked up from his beer and gazed at the speaker. He wasn’t surprised to see Eon Mrax in front of him. The sectarian hadn’t really changed since the last time he’d seen him, apart from the new, long scar on his frowning face.“Hello,” Hadjar said.Eon, like before, picked up a jug from a passing serving girl’s tray. The girl started to say something to the impudent man, but then stopped. She could feel the pressure of the Spirit Knight’s aura. In these backwater places, he was like a Lord in the capital — someone a person didn’t want to argue with. With a stuttering, apologetic whisper, the girl darted away, fleeing between the other tables.“You’ve gotten stronger.” Mrax took a sip from the jug. Then, with a grimace, he set it aside. “Shall we go outside or do it right here?”Hadjar drained his beer in one gulp. Wiping his lips, he looked into Eon’s eyes. During his adventures, Hadjar had forgotten that the sect that worshipped the Enemy had been added to his long list of prob
In Empires, especially among the nobles, this method was considered barbaric because of the pain, not to mention the risk involved if one made a mistake, so almost no one used it. That pain had been nothing compared to the pain he was feeling right now. Hadjar dismissed it like it was an annoying mosquito. Paying no attention to the terrible agony, he continued to follow the Technique described in the scroll. After everything he’d been through in the past few weeks, the pain was no worse than a refreshing, icy shower.While continuing to draw in the energy of the powder, he didn’t stop circulating his own. This hadn’t been mentioned in the dragon meditation Technique since dragons couldn’t maintain both processes at once because of their physiology. The human energy body, more flexible when it came to cultivation, could.And so, gradually, after going through his heart, the energy of the powder moved to his solar plexus, getting closer to the Core of his energy body. With a sharp push
“We’re free hunters who have walked this land for centuries. Fighting the Dah’Khasses almost took away the most important part of us — our freedom. Besides me, there are few in the tribes who know its true value.”Hadjar could name at least one other orc who did. Her name wasPurling Song. By the High Heavens, she really did make the best rabbit stew Hadjar had ever eaten. By some strange coincidence... or maybe not a coincidence, she was also the wife of one of the two warriors the orc’s prophetic dream had chosen.According to the fairy tales, Helmer always kept his word, if he wanted to…Hadjar looked at his ring.“The Lord of Nightmares doesn’t always give people nightmares, does he? Sometimes, he sends them dreams... or prophecies.”The old orc looked up from the flames and turned to Hadjar. His eyes lit up with something that Hadjar, even after he became a Lord, would not want to encounter.“One day, little hunter, you’ll learn that a mind without wisdom is like a blade without
The shaman, who was still staring into eternity, bared his lower fangs. One of them was broken, and the other had been almost completely filed down.Hadjar shuddered. Steppe Fang had already told him which orcs got their fangs cut off.“It’s a good night for two former slaves to talk,” the old orc took a drag on his pipe and exhaled a ring of smoke. “Ask your questions, little hunter.” “The Sword Spirit’s seal-”“It’s the mark of a Weapon’s essence,” the shaman interrupted him. “Don’t call this entity a Spirit. You insult your ancestors.”Hadjar nodded. He realized he’d known that much, but habit had made him call it a Spirit anyway.“Steppe Fang tried to explain it to me, but-”“He doesn’t know much.” The shaman shook the ash out of his pipe into the palm of his hand and then threw it into the fire. “I once served an alchemist who taught me a lot.”Hadjar realized that the shaman held no grudge against his former master.“He wasn’t my only master,” the old orc predicted his question
Holding his red-skinned friend by the shoulder, Hadjar gazed out at the vast steppes of the borderlands. Wherever he looked, the ground was covered in golden waves of grass swaying in time to the gusts of wind. Their crests glistened in the bright, midday sun.Atop the hill, among the flowing golden waves, stood a short, green-skinned female orc. Her thick, black hair was pulled back in a tight braid, showing her long ears. They were even longer and more pointed than an elf’s. She had a slim waist, an ample bosom and hips, a small nose, and high, delicate cheekbones. If not for her green skin and fangs, she would’ve been considered beautiful even amongst humans. A tall, red-eyed wolf stood beside her. Hadjar immediately recognized the animal —Steppe Fang’s loyal friend. The female orc held a kind of glaive, except this one had a very short shaft and an incredibly huge, monstrous blade.“How do I look, North Wind?”Hadjar examined the orc. His left arm had become a stump, his right leg