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Heavenward on Golden Wings (Original Progression Fantasy)

Reader mode
BK I, 30: The Daemonic Inclination
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Thirty: The Daemonic Inclination



    Daemons really are remarkable creatures. Humans had studied them for millennia and were still making new discoveries. Their abilities and skills were varied and infinite and they were constantly developing more as they adapted to their ways of life and environments. It was they and their emulation that formed the basis of all humankind had developed.

    Humans alone had innumerable languages and yet all daemons could communicate with each other, across species and with others who originated from distant unfamiliar lands, something impossible for humans.
    Using their daemonic true essence, they could communicate with each other by conveying messages, feelings sights, sounds, smells and images straight to the minds of others. This was how Sela and many other beasts conversed with their fellows and with Valerian. But not all daemons relied on this.

    There were some that could mimic human speech just like parrots and such as well as others who did not care for this form of communication. Furthermore, the transmission of thoughts, senses and feelings wasn't exactly comfortable or easily decipherable for most humans. Valerian was different. He grew up in a home with many daemons and thus was used to it. It was not so for others.

    That didn't matter though. Powerful beasts like Gulsalma and Pan did not have to communicate that way. They could actually speak. Though it wasn't really speech so much as it was a manipulation of essence to vocalise words. This was better and in fact, it was even a practice adopted by humans for both long-range communication and private messaging.

    By filling their energies with whatever it was they wanted to say and then transmitting directly to a recipient they could exchange messages both privately and publicly. For long-distance communication, they could use special talismans like the one which Avery used to receive the call from the rescue patrol to boost the range of transmission.

    This was just one application of daemonic true essence. It is both physical and spiritual and the full implications of that are not fully understood. That notwithstanding, there was one thing clear. Daemons did not only rely on instinct. Unlike normal beasts who gained all their knowledge from instinct and personal experience, daemons had something much better.

    The spiritual nature of their essence allowed them to pass information and skills down to their descendants. Daemonic essence contains not just life force, but also memories and soul. This allowed them to pass down their memories and experiences in addition to their blood legacies.

    Valerian was neither beast nor daemon but he was particularly sensitive to essence due in part because he was an arcanist but also due to his strange physique. It was not limited to eyesight, smell and hearing. If it was he would never have detected the peculiarities of the essence in the dragon's valley. He had not needed to actively search for it to find it.

    Thus, in absorbing the dragon's true essence as he did Valerian also got a heady dose of its memories and feelings. Its last moments of life especially were particularly piquant and featured. It was enthralling. Valerian found himself sinking into them. It was like a daydream. A dream where he was the dragon, seeing what it saw and feeling what it felt.


    His name was Gleamscales. His mother had named him such because his scales had gleamed the brightest among all his clutch mates. He was a Dire Daemon, a figure of unmatched power amongst all the daemons on this side of the mountain. Despite this, he did not form a horde.

    He loved his peace and solitude and saw no need to surround himself with daemons weaker than himself. He did not care for influence or power. He was a dragon, a paragon of power and might. Gleamscales needed no one else.

    Valerian's mind swum in the mix of feeling and memory. The dragon's pride and arrogance were potent. They were ingrained in its very being. For an instant, he wondered if all dragons were walking masses of pride and power like this one was.

    Then again, Gleamscales knew his worth. He was a wyrm, a wingless dragon, descended from a Yazi. He was a class of daemon that stood heads and shoulders above others. He was born with an innate metal attribute, scales stronger than actual steel, claws, teeth and essence too powerful for many to resist.

    He was wealthy beyond compare, lord of an idyllic little vale that was his and his alone. To add to this, he was not far from becoming a Profound Daemon. That was what the other room was for. Once he made that final breakthrough he would have his choice of mates as well as the land and space to raise his own clutch.

    Sadly, Gleamscales was too ambitious. He had everything he needed but he still wanted more. Not content with merely breaking through to the Profound tier he decided to try for a daemonic metamorphosis.
    This was a special ability unique to daemons. Humans had their special cultivation methods that could make them more powerful but daemons primarily relied on themselves and their bloodlines for most of their power.
    However, besides rising through the tiers they could also attempt to directly raise their class and innate abilities using this dangerous method. By forcefully upgrading their blood and essence they could become a higher class of daemon. This was what Gleamscales intended to do.

    He gathered the necessary requirements; the cores of other metal-attributed dragons and daemons, piles of high grade mystic herbs, essence stones and essence-imbued minerals.

    Had he succeeded he would at the very least become a much more powerful daemon and there was the possibility that he could become more like his Yazi ancestor. His cultivation tier might not rise but his innate abilities would soar.

    Dragons were already more powerful than other daemons and humans in their tier. In becoming a higher class of dragon, he would increase this factor of strength by many times. Unfortunately, he failed. In spite of all his preparations and efforts, his body was unable to handle the influx of energy and his own essence didn't adapt to the change.

    Gleamscales was forced to experience first-hand what it was like to have one's body warp and tear itself apart, and thanks to the true essence wafting around, Valerian could too.

    He could feel the dragon's rage, despair and anguish as its blood boiled. He could feel the mounting fear as the essence it had been gathering began to rumble in its meridians, ripping them to shreds as it sought escape.
    He felt second-hand the feeling that came when your core shuddered and shook in the face of a storm of essence, nearly cracking in the process. And worst of all, he felt the explosion that followed when it all came to a head.

    Gleamscales blood vessels broke and his meridians burst whilst he was still alive and unable to do anything about it. Even when his body rent itself apart and his lifeblood flowed out onto the cave floor, Gleamscales did not die immediately. His own vitality and cultivation were too high for that to happen. Alas, that did not stop him from dying in the end.

    All he had left was his despair and anger.

    'Why?' he questioned.

    He couldn't help the anger he felt towards the heavens and their unfairness. This was supposed to be his moment of triumph. He was a dragon. A creature that stood at the apex of daemonkind. This was supposed to be a metamorphosis that would start his personal legend and it was all for nought.


    Whilst all this only took place mentally. The experiences that Valerian's body was going through were not any less significant. He had long since lost feeling and control over his physical form and being embroiled in the dragon's experiences made it such that he had no presence of mind to tell what was happening.

    His eyes were blank and unseeing. His body was driven by instinct.

    However, Valerian was not the only one in the chamber. The ever-faithful and watchful Avery was still there and the transformation taking place was happening before his horrified eyes. He was finding it hard to keep himself from rushing over. Unfortunately, he had already made his choice and his master was now too far gone. Stopping him now would be the opposite of helping. As such, he could only watch.

    Before entering the cavern, Valerian was in the meridian opening stage. He had succeeded in opening three of his eight meridians. Yet at this moment, he had five open. Right before Avery's eyes, his qi levels had risen dramatically and as if self-aware forced open two more meridians.

    The whole thing was shocking and painful to watch. There was no bracing for it. No method to help the process along. Just brute force. Even a normal cultivator would have to space the process out.
    Opening the meridians was a risky endeavour if it went wrong they could be damaged and that will greatly affect future cultivation. In addition to this, they needed time to recover before they could be used again. Right after opening, they would be sore and tender.

    It had taken two years for Valerian to open the three he had. His was more violent and harmful and the time needed to recover was proportionately longer. But he did not have that chance now. His body did not pause. With each opening, it would shudder and then continue with the process.

    More and more essence flowed into his body transforming into qi to begin the next attempt. Strangely, he did not scream or cry in pain. Avery had no idea of knowing that Valerian wasn't present in the mental sense. That his mind was far away.

    All Avery could sense were the ever-increasing levels of qi and the numerous breakthroughs that his charge was having. He could only look on as Valerian's power continued to rise. Eventually, the sixth meridian opened, then the seventh and then finally the eighth.

    In front of him, viscous, golden qi began to rise from Valerian's body. It formed a haze of energy and power around him. He had broken through to the qi manifestation stage. Qi could finally leave his body and be used for external skills. This seemed to excite him. A golden glimmer could be seen on his body, nourishing his flesh and strengthening it.

    Valerian flexed his legs and pulsed his qi, leaping high into the air. Avery watched with astonished eyes as his master landed right next to the dragon but what happened afterwards nearly had his jaw falling so low and hard it would have entrenched itself in the rocky floor.

    Valerian's golden qi covered his hands shaping itself such that they looked large and taloned. Using these enhanced limbs it reached into one of the gashes in the dragon's flank and tore out a long strip of flesh. Holding the bloody thing in his hands he brought it to his mouth.

    Before Avery could come to his senses, He consumed it and then reached out to tear off more.

    Daemon meat was a great source of essence. Valerian had been eating it for years. However, he had only been eating the meat of low-level daemons or beasts with daemonic lineages. Even that meat had to be specially prepared before eating.

    You couldn't just go and eat raw daemon meat. It could kill you. Ignoring poisons, parasites and diseases, daemon meat was tough and charged with power. It had to be prepared with herbs and ingredients to lessen its potency and make it more palatable for humans. Also, the more powerful the tier or class of daemon the greater the essence and the danger in its meat.

    Dragons being powerful daemons would of course be high on the list. And yet his master was busy shoving its flesh into his mouth.

    Forget its cultivation, it was a Steel Scaled Wyrm. A daemon known for its defensive abilities, and physical strength. Its flesh should be thick, muscly and tough. Valerian didn't seem to know that though. He just kept ripping out chunks and eating them with his bare hands.

    The effects of that began to show. The amount of qi in Valerian's body began to skyrocket even further. Apparently, whatever was going on hadn't ended. Splattered in bodily fluids, Valerian's qi pool just continued to expand till the word pool became too inadequate a name. It was a veritable sea of qi. A quick comparison told Avery that it was at least twice his.

    Mercifully, it soon reached its limit and stopped growing. However, Valerian kept eating and the vortex around him had not ceased its motion. He continued eating his way into its abdomen, taking in more and more of the dragon's true essence. The faint haze of qi around his body flicked and began to grow less translucent.

    This was sign that he was now in the qi condensation stage. He was getting ready to form his own core crystal. Once that happened he would be a true tellurian practitioner. Oddly, Avery couldn't help but have conflicting feelings about what was happening.

    He wanted to be happy. Valerian's progress down the tellurian path had been full of so many troubles. He had suffered ridicule as well as hurt just to get where he was. They had been reliant on his mysterious maternal legacy this whole time and that was not without its costs. From the start, when he noticed Valerian's qi rising he recognised its work.

    That was the only reason he allowed it to continue. But seeing what it was doing to the boy was gut-wrenching. Who knew what issues would come from this? It was always stressed that quick progress was shallow and unsteady. This was so quick it was nearly instant. Still, Valerian's tellurian skills were always going to be sub-par anyway.

    Be that as it may, Avery knew he was trying to allay his own fears. He was deliberately ignoring the fact that his charge had just gone through what was sure to be an extremely painful process. He had just guzzled the equivalent of lamp oil in an attempt to light a twig. The effects it was having on his insides were anyone's guess.

    The boy was in a weird maddened state, splattered with blood and other fluids and still chewing on meat that should kill him. Even so, Avery did not stop him. He doubted he could at this point. All he did was take out every bit of healing, recovery or support artefact and medicine he had on his person and place it within easy reach. He would be ready for anything.


    Author's Note:
    In Chinese mythology, the Yaxi is one of the nine sons of the great dragon god. He is the one depicted on weapons, military banners and pretty much anything to do with war and battles which are his domain. He is also one of the few who actually looks the part of a dragon.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK I, 31: The Ancient Will
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Thirty-one: The Ancient Will


    The tellurian practitioner tier is the first and the most basic one in the earthly cultivation path. It is the foundation on which everything else is built. Until a person has completed it he or she isn't qualified to call him or herself a tellurian practitioner. Hence the title; true practitioner. Till then, one is still a mortal and not an actual cultivator.

    Once a person is discovered to possess qi, they would have to train and cultivate through five important stages. The first is the bone transformation stage. Here the tellurian prospect would use his or her newly awakened qi to cleanse and strengthen the skeleton.

    Qi is life force and physical energy. The greater and better the physique, greater the effects and the growth of qi. The skeleton is the framework for the body. It provides surfaces for the attachment of muscles and organs. It protects the vulnerable bits and produces the most important thing in the physical self, blood.

    Blood is the medium for essence, both qi and arcane energy. Bettering the skeleton improves the blood as well and the blood would circulate through the body bringing about the evolution of all the other constituents.
    The second is the flesh transformation stage. The name is a bit of a misnomer though since it isn't only the muscles that are transformed. There exist a variety of methods and training styles that could improve the organs, muscles, skin and all other 'fleshy' bits.

    The first two stages of the tellurian path are known collectively as the preparatory phase. This is because the whole reason for going through them in the first place is primarily to boost the quality, structure and general vitality of a person's body.

    This does not mean that they are not important. It is just that they are there so that people could raise their physical standards to the minimum required for the third stage. That is the meridian opening stage.
    There exist eight extraordinary meridians in every body. These meridians are channels or routes for energy to travel in the body. A tellurian could open these vessels and then use them to channel his or her qi through his or her body. However, the opening of the meridians is a dangerous venture that could go very wrong if not properly prepared for.

    Thus, the reason for upgrading the body beforehand so it could handle the stress. Without a strong enough vitality, a person might not properly recover from the process. Even then, if his physical resilience is not up to par the meridians might burst during the opening. Finally, the Qi collected and refined during this time increases the qi pool and provides the fuel for the opening of the meridians.

    Once the meridians are all open and the circuit complete, qi can fill them and then, diffuse from the minute pores in them and into the body. Then it can be exuded from the body. This is the manifestation stage. Besides the ability to externalise qi, there is nothing special about this stage.

    That is if the ability to use tellurian skills is considered as nothing special. All the famous special skills attributed to tellurians required them to get to this stage before they could be used. All the sword beams, protections, explosions and the like started here.

    The final stage is qi condensation. It requires one to take his or her qi pool and then compress all that energy till it formed a crystalline core in the pool's place. With that done a person would have created his or her own qi core. A vessel with scores more times the energy storing capacity of the qi pool. Not just that, the quality and intensity of the qi would improve by multiple times.
    It was only when a person formed a core that he or she could be said to have consolidated the first tier be that person tellurian or arcanist. A ranking that Valerian was close to qualifying for.


    Deep in the space that housed Valerian's qi pool.


    An immense pool of qi swirled around a central spot. It wasn't a whirlpool. Whirlpools sucked things down into the depths. This swirl gathered the energy changing it from its tea-like consistency to that of a soup and from that to a thick gravy. The sea of qi shrunk continuously becoming more and more purified. The power it gave off increased as well.

    As time went on a small crystal began to form. It started out the size of a grain of sand and then slowly increased in size. This small crystal drained all the qi in the sea and then went on to draw in the dregs from Valerian's body and meridians.

    His body completely empty, Valerian's newly formed core crystal rose in the space glittering like a gem in the sunlight. All that was left was for it to release some of the changed qi back into the body and meridians to finish the process. That was how the process normally went anyway.

    However, nothing about Valerian's tellurian cultivation had ever been normal. Just before the core crystal emitted its first pulse of qi, a mysterious force came over it and seized it. At the time, Valerian was still stuck, quaged in the mire of Gleamscales' memories but it grabbed him as well and dragged him out.

    Valerian didn't even have time to adjust or return from his delirious state before he felt the presence of that alien force weighing down on him.

    Whatever it was, it was alive, it was immense, it was powerful and it was old. It was so old and ancient that it seemed immemorial. That was the first impression he got from the presence. It was a peculiar will, a psychic force that was pressing down on him and everything he was.

    As it was, Valerian couldn't stand the pressure it generated. He felt like an ant before a god. Like an inconsequential grain of sand that could be washed away by the slightest ripple of power, it sent his way. Despite that, he knew that it was not doing that intentionally. In fact, it wasn't doing it at all. It had taken no actions against him. It was just there and that simple state of existence was what was giving him that crushing feeling.

    Valerian was terrified. He rightly recognised the space as one of his inner pools and yet here was this … thing. It had trespassed in his very core and taken control. The feeling was stomach-turning, like leaving your house for a few hours and coming back to find that someone moved in and played in your room, worn your clothes, eaten your food and was lying in your sheets.

    Valerian felt more than a little violated. It was a very distressing situation. Finding yourself with an intruder but powerless before it. Alas, Valerian had never really been a passive person, even when the odds were against him.

    Marshalling his forces, Valerian launched an attack containing everything he had. He targeted the immaterial foe dwelling in his qi space. It was a formless attack, little more than a forceful yell that carried his fear and outrage, backed by both of his cultivation bases. It sought to banish the intruder, to shoo it away or carry it out with its force.

    It did neither. Valerian was sure he struck it but his attack might as well have been that of a mosquito on a mountain. It didn't even count as an irritation. It was still an affront though and his ill-advised attack was responded to in kind.

    The moment he sent it he felt great guilt and knew he had done wrong but he couldn't take it back.

    A formless weight came upon him. He thought the presence was crushing before but now he readjusted his position. This was crushing! The pressure upon him seemed to squash his very soul. His mental avatar crumpled and fell, metaphysical bones creaking and blood vessels rupturing.

    He had been wrong. He had been stupid. What could he have possibly done to an entity powerful to invade his qi centre, manipulate his body and summon his mental avatar?
    The fault was not completely his. Bear in mind that Valerian had not been in the right state of mind in a while. In some sense, he hadn't even been in his mind. That strange instinct had shoved his consciousness to the side and then he got sucked into the memories of a dragon.

    He had just been through a physical and mental wringer. He was drained and tired. Then he had to find someone trespassing in his core. It was no wonder why he swung at it. Now, he was suffering the consequences.
    Even so, he did not want to die. He tried to get back out, to stand, to get away but he couldn't. The pressure locked him down. When he tried to stand it increased. Rendered motionless, Valerian was scanned by the strange presence. He was laid bare before it. He might as well have been naked and translucent. It looked at and through his mind and soul, seeing it all.

    All of a sudden, a grudging approval came from the entity and the pressure let up. Evidently, whatever it saw in him had impressed it. It raised him up to stand on his unsteady feet and then reached out to assess his physical form.

    What came next was a feeling of disdain and contempt that left Valerian feeling ashamed. This time he did not meet its standards. He felt like he had disappointed it somehow. The urge to apologise and explain sprung up within him but Valerian suppressed it. What was happening? Why was he feeling this way towards this invasive force?

    No answer came his way but what did was a strong compulsion.

    Sleep.


    Out in the real world, Avery watched with worried eyes as Valerian finally stopped tearing away at the dragon. He stood stock still halfway into its abdomen. The haze of qi still surrounded him, illuminating his dirty form. Stale blood covered his lips and dripped down his front. His hands were still sheathed in the taloned qi shrouds but he did nothing but stand there.

    Thinking that whatever was happening had stopped, Avery prepared to go to him. His plans immediately changed when he felt the vortex of essence around his charge pick up speed. In moments, it became a violent maelstrom that sucked in all the free essence within three kilometres of Valerian.

    Avery was beyond confused. 'What could possibly be going on now he wondered?'

    From what he could sense, Valerian had already formed a core and become a true practitioner. What more use could he have for all that qi?

    The veritable mini-tornado of essence centred itself on Valerian and his own qi responded. It collected itself and shot out through the eye of the energy storm. Following that, all the energy began to calm down. It condensed itself and enveloped the young man, forming a large, two-metre tall, golden egg that hovered half a metre off the ground.

    'What in the heavens is going on?' Avery wondered.


    Inside the egg.

    Valerian floated insensate in the slush of essence. Unconsciously, his body curled up into a foetal position. His clothes, armour, all of them were sent out of the egg to fall on the ground below. Now naked, he stayed curled up in his egg waiting for his rebirth.

    Under the influence of that ancient will, his newly formed crystal cracked and crumbled releasing all the energy it contained back into the space. Afterwards, his cultivation base began unravelling. It wasn't just his qi core. His meridians began to close and every bit of qi within him retreated back into his core. Same for his arcane vessel and energy. More and more essence poured into the space. So much that it seemed full to bursting.

    But this was just the start. His bones began to grind themselves to dust and his muscles began to rip themselves into confetti. The internal organs liquefied and their contents evaporated. All his hair disappeared and his skin turned even more elastic and translucent. Soon, he was nothing but a bag of pulp with two distinct pools of energy hanging in a golden egg.

    This done, the ancient presence let his qi flow outwards again. Then, his arcane energy followed. The two forces mixed with the yolk causing it to glow brightly. The essence that formed the egg albumin also chose this moment to flow into it as well.

    Meanwhile, the presence was now in Valerian's arcane pool, looking around like a tourist. It took note of the congealed arcane energy that showed that Valerian was in the energy condensation stage and passed on without another glance. Its true interest was in the two brightly glowing orbs of essence that hung over the pool.

    One was steel grey and the other a light cyan. It observed them as if pondering on whether to break them down too but reconsidered. They'd remain for now. Instead, it turned its attention back to Valerian, watching as every single cell was saturated with the essence. It was only when they couldn't absorb any more energy that it took action.

    Like a potter, that ancient presence began moulding the mix of essence, qi, arcane energy and blood back into Valerian's body. The bones formed first.

    They were pearly and strong. Far stronger than Valerian's first set. Titanossis or titan's bone, one of the precious essence imbued metals in the cavern, was called such because of its hardness and toughness but it was definitely weaker than Valerian's new skeleton. There was something strange about them though. They were hollowed, possessing large cavities like those of a bird.

    This did not compromise their sturdiness but it did make them a lot lighter than they should be. They were barely any heavier than a normal set of human bones. As for the marrow, it was pure and possessed a frightening vitality. The bones had barely even formed and they were already producing blood.

    The blood was a bright crimson fluid that carried that vital essence and life force through the fast-appearing flesh. The energy it carried was shocking to the extreme and faster, flowing nearly twice as fast as it should. This would allow it to supply nigh endless amounts of energy and essence to his organs and muscles as well as replenish cells and heal his body better.

    His muscle fibres were no different. They grouped themselves and attached themselves to his bones to create a physique that was multiple times better than it was before. His organs came in; better, more efficient and more purposed for their respective tasks and his skin was nearly four times tougher and more resilient.

    Valerian Steelborn's entire physical self was recreated. A healthier, superior, enhanced self. Best of all, all of those old internal wounds his flailing attempts at cultivation had caused were cured. All of the impurities and issues that had accumulated in his body from abusing essence-imbued substances had been removed from his body.

    These things had all brought down the grade of his body and were just lying in wait to crop up down the line and cause even more issues in the future. However, thanks to the machinations of the ancient entity they would no longer be a problem.

    His body fixed, the ancient will began working on his cultivation. Previously, Valerian's tellurian cultivation could not even be called that. His arcane one was progressing but his tellurian one was hopeless. That was why the entity had so much contempt when it examined him. There was trash and beneath that there was Valerian.

    Nonetheless, it was changing that. His newly formed body was draining any essence fed to it like it was dying of thirst.

    His meridians had changed from pipes to canals. Their walls were thick and strong. They only required a prompt from the ancient deity to open up. The highways were now open for use and his qi did not waste any time. It travelled through the opened routes and then as if experimenting moved through his body and then diffused outwards and then back in. Satisfied it went back into his qi space and began preparing to form a core.

    His arcane energy was the same. It run throughout his form and transformed it back into a perfect arcane vessel. The former one had ended up degraded by his efforts at cultivating his qi but now it was perfect again. Done. It poured out of his body and then was slowly reabsorbed.

    It only took ten minutes for Valerian's entire body to be remodelled. His physique could now be compared to those legendary physiques. It was superior to his old one in every way. However, he remained floating in the egg. There was still a lot of essence left and the process would only end when he had absorbed it all.

    In fact, it was already entering his energy pools and focusing on his shoulder blades in particular for some reason.

    Seeing this, the ancient will gave a pleased smile. Despite this, it worried a little. It had just done a lot for Valerian. Probably, more than it should have but even that would not ensure success and safety. It thought back to Valerian's former body.

    So much of that could have been avoided. Woefully, from what it gleaned from his memories the boy was alone with no one to guide him. No access to the teachings or arts. None of the protections, resources or aid that he should have as part of his legacy. It was beyond regrettable but it happened. He was lucky he had gotten this far. But this was already past the acceptable limit of what was permissible.

    The rest would depend on him and his efforts. With any luck, he would make it. If not, he would fall like some of his ancestors. All he could do was give him the foundation required to aspire to the heavens. That was the most a father could do.

    It faded away slowly, keeping its hold over him till the last second as if reluctant to let go. Too many of his kind had perished on this world. The boy had greatness in him along with a strong drive and an even stronger will. Now he had a nigh peerless foundation. He just hoped it would be enough.

    Strive for the heavens hatchling. Your family awaits you.

     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK I, CH 32: The Awakened Legacy
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Thirty-two: The Awakened Legacy



    Valerian woke up submerged in fluid. His eyes were large and greatly adapted to the depth and he breathed easily despite being underwater. But wait … he was moving. It took a while before he realised he wasn't the one moving. Well, he was and he wasn't.

    He wasn't in control of his body. He was just a passenger. Also, this wasn't his body. It felt natural and suited to him but he knew instinctively that he wasn't a fish or whatever this was. He reassessed himself and … confirmed this.

    He was a giant fish, a massive sea lord that was to whales what they were to tuna. Stretching at least thirty-two kilometres long, he was surprised to discover that he was an actual fish and not a whale of some sort. His scales were diamond hard and his teeth were like sabres yet in spite of his size he was lightning quick in the water. What fish could be this big?

    The fish continued on his merry way, living his life, Valerian along for the ride. He roamed the endless oceans without opposition. Calling him a sea lord had not been a mistake. He ruled the waters. There was no creature that would dare stand in his way or contest his might. The supposedly mighty dragons scurried out of his path knowing that should he be hungry they'd become snacks.

    Power, wealth, influence, and territory. He lacked nothing but still, he was not happy. He felt limited by the waters, restrained somehow by their depths. The oceans only went so deep and so far before you met rocky earth. Sadly, he could never leave. Not without dying.


    Oh, how he envied the birds. He could see them from his place in the waters traversing the skies. The skies weren't as limited as the waters. They did not share their space with the earth and they had no upper limit. Beyond them were the heavens and beyond that the aether, the celestial domain, the void that held up the stars.

    The space above was limitless and he dreamed of it even in his waking moments. As the years went by, he grew even larger and more powerful. He moved through the waters putting down dragon emperors and remaining the uncontested sovereign of the waters. There was no place in the oceans he did not know. He had wandered them and knew them like the spines in his fins.

    He began spending even more and more time looking out of the waters at the skies above. Wishing that he too could journey through them. Then one day he asked himself.

    Why not? Why can't I?

    Because he was a fish and sadly, not the flying kind. The oceans were his domain and he could have nothing else. Growing depressed, he began to feel stifled in his own territory. The waters that he had swum through joyfully in his youth no longer held their wonder. His kingdom was turning into a prison.


    The sovereign of the waters tried to forget the heavens and be content with the depths and failed. He was lonely. Being the best had that effect. He had no equals and being a unique, divine creature of the oceans meant that there were no others of his kind.

    Then one day, he was passing by and saw a carp undergoing that transformation to become a dragon. He floated there, awestruck and experiencing an epiphany. This was a transformation he had seen many times but he had never truly understood its significance.

    A carp was a pitiful creature by his standards. He didn't even spare them a glance when he went by. Every beast ate them, even daemons did when there was nothing else to eat. Dragons were different. They were delicious! They were also mighty daemons with incredible innate abilities. Many were divine like himself.

    The two creatures had no actual relation and were probably more different than night and day. Carp were fish and dragons were in some sense, divine serpents. And yet … carps became dragons. Two completely dissimilar beasts. The carp could accumulate the power, the wisdom and the will and become something so great and powerful. It could become a different daemon.

    'Why can't I?' he asked himself.

    This sparked a fierce ambition in the ocean sovereign's heart and he began to prepare himself for the change of a lifetime. Success would mean the achievement of all his dreams and failure would mean death but he cared not.

    The division between the skies and the waters was perhaps far greater than that between the heavens and the earth. There was a system in place for earthly creatures to reach the heavens. There was a precedent. There was none for the oceans. At least, not in the way that he wanted. And the great fish wasn't limiting himself to the sky. He aspired to the heavens and everything beyond them.

    What stood in his way was the firmament. Forget the dragon gate! The firmament is that thing that separates the waters below and the waters above. What he wished for was not an ascension per se but a transformation from ocean dweller to sky dweller. All the odds were against him and he knew it, but he did not let that stop him.


    The world itself shook when he rose from the waters and crossed the firmament. The heavens, the earth and the oceans stood witness as the impossible became reality. Fate itself was overturned as with sheer power and will alone, the great and divine Sovereign of the waters broke through and changed its own innate nature.

    Kun became Peng. The former sovereign soared into the heavens, a new daemon.

    His scales became feathers, not losing their hardness but becoming new, glossy and golden. His tail lost its gristle and turned into a waterfall of long beautiful feathers. His fins transformed, becoming two enormous golden wings that shadowed the waters below. Two developed into feet retaining the scales but growing four massive toes and impossibly sharp talons. His preternatural teeth dissolved and covered his mouth, becoming a glorious beak.

    The transformation was complete. The Underwater Sovereign, the Great Kun, was no more. In its place was the Golden Winged Peng. A divine daemon which flew off, eager to explore its new world.


    Alas, not everyone was happy with the birth of a new sky lord. There were many that were affronted by his transformation. There were others that wished to devour him and take whatever essence had allowed him to achieve his impossible feat. And others still rightly recognised that there was a new contender.

    Curiously, the Peng was happy at this attention. He welcomed all challengers. There had been a serious deficiency of action in his life. In his former kingdom, there had been no one stupid enough to dare act disrespectfully towards him. The mighty dragon kings and emperors and all the other ocean lords trembled in his wake. Here, things were different.

    There were more varieties of daemons. Kinds he had never encountered before. Dragons he had never eaten before. Horde Lordes he had never fought with. That is not to say that he defeated everyone who came his way. But even the feeling of loss was a novelty. It gave him reason to improve, forced him to hone his new abilities and offered him adventures he'd never had in the waters.


    He'd been right. The heavens were infinite and now, he could even travel over the land. There were enemies to be made, others to befriend, delicacies to sample and battles to be had. All in all, the Peng lived a life that fulfilled his dreams and more.

    As the golden-winged Peng, he never stopped soaring. First was the ascension to godhood and then was him taking his place as a Monarch of the heavens. What's more, he knew his journey would never end. Perched on an exalted cloud in his domain, he could look down past the celestial bodies at the worlds below. He could look out at the infinite cosmos and best of all, beside him was his family, his flock. He was at peace.

    The heavens are endless. All are free to aspire to whatever lofty heights they dream of. This was something he strove to teach all who looked up to him. Freedom did exist! Seize power! Gather will! Do not relent! And the impossible will not remain so for you.


    With a start, Valerian returned to his body. For a moment, he was unsure of where he was, who he was. Just a second ago, he had been a true god, a divine being, a Golden Winged Peng … a PENG! His mind swam with this information, with the visions and things he had just experienced.

    This was not like it had been with Gleamscales. Then, he had retained a sense of self. He and the dragon were two different entities. With the KunPeng, he had lived as it. He had been the KunPeng and the KunPeng had been him.

    It was all so confusing. He had seen things. Witnessed unimaginable events. He may not have experienced the KunPeng's entire life but he did go through a portion of some of its significant memories. The incident did not leave him shaken, but with a strange feeling of pride and loss. There was also a yearning for the sky. To soar into the heavens until he reached his ancestor's domain.

    That last bit stuck in his mind. 'His ancestor's domain'.

    He finally knew what that ancient, divine presence was. He now understood why it had felt so familiar, so paternal. Why he had felt wrong and guilty when he lashed out at it. Why he had felt pride when it approved of him. Why he felt shame when it looked at his body with contempt?

    The ancient entity was the true Golden Winged Peng. It was his Ancestor. The realisation was a shocker. His grandfather had always speculated that his mother's legacy was a high-ranked one but this … this went beyond anything that anyone could have suspected. Who would have thought that he would be the descendant of a Primordial Divinity?

    Epiphany over, Valerian tried to open his eyes and get up but found he couldn't. He was curled into a ball, trapped within unfamiliar spherical walls and covered in liquefied essence. There wasn't even room to move.

    He wanted to break free but an inexplicable instinct told him to wait. He shouldn't let the remaining essence go to waste. He should absorb that first and then force his way out. Getting ready to do so he found that he was already doing that unconsciously.

    Quickly, he directed his gaze inward. There were two streams of energy roving through his body. Somehow, the Manifold Elemental Incarnations was active without his conscious will. Then there was his qi. It was moving as well. He could feel it moving in a mysterious circuit through his body. As someone whose qi had never responded in such a manner, the feeling was alien to him.

    The two forces were active in his body, somehow moving in tandem. One an azure blue, the other a bright gold. They were conducted through his body side by side, twin energies from the same source that worked together to improve themselves and improve him and his cultivation.

    Given how entranced Valerian was by the sight he could be forgiven for not immediately noticing what was going on but once he did he burst into joyful laughter accompanied by tears. Somehow, he didn't know how it was possible but he was dual cultivating.

    Previously, he had to switch between arcane cultivation and qi cultivation but presently he was doing both at the same time. He no longer had to worry about time constraints or that he would fall behind in one or the other. He applied some focus and was delighted to see them respond. The energy streams grew more active and sped up as they went through their energy circuits.

    The essence around him was quickly sucked in, splitting up to join the two energy streams and swiftly being refined into the respective forces. Valerian couldn't be happier. Today was a day of impossible things but he had certainly never dreamed of this. Keeping his focus, he made sure to memorise the feelings that came with his new fused method and their route. He couldn't afford to forget this method. What would he do then?

    A thought came to him and he dived into his mindscape. The human body possessed three energy pools or dantian as some of the eastern lands called them. The first lay behind the navel and served as the storage place for qi and physical energy. The second was beside the heart and stored spiritual or arcane energy. The last was a space for mental or psychic energy between the eyebrows.

    Unfortunately, most people would never open any of them. Only cultivators could make any true use of them. What energy would mortals store? How would they store it when they couldn't control it? Even the majority of cultivators would only ever open one. Under normal circumstances, humans could only have one force so only that energy pool would be open and active.

    In addition to this, the earliest the mind pool could be opened was in the King tier. About sixty per cent of cultivators never surpassed the first tier. How many could reach the third? As such, there were very few who knew that the pools were even connected. Those who did could never know what that felt like. The others would be forever closed to them.

    Only the top level powers at the pinnacle of the King tier or higher would benefit from the knowledge or even the benefits of having more than a single pool at their disposal. Well, people like them and people like Valerian. Those who had dual forces would have two open, usable pools at the very beginning. They were also the only ones that stood a chance at opening all three. The benefits of this, a rare few knew. Valerian certainly didn't.
    At best, he knew that could monitor both pools at the same time and he did so. He looked into the qi space and arcane space and found himself looking not at the seas of energy that once filled them but rather at empty space. There was nothing in them. Nothing save two colossal crystals and two sparks hovering over them.

    His arcane space held three of them. Two were familiar to him, they were his elemental cruxes. Each was a ball of essence gathered from his environment, an effect of his Manifold Incarnations. The last one, an arcane crystal, had not been there the last time.

    The thing in his qi space worried him though. Instead of a crystal, there was a large gold pearl. He could clearly sense that that was his qi core but from what he knew cores were crystalline. Essence formed crystals when compacted. It happened both in nature and in cultivation. Why did his qi form a metallic pearl?

    Oh who cared?

    He'd find out later. Valerian was beyond ecstatic. He had attained the first tier for both his forces. He had formed cores and each was a dozen times bigger than the first qi core he formed. Plus, he finally knew the source of his legacy and it was one to be proud of. Anything else could wait. He couldn't wait to show his family.

    As if on cue the essence in his sphere run out. Opening his eyes to the darkness, Valerian enthusiastically pushed outwards. The walls cracked and fell apart, letting him out. Light came rushing in but his eyes didn't even have to adjust. He spun around, eventually spotting Avery at the entrance of the cavern.

    It felt like it had been years since he last saw the man. A smile sprung up on his face. He had so much to tell him. To show him. However, when he moved in his direction he saw the man take a step back, terror on his face. He nearly even fell over himself in his attempt to get away.

    "Avery! What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.


    Avery had been watching the golden egg for nearly an hour and he was prepared to wait forever if he had to. There was no way he was going back without his young master. A full day passed and he was beginning to worry. He even sent one of the soldiers ahead to get help from DaleGuard.

    None of them had any transmission talismans with the range necessary to call for help. The best was given to the fastest soldier. All he had to do was get in range and make the call. When he did so, Steelborns would land in less than an hour. That was their current lifeline. Avery did not know what else to do.

    Thankfully, he caught the cracks forming on the shell. Anticipating Valerian's return he made his way closer. Then the egg all but exploded. Seeing this, he nearly run forward to check on his charge. Unluckily, out of the dispersing egg shards came a daemon. Now, Avery couldn't get away fast enough.

    The most eye-catching feature was the wings. They were enormous metallic things that sprung open, spreading to reveal a six-metre wingspan. They were made of gold but the thing they unfurled to reveal was even stranger.

    The daemon was outlined in an intense golden energy but Avery could make it out. It was humanoid and naked, only with large steel spikes emerging from its shoulders, elbows, knees and heels. Its toe and fingernails glinted in the light revealing a grey metallic sheen. It didn't have hair just black, needle-like bristles that stuck out its scalp with a feathery golden crest at the top.

    Avery didn't know what it was but every instinct and sense he had told him to run. If he was lucky, it would not have noticed him yet. If not then he was already dead. Too late! It turned and saw him. Backpedalling hastily, he almost tripped over himself. That's when he heard its voice.

    "Avery! What's wrong?"

    Stunned, he took a closer look, finally registering its familiar facial features. His instincts were still blaring at him to get away but taking a chance he asked.

    "Young master! Is that you?"


    Author's Notes:

    So ends Book One. Worry not, there are four more books to go, each longer than this. For now, I'll post one chapter here a day but you're free to go to my site (lupineking.com) to read the rest. I also have another series in the NSFW forum; The Dungeon Lord. Feel free to check it out!

    The scenes in this chapter are actually the ones that festered in my mind so much that I started writing this story. I was getting tired of all the dragon stories. I mean, dragons are great. There's a reason they are the ones everyone picks but it gets old and boring after a while. So I tried searching for something else and kept drawing short. If the MCs don't have dragon powers then they have dragon moves or dragon weaponry, pets or waifus.

    So I began imagining the nemesis of the dragon-themed hero and came across the dragon eater that is the Golden-Winged Peng, a divine creature from Chinese mythology that started out as a whale/shark/fish creature called the Kun. The symbolism of the KunPeng is interesting but perhaps more interesting is the story of it devouring so many dragons that the dragon kings had to implore Buddha to intercede on their behalf before they went extinct.

    Anyway, the whole thing got me thinking of a hero with Peng powers and I imagined him getting them. The hows, whys and even the startling realisation that you are the descendant of a dragon-eating god bird played themselves out in my mind and then BOOM Heavenward on Golden Wings was born.

    Thank you all for reading up to this point.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 1: Frightening Revelations
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter One: Frightening Revelations



    "This ... this ... this is unbelievable!" Valan managed to articulate.

    "Trust me, grandfather, it is true", Valerian emphasised to his stunned family. His biggest fear at the moment was that they wouldn't believe him. The looks on their faces weren't exactly what he had hoped for.

    They were all in one of the manor rooms having locked themselves in and cast spells to prevent any mundane or supernatural spying. Avery stood behind Valerian backing up his account of events whiles his uncles and grandparents simply looked on with disbelief in their eyes.

    Evading bandits, entering a strange trance as a result of a weird instinct, devouring the flesh and essence of a dragon, being reborn in a giant egg whilst experiencing snippets of the life of the original golden-winged peng who is your ancestor in a dream state and then waking up in a strange and powerful daemonic form. Who'd believe that?

    The only reason they were still listening to the story was because it was coming from Valerian and confirmed by Avery. Valerian wouldn't lie. Especially about something like this.

    "Perhaps it is best if you show us the transformation first", his grandmother stated.

    "Yes!" Valerian accepted. That'll help. If they saw that they'd have no more doubts.

    "It took a while before I was able to control it well enough. I was barely successful in hiding it from the elder who came to rescue us and his team. During that time, we discovered a few things. Err... you might want to give me some more space".

    They quickly gave him some more room. Valerian nodded and initiated the change. First, a soft, translucent golden qi encapsulated his outline. Then, the transformation began. Spikes began to grow from his joints. The one from his shoulders looked like a three-peaked ridge. Two were small, barely three or four centimetres long but the middle one jutted out like a steel dagger at ten centimetres.

    Simple, single spikes came from his elbows and knees but ones from his heels were only six centimetres long whilst the others were comparable to the central shoulder spike. Valerian's hair became black, feathery, metallic bristles and his nails gained a metallic glint. Thus far it looked like the steel monolith transformation. Even the raised knuckles of Valerian's hands implied this but what happened next proved that it wasn't.

    Lots of qi blasted out of Valerian's back. Before their speechless eyes, this qi shaped itself into a massive pair of translucent golden wings. They flapped once, creating a strong gust of wind that buffeted everything in the vicinity. Afterwards, his golden outline faded away.

    Looking at his family, Valerian finally gave a small smile. "This is one of the things I discovered. It is a sort of halfway form. When I am like this I gain a boost to all my attributes. Strength, speed, energy, defence everything seems to go up."

    "So this... this is not your final form?" his Grandfather asked.

    "Not even close", Valerian confirmed. "This is", he added right before continuing.

    The feeling in the air immediately changed. His golden outline came back only more intensely. Without any more qi being visibly released, his wings began to change. They started to become more opaque and substantial. A pattern began to appear on them and Valerian began to rise into the air. The two appendages swiftly turned into gold and the feathers, previously indistinct, became fleshed out. They were also now much larger than they used to be.

    Involuntarily, everyone took a few steps back. That was because the most startling thing about the change wasn't Valerian's physical appearance. Apart from the wings becoming larger and more real, nothing really changed physically. His presence, however, did.

    An immense pressure pressed down on everyone in the vicinity and a feeling of dread crept into their hearts. It was a feeling not unlike standing close to a dangerous animal. Something told you to keep your eyes focused on it and be prepared. If not, when it eventually attacked you wouldn't stand a chance. It was the paralysis a mouse felt when it found itself gazing into the eyes of a cobra. It was both and it was more.

    The cultivators in the room were able to better withstand it but the magistrate was soon puffing and panting. His wife quickly took his hand in hers and extended her own energy to help him combat the pressure.

