Chapter 335 first draft (so like, maybe worse than unedited.) (Patreon)

The ending is a little lacklustre atm, mostly because my original plan is gonna be way too long. I'll write the rest of it and see if i can find a nicer place to end, (or nicer way), and we'll do that.


https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rr3NomyEV1PqaBAiGIkBjdWpVt6wLck1E0pSatJAUXg/edit?usp=sharing

Mind reeling from Dastan’s utterly domineering performance, I’m left with one single question rattling around my brain.

What in the actual fuck?

Okay two questions. Has Dastan been holding back in our spars? Watching him run circles around Hideo was ans eye-opening master class in evasion and defence. Make no mistake, the beefy, pale-faced Flower Knight put on an impressive show with his powerful charges and sweeping blows, but Dastan’s performance was utterly sublime, ducking, dodging, and weaving around the older warrior before seizing victory with a single blow. Breathless and exhilarated, my triumphant friend returns to my side wearing the silliest of smiles after proving his worth by running Hideo around like a clown. The crowd has yet to settle down as even the people of Central cannot contain their mirth, and infected by their good cheer, I grin and bring Dastan in for a one-armed hug. “Well done,” I Send, and nothing more needs to be said.

When the cheering finally dies down, I head to centre stage to meet the other competitors and redraw our numbers. While we could go ahead with our current arrangement, I already said we’d redraw before hand because of the whole ‘odd person out’ thing, and if I alter the arrangement, it’ll look like I’m trying to avoid Wu Gam by fighting Yan instead. Truth be told, while I would rather leave him for last, I don’t really want to fight Yan either, but whatever will be, will be.

Who knows? Maybe Yan’s been hiding her skills and will be next to awe us all. Maybe this is gonna be harder than I thought...

No words are exchanged as we draw our numbers and Yan purposely keeps her distance by standing on the other side of Wu Gam. The half-fox warrior takes it in stride, though his flattened ears and sneaky glances in her direction tells me there’s more to it than that. Are they friends? Do they chat and spar together like Yan and I used to? I mean, they’re both in the Hwarang, both the only two demi-humans competing in our impromptu tournament, and both making a name for themselves in Central where racial tensions run the hottest, so they have a lot in common. As luck would have it, the two of them draw the numbers three and four respectively, so I suppose I’ll see how well they get along soon enough.

This is weird and uncomfortable and I don’t like it. When Yan left, I told her to live her life, enjoy herself, meet new people and chase her dreams, but now that she has, I can’t help feeling jealous about it. It’s stupid, we were never an item and I never made my feelings clear, but seeing her again has brought all the memories of our awkward, teenaged, war-torn romance flooding back, not to mention all the guilt. Am I a horrible person for having feelings for a third woman? Lin and Mila are so good to me and either one is already more than I deserve, yet here I am pouting because Yan isn’t throwing herself at me. She didn’t even bring Zabu or Shana on stage with her, riding a stupid white horse instead. I get that she’s trying to distance herself from the Bekhai, though I have no idea why, but I miss the big angry floof, bad breath and all. How many pups did he have with Shana? They’re probably a little more than a year old now which means they’re the perfect size for cuddling, just big enough to squeeze and love. Stupid Du Min Gyu and his stupid politics, I thought he was a big shot in Central. Why’s he gotta be all sneaky like and avoid the Bekhai? Public opinion? That’s weak man, popularity shouldn’t matter when you’re like a hundred years old, you sho-

“Er boss?” Snapping out of my fugue, I glance up to see Dastan’s questioning look, wondering why I’ve returned from centre stage. “You’re up first.”

Fuck. “I know,” I say, a little more sharply than intended. Taking a deep breath, I calm my mind and scramble for an excuse. “I’m here, uh... for my new weapon!” Yes, perfect. Pushing through my retinue to towards the back, I give Mafu a pat on the nose as I reclaim my leather-wrapped weapon, unveiling Unity for all of Nan Ping to see. Left in it’s axe form for easier transport, I decide to keep its transformation a surprise and head back to meet my foe, giving the shiny new weapon a couple of practice swings while I go. The unfamiliar weight fills me with trepidation as I struggle to Reinforce enough to hold it one-handed, the task demanding every scrap of concentration I have. Why is this so hard? It used to be so much easier to walk and Reinforce... Maybe I should keep both hands on the weapon, but it’s not a style I’m used to. The binding ceremony was helpful and all, but like waking from a dream, the memories are vague and ethereal, more of a concept in my mind than actual experience. This marks the first time I’ll use my new weapon in an actual spar, with Tranquility still strapped to my wrist no less, but my opponent is the Southern paper tiger Dienne, so it shouldn’t matter too much.

Gladdened by the prospect of bashing someone’s head in, I bow to the Legate before turning to my thin-moustached opponent with a grin. Not sharing in my good humour, Dienne looks down his nose at me and sneers in disdain. “You were fortunate enough to be paired against the woman in your first bout, but I will show the Empire your true worth, runt.”

