Traves sometimes gave him a bit of advice. Hadjar wished his Master would stop doing that. To be a Master on the path of cultivation, it wasn’t enough for a person to have tremendous power and knowledge, they also needed to have a talent for teaching others. Alas, Traves didn’t have that. Most of his advice was more confusing than helpful.
“Leave it be for now, disciple,” Traves advised after Hadjar failed once again. “Your experience and power are still not enough to combine the Internal Energy Technique with your knowledge of the Sword Spirit.”
Hadjar didn’t know what the Internal Energy Technique was and, judging by Traves’ evasive refusal to go into more details, this concept had nothing to do with ‘internal’ and ‘external’ Techniques.
However, it was precisely this piece of advice that inspired Hadjar. Such a blunt reminder of his helplessness, coupled with his memories of the fog wall and Sankesh, infuriated Hadjar. And it was this fury that ignited the fire of insight in Hadjar. After all, he didn’t necessarily need to merge the energy with his knowledge of the Sword because the Sword Spirit was already present within it. After all, it was in everything that surrounded Hadjar. If he hadn’t been a Wielder of the Sword, he would’ve never been able to understand that.
After hundreds of unsuccessful attempts, Hadjar rose to his feet once more. The undisguised skepticism was clearly visible in Traves’ eyes.
“Maybe I overestimated his talent,” the dragon muttered to himself. “Even the most mediocre disciples of a sword school in Darnassus would only need a hundred attempts to learn such simple stances, but he-”
He abruptly stopped speaking.
Wind spun around Hadjar. It ruffled his robes and strummed the ornaments woven into his long hair.
Hadjar’s sword glided through the air more smoothly than a stork’s wing, almost like a piece of fluff floating through the air. Hadjar seemed like he was trying to caress someone’s cheek with his sword. At the same time, his actions were terrifyingly fast and sharp. He launched a swift, deadly attack.
“Rustle in the Treetops!”
Hadjar completed his fifth stance. To Traves’ surprise, not a single cut appeared on any of the stones. At the same time, however, the dragon clearly felt changes in the energy flows of the World River. They were immensely subtle, almost imperceptible, beyond the comprehension of even Spirit Knights and Lords, but they helped Traves realize that something had changed. He couldn’t understand what had changed, which both pleased him and... scared him.
“Master,” Hadjar, tired but happy, turned to Traves, “please try to attack me.”
Without getting up from his stone, Traves directed the will of a Wielder of the Sword at Hadjar. A blade of wind formed in the air. Swift and ruthless, it headed right for Hadjar. However, about twelve steps from its target, it froze, unable to keep going. It vibrated slightly, and then the silhouette of a black-and-blue dragon materialized around it, grasping the blade in its claws. Hadjar, still smiling, turned the hilt of his sword slightly. The dragon smashed the enemy’s blade to pieces and disappeared.
“You combined the ‘Spring wind’, ‘Calm wind’, and ‘Falling leaf’,” Traves understood immediately.
Hadjar nodded.
“Why should I bother deflecting an attack if I’ve already dealt with it?” Hadjar asked.
Traves looked at his disciple as he practiced his new stance.
By the Heavens! How wrong he’d been! Disciples of the Darnassus sword schools would’ve cried bloody tears in envy... Hadjar Darkhan was a true monster, someone capable of creating a stance that could stop Traves’ will while still at the pitiful level of a practitioner. Hadjar couldn’t see it, but the approving smile on Traves’ face became predatory.
Chapter 378
Hadjar felt the time he could spend on the border of their souls coming to an end. Before, he would’ve simply woken up, believing that it had all been just a dream.
“You’re getting stronger, my disciple.”
They were sitting at the top of the hill again. Hadjar was looking at Traves, who was looking up at the sky. It was strange, but he could’ve sworn he’d heard a slight note of sadness in the dragon’s voice.
“Is that bad?” Hadjar asked.
The dragon took a second to respond.
“The stronger you get, the closer the hour when I name the price of my heart becomes.”
Hadjar bowed low, pressing his forehead to the cold earth, and said:
“Whatever task you give me, Master, I’ll gladly carry it out. Everything I have I owe to your sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice,” Traves chuckled. “For hundreds of thousands of years, I lay in that cave, unable to even move. You helped me escape, disciple, from my own prison. And I made you pay to do so... There was no honor in what I did.”
“You died for me, Master.”
“Sometimes death is better than life.” The wind blew harder, ruffling the dragon’s hair and robes. “Your time has come, disciple. Leave me. Battle awaits you.”
Hadjar didn’t have time to answer before he disappeared.
Traves watched the even stronger gust of wind that followed turn the young man into fog, which it then carried up to the heavens. Traves was once more alone on the hill. He enjoyed the wind and the smell of grass.
Hundreds of thousands of years... It was a white lie he’d told Hadjar in order to not frighten his disciple. During the millions of years that Traves had spent imprisoned in the cave, he’d managed to go crazy and claw his way back to sanity dozens of times. He’d invented entire worlds within his mind and destroyed them. He’d talked to himself, inventing a host of diverse personalities. He’d relived his life over and over again, always ending up at the same spot. He hadn’t been alive. He had been dead for eons. In exchange for his freedom, he’d awarded Hadjar with a fate that would lead him to certain doom. No mortal, no matter how brilliant they were, could handle such an immense burden...
“Don’t be so certain he’ll fail, reptile.”
The sky, which had been blue and clear a moment ago, descended. It’d turned gray, and the clouds had become dark. The wind was now icy. A black bird flapped its wings right in front of Traves. It looked like a mix between a falcon and a crow, and it was seemingly grooming its sharp feathers, which looked like blades.
“You’ve gotten pretty brazen, Enemy,” Traves growled.
“Brazen?” The bird’s voice rang out like an alarm bell. “You’re only a guest here, nothing more. Don’t get ahead of yourself, reptile. While I do let you teach him, that doesn’t mean I’ll put up with your insolence.”
The dragon’s eyes flashed with fury. He slowly got up, and as he did so, his appearance changed: his green robes turned into frightening armor, his horns curled into a helmet, his nails turned into claws, and a massive halberd appeared in his hands.
“Begone, Enemy!” Traves’ lips didn’t move, but the sky nearly split in half from the force of his roar.
The bird made a sound that resembled a croaking laugh.
“Does a pathetic Lord dare to order me about?”
The bird didn’t even move, only its red eyes flashed. Traves bent under the pressure of an incredible power. His armor cracked. His horns broke off, and his halberd flew out of his grasp. He, a being that had rebelled against the Dragon Emperor, was now lying flat on the ground, unable to move. Perhaps if he’d assumed his true form, he could’ve resisted the shackles of this alien power. However…