    "When Avery explained to me what you are feeling I was not surprised. The Kun had dragons trembling in its presence. I am not that strong yet", he said wistfully.

    Pushing her husband towards his nephews, Valerian's grandmother came close to her grandson. Her amazement clear on her face, she placed a hand on his left wing. Running her fingers over the metallic thing, she traced the cloudy pattern that decorated the sharp feathers.

    "This is..." she tried to get out.

    "I know", Valerian finished a smug look slinking onto his face. "There's more."

    "What else?" Richard asked. His tongue managing to untie itself.

    The young arcanist simply pointed to his feet. They hung half a metre off the stone-tiled floor. His entire body was suspended in the air by his outstretched wings. "I can't touch the ground!" he proclaimed.

    "WHAT?" came the general response.

    To demonstrate, he sank downwards till his feet were maybe two centimetres from the floor. "This is as low as I can go full transformation. I tried everything. I'll always remain in the air somehow. I can touch it with my hands but the rest of my body especially my feet and wings will still be airborne", he explained.

    Not giving anyone a chance to speak he continued. "Then, there's the power surge".

    "There's a power surge?" his uncle Jonas asked.

    "In the half form, everything receives a boost but when I am like this I feel ..." his voice trailed off as he allowed his senses to savour the feeling of power coursing through his body.

    "I feel incredible!" he added extending and retracting his arms so fast that they were blurs to the magistrate's sight.

    "I know I'm above everything I see", he told them. "All my powers, my traits, my spells are magnified to greater heights. I tried [Wind Blade] back in the cavern and scoured a deep gash in the cave walls. Walls consisting of essence-imbued mineral ore. It's like the world is ripe for me. Ready for the taking and I can do it too. And the wind ...

    "Oh, the wind! It sings to me. Desiring to be beneath me. To hold up my wings. I hear it and know that if I were to call, it would answer. I just have to think it and it would bear me up. Then, I will soar into the sky" he said, a trace of longing in his voice.

    His family members exchanged worried glances as they listened to him speak. His voice, no, his tone. It didn't match the Valerian they knew.

    "That's enough Valerian!" his grandfather called in a worried tone. "Transform back!" he ordered.

    The boy's head whipped in his direction, glaring imperiously at him. A constricting feeling came over him. It was like the gaze was pinning him down. Any second now it would swoop down towards him and ... it went away. Valan began to breathe heavily in relief much to the alarm of his family.

    The golden outline came over Valerian again and his transformed features began to slip away. When it faded he dropped to the ground where he teetered on unsteady feet looking unwell. His face paled and his aura grew weak. Avery, already expecting this rushed to him and propped him up.

    "What's wrong?" His grandmother inquired frantically. "Is he alright?"

    "It's alright grandmother!" her grandson muttered weakly. "I just feel weak when I revert to this form. It will go after a while. I guess readjusting to this weak body and level of power requires some time."
    Again, his family exchanged tense looks. His grandparents, in particular, had some fear on their faces. There was definitely more to it than that.

    "Avery, take Valerian to his room to recuperate. He is undoubtedly drained from his transformation", his grandfather told the minder.

    He missed the angry look that Valerian shot him. He knew they were going to discuss the issue when he left. He couldn't believe the old coot was actually sending him away at this juncture.
    'When would he stop treating me like a child?' he thought angrily. A strange resolve came upon him. This had to end. The last few days had made that clear.

    With Valerian out of the room, Valan turned to face his family inviting them to a discussion as was his fashion. The whole thing had spun his head. He was visibly disturbed especially after the last few minutes. Unconsciously, he scrambled for some semblance of control.

    "You saw what I did. What do you think?" he asked.

    "Valerian... hhe.. he ..." Jonas started but his voice petered out. He couldn't articulate what was going on in his mind. The other three sympathised. They were having problems coming to grips with it too.
    "Perhaps, I should take the lead" his aunt offered helpfully. "I am the most knowledgeable in this area."

    "That's true", Valan admitted after some thought. Clara did come from an established line of daemon breeders and as a beastmaster herself she would know more about it than they did. "What can you tell us?"

    "Let me start by saying that Valerian is definitely a descendant of the Golden-Winged Peng", she began. The others made to protest but she raised her hand to quell them, an action she had picked up from her husband.

    "I understand your objections but let me point out that being the descendant of the peng does not mean that his mother is a peng or that he is an immediate relative. It just means that he can trace his line to it and that his bloodline is pure and strong. There are other factors that lend credence to this as well", she explained.

    "Factors such as?" Valan asked.

    "Before, we knew he had a legacy only it never exposed itself fully. I believe it wasn't just unawakened but also weak. The traits he displayed were seriously watered down when compared with what he shows now. His ability to absorb essence and strengthen his body wasn't as strong as it was now. I'm sure Richard and Jonas noticed it too."

    The two nodded prompting Valan to ask, "Noticed what?"

    Richard spoke up, "Valerian's absorption rate. At first, none of us could actually tell when he was doing it. We could only trace it from its cumulative effects but now even in his base form you can tell if you bother to look."
    Understanding what they meant Valan could only inquire, "How serious is it?"

    "You know how we always say that Valerian's body is self-cultivating?" Clara questioned her husband. He nodded and she continued. "If I didn't know what I do I'd think he was doing it intentionally. As in that, he was somehow cultivating whiles talking to us. His absorption rate is around the same level as that of most first tiers in the midst of cultivating.

    "Beyond that, I really can't say. It's like his body is a sink. All essence that draws too close to him is sucked in. It isn't particularly significant but anyone who is sensitive to energy and energy flows will surely notice if they come close to him."

    "I ... see", Valan said.

    "It's not just that. Did you get a feel for his strength and speed?" his wife asked.

    "That I did", he pronounced. "When he moved his arms they were pretty much a blur to me".

    Richard spoke up again. "I'd say that in that form he is at least six times faster than he was before he left. His strength is much greater too. At least twice so but I need a better demonstration to be sure."

    Richard couldn't help it. He was excited. All these years, he had been holding on. Constantly dragging his nephew into training sessions when everyone else was beginning to see it as a forsaken path. With Valerian's new method and physique, the things they could do ...

    His aunt was still speaking however so he tried to listen.

    "... the most telling signs were his wings and his aura. It was so strong and suffocating and yet had this majestic air. Only high-class daemons have that sort of aura. Valerian even mentioned that dragons trembled in the face of his ancestor's aura. To add to this, the memories he experienced are consistent with the hereditary memories of high-class daemons, further buttressing this.

    "On top of this, the form he displayed had aspects of the steel monolith transformation. You know your blood legacy better than I do. For this legacy to assimilate it and not the other way around lets you know how far above yours it is. Moreover, the only things it took were cosmetic. As for the wings, they are solid gold. They aren't plated or coloured but made from actual gold with a cloudy pattern splayed over the feathers. And the gold ... I think it is imperial."

    The last bit caught everyone's attention.

    "Are you certain? Can you ...?"

    "Of course I'm certain. This isn't something that one can joke with. Gold is a relatively soft metal but when I held his feathers between my fingers and pinched nothing happened. I couldn't even mark it no matter how hard I tried. The only gold I know of that is that mystical and tough is imperial gold. Or do you know of any others", Clara barked at him.

    Contrite the magistrate tried to explain, "Sorry! I did not mean to doubt you it's just that ..."

    Her face softened. "I understand dear. It's the same for me".

    "I am worried", he supplemented. "We had hoped that his mother's legacy would reveal itself but this throws all our plans out. If the Golden Winged Peng, if that really was who he encountered, did not somehow ingrain that method into him we would be even worse off than we were before. How do we help him now? What techniques or training can we give someone who is descended from a primordial?

    "And you saw how it affected him. The way his personality changed in addition to his body, not to mention the side effects he displayed upon reverting. That kind of power and no idea how to use or develop it, its consequences and we can't help him. Also, if anyone were to find out about this legacy and that his maternal clan carry the blood of a divinity. Who knows what they would do?"

    Then, realisation dawned in his eyes. He spun, gazing at his family with eyes that burned with emotion.

    "Could this be the reason for his mother's secrecy? Her background is so shrouded in mystery, she may as well have risen full-formed from the earth. Perhaps, this was what she was hiding, as well as the reasons for her disappearance. If Valiant did not know this when he went searching for her and ran into some sort of trouble on that level ...?"

    Clara immediately reached out her hand and took his in it. Rubbing it, she drew him out of his spiralling thoughts.

    "Now is not the time for that. Focus! We need to make Valerian the priority right now. This is not something we can put away. This legacy is bigger than us. We must decide what to do and how we'll handle this", she told him.
    Taking time to consider, the magistrate sighed.

    "First, we have to impress upon him that he must not enter that form under any circumstances. It is far too eye-catching and we don't know who might notice. Until we are sure about the effects and how to handle them he has to remain in his human form.

    "Secondly ..." here he hesitated. He couldn't believe he was about to say this.

    "Secondly, what Valan?" His wife prodded.

    "We have to go see my father!"


    Author's Note:
    Welcome to Book Two of HoGW. One great failing of ebooks and online novels is that you cannot appreciate the new book smell. Ah well, I hope you continue to enjoy the series. This book will be a lot more action-packed than the one before so stay tuned.

    Special thanks to Fellgar and Bloodwolf752. You two are the only ones I know liking and following the story! I appreciate it.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 2: The Steel Truth
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Two: The Steel Truth


    Henry Steelborn was a guard. The kind that stood in front of gates and walls to act as extra security. One might think that it was a lowly occupation for someone bearing the Steelborn name but even Steelborns need guards and his responsibility was many times greater than the average one. He watched over the inner area of the clan compound. The place where the greatest of the Steelborns resided as well as where their prime offices were.
    The pay was good and the acknowledgement and responsibility that came with being one of the clan's primary warriors were stupendous. Far more than a guard should probably have. Then again he was one of the clan's protectors. Despite this, even he knew that any enemy skilled enough to get past the wards in place would also be one that he would be near helpless against.

    His position was mostly ceremonial. He'd stand in Steelborn plate at strategic locations with his weapon out and look vaguely menacing. Plus, he sometimes got to accompany the elders to some events and meetings. It was interesting. Then again so was gate duty. You wouldn't believe the kind of people that passed through his station each day? Today was very dull though.

    As if to make him eat his words a small horse-drawn carriage made its way over. It was one of the clan's and looked like an elder's but he didn't recognise it or the horses. Stopping it for the cursory check, he was nearly shocked out of his boots when he saw the occupants.

    Sitting in it was Magistrate Valan, Richard, Array Master Jonas and the magistrate's grandson. That new kid who had been all the buzz lately.

    'Huh!' he exclaimed mentally. Henry was an old guard and knew more about the clan's internal political and historical setting than many. Other guards might not but he knew full well that… 'The magistrate never steps foot in the inner compound. Never has. Not since … Wonder what he's doing here' he asked himself.

    His mind nearly kaput when the man gave him small smile and gave him the answer. "Hello Henry. Let us in and inform my father that we are here to see him."


    Elder Foreson scurried about the Steel heart, the administrative hub of the entire Steelborn machine. Being the elder in charge of liaising with the magistrate and his family over the last five years, he had been the one contacted when the man in question came in and made his outrageous request to see the Patriarch.

    Outrageous because the Patriarch was currently in the middle of closed-door cultivation and was not be disturbed unless in dire circumstances. However, he also knew that if he came out to discover that his son, that Valan, in particular, had been turned away after coming here voluntarily to see him … well, a series of unfortunate events would occur.

    Unfortunately, he did not have the authority to interrupt the patriarch's cultivation. He doubted he even could. He needed the help of a Great Elder. Unfortunately, in this pressing circumstance, there were none to found in the inner compound.



    "What's he like, the patriarch?" Valerian asked his uncles softly. He had been told who they were coming here to see and to be honest he felt a little unprepared.

    Stories of his great-grandfather were so incredible that it was hard to separate the facts from fiction. The man had so much renown that there were no less than five monuments in his honour in the duchy alone. The stories were a bit much though.

    Many claimed he was as tall as the city walls and so strong that in the worst-case scenario he would carry DaleGuard on his back and run away with it. That he had gale-force breath and wielded a hammer that shattered the sky when swung. The one thing that he knew as fact though was that one of the things keeping the enemies of Bathar away from its eastern lands was the fact that they'd rather not run into him. Hence his titles Champion of the Dales, Stalwart Monolith and the Dale Guard.

    Valerian knew little of the man besides what he had read and heard, but what had come across to him was the sheer awe and reverence people had when speaking of him. He was made to seem larger than life. Obviously, he was highly respected and from what he knew he had earned it. Knowing that he would soon be meeting such a person filled him with atypical nervousness.

    "The Patriarch is …" Richard began. The man of few words found that he had even fewer today. "Well … he's hard to describe. He is the Patriarch. You'll just have to see for yourself."

    That didn't help at all.

    However, Valerian did notice his grandfather glance over. He had overheard their conversation. That was another thing. He knew that his grandfather's relationship with the clan was frayed and he knew why but he had no true knowledge of the matter between him and his father. Clearly, there was something there but as was customary in his house: no one talked about it.

    They just sat in one of the lounges, waiting at the edge of their seats. Valerian wished that whichever messenger would bring news on their requested audience would come quickly. The atmosphere was unbearably tense. Then, Jonas had an idea.

    "Uncle Valan, since we are here would it not be better to take Valerian to visit one of the memorials and have his induction done right away?"

    Valerian's head whipped in his direction. 'What memorial? Induction, what induction?'

    His grandfather's voice came from the side. "I'm not sure we have time for that but we can visit the memorial. It's past time he knew after all."

    Now, Valerian was well and truly curious. What is it that he should have known?

    He was taken to a particular section of the Steel Heart. The Steel heart is not a single building like its name would suggest but rather a complex. The place Valerian was taken was one he had never been before. They passed no less than three sets of guards before stopping at a relatively nondescript alcove.

    It was similar to the lounge they were in. There were comfortable seats few potted plants, murals on the walls and an ancient elder dozing in a corner. Why had he been brought here? He posed this question to his grandfather.

    "Come Valerian", the man said leading him to stand in front of the largest mural.

    "This place is special but not in the way you think. There is a tradition among us Steelborns. We call it the Induction. When a cultivator consolidates the first tier or gains a certain degree of power we take them aside and reveal to them the true origins of the clan and then induct them as fully recognised members."

    "That is why we brought you here to the Steelborn only section of the complex and to this memorial. There's no way you can call yourself a true Steelborn if you do not know the hidden history. Once you do you can register your name in the clan's ledger as a main member and be accorded the full title and responsibilities", he said.

    Valerian opened his ears making sure not to let any word escape him. This was news to him. Not the fact that the clan had a secret history. All clans did and in fact, he would be disappointed if they didn't. Valerian wanted to hear it. There was one problem though …

    "What does this place have to do with the induction", that's what Valerian really wanted to know.

    "Ah! It's just a visual aid and one of many memorials that the clan maintains to act as a reminder of our history", his grandfather explained. "Look at them, Valerian".

    He did so taking note of the giant art of a Steel Monolith, what looked like a battle, a forest. The whole place was covered with them.

    "This a place created so that we never forget. Be it the good times or the bad. All have shaped our clan into what it is today. It is very difficult to tell the hidden history without them. Each mural is a depiction of a scene from our history a visual reminder to buttress the oral record", his grandfather added.

    "And this one?" Valerian asked.

    He was, of course, referring to the one they were standing in front of. it was the largest and most detailed of all the murals. It was a mountain scene, a massive range with a giant, central peak and two smaller peaks at its side. There was a river that flowed down the mountain into the lush forest that surrounded its foot. The setting was paradisiac and the art marvellous.

    The artist had clearly poured a lot of time and feeling into the piece. The mountain invoked a sense of majesty and the forest one of plenty. It was the focus of the room making Valerian wonder what significance it held in the tale his grandfather was sure to tell.

    "That mountain can be said to be our earliest ancestor", his grandfather proclaimed with a smile.

    Valerian just stared at his grandfather dumbly, waiting for the man to explain. A mountain as the ancestor of the Steelborns. How? True to his nature, the man began to speak, slowly weaving a tale that brought to light the hidden history of the Steelborn clan.


    Steel is not a pure metal. It is nothing more than an alloy of iron and other materials to produce a stronger more resistant metal. For ages, men and beasts alike had experimented with it creating many forms based on the materials and methods used to create the alloy. However, there are also natural forms of steel created. Some by happenstance and others a result of basic evolution. The creatures called Steel Monoliths are an example of both.

    The mountain range in the mural was known as Mount Menhir. It dominated a great beastland in CrystalSpur Empire meaning that there were few humans in its environs and that it was ruled by powerful daemons.
    It had everything a Horde Lorde or even a human cultivator would need and it had them in excess. The entire range gathered world essence, naturally creating an atmosphere that was at its thinnest three times as thick as the essence elsewhere. This was what facilitated the rise of so many daemons but it also did more.

    The immense levels of world essence led to the formation of all kinds of essence imbued treasures such as imbued minerals and materials, mystic herbs and vast quantities of essence stones of every variety. Mount Menhir was a treasure. One that kept producing more treasures as time went by. The same essence that produced its treasures, replenished them meaning that used wisely they'd never run out.

    The empire's human cultivators tried to seize its lands many times but, of course, the Horde Lordes would never let that happen. They adamantly refused to relinquish their paradise. The two sides remained in a deadlock until an event happened that changed everything.

    Essence is life. High concentrations of essence elevate beasts to daemons, imbue materials with special properties and turn ordinary plants into mystic ones. But sometimes if heaven and earth are willing, it can do something more. Something miraculous.

    It would birth new, special, blessed life.

    It was incredibly rare but it happened often enough over the ages that everyone accepted it as fact. Such beings are touched by the divine and in many cultures are even referred to as divine beasts.

    Steel Monoliths are such beasts and a few kilometres beneath the central and tallest peak of Mount Menhir one was being born. He was born like all other Steel Monoliths. A base of iron, a lot of it, some ash borne from earth's fire, other minerals and of course the benevolence of the Earth.

    But he was very different as well. A Steel Monolith's uniqueness comes from its environment and the materials that go into its being. He was born of Mount Menhir a place known for its essence imbued minerals and its great stock of essence stones. A significant portion of which went into his creation.

    It meant that when he took his first breath and tunnelled his way out of the mountain he was a forty-metre tall daemon whose limbs were worth more than some kingdoms. Monoliths are called titan childe by some people and for good reason. They were basically metal giants with more strength, power and durability than the mountains they spawned from and this one was a prime specimen.

    He took on the name Menhirion after the Mountain that spawned him and set about turning it into his territory. It only took a century before he subjugated all the other daemons in the central peak and three before he ruled the entire range and the lands around it.

    He was the first 'living' ancestor of the modern Steelborns and the true start of their line. His son, an only child, was begotten by a powerful human cultivator and from him, a family and then a clan began to shape up.
    Eventually, Menhirion made an incredible choice. He gave up his cultivation and progress to become the clan's first guardian spirit. With his new status as a minor divinity and the prowess of his descendants, who fortunately inherited many of his gifts, he began to dominate all the lands they could stretch their hands over. This attracted a lot of attention from the CrystalSpur Empire.

    The clan then known as the Menhirionn grew powerful and as the rulers of that beastland, they had legions under their command. Despite this, they knew they could not fight against the entire might of the empire and even before tensions could arise they submitted, becoming an Earldom of the Empire.

    For generations, they were one of the exceptional clans in the empire and their power, wealth and influence had little bounds. But then calamity, in the form of a betrayal, struck and everything was taken from them.
    There was a decennial celebration that the clan held as part of their traditions. It is one that Steelborns celebrate even today. Around that time, the ancestral peak would be filled with joy and cheer and every single Menhirionn capable of making the journey would come home to celebrate life, history and family.

    However, it was also an open festival. A mistake they longer make, but back then all people were invited and that was their undoing. All the Menhirionn. All the members of the most powerful clan within ten thousand leagues gathered at one place. They should have known how tempting a target they were. Sadly, they didn't or perhaps they were too caught in their pride and arrogance to care.

    Four of the five subordinate clans turned against them. It was an unfair fight. Even together, the children of the mountain were more than a match for them but that was on a good day. On that day, they had been in the midst of celebration; unprepared, drunk and worst of all poisoned.

    It was a specially crafted poison that targeted their very blood and was spread slowly around their ancestral home. Placed in their tribute and gifts. Added to the food and wine. They never saw it coming.

    That said, it wasn't long before they noticed the strange rust coloured discolouration on their bodies and it wasn't long before the more cautious among them found the doses in the food but the damage was already done and their betrayal discovered, the subordinate clans began their massacre.

    At the time, the clan was more a little than a thousand strong. Today, generations after the massacre, the total number of Steelborns is ninety-six. That was because nearly every man, woman and child carrying their bloodline was slaughtered. The Menhirionn did everything to resist but the subordinate clans had joined hands with cultivators of significant power.

    Even their great guardian spirit, their ancestor, was unable to do anything. He fought and raged and destroyed but eventually, the children of the mountain fell. They couldn't surrender. They tried but they were killed anyway. So they died but they tried to die gloriously by taking as many of their enemies down with them as possible. It was the most they could do to buy the others time.

    The Menhirionn had been caught unawares and taken severe losses but they weren't stupid. There was no clan worth its salt that did not have countermeasures for the most dire circumstances. Theirs was simple. Small groups protecting some of the brightest and most important people in the family would be sent out under heavy protection. Each group would take a different route until they arrived at one of the safe havens set up where they would regroup and then flee the empire.

    The ancestors of the Steelborns were in one such group. They were guards protecting Aeron, the son of an elder. Fortunately or unfortunately, they were slow to arrive at the designated location. They saw much fighting in their attempts to escape and their numbers had already been thinned. Afraid of being left behind they rushed to the safe haven.

    A safe haven that had not been safe for the people that came before them. Every other group lay slaughtered and many bodies showed signs of soul scours. Confused and in flight they did the only thing they could. They couldn't go to any of the clan's holdings as their pursuers had no doubt gleaned them from souls of their relatives and from the way things looked, no one would survive.

    So they made a risky gamble. They fled into the Wildlands knowing that no force would be foolish enough to pursue them there and they were crazy for doing so. It paid off.

    Their time in the Wildlands was fraught with peril and escapades but as the years went by they began to thrive. They lived as a nomadic group, flitting here and there. Eventually, they were able to press a young StormHawk into service as their guardian spirit and then become a respectable clan of mercenaries and blacksmiths.

    With time, their journeys brought them to DaleGuard where Valerian's great-grandfather was spotted in a recruitment drive for the Bathan army. The rest, as they say, is history.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 3: The Steel Truth II
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Three: The Steel Truth II


    It was a riveting story, a piece of Steelborn oral tradition that had been passed down for generations and the magistrate was an exceptional storyteller. He was able to weave a tale so entrancing whilst pointing at the murals, that he seemed to bring them to life. Using them, he actually conveyed the story as if he had experienced it himself. Like it had happened just yesterday and not centuries ago.

    It was not necessarily the traditional recital of what Valerian would later come to know as "The Epic of the Menhirionn", but one even more detailed. He presented the hopeful and curious, newly born Menhirion as he learnt about his world. The sense of triumph the young steel monolith had after his first kill. Of the even greater triumphs that came later. The first territory, horde and then family.

    He painted the image of a burgeoning great and glorious people gaining accolade after accolade and accomplishment after accomplishment. Of illustrious ancestors and their feats. Of how the entire Menhir range seemed to tremble when its children yelled their exultation to the heavens at having become its uncontested overlords.

    He went as far as to evoke in his audience a sense of merriment that came with the decennial celebration. The joy of family together, the peace and security that it provides. In the background, he portrayed the villainy of the subordinate clans and their evil actions whilst building a great trepidation leading up to the discovery of their treachery.

    Then, he began the tale of the conflict that followed trying to arouse the anger and rage of his spellbound captives even as he created a wretched picture of the suffering and dying Menhirionn. Even seeming to weep a few tears himself as he recounted their plight. By this time the number of people in the memorial had tripled but the place remained eerily silent with the exception of the formerly sleeping ancient elder who was now playing a harp as accompaniment.

    The occasional gasp could be heard like when the magistrate got to the part where he depicted the aftermath of the massacre. The many that lay dead and the horror that remained despite the valiance of the Menhirionn and the sacrifice of their warriors. The sight that Aeron encountered when he got to the supposedly safe haven.

    He emphatically condemned the betrayers. The oath breakers who not only ignobly used poison but went as far as to desecrate the corpses of those more noble than they. Who violated their ancestors' souls in an attempt to avert their eventual retribution.

    He spoke of the bravery of Aeron, he who became the leader of the Steelborn. How he would rather let the daemons of the Wildlands devour him than let the enemy reach their ugly fingers into his soul and how he inspired the clan to flee into the Wildlands. The thing that saved them and allowed the Menhirionn line to survive.

    By this time, the magistrate's account was three times longer than the usual, so he began bringing it to a close. He spoke first of some of the terrors of the Wildlands like the Profound Steel Drake that followed the party for weeks trying to consume them for their steel essence and bloodline. The terrible weather and the many other dangers that Aeron's party overcame.

    He extolled the names of all who lost their lives before the group finally adapted to the Wildlands. When he got to the part where Aeron, before his death, finally convinced the StormHawk to become their guardian spirit, the assembled listeners cheered.

    The story ended with an army recruiter spotting the patriarch. A dangling hook that implied the great things to come.


    The audience began to depart, noisily discussing the recital but Valerian continued to sit there, slowly taking this in. The story cleared up a lot about his clan. Like why the steel monolith transformation was called their true form. It also, however, made him realise that he knew little about the family and the world was he was in.

    Still, there were things that bothered him.

    "Why …?" he mumbled.

    "Excuse me?" his grandfather asked.

    "Why did they attack us? What reason did the other clans have to betray us?" he asked confused. That was one of the sore points for him. Presumably, the other clans were so trusted they were invited to family traditions and lived in their range. So why did they turn against them?

    "Well, to start with the subordinate clans were formerly powerful clans of the Menhir range until they were conquered by the Menhirionn and made into subordinates. Whilst the millennia that passed may have lessened the original feelings of resentment, no one really likes being under another's thumb.

    "Servants act against each other and their masters all the time. They probably saw a way out of their indenture and a quick route to more power. Besides that, there was always greed. They wanted what the Menhirionn had", his grandfather tried to explain.

    "What did the Menhirionn have that the other clans would massacre them for it?" Valerian inquired.

    "The Steel heart", a strong voice came from the side.

    Valerian turned his side to see a middle-aged man in dark blue Steelborn armour. His hair was long and dark but his beard thought nearly as long possessed a grey streak down the middle. He sat there leisurely idly stroking his beard. However, Valerian hadn't noticed his appearance before that moment and from the sharp intake of breath coming from the others they hadn't either.

    Perplexed Valerian asked, "What did they want with our offices?"

    The man laughed. It was a strong booming laugh, one a lot like Richard's but less strained and revealed more laughter lines around his eyes.

    "Not this steel heart. The original one. This one was named such because some royal official managed to overhear a couple of dumb elders discussing the steel heart. The Steel Heart of the Menhirionn was the sacred place where the first ancestor spawned.

    "It was our first abode and as we grew became both temple and vault. Distinguished individuals were buried in it, as well as a rather significant portion of our treasures. Not ordinary treasures, just the ones that qualified to be placed in the most sacred territory we controlled. In the same room as our guardian spirit and our exalted dead.

    "Everyone in CrystalSpur knew of the Steel Heart and all of them wondered about its contents like you are doing now. It was the subject of numerous fables and fantasies. Many dreamed of seeing it, even more of acquiring a portion of its wealth but they knew they couldn't.

    "No one would dream of directly going against us and whatever we put to guard it. It was common knowledge that only the main branch of the Menhirionn could even access it and only the clan head could open and close it", the man spoke.

    Valerian was painfully aware of his grandfather's silence and the fact that besides their little group, there was not a single person left in the memorial. Even the ancient, harp-playing elder had disappeared. He put it aside for the moment. It was not his current concern. Instead, he asked.

    "Then, why did they want it? Why would they bother to go through with it?"

    The man quirked an eyebrow in his direction. "All they had to do my boy is get past our forces to get to the Steel Heart. After that, they'd only have to deal with the protection of the vault itself. That is why they were so intent on killing us off."

    "You mean like killing a cultivator to remove the binding on his interspatial ring!" Valerian exclaimed in realisation. "They really wanted to wipe us out."

    "Not exactly. Family bindings are not as specific as personal ones. They work off the signatory's blood and essence signature but relate it to others," the armoured gentleman explained. "That's why people who carry similar blood and essence can access them. All they really needed to do was kill everyone related within six generations of the primary connection, in this case, the clan head, to cut off the main line.

    "If they could do this before someone else became the primary connection then the bindings would be removed since there wouldn't be anyone with a close enough blood connection. As it happened, Aeron was the nephew of the clan head and his bloodline was only two generations separate from the main bloodline so they failed.

    "Aeron, at least, survived and his line continued, his blood passing on through us. That means the bindings were never undone and that the Steel heart is still sealed provided they did not find some other way in", he ended.
    "So they failed their main objective? Good! Serves them right!" Valerian grumbled.

    "Yes, they failed. We survived, but at a cost." the other said wistfully.

    "A cost we'll eventually repay manyfold", Valerian stated darkly.

    The story had had a profound effect on Valerian. Knowing his ancestors had been betrayed, slaughtered and brought so low filled his heart with dark intent. Anger broiled within and thoughts of retribution had already festered in his mind. He understood that the clans, being powerful enough to destroy the Menhirionn, were out of their league but that wouldn't be true forever and when the chance came …

    "You young folk somehow always misunderstand the purpose of the induction. We don't do it to induct warriors for the destruction of the four clans nor is it a call to arms. It is one created to preserve our history. To show the heights we once reached to motivate us to make that climb again not so we can lament our fall.

    "It is a lesson that we should learn from. A warning of the folly of blind trust, arrogance and lax guards. A reminder of the virtues of self-reliance, courage and ingenuity. As well as an explanation of our current way of life. To tell you why the decennial celebration is a solemn one and not a raucous one. Why we celebrate it alone, close our doors and seal off the clan compound when it is in progress. The importance of the StormHawk and how the only people we can truly rely on are ourselves. Our family. It is to teach you of caution, even of those you call friends, as well as imprint on the newly initiated the importance of power and teamwork.

    "There is a reason why our clan compound is separate from that of the other noble clans. Why we produce our own food and mounts. Why we police ourselves. Why we stand alone, without allied or subordinate clans. Why we must remain strong. All of this so that we do not fall the same way our ancestors did.

    "Finally, it is to remind us that the Menhirionn are gone. They are our past and we are to venerate them but not be them. We are Steelborn, not Menhirionn. We face different danger and circumstances and have different goals. Our goal is the rise of the clan. Nothing else", the man said. He chuckled at the beginning but towards the end, he grew more and more serious.

    "So, you are telling me that those who did this to us should go scot-free?" Valerian said.

    "That is not what I'm saying", the man defended.

    "You're telling me that if you had the chance today and had them within your power you would let them go unharmed?" he prodded.

    "I'm not …" the man tried to say but Valerian interrupted him.

    "You're telling me that when you think of our suffering at their hands, of the destruction of our home, that we've been effectively forced into exile or of their betrayal, nothing stirs in your heart?" he added.
    "I'm just saying …"

    "You're saying that we should forget. That it means nothing!" Valerian stated. The man looked at him exasperated at not getting a word in.

    "I understand the lessons you mentioned, believe me, I do. I also comprehend the fact they are beyond us. What I do not understand is why you'd remind us of our loss and then say that we should forget it. If it was just a matter of us being too weak to entertain such thoughts or a warning against violence then I would but you are saying something different.

    "From what I glean from your words. You seem to be severing the connection between us and the Menhirionn. Like they are a different people. Despite the fact that all we have changed is our surname. To you, somehow they are not family but distant figures. Their sacrifice doesn't matter, their loss isn't one", he continued. "You want to put it behind you. Even though you use their legacies, their teachings and carry their blood. All you've communicated to me is a desire for glory and greatness as well as a distrust of others. That what matters is contributing to the here and now. It makes me wonder.

    "What is family to you?"

    The man looked at him, mouth slightly agape. He couldn't think of a response at the moment. This stunned state was a combination of shock that the boy would speak that way to him and failure to come up with an objection. Just then, for the first time since the man's appearance, the magistrate's voice rang out.

    "Never mind him, Valerian. What you see is a sample of the callous, consequentialist thinking that plagues the older and upper echelons of the clan. The same kind that only cares what a person has to contribute and how that plays into the Steelborn agenda. The kind that is prepared to cast you aside if you have nothing good to provide. It's good you've caught on early", he said.

    Valerian looked over to see his uncles nodding in agreement. The man's face twitched for a split second before recomposing itself into his formerly cultured visage. He then got up to face the magistrate.
    "I have no idea how this meeting turned out this way. Can we ever speak without this topic somehow cropping up Valan?" the armoured man questioned.

    "I did not bring it up this time, father, you did!" the man pointed out in response.

    His words made Valerian recoil in shock. This man was Roland Steelborn, his great-grandfather, the patriarch and the most powerful man in the viscounty. That's who he had been talking to. He quickly re-evaluated the man. Besides its colour, his armour didn't look that special. He had the general Steelborn physique and to be honest very little about him actually stood out.

    Standing in front of his grandfather like he did it was easy to see that they were related. Only, he looked like the magistrate's son instead of the other way around. He looked younger and more robust than his son. An impressive feat given that he was more than half a century older.

    "As always, I'm surprised at you. You know full well how necessary our policies are to the continued well-being of the entire clan. How important it is to defend our position and our people from the many forces that work against us", the patriarch was busy saying.

    "I've never questioned their effects, father. I just point out that there are better ways", the magistrate countered. "Ways that don't …"

    He was cut off by a raised hand. Everyone in the room recognised the gesture.

    'Oh! So that's where that comes from', Valerian noted mentally.

    "I presume that arguing with me is not the reason that you've come here", the patriarch inquired. His son nodded silently. Seeing that, he put the raised hand down. "Good! Then let's get to that instead of this argument that never gets anywhere".


    Meanwhile far away in a secret chamber, a meeting was starting.

    Dorian Veldt looked on as the various lords filled their seats. Many had started arguing already, complaining of some the recent Steelborn actions. It was always like this. Their secret society had been created to combat the injustice of having a filthy hitherto unknown barbarian clan come straight out of the Wildlands to rule them.

    He remembered the old days when they had been progressive and proactive. There had been vigour then. Then two clans got annihilated and their numbers dropped. Now, they just met up to complain and plan their reactions. That drive from before was gone and he was sure that if not for the oaths binding them, some would have defected years ago.

    This had to change. It would change. He had a plan. However, there were many things he had to get ready first. Once they were done with their current agenda, he'd get to work and then the Veldt would rise to their rightful position as lords of the Dales.

    As for the Steelborns, they would rue the day they usurped their position.


    A/N: We finally meet the Steelborn patriarch, Roland and learn just a bit about why his relationship with his son is estranged. I'm curious though. What do you guys think of the Steelborn story and the patriarch's stance on the events?
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 4: Motives and Drives
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Four: Motives and Drives


    The Veldt were one of the old noble clans of the dales. In fact, they still held a barony in Cragsveil. However, they had never been satisfied with that and thus, they conspired for the viscounty. It took years of planning but they finally succeeded in making the previous peer look unsuitable for his position.

    Luckily, the viscount at the time had been a poor one. When the war broke out and the twin towers were cut off by the enemy forces he quickly declared Cragsveil lost and fled towards the capital. Granted, the Veldt fled as well and the viscounty truly seemed lost but it was a golden opportunity and one that the Veldt quickly seized.

    They paraded the old Viscount's weakness and cowardice and shunted blame onto him for the loss of Cragsveil and the disarray of the army. After all, how was a defence to be mounted without a commander-in-chief? It was obviously the panicking of the viscount that lead to the first rout and caused the hysteria and exodus that followed. Clearly, he was not fit to rule.
    Who could have predicted what came next?

    Really, who could? Who had? Dorian wanted to know. He wished to curse that person for not warning them. All the hard work of his clan. A business of decades that had allowed them to set themselves up as the most viable candidates for the position of viscount. The resources and effort they had expended in the shadows to make the viscount lose his position …
    Only for it to be snatched by someone else!

    Roland Steelborn. That was the name of the burly peon who had seized the position that he had been groomed for. In the end, the only ones his clan could blame were themselves. They had pushed too hard and too soon. No. Actually, it was the war's fault. If it hadn't happened, he would have taken the peerage in less than a decade.

    As things stood, the King and his Royal Court ended up granting the position to the one person who saved the viscounty where the previous Viscount failed: Roland Steelborn. Even now, he couldn't help but grit his teeth whenever he thought back to that moment when news came back to them that DaleGuard had not fallen as expected and that a young captain was leading the Bathan forces.

    It never crossed his mind that even before the main battalions of the army could reach the battlefront the unknown captain would singlehandedly bring about the destruction of the enemy forces. That he would be hailed as a war hero and then granted the seat of Cragsveil.

    When it happened he was in shock. How? How had the peerage slipped from his fingers just as it got within reach? It was days before he recovered his speech but once he did he got to work. Using the pull of his clan he established this secret society. Drawing together many of the other clans, figures and forces who were against the upstarts in their midst.

    That done, he spread his insidious fingers, leading them from the shadows. Veldts never did anything themselves. Not when others could do so for them. In truth, besides the figures present at this meeting and a few others in his clan, there were no living beings who knew of his involvement and none of them could even speak of it. Just as it should be.

    Nonetheless, his goal, the goal of his society had yet to come to fruition. He had initially thought that the Steelborns being barbarians would fall easily, but very few of their machinations ever succeeded. They were powerful, closeted and paranoid. Unfortunately, they were also incredible warriors and great leaders.

    Dorian was forced to admit that even with the forces marshalled against them the Steelborns really had transformed the viscounty for the better. That didn't matter though. They'd fall still!


    Roland Steelborn strained himself to keep his composure in the face of the marvel in front of him. He stared at his great-grandson as he floated a few inches off the ground, taking his transformed features. Drawing closer, he completely disregarded the aura the boy emanated and grabbed onto one of his wings.

    They were beautiful. Dark gold feathers that looked a bit like elongated fish scales with an indistinct pattern.

    'Are those clouds or waves?' he asked himself.

    Then he grabbed a feather and squeezed. Immediately, his visage changed. He tried again just to make sure. Still the same. He let go and took a deep breath to calm himself. Giving a side glance at Valerian's face, he shook his head inwardly.

    'What a terrifying ability! Truly befitting a divine legacy', he admitted.

    His son spoke from behind him. "We were hoping that you'd have some method that we can use to hide it".

    "Hide it?" he asked. Valan nodded.

    "You can't."

    "Why?" Valan questioned.

    Roland took a few seconds to compose his answer. "This is a daemonic inheritance, a blood legacy. That puts it in the same class as our own …" he turned to give Valerian another look before adding. "… in some respects."
    "You can disguise it but I doubt the clan has anything that would work on something this powerful. The only other method we could use is to seal it and that would be terrible for Valerian. The legacy is in his blood. Sealing it would cut him off from part of himself and also seal away anything connected to it. He would be unable to use its abilities, his method and seeing how his qi and physique are connected to the legacy they would be sealed away as well", he finished.

    "I doubt any of you want that?" he questioned.

    "So there's nothing we can do?" Valan responded.

    "I didn't say that. I just said we can't affect his legacy", Roland stated. Following that, he once more turned to face Valerian.

    "Could you transform back but this time go into your halfway form?" he requested.

    Valerian, strangely subdued, nodded and switched. His wings grew smaller, becoming transparent whilst his predatory aura vanished. The patriarch nodded and clapped. Then, turning to face his audience he proclaimed.
    "As you can see, we don't have to. His legacy does so for us. There is no Peng here. Only a boy with wings made from essence. In this form, he has neither the presence nor the appearance of his true legacy. True, he is weaker but we can work with this.

    "In this form, he possesses enough monolith features for us to call it a mutation of the normal bloodline. Plus, his wings don't look too different from our other legacy the StormHawk wings. I'll have the clan slowly release information that our bloodlines have begun to merge. When he unveils that form in public, they'd think that instead."

    Valan considered it. He was no stranger to the application of propaganda. It just might work especially if the clan actually worked at it.


    Dorian looked at the assembled lords as they filed out of the chamber. Just as he had expected, they just rambled and complained till the meeting ended. If something wasn't done soon he'd lose his hold over them. He sighed. His plans would have to wait till he brought them back in line.

    "Father", his son called.

    "Yes Priam!" he answered.

    "Have the Steelborns really requested the presence of all the lords in this year's Zebre?" Priam asked.

    "Quite imperiously too. Hmph, can you believe that? Acting like kings", was his response.

    "Why?"

    Dorian sighed mentally. He loved his son. He was gifted at cultivation, handsome and strangely charismatic but he just didn't have that edge or mental acumen. His grandson though, that boy reminded him of himself.

    "It's a clumsy and obvious power play. They want everyone there at the Zebre because they wish to make use of their supposed might to reaffirm their position. They want all the lords there to watch and get defeated before the whole kingdom", Dorian explained.

    "Tch! Sadly, they'll probably succeed. That muscle head Roland would never commit to it if he wasn't sure that they'd win. The rewards and prizes this year will draw cultivators from all over the kingdom and all the lords in the viscounty are to contribute".

    "Can you imagine that?" he added with a touch of anger. "Forcing us to offer prizes so that his people can sweep them up".

    Priam's brow furrowed as he thought about it. "What if we don't go?" he offered. "I mean, if we're going to lose anyway would it not be better not to go at all?"

    "Don't be daft!" Dorian yelled. Have you seen the amount of attention that the Steelborns are drawing? Every cultivator and personality in the Kingdom is probably looking forward to it. If we were to withdraw or find an excuse it would be the same as letting the whole of Bathar know that we are afraid or even inferior to them. And that's not the worst part.

    "Already, faith in our side decreases every day. The current generations were born under Steelborn rule, so unconsciously they see nothing wrong with it. Our bonds with our allies are frail and those who would support us despair in the face of the Steelborns. If we do not make a good showing now when the Steelborns seek to consolidate their strength they just might give up on us.

    "If the disparity in strength is too great they'll label us a sure loss and move on. Then, there are the loose cultivators. They'll be invariably drawn to the winning side. This Zebre might just be the most important in our clan's history. We cannot afford to fall here not when our plans are taking shape. Not just us, the standing of every party in the region will probably be affected by it".