Since the Crier isn’t repeating Dienne’s words for all of Nan Ping to hear, I feel safe indulging in a little trash talk. “Big words coming from a man who was matched up against his underling. You didn’t even bother putting on a show, just had him turn around and present his ass. Seemed rather adept at it too. Probably wasn’t his first time either. It’s because he does the same thing when you’re alone at night, right? Don’t worry, you can admit it. No judgment here, love is a beautiful thing.”

I’ll never understand the mentality of those who can dish it out but can’t take it. Red-faced and veins throbbing, Dienne growls through bared teeth and raises his giant scimitar over his shoulder, readying to chop me down with a single blow. Regretting my decision to use Unity, I rest the axe-head against the platform and hold it defensively before me, not exactly sure how else to use it.

Ah no, Dienne’s going to chop downwards so I should hold it horizontally to block.

While my weapon is in transition, the Crier shouts, “...Begin!”, and Dienne makes his move, his blade moving in an overhead arc just as I expected. Abandoning my initial plan, I allow Unity’s head to drop to the platform and step forward and kneel so the haft is overhead. The impact hammers home and I hunker down, bracing myself to keep Unity from smacking into the crown of my head. Metal on metal screeches as I Deflect the Amplified blow aside, scraping along my axe handle and into the platform to slice through wood and rope like a hot knife through butter. While Dienne recovers, I charge forward to end our match, forgetting how heavy Unity actually is. Moving slower than expected, my ponderous swing leaves my opponent plenty of time to skip back out of range, leaving me overextended and vulnerable to his counter.

With a low stance, Dienne begins a giant horizontal swing but this time Unity is on the wrong side of my body to block it. Going with the momentum, I vault over my weapon in an aerial cartwheel, saving myself from a world of pain as I land just in time to catch Dienne’s strike with the handle. Stumbling across the platform, I take a half-dozen steps back before finding my footing, suffering from the lack of Deflection as my hands go numb and stomach roils at the Reverberations. Directing the forces outward with a vigorous exhale, the residual power from Dienne’s blow is enough to tear my new shirt, the seams bursting apart at the shoulders from the violent discharge and leaving my back muscles twitching in pain.

Okay, so maybe not a paper tiger after all. He still has a shitty moustache though.

After ripping the dangling sleeves off, I heft Unity into both hands and give it a small twirl, trying to hide my trembling arms. Okay genius. How are you gonna deal with this? Charge in and stop his swing with a blow to the shoulder? You could, but that’s playing to his strengths and incredibly risky. Throw your axe at him and go back to sword and shield? Too slow, he’ll be on you before you can loose, and even if he doesn’t move, you can’t block his attacks with one hand. Dodge the attack? Sure, let me just put on my fancy feet and turn into Dastan.

Why are you having so much trouble? Dienne hasn’t demonstrated any flashy moves. In fact, thus far, he’s really only used the one, putting all his strength into a single massive, Reinforced, Amplified, and Reverberating slash. If he misses or his opponent counters, then he’s pretty much fucked, but that’s easier said than done. After seeing Yan deal with his subordinate’s attack with a flick of her wrist, I’m shocked by how powerful this move really is. Either Dienne is much stronger than his bodyguard or Yan has a forearm of steel and perfect timing with Deflection.

Okay, let's come at this from a different angle. What are Dienne’s weaknesses? His one move isn’t exactly mobile or meant for duelling, more for holding a static position against overwhelming numbers. Oh my god, his style is tailored towards killing multiple charging opponents at once you doofus. It’s meant for defending against a horde of Defiled! If he coordinates with his two bodyguards, they could probably hold a section of wall for hours using different variations of this one move, cleaving through flesh and bone and clearing their attackers away with every swing. I bet all the southern elites learn to fight like this, putting teamwork over individual accomplishment when it comes to the defence of their province. It’s probably how they held their Wall, and also why Dienne came here with two nameless soldiers, because they fought side by side and earned their accomplishments as a team.

Oops. Guess I owe him an apology.

While I reflect on my mistakes, Dienne slides forward inch by inch, his front foot planted in place and always ready to swing, ignoring my feints and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Unable to come up with a plan, I’ve no choice but to retreat before him, circling about for the better part of a minute while Nan Ping slowly grows bored by our dancing. Ignore the jeering and focus. What are the odds you win a mutual exchange? Not high, his swing is much faster than your, even though his weapon is probably equally as heavy. It’s not because of pure arm strength, but technique. He puts his whole body into the swing, everything from his toes to his shoulders and everything in between contributing to the attack. That’s not all either, at the moment of impact he does a push-pull sort of motion with his hands, the upper hand pushing the hilt away while the bottom one pulls it towards him.

Can I replicate it?

...

Maybe?

Now’s probably not the time to experiment though.

“Hmph.” Voice dripping with smug superiority, Dienne continues his snail-like advance. “Is this all the great Falling Rain has to offer? I’m rather disappointed.”