    Priam looked worried as he well should. He scrambled for a solution. "So we have to cheat".

    Dorian sighed in defeat his physical form visibly deflating. "In any other circumstance, we would. Indeed, it is the surest way. In this, however, we can't. Given the importance of this event, the fights would closely be monitored and I'm sure the Steelborns would enjoy parading and shaming any party found violating any rule."

    "Father, what do we do?" his son asked fearfully.

    "We have no choice, we have to pull out every last stop and trump we have that can ensure a win. It is our only chance. It would draw some attention but we can't afford the alternative. We have one month to prepare."


    So, Valerian! I'm given to understand that you are quite talented in the [Fighting arts of Harry and Clude] and that your spellwork is nothing to scoff at either", the patriarch said.
    Valerian shifted a bit under his gaze unsure as to how to take praise from such a legendary figure.

    "Now that your qi issues have been resolved and your physique so radically improved I'm hoping you'll pursue the martial path more intently. Your talent for combat is extraordinary. I hope you don't let it go to waste", the man added.

    "I won't sir!" he answered.

    "Good. Any plans concerning the path you'll take? Your array skills are top-notch as well. Steelborns have always been gifted at combat. Nonetheless, your talent as an array master is very welcome in the clan. We would be willing to help with that as well", his great-grandfather asked.

    "Well, right now Uncle Richard and I are thinking of putting me through the paces so that I can get a good handle on what I'm capable of. Afterwards, I'll work on tellurian skills for a bit. I've always wanted to learn them but I couldn't because of you … know?" Valerian responded.

    "Good, good. From what I can see, you won't have any problems with that. Your comprehensive ability is quite high and your battle awareness is well worthy of note. I have full confidence that you'll master any skills you choose without much effort", the patriarch stated.

    Valan took this opportunity to interject spitefully, "Note that he means that literally, Valerian. He does see. If I remember correctly he constantly blankets the entire city with his spiritual sense."

    The patriarch turned to give him an annoyed look but said nothing. He chose to ignore his son and focus more on developing a rapport with his great-grandchild.

    "Just remember Valerian, practice and actual battle are two different things. Practice makes perfect, but without suitable experience, you will be unable to draw out your full potential or learn how to properly apply what you learn", he warned.

    "That is a lesson that my tutors have made sure to teach me", Valerian said. He was intentionally trying to draw some attention to his two uncles who had been sitting quietly the entire time, fading into the background.
    "As a matter of fact, I plan to participate in this year's Zebre to gain more experience", he added.

    "You can't!"

    "You probably shouldn't!"

    Valerian looked around surprised. That was not the reaction he was expecting. Why had both his grandfather and great-grandfather protested so loudly? Even they were surprised that they spoke at the same time. Turning to face his grandfather, the first speaker, he asked.

    "Why not?"

    "Because …" the man sputtered. "You can't. We still aren't sure about your legacy and how to manage it. We can't let you just stride into a duel without knowing what would happen. Besides, you are not ready yet".

    "WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOT READY YET?" Valerian yelled. The room stared at him in shock. He coughed to hide his uncharacteristic outburst and calming himself, he said. "We had an agreement that once I consolidated
    the first stage you'll help me make a debut in the arena. I've done that and more, what else is there?"

    His grandfather looked flustered. Still, he was quick to answer. "That agreement was made under different circumstances and under different assumptions. Things have obviously changed."

    Valerian's voice turned cold and dark, "Are you trying to go against your word grandfather?" he asked.

    There was a barely masked threat in those words. One that put everyone in the room on high alert. Thankfully, the patriarch was quick to come in.

    "I'm sorry but I must agree with your grandfather, Valerian", the man began. "You are not ready. Not for this Zebre. If you try to enter, you'll be thrown together with other consolidated first tiers. Your skills and innate gifts are great Valerian but you are not ready to battle at that level no matter how ready you think you are."

    He turned to his uncles for help but they just looked away, unwilling to get involved. The decision had already been made. He made a few attempts at protest but it was clear that neither figure would budge so he stormed out of the building.


    Valerian was beyond incensed. He lay on his bed trying to calm down but his mind kept going back to the matter before. He couldn't even meditate. For the first time in his life, Valerian felt like punching his grandfather in the face. The man was determined to keep him weak and at home his whole life.

    Well, he refused to play by his rules any longer. He would not let the man continue to suppress him. In truth, he had made up his mind to confront the old man after the incident with the bandits. Unfortunately, events spiralled out of control and he never got the chance.

    He was weak and it was partly his grandfather's fault. He had been forced to confront it when the bandits attacked.

    He was a cultivator with a perfect arcane vessel and more arcane energy than he knew what to do with. How then was it that nearly all of the spells he knew were intended to defend, flee or craft? His first action in battle was to layer shields for Delrein's sake. The only proper attack spells he had were the ones his grandmother taught him and he was eternally grateful for that.

    Not to mention that he completely lacked combat experience. During the battle, the only thing he could do was stand passively and let his enemies whale on his shields. Sadly, he hadn't connected the dots until the soldiers came. After the battle, he'd begun to think up ways to overcome his lack of offensive skills when Avery received that call from the soldiers.

    Soldiers that just happened to be in the vicinity when he was attacked and yet far enough away that his constant tracking and scouting spells never flagged them. Soldiers who knew the signature of Avery's personal communication talisman. Soldiers whose first priority was to get him home after he was attacked. It was all proof of just how much his grandfather controlled his life.

    He never doubted Avery's loyalty. For him the answer was clear. Who was the only person who had both the pull and motive to get that team to trail him and Avery to cooperate with them? Who was it that designed his lesson plans?

    Valan Steelborn, his grandfather!

    Under all the anger, Valerian knew the man was just being overprotective. It still didn't stop him from hating how he was scripting his life. He was actually doing everything he could to keep Valerian from straying into anything he deemed dangerous or just didn't approve off.

    Well, Valerian wouldn't let him do so anymore.

    "Avery!" he called.

    "Yes young master!" the man answered from his post.

    "I've been told that entering into the Zebre is folly and that I am not ready. That I am too weak to do so. What do you think?" he questioned.

    'Oh boy!' the man exclaimed mentally. He hated being put on the spot like this. Nonetheless, he gave his opinion.

    "I'm afraid they're right Master Valerian. I don't think you can compete", he answered.

    "Oh!" Valerian intoned. He had not expected that. "Explain".

    At his command, Avery did so. "I'm sure you are aware that if you enter you'll be fighting other consolidated first tiers?"

    Knowing it was a question, Valerian nodded.

    "If you were not one it wouldn't be so bad but since you are then I don't think you have much of a chance. Consolidated first tiers are so powerful that they aren't allowed to fight those beneath them despite being in the same tier. Also, the Zebre is uncommonly fierce", Avery explained.

    He'd be placed in the Young Cultivators' Division with all those twenty-five years old and below. That wasn't the problem. The tournament he'll be placed in is one of the most watched and anticipated in DaleGuard. It is known informally as the Young Lords' Tourney and for a very good reason.

    When the Young Cultivators' Division was first started it was a way to draw out the most talented in the younger generation and everyone regardless of creed or station was allowed to enter and technically they still can but no one would. Over time it became a way to tell not just the promising ones in the younger generations but also which families had the most promising youngsters. Once this view spread, the families began taking it more seriously and invested heavily in it. Soon, ordinary cultivators could not keep up and were forced to quit entering.

    The tournament became the stage for the most talented youngsters of the noble clans and great sects in the region. A staging ground whose results directly affected the standing of the various powers in the viscount.

    In the end, it was unofficially separated from the other events and the age restriction was lowered from fifty to twenty-five years. Only the very best would dare participate. The clans, families and sects who took part invested so heavily in it that they at times trained explicitly trained disciples for this event and even made them hold back their cultivation so that they would remain at the very peak of the first tier when the Zebre came.
    Valerian continued to lie on his bed listening to Avery's explanation.

    "Young master, it is not that I think you incapable but the Young Lords' Tourney is a very competitive stage. I reckon that if I were to be matched against any of the competitors the only way I'd win would be due to luck and my decades of experience", the man was saying.

    That caught his attention. Avery was an elite and experienced guard. Valerian wasn't sure he would prove a match for him and yet he had no confidence in winning a fight in the tourney.

    "You'll not be fighting against ordinary cultivators Master Valerian. You'll be fighting against the best in Cragsveil. All of them would possess titles, methods, skills, spells, abilities, weapons and teachers that would be the best their backers can give them. They might even be superior to yours".

    "I see", Valerian said.

    However, Avery didn't think he did. "As you are now, you wouldn't even last a round with the weakest among them. If you really want to compete, my suggestion will be to wait and train. Maybe in a year or two, you can try and enter".

    Valerian was quiet for a few seconds, seemingly pondering the matter. "Alright Avery, you've convinced me. The Young Lords' Tourney is the best place for me to test my skills. A tournament for the best and brightest? I'll cut a place there for myself. If I'm not good enough right now I'll just have to become so", he proclaimed.

    Avery stood there slack-jawed. Had his master not heard a single word he said?

    "Begin getting things ready, Avery. I need practice dummies, skill books, essence stones, new weights, anything and everything that would aid in training. We only have a month to get ready. I plan to spend all that time training, pushing myself until … wait where are you going? I'm not done?" he exclaimed.

    Avery spun around. He had already made it to the door. He only turned to deliver a parting shot.

    "I'm off to tell Richard that you are ready. He has been anticipating this moment for years."
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 5: The Zebre
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Five: The Zebre


    Cragsveil was charged with energy. The entire viscounty was filled with a certain joy and spirit. The Zebre had come. The Zebre is a festival held once a year over a two-week period in pretty much every town or city of the plains folk. In the eye of most, it is one of the most important festivals, second only to the harvest festival.

    As such, preparations often began weeks in advance and bit by bit the cities come alive with decorations, food, music and dance. Everywhere, household shrines are cleaned and offerings are made to ancestors, guardian spirits and deities requesting their favour in the days to come. Thousands flock to the cities and towns to join in the celebrations and hundreds gather hoping to take part in the rites.

    Nevertheless, Zebre is not just a festival of feasting and dancing. True, it is a celebration but the reason that it is regarded with such import is because it is the festival of champions, the festival of warriors. The Zebre was the season of battles and tournaments.

    It was a celebration created for the adoration of power and martial might. One designed to weed out weak warriors and present to the people their champions. One that glorified battle and bestowed honour on the victorious. It was the most popular festival of the plains folk. A piece of their heritage that they would never part with.

    The Zebre was conceived ages ago. It was a time when the tribes were young and depended on the cultivators in their midst even more than they did now. They were their defence against the daemons, the hunters on which they relied to procure food and essence materials. The Zebre was a celebration held in their honour. A platform for them to display their skills. A proving ground for the young and above all an important tool for ranking warriors.

    That had not changed. Zebre had evolved over the millennia but its core remained the same. For the people of Cragsveil, it was more than tradition, it was life. Nearly every settlement and community hosted their own tournaments. Clans, families, sects, schools, dojos, and individuals, all of them competing for the prize. However, the place to be for the Zebre was DaleGuard.

    It was the martial city. The capital of the region. Warriors came from all over Bathar to take part in the battles. Some even came from neighbouring kingdoms. It didn't matter, DaleGuard was prepared to accommodate them.
    It was the busiest time of the year. You couldn't walk down the street without hearing discussions about the competitors or have some peddler try to sell you a talisman or piece of equipment. And the characters … the sort of people you'd meet. All of them warriors, cultivators attracted by the lure of glory and gold.


    Tirenael Reed looked at the city walls as the carriage drew closer. Using his mage sight, he could make out the many elaborate glyphs embedded in the dark stone. The sheer power they held filled him with awe. He deliberately tuned out the wards. Their glare was too bright. They were still kilometres away from the city and yet its presence affected him.

    'So this is DaleGuard!' he thought.

    He was impressed. Despite being a native of the viscounty, Tirenael had never been to DaleGuard. Even now, he had yet to step through its gates. He and the rest of the people in the carriage were from a sect in Blackford, the old capital. Looking at DaleGuard, he was forced to admit that it truly deserved to be the capital of Cragsveil no matter what the others said.

    It was a place that a lord should live: isolated, defiant, glorious, and surrounded by his soldiers. Viewing it from a distance did not lessen its greatness. Thanks to his powers, Tirenael could gain a sense of just how many had perished around it. The lands surrounding the city were ancient battlefields soaked in the blood of soldiers, Bathans and their enemies alike. Many armies had ridden at DaleGuard in its long history, all of them failing to breach its walls.

    When he grew older he'd definitely get a place like it. Something worthy of him. He was glad that his school was coming to DaleGuard for the festival. Frankly, there was no other place worthy of his debut. After this Zebre, everyone in the viscounty would know his name.


    Aaron Veldt and his cousin prepared to depart to DaleGuard. The last month was simultaneously the best and the worst of his life. He was the most talented Veldt his age and had always enjoyed the best the clan had to offer. At least, that's what he thought at first. The past five weeks had made him far more powerful than he was before. However, this came at a price.

    One the clan paid on his behalf. "An investment", he was told. One he would have to prove worthy of. If he fulfilled their demands, he would enjoy such benefits for the rest of his life if not, well … he did not want to think about it.

    He had spent the last year training harshly for the Zebre and he had considered himself an elite prospect until an elder called on him and everything changed. He, alongside one other, was taken aside and given 'special preparations' for the upcoming tournament.

    He knew, at least partly, why this event was so important and he knew he could not afford to disappoint. This was his chance to secure a great place and life for himself and his clan. He couldn't just be the most talented Veldt his age. He had to show everyone that he was the most talented in the generation. Standing there, he clenched his fist in determination.

    He had to win the tournament!


    Ethan, Beatrice and many other Steelborn youths stood before their clan head. They were ready. They had prepared for this day and it was finally upon them. They were to go out and reveal to the world their strength. The strength of the Steelborns.

    It was more than just a desire for fame or the incredible prizes. It was a matter of pride. For nearly two centuries, the Steelborns had claimed and held the position of mightiest in Cragsveil. They could not lose now. Many of them, despite not being in the know, could tell that this tournament was different.

    The prizes were nearly five times as great and not just that but the tensions between the various noble clans had heightened in the last three months. Just this month, many clans and schools had publicly announced that they would not be competing this year. That was more than a tell-tale sign.

    Every family, clan, sect or school trained their elite youth for the Zebre. Victories and losses in the tournament were the yardsticks by which they and their younger generations were ranked. For them not to participate meant that they had somehow been scared off. That these recognised and acclaimed powers would choose the ignominy of resignation over the possibility of loss was a warning.

    The assemblage of Steelborn youth tried not to be concerned about this. They were the most powerful group of competitors the clan had ever put out. They were Steelborns. The strongest and the hardiest. What did they care about others? Still, the more perceptive amongst them wondered about the help, resources and tutelage their elders had offered them.

    That this Zebre was different was a given. Was there something they should know about?

    "I will not say much," the clan head began. The assemblage quickly quietened and looked up at their lord. He ignored their looks of reverence and instead he addressed them in his low, booming voice.

    "You know your roles. Above all, you know who and what you are. Have no fear! Be enthused! This is our scene. We are Steelborns. We are the mightiest there are. We are born champions, born warriors. Today is the start of the festival of champions, of warriors. It might as well be our festival.

    "This is what we are good at. It is your duty to go out there and remind the world that lest they forget. So, when you stand in that arena, have faith in yourselves. Be confident in your victory and know that you carry us and our name with you. Know that I am with you. That the entire Steelborn clan stands with you.

    "You will do us proud. You will do our ancestors proud. Of that, I have no doubt. You know why? Because you are Steelborns. As long as you keep that in mind and give it your all, you need do nothing else. So prepare Steelborn sons and daughters, in a quarter-hour, we march to our arena and come dusk we'll return, laden with victories".

    Message delivered, the clan head walked away from the courtyard, flanked by his guards. Having accomplished what he came to do, he set off to the next task. That was his nature. The young Steelborns looked at his departing figure with awe. That was their clan head; powerful, inspiring and diligent. They mulled over his words.

    It wasn't the kind of speech that led to raucous cheering. It was the kind that sparked and stoked a hot, lasting fire. One that conveyed sentiment and carried you with it. There was none there that would not remember it and in the years to come it would remain in their minds. When they felt beleaguered, tired, pressured or useless they'd just have to think of it and be calmed and reinvigorated. Because of one speech, a solid reminder that they were Steelborns.

    Few would notice Ethan and Beatrice slip out and walk away. They had their own preparations to make. Theirs would be the hardest challenge. They were the only competing true practitioners after all.


    Valerian finished putting on his armour and strode out of his room, Avery a step behind him. The rays of the morning sun made his armour gleam as he crossed the threshold. Avery had given it extra polish for today. It was a big day and he had made sure to look his best.

    Bright, Steelborn plate over a cyan doublet and a fine cyan mantle over his shoulders. His mace was tied at his side and his hair carefully and purposefully tousled. Attached to his breastplate was his array master's badge. Combined, it made for a striking image. He looked very much the part of a young lord. Perfect for the day's tournament though the effect was slightly ruined by the actions of his grandmother.

    "Oh!!! My little boy has grown up so fast", she squealed as she enveloped him in a tight hug. Pushing him to arm's length for another look she added, "You look so dashing."

    He tried his hardest to keep a straight, nonchalant face through the fussing and he could see his uncles doing their best to do the same albeit for entirely different reasons. The past month had been tough. Much tougher than he had estimated but it was worth it.

    Everyone pitched in. His uncles, his grandma, Avery, all had been involved in his training. He had benefited tremendously from this and he couldn't wait to reveal to the Cragsveil what he had learnt. They'd best be prepared though. Even he was astounded by his prowess. He just hoped that after all his training, the tournament would not be a disappointment.

    Valerian was not being arrogant. Well, maybe a little. In his mind, competing in the Zebre was not him overestimating himself. He had to face off against the best and brightest in the land. How else was he to grow, to prove himself?

    He was weak and he needed to become strong. Something he couldn't do without experience and opponents to face. Throwing himself into the deep end was the best way to learn. In truth, he had stopped considering himself normal a long time ago. At first, despite his many great successes, he still had complications with his qi cultivation.

    Not even his accomplishment as an array master could wash those away. At best, he was smarter than them and had a bit of talent as an arcanist. However, recent events had changed all that. His primary problem had been resolved, freeing him from that crippling and suppressing mental anchor. His physique had also greatly improved putting him far above his peers.

    Paramount amongst them, he had discovered that he was the descendant of a deity and the carrier of its legacy. He was also an heir to the illustrious Menhirionn. To him, all of this was proof that he should not think like or compare himself to the ordinary cultivator. That would be an insult to his blood. The only ones he could compare himself to were the geniuses. The scions of other great clans.

    Only they could be considered his peers and even amongst them, he had to distinguish himself. His goal shouldn't be the best amongst the lowly but the first among the best. Only then could he say he had achieved something. Only then would he live up to his name and legacies.

    He had made a promise, to each of his grandparents, to Richard and most importantly to himself. One he would live up to. He would be powerful. He would be mighty. He would be great. Today would be his beginning. His true debut as a cultivator. The start of the attainment of his dreams.

    Valerian looked at his family, glad to have their support. Without them, he would not have even made it this far. He smiled at them and then looked past them to the entrance of his courtyard.

    "Let's go to the Arena", he requested.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 6: It begins
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Six: It begins


    The Steelborn Arena. Roland's Bowl. The Home of Champions. The lure of the city. It had many titles, all of them true epithets of its greatness. Commissioned by the former viscount, Roland Steelborn, it was perhaps the grandest structure in the entire city. The most renowned of its kind in two counties. Not surprising given it bore the Steelborn name.

    Enormous wasn't enough to describe it. Besides the great battlements that circled the city, the Arena was the greatest construction in the city. DaleGuard reportedly had enough districts to house an estimated fifty thousand people as opposed to its current thirtysomething. The Arena could comfortably seat more than seventy thousand and its walls were as tall as the ones protecting the city.

    Circular with a multitude of seats and pavilions, with a fighting field that was 160 by 90 metres, it was an accomplishment that showcased both human ingenuity and effort. It was built of the same dark, enchanted stone as the city battlements and was nearly as secure both from the inside and outside.

    This protected the fans when attacks from cultivators battling in the fighting field headed towards the seating and allowed it to be used as a shelter for citizens in case of emergencies since it was protected from the outside.
    The entire thing was a marvel to see. The plazas surrounding it were littered with statues of notable warriors in history and even a past champion or two placed in its yard. It gave the place a respectable and even a solemn atmosphere.

    The Arena was a place that honoured strength and a place that allowed others to find and witness it for themselves. A place where battles were glorified and the victorious, worshipped. In a way, it could be said to be a temple for warriors and those who revered martial forte.

    It was also the site of the Zebre.

    In truth, the Zebre began the day before. That was when the sacrifices were made and the other rites were observed. Priests from the viscounty's greatest temples and religious sects would come forth and invoke the heavens and the earth, the deities, spirits, and the ancestors.

    They would ply them with offerings and ask them to bless the land and people, especially the cultivators. The warriors who were tasked with the task of keeping the kingdom and humankind at large safe from the elements and the daemonkin. To make them strong and to ensure that the competitions would bring to light the greatest of their number so that they be known.

    It was a colourful affair. Many of the more devout came to watch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the spirits being invoked. No deities ever descended but sometimes some ancestral or guardian spirits would appear and claim the offerings. This year, the Steelborn StormHawk, the principal spirit of DaleGuard showed itself.

    Not in person. Rather, all that the assemblage witnessed was a gathering of the clouds and winds, a loud avian cry and the feeling of its majesty. Its presence was truly divine and beatific carrying an aura of might and matchless power that washed over the gathering causing all including the spirits present to bow in supplication.

    Somewhat greedily, it claimed everything that had been set out leaving the three others to appear with nothing. However, the most notable thing it did was to bless two children in the stands.

    Blessings from the spirits are rare and many of the people present, priests included had never even seen one. So it came as a surprise. People tried to get closer to the blessed but some Steelborns quickly appeared on the scene to whisk them away.

    That alone was enough to make it clear to all that this Zebre was going to be like none other in recent memory. Even more people rushed into DaleGuard to participate and watch the proceedings to come. Right now, everyone was waiting for the next event to start.

    The Young Lords' Tourney.

    Valerian had long since discovered that the Young Lord's Tourney was more than he had initially thought. Besides the battles for the consolidated first tiers, there were separate branches for team and dual battles.

    Right now he stood next to the other Steelborn competitors, all of them shooting him curious looks. He didn't blame them. They were probably just wondering what he was doing here. Together they listened to the rules. They were delivered by one of the referees, an elderly man from one of the major sects in the viscount.

    The contestants were to be put into four groups. Over the next few days, every participant would battle another person from his or her group. This would go on until each person had battled all others in his group. Then the person with the most wins would move on to the next and final stage alongside his or her counterparts in the other groups.

    Each match was allotted an hour. If the outcome was not conclusively decided by then, the judges would then rule in favour of whoever had made the greatest impression in terms of technique, power and combat acuity.
    The referee would make any necessary calls and had the authority to disqualify anyone found breaking any of the rules. These rules were the standard ones used in the arena: No outside help. No weapons or equipment more than one tier above the participant's cultivation and no killing blows. The conditions of victory were surrender, knock out or a call made by the referee and or judges.

    Following this, they were introduced to the judges in question. Three ancient elders who were all past Zebre champions themselves. They sat on a raised dais in a portion of the arena seating just below the canopy of the watching lords.

    The contestants found it hard not to be intimidated by the fact that the most powerful figures in the county would be watching their performance.

    Soon the participants of the consolidated first-tier tournament were called up. Valerian stood up and walked up to the stage surprising those around him. There were a total of thirteen of them. As a group, they went up and drew lots to decide which groups they would be in and who their first opponents would be.

    Valerian looked down at his piece. He was in group one. The largest group. Given that there were thirteen participants and only four groups one had an extra member – his. The matchups were quickly announced and put up on a large notice board that hovered over the stage for all to see.

    Match One: Valerian of the Steelborns vs Daniel of the Greater Mountain School.

    He looked at it wondering who Daniel was, aware of the many eyes gazing at him. Being the only unknown amongst this year's contestants, he expected it. His sharp ears caught some of the questions and conversations being had concerning him. They made him smile. Few knew anything about him. The rest wondered what he was capable of. If they really wanted to know, he'd be happy to show them.

    The referee marshalled the other competitors off the fighting stage leaving Valerian and his opponent as the only ones besides himself still on it. He reminded them that they had five minutes to prepare but Valerian waived the opportunity. His opponent, however, did not. The burly man he now recognised as Daniel rushed back down to confer with his mates and handlers.
    When the time run out, the burly man clambered up the stage. As he reached the top a member of his team rushed up to whisper something into his ear that caused his face to turn into a scowl. Leaving his team member behind, he stalked up the stage. His steps picking up a furious gait.

    In a moment, he stood before Valerian allowing Valerian to properly appraise him. Steelborns were naturally heavyset but this guy was huge. Valerian doubted he was truly below twenty-five.

    Daniel stood perhaps two-point four metres tall, with a shaved head and full, dark beard. His muscles were thick and corded, bulging obscenely on his gigantic body.

    Obviously, he was very proud of them since he wore no shirt. In fact, besides his vambraces and baggy trousers, he didn't seem to have anything else. Valerian couldn't help but wonder at the standards of the Greater Mountain School. Then the giant spoke.

    "I have been informed that you are supposedly some sort of once in a millennium, gifted array master. Is that true?"

    'Huh!' Valerian mused. 'His voice is softer than I expected.' Outwardly he gave a small nod.

    "I see", the man stated. "Let me give you some advice. Fighting is not the same as whatever it is you do. This tournament is not something you can just sign up for willy-nilly. We spend years training and preparing ourselves for it. Now, I'm not sure how you qualified but it would be in your best interest to just forfeit and go back home".

    Valerian ignored him. Turning to the referee, he signalled for him to start the match. Obligingly the referee did so.

    "FIGHT!" the man yelled.

    His opponent, however, ignored the order, was infuriated by Valerian's casual dismissal. Nothing he had said was untrue. He had trained for years in the hopes of marking his place with the Zebre. This year he turned twenty-five meaning he was ineligible for any following tournaments.

    Imagine his surprise when he saw who his opponent was. From the information his school had, there were to be only two Steelborns competing yet here was a third. Quickly they scrambled to gather whatever intel they could in an attempt to improve his chances of winning.

    The one who whispered in his ear conveyed what they had found out. His opponent was an up-and-coming array master. Some homegrown, homeschooled, half-crippled pansy who spent his time arranging glyphs and making pretty lights.

    Everyone knew the Steelborns were making a power play. Clearly, they put this boy in their midst to remind everyone that they had produced … was it the youngest array master in the century? Not wanting to waste his time he tried to get the boy to quit for his own good instead of becoming a pawn in whatever game was going on behind the scenes.

    He had been ignored. Daniel hated being disregarded. After a brief lapse, he calmed himself. 'Some people did not know how to recognise the good intention of others', he told himself. He'd show the brat the error of his ways soon enough.


    Valerian watched as his opponent's face went through at least four colours. He never knew faces were that expressive. It made him glad for his training. With that in mind, he took two steps forward and executing a picture-perfect bow, he announced himself.

    "I am Valerian, son of Valiant. Surnamed Steelborn, Dual force possessor, Array master of the first circle, Circle master of three attributes, Arcane Disciple of the metal and wind attributes, Tellurian Practitioner of the same, Scion of the House of Cragsveil. May we begin?"

    His opponent mumbled something unpleasant under his breath. He hated pretentious brats like this one.

    "I am Daniel "Fury Palm" Tenor, Tellurian Practitioner of the earth attribute, A Representative of the Greater Earth School in this tournament", he answered.

    Valerian nodded calmly as this confirmed something for him. Avery had been right. He was going to face titled cultivators in this tournament. Titles were symbols of power. Appellations were granted to cultivators who had distinguished themselves. They granted a bit of insight into their styles and specialities.

    For example, Jonas' title was Burst Blaze due to his talent for explosions. Richard's was "Stalwart Spear" for his superior spear and shield skills. A title was a mark of a true cultivator. A sign that he or she was recognised in his or her chosen field. One may choose a title for themself but it would not be official until it was acknowledged by his or her peers and superiors.

    The fact that Daniel had a title meant that his skills had something to do with palms and that he was quite good at it. Raising his hand, he motioned for him to begin the attack.


    Daniel's eyebrow twitched as the brat made a come hither motion. However, he hesitated slightly. Something at the back of his mind bothered him. The boy was too calm. There was none of the jitters or nervousness that he would expect from someone who was as inexperienced as he had been told. He was even egging him on. Something was not right here.

    His gut told him that there was something off about the whole thing. Deciding to end this quickly, he eased himself into a practised horse stance and thrust his arm forward, firing off a skill. A burst of qi left his palm, somehow retaining its shape as it flew at Valerian. It was as quick as an arrow fired from a bow and as it covered the distance between the two fighters it grew in size until it became a giant brown palm two metres tall.

    The brown colour of the qi betrayed its earthen nature and its soft glow highlighted the small smile on Valerian's face as he stood still to welcome it. To the spectators, it seemed as if he took no measures against it. It seemed certain that the qi palm would smack him down. However, just before it struck him a gold sheen came over his armour.

    The large earthen palm struck him, shattering as it met his defences yet leaving him completely unharmed. Valerian was not even been moved by the strike. The scene stunned the watchers who were surprised that someone would face such an attack head-on. The smile on his face grew slightly more noticeable.

    "I suppose it's my turn then!" he said swinging the mace in his hand.

    His response was swift and precise. A massive wind fist hurtled towards Daniel who barely had time to prepare. Quickly, he crossed his arms in front of his face and chest in time to receive the attack. Even so, the impact was jarring. So much so that if Daniel did not lean forward when he did he could have been blown backwards.

    There was a lull in the crowd as everyone focused their eyes on the stage. Daniel raised his to meet his opponents and was met with the smile he was now sure was mocking him. "YOU…" he ground out.

    Daniel had been warned that his opponent was a special case and that he should take care not to hurt him too badly lest he and his school face reprisal from the Steelborns. The warning had come particularly because of how hot-headed he was. The fury in his title had good reason to be there. No one wanted his quick temper to cause an incident.

    Sadly, that warning was now lost on him. His opponent was clearly looking down on him. Enduring his attack and then sending another back in the same style as if trying to make everyone know that he was better than him. From start to finish, the brat had not even taken him seriously. Daniel hated being disregarded and looked down on. And that smile. He'd smack it off his face.


    Valerian waited for his opponent not out of malice but due to his own desire to test and prove himself. He couldn't help it. He was getting excited. Battles were fun.

    "YOU…" his opponent yelled angrily. He didn't even finish his sentence, choosing to attack instead. His arms blurred slightly from his quickened movement and a volley of palm strikes began showering on Valerian's position.

    These were not like the first one. They were much smaller, the size of Daniel's actual palms and created from condensed qi. Thus, they flew faster and hit with greater force. Reacting instinctively, Valerian countered.

    The air around him shimmered as his arcane energy forced the world essence in the vicinity to obey his wishes. The very air condensed, taking on a slight cyan glow as it shaped itself into a multitude of wind fists that launched themselves at the attacking projectiles. Every brown palm was met with a wind fist and forcefully dissipated.

    The crowd watched with wide eyes. Daniel's, however, became red. The brat was doing this to make him look bad. Rather than desist from his current attack, he increased his output. Firing palm strike after palm strike. There was no way that he would back down in front of everyone. To do so would mean that the brat would succeed.

    The number of energy attacks in the air doubled creating a light show that pleased the spectators. It was unbelievable. Even with the increased number of attacks and the chaotic mess that the space between the two had become Valerian was still capable of meeting his opponent's attacks with his own. With precision and skill, he targeted each attack and shot them down with his wind fists.

    Eventually, even Daniel realised that he wasn't getting anywhere. He began feeling the drain on his reserves and was left with no choice but to stop. Once he did so Valerian did as well. Confused he stood still for a moment. The [Stone Palm Barrage] was his best skill. Its mastery was the source of his title. He had never heard of it being countered in such a manner. His mind was still a little numb and at a loss for what to do. Had he just been beaten at his own game?

    There was no way. With a cry of denial, his skin darkened as he infused it with earthen qi and he began to run. Lumbering towards Valerian, he barely made it five steps into his run when a bunch of thick gold chains erupted from the ground beneath his feet and wrapped themselves around him. Stunned, he squirmed and struggled, tendons and muscles straining from his efforts, but they did not give.

    Instead, the chains pulled him down to his knees. He was so focused on freeing himself that it took the cries of the crowd to alert him to what came next. He glanced upwards only to come face to face with a massive blade of golden metal essence rushing forth to meet his neck.

    Unconsciously, Daniel closed his eyes, unable to confront his own death.

    The crowd cried and yelled in alarm as the massive gold blade neared the kneeling Daniel. The referee even released a pulse of arcane energy to raise a shield around him. It was unneeded. Just before the spell met Daniel, it dispersed. Cancelled by Valerian himself.

    He now understood why Richard kept emphasising the need to keep one's head in battle. Previously, he had thought it was obvious but seeing how his opponent had barrelled straight into his trap array, one of three anchored [Jailor's Shackles] littered across the platform, he was forced to admit that maybe it was not so to everyone.

    He turned to glance towards the handlers' station where a pleased Richard stood with his arms crossed over his chest, Avery at his side. Perhaps, this was another thing to be chalked up to good training. Then, turning back to the stage, he waited for the referee to announce his victory.

    Standing in the centre of the stage before his thoroughly defeated adversary and under the stunned and admiring gazes of the thousands of cheering spectators, Valerian stood and hoped that his next opponent would be more of a challenge.




    Author's Note:
    With this chapter, we cross the 100k words mark. I hope you're enjoying the story. I believe I promised gratuitous violence in the story tags of this thread. Expect a lot of it to come, magic too.
    If you've read this far, make a comment mentioning your favourite character or scene so far!
     
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    • BK II, CH 7: Wind Borne Troubles
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    • Chapter Seven: Wind Borne Troubles



    In a special, roofless viewers' box in the Steelborn Arena.

    William Steelborn, Viscount of Cragsveil, turned to his brother. "So that is Valan's boy!" "Not what I expected."

    James glanced away from the fighting platform to look at his brother. "I know. Much more interesting".

    Together two of the sons of Roland Steelborn sat quietly for a moment as they considered their estranged great-nephew.

    "He is a tellurian practitioner now when he had so many issues before. His body is constantly drawing the world's essence in and his essence levels… think this is the reason for the meeting the old man called at that time? He did do so after Valan visited the compound after all."

    William spared his brother a glance. "You didn't go to the meeting? Why?" he asked.

    "You didn't either!" James pointed out. "Besides, it was a meeting with the great elders. We are invited to sit in but not obligated to. Nonetheless, I'm now curious as to what was said and how much of it had to do with the boy before us".

    William considered it for a moment. "I don't doubt it. But there doesn't seem to be enough to justify that meeting being called. Unless… the meeting was more concerned with the reason or method for his sudden and miraculous recovery and power gain".

    By this point, Valerian had gotten off the stage and a new battle was taking place. The first one from Group Two was between a young lady from the Veldt clan and a Junior Acolyte of the Shadowed Hood Sect.
    "Hmmm", James let out. "That is possible. Especially if it was quite rare or precious. I'll have someone find out. Still, there is one question…"

    "Oh!" William exclaimed softly, his left brow rising curiously. "Ask away".

    "How would you rate him? What do you think his chances of winning this tournament are?" James asked.

    William actually required a few seconds to mull it over. "That is surprisingly difficult. I know incredibly little about the boy and his prowess and I would have to base most of my assumptions on the match he just had".
    James nodded, acknowledging the difficulty. He still looked forward to what his brother had to say. William was always good at reading and figuring out people.

    "His control over his arcane energy is exceptional. There are none his age that I know who are his match. He was able to split the standard [Wind fist] into three without even the slightest waste of energy. Moreover, he could do this en mass, reforming them and controlling each separately. That was impressive. Then again, he is a First Circle Array master of three attributes.

    "However, I would be flummoxed if his control over his qi is even half as good considering how long it's probably been at his disposal. With that in mind, I expect any tellurian skills he has to suffer some penalties. Despite this though, I believe he would do quite well.

    "His combat awareness and acuity are noteworthy. As you saw, he was not only able to pay attention to the clash but also planned ahead. Setting concealed traps in the midst of the confusion and preparing follow-up attacks. He could read the battle quite well and his self-control was miles above his opponents.

    "His spell choice plays into his strengths and, thus far, have been chosen to fit the situation. Something he has proved to be apt at. To be honest, I don't see any problem with him doing well in this tournament provided this display wasn't a one-time thing", William finished.

    "You didn't answer my second question. What do you think his chances of winning this tournament are?" James made sure to point out.

    "Slim to none, I'm afraid. If it were any other tournament then he would have no problems getting a good place in the finals. Sadly, it would appear our efforts have had more than the intended effect. While this will be good for the clan it has forced everyone to pull out their best. Right now, I'm worried about his chances of even making it through the group stages", his big brother confided.

    "Ah yes! The count's addition?" James acknowledged.

    Together the two of them turned to look at the man who occupied the seat of honour at William's right. The Count DriftCloud, Lord of the county of the same name. The county in which they resided. Technically, he was William's boss.

    There were many noble families and ranks in Bathar but the ones that truly mattered were the peers. These were the noble houses that held seats in The House of Lords. The ones who had not only land, title and wealth but peerage. Their ranks were structured in hierarchical order. These ranks in ascending order were Baron, Viscount, Count, Earl and Duke.

    The barons were lords that governed or ruled about two thousand five hundred to three thousand square kilometres of land. Their land was called a barony and was the basic regional unit in Bathar. They were the basic peers, granted titles, seats and the permission to recruit their own private armies for the protection of their land. The further up the ladder you went, the greater the boons, wealth and power.

    For example, there were three baronies in every viscounty and it took three viscounties to make a county and so on until you got an earldom. There are only two earldoms in a duchy and only three duchies in the entire kingdom. What land remained was under the direct control of the royal family who superseded everyone and anyone in power.

    For the most part, each of the peers operated separately with the exception of their obligations to the immediate superiors and to the crown. However, the events in DaleGuard were obviously of such great import that they had drawn the attention of many. Many powers had come to take note of the happenings and see how it affected them, if it did at all.

    It was not just Count DriftCloud. Looking around the Lord's Booth, William and James could make out many visiting dignitaries who under normal circumstances would not be here at this time. There was a Viscount from a neighbouring county. Someone who they knew as the nephew of its current Countess. There was an official of the Duchy sitting with some merchants, drinking wine and covertly keeping an eye on the proceeds in the booth.
    There was even a general of the royal army who had come to watch. And that was not counting the various other personages and their different allegiances.

    Clearly, everyone was aware that the events in Cragsveil had the potential to change the regional political climate. They were thus rightly concerned. After all, the ripples could go on to affect them. In fact, none was more so than the Count of DriftCloud, the county Cragsveil lay in.

    The man had not only shown up without a due cause or proper invitation, he also brought along his nephew, a young and powerful true practitioner, to partake in the events. Many of the onlookers could do nothing but smile sadly in the background. Everyone was aware of the fact the prestige of the Steelborns had begun to outshine that of the DriftClouds. They just never spoke of it.

    It is hard being compared to your subordinates all the time. For the common folk to look up to them more than they did you. Ever since Roland Steelborn became the greatest war hero the region had had in recent memory the Steelborns had enjoyed constantly growing prestige. It didn't hurt that by controlling DaleGuard they had their own feudal army in addition to influence over the regional one.

    An annoyingly large number of Steelborns served in the military where they possessed an uncomfortable amount of pull. Long story short, even though the Steelborns had not made any moves at expansion they were still the most-watched and most respected clan in DriftCloud.

    Now that they were taking further actions to consolidate their power and reaffirm their position the Count also had to scramble to prop his up. If not he would lose even more influence and control over his subjects. Thankfully, there was a slight opportunity he could make use of. The Zebre was open to all warriors.

    That was why earlier today he suddenly announced that his beloved nephew had followed him on his trip. He declared the boy's intention of joining the tourney, saying that his nephew, being a martial enthusiast, had felt his blood grow hotter at the thought of pitting himself against other warriors his age. It was all good.

    If the Steelborns were going to use might to prove themselves overlords, he could do the same. For a DriftCloud to win the Steelborn tournament would send the message out quite well. He wasn't worried. His nephew was sure to take it. Besides being the most gifted youngster in their clan, he was acknowledged as one of the favourites in the competition as well as the most powerful in Group One.

    The same group that Valerian was in.


    The Second Day of the Zebre.

    Valerian prepped himself for his battle. The second round of the group stages was to start. This was especially important for him. Normally to qualify for the final required two wins. Due to the nature of his group, he needed three to be safe. Yesterday's match was easy but he had been assured that today's would be different. He had to give it his all.

    He was up against a youth from the Lytaun Dojo. They were a powerful, battle-oriented cultivator school. However, the Lytauns had only sent out one student this year, unlike the Greater Mountains who brought two. That meant he was bound to be the best they had. Definitely more powerful and well versed than his previous opponent.

    He climbed up the fighting stage after listening to Richard's usual warnings. By then, his opponent was there waiting for him. Blake of the Lytaun Dojo was a decent looking fellow. He was the same height as Valerian and dressed mostly in comfortable leather armour, sans sleeves. His feet however were shoved into boots made from a hard opaque material and his knee had metal plates covering it with spikes sticking out.

    He bowed first, announcing himself, "I am Blake, titled Zir Naa're, Tellurian Practitioner and representative of the Lytaun dojo in this tournament. May we duel?"

    Seeing how more reserved and cultured this opponent was, Valerian did not hesitate to do same. Slipping into their fighting stances, they stood at opposite ends of the platform looking at each other, trying to glean some clues before the fight began whilst waiting for the signal.

    "FIGHT!" the referee ordered and Blake immediately burst into action.

    His stance changed slightly, his upper body leaning forward and low as the only pre-indication of what came next. He shot off like a firework, wind attributed qi swirling around him as he run towards Valerian. It was so quick and sudden that he was nearly halfway across the stage before Valerian's counter came.

    He fired a volley of wind fists, seeking to block Blake's advance. It was not difficult to see what he was planning. Valerian had proved his superiority at ranged battle in the last match. Obviously, any tellurian would choose instead to engage in at close range instead, where arcanists were notoriously poor at. Thankfully, the wind fists hampered that plan somewhat.

    'As if I'd let it be that easy', Valerian snorted mentally, at first.

    To his surprise, none of the wind fists he sent out had the effect he expected. When they appeared a swift change happened in Blake's qi. The swirling streams around him quickly condensed forming a brighter cyan glow that centred itself on his legs. When that happened, a strange grace slipped into his movements as his skill transformed.

    He began to jump and leap, twisting and contorting his body to evade the wind fists that came his way. With nothing but grace and skill, he moved ever closer to a stunned Valerian. He had not expected that!

    Valerian did not know it but the combat skill that Blake was using was one of the Lytaun Dojo's prized ones: Zota's Six Drives. It was a method that allowed for six special skills; two movements, one evasive, two attacks and one supplementary. Blake started with the First Drive, [Rushing Wind], a dash skill that boosted linear speed then switched to the Fourth [Playful Gust] in order to manoeuvre through Valerian's volley.

    It was an impressive display of skill and an even more impressive one of control. Not many experts, even in his own dojo, could switch between Drives as easily and quickly as he did. There was a reason he was the primary discipline of his generation.

    Valerian quickly tried thinking of a counter but he had already run out of time. Blake was already before him. Left with a mere four-metre gap, Blake again did something unexpected. He leapt into the air. Valerian fired a series of wind blades to pursue. They didn't help.

    Blake had switched to the Sixth Drive – [Tornado Kick]. The streams of wind qi appeared again only this time in greater number and intensity. Blake continued to rise until he was about five metres in the air and then he began to spin, his qi spinning with him. Faster and faster he went, forming a miniature tornado in the air. The wind blades Valerian sent were caught in this sudden storm and sucked in, becoming part of it.

    For the first time in the tournament, Valerian felt some trepidation. As if to give justification to this feeling, Blake shot downwards. His figure could not be seen. There was only a bladed twister of wind qi.

    Valerian swung his mace to meet it. His arcane energy surged and a massive screen of metal essence responded. The sound of screeching metal filled the arena as the spectators became witnesses to a tornado attempting to grind its way through a metal sheet. The stalemate lasted for maybe a second and then surprisingly, the tornado was sent flying away.

    Blake was barely able to stop himself from being thrown out of the arena. Using his spin to his advantage, he was somehow able to arrest control of his force and land back on his feet. However, he was clearly shaken and drained by the clash. There was an ache in his lead foot. The one that formed the tornado's point.

    The two youths stared each other down, huffing a bit at as a result of their abrupt and intense exertion. Slowly, a smile crept onto Valerian's face. The trepidation in his heart had given way. All he felt now was excitement. A strange calm came over his mind with his excitement whilst his heart began to beat faster. This battle was a pleasant surprise and exactly the sort of stimulation he had been seeking.

    Blake was the same. He had hoped to end with that but it seemed his opponent was tougher than he expected. Still, he realised that he had to end this quickly. [Tornado Kick] was the most qi intensive skill he owned. Its power came at a cost and it was not enough. It had nearly been but it lacked that final push. He had to break through his opponent's defences before he ran out of qi.

    With this in mind, he ran at Valerian again, taking huge steps forward before jumping and transitioning into a flying kick.

    Valerian looked at his opponent somewhat warily but with a trace of bemusement. The idiot was attempting a flying kick from a dozen meters away. How was he supposed to hit anything from there? Then his sharp eyes caught the twist his foe's body made. A split second later, they widened in shock as Blake once more turned into a tornado.

    'That skill can be used laterally?' he exclaimed mentally in shock.
     
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    • BK II, CH 8: Conclusions
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    Blake came spinning at a surprised Valerian. However, Valerian did not remain stunned for long. Collecting himself, he raised his mace as if about to cast a spell but at the last second, he leapt to the side instead. Tornado Blake turned and followed causing a smile to appear on Valerian's face.

    He raised his mace again and this time, he swung with murderous intent. A golden radiance covered his mace as well as his body and everyone who possessed the eyesight necessary could see the tendons in his neck stand out from the effort. He was not using any skill or spell but rather his full strength, enhanced by his qi and drawn forth by his will.

    The tornado that was Blake met this attack in yet another awe-inspiring clash. However, this one did not last as long. He was batted away like a sponge ball. Shocked gasps could be heard all over the arena. Just what level of strength would it take to do that?

    The shock that Blake felt was even greater. He was the one thrown around the stage after all. Barely succeeding in controlling his flight, he came out of the Sixth Drive confused and dazed. His lead foot though protected by the swirling winds ached from the impact. That was unfortunate because Valerian did not plan to let him recover. Rather, he appeared right in front of him, swinging his fists as if planning to take his head off.

    Blake barely got out of the way of the first swing. Raising his own arms, he attempted to block the next. A terrible idea. An audible crack rang through the platform as his right arm shattered under the force of Valerian's strike. Blake screamed his head off but Valerian did not even pause. Instead, he slammed his next punch into his opponent's gut.

    Spittle and blood flew out of Blake's screaming mouth, forced out by the expelled air. He distinctly felt something in his abdomen pulp and at least two ribs fragment. Strangely, the sharp, dreadful pain also cleared his head. Now in genuine fear for his life, Blake did not even hesitate to activate the Fifth Drive: The second movement skill, [Fading Wind].

    If [Rushing Wind] is a forceful advance then [Fading Wind] is an all-out retreat. Valerian was left grasping at air when his opponent's own qi dragged him backwards and away like a fallen rider with his foot caught in the stirrups. The speed at which this took place was even faster than when Blake charged at him at the start of their battle.

    However, Valerian was not slow either, like a hound who had tasted blood, he went after his quarry. The burst of speed he put on surprised even the judges. It made for an interesting sight. A broken tellurian being dragged backwards in mid-air by some unseen force and the armoured arcanist following him at nearly similar speeds.

    Blake stared at his pursuer. The platform was not endless and he was fast reaching its edge. Having drawn away, he quickly switched from the Fifth to Third Drive hoping to slip past Valerian. With his manoeuvrability boosted he executed a half turn and watched his opponent go by. Unable to stop himself, Valerian shot past him, going nearly two metres before he could stop and turn back.

    Holding back the only curse he knew, he made another pass. He knew he had to keep the pressure up. Being relentless was one of Harry's Principles of Attack after all. His opponent was at the end of the tether. A few more strikes and he would have settled it. However, he was finding all but impossible to lay a hand on him. One, two, three attempts, all of them failing.

    Valerian was forced to admit that his current mode of attack was not going to work. Both he and his opponent possessed similar levels of speed but when using that infuriating skill, the other outstripped him in nimbleness and evasive skills.

    He raised his hands, choosing instead to rain [Scything Blades] at him. As predicted, Blake dodged. The Third Drive was extremely good at avoiding those kinds of attacks. As a matter of fact, he took the opportunity to get some space between himself and Valerian. Widening the gap so that he could make one last attempt at turning the battle around.

    Unexpectedly Valerian let him, choosing not to pursue. Actually, he stopped attacking altogether. The annoyed Blake, he did not want to think his opponent was taking pity on him. 'No matter', he thought. 'It will all be over with this.'

    With that thought, he forced his body into the Fourth Drive.


    Zota's Six Drives was an incredible art. It was a Regal ranked tellurian art but its potential and power made it stand out even in that category. For generations, the Lytaun Dojo had relied on it and a few others to maintain their position in Cragsveil. They were not one of its top ten institutions for nothing. However even in the dojo, only a few could bring out the full brilliance of the skill.

    Like every other, it had its strengths and weakness. It was powerful and exceptionally suited to combat. It could also be practised by tellurians of every attribute. It brought speed and striking strength to a high pinnacle making its users tough to fight. Sadly, this was also its problem.

    Zota's Six Drives was constituted of six sustained skill modes. Two for movement, one for evasion, one supplementary and two attack. The underlying principle that tied them all together – speed. It had no defensive skills nor did result in a body that could shrug attacks. If you couldn't evade, you were done for. If your speed was not up to par, everything suffered.

    That was why despite being theoretically possible for tellurians of every attribute to practice it the Lytaun Dojo only allowed cultivators with innate attributes of wind, lightning or light to do so. These were the elements that lent themselves most easily to speed. Of these, in particular, the innately wind attributed were zealously sought after.

    Wind was Zota's own attribute and the one that worked best with his techniques and style. Because of this, the ones who became the true inheritors of the technique in the dojo were the wind attributed. In truth, that was the only reason Bake was part of the dojo.

    He had been an orphaned street urchin when his qi awakened and drew the attention of the main branch of the dojo which was coincidentally situated in the city he lived. His had not been the guided safe awakening that happened in temples, schools or private homes but a forceful, violent one.

    He had been caught stealing. His captors being the type to take the law into their own hands, chose to enact instant justice. They beat him. Beat him so badly that his qi rushed out to save his life. He was six then. Even today, seventeen years on, he carried the scars. Thankfully, not long afterwards, an elder of the Lytaun Dojo picked him up and took him to the dojo. There, he found a home. There, he found family.

    It could be said that he wasn't fighting for his dojo but for his home. Even his name, Blake, was given to him by the Master. This tournament had the entire region unsettled and as the prime disciple of the Lytaun Dojo he would be remiss if he had missed it. He had to win. Their dreams, the dreams of his fellows, his master, his family had been entrusted to him and he would not fail them.

    That was why he persevered through the pain and why he was going to stake everything on this last attack.

    '[Surge]', he intoned mentally.

    In response, his qi went crazy. Every ounce of it was squeezed out of his core and forced into his weakened flesh. This was the Fourth Drive, the supplementary one. It boosted every single parameter of the user at the cost of his qi and body. It consumed qi to push one past his or her limits and doubled the qi intensity.

    To all the onlookers, he went from someone with winds swirling around his body to the eye of a storm. The wind currents whipped his surroundings leaving scars on the arena platform as well as ruffling his clothes. His eyes burned with determination and his aura was filled with it. Even the densest spectators could tell that he was going all-out for this one.

    Ignoring his arm and his gut, he put one foot in front of the other, running at Valerian. Leaping into the air, he entered the Sixth Drive once more. Just before the first revolution was completed, his eyes made out Valerian's face and the smile it had.

    The first thought that flashed through Valerian's head when he first saw Blake turn into a horizontal tornado was, 'That skill can be used laterally?' The second was, 'How does he see in that thing?'

    The answer to that was, he didn't. Valerian knew it was impossible to do so when you were spinning at such speeds. So how did Blake find his way around? Valerian tested the one he would use if he was in his shoes. He swung his mace, pulsing his arcane energy. However, Blake did not show any response. That meant he did not navigate by sensing energy.

    That option eliminated, Valerian dodged the twister. Following expectations, Blake turned, chasing him and proving that he could find his way despite being in the centre of the tornado. Valerian nearly showered him with wind blades when he remembered what happened last time. Then, the solution hit him.

    Blake was constantly sucking up air from his surroundings. That was how he knew where everything was. He was feeling his way using the air currents. Right then, Valerian knew how to beat the technique. Unfortunately, he had no time to do so. He was forced to defend before he got shredded and after he focused on countering.

    Nevertheless, upon realising that he couldn't catch his opponent, he let him open the distance and prepare. Like he predicted, Blake again used his tornado technique. Valerian couldn't help but smile thinking, 'He was at the end of his rope but refused to fall. I then gave him space and he hanged himself with it.'

    'It's time to remind everyone of what I am!' he added.

    The flaw in the tornado skill was that used that way, wind can only detect physical objects with accuracy. They are the things that influence the air currents the most. What Valerian was planning on using was something that air would not detect because it would not disturb it.

    The moment, he saw the technique start, Valerian raised his hands and grasped the air. Concentrating deeply, he begun to draw an array using metal essence. Glyphs flew from his hands, arranging themselves in front of him in the configuration he needed. Once the circle was complete, Valerian enlarged and activated it.

    The crowd watched mesmerised. Most had never even seen an array master at work before. Even those amongst them who were more familiar with the art were startled by his display. Everyone watched breaths caught as the tornado that was Blake neared the array.

    The space separating Valerian and Blake was large but one the latter would cover in less than four seconds. Somehow, Valerian managed to complete and activate a two-metre diameter array in that time with a second and a half to spare.

    Most figured it was some sort of shield. Others held that it was a technique or spell of some sort. None of them had a chance to confer or even voice their ideas. To do so would mean missing the action happening in front of them.

    Tornado Blake touched the array. It shone brightly and he went through it!

    Before anyone could exclaim or even lament its failure, everyone noticed that that the tornado was gone. The winds lasted maybe half a second before dispersing but what was most eye-catching was Blake himself. He came out of the other side of the array somehow shorn of his wind drill. He continued to spin, true, but that was just from the leftover momentum.

    Crashing heavily at Valerian's feet, Blake was surprised to find himself staring at the sky and at his opponent. The impact jarred his wounds causing him to cough up blood. Sadly, it could not leave his bound mouth. He had been gagged. Even worse, he could not move a muscle. Metal bands, twenty centimetres wide, locked him in place, not only trapping him but also suppressing his qi.

    Valerian placed the head of his mace on his opponent's chest, sealing his victory. The array he'd drawn: [Iron Clad Bindings] had worked exactly as planned. A wide smile split his face as the referee announced his win and the healers at the side of the arena rushed to cart his helpless opponent away.

    The crowd roared, showering him with cheers and applause. Meanwhile, in the minds of nearly everyone run a single thought.

    'So this is what array masters are capable of!'


    Magistrate Valan Steelborn sat in his office. The Zebre was a busy time for him. So many issues and civil disputes. Too many drunkards, gamblers and muscle heads roamed the streets already in his opinion. Why did everyone have to join their ranks every year? However, he was nearly done for the day. Once that happened, he could go home and rest.

    Cheers came from the arena. So raucous that despite the distance, he could hear them through his window. Shaking his head, he focused on the files on his desk. Another fight must have ended then. He tried to lose himself in his work knowing it would go quicker that way when a knock came at his door.

    "Enter!" he called out.

    A clerk came in to let him know his presence was needed again. He sighed tiredly and got up. Shrugging his heavy official robes onto his shoulders, he went to settle another case. Yet another group fighting because of a defaulted bet. He was making his way to take his seat when he heard someone say;

    "Hey! Isn't that the grandfather of that guy who won this morning?"

    Valan's head spun so fast a crack came from his neck.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 9: Confrontation
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Nine: Confrontation


    "I never thought you would disappoint me as much as you have right now, Valerian", his grandfather told him. "Did you honestly think I would never find out?"

    Valerian just looked at him refusing to reply. Richard and the others had already disappeared into the night. None wanted to face the angry, claiming to be disappointed, Magistrate. 'Ah! Family! You can always count on them.' At least, he could spot Avery standing in the darkness not too far away.

    He continued to stand there, feeling strangely relieved by the fact that he had been caught. That the confrontation he had been dreading and postponing had come about on its own. He looked intently at the old man. It was funny in a way. There was a time that he would have been cowed by his grandfather's rage. Now…

    "… that you would sneak about and do this. What do you have to say for yourself? What possessed you to do so?" the old man was saying.

    Now, however, he had already resolved himself. He wasn't a child anymore. He knew what he wanted. He wouldn't be dissuaded by anyone. He wouldn't let himself be dictated to, to follow the whims and directions of others.

    Not even his grandfather.

    "What is the problem here exactly? Is it the fact that I didn't tell you or the fact that I entered my name in the Zebre?" he asked coolly.

    Valan was nonplussed. This wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "Do you not see the wrong you have committed?" he asked.

    "What wrong?" Valerian said making sure to keep his tone even. "I wasn't aware it was a crime to participate in the Zebre, magistrate?"

    "Don't play dumb boy!" his grandfather barked at him. "You willfully disobeyed my commands. I clearly stated that you were not to participate in the competition."

    Valerian remained unmoved. "Hmmmn", he intoned. "I was of the impression that the Zebre was a competition that was to be entered independently by the cultivator himself. I know nothing about their grandparents deciding for them. Are people even allowed to bar others from entering?" he asked.

    It was clear to the magistrate that the Valerian in front of him wasn't the one he was used to. "Tell me Valerian", he began. "If it wasn't wrong, why hide it from me? If you were so proud of your decision and there's no wrong in it, why the need to conceal your activities?"

    Valerian did not hesitate to respond. "Perhaps, it is because I did not want a certain someone to come up to me and act exactly like he is right now. Perhaps, I have decided that I do not like the way you tend to micromanage my affairs. Perhaps, I have reached the point where I can choose for MYSELF!"

    Valerian had been trying to keep himself calm the whole time but somehow the closer they got to the heart of the issue the more the feelings he had been keeping bottled up threatened to burst out. It showed most especially at the end. Despite himself, the last part came out at a near shout.

    His grandfather displayed a confounded expression but he had begun to understand what was happening. "Is that what this is about? A cry for independence? Some sort of teenage rebellion?" he questioned.

    "You are trying to prove that you are grown enough to make your own decisions by running out and entering a dangerous competition where people have and will continue to die or be crippled in. You quickly abandon everything I have been trying to teach you so that you put on some barbaric display in the arena?

    "I must say that I expected more from you Valerian!" he exclaimed in a disappointed tone.

    "I'm not sure what's causing you to act this way. You are thirteen now, mayhap it is just part of being a teenager. However, I have always thought you better than that. To think that you would rather that brutish life. What next, heavy drinking and no bathing? Look outside Valerian, those people are a mark a dozen. I may have laid out some options for you but they are there to make you into a better man not 'micromanage' as you put it.

    "Sadly, it appears my efforts have gone unappreciated. My hopes for you, discarded. I only wish what is best for you Valerian, you might not be able to see it but it is true. That might be why it hurts so much to see the path you are taking. Perhaps it is something you can only gain with age. Then again as you wish to remind me, you are old enough to make your own decisions. Looking at the ones you are making, I shudder to think of the ones to come.

    "I hope it goes well then. I will not fight you on this. Do what you will! I will not give you greater cause to rebel. If it is independence you wish for then you shall have it. Mayhap, you will see your error in time to correct it. Until then, this micromanaging old man will only stand by", he ended.

    Valerian gave his grandfather a searching look. He found no tells in his body language or any emotion besides the sadness and disappointment he displayed. It was a masterful performance. One deserving of applause and Valerian was of a mind to start clapping.

    'What is he expecting? That by looking hurt and sad I'll suddenly change my mind. Oh, grandfather! I see the error of my ways now. I apologise. You were right. Please take me back', he thought disdainfully.

    Valan truly was a master of speech and manipulation. The ordinary parent would have made some angry rant or used some form of clingy approach. He chose a different one. Rather than force or command and be met with opposition, he drew you in with reason and guilt. He made it seem as if he understood where Valerian was coming from and that he was sad.

    Instead of being angry or raising his voice, he seemed sad, despondent and disappointed. Like he had only tried his best and was being persecuted for it. He did not try to pull him back to his side but instead made to cut him off.

    This way, he avoided any true clash of wills that would result in a drawn out or angry argument. Yelling usually only invites more yelling as everyone tries to outshout the other. Besides this, he made you feel as if you were the one who was wrong instead of coming out and saying it. By being sympathetic, he took the wind out of your sails, robbing you of your momentum.

    The ending stroke was perhaps the best. After invoking guilt and sympathy for himself by looking like the victim, giving up the way he had would make his opponent unsure and uncomfortable with his or her victory.

    'Did I make the right choice?' That is the thought that is likely to come into your head after listening to him. The less resolute would immediately capitulate here, afraid that they had made the wrong choice. That kind of doubt lingers in the mind causing one to second guess everything. Combined with the other factors, it was more than enough to direct things his way.

    Unfortunately, the person he was attempting this with was not ordinary himself. Valerian was his own grandson. Someone who possessed similar acumen and who he himself had trained. He might be able to tug at his heartstrings but there was no way he could sway him once he had made up his mind. Not after being trained to control his emotions and not to act on impulse.

    As such, he merely took in the performance, remaining impassive and composing his own argument. When his grandfather was done, he began.

    "A man I considered wise told me once, 'Power is the most important thing in Verre!' At the time I did not understand but as time went on I did. In doing so, I have learnt a few things along the way. The most surprising thing I have learned is that the man who informed me of this great fact is the one that is preventing me from gaining the power he advised getting".

    He felt a small amount of satisfaction at the stunned look that flashed across the man's face.

    "I'm sure you know who the man I speak of is", he added.

    "What do you mean…" his grandfather tried to get out however Valerian raised his hand, the first time he had done so to the old man, shocking him into silence and continuing.

    "For someone who claims to understand the world and what is right, you seem strangely conflicted. You revere power and place it as the standard. 'Verre's measure' I remember you calling it. Yet, every time you talk about cultivators and martial might you try to demean them like they are something distasteful and hateful. Like it is beneath 'a proper gentleman'.

    "I say this because I know. I know full well that if you could, you would. Or am I wrong grandfather? If you could participate in the Zebre today, wouldn't you?" he asked.

    "I am afraid I do not understand what you are talking about Valerian," the old man said.

    "Sure you do. The great and wise Valan Steelborn understands everything under the heavens does he not? Answer the question then!" Valerian interjected.

    "I think we are going on a tangent here Valerian. Let us get back to the issue at hand", his grandfather avoided.

    "Answer the question grandfather!" Valerian restated.

    The old man looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Nonetheless, he knew Valerian would not let it go so he answered, "No! I would not!"

    Valerian sighed and shook his head. "Now, I am the one disappointed in you. It is sad that you would rather lie when both of us know the truth. You have opened my eyes today. In return, I will tell you another of the things I have learned.

    "The man I spoke of has a serious problem. Like the fox in the fable, he is unable to reach that what he truly wants and thus spends his time disparaging it. You might not admit it but if you had the power grandfather … I do not need to say. You might insult cultivators and try to look down on them but it is only because they have what you do not!

    "Or do you truly think that combatants are ignorant brutes? Truthfully, I often wonder whether you realise that you include grandmother, Richard, your own father and more than half the clan when you say that.

    "Also, I have thought long and hard about why you would want to stifle me as you do and I have only one conclusion". Seeing that the man wanted to interrupt, he quickly added.

    "Let me finish!"

    "I admit that you might indeed have some misguided notions of protecting me. However, it does not explain why you would not let me garner the power I need to protect myself. Why you have 'laid out options' that seem to end with me either becoming some cushy court official or array master with little to no combat power besides the ability to create and sustain shields.

    "It was only until I realised that you weren't doing it for me but yourself that it begun to make sense. You want to groom me into a more successful version of yourself. To prove to everyone, especially yourself that one does not need to be capable of battle to have worth. That intellect trumps strength! It is funny then that whilst the 'options' are indeed intellectual there is none that does not require a powerful cultivation base.

    "The contradiction in that is quite worrying. Even more worrying is the fact that you are willing to manipulate, lie and worst of all disregard my own wishes to accomplish your goals. You would rather I do not have ideas or aspirations of my own. I am still uncertain as to how I feel about that.

    "I do know one thing though. I refuse to be subject to anyone's wishes but my own. I do not ever want another situation where I would be surrounded by enemies and have nothing but shields to fall back on. I do not want to have to flee my foes. They should run from me! You might not realise it but I would have died on that camping trip if grandmother had not taught me the things she did. Things you did not want her teaching me.

    "In a way, I am thankful for that trip as it was the straw that broke my back. It let me see things even more clearly. I came close to death and discovered that I have never lived. So now I will do so. Live that is. For myself, how I wish and may the Heavens damn whoever thinks otherwise!"

    "Wait, Valerian, I think you misunderstand, I'm not trying to…" the old man tried to come in.

    Valerian did not let him do so. Having come this far, he could tell that if he stopped now he probably would be able to continue. He had to get it all off his chest now.

    "It doesn't matter anymore grandfather. I have made my choice. You might not like it. You might be disappointed but that does not matter to me anymore. I am more than your grandson. I am my own person and I will do as I wish. If you choose to sever ties with me, so be it. Just know, I'm done as well and unlike you, I am willing to fight on this issue.

    "In fact, I've come to realise that I quite like battling actually. It is extremely exhilarating. The way it makes the blood pump might even be addicting. Something you would know if you weren't always calling the grapes sour", he ended.

    "Valerian, I…" his grandfather tried again. Somehow everything was going out of hand. This was not what he had wanted at all.

    "I'm done, grandfather! I am done! Good night!" he said walking away. He did so ignoring all of the old man's imploring calls. Speaking his mind had felt good but it was also draining. He was tired. He just wanted to rest now.


    Valan just stood there watching his grandson walk away. Nothing had gone like he had expected. Nothing had gone anywhere close to right. He was confused, hurt and worried at the same time. 'Was Valerian right? Was what he said true? Am I the one in the wrong?' he couldn't stop the thoughts streaming in his head.

    He just knew that he had made a mistake. A great error. One that had possibly cost him his grandson. However, he did not know what to do or say to correct it. 'Can I even make it right?' he asked himself.

    A hand slid into his. Startled, he spun around only to come face to face with his wife. Clara stood there as if she had always been there. Valan did not have to ask to know that she had heard everything.

    "I…I…I just…I only tried to…" he mumbled.

    "I know", she simply said, drawing him close.

    "You were right", he finally got out.

    "I always am but that is beside the point. We need to have a talk of our own", she told him.

    Author's Note: Things are heating up! Valan realises that his actions are only pushing Valerian away. Valerian learns to stand on his own.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 10: The Wind Borne Cloud
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Ten: The Wind Borne Cloud


    The next couple of days were very quiet and awkward in the magistrate's household. Valerian tried not to pay it too much attention. He was still a contestant in the Zebre and there was only one more match before the finals – his. He had no time for other matters.

    For the best chance of getting into the next stage, he would need to win every match especially since the remaining competitor in his group had also won every one of his matches and was a favourite to win the entire thing.
    That morning, he had breakfast in an unbelievably tense atmosphere. There was no longer any need to hide anything. No more covert transmissions around the table. He just informed Richard when he was ready and they left for the arena.

    The arena was pumped up like Valerian had never seen it. Today, was the day of the very last group match. Valerian Steelborn vs Kalian DriftCloud. Afterwards, the runner-ups in the groups would duke it out to find the fifth seat. Everyone was looking forward to it.

    There had been no true dark horse in this particular Zebre. Each and every single competitor had at least one claim to fame. Only, some were more well-known than others. Even Valerian who did not have much of a social presence was acclaimed far and wide as a genius array master and infamously as a 'cursed talent'. He just hadn't been known as much of a fighter.

    The person he was going to be fighting was similar but in the opposite way. Kalian from the House of DriftCloud was the nephew of the count of the region. Unlike Valerian, he was known as a martial talent with a particular flair for combat. The DriftClouds were recognised as both a powerful and an ancient family. They were not only one of the oldest clans in the region, they were also its lords.

    The name of the county was taken from their surname, not the other way around. That's how long they had had control over the region. Kalian was considered a fitting successor to that legacy. A combat genius who had distinguished himself at an early age. Whilst Valerian's rise to fame was as a disappointment, a 'cursed talent'. His was that of the 'blessed one'.

    When it was announced that he would be taking part of this year's Zebre, many were filled with excitement. They couldn't wait to see this star in action. They were confused as to why he would go all the way to DaleGuard to compete but they were excited nonetheless. Many rushed over, swelling the already record-high numbers in the city.

    At first, it seemed as if he would have no challenges until he met the other favourites. To his fans, their hero had smooth sailing until the finals but Valerian changed that. Everyone was now looking forward to it. The House of Cragsveil versus The House of DriftCloud. The two greatest powers in the land. Valerian might not be the primary Steelborn competitor but his performance thus far had inspired faith in him. Others still felt he was too inexperienced and that actual combat wasn't even his field.

    He was an array master, not a warrior.


    Valan Steelborn made his way to the Lords' Booth, his wife at his side. His presence surprised many of the figures. There were many who did not know who he was but those who did were truly surprised that he would show his face at such a place. Some city officials quickly went to greet him. Others were confused. This old man was clearly a major player and yet they knew nothing about him.

    Valan maintained his customary look of nonchalance as he made his way towards the front and centre of the room. Seats in the Lords' Booth were arranged according to power and affluence. The greatest seat of honour was the centremost one in the front row. A seat currently occupied by the Count DriftCloud himself. The closer you were to that seat, the more important you were.

    That was why city officials and rich merchants sat at the back. The nobles and other truly powerful figures were up in the front and that's where Valan was headed. It was an eye-opener for many who still hadn't figured out his identity. They gave him and his wife several lookovers, wondering just where he was going.

    It must be known that sitting in the wrong place was more than a simple faux pas. It could be social suicide. That was why people tended to wait till they were announced and directed to their seats instead of seating themselves.

    As for Valan, his bearing was impressive and his robes, beyond fine, but as for his cultivation it was beyond deplorable. The woman at his side, however… maybe, he was escorting her.

    True. If Valan was to rely on his position as a city official there was no way he would go further than the second row from the back in this setting. However, he wasn't here today as Valan Steelborn, Magistrate of the Western Sector of DaleGuard and its environs but as Valan Theophilus Steelborn. Youngest son of the Steelborn Patriarch. The brother of the Viscount and technically an elder figure of the viscounty's ruling house.

    Thus, he made his way towards his brothers. Thankfully, the organisers always made sure to leave a few seats unoccupied in the noble area just in case another dropped by. He sat himself down and Clara sat with him.

    "I was wondering if you would ever actually show", William said as greeting.

    "Why wouldn't I?" Valan asked.

    It took a while before he realised that both his brothers were shooting him incredulous looks. "Was that meant to be a serious question?" William inquired.

    Valan sighed mentally. It appeared his attitude and opinion were indeed known far and wide. It didn't matter anymore.

    "Well, the past is the past. I am here today to support my grandson!" he declared.

    In response, his brothers merely shot him a glance and focused back on the stage. Clara, however, gave him a pat on the arm as if to tell him, "Good boy!"


    Valerian stood in front of his opponent. Kalian DriftCloud was the handsome sort. At least, he was more so than Valerian himself. Both were lithe, muscular fighters, hinting at a predilection for speed. Despite that, Valerian was slightly taller even though his opponent was older. He was also clad in metal armour whilst his adversary wore leathers and flowing silk robes.

    Another difference between them was that Valerian was clearly prepared for the battle. His face was, as usual, composed but any who knew him would be able to tell how tense he was from the set of his shoulders. He had his mace out ahead of time and the spell glimmer on his armour was brighter than usual.

    Kalian, on the other hand, was completely at ease. He was so carefree it was hard not to think of him as overconfident. The smile on his face was broad and he stood there with his hands behind his back. From time to time, he would raise a hand and wave at a particular group of screaming fans.

    Valerian was a bit tired of it. He announced himself, "I am Valerian, son of Valiant. Surnamed Steelborn, Dual force possessor, Array master of the first circle, Circle master of three attributes, Arcane Disciple of the metal and wind attributes, Tellurian Practitioner of the same, Scion of the House of Cragsveil. May we begin?"

    His opponent ignored him at first choosing instead to turn and wave at yet another screaming fan. The disrespect had no visible effect on Valerian. However, he did resolve himself not to hitch his punches as much for this fight.

    Eventually though, Kalian did same. Announcing himself as, "Kalian, son of Darius, Surnamed DriftCloud, 'The Bright Cloud', Tellurian Practitioner of the wind attribute, Scion of the great and illustrious House of DriftCloud. I grant you this chance to duel me."

    Valerian had begun to believe that his opponent was deliberately trying to provoke him so he paid him no mind at all. Rather, he prepared for the commencement of the battle.

    "FIGHT!" the referee called.

    Valerian waited for his opponent to attack but after a few seconds, it was clear that wasn't going to happen. Kalian was still catching kisses from the crowd and waving at his increasingly louder fans. Turning to Valerian with a condescending smile he said, "Feel free to attack first. I don't want to be seen as bullying a junior. Besides, it wouldn't matter anyway."

    Valerian raised an eyebrow as if asking if he was serious but Kalian had already gone back to what he was doing. He was obviously baiting him but Valerian didn't mind. He sent out a few probing attacks. All of them were attacks he had used before so that he could some card to himself.

    A mass of [Wind Fists] and [Scything Blades] rushed at Kalian. At first, it looked like he was completely ignoring them but at the last moment his form shimmered and appeared a few metres in front of Valerian. The spells continued flying onwards behind him. After that brief pause, he disappeared again, his figure shimmering and dispersing like the morning mist under the glare of sunlight.

    Luckily, Valerian had been prepared for a counter or attack of some sort. Even so, he barely caught what happened next. Kalian wasn't teleporting he was just running from one spot to another. Only he did so so fast that all Valerian and most of the audience saw was a blur at first. He weaved through the attacks. Stopping to let everyone know that he had evaded Valerian's attack and then attacked himself.

    His counter was blindingly fast. Alarmed as he was, Valerian barely caught it. One second Kalian was in front of him, the next he was swinging a sword at him from his left. He poured as much energy into his [Valiant Armour] as the spell and time allowed causing it to flare brightly even in the daylight.

    Sword met arcane shield in a grinding, blinding clash. The impact stopped Kalian causing him to become visible to many of the spectators who could previously only hear his rushing wind. Valerian's heart had leapt into his throat. Kalian's sword was not an ordinary weapon. It burned in his enhanced vision, revealing its nature to be an essence artefact that was actually superior to his mace.

    Due to the brightness of his shield spell, many were unable to tell but Valerian thanks to his proximity and abilities could see the blade force its way into his shield spell. Frantically reinforcing it, Valerian swung his mace at his foe.

    Like a dream upon waking, Kalian slipped away like it was second nature. All Valerian's mace met was air. He rushed forward, trying to continue his attack by spinning and bringing the increased force on his opponent's shoulder. Then, Kalian blurred again.

    Valerian barely got his arms up in time to block the kick that came at the right side of his head. He was fortunate to have done so. Even with his [Valiant Armour], the hit rocked him. Due to the precarious position he had been in, amid swinging spin, he was almost toppled. It hadn't been a light one either but thankfully his constitution handled it without any problems.

    Unfortunately, in order to protect his head, he was forced to let go of his mace which caused it go flying off and left him bereft of a weapon. Thinking quickly, nine weapons flew out of his interspatial ring to orbit him causing Kalian to back off again.

    The scion of the House of DriftCloud landed lightly on his feet. Somehow doing so a dozen feet from Valerian with little discernible movement. His sword remained out, gripped in his right hand. Valerian was covered in a cold sweat knowing full well how close that sword had come close to striking him in that last exchange.

    If his weapons hadn't come out when they did, his adversary would have completed his transition from kick to sword swing. Thankfully, he was interrupted.

    "You're better than I thought", Kalian said mockingly. "Not by much but still better than I thought. You've surprised this young lord".

    Valerian ignored him. His mind was busy trying to figure out a way out of this predicament. He had known beforehand that his opponent was not going to be as easy as the other two but even that hadn't prepared him for the reality of the situation. Kalian was too fast. At least twice as fast as Blake. If he did not find a way to limit his opponent's speed, he would continue to be at his mercy.

    Evidently, the stories were true. The DriftClouds were indeed the fastest clan in the region. Then again, they should be. Their legacy technique was the [Wind Borne Cloud], the only profound ranked movement skill in the entire duchy. There was no one who can contest them in the speed department.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, Ch 11: A Sporty Wager I
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Eleven: A Sporty Wager I

    A few thousand years ago there were no DriftClouds. At the very least, their line had not been established yet. However, a young mercenary would make a discovery in the forgotten ruins of an ancient cultivators' sect and in doing so, open the doors to becoming one of the major powers in the region.

    What he discovered was a movement skill known as the [Wind Borne Cloud]. An incredible low-ranked Profound technique created by an ancient expert that sought to touch the pinnacle of speed as well as evasion. His use of it would earn him the title "Drift Cloud" and with the time that title would become his surname and following that, the name of his lands.

    As for the method that spawned it, it would become the foundation of his family. A legacy to be handed down the generations, that it might ensure their success just as surely as it did his.

    What little is known about the [Wind Borne Cloud] encompasses two points. One that it was created using the principles and concept of a cloud in the sky. The user becomes like one himself; ephemeral, nigh insubstantial, formless, buoyant, wind-powered, etc.

    The second is that despite being a movement skill it has incredible offensive capabilities. At its core, it might be focused on evasion and movement but none should forget that clouds aren't harmless. They are chaotic bundles of elemental forces and are very often heralds of the destruction that is storms. It is also highly compatible with many weapons skills whilst boosting the power of wind-related ones.

    To the people of DriftCloud, [Wind Borne Cloud] is not just a godly technique it is also an unbeatable one. There are no others that even come within two full ranks of it. Then again, no one knew the ranks of [Steel Monolithic Art] or even knew of the [Manifold Elemental Incarnations]. The Steelborns would never broadcast such sensitive information.


    Valerian's task at the moment was how to counter this problem: How to beat a technique widely recognised as unbeatable? He understood the reasoning behind the assertion. Speed did trump strength when used correctly but had he expected his opponent to be so much faster than him? Certainly not!

    Plus, there was something strange about the technique. Valerian's senses, his eyesight, in particular, were exceptionally good. He could see and track Kalian's movements. True, he was not fast enough to make good use of it or even react fast enough but there was something else that bothered him. The blurry image he kept seeing when his opponent moved.

    Blurs only happen when an object moves too fast for your eyes to properly capture it. However, Valerian's eyes were fully capable of tracking and following his opponent's movements. Even so, the blur persisted, distorting his view of his opponent's body.

    'Is that another effect of his technique?' he wondered. 'Perhaps a way of disguising his movements and making it even harder for him to track or anticipate?'

    He was forced to abandon his thoughts and focus on the battle at hand. Why? Kalian had blurred forward. His treasured blade caught the sunlight when he swung it at Valerian but Valerian was prepared. He had recognised the solution even before coming to the arena today.

    The only way to beat Kalian was to rob him of his mobility.

    With his [Valiant Armour] strained from the arcane energy he had poured into it, Valerian reached his hand out to catch the blade. His qi surged, filling up his body and pushing it to his greatest state. This was a battle that required his all. Unfortunately, his opponent did not meet him head-on.

    In a strange drifting motion, Kalian went sideways, resulting in his actual position being a little to the left of Valerian. Valerian had to think fast. Regrettably, despite himself, he was unable to get his body to move well enough or fast enough to execute the action he wished to.

    Kalian's sword struck his armour and glanced off it. Instead of stopping, he sped up circling Valerian and raining hit after hit on him. It didn't matter what Valerian tried. He was simply unable to keep up with his opponent. Nonetheless, with his defence he was able to endure the barrage somewhat. Focusing on maintaining his shields, he began to lay the groundwork for another ploy.

    Then something caught his eye. A spurt of anger shot from his heart. His plan was driven from his mind in that moment. With a cry, he released a massive pulse of arcane energy sending his opponent flying away. The bastard had been hitting him with the back of the blade!

    Immediately after doing so, Valerian regretted it. He had just wasted an opportunity to mount a counterstrike. Even so, the indignity his opponent had visited on him remained in his mind making his expression darken.
    Determined to make the best of the situation, he pursued Kalian. The expelled energy had carried a lot of force knocking him back. Regrettably, the bastard was none the worse for wear. He actually hung in the air for a bit, floating down lightly like a falling leaf with a mocking smile on his face.

    Seeing that smile made Valerian push himself just that much harder, forcing his qi to circulate as fast as possible whilst pushing his body enhancement to near unsafe levels. The effects of that could clearly be seen. He shot off like a stone from a sling, disturbing the coarse sand on the fighting platform. His target? Kalian of course.

    Reaching the bastard, he swung his fist infusing it with all his murderous intent, hoping it would shatter his face. It was dodged but he expected that. He kept up the attacks delivering blow after blow with that same intent and ferocity yet, none of them connected. Kalian remained just a few centimetres out of range, somehow shifting positions in the most unpredictable ways.

    Valerian felt his anger rising but he shoved it down. He had to keep level-headed. He kept his eyes open trying to figure out his opponent's secrets and weaknesses. Thankfully, the idiot was happy to keep up the display. No doubt, he was glad to put on a show for the people watching. After a few more attacks, Valerian began to notice a pattern.

    What's more, he could sense the qi his opponent was slowly releasing into his surroundings. At first, he believed it to be the reason he blurred when he moved but its true purpose was more insidious. Valerian wasn't sure how but it was the secret to Kalian's evasive abilities. The qi stirred the air around his body something Valerian would never have noticed if not for his arcane abilities. He continued his unrelenting assault, watching how it reacted in the hopes of understanding it.

    However, Kalian had grown tired of being so passive. The current scene was becoming stale anyway. So he acted. His form shimmered in the air. Whilst everyone stared intensely not wanting to miss what was coming next, he moved swiftly and stealthily, circling Valerian and attempting a brutal backstab.

    Imagine his surprise when just when he was extending his sword, another massive pulse of arcane energy pushed him away. Startled, he rushed backwards a further three metres. Valerian turned to face him. Refusing to let his shock show Kalian straightened himself and began clapping

    "Well done! You have good instincts. This young lord is becoming more and more impressed".

    Valerian said nothing. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the Kalian that had been in front of him fade away. 'An afterimage', his mind supplied. That had been dangerous. The bastard was truly skilled. In addition, his technique was just too good.

    Valerian had gotten too used to seeing the blur whenever Kalian moved. Thus, he was unprepared when Kalian seemingly slipped out of himself and tried to get behind him. One Kalian blurred forwards, swiping at him with his sword. The other however had no blur. In fact, Valerian had not even been sure he was real at first. If he hadn't noticed that the one attacking was fake he might have been…

    Tellurian afterimage skills aren't like their natural counterparts. Often when an object moved too fast for the eye to see, it deceived the eye into thinking it was standing still. Only after some moments pass that the person would realise that the object wasn't where he thought it was. That is how natural afterimages worked. Tellurian skills are different.

    For one thing, it is impossible to leave a natural afterimage intentionally. To do so required moving faster than your opponent could track. How would you know the correct speed to move at? How would you know if your opponent could track you? How would you know if it worked?

    What's more, the answers to these questions would differ from situation to situation and opponent to opponent. For example, creating an afterimage to deceive a normal person would be completely different from doing so to a cultivator.

    What tellurian skills that created afterimages do is that they create impressions from the user's qi. Depending on the kind and rank of the skill, you could create images with a variety of effects. Valerian had even read of skills that made images which had substance and were capable of attacking independently. Mercifully, Kalian's image had been illusory allowing Valerian to detect its true nature.

    It worried him. He had gotten drawn into his opponent's rhythm, a taboo according to both the [Arts of Harry and Clude]. He began taking what he saw to be the standard yet back then, Kalian had moved without a blur making him harder for people who looked out for the blur to see him. He even suppressed his presence and increased his speed.

    Looking at the melodramatic DriftCloud, still speaking a lot about nothing, he came to a conclusion. 'I have to be more careful'.

    Meanwhile Kalian was saying. "…is now curious. How will you fare if I increased the difficulty slightly?"

    Valerian only took note of his words only when he saw him blurring again. This time, three images appeared. Each one stepped out of the central figure. Valerian kept his eye on them keeping track of the real one. Given that Kalian did not know he could track him, it was best to keep it that way until he figured out a way to use that to his advantage.

    This time, all four of them blurred as they came at him together. They moved in irregular patterns, often crossing each other's paths to confuse him. After rushing about with no proper pattern, one came at him from the left. It was not the real one but Valerian chose to block it anyway. When he struck it, it dispersed. Turning into smoke that swirled around him and tried to block his sight.

    'Shit!' Valerian cursed but his opponent's attacks were already upon him.

    The same pattern as before repeated itself. Only this time, Kalian was being more careful. He did not hit him as much but each hit was more than twice as powerful. He began to beat Valerian, pummelling him in an attempt to get through his spells and armour.

    Valerian ignored him. He could take the beating. This time he would not waste the opportunity it provided. For the first time since the battle started, Valerian smiled. His spell was ready. A rumbling filled the air. It was the only warning Kalian and the watchers received, for the next moment, the sky fell onto the stage.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, Chapter 12: A Sporty Wager II
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Twelve: A Sporty Wager II


    The wind swirled without warning causing everyone to look up. They didn't have to look far. The commotion was happening only fifty metres above the fighting platform. The more essence sensitive had a slight edge over their contemporaries. They could sense the ridiculous amounts of arcane energy that was directing the events.

    An unseen hand shaped the wind to its wishes. Kalian took several steps back, his attacks on Valerian temporarily forgotten as he stared upwards in fear. He was right to. Before his stunned eyes, the sky began to fall. At least, that's what it seemed like to those watching.

    In truth, that wasn't exactly far from the truth. [Wind Fists] and [Wind Blades] began to rain down from above. They came chaotically, in different sizes and intensities, from the size of a small blade or a child's fist to massive fists that dwarfed men and blades that could slice oxen lengthways. Many didn't even fly straight nor did they come straight down. Rather, they descended from a variety of angles. There were some that didn't even hit the stage but flitted here and there like falling leaves.

    Too late, Kalian turned back to Valerian to discover that he was smiling at him, safely ensconced in a massive spherical blue arcane barrier. Realising that Valerian was the one responsible made his expression worsen. However, he did not despair. He began to blur again.

    The raging winds lasted for close to two minutes. In that time, Kalian was everywhere. His characteristic blur did not even pause for a second. There were many instances where it looked like he had been chopped to pieces or crushed but he just kept going. He even seemed to stroll through some of the attacks and in some cases, you could hear his sword clashing with some of the wind blades.

    The crowd watched mesmerised, strangely quiet as if afraid to disturb his concentration. There wasn't a single person who had expected the turn of events. One moment, Kalian was abusing his opponent, the next it was uncertain if he would even survive the onslaught that had been called forth. Not even Valerian was exempt from the wind barrage.

    It was not something he could control. What he had done wasn't a proper spell after all and even if it was, not all spells could be controlled. He had stirred up the wind essence around him and given it some guidance. Then, he sat back and let the rest develop naturally. However, he was not lax. Only an idiot would create something he couldn't create without putting up some countermeasures.

    Valerian was not an idiot. The first chance he got, he cast [Mage Guard] to protect himself. Only then did he stand back calmly in his arcane dome and admired his handiwork. The entire surface of the fighting platform was scared and scoured. There were a variety of different-sized craters and gashes in the sturdy stone and yet it failed to put down his opponent.

    Kalian stood in front of him, panting slightly and looking victorious. He raised a hand and cried out in triumph inciting the crowd to cheer. Valerian could only gape in astonishment. Besides being sweaty, the only signs that Kalian had been through an ordeal were the rips and tears in his clothes and a shallow cut on his right forearm.

    Deciding not to stand there slack-jawed, Valerian charged forward hoping to catch the idiot whilst his guard was still down. The nine weapons around him shot forward, forcing Kalian to parry them. Reaching him, Valerian did not hesitate to grab his arm and twist it into a hold. He attempted to force his opponent to his knees but with a queer flourish, Kalian's arm slipped from his grasp.

    He was like a ghost or better yet a plume of smoke. His arm seemingly became formless and with a twist, it escaped Valerian. He backpedalled quickly and fell right into the second half of Valerian's plan. When his foot touched the ground as he retreated, a circle of light appeared and numerous cyan bindings reached out and tied him up.

    Valerian smiled as he strode forward. He had long since bowed down in recognition of Kalian's superior evasive skills. It was like everything he saw he could avoid. The obvious solution to this was to give him an attack that he never saw coming.

    While he had hoped that the spell squall he called down would do the job he was not one to leave things to chance. Using the storm as a cover, he prepared other spells as failsafes. Who would notice a few more wind-attributed energies in the midst of the storm raging around them?

    With this thought in mind, he prepared his spells in the middle of the storm itself and then sent them down, anchoring them all over the platform in the chaos. The anchored spells were all trap and binding spells. The only to win this battle was to prevent his opponent from making use of his speed and this was his solution to it.

    Valerian stretched out his hand and his mace responded. It flew up from its resting spot on the side of the arena and shot right at Kalian. With his other hand, Valerian cast his favourite attack spell: [Heart Seeking Bolts]. Those nine weapons that he always carried with him. The ones that had been the doom of many a wild beast shot forward with deadly intent.

    "[Burst]!" Kalian yelled frantically.

    Just then, the pendant on his chest let out a bright light and shattered. When that took place, a massive brown energy dome appeared around him. With the sound of arrows meeting a stone wall, the heart-seeking bolts were turned away.

    'Damn it!' Valerian yelled inwardly.

    He swiftly diverted the mace's course, making it fly into his hand instead. Taking a deep breath, he gripped it with both hands and brought it down on the earthen barrier. With a resounding crash, cracks quickly spread through the barrier and it collapsed. The moment it did, Kalian rushed out at full speed, not giving Valerian the chance to dish out another attack.

    In his usual blurry motion, he made his way far away from Valerian. Unfortunately, it was not so easy to get away. In his haste, he stumbled into another anchored spell. This one flipped him into the air, dangling him there even as it bound his limbs. He screamed petulantly causing Valerian to smile as he launched [Heart Seeking Bolts] once more.

    This time, however, the distance between the two was quite a bit and Kalian with his incessant blurs managed to slip out before the spell reached him. He darted away like a fleeing hare only to stop suddenly and turn back to rush at Valerian. Drawing his sword, he began to fire beams of sword qi at him.

    Valerian rushed to block, discarding his attack and going on the defensive. This was undoubtedly what his foe wanted because once Valerian's assault stopped, his did as well. He stepped back and began clapping yet again.

    "Well done. Well done!" he spouted. "This young lord was worried there for a moment there. You are really quite good. Unfortunately, you are lacking in too many areas. If not, then you might actually give this lord a challenge."

    For a brief moment, Valerian wondered if his opponent was insane. Who did this in the midst of battle? Valerian did not have much combat experience but thus far every foe he had faced had been the type to quietly fight things out. The bandits, Blake and of course, Richard, none had been the type to have meaningless conversations in battle.

    "The way things stand now, things will surely end in my victory. You know why?" Kalian asked.

    Valerian gripped his mace tighter feeling the urge to rush up and bury its head in his foe's annoying face. Slowly, he began to build up more arcane energy, taking his time to ready his next spell. A thought occurred to him.

    "Why?" he asked Kalian. If his opponent wanted to talk so much why not give him the chance? It meant more time for him to get ready, after all.


    Truthfully speaking, Kalian wasn't an idiot. Well… he wasn't much of one. He was a combat genius. Fighting was what he knew and possibly the only thing he was accomplished at. However, he had been given special instructions for this battle. He hadn't just come to DaleGuard to win. He didn't understand the specifics but apparently, the Steelborns had begun to think too highly of themselves.

    It was his duty to show them their place. He was to crush his foes. Let them expend every effort they could muster and then reveal to them and to all those watching, the futility of going against the DriftClouds. His actual target was Ethan Steelborn, the Steelborn heir. Nonetheless, he had been given an appetizer. A younger, weaker Steelborn. One just as gifted but not as accomplished.

    This was to be his warm-up. All he had to do was reveal his superiority before the watching crowd. All he had to do was show just how more incredible he was. That was why he acted like he did. It was a task that he was aptly suited for. A battle-hungry, glory hound like him could ask for nothing better.

    Like an artist, he had been given a canvas and the chance to paint whatever he wanted so long as he got the job done. Of course, he took some liberties. Alas, things weren't going exactly as expected. That he was faster, and more powerful than his opponent was a given but this Valerian brat was a tricky one. If not for his luck and skill he would have been done in by now.

    What's worse he had been forced to use a protective talisman in the last exchange. He could sense the crowd wavering. He had to divert their attention from his opponent's achievement and back to himself. The entire objective of this battle was to come out victorious and smelling of roses whilst making his opponent look much weaker and hapless by comparison.

    So he began to speak.

    "I'm glad you asked. You see, the mistake juniors like you often make is to not listen to their seniors. Since you are such a good prospect, this young lord would take some of his precious time to give you some pointers. You want to know your first mistake?" he asked.

    Without waiting for Valerian to answer, he did so himself. "Your first mistake was entering into this tournament!"

    "It was a foolish, naïve decision. Honestly, I wonder what your clan elders were thinking entering you into this tournament. You are what … fifteen… sixteen? This young lord is twenty years old and yet this is my first Zebre. It is not because I could not win by entering earlier but because of common sense. It is always better to shore up strength first before attempting something.

    "I learnt you broke through not too long ago. And you just up and entered the Zebre? That is a decision that honestly stumped this young lord. You have some potential but doing this is a sign that you will get yourself killed early.

    "Remember that one should never pick up a stone he cannot carry. The Zebre is not a competition for weaklings like you!"


    Valerian looked on as his opponent suddenly switched over to barbed verbal attacks. Where was this coming from? Just who did this bastard think he was?

    His opponent, however, was still speaking, ignoring the dark look Valerian was giving him. He sighed and shook his head as if sad before continuing.

    "Do not think that this young lord is being unduly harsh. It is just that I fear that you would understand if I do not put it this way. Your problem here is that you think this competition is a tournament for Consolidated First Tiers."

    Valerian gave him a look as of asking, 'What in Delrien's name are you on about?'

    Kalian continued to speak, bearing in mind that it wasn't just Valerian listening to him but the entire arena. "Instead of a competition for first tiers, it should be called a competition for those not yet second tiers!"

    "I understand your confusion. The two seem to be the same but they are vastly different. Take you, for example, you have just achieved consolidation but do you know when the other competitors like this young lord did so? We have long since passed that level. That is the reason why you are so helpless before us.

    "WE are in the midst of the elemental attunement necessary to break through to the second tier. Did you not notice how easy it was for me to break through your winds spells? How easy it was for me to undo and disperse your bindings. Even that two-bit wind tellurian from your last battle could absorb your wind spells, how much less this lord?

    "I'll tell you this right now. None of your wind spells are capable of harming me. That is the difference between our two levels!"

    Valerian nearly went blank from the shock. That's because he realised that Kalian's words were true. It's not like he did not know about attunement. He just didn't have the time to think about breaking through to the next stage with the Zebre coming up. Besides, he possessed essence that had an intensity and volume that did not lose out to the average Lord.

    What did he have to fear? In his mind, his essence should be able to match up to anyone he met in the tournament but if his opponent was right then his wind attribute was useless here. Attunement strengthened the cultivator's connection to an element.

    It was like Jonas told him when he was little, if essence is like tea then attributes are the different flavours of tea. Elemental attunement took this further by enhancing the flavour until it became no different from the actual thing itself. Imagine mint tea that became like mint itself.

    It also meant that your essence would become stronger and your control over that element would grow. At lower levels, this wasn't obvious but if Kalian had really relied on this to break free and endure the wind squall then there was no way Valerian could compete with him using the wind element. The bastard would just disrupt the spells. No wonder the squall didn't harm him.

    He immediately abandoned his plan. He had been planning on layering wind cloak and wind speed in an attempt to catch up to his opponent's speed but it was better to give it up. Especially if Kalian could disrupt his spell.

    "Are you trying to say that I cannot win?" he asked keeping his voice impassive.

    "Yes! See, this young lord knew you would get it. That is absolutely right! You have no chance of making it further in this competition. If you must know, all the incompetent ones have already been eliminated. Only you are left and that's because your match is the last.

    "In fact, if not for this lord taking pity on you and wanting to play a bit, I would have ended this match a minute after it started. Surely you have seen and felt what I am capable of", Kalian said, rubbing the back of his sword for emphasis. He saw the twitch in Valerian's temple and smiled mockingly.

    "Do not feel discouraged. You are not too bad. Truthfully, you remind this lord of himself. A little weaker but still you should be fine if you go home and train for a few years. Better yet do not enter the Zebre until this young lord grows beyond the age limit. That will be in five years but you are young. You have the time.

    "Use it to improve yourself. If you need help seek this young lord out. I'll give you pointers but seriously, find someone to teach you how to fight. Your close combat skills are an eyesore".

    "What did you just say?" Valerian asked icily.

    Realising that he had hit a nerve, Kalian went for it. "This young lord meant exactly what he said. Seeing you fight made me want to scrub my eyes out. I mean, how many punches can you throw without a single one hitting anything? Your teacher must have been a wooden post. And the way you move. Dear spirits!

    "Your natural speed is not bad but there's more to speed than just running really fast you know."


    "…there's more to speed than just running really fast..."

    Those words rang in Valerian's skull. They seemed significant. "What do you mean?" he asked his voice losing its dark tone to become curious. Kalian being the windbag he was, was happy to answer.

    "What you call speed is more than just going from one point to another quickly. There's coordination, balance, spatial awareness, body control. Hmph! You can't even control your movements properly. Even if this lord explained it there's not much you can do about it. From what I know, the Steelborns don't even have a single movement technique worth a damn. But what can you expect? You were born to take beatings from others.

    "We DriftClouds are different. Our legacy is penultimate. We are born and raised to be the best. To move and leave all others in our wake. Anyway, this lord is tired of speaking. I will let you have one final attack before I finish this. Use it wisely, it might not change anything but it might let me keep my good impression of you", Kalian ended.

    However, a strange idea had crept into Valerian's mind. "Am I to take from what you said that your clan's movement skill is really that great? That you possess all these facets and that makes you the best?" he asked.

    "Are you mad, Steelborn?" Kalian exclaimed. "Do not pretend to be stupid now. There are none in the duchy that are our match in speed".

    "I see", Valerian muttered. Then he added, "Say Kalian, what do you think of making a little wager?"

    For a moment, his opponent was puzzled and then s smile came over his face, "What kind of wager?"

    "A simple one", Valerian answered. "All you have to do is avoid me until the end of the match. If your clan's skill so great then that should not be a challenge."

    "And the terms", Kalian asked.

    Valerian thought for a moment before saying, "Whoever wins the wager wins the match. However, to sweeten the pot, I am willing to undertake three tasks for you without commission."

    Kalian was confused. "What kind of tasks?"

    Valerian smiled. "It goes without saying. I am a First Circle array master of three attributes. I'm sure you know what sort of tasks I am capable of".

    Kalian's face brightened. To have an array master do three tasks for you free of charge. That was a good prize. He immediately thought of the many things he could have enchanted or the sort of talismans he could have made.

    "I want five!" he proclaimed.

    Valerian's face changed. "I am not sure you want to continue with this wager. It appears you do not know what it is you are asking. I am a First Circle Array Master of three attributes. The youngest in an age. To this day, the only people who have obtained my work are my close family members. The only other place you can obtain a sample is in the Array Masters Association itself and even that is the one I made during my examination.
    To offer you three is already beyond generous and now you want five. Do you know how many would …"

    "It is fine. I'll take the three as is", Kalian quickly said.

    He realised that he had been too greedy. To be the first person to get a commissioned work from Valerian, was already prestige enough. Valerian was bound to become more famous as time went by increasing the value of his works. The first piece of which would be in his hands.

    For his part, Valerian smiled inwardly. In truth, five wasn't much to him. However, that did not mean that he would just hand his work out. That would reduce its value.

    "When do we start?" Kalian asked eagerly.

    Valerian looked at him, taking the time to assess whether he was making the right decision. If he went through with this he would be unveiling one of his trumps. Perhaps even something he shouldn't. However, his gut told him he was making the right choice. Taking a deep breath he let the change overcome him.

    A golden outline came over his body and his hair raised upwards. His qi began to surge and his body began to change. First, spikes erupted from his shoulders, elbows, knees and heels. Then his hair turned into metallic bristles only with the central crest becoming a bright gold. His knuckles toughed becoming harder and his nails elongated. Finally, his wings emerged.

    There were not his actual wings but the watchers did not know that. All they saw was a great expulsion of qi from his shoulder which shaped itself into massive translucent golden wings. Cries of shock could be heard from all over the arena but Valerian paid them no mind.

    Hovering in the air, he stared at the man who proclaimed his clan the penultimate in speed and stated, "Let's start now!"


    Author's notes:

    I am sure that there are many of you cheering at being proved right. Feel free to. The entire purpose of this fight is to shape Valerian's character and more importantly, turn him into the speed freak he was meant to be. Having tasted it first-hand, he would crave that strength that comes with superior speed and see its usefulness. Instead of remaining the strength-based melee fighter that he has displayed so far, it will turn him into a speed demon befitting his legacy and lineage.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, Chapter 13: Scattering The Clouds
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Thirteen: Scattering The Clouds


    The judges of the Zebre were a queer sort. They were all ancient. The youngest was nearly four hundred. True, very few had beards but you don't really need a beard to be old and the other one's overly long moustache pretty much doubled as one.

    They were all powerful cultivators. The weakest was at the latter half of the Arcane King tier and the strongest… they weren't sure. There were three of them, well three at this particular Zebre. Their actual number was closer to twelve. It was an imprecise number because one of them passed away in his sleep the year before and there were a few of them who hadn't been heard from in a decade or two so twelve was about right.

    The thing that made them queer was their habits. They were all what you would call members of the senior generation who like to keep an eye on current affairs. They always wished to know what was happening in the region. The Zebre was of particular interest to them

    They loved to watch the younger generations duke it out. It reminded them of their younger years and helped them to measure each generation's strength or power. There were times when they returned to their abodes disappointed and others that they went back to their stuffy homes happy and proud that they had worthy successors.

    Truthfully, they weren't a formal order or even a single group. They were just former winners of the Zebre who had grown in both might and age. They recognised each other's leanings and shared a similar desire to keep watch over their region. Every year, a few of their number would go to some of the major centres and officiate the Zebre.

    This year they nearly fought. Everyone knew of the Steelborns' power play and everyone wanted front-row seats to the action. In the end, it was these three that won and they rushed over excited to see the events play out.
    To all who glanced at them, they seemed to be a group of serious elderly gentlemen. Watching the fights closely and ready to dispense judgement but in reality…

    "Hand me that wineskin Kanlu!" the judge at one end yelled at the one on the other.

    "No! We decided on an order. Each of us would only hold one at a time. After taking a swig we'd pass it to the next person. Pass the gourd to me first. I'll hand the skin to Burrun and he'll give you the drinking horn", the one called Kanlu said.

    Ataburrun ignored the other two, too busy stuffing his face with the meat and delicacies on the table. It's not like they weren't taking in the proceeds they were. It's just that it was always more enjoyable to have something to eat and drink when watching a show.

    Thanks to Kusko'o on his left. They had nothing to worry about. He was a great elder of the Shadowed Hood Sect and his illusion skills had no match in this county. No one would ever know. Ah, the Zebre is the best time of the year.

    In this manner, they passed through the group stages. Eating, drinking and commenting on the matches.


    Valerian of the Steelborn versus Daniel of the Greater Earth School

    "I heard of this boy. He's supposedly the youngest array master the kingdom has had in an age. I wonder if his combat skills receive such a high ranking as well", Kanlu asked.

    Kusko'o scrutinised Valerian and made his judgement, "He has dual forces. If his arcane studies have progressed as far as they say there's no way that his tellurian skills did not suffer for it. However, his energy levels are incredibly high. I wonder what the Steelborns have been feeding this kid".

    When Valerian's match came to a close, they opened discussions once more. "His opponent was trash. What kind of idiot goes charging in without looking where he is going? Remind me to chastise Boulder head about the quality of his disciples", Kanlu stated

    "I'm disappointed in the finish as well but his opponent was just going to win anyway. To have the foresight and control to anchor a spell in the chaos whilst casting multiples of a different spell. He truly is gifted", Kusko'o concluded.

    Their approach was the same for the other matches.


    Tirenael of the Fire Sage School versus Charles of the Northslopes

    "I can't believe the Fire Sage School actually allow the practice of such a technique", Kusko'o tutted.

    "Oh shut up! You only say that because you wish your sect had it", Attaburrun refuted.

    "There is a good reason why it is my sect that practices those kinds of techniques. We have history with them. We know how to both control and cultivate them. That art will twist that boy, mark my words", Kusko'o explained.

    "Are you saying that the people from your Shadowed Hood Sect are not twisted?" Kanlu inquired.

    Kusko'o wisely chose not to answer that question.


    Ethan of the Steelborn versus Blaine of the Swiftdeer

    "So this the Steelborn heir, how mighty!" Kanlu exclaimed.

    "He truly is. I ask again, what are they feeding their kids? This one might not possess the fine control that the other one has but his combat experience and natural strength. I dare say none of the competitors is his match", Kusko'o announced.

    "He is peculiar. He never transforms his whole body. Just his right arm. Is that really all he needs or is there another reason?" Attaburrun ventured.


    Valerian of the Steelborns versus Kalian of the DriftClouds.

    "Is this what the DriftClouds have been reduced to? No wonder they are losing so much to the new powers. Pah! If he was my descendant, I'd spank him till he can't sit down!" Kanlu yelled.

    "He is quite skilled though. His movements are extremely fluid and I think he has touched on the second of the [Wind Borne Cloud]'s three levels. To do so at such a young age requires incredible talent and perception", Kusko'o stated.

    "I'm more impressed by the Steelboy", Attaburrun proclaimed. "It appears we are now seeing the depths of his planning. I like the way he is able to keep his cool and plan so many steps ahead.

    A few minutes later

    "See what I meant? He has a talent for layering plans, the mark of a good strategist. That is what you call a true genius. It is clear how he has amassed so many accomplishments in his meagre years. It's a pity though…"

    Attaburrun lamented. "If he is unable to come up with something that changes the…." His words were quickly forgotten when Valerian transformed in front of them.

    "Since when could Steelborns do that?" Kanlu inquired loudly.

    "Shhh!" Kusko'o shushed him, waving at everyone to be quiet. The tables had changed unexpectedly. Not even they had predicted what just happened. It seemed this would be the most interesting fight thus far.


    Valerian looked at his stunned opponent. "Did you not hear me? We start now!"

    "But you…ou! How?" Kalian stammered in shock.

    "Forget the how!" Valerian told him. "Think on the bet and get ready because I'm attacking, NOW!"

    With that final cry, Valerian's ephemeral wings beat once, sending him forward. His qi surged, circulating happily whiles his heart whopped at the feeling. He wasn't running anymore. His feet barely skimmed the ground and yet he was moving faster than he ever had.

    The idea came to him as he listened to Kalian speak about his clan and how they were born to be the best and the fastest. How their legacy technique made them invincible. It made him think of his family. True, the Steelborns weren't fast people which was why they had so many blocking and deflecting skills. Unfortunately, those were all tellurian skills.

    Until recently, Valerian knew none of those. Now, he had four under his belt and none of them would help with his current situation. Their family produced very few arcanists. Most of these became support forces, healers, craftsmen, warders, etc. Those who became warriors often followed their own path. There were no arts like those of Harry and Clude to guide them.

    This was a failing on their part and a failing on Valerian's. He wasn't comfortable being the kind of arcanist who hid behind shields and cast spells, never moving around. He also wasn't one of those big muscly Steelborn tellurians like his uncle. His build was purely offensive, speed and attack, not attack and defence like the rest of his clan.

    So he did what felt best. He'd run forward when he saw an opening using his superior speed. He'd bludgeon through things with his strength when need be and he'd cast whatever spells were appropriate in the situation. At least that's what he did until he heard what Kalian said.

    "…there's more to speed than just running really fast."

    A lamp lit in his head. The bastard was right. He knew how to attack, how to defend, he knew how to cast spells and create arrays but he did not know how to move. Steelborns didn't dodge, they didn't run around. They deflected hits until they found an opening and then, they countered. They didn't go fast. They advanced steadily. In his heart, somehow, Valerian knew that just wasn't for him.

    It was Kalian who let him understand that. In claiming his family was born and raised to be the best at speed he reminded Valerian that he could say same for his family. Not the Steelborns! The Golden Winged Pengs. His ancestor was the fastest of all the divine birds and he had inherited that blood legacy. If that wasn't being born to speed, what was?

    There was one problem though. Unlike the DriftClouds, he had no legacy technique to use. If only his mother or even the Peng himself had left him some way to make use of his abilities. Then Valerian remembered the dreams he had had in the egg. The memories of the Peng. He remembered what his grandmother had told him about high-class daemons and how they left hereditary memories to their descendants containing techniques and cultivation experiences.

    That was where the answer was, inside the memories the Peng had left him. Valerian didn't know it for sure but his instinct told him he was correct. The secret to all his abilities could be found in there but how to access it? That was when an idea crept into his mind and he issued the bet.

    All techniques are built on concepts. Even the [Wind Borne Cloud] was built on the concept of a cloud drifting through the sky. The vast majority of techniques, however, were built on concepts gained from observing daemons. That's why there were so many techniques that bore the names of daemons. Even the Steelborns had their [Monolithic Arts].

    What Valerian needed was this same concept. This was why as he flew towards Kalian, he closed his eyes, relying on his enhanced senses to guide him towards his quarry. He submerged himself in his subconscious seeking any and all memories he could of the Peng in flight. He would express these concepts and in doing so embody it and its principles. That way when he moved he would be the same. A peng in flight.

    But to do that would require training and practice. To do that would require a training dummy. Lucky for him, a dummy had volunteered.


    Kalian stumbled backwards in shock. Initially, when he heard the wager he had laughed inwardly feeling as if he had succeeded in pushing his opponent into a corner so desperate that he just dug himself deeper without realising it.

    In his head, he had everything to gain and nothing to lose that's why he had agreed. When he saw the Steelborn begin transforming he could barely hold back from laughing out loud. Everyone knew what the Steelborn transformation did. The brat must really be desperate to resort to it.

    The Steel Monolith Transformation did increase speed but only by a small margin of fifteen per cent. The growth in size and weight actually made them less agile and dextrous than they would be in their normal forms. The best they could do was charge.

    However, the laughter in his heart died out when he realised that his opponent wasn't growing any larger. Trepidation tried to crawl in but he held it off and then the wings appeared. Immediately, he felt some foreboding but what came next was what truly frightened him.

    The winged…thing in front of him shot towards him. The speed it moved at was nearly twice what Valerian had displayed before. He took a few shaky steps backwards in shock. Those few instances were enough for Valerian to appear in front of him. Letting out a shriek, he turned around and shot off, the winged Steelborn following.

    Kalian didn't know how nor did he know when but he had the feeling that he had made a big mistake.


    "So that's it huh?" William asked his brother. "Just the first form and it is already this impressive. Divine legacies really live up to reputation".

    Wordlessly, his family members nodded. No words were needed. The results spoke for themselves. That burst of speed Valerian put on after transforming carried so much force that it disturbed the air around him and stirred up the dust and sand of the platform floor. The effects on his speed had been seen by all. His speed had gone up tremendously and all he did was flap his wings once!

    "Lord Cragsveil!" came a soft call.

    Thus far the Steelborns had been chatting amongst themselves using the enchantments provided in the seating to mask their words. This was the Lords' Booth after all. There were many discussions going on, many of which their speakers could not afford to be heard. In truth, no noble would feel comfortable speaking if he or she knew it could be overheard.

    Still, everyone took precautions. The more paranoid ones and the ones with important things to hide took three. Nonetheless, though the seats could mask conversations they also allowed their occupants to send messages to people in other seats. That was how the Viscount had been contacted.

    Checking, he discovered his caller to be none other than the count himself. It was to be expected but he hadn't figured it would be this soon. However, he had no choice but to answer.
    "Is there anything I can help you with milord?" he answered.

    "I am merely curious William. I was not aware that your clan had such a transformation. It is quite new and strange in my eyes and I confess to being at a loss. Could you tell me about it?" came Count DriftCloud's gravelly voice.

    "This servant begs your indulgence milord but could I plead with my lord to wait on that? There is to be an official city-wide announcement on this and other related matters on the first day of the finals two days from now. I fear that letting the cat out of the bag too soon might spoil the surprise. I can promise you that all the answers you seek will be given then", William replied.

    "Hmm", the Count intoned, somewhat displeased. "Very well, this lord will wait till then".


    Meanwhile,

    The crowds, lords and judges watched the chase before them. A blur raced about the stage, twisting, turning and leaping. Basically, it was doing all it could to stay out of reach of the winged figure behind him.

    Once he got over his initial shock, Kalian and all the spectators realised that he still held the advantage in the battle. His opponent was fast, sure but he was clearly inexperienced at high-paced battles and possessed far less skill and agility when compared to himself.

    Valerian did not turn as well, stop as easily, change directions quickly without issues or perform other actions with any proper finesse. His linear speed was outstanding though. He moved from one spot to another so fast all you saw was a hint of gold and the rushing winds. Kalian recognised this fact and did his best to rob Valerian of that advantage.

    He would not move even five metres without changing direction, sidestepping or straight out leaping into the air in that strange featherweight motion of his. That was the only thing that was making the chase last this long. Little did he know, he was playing right into Valerian's hand. At this juncture, Valerian did not care whether he won the wager or not, in fact, he never did.

    The whole thing was a test to see if he was instinct was right and it was! Even if he lost the wager, he'd gain tremendously more. Right then, whilst everyone saw a chase, he was busy, his mind elsewhere, buried in his inherited memories.

    He was the peng and the peng was him! Flying in the skies. Skimming the clouds. Soaring over the oceans and the lands. Peering down at mountains. Fighting other sky lords. Hunting down dragons. That was all that filled his mind.

    Gifted watchers began to murmur amongst themselves, all of them noticing one thing. Valerian was getting better! Getting faster! He no longer took as long to recover after a turn. He did not disturb the air as much when he passed through it. His form was growing even more streamlined and his flying technique was improving, reducing the wind drag and clumsy movements.

    He followed his adversary, the gap between them growing ever smaller. Kalian noticed this as well and panicked. He began to let out afterimages. Each of them raced in different directions in an attempt to distract Valerian. It did not work. He had no idea Valerian had seen through this move from the first time he used it. He continued to chase him remaining barely a metre away.

    Nevertheless, there was something he was missing. Valerian could feel it. His movements were getting better and with practice, they could become perfect despite this there was something crucial he lacked. The essence of the concept he was trying to comprehend was lacking something.

    As he chased down his prey, Valerian pondered on it, mulling over it. Ironically, it was Kalian who provided him with the answer. Valerian had long since noticed the minute amounts of qi Kalian released into his surroundings. It was part of his technique. The source of his blurring. However, it also did more than that only Valerian couldn't figure it out.

    That was then. Now, in his current state, Valerian's condition was greatly boosted. Even more importantly, his essence was strengthened and increased allowing him to see what he had missed before. This led to an epiphany.

    The wind!

    That was what he lacked. That was the true purpose of the qi Kalian released. It acted like an access code, telling the surrounding air and winds to let him through. That was why he disturbed so little in his parting. Why he wasn't hindered as much and why he weighed so little. By modifying this qi release he would receive less wind resistance and even get the wind to aid him where favourable.

    Understanding this let Valerian also understand what he was missing. The Golden Winged Peng was a bird. A Monarch of the Heavens. A Sovereign of the winds. That was what he had failed to add in his conceptualization. He copied the movements, the feelings the core essence and left out the supplementary one. He corrected this immediately and one-upped Kalian.

    In truth, he one-upped all the DriftClouds, Lytaun practitioners and all the other speed-based wind cultivators in the county. He did not use a special technique, qi flow, spell or method to gain the assistance of the wind. He just commanded it. He was the descendant of the Golden Winged Peng, a divine sky lord. It was his right.

    Like a loyal dog summoned by his master, the wind obeyed. It did so happily and joyfully. It responded, wrapping him up in its embrace. Not only did it assist his movements, it buoyed him up and helped him along. At that moment, Valerian felt invincible. More than that, he felt vindicated. He had been right. His instincts did not lead him wrong.

    He could feel his connection to the wind like it had always been there and in a way it always had. The feeling was akin to what he felt in his true form only more subdued. He could tell he had succeeded. He had comprehended the basics of the peng's unique flight technique.

    [Soaring through the Heavens] his mind supplied. The technique was called [Soaring through the Heavens].

    He came to a stop, surprising everyone. His aim had been achieved. The wager had no purpose. Kalian stopped as well, watching him warily.

    "We'll end the wager here!" Valerian announced. "You are no longer of use to me".

    Kalian was relieved at first and then something clicked in his head and he became indignant. "What are you talking about? Are you trying to renege on our bet?"

    Valerian looked at him and then started laughing. "Far from it. It is just that the results had become a forgone conclusion. I did not want it to end that way so I am changing the rules to give you a chance".

    Kalian was confused. "What is your meaning?" he asked.

    Valerian waved dismissively, "Enough! This lord is tired of speaking. I will let you have one final attack before I finish this. Use it wisely, it might not change anything but it might let me keep my good impression of you".

    Kalian's face immediately coloured he recognised those words as his own only they were being thrown against his face. "You…are you mocking me?"

    Valerian ignored him, pondering instead on the satisfaction he was gaining from his current action. 'Is this why he does it?' he asked himself. Outwardly though, he called out imperiously, "Hurry up! Don't waste my time!"

    "You…!" Kalian ground out darkly. Then, without any warning, he moved. He had never been so insulted. Fine! If the idiot wanted him to attack, he would. He'd make him regret it.

    He blurred forward and split into seven copies of himself. This was the maximum number he could create and sustain at any time. Together, the many DriftClouds circled Valerian. They crisscrossed each other in their movement, moving in such a myriad pattern it caused some of the spectators to become dizzy. Then their swords started glowing.

    Valerian watched impassively as the many images clouded his vision. This time he had not even bothered to track the original. They run around him till all he could see were blurs. Even so, he felt Kalian's qi begin to build obviously in preparation for a skill.

    He closed his eyes thinking back to what he had experienced. The flying peng memories he had reviewed held more than just flying. Without meaning to, he had gleaned some insight from them. Now, he would check it out.
    The many Kalians drew closer the swords in their hands beginning their swings at Valerian. Still, Valerian ignored them. His mind was focused on the image of the Peng taking off and rising into the sky. Nothing can hinder the peng's flight. Not even the clouds, especially not the clouds.

    The peng in his memories reached the cloud layer and saw them in front of it. It flapped its wings and the wind responded blowing them away and leaving its master's path clear. Out in the real world, the many DriftClouds had launched their attack.

    Valerian's incorporeal wings flapped once. '[Scattering the Clouds]' he intoned mentally. In response, a strange pulse left his body dispersing all of Kalian's afterimages and flinging him far away. Valerian opened his eyes in time to catch his opponent coughing up blood.

    He smiled and raised his right arm intoning the name of another technique he picked up. This one from the memory of the peng hunting a dragon. His qi surged, collecting in his arm it flowed outwards through his pores and covered it. Before his eyes, it shaped itself around it forming massive birdlike talons over his fingers.

    [Rending Talons]

    Watching from the side, Avery was startled. He was the only one who recognised that phantom limb. It was the same one that Valerian had used to tear apart the Steel Scaled Wyrm a month ago.

    Valerian took off again, in pursuit of his prey. Kalian tried to run away but this time Valerian was the one circling him. Then, a naughty thought came into his mind causing him to smile. Preparing the arcane energy necessary, he cast a spell.

    Kalian was frantically waving his sword, firing off beams of sword qi at the winged figure circling him. Valerian quit circling and rushed straight at him. Kalian didn't hesitate. With a cry of anger and fear, he unleashed his sword skill infusing it with as much qi as he could. His heart filled with hope as it sailed at Valerian who did nothing to block it.

    Then it sank as he saw the skill pass right through his winged opponent. Instantly, he knew he had been had. Regrettably, it was too late to do anything about it. The real Valerian was right behind him, having approached him leisurely under the cloaking of his illusion spell.

    He stuck his talons into Kalian's back. Not too deep, just enough to leave flesh wounds and then with a flourish he swept past his opponent leaving a diagonal trail of gashes from the top of his right shoulder to his hip bone. To show that he could have severed his spine if he wanted.

    Then leaping backwards he cancelled [Mirage], the wind spell he had cast over their surroundings. The judge, having seen everything, called it.

    The match was over!
    Author's Note:

    Hurray! The fight is over. Here are some translations for the names in this chapter.
    • "Kanlu" means "will not fall" or "will not be brought down"
    • "Attaburrun" means "He who is patient" or "One with great calm"
    • "Kusko'o" is a bit more complex. "Kus" is from our word for wind and "ko'o" is water. Contextually it means "Wet wind". I shortened the much longer phrase for the name. It would have been "ko'o Kuseoko", "water bearing wind", "moisture laden wind" or more literally "Water wind" completely different from "Sa'ar Kuseoko", "rain bearing wind".
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 14: Steelborn Affairs
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Fourteen: Steelborn Affairs


    The finals were to begin. The Zebre was nearing its end. Every category had completed its group stages and now all that was left was to discover the true winners. The best combatants and their respective rankings. The day before the runner-ups from the various groups had met for a final clash to determine the fifth seats. As for the rest, they'd remain unranked.

    That's just how things were. No one cared about the others. They were the ones who had failed to cut it. Instead, they focused on the upcoming matches. You'd find that everyone, from those on the streets to the ones in the bars and taverns, was debating on the competitors and their strengths, weaknesses, chances and possible matchups. That was the only topic people were concerned about at the moment.

    As a matter of fact, it would appear that the battles this year nearly completely outshone the rest of the festivities. Yes, the battles were the main part of the festival but that had never been made so clear, at least in recent memory.

    It was customary to use the Zebre as an excuse for partying, drinking, noise making, equipment sales, hosting fairs, auctions and having unofficial underground duels but this year … The main battles held all the attention. The betting houses were making a killing and the proceeds from this festival's arena ticket sales so far was more than the last five combined.

    Many famous loose cultivators, mercenaries and warriors were taking part this year, drawn in by the incredible prizes and fame that winning this particular Zebre would bring. As for the Young Lords' Tourney, that was shaping up to be one of the most stimulating tournaments of them all. This year's quality had been far above the previous ones and the battles, twists and turns had made for the most enjoyable watching.

    Due in part to the profiles of the competitors and the forces they represented, everyone, especially those sensitive to the shifting winds knew it was a must-watch. These were the viscounty's best and brightest. Their future!
    As result, the competitors garnered massive followings as their fans and their backers drew more attention to them.

    It wasn't uncommon to find people fighting because of an argument about who was better or who would win. Nor was it uncommon to see people lining up and registering to join the forces who had clearly proved themselves the best in the region. The Fire Sage School, for example, being the only great school to reach the finals, received an unprecedented number of pledges and sign-ups this year.

    As for the other schools, they were largely ignored and when it came to ones that hadn't even participated. Everyone looked down on them, calling them cowards. It was clear that the reason they didn't participate this year was because they feared not making the cut. Many considered this worse than actually taking part and losing.

    All in all, the Zebre had not only called up the people and aroused their fighting spirit. It began to polarise them. People began to take sides, professing their support for this party or the other. It couldn't be helped. It was human nature to follow the strong and the promising. However, the majority waited wishing to see the true winner before making their decision.

    Perhaps, it was because of this us versus them mentality that began to crop up that made the first matchup so surprising. At first, it nearly caused some division but under the guidance of certain people in the shadows, it created excitement instead as people began to look forward to it.

    This matchup: Ethan of the Steelborn versus Valerian of the Steelborn.


    Valerian stood on the stage in his polished armour. In truth, he had maintained the same look he had at the beginning of the tournament. Nonetheless, he appeared different. His looks might not have changed but his presence sure did. The light in his eyes had grown harder. His stance was more prepared and his face whilst still nonchalant showed his readiness.

    He put forth a subtle pressure now. The same kind that experts put out, only weaker. Valerian had begun "eating blades" as some put it. The exposure to battle he had experienced over the last few days was transforming him. Valerian had always been cast from steel, now he was being annealed.

    Across from him was one of his cousins, the Steelborn heir as a matter of fact. If nothing went wrong, he would inherit first the position of clan leader and then that of Viscount and finally that of Patriarch. Looking at him now though, all you could see was a young man. A very tall and fit young man.

    He was two point two metres tall with a muscle-bound frame that made him look like he bench-pressed buildings. His entire form was clad in Steelborn plate, only his was of a darker material than Valerian's, adorned with gold filigree and possessed much more ornate pauldrons. His hair was dark and matched his armour quite well.

    The two stood there looking at each other. Their battle should have started by now but they were forced to wait. The Viscount was supposed to make an announcement. He was the one they were waiting on now. The entire arena was bristling, they understood that whatever their lord had to say was probably important, however, they did not want to delay the battle or its resulting gratification.

    Eventually, though, he stood, walking to the very front of the Lords' Booth. He was flanked by one of the city's highest officials and a Steelborn Grand Elder. Once he stepped forward, all noise and grumbling fell away when as one, the people turned to face him, ears open to what he had to say.

    "People of DaleGuard, People of Cragsveil, People of the Plains! I come before you not only as your lord but also as a bearer of good news. It has been nearly one hundred and ninety-nine years since you opened yourselves up to my clan and accepted us as your rulers.

    "In that time, we have overcome tribulations and accomplished more feats than many would deem possible. With the exception of the seniors, many of you might not see it but Cragsveil has changed over the years. We have grown stronger! We have grown populous! We have grown prosperous! Clearly, the Heavens look favourably on us and the Earth bestows us with blessings", he said.

    Lowering his pitch and causing his voice to become more solemn, he continued, "For this, I come before you, a representative of my entire house and blood to say thank you." "THANK YOU GREAT PEOPLE OF CRAGSVEIL!" he yelled emphatically.

    "We say thank you for these things for many point to us as the instruments of this change. In fact, the King is preparing to reward us for it but we know the truth. This is a transformation that came by your hands. That you worked for with your strength. That you have put sweat and blood into.

    "Look around people of Cragsveil at the many changes that have been instituted over the years and know that you are their root cause. This is a change you worked at and you deserve glory and honour and praise. It is you who welcomed my clan into your arms. It was you who rallied behind my father to fight for your freedom and survival. It was you that granted us your fealty and the title we now hold.

    "Even these many beneficial changes that the viscounty has gone through were the result of your trust and your own hard work. We may have led but that would have accomplished nothing if you hadn't followed. We might have worked but would have all come to nought if you did not support us. Thus again, we say thank you!"

    Here, The Viscount bowed to the surprise and admiration of many. It was a deep bow. One that communicated respect and gratitude. It was also not one-directional. Keeping his head down, the Viscount made sure to move such that his torso made a complete three-sixty-degree turn such that he appeared to bow to all the people in the arena.

    The podium where he stood was completely exposed and had a clear line of sight to any part of the arena seating. Thus, everyone could see his actions. They were already trying to recover and understand the things he said to them. Seeing him bow let them understand how serious he was. Many in the Lords' Booth cursed but it was hard not to be moved by his actions.

    Raising his head to address his people, the Viscount continued, "I would like to make an oath, here and now. Before all of you and under the auspices of the Heavens and the Earth. I, William, Surnamed Steelborn, Head of all who bear that name vow that so long as you people have need of us. So long as you continue to support us and accept us, we the Steelborn clan. No… we the House of Cragsveil will continue to do our best for you and with you. This we swear!"

    Unbidden, every Steelborn in the arena including Valerian, Ethan and the other members of the Magistrate's household rose to their feet and repeated unanimously. "THIS WE SWEAR!"

    It made for an impressive image, dozens of people scattered around the arena standing up and yelling out in such a resolute manner and at the same time. Even Valerian had to confess that it looked planned. However, he hadn't even known that the Viscount was going to make such a speech. Judging from his reactions, Ethan didn't either and yet they hadn't needed to be told.

    They just supported him unflinchingly and instinctively. It was probably the same for many of the others. Their actions though matching would be seen through by anyone with enough experience just like they would have if they had rehearsed beforehand. This way though, it seemed truer and was more convincing.

    He looked at the Clan Head still standing at the podium, looking out at his people. 'Did he know we'd respond that way?' Valerian asked no one in particular. The man began speaking again.

    "This is an oath we'll keep for eternity!" in response to his words, a change occurred in the surrounding world essence. Even the non-cultivators noticed. It felt like a tremor but nothing actually moved. Like a rumble in the sky but without thunder, lightning or clouds. The oath had been accepted by Verre itself. Unable to help themselves, the spectators began to murmur.

    However, the Viscount continued speaking, causing silence to fall once more and everyone to hang on to his words. "The Heavens and the Earth have acknowledged our oath and I can assure you that we will keep it!"

    Then his face broke into smiles, "Additionally, I have more good news for you. I am here to announce that the Steelborn Clan, has grown stronger and will continue to do so. For years, generations now, we have been your protectors and perhaps in recognition of our efforts, the spirits have rewarded us that we might continue this task.

    "Our two blood legacies the Steel Monolith Transformation and The StormHawk's Wings have begun to merge!"

    Despite themselves, the crowds nearly went into a clamour. This was getting more fantastical by the second. The Steelborn blood legacies were merging? What did that even mean?'

    The Viscount answered them. "Yes! Our very power grows with each generation. We are unsure what this holds in store for us but we can tell you something. It has strengthened our abilities and given us new ones. In fact, let me introduce to you two of the holders of this combined legacy…"

    With that, he turned and held his hand out, pointing at none other than the two individuals on the stage. Valerian suddenly found himself the centre of attention as people began to whisper to each other musing over whether that was what he revealed in his last match.

    Feeling put on the spot he glanced back at the Viscount. Even with the distance between them, he could make out the expectant look on the man's face. Realising that it could not be helped, Valerian gave a sigh of resignation and transformed. The now familiar gold outline came over his body and began to change it. Beside him, a similar transformation was occurring.

    Ethan looked at his grandfather, snorting inwardly as the man fed his audience with a lie. What merged legacies? He didn't know about Valerian's circumstances but he would go out on a limb and say that it didn't hold true for him as well. That excuse was originally crafted for Ethan's use after all.

    As a toddler, he had been taken before the clan's guardian spirit for a blessing, as was his right as heir. Unfortunately, things went awry. Instead of obtaining a blessing, he suffered miserably and then underwent a mutation. Not knowing what to do the Grand Elders looked at his new form and came up with a cover story about "merged legacies".

    The two changed in front of their audience. A gold aura around Valerian and a grey one around Ethan. Spikes erupted from their joints and their hair turned into metallic bristles. That was where the similarities ended. Massive translucent wings unfurled themselves from Valerian's back. In Ethan's case, feathers began to sprout on his body.

    They popped out of the back of his forearms rising through the bracers of his adaptive armour and the top of his skull. The ones on top of his head were straight and long. Being just as dark and metallic as his hair, they stuck out, creating a magnificent plume. Massive steel talons grew from his finger and toenails and most shocking of all, his face scrunched itself.

    All of his facial features blended together and instead, a wicked-looking beak shot out of his face. It was curved like that of a hawk and made of glistening steel. His eyes changed as well. His iris grew much larger, dominating most of his eye and becoming a dark yellow whilst his pupils remained dark and foreboding. Nostril slits appeared on his beak whiles his ears melded into the side of his head.

    Valerian looked at his cousin, suddenly feeling like he had bitten off more than he could chew. The spectators felt the same as well. They had come expecting a showdown between Steelborns but right now there wasn't a single person who thought that this would be a fair matchup.

    Ignore his opponent's age, experience and even the massive curved beak and talons that looked ready to tear flesh from bone or even the many sharp, metallic feathers that added to his menacing appearance. Ethan was three times Valerian's size!

    Unlike Valerian who never changed size when transforming, Ethan was a normal Steelborn….mostly. This meant that his transformation changed him from a two-point two-metre-tall giant to a four and a half metre monstrosity. Combined with his heavy steel armour and massive talons, the scene on the fighting platform had become comical. This was the great and anticipated matchup?

    A Golden Sparrow versus a Great Taloned Ostrich! That's what this was.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 15: The Exhibition
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, Chapter 15: The Exhibition


    Ignoring the reactions of the crowd, the Viscount began to speak again. "What you see before you is a sign of new growth. Thus far, the changes have been varied and without a set form, making it clear that this is just the beginning and that there's more to come.

    "Despite our efforts, none of us have been able to predict where the changes would lead but it should be obvious that once it stabilises we would have something even greater and more unique. We couldn't be more grateful. It has been a long time coming."

    The audience looked at their Viscount trying and failing to understand what was going on. Many of them had never ever seen the [StormHawk's Wings]. Not surprising. It was a legacy only available to a select few Steelborns. Even then, it only showed up amongst the arcanists. Given that only one of every eight Steelborn cultivators was an arcanist, the chances of it showing up were very low.

    The entire Steelborn clan numbered ninety-six individuals. Of these, only seven had access to the [StormHawk's Wings]. This brought up a lot of questions. If the trait was so recessive how was it able to contend and merge with the dominant Steelborn legacy? As if reading their minds, the viscount quickly answered this unspoken question.

    "There is only one thing that is responsible for all this. The Steelborn StormHawk! People of Cragsveil, there is no denying it. As a matter of fact, you have seen the signs and many of you even know outright. Our Guardian spirit has grown more powerful.

    "This is what allows it and its legacy to more easily express itself in our line. However, we are not the only ones benefiting from this. Yes, many of you forget but the Stormhawk isn't just the spirit of the Steelborns but also the Spirit of Cragsveil's lords. A guardian spirit's domain encapsulates not only those it is bound to but also those who are bound in turn to its people.

    "This means that just as our clan grows so too does our spirit and just as the land grows, so too does its spirit. I can see many of you are confused but at the same time, I can see that many of you have had an epiphany. To those people, I will confirm that YES! That is why StormHawk answers your prayers.

    "As you do fealty to me, you do as well to the StormHawk!" he yelled.

    "You might not accept this but ask yourselves. When was the last time pestilence blighted our lands? When was the last time the storms of the Wildlands spread destruction amongst us? When was the last time that the rains failed to come when needed? When was the last time that our troops were not victorious in battle?

    "That is because the StormHawk watches over these lands. Providing it with power and reason for doing so is precisely those amongst you who go the extra mile. You that directly worship and offer sacrifice to our spirit. This grants the StormHawk more power and in turn, makes it looks to you like he would any one of its blood. That's why he answers your prayers and bestows you with blessings. In truth, just this Zebre, a few families of devout followers had their children blessed by the StormHawk right in this very arena.

    "That is why I have come out to confirm to you that indeed the StormHawk is not just the Guardian Spirit of the Steelborns but Also the Guardian of the House of Cragsveil and the Guardian of Cragsveil itself. Every day when I pass by the StormHawk shrine and see worshippers I feel my heart lift. I am glad that there are people who see its wonders and goodness. I come to you to tell you that your every prayer, your every sacrifice is remembered. The StormHawk rewards the faithful and in fact, I have been licensed by the StormHawk itself to inform you that you are permitted to build shrines in your homes and your communities so that you might more easily reach out to it and it, to you. You will be able to…" Here the viscount paused as if unable to continue and sighed.

    "I would tell you more my dear people of Cragsveil but I am afraid I must end here so that the Zebre can continue. Any who wish to know more may visit the StormHawk shrine. The priests there will answer all your questions. LONG LIFE AND PROSPERITY TO THE HOUSE OF CRAGSVEIL, LONG LIFE AND PROSPERITY TO THE STEELBORN STORMHAWK AND LONG LIFE AND PROSPERITY TO CRAGSVEIL! Thank you!"

    With that abrupt end, the Viscount left his podium and walked back to the Lords' Booth. The arena was filled with murmuring as people quickly began to discuss the announcement. Others looked pensive as they strove to digest what they had heard. There were just too many issues and unfortunately, the Viscount had ended without fully explaining them all leaving them hanging.

    As he walked back to the booth William smiled mentally. The Steelborn agenda was proceeding as planned. Next, they would have agents spread the news all over the viscounty. Then, they'd prepare for the aftermath.
    The situation in the Lords' Booth was completely different. Dorian Veldt felt like hanging himself. He was not the only one. The assembled nobles had come expecting the Steelborns to make a power play using their might but now they realised that that was barely a third of the ploy. The most worrying part. The smart ones among them could tell.

    The Steelborns were looking to set their spirit up as the official patron of the entire viscounty. Where that would lead they weren't sure but it was clear that if they succeeded, their power would grow exponentially. What's more, they would have the people completely under their thumbs. Discreet transmissions began to be made and plans began to be drawn up.


    So, how do we do this?" Ethan asked him.

    Valerian looked upwards, the only way he could stare his cousin in the face and gave his answer. "I think we should just go at it. Make it an exhibition of a sort."

    Their fight had completely lost its lustre. Their audience had not even noticed that it had commenced. So engrossed were they in discussing the Viscount's announcement. Neither youth held it against them though they'd probably be thinking of it too if they didn't have a battle ahead of them.

    Ethan considered Valerian's proposal and said. "That is okay. You start."

    Rather than being insulted at being given the first strike, Valerian merely got into a stance and took off. He went at his cousin at full speed, swinging his mace at his face. A sharp clang of struck metal rang through the air as Valerian found his mace blocked by the back of his cousin's gauntleted forearm.

    Valerian was impressed. Steelborns might not be very quick on their feet but they did not lack speedy reflexes nor were their attack speeds anything to scoff at. Mindful of this Valerian hastily created a cushion of wind between himself and his opponent. It was a good call considering his foe's counterstrike was a massive fist bigger than his head.

    Ethan struck the air cushion with a dull whump, and Valerian borrowed that force to leap backwards. He remained in the air, hovering half a metre off the stage floor and examining his opponent. This would be his first fight against another clan member his age and he wanted to make the most of it.

    Truth be told, he had expected the attack to be deflected in some manner. Clude's principles dictated so. However, Ethan had chosen to block instead, robbing him of his momentum and stopping him long enough for him to strike back. Clearly, his cousin had had experience fighting against people faster than himself.

    The whole thing made Valerian excited. He had diligently practised the family fighting style every day since his awakening. Even though he had only now begun working on the tellurian techniques, he believed that his actual combat form was not to be discounted. Richard and Elder Foreson often complimented him on it after all.

    Nevertheless, he would not claim he was experienced at using it in actual combat. Before now, his qi cultivation had been woefully lacking and he was forced to rely on his arcane techniques in every circumstance that called for combat. Even his standing in the Zebre was the same. With the exception of his battle against Kalian, he had relied on his spells for everything.

    Right now, he couldn't help but be filled with the desire to test out his actual fighting form. He planted his feet in the air as if he was on solid ground and then tightened his grip on his mace, filling it with his qi. It responded to his surging fighting spirit, its head glowing gold from the infusion of metal attributed qi. Then, with a savage grin on his face, he called on the wind and stepped forward.

    His wings beat, flashing him forward so he could slam his mace's glowing head into his cousin's ribs. Ethan reacted swiftly, sending a palm strike his way to slap him away. Valerian's grin grew. He changed targets, choosing instead to smash his mace into Ethan's wrist. The offending hand was harshly struck away causing its owner to yelp in pain.

    Valerian did not stop. He turned on the wind, becoming a golden streak that shot behind Ethan, his mace swinging towards the back of his head. It never made it there. A massive sword appeared in his path to obstruct him. Valerian nearly crashed into its handle. Retreating quickly, he examined it.

    It was a greatsword, if you could even call it that. It was about four metres long and in the style of a two-handed claymore. The blade was about thirty centimetres thick and double-edged. Despite its great thickness, it appeared quite slender due to its great length. All it had done was to materialise on its master's back, hanging there as if in an invisible baldric and yet it had sent Valerian fleeing.

    Valerian looked at the sword in alarm. Not because of its size but due to its aura. As a metal attributed cultivator, he could clearly sense its power and characteristics and they were more than enough to fill him with dread. As he stood there trying to think of a new approach, Ethan spun around to face him. He was no longer smiling.

    His face was set in a serious expression and his left hand was clutched in his right. His wrist was fine. A little sore but fine. His own durability and that of his armour were the only reasons the bones in it had not been crushed. Leaving it alone, he reached his right hand behind his head and grasped his sword's handle. Immediately, his aura changed.

    He was no longer the friendly-looking Ethan he had been before. His aura and that of his sword began to blend together becoming dark, cold and above all sharp. His eyes never left Valerian giving him the feeling that his gaze was cutting through the air to get at him. Spreading his feet, he held the massive claymore in front of him and grasped it with both hands much like Valerian had done with his mace. Done, he opened his mouth and the voice that came out was nearly unrecognisable.

    "Come again!" he said to Valerian.

    Despite the invitation, Valerian found himself reluctant to go forward. Ethan's tone had been daring but it was also dangerous and dark. Plus, he had the feeling that he was now looking at the real Ethan Steelborn. Like a veneer had been cast off so he could see the true material. He shook himself, realising that his opponent's aura was getting to him.

    Still, he took the time to check on his shields before he rushed forward again. This time the metallic ringing from their clash was even stronger. Valerian found himself straining against his opponent. Their weapons were locked together between them with each side pushing at the other. It was a strange sight, seeing Valerian's small form pushing against the gigantic form of his cousin. For a moment they looked to be equal in strength. However, Ethan was only using one hand!

    The other shot at Valerian in a cruel left hook, much like before. Only this time, it was faster. Valerian ignored it, choosing to fire off [Scything Blades] at his opponent's face. Ethan backed off, choosing to protect his eyes instead of attack, just like Valerian expected. Whilst, he fully intended to test his close combat skills, Valerian was not one to neglect his other abilities. Who on earth would toss away half his deck before entering a card game?

    He had arcane abilities and he would use them in conjunction with his tellurian ones. Besides, both Clude and Harry had stressed one particular fact. "Keep or seize the battle rhythm!" In addition, Harry reminded. "Seize all openings to put down your opponent!"

    Valerian definitely wasn't going to let this opportunity go. He struck quickly, mace flaring brightly from the qi he used. Unfortunately, his opponent knew Harry's principles too. Even as he twisted his torso to avoid the spell, he sent his own attack at Valerian. [Misty Outcrop]

    His knee shot upwards, smashing into Valerian's chest. Like a tossed ragdoll, Valerian was sent skyward where he met his cousin's right fist, already prepared to send him back down. He struck the fighting platform in a sickening crash that sent cracks radiating from the point of impact. Coughing blood, he looked up to find his cousin's steel sabatons coming down on him.

    Harry's final principle flashed through his head at that moment, "Finish decisively!" there was no doubt in his mind that if that foot landed the battle would indeed be finished. In fact, he would lucky if he came out of it in one piece. Valerian frantically called on the wind. It tugged him out of there, buoying him up and supporting his wings as he hightailed it away.

    As he made his escape, he was treated to the sight of his cousin's foot stomp the stage, smashing downward so strongly he created a three-metre-wide crater. It didn't end there. A shockwave moved through the fighting platform, nearly knocking the referee over. Luckily, Valerian was in the air and thus was unaffected. He hung there, witness to the destruction Ethan had caused. Even recognising the move he had used.
    [Tremor Step], a prized clan technique.

    Belatedly, he ran his hands over his chest. Thankfully, the knee failed to make it through his shield and breastplate. If not, the knee spike would undoubtedly have gored him. Still, the force of the hit had hurt him internally. Valerian swiped the blood dribbling from his lips, aware that this was his first true injury of the tournament. He swallowed the blood still in his mouth, eyes focused on his opponent. This match was going to be difficult.
    Even so, Valerian felt his blood churn. Some part of him was getting worked up and something was pushing him forward revelling in the pain and feeling of danger. Perhaps, it was because for a moment there when he had been in the shadow of Ethan's foot he feared for his life. That survival instinct had spurred him on and pushed him into his optimum state, physically and mentally.

    Valerian looked at his cousin and surprisingly felt an even greater urge to fight. Not out of anger, well maybe there was a little but there was also this primal urge to just grab his opponent and beat the shit out of him. To prove himself the stronger of the two. For a brief moment, Valerian considered holding it back but he changed his mind. Ethan looked like he could take it. Today, he would unleash his full strength.

    His eyes swept the stage, finding his mace leaving a few metres from his adversary's feet. He thought of calling it to him but discarded that thought. His trusty mace was, unfortunately, too weak to be used in this fight. It made for a good arcane focus but it was inferior as a melee weapon, especially against the sword in Ethan's hands. Valerian had already seen chips flying from it in the last clash. Best keep it out of the way in the fight that was to come.

    Instead, he used [Rending Talons], allowing the qi to coat both his arms and shape them into imitations of a peng's talons. Prepared, he shot forward at his waiting opponent.

    Ethan had waited for him to recover choosing to play the defensive role in this battle. In his mind, he had already designated himself cluder and Valerian harrier much like he would when sparing with his other cousins. This was different though. Normally, he limited his strength for fear of hurting them. With Valerian though, he feared not using enough and getting struck down instead.

    Seeing him come at him, in his strange eagle-like manner, reminded him of the last two clashes. He had been lucky. His abilities and experience let him come out top in them but he had been pushed each time. Who knows if Valerian would succeed this time and land a critical hit? It was probably best for him to keep him away.

    With this thought in mind, he infused his sword with qi and swung it. His form was practised and perfect, with each sword swing sending forth a beam of sword qi. His sword grumbled at not being able to taste Valerian's blood directly but he dismissed its complaints and continued slashing at Valerian from afar.

    To the spectators what he shot weren't sword beams but rather streams of sword qi. Each sword wave was five metres long and each carried a sharp, frigid aura. They had been released from a four-metre sword held by a four-and-a-half-metre-tall birdman so even though they were proportional to him they were huge to everyone else. Also, they left a brutal chill in their wake that could be felt from the stands and were made of sword qi so sharp they created slash marks on the stage floor that preceded them.

    Valerian stared at the many sword waves heading towards him. Each came at him in a different manner such that together they formed a net of sword qi. Concentrating, he sped up instead of slowing down. Relying on the wind to guide him, his translucent wings beat even harder, making it difficult for spectators to even see his image clearly.

    Up. Down. Left. Right. Tilt. Slash.

    That became his mantra. His mind centred itself entirely on [Soaring through the Heavens]. Those waves that he could not avoid, he cut through with his talons. He did so till he made it through the net of sword qi leaving his beautiful mantle the only victim of Ethan's assault. It floated down behind him, reduced to little strips but he didn't even notice.

    Rather, his advance went unhalted. Racing forward, his arms kept up their movement this time sending out triple beams of qi from his [Rending Talons]. It was the first time Valerian had ever done so but it came instinctively. He just filled his talons with his qi and his intent to dice up his enemy and then swung at him. This allowed his qi to fly forward, guided by his fighting spirit and shaped by his technique.

    Now it was Ethan's turn. Unlike Valerian, he didn't even move from his spot. Instead, his qi surged and his sword swept forward once more. His movements were lightning quick, making it seem like his sword was at three--four places at the same time as he endeavoured to parry each talon strike. However, Valerian wasn't only striking from afar. He too seemed to appear at more than one place at the same time.

    Relying on his speed, he circled his cousin, raining down qi strikes like he would spells. He kept this up till it seemed like he had blanketed the air around Ethan with them. Seeing his foe occupied, he went in. First, he struck at his right heel, his talons sinking into the armour and steel-like flesh beneath to slice through the Achilles tendon. Ethan cried out from the pain but remained standing. That notwithstanding, he lost focus for a split second allowing a talon strike to land on his breastplate.

    Regrettably, the qi strikes were not as powerful as an actual close-up [Rending Talon] and so all it did was leave cuts in his armour. Even so, it gave Valerian the opportunity he needed to fly up and cut through the ligament at the back of Ethan's knee as well. This time, Ethan buckled. He went down to his knees with yet another cry of pain. Fortunately or unfortunately, this caused many of the qi strikes to fly over him.

    Valerian had purposefully aimed at his head and torso so that he could attack his legs safely. Ethan's reduced height made some fly above him but it also meant that the rest were now all around head height. Acting quickly, Ethan raised his hand to cover his head. His skin and armour shone, a steely glint covering them as he activated a defensive skill.

    Valerian took this chance to fly away. Rising sharply through the air and leaving his cousin to face the aftermath of his attack. He was treated to the sight of his qi strikes striking Ethan's head and upper torso. Some missed and cut apart the stage floor instead. Sadly, they had absolutely no effect. The only thing they did was create sparks as they struck Ethan's glinting body. He ground his teeth in frustration and began building up qi for his next move.

    As he did so, he noted that Ethan did not move an inch until the steel glint left his body. 'He can't move when he uses the skill', Valerian concluded. That would be a nifty thing to exploit if he got the chance. He watched impassively as Ethan stood up, wincing as he put weight on his right leg.

    "This will be my final attack cousin, prepare yourself!" Valerian warned him.

    Ethan glowered at him, his eyes dark and his sword grip tightening only for his eyes to widen when he saw Valerian's stance. In truth, every Steelborn at the arena looked at Valerian in the same way. He hovered, ten metres over the stage floor, fists clenched and held at his sides. Around him, his qi swirled rising and covering his body like a golden flame.

    [Cascading Fists]

    Ethan barely had time to raise his sword in front of him and awaken it before the avalanche started. Bright, whitish-blue light burst from the sword to wrap around its master just as Valerian launched the first fist.

    The [Cascading Fist] was an area of effect tellurian skill designed for use against multiple enemies. The Steel Monolith transformation, despite its great power, also put smaller enemies out of the user's reach. This was especially dangerous when facing multiple foes. One could be surrounded and slowly worn down or they could land many debilitating strikes to bring you down.

    That was how pack animals like painted lycaons hunted down large prey like devil elands. They'd surround it and bite at its legs till it crumbled. The eland often lost because he could not fight the entire group at the same time. Despite its strength, it could only attack one at a time leaving the rest to attack it from the flanks or the back. It was to prevent such a thing from happening to transformed Steelborns that techniques like the [Cascading Fists] were invented.

    It did one thing and one thing only. It blanketed the area with qi-enhanced fist strikes, crushing anything and everything in the vicinity. It was like rain. It came down in single drops that together washed away all opposition. It was like a rockslide. One rock was worrisome but when they fell together en mass nothing could block them. It was also one of the only Steelborn tellurian skills Valerian knew and he used it with all the force he could muster against his cousin.

    Each of his fists shot forward, releasing massive metre-wide fists of qi. They went in turns when one shot forward the other was drawing back and building up its next charge. Valerian floated in the air, his fists blurred and indistinct from the speed with which they moved. Soon, only their effects could be seen as massive golden fists descended on Ethan and the fighting platform in droves.

    Dust rose, obscuring the stage. The only thing that onlookers could make out were the flashes of light that appeared whenever a fist struck the stage. The sounds created were like those of a thunderstorm. Crashes and booms, that's all anyone could make out. They were so loud that they rocked the place, creating visible tremors in the fighting field.

    After what seemed like the hundredth fist, Valerian stopped. He hung there, panting visibly as sweat poured down his brow. Everyone waited for the dust to clear so that they could see just how beat up Ethan was. The winner of this fight was clear. Valerian had hobbled him. There was no way he could move properly much less avoid the fists and there was no shield that could possibly endure that volley. They just hoped that they hadn't just witnessed parricide.

    Suddenly, a beam of sword qi shot out of dispersing dust clouds, cleanly slicing them into two. A second followed, creating a cross-shaped sign as they flew at Valerian. Pushing his tired body to the limits allowed by his flight technique, Valerian just managed to sidestep the sword beams. They shot past him continuing upwards where they cut open the overhanging clouds.

    Valerian examined himself in fright. He had almost been killed in that last strike. Despite dodging it completely, he still suffered internal injuries from the qi that made up the attack. Hoarfrost covered his armour and his sweat had frozen. The feeling of that freezing sword beam lingered in his heart, filling it with shock and fear.

    Looking into the quartered dust clouds, Valerian could make out Ethan standing there unscathed from his [Cascading Fists]. His body stood ready to continue and his sword was now completely different. Icy, whitish-blue light glimmered over its blade like a fire and its aura buffeted the very world essence around it. Valerian didn't need to be told to know that Ethan had been suppressing its true power before.

    However, now he was done playing games. His very gaze was murderous.

    "I SURRENDER!" Valerian found himself screaming, his voice cracking in the middle.

    Author's Note:

    So, how many of you predicted that ending? Even more importantly, how many of you think you know what the Steelborns are up to? I'd like to hear your deductions.

    Sorry if the fight disappointed you. Valerian just can't win this battle. Ethan is a mutant with the blessing of a minor divinity not to mention a fully trained tellurian combatant who was raised from one day to head a clan full of burly knights. He is better trained, has a higher cultivation, a more powerful weapon and is in possession of the best skills and methods from the clan archives. Even in full form, Valerian would lose. Marginally, true as his raw power might overwhelm Ethan for a bit but his cousin has his own trumps. He is the blessed one after all. In addition, it would be a pyrrhic victory at most if Valerian won 'cause then every lord and mercenary in the arena and all their dogs, horses and allies would be asking some very pointed questions.
     
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    • BK II, CH 16: A Hateful Bow
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Sixteen: A Hateful Bow


    I lost. I lost so shamefully.

    Those were the words that kept echoing in Valerian's head. He was still in shock. When the referee called the match, he meekly went home, ignoring all of the platitudes that were offered him by his family and well-wishers. He just walked into his room and sat on his bed, unable to come to grips with what happened.

    It's not like he expected to win the match. He had known from the very beginning that he was not going to win. Everyone had told him, warned him. Ethan had never even transformed fully in any of his previous matches. Not that his opponents were weak but because he was too strong. He steamrolled them without much effort. He was the prized genius of the clan. The top of his class in his academy. An institution that trained officers for the Royal Bathan Army.

    Be it weapons, skills, tutors, training, or cultivation resources, he had lacked none growing up. He was considered by the elders to be a true heir to the Menhirionn legacy. Fit, powerful, with incredible battle instincts and enough raw strength to flip hills. In their entire generation, the only person who completely outclassed Valerian in pure strength was none other than that same Ethan. Bear in mind that Valerian was more than twice as strong as the average Steelborn at his cultivation tier.

    Then there was the rumour Richard had told him. That Ethan had the favour of the StormHawk and the ability to call on some of its powers in battle. Valerian had confirmed most of those rumours today. Ethan's strength really was greater than his. His transformation, even without its "extra features", was also a step above their peers. As for his sword, just thinking about it caused Valerian to shudder unconsciously.

    No! Valerian had not gone into the battle expecting to win.

    That notwithstanding, he had not also expected to lose in the manner he had. His intention was to climb up that stage and reveal some of his fighting prowess. Let everyone know that he wasn't just an arcanist and an array master but also a tellurian and a Steelborn tellurian at that. After displaying some of his best moves, he would then concede and bow out gracefully.

    That would not only showcase his skill but also win the favour of the clan and the elders. It would make it clear to the Steelborns, who he confessed to being a bit isolated from, that he was still a clan member and that he was willing to put aside his own aspirations for the clan. Putting Ethan before himself would show them that he greatly considered the clan and his place in it. However, he made a big mistake. He had considered himself to be Ethan's equal.

    In spite of all the warnings, he did not accept that Ethan really was that far above him. In his head, even if Ethan was more powerful, he would not be that far behind. Both of them were Steelborns, weren't they? Both of them were lauded as geniuses and most of all, Valerian himself was not just a tellurian he was an array master and the descendant of the Golden Winged Peng. Even if Ethan was more powerful, it was only because he was eight years older than him, right? The gap couldn't possibly be that wide.

    He was wrong.

    He let his own arrogance and pride steer him wrong. If Ethan had taken him seriously from the get-go…. Valerian felt his heart skip a beat from fear. His body experienced the phantom sensations from before. He saw that cross slash again in his mind's eye. Only this time, he was unable to dodge and it cut him into quarters. He put his hands together and squeezed, trying to stop them from trembling.

    He nearly died today. If he hadn't dodged? If Ethan had followed up quickly instead of pausing when he did? He would be dead. There were no two ways about it. The fact that Ethan had been taken aside and harshly admonished by the clan elders for using that attack was more than enough proof.

    The spectators didn't know. They didn't experience what he did. They didn't have the same extrasensory abilities. That moment when the sword first appeared, Valerian had known something was off about it. Truthfully, he didn't even notice the sword at first. He just sensed the bloodlust and quickly backpedalled, abandoning his attack. It was only when he got away that he noticed that it was a sword. Plus, the way it changed Ethan when he held it…

    Even so, he didn't see it for what it truly was until Ethan drew out its true power and attacked him with it. It was a noble artefact! Forget normal essence artefacts like his mace. Ethan's sword was a weapon that should only be in the hands of people at the lord tier or above. In terms of power, it was at least fifteen times greater than his poor mace. How Ethan was able to control it was a question on its own. The thing that frightened Valerian was not its power but its aura.

    Everyone saw the frigid sword qi that Ethan shot from it but Valerian with his abilities saw more than that. Neither the sword nor its qi possessed any freezing or ice abilities. Yet, the blade somehow froze everything in its vicinity. It did this by leeching the heat and life of everything around it. Valerian remembered clearly and he doubted he would ever forget. That cross-shaped slash he dodged. Despite dodging it, he felt his blood chill, his body grow cold, his qi diminish, his vitality drain away and his whole self, get covered in hoarfrost.

    All that, just from coming close to some of its expelled qi. Imagine if the sword qi hit him or if the sword itself did. He turned to look at the claymore wondering what sort of weapon would do such a thing and then saw it. By taking off the suppressants, Ethan also allowed him to see the sword for what it truly was. It was all he could do not to scream in fright. The thing was evil. It was a bloodthirsty, life-stealing weapon of destruction.

    That's what it was. What it did. What's worse, that's what Ethan did. His aura was entwined with the blade, enhancing it just as the sword did him. Valerian's senses reached for his cousin only to recoil in shock at the realisation that the sword had taken lives. Dozens of them. Proudly. Happily. All at Ethan's hands. He could sense the energies gathered in the blade, strengthening it and its wielder. A wielder whose eyes communicated the intent to do him harm and whose sword thirsted for his blood. Both of whom were gearing up for another attack.

    Valerian surrendered immediately knowing that he would die if he didn't. Shit! He had nearly died just a couple of seconds before. He was not proud of his decision but at the time he had been staring death in the face and contrary to his own expectations, Valerian did not stand firm. He lost his composure. Not just surrendering but doing so in obvious fear. He wasn't sure which was first. Nearly dying or having everyone see him at his weakest moment.

    Valerian Steelborn never lost nor did he fail at anything. He never backed down from a challenge and he never went back on his word. Today he had failed at not one but three of his maxims. Valerian could honestly say that that had been the closest he had ever knowing come to death and he was disappointed in himself. Not just for losing but because he had just realised that he may be the type to tuck tail and scurry away when the big moment came.

    His mattress sunk, a form suddenly appearing at his side. Surprised and already on edge, Valerian nearly struck at it with his mace. Thankfully, his uncle was able to grab onto it and stop it. Valerian looked at his uncle and Richard looked at him understanding clear in his eyes.

    "We need to talk!" the armoured giant said softly.


    Valerian looked at his opponent today. Aaron Veldt was praised and hailed a genius of the bow. There was even a story circulating of him tripping over a strung crossbow as a child and causing it to shoot a target dead centre. Despite that though, he did not use a crossbow but a longbow. He was a tellurian who specialised in ranged warfare and whose enemies were often defeated before they could even get within three metres of himself.
    He was about Valerian's height but probably a few centimetres taller, with long hair drawn into braids. He was surprisingly pale for someone who supposedly spent twelve hours a day shooting targets at his family's range. Also, he seemed very tense. His bow was already drawn and his kept running his fingers over the quiver at his side. Interestingly, he carried two of those. One at each side.

    Valerian was more interested in the bow though. It had a strange scaly appearance. The material looked like bone covered by golden scales. There were also red strips of cloth wrapped around the ends. 'A stylistic choice perhaps?' Valerian wondered. Then his eyes were drawn to the stands where a few females screamed for their 'hero' whilst waving coloured kerchiefs. 'A token from a lady or something?'

    Whatever. He could guess the reason for his opponent's nervousness. Aaron too had lost his first match. Right now, it would seem that the first place was already out of both their hands. The winner of the zebra would be determined by the number of wins. Unless both Ethan and Tirenael lost a match each, there was no chance for them to catch up. Valerian doubted his monster of a cousin could even lose. Still, he felt no pity or empathy for his opponent. He too had come here to win and he had already resolved to crush him.

    "FIGHT!" the referee yelled.

    Immediately, both sides sprang into action, seeking to seize the initiative. Faster than he would have deemed possible, Aaron had drawn and fired. Arrow after arrow flew at Valerian but he was long gone. A gold streak shot into the air, pausing to reveal Valerian already in his transformed state. He looked down, noting Aaron's surprised face.

    'He probably didn't think I could transform that fast', Valerian realised. He snorted in derision. 'How useful could a transformation be if it took too long to enter it?'

    Impassively, he swung his mace downward and let his arcane energy loose. Forgoing [Wind Fists] his go-to choice, he released [Wind Blades] instead. They were harder to shoot down. Yet, Aaron managed to do so. He shot them out of the sky like a hunter would pheasants. The strange part was the care he took to ensure that not even a single one landed anywhere near him.

    Valerian immediately caught on that his opponent was on guard against his tactic of hiding spell anchors in other spells. As he dodged a series of incoming arrows, he frowned. That would make things harder. He raised his mace high, shaping his next spell. [Wind Scythe]. A massive, one-and-a-half metre long, curved blade took shape from the world's essence. Valerian directed it towards his adversary whilst shaping another one.

    Aaron left his position and run as far and as fast as he could. That was not a spell he could shoot down. Unfortunately for him, Valerian had sunk his consciousness in the spell and was controlling it remotely. Thus, it followed him. He looked to the side to find another bearing down on him and a third descending from above. Three! Three wind scythes were chasing him. None of which had any intention of dispersing or flying off course.

    He gazed upwards searching for Valerian even as he leapt and run around the platform. Scurrying under a scythe that came too close for comfort, he confirmed his suspicions. Valerian hung in the air, his mace raised and his eyes closed. He wasn't moving. Knowing that the only way to stop the spells pursuing him was to defeat the caster, Aaron grabbed an arrow from his quiver and begun to infuse it with his qi, intending to release his first skill in this match.

    [Skyward Lance]


    The sky, elevation and high ground were all great and obvious strategically superior positions. Nevertheless, everyone knew that ranged fighters restrained that advantage. There was nothing else to be said. The bow was specifically invented to attack things from afar. It didn't matter if they were on the ground or in the sky. In fact, the sky was worse. It had no cover. Nowhere to hide from his arrows. A smirk came on his face as he observed his arrow shoot towards Valerian's oblivious figure.

    The Veldt were predominantly lightning attributed. That posed a problem for them. Despite the lightning attribute's power and destructive capabilities, it fared badly against certain kinds of foes especially people like the Steelborn who were metal attributed. Metal conducts lightning making them resistant to their powers. This was the only reason he brought physical arrows into this fight.

    Normally, Aaron would merely shape his qi and fire it at his foe. Such a tactic was ineffective on the Steelborns would could ignore the majority of the attack's power. However, once the lightning was centred on a physical object even if the elemental damage would not be much the penetrative force of the arrow itself would be enough.

    The skyward lance he had fired was even better. It used lightning qi to boost the speed penetrative power and force of the special arrow he had fired at his opponent. It streaked through the air, expelling lightning from its fletchings as it shot towards its unwary target. The crowd watched as what could only be described as a bolt of lightning went ground-up and through Valerian.


    A grin snaked across Valerian's face as he intoned, "[Burst]."

    The [Wind Scythes] glowed brightly for a split second before fracturing loudly. The pieces shot everywhere, tearing through everything in their vicinity. Most notably, tearing through a dumbstruck Aaron. Having expected the spells to disperse once he disrupted the caster's concentration, or in this case injured him greatly, he had taken his mind off them. He hadn't done so for long but it was long enough for what Valerian intended.

    The Valerian in the sky shimmered and dispersed, fading away like smoke blown away by the wind. As it did so, the real Valerian appeared, a full ten metres away from the first. Having dispersed the [Mirage spell], he hovered in the air to survey his handiwork. Shards of stone and bits of the stage were still flying around from the explosion of wind shards he had created. A dust cloud obscured the part he wanted to see most.

    The smile on his face was yet to fade. His plan had worked perfectly. Aaron might have prevented him from anchoring spells around him but what about spells around Valerian himself? He knew from the beginning that the [Wind Scythes] probably wouldn't work. Plus, his opponent was being conservative with his skills and qi. Funny then that all he had needed was a decoy to act as bait and he was able to get him to drop his guard enough to slip in that attack.

    Who would have thought he would get so much utility from a spell that he was taught for hiding traps and his presence when hunting? He had to thank his grandmother after this match. That and see if she had more nifty tricks like this one.

    Valerian really wanted to fire another [Wind Scythe] or two into the dust cloud. He really didn't want to take chances. However, he could not be sure about the state of his opponent. If he did so and ended up killing or maiming him he could end up being disqualified from the tournament. Still, he gathered arcane energy and called on the wind to clear the obstruction.


    Aaron was hurt, badly. His body was littered with cuts and his body felt like it had been struck multiple times with a meat tenderizer. That explosion had carried both force and sharp implements. As he bled into the dirt, he couldn't help but fear that he had lost the match already. It was that thought that woke him up. He couldn't lose. If he did, the clan would do more than kill him.

    Struggling, he pulled himself to his feet, using his bow as a crutch. Then, he began to undo the ribbons wrapped around the ends. Gritting his teeth, he channelled his qi into the weapon, still unblemished from the calamity that had befallen its temporary master. When Aaron first got this weapon he was filled with awe. Following that came dread and apprehension. For his clan to be willing to go so far to win against the Steelborns was worrying and telling.

    Over the last month, he had been fed the best medicines. Given special training and even been the subject of no less than four forbidden techniques. The most his body would handle. His qi and body had been strengthened. His cultivation boosted and all at the cost of twenty years of his lifespan. Also, he would probably never enter the Emperor realm in this lifetime. The last he wasn't worried about. He had had a less than one per cent chance of doing so anyway.

    The gains were tremendous. If he succeeded in winning the Zebre, he and his closest relatives would be catered for for the rest of their lives. He would continue to enjoy the treatment he had just experienced as well. That was more than enough for him to put his life on the line. What he couldn't do was lose. Keeping this in mind, he finished unwrapping the bow. His qi continued to be sucked in, the weapon voraciously devouring his essence. Then, their auras began to merge and its power began to flow into him. This was his trump card. The one that would ensure his success.

    He had already lost one match but the clan had understood. The weapon and its abilities would have been useless against his opponent. Even so, he had been warned against losing again. No matter what, he had to beat the Steelborns. That was his true goal in this tournament. On that matter, Aaron wasn't worried. Burstfire was a Steelborn slaughtered.

    The wind blew, obviating his cover. Aaron looked up at his opponent's smiling face. He watched transfixed as that smile turned to horror. Somehow, he could tell that things had changed. Sadly, the Steelborn could do nothing. His qi surged, Burstfire boosting it to levels that a Tellurian practitioner should not have. Feeling invigorated, Aaron raised the bow. Drawing it and releasing it whilst aiming at his winged target.

    An arrow of fire shot across the distance faster than he could blink. It was practically a skyward meteor. One that struck Valerian in his chest. He couldn't even scream. The heat and pain were beyond intense burning his throat and lungs. Smoking and burning, he fell from the sky.



    Author's Note

    I know you are probably wondering what Richard talked to Valerian about. Well, maybe not that but definitely what was said, Sorry! That would come later.
    There are more important questions here. What is happening with Valerian for one?
     
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    • BK II, Chapter 17: Innate Phantasm
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Seventeen: Innate Phantasm


    Water overcomes fire. Earth overcomes water. Wood overcomes earth. Metal overcomes wood. Fire overcomes metal.

    That was the order of the primary elemental circle. It was something that popped into Dorian Veldt's mind the moment he saw that damned Steelborn brat fall out of the sky like a dead bird. It took a considerable amount of mental effort to keep away the smile of satisfaction that fought to appear on his face.

    For a moment there, he had been worried. He knew that Aaron was forced to conserve his qi just in case he needed to awaken Burstfire. But that last attack made him wonder if they hadn't made a mistake in their approach. The most powerful weapon in the world could never help you if you were defeated before you could use it. Luckily, Aaron managed to undo the artefact's bindings and bring it to bear on his opponent.

    Before the arrow even left the bow, Dorian knew that they had won. The results confirmed it. With one strike, the Steelborn was out. This would be their weapon against the Steelborns. Those metal dullards were nearly all melee combatants. Using fire attributed ranged weaponry was pretty much a guaranteed win. It was also what they would do when the time came.

    This Zebre had not gone on too well for them. They had come to DaleGuard hoping to make it clear to their dependents that they could still stand up to the Steelborns. Unfortunately, it seemed like they had missed the critical points of the Steelborn ploy.

    The entire thing had gone pear-shaped. The Zebre had become the staging ground for the Steelborns. A massive recruitment drive had sprung up. That bastard William had gone and reaffirmed his position in the eyes of the people and as for that oath he and his clan had made. It had reassured and strengthened the fealty of the masses. Even, he couldn't believe that the Steelborns actually swore an oath on the Heavens and the Earth.
    The dangers alone that action presented were too many to count. Yet they had gone through with it. It made the people calm and joyful. Knowing that their lord had sworn such a powerful oath to protect and provide for them was already appeasing the masses and causing them to look at the Steelborns with different eyes.

    As for the revelation that the Steelborn legacies might be merging. That one had scared him. The thought that the Steelborns were growing even stronger was frightening to him. Considering that his clan had barely made headway because of the same fact that the Steelborns were more powerful than them, the widening of that power gap spelt doom for their ambitions.

    As for the bit at the end concerning the clan's guardian spirit, that had nearly caused him to despair. Thankfully, he wasn't the only one. He had been lucky to glance around the Lords' Booth at that moment and see the different expressions on the faces of the assembled aristocracy. Immediately, he realised that he was not the only one that this affected adversely. Many other regional powers would, of course, be worried. To him, that presented new opportunities.

    Putting those things out of his mind, he decided to concentrate on the present. Instead, he quickly initiated "the act".

    "What? Where did he get that weapon?" he spat out angrily as he turned on one of his clan members in his retinue.

    "My lord, I thought you knew. Elder Crow gave that artefact to Aaron when he became his apprentice", the 'surprised elder' replied.

    "You mean he actually thought it would be a good idea to give a noble artefact to his apprentice. The boy cannot even control it. Didn't any of you talk some sense into him?" Dorian steamed, not letting off.

    "I..I milord I'm sorry. We were just thinking that an extra edge would not be too bad. Besides, Aaron is not the only one with a noble artefact", the elder sputtered defensively.

    Dorian seemed to be mollified by this causing the elder to let off a visible sigh. Inwardly, he smiled. Dorian did as well. It felt good to finally win something, especially at the expense of the Steelborns. Honestly, their entire performance had occurred under the cloaking wards of their seats. However, that did not mean that the other parties in the booth were unable to notice the commotion that had occurred in their area.

    From the corner of his eye, Dorian could make out all of the people glancing their way. They might not be able to hear but they would see the argument and connect it to the events on the stage. He stood up, leaving his seat and making his way towards the viscount and his party.

    For Dorian, the smartest thing his father had done was to get in good with the usurpers. Publicly, the Veldts were one of the most peaceful and compliant clans in the viscounty. They were also a placating force that helped the Steelborns manage the other factions. Indeed, they hadn't made a lot of headway. The Steelborns were notoriously isolated and paranoid but no one can deny that the actions of the Veldts were genius. Who would suspect one of their most ardent supporters to be the ones marshalling their enemies against them?

    Politely, he greeted the Viscount and his family before going straight into the matter.

    "My lord Cragsveil, I am ashamed to say that this servant did not monitor his people properly. I had no idea that young Aaron was allowed to enter the competition with such a weapon. It would appear that the desire to win has caused some to act inappropriately. This servant begs your forgiveness. I promise to do my best to punish him later. I also ask that young Valerian's treatment be left to me so I can make amends for this" he implored.
    The Viscount merely glanced over him before answering, "That will not be necessary Lord Veldt. You are not at fault. The rules allow for contestants to carry up to one artefact that is a single tier above them".

    'Yes they do, don't they?' a smug voice said in Dorian's head. In truth, the only reason he was even standing before the man was to play the dutiful servant. There was no way that the Steelborns could even punish them for this. It was perfectly in accordance with the rules. Though of course his actions would appease them and prevent them from acting out in other ways whilst maintaining the illusion that they were loyal to them.

    "Besides", the Viscount added. "The fight hasn't ended yet."

    It took a second for Dorian to understand that statement but the moment he did he spun around to look at the fighting stage. There he saw the Steelborn brat still standing. 'How…?' he questioned.

    Quickly, he made some excuses and apologising for his impetuousness, he rushed back to his seat. It's ironic then that he never saw the looks the three Steelborn brothers shot his retreating back. The Veldts were indeed the most helpful barons to the Steelborn. Even without being asked, they'd provide their services and help in administration.

    Even when they first assumed the peerage, whilst the other clans and baronies were protesting the decision the Veldts were among the first to pledge their allegiance. However, they would never guess that it was this same helpful, compliant, loyal attitude that made them the very same people that the Steelborns were most guarded against. They were the most scrutinised power in the faction and they didn't even know.

    The children of the mountain learnt from their mistakes. The dumbest thing they could ever do was fall the same way twice.

    Following that, their eyes left their disloyal vassal to look worriedly at the stage.


    Valerian crashed into the fighting stage. The fall was jarring and only served to aggravate his injuries. He rolled on the floor in pain trying in vain to smother the flames. Reaching out, he called the wind to his aid. For a full minute, he lay on the floor still in shock and pain. Grunting, he forced himself to his feet. He couldn't believe things had gone this bad, this fast.

    That blast had broken through his [Valiant Armour] and compromised his armour's defensive abilities. Some of his hair had been burnt away and his entire body was covered in blisters and burns. His armour? Bent, cracked and blackened. Thankfully, that arrow was completely made from qi so nothing actually penetrated him. In a way that was worse. He had qi burns all over his body. Those would be difficult to heal. His armour and flesh were visibly steaming and the rents in his armour revealed burnt flesh.

    Across from him was a smug-looking Aaron. His body still showed signs of his attack but the wounds were no longer bleeding and his entire body was being strengthened and bolstered by the noble artefact in his hands. He looked at Valerian who could barely keep himself standing and asked.

    "Do you surrender?"

    The words echoed in Valerian's head causing him to think back to his previous match. 'No! Never again!' he told himself. His lips and throat were covered in burns so he didn't even try speaking. Rather, he let his actions speak for him.

    [Wind Scythes] began to take shape around him. Using metal would be unwise in this situation. However, wind wasn't much better. Still, it was all he had. Completely disregarding his injuries, he pulled on his arcane energy casting [Wind Scythes] even as he made the most powerful [Mage Guard] of his life. The arcane energy was so intense it shone nigh invisibly in the air around him, humming with power and pressing into the stage floor so strongly it created a circular furrow around him.

    Aaron looked at Valerian's preparations and smiled. He drew back on his bow. Fiery qi sparked at his finger and shaped itself into an arrow. The qi arrow continued to grow more and more intense as he and Valerian faced off.

    "[Smiter's Bolt]" he intoned as he loosed his bow.

    "[Wind Scythes]" Valerian yelled mentally as he let the five wind spells he had built up rip forward.

    The result of the clash was a no-brainer. The bow skill created using the noble artefact tore through the wind spells and struck against Valerian's arcane shield. The shield was powerful, yes! However, the arrow was powerful as well. Plus, it possessed incredible penetrative power allowing it to puncture Valerian's shield and strike him down like a victim of a righteous god.

    The concussive force from the resulting explosion alone was enough to shatter what remained of Valerian's shield and buffet the wards that protected the stands. It cratered the stage and sent flames and shards of rock flying all over the place. The crowd watched, eerily quiet as they watched Valerian get decimated by an opponent with superior firepower.

    Turning to the referee, Aaron spat out dismissively, "Call the match!"

    The battle was over.


    Valerian thought he knew pain before but he was forced to revise that assertion. He felt like he was in hell. The flames around him had yet to die adding to this image. His armour had practically been seared to his flesh and if not for the fact that he could not produce sounds everyone would hear a first-hand account of what sounds came from a man whose flesh was melting.

    He lay there, praying that someone would come to his aid quickly to help with his torment. Nevertheless, despite the physical pain he was currently feeling and the very real possibility of permanent disfigurement, his heart hurt from the realisation that he had lost. AGAIN. The whole situation made him think back to the talk he had with his uncle Richard.


    "There is no shame in losing. At times, the choice isn't even ours to make. We try as much as we can to resist the possibility but even so, there are instances where we can only accept it. What you must do is focus not on the defeat but on what comes after. Think not of your fall but of you standing up. Every defeat is a chance to learn, a chance to better yourself, and a chance to grow.

    "You made a good call by surrendering today and don't let anyone tell you differently. There is no shame in fearing death. Nor is there shame in clinging to life. That is our instinct as living things. It is the source of our motivation and the fuel for our daily struggles. The fox that fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.

    "That is something that took me a long time to realise and even longer to come to grips with. What I am going to tell you right now Valerian is my most shameful moment. It is also one of the most defining moments of my life. It is a story you have wanted to hear for the longest time. The story of how I got my injuries.

    "During my time in the army, I was assigned to a small contingent of soldiers whose mission was to deal with a burgeoning horde lorde who was causing havoc in the western areas of Cragsveil. There we found ourselves victims of a powerful emperor-tier dragon. The daemon was vicious and it was all we could do to stay alive when our leader, some high-born bastard from the House of DeArbre, abandoned us and pretty much threw us at its maw to survive.

    "I lost many friends that day. We fought and died as our leader and two of his cronies having succeeded in trapping us, fled. That was how I received my injuries. By becoming the plaything of a dragon. It raked me with its claws twice and that was enough. I lay on the floor, bleeding out and watching helplessly as my colleagues were slaughtered. I was so injured I couldn't even properly. All I could do was lie there and cry in despair.

    "Eventually, all my colleagues were dead and only I remained. The dragon spun around, surveying its handiwork and do you know what I did?"

    Valerian shook his head, struck mute by the story.

    "I played dead! That's right. I Richard Steelborn pretended to be dead so that the dragon would pass me over", his uncle said, laughing darkly and sadly at his own words.

    "There was nothing else I could do. And at the time the only thing I could think was that I did not want to die. It was days before I was found. For a long time, I felt guilty about this and worse, I could not live with myself. Was I any better than the superior who left us to die? It was only with much effort on your grandfather's and Jonas' part that I recovered.

    "I came to an epiphany then. If there was something I couldn't live with then I wouldn't let that happen. My greatest fear is being helpless whilst those who I hold dear suffer. To prevent this, I fought hard. I pushed myself to recover and until I gained the power at my hands now. Many were sceptical that I would even walk straight again but look at me, I stand here on the doorstep of being a Tellurian King.

    "What I am trying to tell you is that if you cannot bear to lose then make sure you do not. Fight as hard as you can, train to the utmost and push your limits. Let this experience teach you and at the same time don't let it repeat itself. Do you understand?" he asked.

    Valerian nodded dumbly, his mind busy mulling over his uncle's words.

    "Good!" The man said to him. "Now get up! Let's go train and go over your plans. You'll be fighting that Veldt boy tomorrow."



    If you cannot bear to lose then make sure you do not.

    Valerian thought on these words. 'Well, it would appear that I failed to do that Uncle Richard', he said to himself. It tore him up inside. His greatest fear wasn't really losing. It was disappointment. He could not bear to disappoint himself, his family and his blood. He was a child of the mountain. A child of the Golden Winged Peng. If he couldn't live up to that then what was he? What of all the promises and assurances he kept making to himself and his family members? If he couldn't keep them then wouldn't his words ring hollow? Wouldn't they be meaningless?

    In the end, it didn't matter. He had lost. There was no way he could win this battle. There was nothing he could do. 'No! There is something I can do', a small, dark, reluctant part of himself said. 'What? What can I do?' he asked it. 'I can take him with me', it answered.


    The crowd waited for the referee's pronouncement. The fight had come to a close. Many were saddened and disappointed but that's how it was. Someone had to lose. The healers were on standby waiting to rush up the stage.

    "WINNE…" the referee was unable to finish the statement.

    Before everyone's stunned eyes, weapon after weapon began to appear in the sky above the stage. Swords, quarrels, knives, axes, spears, javelins, tent pegs and miscellaneous scraps of metal were being expelled from the interspatial ring on Valerian's finger. It was everything he had and he was even tempted to add what coins he had as well.

    They spun above him, a veritable maelstrom of death. He forced as much qi into them as he could and they began to glow as they spun. Slowly and painfully, he forced himself into a seated position, horrifying the spectators with the image of his burnt body. In the end, he had decided. He would do as his uncle advised.

    Fight as hard as you can, train to the utmost and push your limits.

    He sent his weapons forward, making them rain on a shocked still Aaron. The first a crossbow quarrel went into his thigh as he turned to escape. The rest followed suit but their target was already running. Flares of fire could be seen as Aaron tried vainly to shoot them out of the air.

    Valerian doubted he would win this battle but he would give it his all. Briefly, he considered transforming fully but knew it was a terrible idea the moment it crossed his mind. Instead, he focused on his cores, pulling out as much power as he could. If he was going to lose then he might as well do so after giving it his all, shouldn't he?

    So he did so, emptying his qi and arcane energy into the implements he sent flying at his enemy. It worked, somewhat. It was incredibly wasteful but the attacking pieces of equipment were faster and stronger than they had any right to be. They were actually pressuring Aaron even with the power of his noble artefact. However, in return, his reserves drained rapidly. Soon he was running on empty. This forced him to dive deeper and deeper into himself drawing out all he could.

    This drew out more than he expected though. He had never noticed it before but there was a strange grey essence underlying his qi and arcane energy. It was there, mixed in but remaining separate. He did not know how it escaped his notice before but it was there now and it was forcing itself on him.

    His body stiffened as it crept into his meridians. He tried to circulate it, control it but it escaped him, refusing to stay put. Instead, it forced its way outward rising from his pores like a steel grey steam. Once it began, it did not stop. It just kept coming. Instinctively, Valerian began helping it along. Allowing it to rise into the sky to accomplish its true purpose. By this point, the shock from his injuries and essence exhaustion were getting to him.
    Shaking his head and trying to stay conscious Valerian looked skyward at whatever it was he had brought forth. It was a massive spectral figure. It was made from steel grey essence and shaped like a giant man. It was fifteen metres tall and built even more sturdily than his uncle Richard. It roared, running forward to engage Aaron.

    Unable to stay awake, Valerian crumpled, falling into the world of darkness and dreams. He did so thinking about how that spectral grey figure resembled all those paintings of Steel monoliths he had seen. But at the same time, he felt some doubt. Why? That Monolith had looked like him.

     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 18: Innate Phantasm II
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Eighteen: Innate Phantasm II


    Tirenael Reed surveyed the fighting platform, delighting in the chaos that had been unleashed. Below, a mighty behemoth raged. Fifteen metres tall and built sturdier than a marble obelisk, the armoured spectre tore through everything in its path, guided by nothing but dark fury. However, it wasn't quite… there.

    The giant knight was grey, translucent and possessed a sturdy armoured carapace that was a facsimile of Steelborn plate. Yet, despite how solid it looked, its spectral nature was easily discerned by even the most ignorant of the many people watching. To many, it seemed like the ghost of Valerian Steelborn. A dark arisen whose purpose was to take vengeance for the pitiful boy who had died a painful and violent death. That wasn't completely far from the truth. If ghosts appeared as fifteen-metre-tall knights that is.

    It was in the way it appeared and in the way it moved. Everyone had seen it rise from the collapsing Valerian. Steel grey smoke that coalesced into a spectral giant. But it appeared to be a touch out of sync with reality. The wind did not ruffle its hair nor did its movements produce any sound. The world around it seemed darker and most telling of all, it had no feet. It was not fully formed. All that existed below its thighs were faint wisps of spectral essence. It actually hung in the air without them, drifting hither-tither as it beat the stuffing out of everyone that faced it.

    Still, it was alive. Tirenael's special sight told him that much. It was pure essence and spirit given form. Driven by feeling and intent. Much like a spell but instead of being crafted, it was drawn out of the deep self and sent forth. Instead of something cast, it was an innate power to be invoked in times of peril. A guardian. A protector. An alternate self.

    His dark red eyes couldn't help but glance over to its source. At the burnt heap of a boy that lay sprawled on the fighting stage. The match officials had succeeded in rescuing his opponent. At least, they had managed to get what was left of him. Personally, Tirenael would have let him die. It would probably have been kinder that way. What would an archer do without his arms?

    Right now, they were focused on making their way to the phantasm's creator but it was having none of it. He watched as the main referee was sent flying by a brutal blow that tossed him dozens of metres away. Luckily, the man's shields held, saving him.

    It stood there, steadfast, and for a moment all the stories and rumours concerning the Steelborns run through Tirenael's mind. A gigantic figure composed of steel grey essence. With the strength and defence of a mountain. With wraithlike, metallic limbs and armoured carapace. It was planted there, refusing to let anyone or anything get close to its master and it didn't seem they could either. He was starting to see why everyone feared the clan so much.

    If he didn't see it for himself he likely wouldn't have believed it. To think that the array using brat would have something like this dwelling inside of him. For a moment, Tirenael felt the spark of envy burn within him. It made him smile. It was a hideous sight. His thin lips curved and parted revealing multiple sharp teeth and ashen gums. Impossibly wide, it looked like his face was being split in two. As always, his schoolmates edged away from him at the sight but he didn't mind.

    This had the potential to be interesting.

    He had come to make his name in this Zebre. Thus far, he had had a stellar performance. All of his enemies had been defeated in a flash, his power too much for them to withstand. He alone had proved the power of the Fire Sage School. It had proved his power, ability and claims of being the most powerful arcanist of the generation but it had also made for some pretty uninteresting fights. The only fight that had caused his blood to pump was the one against Beatrice, the eliminated Steelborn contestant.

    Sadly, even she fell screaming to the power of his flames. Her mettle and metal meeting their superior in him. For a while, he had wondered if it had been a little unfair since her attribute was particularly weak to his but soon he cast such thoughts from his head. He had been gifted with the fire attribute and raised with one of the greatest methods in the county.

    That was his strength. That she was weak to him was just further evidence that this was his time. An assertion made all the more certain by the fact that all the other major contenders shared the same weakness. A weakness to him. The only one who could possibly prove to be a challenge was the Steelborn heir with that essence draining claymore of his. As for the array master, the fact that he had a phantasm had only made his defeat inevitable.

    Wind fuelled fire. Metal was weak to it. The innate phantasm? It was a spectral entity. The flames of the infernal realm excelled at tormenting spirits.

    With that thought, Tirenael turned and walked away. His interest in the struggle below was gone. The phantasm was being calmed and the chaos was no longer disturbing the crowd. There was nothing more to be had here. Thus, Tirenael went away, already dreaming of the pain he would visit on Valerian and anyone else unluckily enough to end up across from him. His smile came back, causing the blue, ever-burning flame at the head of his staff to flare in response.

    His only hope now was that Winged Steelborn recovered enough to stay in the competition. That they might meet. If not, he would find another way to take his pound of flesh.


    Valerian woke up in a familiar bed, in a room filled with a pure and tranquil essence. He drew in a deep breath, pulling in more of the essence to soothe his stings. The bed was surprisingly comfy and the sheets were white. It didn't take much to figure out that he was back in the Steelborn infirmary. This was confirmed by the calming smell of the purifying incense that Healer Brian always had burning in the rooms as well as the portions of the numerous arrays he could see drawn on the ceiling, walls and floor that created, maintained and circulated the healing essence.

    'It's been a while', he thought, letting his head sink back into the pillow. 'Not since I opened my third meridian.'

    He examined himself. His body was wrapped entirely in bandages. There was barely space for him to see and breathe through as well as a thin slit for his mouth. Bringing a wrapped arm to his nose, he caught a whip of whatever ointment or oil his bandages had been soaked in. Whatever it was, it felt quite cool and good on his skin. Turning to his side, he rang the small bell that hung there to let the healers know he was conscious. In a few seconds, Healer Brian and one of his assistants pushed aside his curtain and invited themselves in.

    "Already awake I see Valerian. What did I tell you about your stunts fool boy?" came the man's greeting.

    "I'm sorry, Healer Brian!" Valerian said automatically with a small smile.

    Ever since that incident when he started cultivating Healer Brian had been the go-to healer whenever something went wrong with his cultivation or when he suffered injuries during training. The third level healer was careful, kind and meticulous in his care for his young charge. Over time, the man had grown on him and he on him. This, in turn, had caused the man's bedside manner to change from that of a professional to that of an exasperated uncle. Unfortunately, this time, the man wasn't up for their usual banter.

    "You really did it this time Valerian. Nearly seventy-four per cent of your skin was burned off!" the man announced. "I thought the resolution of your qi troubles would be the end of your flirtations with death and yet here we are!"

    "I'm sorry Sir!" Valerian responded automatically.

    "Sorry! This isn't something that can be solved with sorry!" the healer stressed exasperatedly. "I learnt you went head to head with a Veldt in possession of a fire-aligned noble artefact. Do you have no sense of self-preservation? You should have quit when you had the chance. That you would continue with the battle when you had no hope of winning and a decreasing chance of survival can only be the epitome of foolishness."

    "It's not like that!" Valerian protested. "I was just trying to win. I…"

    "And you think that justifies what you did?" Healer Brian spouted angrily. Valerian swallowed his protests at that. He had never seen the kind healer this worked up. The man looked at him angrily before composing himself and continuing in a disappointed tone.

    "Try and think of the consequences of your actions before you act Valerian. Life is not as cheap as people seem to think it is. It should not be bought or gambled so easily. The fact that you would go so far for a simple competition worries me greatly Valerian. It truly does. There are indeed some things that are worth sacrificing for but it is clear that your perspective on the issue is skewed if you actually think that going to such an extent for victory is okay.

    "What if you had died or been crippled? Did you think of that?" he asked. Valerian remained silent. "Your great future tossed aside for a competition that will only be remembered and discussed till the next one comes along. That would be a very fitting sacrifice would it not?" Healer Brian continued sarcastically. "And what of your family? Your grandparents and uncles. How do you think they would have taken your death?"

    "I..I…" Valerian spluttered. Healer Brian's words cut deep. Very deep and he wasn't done.

    "Life is something we only possess once. If you cannot take a temporary loss along the road of life then you would not continue along that road for long. If you cannot treasure what you have then you might as well give it away!"

    The man could see that his speech was being considered or at the very least that Valerian understood what he was saying. With a sigh, he added.

    "Perhaps, I have no right to be so preachy but I cannot help but worry. Just promise me, Valerian, that you will be more careful. That you will weigh matters more sensibly. Promise that you will better appreciate and protect your well-being and that you will not throw your life away in some foolish endeavour or gamble."

    "I promise!" Valerian told his healer.

    The two looked at each other for a moment. Valerian's eyes begging the other to believe him and Brian's checking to make the other wasn't just spouting empty words to appease him. Satisfied, Brian simply muttered,
    "Good!"

    "Now, let me just give you a once over and then I will have your family brought in. They have been waiting anxiously for news about your condition.


    His family burst in like water breaching a dam. His grandparents were allowed to lead the charge and they did so, leading their party of seven to his bedside. His grandmother quickly sat on the edge of his bed her hand reaching out and drawing him close enough to clasp to her bosom. The rest of them merely arranged themselves around him quietly.

    "Oh Valerian, we were so worried!" she exclaimed softly.

    He looked up, meeting her eyes and seeing the pain and worry they held only to swiftly look downward in shame. Healer Brian had been right. Thinking on the man's words ensured his mind now teamed with thoughts of the pain and hurt he had no doubt caused his family with his reckless actions.

    "How do you feel Valerian?" his grandfather asked, his worry evident from his tone.

    "Fine!" he answered quickly, unable to meet his gaze.

    "Brian! What's his condition?" a strong voice inquired from the foot of his bed.

    Valerian glanced towards the speaker and was surprised to see not only his great-grandfather but also an unknown great elder at the foot of his bed. The man was gaunt, for a Steelborn at least. A big frame that was neither filled nor fleshed out properly but had clear traces of once being well-defined, like he had been starved for a long time and had yet to recover. Now, Valerian would never claim to know all the great elders but if not for his maroon mantle then he would never have pegged the man as a great elder.

    The unfamiliar man carried none of the aura of nobility and authority that his contemporaries seemed to have. Instead, his aura was dangerous and furtive. He wasn't the most powerful man here, not with the patriarch present, but his aura was the one that set Valerian on edge the most. It had an undertone that drew his attention, one that was bestial and feral. One he did nothing to hide. With a start, Valerian realised that just as he was observing the man, the man had been doing so to him. Scrutinising him in search of something. Uncomfortable with the man's intense gaze, Valerian turned his attention to what healer Brian was saying.

    "Thankfully, he is going to be alright. The majority of his injuries were superficial. The flames burnt him badly but his own essence was potent enough to keep it away from his organs and his meridians so I did not even have to worry about those. A benefit of his legacies no doubt. His ventral portion, however, received a lot of damage. I was forced to get rid of what remained of his lips and nose as well as the scant remnants of skin he had and regrow everything. That was after banishing the foreign qi that lingered in his flesh.

    "It will take some time for him to get used to his new skin and for the structures to properly set. Valerian has already mentioned that it feels tender and soft but I expect that to stop over the course of the week. Still, it's a bit weak and sensitive right now so I'll leave him covered for now till his essence diffuses properly into his new flesh and skin and it truly forms part of him", the healer pronounced.

    "So he is going to be alright?" His grandfather asked.

    "Yes!" the healer admitted. "His vitality is even greater than I originally estimated. The moment his qi began recovering, his body did as well. I was even forced to put him under when he began waking up in the middle of the procedure despite the emergency crew doing so at the site. Even so, he woke up far earlier than I figured. Then again, I did not account for his phantasm. I'm guessing that its awakening may have added to his physique. We'll need to run tests later to see how far and by how much he has changed as a consequence."

    Valerian listened intently. If he heard right, something about him had changed. Again! Only, this time he didn't know what. The only thing that stuck out was one word. "Phantasm?" he asked. "What Phantasm and what is it doing me?"

    Everyone turned to him at that, a sort of wave of realisation passing through them.

    "Valerian…" the patriarch began tentatively. "How much do you remember from your last battle?"

    Valerian's face became pensive as he tried to recollect the battle. "There was fire, a lot of fire. As well as a lot of heat and pain", he began. "…a lot of pain."

    His voice trembled as the phantom sensations washed over him. He closed his eyes and focused turning away from the feelings and focusing solely on the events. "I remember not wanting to lose and wanting to crush Aaron and his bow. To make him hurt as much as I was. But I was running out of qi and arcane energy and then my qi…" His eyes widened and his voice turned frantic.

    "Wait… what happened after I passed out? No, wait… what day is today?"

    A hand clasped his shoulder, squeezing softly in an effort to comfort and calm him down. "It's all right Valerian!" His grandfather told him. "Everything is going to be fine! Everything is fine. Just breathe!"

    A sharp intake of breath could be heard as Valerian took a very deep breath as he fought to calm himself. Once he had done so, he asked again. "What happened?"

    "You drew out the Phantasm of the Menhirionn in your attempts to fight the Veldt. That is a feat no Steelborn has accomplished in generations. It is pity you cannot remember doing so. Though I am sure the strain of doing so for the very first time and in your condition at the time must have been very … stressful", called an unfamiliar voice.

    Valerian looked to the foot of his bed to see the strange great elder stepping forward. The Patriarch considered him for a moment before introducing him.

    "Valerian, this is Elder Allard. He is the clan's foremost expert on phantasms and a formidable tellurian in his own right. Given his expertise on the subject, I will let him explain it."

    The man focused his gaze on Valerian, seemingly excluding everyone else. Then, he began to speak.

    "To answer your question, a phantasm in the simplest of terms is a spirit. The spirit that walks among the living. The kind we are referring to at the moment is the type created and used by cultivators. This kind of phantasm is a spectral entity that is created through rituals that essentially claim and condense the essence of a daemon in the spiritual core of the cultivator. Allowing him or her to call on a spectral version of the daemon for a myriad of uses.

    "Phantasms are relatively rare among cultivators. The reason for this is that one has to be at the third tier with the mind's eye open at the very least in order to even have the slightest chance of obtaining one. That is just the condition that must be satisfied beforehand. The most important part is the method by which the essence is condensed and the spectre or phantasm is created. The method determines everything: the kind of phantasm you will have, its capabilities, the ways in which you can employ it and even the effects it will have on you. However, this is only true for created phantasms.

    "I have four!" he announced. "Four hard-fought and hard-won phantasms. You seem to have been blessed with an innate one. When it comes to innate phantasms you can forget pretty much everything I said before. The two are dissimilar enough to be considered completely different beasts. Unlike a created one, you don't need to attain any particular level of cultivation or martial state. You need no method or ritual. Hell, you don't even need to kill a daemon. From what anyone can tell, you just need to be born with one. You just need to be blessed", he added wistfully.

    "You are blessed with the clan's innate Steel Monolith Phantasm!"

    Valerian took it in calmly. "That's my phantasm?"

    "Yes", Elder Allard answered. "Unlike created phantasms that are limited and determined by the method and or ritual, innate phantasms are limited by one thing and one thing only. The user. With the right method and the right daemon, a cultivator can create a phantasm with whatever level of cultivation he or she requires. It could be the equivalent of a King or a Lord or even higher if done right. With an innate one, the entity is only as powerful as the person who bears it. Yours, for example, is merely at the first tier. If you were to become more powerful, it would as well."

    "What does it do?" Valerian asked curiously.

    "What do Steel Monoliths do? What do you do?" Elder Allard laughed. Your phantasm is you! I told you phantasms are spectral entities. You were born with one, have one slumbering in your core, what does that tell you/" he questioned.

    Valerian thought hard about the question. Phantasms were basically chained ghosts that were created by taking the life force of another creature and adding it yourself. If he had one without taking another being's essence… if his had come out of himself, been a part of him …?

    "My soul…" he realised. "It is a part of my soul! How?" he voiced out breathlessly.



    Author's Note

    This chapter is quite important to me. It touches on an issue I have always had an issue with. That is, how easy it is for protagonists and antagonists to pretty much throw their lives away in pursuit of trivial goals. That is why I took the time to address the issue before moving on with the story.

    It always surprises me when a character suddenly goes: "I want to become strong enough to save my family from …./ defeat my greatest enemy/ get revenge for… So I will put my life on the line for something that does not even matter in the long run."

    Perhaps it is just me or my upbringing but I've never really understood that. To gamble your life, ambitions and the hopes of all those who depend on you for something inconsequential is just…. ah well. I'm rambling.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 19: Grim Prospects
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Nineteen: Grim Prospects


    Allard looked at him appraisingly before answering. "The how is something very few understand but I can tell you of the necessary conditions for it. The first is to have daemonic ancestry and a very strong blood tie at that. The second is to have very potent essence. Truthfully, innate phantasms are just another kind of daemonic legacy albeit a very powerful one. However, the phantasm is not just another bloodline power or ability. It is you!"

    "Me?" Valerian asked.

    "Yes, you!" Allard confirmed.

    "Me?" Valerian repeated incredulously. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

    Allard sighed. "Created phantasms are spectres of the daemons used in their creation. Innate phantasms are different. They are daemonic spectres that spring from the user's daemonic blood or essence. They are a representation of the user as a daemon of his bloodline."

    Understanding begun to dawn on Valerian's face, "You are saying that…"

    "Yes", Allard confirmed impatiently. "Your phantasm is a representation of yourself as you would be if you were born a Steel Monolith!"

    Valerian's mouth nearly fell open in shock. He turned to his grandparents. "Is this true?"

    His grandmother nodded noncommittally but his grandfather did say something. "As far as we tell, yes. Innate phantasms are one of the top expressions of daemonic heritage. It is not uncommon for those whose essence and the blood are strong enough to manifest phantasmal guardians to protect themselves."

    Perhaps a bit miffed that his assertion had been doubted and that Valerian had chosen to confirm it somewhere else right in front of him, Allard's voice cut in harshly, "Your denial is not something I care for nor do I have any time to indulge– discussion on the topic. I am here on behalf of the council to confirm your status as a possessor of the clan's innate phantasm. Anything else would have to be done later."

    "How do we do that?" Valerian asked.

    "It's simple!" the man began. "Just listen to and follow everything I say."


    "Do you have a solid grasp of the essence?" Allard questioned.

    Valerian nodded in response, striving not to let his focus slip. It had been difficult finding that thick essence that had overwhelmed him the last time. It rested at the very bottom of his qi pool and was quite reluctant to rise at his behest. Still, he had succeeded in latching on to some portion of it.

    "Good!" Elder Allard pronounced. "Now, draw it out. Let it rise through your pores much like how you would manifest your qi."

    Valerian followed his instruction and at his urging a steel grey smoke began to rise off him, slowly surrounding his body. Everyone's eyes were on him. They had formed a semi-circle around his bed, staying a few feet away so as to give him some space. Valerian remained on his bed, wrapped in his many bandages. Slowly opening his eyes he focused them on the ethereal qi that swirled above his chest and belly. Was this all he could draw out? Pathetic. However, not everyone thought so.

    "Good, good," Allard exclaimed happily.

    "Now shaping the essence and controlling your phantasm can be especially difficult at the beginning but try and imagine it as an extension of yourself or your limbs rather than as qi or arcane energy to be shaped by your will", he mentioned.

    "Think of your right arm. That essence is as much a part of you as your arm. In addition, the connection is already there so you do not have to forge one. Just focus on the arm and imagine the essence responding to it. Can you do that?" he asked. Valerian nodded again.

    "Good. Now extend that arm and retract it. Focus on the sensation that comes to you as you move the limb and have the essence resonate with it. Now imagine the essence responding to that sensation. Stretch forth the arm and your essence!" came Elder Allard's tense voice.

    Valerian stretched, trying to immerse himself in the sensation he was feeling. Around him, the spectral essence stirred but nothing happened. "Argh!" he grunted in frustration. He was so close, he could feel it. The sensation was there. The resonance. He could feel it but he couldn't maintain a steady connection.

    "It's okay, Valerian", Elder Allard said softly. There was a tinge of regret in his voice. He had pushed too far. Seeing the essence had been all the proof he needed to confirm that Valerian possessed a phantasm. However, he had gotten excited and pushed for more. Now wasn't the time. The boy was still in his sickbed for Delrein's sake! There would be other opportunities.

    "You don't need to get it down right this moment. All you need to do is learn the process and practise. It will come to you eventually. For now, just concentrate on resting and getting better. We'll train when the time comes", he tried to tell the boy. However, the strained look on the boy's face made it clear that he wasn't listening. He watched as the boy kept moving his arm trying to provoke a reaction from his essence.

    "Are you listening, Valerian?" he asked, placing his hand on the boy's leg. "That's enough. We'll con…." The rest of his words fell out his mouth unsaid for right in front of him, something began to take shape.

    It was barely recognisable. Nothing more than amorphous smoke but you could still see the shape it was trying to emulate if you looked at it just right. The end was the most identifiable part and that was the bit that drew everyone's attention. Four smoky fingers reached out as if trying to grasp something in the distance. At their base, one could make out a partially formed arm, hanging there without any support. It lasted barely a second before it all collapsed. Valerian let out a deep breath from the exertion and raised his hand to his brow to wipe at sweat that had not been there before. That had taken more out of him than he had expected.
    It couldn't always be this hard. Voicing his thoughts, he watched as Elder Allard composed an answer.

    "At the end of the day, your phantasm remains an alternate self. The only way you can truly control that self and make use of it and its abilities properly is to seize control. Unfortunately therein lies the problem with phantasms. Why should they submit to us? Because we are the dominant personalities or because we created them? I'm afraid that forcing your phantasm to submit will be the actual problem.

    "All phantasms especially the innate ones want to be expressed. Yours just awakened. At first, it would be directed by instinct but I can assure you that it is watching right now sifting through your memories, learning, growing. Until you find a way to control the phantasm itself, using it or its powers will remain difficult. There are some innate phantasm wielders who even end up unable to leash the daemon and end up subsumed by it itself. That is not a pretty sight."

    Valerian uttered the words on everyone's minds when he replied, "That is worrying."

    Elder Allard merely chuckled. "Power doesn't come free young Valerian. Your own experiences should have taught you that. Be that as it may, we need it to fulfil our dreams and are thus, forced or called upon to pay its price."

    His grandmother squeezed his hand in an attempt to comfort him but he could see from the tight smile on her face that she was worried as well. His grandfather was clearly uneasy with the whole thing and his uncles … The patriarch stood there wearing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. The man had barely changed his stance since he entered the room. He maintained a bit of distance from the rest of them. Didn't engage in the displays of affection, make any comments and said very little, only watching with careful eyes. Valerian couldn't help but wonder why.

    Mayhap because he already had his eye on his estranged great-grandfather but he was able to catch an almost imperceptible gesture the man made. One which Elder Allard responded to instantly. He moved backwards automatically, slowly but surely, moving to stand by his leader's side.

    "We'll continue this later Valerian. For now, rest. Recover. When the time comes, I will call on you and we'll begin your training", the man announced.

    "Okay", was Valerian's simple response.

    The man was prepared to leave but before he could make his way towards the door the patriarch suddenly spoke up. "Do you not wish to know the results of your battle Valerian?"

    The words cut through the room. Healer Brian frowned and moved to speak with the man but was silenced by a raised hand. Talk of the tournament had been intentionally avoided and Valerian could hazard a guess why. Healer Brian did not approve of it. He was of the opinion that so long as there was no pressing need or medical reason, victims of traumatic events should be given some time to recover before the event was brought up.
    This was especially true for patients who had just woken up. They had already seen how Valerian reacted earlier. To bring it up again just for the scores… Had it been anyone else the Healer could possibly have forced him or her out of the infirmary but this was the patriarch. Valerian honestly wondered what the man's goal here was. He was not the one. That notwithstanding, he could not keep the man waiting for an answer.

    "I would indeed like to know the ruling", he admitted honestly. It was a match he had risked so much for of course he wanted to know the results.

    The patriarch ignored the harsh glares being sent his way. Choosing to nod sagely, he said, "The match ended with you burnt beyond recognition and barely breathing. Your opponent lost his arms when your phantasm caught him and tore them off. They could not be reattached. Additionally, the other injuries it inflicted on him so twisted his spine I doubt there is a healer in the county that could safely heal him. Besides that, five officials were injured when they tried to stop your phantasm. One was grievously injured when he was caught by, again, your phantasm.

    "On account of the turn of events, there were several complaints brought up. Many complained that you used a forbidden, life-powered technique to attack your opponent when it was clear you were losing. As you well know, such techniques are not allowed in the tournament. As such, there were calls for you to be disqualified and forced to pay reparations to the people you injured, your opponent especially since you basically ended any hope he had as a cultivator.

    "These complaints were thrown out when it was proved that there was no skill used but rather that the trauma of your injuries was probably a trigger that awakened your phantasm. Unfortunately, this only furthered the argument. A review of the events shows that you keeled over as the phantasm appeared. This some argued was proof that you had passed out before your opponent did meaning that the ruling should be that you lost.

    "There was a lot of back and forth on the matter but in the end, the judges were forced to rule the match a draw." Having said this, the man leaned forward and asked. "How do you feel about that Valerian?"

    Valerian kept himself composed, understanding that his great-grandfather was testing him for something. Even so, he was incensed at the thought that some people had apparently made a great deal of effort to try to discredit him. Thankfully, they had failed. However, Valerian knew that was less of a failure on their parts than a success on the part of the Steelborns at defending their own.

    "I'll admit I'm surprised", Valerian answered. "When I woke up here I did not expect to have won but to hear that it was a draw is interesting. I am a bit curious as to why people would try so hard to get me disqualified though."
    The patriarch smiled. "That my dear Valerian, was merely a reaction out of desperation. Let's just say that the clan has had some unprecedented successes during this Zebre. There aren't many parties happy with that. This was simply an attempt on their part to win something back and even slow down our march somewhat".

    "And if they were successful they could have blown it up to cast some doubt on our results", Valerian summarised.

    The patriarch gave perhaps his first genuine smile since he walked into the infirmary. "Correct! I see Valan has taken the pains to see you properly educated in these matters. He has always been good at them."
    The magistrate bristled but his father continued, "You were right Valerian. It is interesting. Chiefly due to the parties involved. I'd never have expected some of them to work together. It was enlightening."

    "I see", Valerian said. "But why?"

    "Sorry, why what?" his great-grandfather asked.

    "Why tell me all of this?" Valerian inquired. It was clear he had been made a party to something few people were to know.
    The man merely smiled again. "Oh, no reason. I just thought you should know." And with that, he turned to leave. "Get well soon Valerian! Have a nice day all of you!"

    They all watched him go all of them feeling that something was amiss. True enough when he got to the door he turned back and said, "Before I forget Valerian, we were able to get a stay on your behalf. The remaining matches in your division have been postponed. Given that both contestants were so grievously injured, it was felt that some time should be given for them to recover before re-joining the tournament. You have been granted three days. Your next match will be against Tirenael Reed of the Fire Sage School."

    The entire room was shocked by the news. Valerian was still in the tournament.

    "Before I leave, I wish to know Valerian. Will you still compete or will you drop out?"

    Having finally had enough, Valerian's grandfather stepped forward, unable to stay quiet amidst his father's machinations. "Are you mad? Can't you see that he is still injured?"

    He was not alone. Healer Brian and Uncle Jonas followed him. All were silenced when the patriarch raised his hand making a simple point as he did so. "The decision is not yours to make. Let us listen to the boy."

    All the attention in the room became focused on Valerian. It grew deathly quiet. Valerian scanned the room his mind racing but failing to see a way out of his situation. There were waiting for his answer. Choosing to avoid their eyes he made his choice.

    "I will do it!" he stated.

    His great-grandfather grinned victoriously before slipping out of the room. "I expected nothing less."

    The room immediately erupted into chatter.

    "What is wrong with you?" his uncle Jonas was shouting.

    "BOY!" yelled Uncle Richard.

    "Clearly, you are still….but that is no excuse. You will…." his grandfather said, beginning to wind up.

    What is the meaning of this Valerian? I thought we had an agreement", Healer Brian was saying

    Everyone was speaking at the same time. His grandfather's fury was expected but he was surprised at how animated his uncles became as well. The look of disappointment and betrayal on Healer Brian's face was painful to watch. As for his grandmother, she laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

    "You will not be leaving this bed, Valerian!" she stated matter of factly.

    "I have a plan!" Valerian managed to get out. The entire room became focused on Valerian again.

    "You are not going back on that stage!" his grandmother declared.

    "Wait!" his grandfather called out. "What is this plan of yours?"


    The Steelborn Arena, three days later

    The crowd was tense. Today's match had the arena packed more than ever before. This year's Young Lords' Tourney had become one of the main attractions. The fights had been spectacular. Now everyone, young, old, healthy and infirm wanted to see how it would end. It had been a surprise when they learnt that Valerian Steelborn had chosen to remain in the competition. They had seen the results of his last fight and many had feared that he would never fight again.

    Yet, here he was. He had actually come to the arena. Leading his numerous fans to cheer. The Steelborn had been one of the most interesting combatants to follow this year. His unique backstory, incredible and rare abilities as well as his peculiar fighting style had garnered him a rather large following. However, even they were worried. Valerian had shown up with bandages wrapped around every exposed part of his body. Had he been hideously scarred from his last battle? They didn't know but clearly, he was still injured. Would he be up to fighting his opponent?

    Valerian stood to the side of the stage absentmindedly rubbing the new and still tender skin under his bandages. His great-grandfather had been right. He would be fighting Tirenael today. The tournament officials were hoping to get rid of the stragglers and leave the main attractions. He was to fight Tirenael and Ethan would get Aaron Veldt. It wasn't a bad decision. They were injured and stood no chance of winning anyway. Keeping the two strongest contestants from meeting each other until the finals would only help build tension and attract more viewers on the final day. Slight problem though.

    The ploy assumed that Valerian would lose.

    Unfortunately, he hadn't come all the way to the Arena and trained his butt off to just give up without a fight. The referee signalled for him to climb up. The fight was to start soon. He made to do so when a hand clamped onto his shoulder. Turning back, Valerian was surprised to see his cousin Beatrice. She won the fifth seat after beating Kalian DriftCloud to a pulp in the runner-up battle. Sadly, she missed out on the finals due to being defeated by the very same opponent he was about to face.

    Beatrice was stunning. Long dark hair that fell in beautiful waves around her head and a very full figure that turned heads wherever she went. She had those classical beauty features coupled with a fit body. She was the sort whose beauty intimidated rather than attracted and she was made even more intimidating by the fact that she was incredibly tall for a female. Even Valerian was shorter than her. Then, there was the fact that she wore full plate armour and carried a massive kite shield at her back and a long sword at her side.

    Valerian looked at her, waiting for her to say something but she simply stood there. Not wanting the silence to become drawn out, he asked. "Can I help you?"

    "I…" she began, unexpectedly looking unsure of herself. Thankfully, that didn't last long. "I just wanted to tell you to be careful up there. His fire, it does more than burn."

    "Noted!" Valerian replied. He was pleasantly surprised. He hadn't guessed she would come over to warn him about his opponent. They weren't exactly close though the same could be said about his relationship with the other Steelborn competitors. There was hope then.

    "Thank you!" he told her truthfully. Not for the information. He already knew that but because she had cared enough to warn him. He gave a smile and she smiled weakly in return. Seeing the referee beckoning, he turned around and rushed up the stage, leaving his cousin standing there watching him go. A complicated expression on her face.

    Beatrice had originally come to tell him to quit. To warn him that there was no chance of winning. That Tirenael Reed was a devil. But unfortunately, she just couldn't do it.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • BK II, CH 20: Overwhelming
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter Twenty: Overwhelming


    When Valerian saw his opponent he could not help but think of the more stereotypical depictions of arcanists he had read growing up. Tireneal Reed fit them to his 'T'. He was gaunt, sickly and pale. His eyes were red, appearing bloodshot at first but on closer inspection revealed a cruel, crimson light. His bony fingers clutched at a bone staff that honestly looked healthier and better fed than himself. Two horns from an unknown daemon were attached to the head of the staff forming a beautiful stylish 'U'. This created space for the blue flame-covered core that floated in the "U's" bowl.

    His robes were dark red and flamboyant. Fitting loosely on his overly skinny frame. The whole thing made it so that Valerian couldn't help but think of the scholarly old arcanists that locked themselves up in towers and so neglected exercise and diet that they ended up emaciated and frail. As things stood, Valerian couldn't imagine any scenario where Tirenael would survive a punch from even a normal man without protection.

    Even so, he never once thought of him as weak. Not even for a tenth of a second. This arcanist was dangerous. That much was clear. His senses were warning him, telling him to stay away. Valerian didn't even have to look elsewhere for confirmation. Tirenael's smile told him everything. It was an evil, perverse thing that completely twisted his face into something horrific. It was the smile sadistic children made as they tormented animals and twisted the limbs of insects. Only, this one was directed at him.

    Obviously, the rumours about his character were true. Valerian knew he was going to have to be really careful in this battle. The referee announced the start of the battle and Valerian quickly got to work. He created a thick, strong [Mage Guard] to protect himself. Using [Valiant Armour] would be suicide against this kind of opponent.

    "Are you not going to introduce yourself?" came his opponent's voice. It was soft, soothing and completely not what he was expecting.

    "Pardon?" he asked confused.

    "Introduce yourself. You did so with the other fighters. Why not with me?" Tirenael asked.

    Valerian appraised him before answering honestly, "I was under the impression that I would not be given the chance".

    A grin split Tirenael's face. "You've been listening to what they say about me", he accused.

    "Listening? If you talking about the rumours being mongered then I am sorry but no. I've seen and heard for myself the treatment you give your opponents", Valerian informed him.

    "And still you choose to fight?" his opponent asked.

    "Why should I not?" came Valerian's response.

    "Hahaha!" Tirenael laughed. Unlike his voice, this was a dark, screechy thing that disturbed the ears.

    "You're brave!" he said to Valerian. "I like that. Most brave people are stupid but not you. You are smart. But you are ignorant and a bit arrogant perhaps. You simply do not understand your place. It's better that way. Makes it more fun to break you. When I drown you in despair you will then know your place but by that point it will be too late. You will already be burning!"

    He followed this with even more laughter. Valerian looked at this and smiled.

    "On the contrary, I think you will find at the end of this match that you will be the one burning" he declared.

    "Oh! Is that so?" Tirenael asked. His laughter was gone and all the mirth had left his face. His eyes had hardened. Now, he looked at Valerian seriously.

    "Quite!" Valerian affirmed. Then he bowed slightly saying, "I am Valerian, son of Valiant. Surnamed Steelborn, Dual force possessor, Array master of the first circle, Circle master of three attributes, Arcane Disciple of the metal and wind attributes, Tellurian Practitioner of the same, Scion of the House of Cragsveil. May we begin?"

    Tirenael did not bow. He laughed and raised his staff bringing it down hard to create a sharp thunk when it hit the platform. "I am Tirenael, son of Dernael. Surnamed Reed. Scion of the House of the same name. Third of my line to be titled "Brimstone". Arcane Disciple of the fire attribute and today, I will hear you scream."

    At his words, a flare of blue flames burst from the ground beneath Valerian's feet but when it dispersed Valerian was nowhere to be found. Tirenael swivelled searching for him but all he received was a quick wind scythe to his mage guard. The arcane shield shuddered but held easily. All the attack did was reveal Valerian's location to his opponent. It didn't matter though. He wasn't even bothering to hide.

    He hung in the air, his giant essence-formed golden wings holding him aloft. He had been prepared for Tirenael's surprise attacks from the very beginning. There was no way he was going to fall to it. Absentmindedly, he tucked in a strip of bandage that had come loose and reviewed his plan.

    Tirenael's title was Brimstone. Moreover, he was the third of his line to hold that title, the only other living one being his grandfather. The family had gained that title due to their famed cultivation method: [Torch of the Netherworld].

    Once, a devil from one of the netherworld planes found itself in Cragsveil. It wreaked incredible havoc until a campaign was undertaken that put an end to it. It was during this campaign and due to his contributions that Tirenael's twice great-grandfather, an elder of the Fire Sage School obtained the method. It was a method that allowed the user to cultivate an arcane vessel that would allow him or her to produce, hold and use flames similar to those of the lower planes. However, it did a bit more than that.

    The fires of the hells were flames created with the express purpose of torturing souls. The devils and devils who used them were those who delighted not in its efficacy but in the torment they visited on their victims. This did not mean that it was a weak flame. Conversely, hellfire possessed incredible renown for its destructiveness and heat. That was the kind of fire that Tirenael wielded. Intense blue flames that carried with them the terrible choking smell of sulphur. This was the reasoning behind the esteemed family title as well as why his character was so twisted.

    [Torch of the Netherworld] was a devil technique. It did not just allow the user to create hellfire it transformed him or her into a vessel for it. Any vessel that hoped to hold a devil flame would have to be a devil as well. Therein lay the problem. After generations of practising this method, the family had been irrevocably twisted. His grandfather had even informed him that they couldn't stop using the method if they wanted to. Nothing else could help them control their devil abilities. Abilities which only grew as the generations went by.

    Tirenael was the prime example of this. He possessed incredible abilities as well as the greatest synergy with the method in his family. Unfortunately, he had also gained many of the negative things associated with devils. He could perceive souls and tormented spirits and he had also gained a penchant for sensing negative emotions. But most worrying of all he had developed the ability to feed off the torment of those around him. Something he had already become addicted to.

    Honestly, Valerian did not know what to make of Tirenael after discovering all of this. His first reaction had been pity but Tirenael was not someone who deserved his sympathy. He delighted in it: his power and his abilities. He tortured his foes and his allies alike so he could feed on their fear, pain and despair. He was a devious, twisted individual who took pleasure in nothing but the pain of other people and the chaos he caused on a daily basis. That notwithstanding, Valerian did not hate him. He had no reason to. They were different kinds of people and one might even argue that Tirenael was not even completely human but part devil as well.
    If so then his actions and proclivities should be expected. They weren't to be excused though. Valerian for one did not care for it. He grasped the air, light appearing in his palm. He had a battle to win.

    "Scorching flames of the pits"

    Valerian looked down at his opponent, stunned. He felt the emanations of power when Tirenael uttered those words. Were these spellwyrds? That was all the warning he got. Flames burst into being around him. Channelling [Soaring through the heavens] Valerian barely managed to slip out before they completely surrounded him. Shocked, he appeared a few metres away watching the conflagration as the last few embers on his Mage Guard disappeared.

    He had never encountered a user of spellwyrds before. He had heard of it but never seen it in action. The Steelborns did not approve of the method.

    Arcanists could cast their spells in a variety of ways. They could use set incantations and signs, focus them through arrays, use reagents, deploy them from talismans or craft them directly like Valerian did. The last was the Steelborn way. It forced the arcanist to control the world essence directly with his own and shape it to his desires. This was more will and essence intensive but ensured that when the user mastered forming a spell this way, he would forever be able to cast it with will alone.

    The others were different. Incantations and signs helped focus the power but in reality, the arcanist still did a portion of the crafting himself. All they did was guide the power and reduce the cost making it in some ways better than the traditional approach used by the Steelborns. The same with the other methods. Arrays took time to form or draw and they only received mainstream use in production arts and rituals. Reagents performed much the same way incantations did but actually boosted the power of the spells in addition to reducing cost and control requirements. Unfortunately, good ones were often expensive. However, talismans were the most expensive of all as they were basically spells sealed into containers that could be released and used by basically anyone with a hint of cultivating knowledge.

    The drawback to using these methods was the reliance they created. The methods by which an arcanist trained and used his or her energy often stuck with him or her for life and that was the danger. The Steelborn method though old-fashioned and intensive made it such that they could cast at any time and under any condition. A Steelborn could be bound, gagged, sick, stripped bare or have any other similar condition applied to themselves but so long as their arcane energy remained unbound and they could bring their will to bear, they would always be able to work their craft.

    The same could not be said for the other methods. Take away a person's reagents or talismans and you would have basically crippled them. Prevent some from speaking or making hand signs and the result would be the same. And there was something worse. Interrupt one of these methods or prevent the user from being unable to use it properly and chaos would ensue. There were numerous examples of arcanists who had their incantations interrupted. All their stories had one common end. They all lost control of their spells, sometimes comically, others disastrously. Replace a reagent in a spell and the effects would no longer be predictable. As for those who began casting only to realise that they had run out of an essential reagent. Their tombstones could be used to pave hundreds of roads. This was the one weakness that spellwyrds shared with the rest of the other casting methods.

    Spellwyrds were powerful tools. They were not incantations but litanies. Incantations were used to focus the mind and guide the magic. Spellwyrds made it so that each word uttered was charged with power such that you were not only guiding the magic but effectively casting a spell on the magic you were already casting. These were often personal arias that allowed an arcanist to reinforce his magic or apply certain effects to it. It had a high power requirement. Higher than even will shaping but its returns more than made up for it. It also did not help with control but rather compounded it. Using spellwyrds while casting spells could produce great effects but if the user lost control the results were guaranteed to be disastrous. Valerian only hoped that Tirenael couldn't employ them to their full effect and that he would not lose control.

    "Thy master has need of thee"

    Flames erupted around Valerian again but he was already expecting that. Ordinarily, he should be able to feel the build-up in essence before the magic took effect but he guessed that one of the effects of the spellwyrds was to take that advantage from him. As it were, flames continued to burst into existence in the air. It was making it impossible for him to stay in one place. Whenever he stopped for even a split second, they would be around him. The audience was being treated to an amazing sight. A gold blur was zipping around the stage with bursts of fire blossoming around and behind him.

    "There is a sinner we are to address"

    By this time, even the spectators had begun to notice. Many were standing from their seats pointing and yelling. Why? Tirenael's flames had yet to disperse. None of the fires he started when Valerian took to the air had gone anywhere. They just hung in the air, continuing to give off their scorching heat and sulphuric stench. Slowly but surely they were crowding the air above the platform. If this kept up then eventually, Valerian would have no place or room to escape.

    "Come deliver your welcoming embrace"

    With these final words, every single bit of hellfire shot towards Valerian. Streaks of blue heat raced towards the golden one that was him. They came from every direction and from every angle. There were no openings just waves of blue fire that threatened to wash upon him. They were just the opportunity Valerian was waiting for. He shot downwards as if purposely aiming for the flames below him. People screeched in fear thinking they were going to see him burnt horrifically yet again. That was if he was lucky. Tirenael was never good to those who went against him.

    Just as Valerian was about to go through the flames numerous sheets of steel appeared in front of him. Using them as a makeshift shield Valerian dived through unscathed. Just as quickly as they appeared the metallic sheets disappeared again. He was through the wall of flames. However, he had not escaped. The flames were still behind him seeking to embrace him like their master ordered. Valerian paid them no mind. He was faster than them. Far faster. That was why Tirenael had to resort to stealth and wave tactics. Once they were behind him they would never catch up. Besides he had more important matters.

    Pushing his movement skill to the limit, Valerian all but disappeared from the sights of most people. Those who could make him out saw him shoot towards his adversary like an arrow launched from the bow. As he grew closer, Valerian drew his arm backwards. His [Rending Talons] coated it with nary a word and he punched forward, piercing through Tirenael's arcane defences like they were made of paper.

    [Rending Talons] was a technique that had allowed Valerian to butcher a high-tier dragon whose kind were particularly known for their defence. How could a [Mage Guard] put up by an Arcane Disciple compare? He had barely scratched the surface of the technique and already nothing thus far had been able to resist his talons. Add that to the momentum he had gathered due to his speed and you had an incredible attack. Tirenael was just lucky that Valerian did not want to kill him. Even so, the fight was over.

    The entire arena watched stunned as the unbeatable devil, Brimstone, screamed like the hounds of hell were after him. Pain, like he had never known, erupted from his abdomen. Not surprising given that the talons of Valerian's left hand had pierced through there and out his back. The second hand had its talons positioned in front of his throat. Panicky and irrational, Tirenael tried to shove his opponent away. His physical strength was pitiful but Valerian was careful not to hurt him too much so dismissing the talons of his right hand, he slammed his palm into his opponent's chest.

    There was a flash of white light and Tirenael was sent flying away. He lay there for a moment clutching at his bleeding belly in disbelief. The arena was quiet. Everyone remained deathly still as collectively they tried to make sense of what had happened. One minute Valerian was about to lose the next he had snatched victory. Many had not even seen what happened in those last moments.

    Ignoring the weight of the stares that were upon him Valerian turned to his referee. His intentions were obvious. The man in question stepped forward ready to do his duty when a cry of rage rang through the air.

    "I'LL KILL YOU!"

    This voice was nothing like Tirenael's had been earlier. All it held were dark promises and rage. It was painful to hear and quite literally buffeted the area with dark energies. Many spectators had to clamp their hands over their ears in an attempt to block it. Conversely, the person that voice was directed at merely turned to look at the crier for a moment before turning back to the referee.

    "Hurry up and call the match", he said.

    "RAAAH!!" Tirenael screeched. His staff, a noble artefact slapped itself back into his hand so he could draw on its power. His essence blew to immense proportions, growing darker and viler. And yet Valerian merely looked at him as if unconcerned. No one had any sense of what was happening anymore much less the reason for Valerian's confidence. And then the screaming began.

    Tirenael's aura diminished instantly as steam and smoke began to rise from his body. He fell back to the floor, his staff rolling out of his grip whilst he crumpled. The screams coming from him were inhuman. They were loud, sharp and so filled with pain that the watcher could not help but shudder a little. All they saw next was Valerian take a few steps towards his opponent his right hand covered in a bright white light. As he did so, Tirenael's screams lessened in volume making it obvious that he was the one behind it.

    Voice hoarse from screaming, Tirenael could barely speak. He forced himself to though. "What did you do to me?"

    Valerian ignored him.

    "When I get up I will…" he ground out. Immediately, the white light on Valerian's hand flared up and Tirenael was left squirming on the floor again. It was less intense this time as opposed to the last. No longer was he blanking out from the overwhelming pain. This time he could practically taste its nuances. Soon, he could take it no longer and began to beg.

    "Argh! It burns. It burns! Make it stop! Please make it stop!" he begged.

    "You were defeated. On the floor, suffering the effects of an unknown spell and yet you attempted to threaten me. Clearly, you did not know your place", Valerian said to him. "Tell me Brimstone, do you know it now?"

    The look his adversary shot him was so dark others would think it a curse but Valerian did not shy away. Tirenael quickly looked away frightened. Valerian smiled. He was glad. His plan had worked out. Before coming to this arena he had developed no less than five different ways to defeat his opponent and in the end, he used two. The second was more of an insurance really.

    The fight with Aaron Veldt taught Valerian a crucial lesson. He had believed the entire purpose of the Zebre was for young cultivators to showcase their skills. While it was not wrong he had taken a near-disastrous approach. He had held back. He avoided finishing blows. Did not strike with intent to kill or maim for fear of the rules. He had focused more on showing off his variety of skills and his planning whilst the others had focused on winning. That was why he chose to outmanoeuvre his opponents instead of simply firing dozens of heart-seeking bolts into their chests.

    At least until he met Aaron Veldt. The boy had come into the battle with a noble weapon he could not control. One that had been chosen specifically to target his weaknesses. He displayed little skill in their battle, relying on brute power and attribute superiority to win. That was not the surprising part. The surprise was that everyone had let him. No one had thought it wrong. That was how Valerian knew he followed the wrong approach. With the exception of that braggart Kalian and his cousin, who had never even had to try, every other opponent had been fighting to win.

    Even his cousin had nearly killed him when he got serious. Aaron had nearly permanently disfigured him. Tirenael had tortured his opponents. He himself had inadvertently ruined Aaron's life and future career in return. No one had truly been bothered by that. His detractors had tried to get him disqualified not because he had gone against the rules by maiming and nearly killing another contestant but because he won. Valerian had never felt so stupid.

    The aim of the Zebre wasn't to wow the crowd or prove his skills. It was to win. One could take down his or her opponents however they wished. It didn't really matter what they did so long as they seized victory. The rules were more guidelines than anything else. So Valerian revised his strategy. When he came into the arena today, he hadn't bothered to fight his opponent in a display of skill but to take him out. He was not fighting. He was hunting. After explaining himself to his family, he had spent the preceding days researching and studying his opponent, juxtaposing their strengths and personalities till he found several weaknesses.

    Tirenael was a devil who loved to torture his opponents so he could feed on their negative emotions. There was no way he would ever finish a fight quickly. The best chance of success lay in him defeating him before he grew bored, got serious or felt threatened enough to use his noble artefact. Secondly, Tirenael had a devil's arcane vessel. It gave him many strengths but also gave him many weaknesses. Good thing was, Valerian already possessed a fitting weapon.

    [Eliminating the Darkness].

    It was an array commonly used to enchant weapons with light energy so that they became effective tools against dark-attributed foes. It was the first thing Valerian focused on when the fight started. Only, he made sure to keep it small and concealable until it was ready for use.

    Once that happened, he had two choices. Enlarge the array so that he could send weapons through it, temporarily turning them into anti-dark weapons or somehow transfer the array onto his opponent's person. He chose the latter. An array that turned anything it was on into an anti-dark weapon and he placed it on the body of someone who had a devil's arcane vessel. The moment Tirenael began channelling his powers, it activated turning his own energy against him. The only reason Valerian stepped in was because he was afraid that Tirenael was going to kill himself in the beginning.

    He turned to the referee again and this time the man did not hesitate.

    "Winner: Valerian of the Steelborn!"

    Author's Note:

    Our boy was too focused on proving himself to be a good fighter he failed to capitalise on his greatest skill. He's the youngest array master in an age. Got to use it.
     
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    • Apologies for cultivation rant, but I am honestly frustrated!

    What is it about cultivation getting into so many stories???? 99% of cul-stories (I'm going to keep that name) can be explained in one sentence. "I think in some SPeCiAl way, and so I can destroy or over power all my enemies and obstacles." It gets boring quickly, and quickly falls into a repeating loop of 'Look at my new level of SPeCiAl cultivation and be amazed peons!'. I am at the point where I actually want to barf when I realize I'm reading a cul-story. I do not understand the attraction of them.

    The only two cul-stories that were good were ones about living in a world and along-side with such powerful introverted narcissists. Stories that didn't make the newest SPeCiAl protagonist the entire focus of the story.

    Wrote this after reading about the advisor talking about the MC reaching a cultivation level when he should not know any techniques. Tell me I haven't predicted the rest of the story? That this story actually has something new and interesting?
     
    Dur'id the Druid said:
    Apologies for cultivation rant, but I am honestly frustrated!

    What is it about cultivation getting into so many stories???? 99% of cul-stories (I'm going to keep that name) can be explained in one sentence. "I think in some SPeCiAl way, and so I can destroy or over power all my enemies and obstacles." It gets boring quickly, and quickly falls into a repeating loop of 'Look at my new level of SPeCiAl cultivation and be amazed peons!'. I am at the point where I actually want to barf when I realize I'm reading a cul-story. I do not understand the attraction of them.

    The only two cul-stories that were good were ones about living in a world and along-side with such powerful introverted narcissists. Stories that didn't make the newest SPeCiAl protagonist the entire focus of the story.

    Wrote this after reading about the advisor talking about the MC reaching a cultivation level when he should not know any techniques. Tell me I haven't predicted the rest of the story? That this story actually has something new and interesting?
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    I'm not sure what you're asking. Seriously, I've read through several times and I'm still confused so I'm just going off with what I managed to pick up.

    Protagonists are by their very definition, special people who are the focus of their stories. Besides that, most of what you've described covers such a broad variety of genres it's almost meaningless. It's not just cultivations stories. The loop of reaching a new level of power, flex, push ahead to a new level power, flex is the basics for every xianxia, litrpg, progression fantasy, shounen, superhero, mythological, epic, isekai, summoner fic, etc. For as long as mankind has been telling stories, from the Eddas and Mahābhārata to Dragon Ball and the MCU that trope has existed and it will continue to exist long after we're dead and gone.

    As for whether you predicted anything? Well, Valerian is the protagonist and he is special. I'm not sure what else you're asking.

    Personally, I think HoGW (that's this series by the way) is interesting in all sorts of ways. It's very East meets West meets South and I've taken care to blend aspects of what I love from asian, western and african fantasy into an appreciable whole. It's got good worldbuilding and an in-depth magic system. Plus, it's a coming-of-age story set in an epic fantasy world with lots of magic and fight scenes.

    That said, I don't think I can recommend you read it. Not if the thought of reading a story with cultivation makes you want to barf. My advice, read what makes you happy. If you hate cultivation stories steer away and find something more your speed.
     
    BK II, CH 21: Perspectives
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    Chapter Twenty-one: Perspectives


    In one of DaleGuard's many packed taverns


    "DON'T YOU PEOPLE SEE?" one man was yelling.

    He was drunk. Incredibly so. So drunk that he had trouble standing straight. Still, he tried to make his point. Fortunately for him, he was one of those who got only more impassioned and loud rather than slurry and passive when he became inebriated. Not so fortunate for the other patrons, however, who had to hear him.

    "This is how they control us. These Yignsi. They slip into our land and take over and now they impose their deity on us. These Steelborns! If we don't do something now we'll never be able to stop them. They are strong but if we all fight them together we can…" he was cut off when a tankard slammed into his face.

    "OH SHUT UP!" came an accompanying yell. There was laughter and cheering from the majority of the tavern's occupants. It appeared that they had finally grown tired of the loud drunk. The poor man had been sent backwards from the blow, blood spewing from his broken nose. Luckily, his friends were able to steady him to prevent him from falling as he was certainly seeing stars.

    "Outsiders this! Outsiders that! You people never have any proper complaint against the Steelborns. So what if they are outsiders? My grandmother came from the southern hills are you going to hold that against me too? Pathetic!" He spat. Many in the tavern nodded at this, showing that they agreed with him.

    "You don't understand", spoke one of the bleeding drunk's companions. He appeared to be far less inebriated than his counterpart. "This is different. They are trying to control us. It doesn't matter where you turn they are there. They've got their grubby fingers in everything and now they want us to worship their deity as well knowing that it would give them more power. How long before they enslave us or worse? We have to cut them off here before the time comes and we can't anymore."

    At his words, a large mercenary near the back started laughing. The man was at least two and a half metres tall and built like a bull. He wore simple leathers and sat on his own at the side of his small band unable to sit at table with them due to his size. Thankfully, he had been given a seat big enough as well as a small table to himself where his drinks and food were. He stared past all the other tavern occupants, his eyes unerringly finding the other man's.

    Keeping his overly large arm around the waist of one of the tavern wenches, he began to speak "That's your problem? The fact that the Steelborns rule us? I'm not sure what you know about ruling houses but I reckon that's part of their duties. I don't reckon the king gave them the land and peerage for them to make nice armour for themselves!"

    The other patrons burst into loud laughter as well when it became clear what he was implying. The ruling house was supposed to control all affairs in its territory. Getting angry because they did that was just futile and stupid.
    "As for slavery, hah! Have you got cobwebs between your ears boy? They are the ruling House of Cragsveil! All the land is theirs and all of the people are theirs to command. Only a more powerful power like a count, duke or the King himself can go against their wishes in their land. Why would they need slaves when they can already command any of us to do whatever they want?

    "If your problem is the fact they are the ones ruling us then take the matter up with the King. He appointed them. Or better yet challenge the Viscount. I'd love to see how long it would take for him to behead the lot of you. But if you are just going to stand here and spit out nonsense then take your foolish posse and get out here. Your stupidity is going to make our ale taste sour. Well …at least more sour than Trais' brew normally is!"

    Everyone burst into laughter again. Trais the tavern keep shot the mercenary an obscene gesture but that just made his patrons laugh even more. As for the Steelborn disparaging gentlemen, they merely stood there, realising that they were not being taken seriously. Many had their faces flushed an angry red and nearly all of them had their fists clenched at their sides. This was not the first time this had happened. It didn't matter where they went. Be it on the streets or in the taverns, nobody was willing to entertain them and their views, especially at a time when favourable sentiments towards the Steelborns were at such a high due to the events of the Zebre.

    In the midst of this tide of laughter, another voice was heard. "I for one am glad that the Steelborns are our rulers". The speaker this time was a well-known trader and people spun to face him and hear what he had to say.
    "The Steelborns are the strongest plain and simple", he stated. "They are the best we'll get. I'd rather they be in charge than any of the other lords. We should not forget that the last time war touched these lands, they all scurried off like roaches when the lamp is lit. It is only because of the Steelborns that there's still a Cragsveil. Those damned Wherries still fear us precisely because the Steelborns are our rulers.

    "They run a tight shift but it's a good, fair and efficient one. Whenever I recall my grandfather's stories of the old days I thank the stars that I live in this time and not in his. I cannot even imagine that Cragsveil was once what they say it was. With constant incursions, bandits and daemon raids not to mention the squabbles between the various lords. I don't even what to think of this land being that lawless.

    "No matter what you say about the Steelborns, they keep everyone in line. The lords know not to do anything foolish. All the old, famous bandit groups are gone. I am forty now and I have never experienced a Wherry invasion. That was something completely unheard of two hundred years ago. The daemons skirt our lands but they never intrude. Those that do…die. More importantly, the Steelborns ensure that everyone does his or her duty. I've looked at some of the figures. You wouldn't believe just how much that contributes to the peace and prosperity we enjoy.

    "I bet none of you can even imagine an official not doing his or her job or one that would require a bribe before doing anything. I trade a lot and I can tell you truthfully that while it might not happen in Cragsveil but it certainly happens nearly everywhere else. The only difference between Cragsveil and those places is that the Steelborns won't tolerate it and they can enforce those laws so no one dares. That's why I want them to remain. They can and will continue to do the job. They are strong enough to do so and they are the best we can have."

    The occupants of the taverns sat there murmuring as they deliberated on the trader's words. They had some merit. No other power or faction could control Cragsveil as effectively as the Steelborns and none of them had the power to sit at the top of the region. The confusion alone that would arise if the Steelborns were absent would be disastrous.


    Along one of the side streets in one of DaleGuard's residential districts


    A bunch of boys were gathered together. Each was about seven or eight years old. They were gearing up to play one of those games Valerian never got to play at that age. Cultivators! Unfortunately, there was currently an argument ongoing that prevented the game from starting.

    "I want to be a Steelborn!" the tallest lad said.

    "No, I want to be a Steelborn", the neatest proclaimed making sure his voice was louder than the one before him.

    "Wait, I want to be a Steelborn too", the third and shortest one mentioned.

    "We can't all be Steelborn", the first was wise enough to point out.

    "Then, I should be the Steelborn. I started this game so I should be the Steelborn", the second quickly piped in.

    "I… well then I'm John Hammerfist", said the first relenting.

    "Why is everyone wanting to be Steelborn?" the fourth and dirtiest asked in a puzzled tone.

    "Because, because the Steelborns are the strongest!" The second boy explained.

    "Except for maybe Hammerfist", the first boy stated.

    "Ha! Hammerfist can't beat a Steelborn. No one can beat a Steelborn.

    "Yeah, says who?" the first quickly objected.

    "Ask anyone. Everyone know it. I heard that at the Zebre that one of them even made a devil cry", the second said proudly.

    "Wow!" "Wicked!" the other two Steelborn enthusiasts exclaimed simultaneously.

    "I know", the second said in response. "When I grow up I'm going to get a job with the Steelborns!" he announced.

    "Well, my father says the Steelborn are all rotten. That they aren't even from Crasgveil and we shoun't have to listen to 'em"

    "Your father is the rotten one!" the 'game starter' yelled angrily.

    "You take that back!" the fourth yelled back.

    "I won't!" the other said stubbornly. "Everyone knows the Steelborn are good. They is always the good guys."

    "Yeah! My father says they go and fight daemons all the time" said the first in support of the second. "They got to be the good guys?" he reasoned.

    "But my father says…" the fourth tried to say.

    "Pooey! Your father is just jealous", the second accused.

    "Is not!" the fourth retorted.

    "Is too!" the second shot back.

    "Is not" the fourth repeated.

    "Is…"

    Thankfully, before they could truly get going a timely distraction came.

    "Guys! Guys! Stop. Come see! Charles is walking with a girl. They are holding hands!" came the voice of the shortest in the group, the third boy.

    "Where?" asked two voices.

    "Which girl?" asked the second boy.

    "Quick! Come see!" their friend called.

    Scrambling in their haste they rushed towards the curb to catch their friend holding hands with a very pleased looking girl. The baker's daughter from his street. Swiftly, they began planning how they would confront him about the matter and tease him. The quarrel from before was already gone from their minds.


    In a secret meeting room


    Dorian Veldt stood next to the entrance personally welcoming everyone in. Today's turnout was the greatest this century. Everyone had come. They even had new members. He just wished this enthusiasm had come sooner. 'Still', he thought to himself as he scanned the packed room. 'This should be enough to crush those dratted Steelborns.'

    Taking his place at the head of the table, he began, "My brethren we….


    Conversely, in a secret room in the Steelborn clan compound


    Roland Steelborn sat cross-legged in front of a raised dais. Two strange-looking elders at his sides. His eyes were open but unfocused. His thoughts were racing at breakneck speeds as he exchanged information with the being in front of him updating it on the progress they had made. The numbers that had already signed up. The move to send effigies for shrines to some of the remote towns and villages. The movements of their enemies as well as the donations and sacrifices already coming in.

    The Zebre had been an even greater success than they had planned it to be. He felt the presence in his mind pause, halting at an image. His great-grandson. Roland felt pride shoot up his chest as well as sorrow. It pained him that he had never been a part of the boy's life before now and that his relationship with Valan had degraded to the point it was now. Back in the infirmary, he stood there, on the sidelines, painfully aware that he did not fit in. He had no role to play among them. None but the role of the clan patriarch who sought the clan's wellbeing. So he played that.

    He sat there waiting as the presence in his head carefully went through all the information on Valerian as well as the various assessments made of him by the elders who had come into contact with him. Then, the presence withdrew from his mind. It took Roland a few moments to regain his senses and recover from the sudden vacuum in his mind. He and the spirit due to their roles shared the greatest connection amongst the Steelborns. It had reached a point where they no longer even spoke in each other's presence. Rather they performed mind melds so they could simply connect and exchange what they had to. That was why it surprised him when the spirit spoke.

    "The Boy! Bring me the boy!"

    "Valerian?" he inquired to make sure.

    "Yes! Bring him to me!"

    "I see. Then I'll have him brought over as soon as possible. Anything else?"

    " No."

    Roland nodded. Then standing up, he bowed to the dais and then made his way to the entrance saying goodbye to the priests as he did so. The StormHawk had spoken!


    Back in the Arena


    The atmosphere in Cragsveil was jubilant. The Zebre had come to a close and this one was perhaps the greatest in recent memory. The battles, the techniques, the fighters, the twists, everything was at an all-new high. The whole city was charged with it. Ordinarily, the conclusion of the tournaments should have led to a decline in the festivities. The finals were the climax of the tournament which was why they were all scheduled to happen at the same time. It should be all downhill from there but that was not the case.

    It was like the battles had not ended. Everywhere people were still discussing them and the bazaars and festivities were still going strong. It was a bit muted though. However, that was only because most of the people were gathered at the arena. The place was packed. So packed that many simply stood around the building itself. Everyone was waiting for the champions to be crowned and everyone was waiting to confirm for themselves.
    There were a wide variety of events at the DaleGuard Zebre. Thirty of them to be exact. This year, the Steelborns took first place in a shocking twenty-six of that number. What's more, they had won all of the truly important, popular and anticipated events. It was a record. No faction had ever won that number, ever.

    Inside the bowl of the Arena, the fighting platform had been reduced in size. Standing on it were the judges, a few officials, the Viscount and some of the other major personalities in the region. They were there to announce the winners and hand out the prizes. The top five contestants or groups of contestants in the case of the team events stood in front of the stage and waited for their turns to be called up. That was where Valerian stood. Right beside four others in his category. In the end, Aaron had been unable to compete and so scored an automatic loss against Ethan. Also, as he had predicted, Tirenael lost to Ethan as well.

    That left Ethan in first place with three points, Valerian in second with one win and a draw, Tirenael third with one win and of course poor Aaron with only a draw. Being that he could not attend on account of his injuries, a representative of the Veldt clan had been sent to receive his award in his place. All she had done thus far though was glare at Valerian whenever his back was turned. With the scores being as they were and the fact that Beatrice won the runner-up battle, the Steelborns had claimed three out of the five top spots.

    All in all, Valerian felt very good about himself. He stood there alongside the other winners and could not help but feel he had earned his place. They said he couldn't do it but he had proved them wrong. Better than that he had proved himself right. Everyone had said that he was inexperienced and he had agreed. But now, with a Zebre appearance under his belt as well as the fact that he had seized second place in the tournament no one could say that again. The best part about it was. It was true, the Zebre had opened his eyes and given him new horizons. He knew what he was capable of now and better understood his standing when compared to his peers.

    Thus as Valerian climbed the stairs of the platform amidst the cheers of his numerous fans, he felt happy and secure. He smiled as he received the scroll that held his prize and bowed not just to the assembled dignitaries but also to the crowd as well causing them to go wild. He had attained a better understanding of himself. Now, the only thing on his mind was the question, where to from here?

    The answer came in the form of a small object flying towards his face. Valerian snatched it out of the air. It was a hard object wrapped in some kind of paper. Quickly, his eyes shot to where the thing came from hoping to catch a glimpse of who sent it. What he found was one of the judges looking at him with a pleased smile on his face.

    Valerian turned his eyes back to the object in his hands. He quickly unwrapped it. The wrapping had a note scrawled on the inside.

    I think this will suit the style you are working on.

    'Style? What style?' Valerian questioned before looking at the object. It was a piece of jade with symbols inscribed on it. Valerian recognized it – a technique talisman. Excited, he scanned it looking for the name of the technique.

    [Illusionary Strike]


    "I can't believe you actually gave him that technique", Kanlu complained. "I remember begging for two weeks for you to let one of the students in my sect practice it and you still refused. Yet, you simply hand it out to people who have no idea who you are or its true worth."

    "Relax. I only gave him a copy. That technique is one that I planned to leave to my sect remember? There's no way I'll hand the original copy out", Kusko'o explained.

    "I see…" Kanlu said. His disbelief was clear in his tone.

    "How complete is the copy you gave the boy then?" Attaburrun asked.

    "I don't see how that is any of your concern", Kusko'o defended.

    "You might as well have given the original to the boy then", Kanlu quickly pointed out.

    Having nothing to say to defend himself, Kusko'o turned to his friend and said, "Shut up!"

    "Why?" came Attaburrun's voice.

    "Why what?" questioned Kusko'o.

    "Why him?"

    The man didn't even have to think before answering. "His talent for the illusionary arts is incredible. His skill and instinct for battle are the same as well. He can use that technique the way it was meant to be used. The moment I saw the way he used the mirage spell, I knew."

    "So you merely don't want his talent to go to waste?" Kanlu asked curiously.

    "Of course not!" his friend replied. "He is a promising junior from our own viscounty it is our duty to help him grow."

    "You've changed", Kanlu stated. Attaburrun nodded in agreement.

    "Please", he protested. "All I've done is grow old."

    The three turned to see Valerian bowing deeply in the direction of their friend. Kusko'o waved his hand making sure the illusion they kept around themselves nodded in response.

    "I suppose in a way the boy can now even be called a spiritual successor of yours now that he carries one of your famous techniques", Attaburrun pointed out.

    "You know, you're right", Kusko'o assented. "You know what this means. I've got the most promising youth in the last six centuries as my spiritual successor. What do you two have?" he ended snidely.

    "Why you…."


    Deep in the heart of Menhir Mountain


    The great Menhirion sat on his bottom facing the vault door. His once great form looked emaciated and weak. Cracks and rents marred his once-perfect body. He was bored, tired and weak all at the same time. No one had made an attempt on the door in nearly two decades. Shortly before the clan completely fell he had been able to seal himself in the Steel Heart. At the time, he thought it fitting for him to die in the very same chamber he had been born in. Then a great fear gripped his heart.

    'What if he was the last still alive?'

    If so, then when he died the vault would automatically reset itself allowing their enemies to open and enter their most sacred abode. So he forced himself to live on. Not for himself but for his family especially those who had died that night. The first century after his self-entrapment was the hardest. He would sit in the chamber with his senses stretched completely outward, monitoring what few surviving descendants he could reach. He was able to do so due to not only being the ancestor but also guardian spirit of the Menhirionn. However, it meant that was also able to sense it when a member of his family was murdered. There were times when he felt like bursting out of this vault and fighting to the end but he did not.

    Rather, he remained in the vault. Hoping without hope that some of his blood made it. Eventually, there came a time when he could sense no one no matter how hard he tried. He had nearly ended it right there. However, in the end, he settled for rigging the vault such that every single item within it and even him was tied to the wards and protections. That meant the only way for their enemies to break open the vault with force was to first destroy everything in it. Only, they didn't know that. He could help but imagine what their faces would look like when they opened the vault and discovered nothing but an old corpse and scraps.

    Then, one day more than four hundred years after he sealed himself in the vault he felt it. A pull on his essence. One he hadn't in a long time but still, one he was very familiar with. One of his descendants had awoken a phantasm. That day, for the first time in over two hundred years, the son of the mountain cried.

    HIS CHILDREN WERE STILL ALIVE!
     
  • Threadmarks
    • LupineKing said:
    .
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    Thanks for responding, and for being honest and direct. I will be more civil in this reply.

    I do like an occasional overpower fantasy, like That Time I was Reincarnated as a Slime, or slowgain of powers in a jump-chain, the cul-stories trend just seem to attract lazy writers. They technobabble way too much to justify their power, and not even good technobabble. Or they just build any actual plot by rule-of-cool, not really giving their story good charcter depth. Just moving from one 'cool' scene to the next. I like stories that really explore some fantastic concept or 'what if' question. Not invent new shallow concepts or acquire a magruffin just to have a great fight or curbstomp. :( Guess I like hard Sci-fi more than fantasy.

    To say it abstractly, most cultivation protagonists win their fights by going Karen on the universe and getting a manager that believes their BS. And we are now reading a more PR friendly version of events as written by the same narcissist Karen.

    That is only entertaining the first few times it is experienced. And so I really don't like cul-stories anymore, especially ones that are centered around cultivation. And really wondering what the draw to these stories is for others.
     
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