“New Spiritual Weapon,” I reply, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Figured you’d be a good test subject for it.”

It’s ridiculous how easy it is to needle him, his moustache quivering as he chokes on his rage. After a long second, he snarls and says, “Allow me to offer you a word of advice. Don’t bind that eyesore of axe and throw it away. It brings shame to the Empire through its mere existence. If this is the best they have to offer, then it would appear the North is lacking in both talented warriors and craftsmen.”

My mind blanks and vision goes red as I charge forward and catch Dienne off-guard. The butt of my axe connects heavily with his shoulder, interrupting his attack mid-swing. Tranquility smashes into his face once, twice, and again, leaving him with a ringing head and chipped teeth. Booting him in the stomach, the air shoots from his lungs as his body skids across the platform. Leaping after my fallen foe, I raise Unity above my head bring it down with a two-handed swing. Barely missing Dienne as he rolls away, he tries to bring his scimitar to bear, but with a roar of rage, I bash it aside and knock it out of his hands. After kneeing him in the face, I stomp on his shin and I’m rewarded with a meaty crack and a scream of pain, his eyes rolling back for a moment before refocusing on the head of my axe, pressed into the hollow of his neck and forcing him to look me in the eye. Struggling to hold my temper, I growl, “Count yourself lucky my betrothed didn’t hear you disparage her work, else you’d suffer far worse than a broken leg.”

Insult me all you want, but talk shit about Mila’s wonderful work? Hell no. You’ll be lucky if I kill you before Mila breaks all your bones and feeds you to her forge.

Besides, my axe is awesome... fuck all these haters...

Taking no satisfaction from my victory, I bow to the Legate and return to my retinue, with anger still burning hot in my chest. Damn it, I shouldn’t have broken his leg like that, not without giving him a chance to yield. Now I feel bad, because I’m the asshole now. This isn’t no good, I can’t keep letting my darker nature take over. It might make me stronger, but if this keeps up, it’s only a matter of time before the Spectres are back, and I don’t have Baledagh to take the blame or Blobby to keep me clean anymore.

The applause for my victory is scattered and weak, with none present too impressed by my frenzied assault. While strength is everything, these spars are about more than winning and for the first time, I understand why. It’s about showing your skill and superiority, and why you deserve the title of Number one talent in the Empire. Even though I came out on top, it was more luck than skill considering the risks I took. The way they see it, if we fought again, it’d still be even odds on who wins, nothing like the overbearing victories claimed by Yan, Dastan, or Wu Gam.

I need something cute and cuddly to hug.

After much rough treatment, the platform looks like its ready to fall apart, but the Legate came prepared. Calling for an intermission, we stand around and watch as servants run in and replace the crumbling areas with new sections of undamaged rafts. Working with well-practised efficiency, they finish their repairs in a matter of minutes, leaving the platform in tip-top shape for Wu Gam and Yan’s bout.

I mean, it’s not exactly a self-regenerating stage, but close enough I guess.

Forcing myself to focus on something other than Yan’s booty, I study the deadpan Wu Gam instead. Truly a fearsome competitor, this young demi-human will be a tough nut to crack, easily fending off Yong-Jin’s fearsome assault with little to no effort. Most people think a staff is for peasants and it kind of is, but a proper war-staff is a whole different beast. The lack of a bladed head allows for better balance and it doesn’t really matter if a staff doesn’t pierce your flesh if it crushes all your bones instead. As for Wu Gam himself, his expression leaves no clues to his inner thoughts, but his twitching silver-furred fox ears give him away. He’s obviously troubled by something or the other. Judging back the way he keeps looking away from his opponent’s face, I’d wager it’s because someone has a crush on Yan. Can’t blame him either, Yan is... your friend. No more objectifying her. Stop it. Bad libido.

On the other side, Yan’s lost her flirty smile and fluttering lashes, taking this match more seriously than her last. Unsheathing her sword, she flourishes it about before taking her stance, shield forward and sword at her side. Rather than a standard double-edged jian so popular with Central’s nobles, Yan’s second Spiritual Weapon is a little more exotic, bearing a distinctive wavy-edged blade and a concave-edged tip, sort of like a butterfly’s wings. As she moves it about, I notice the blade is not only wider at the tip than the base, but also almost paper flat. A lightweight cutting weapon shaped light a sword? Even if Honing does most of the work, a sharp time and heavier blade go a long way towards increasing power. I can’t exactly see why such an exotic design is necessary, but I bet Mila could explain.

Yan’s six-pointed shield and weird, wavy sword won’t win in a head on clash with Wu Gam’s heavy stone staff, but my worries are all for naught. As if having read my mind, Yan’s strategy is straight out of my playbook, taking her distance the moment the match begins. Standing in place with his staff resting against the platform, Wu Gam gazes at Yan with a forlorn expression. “You should yield,” he says, his voice higher pitched and more melodic than expected. “You cannot win.”

Eyebrow twitching, Yan purses her lips and narrows her eyes, annoyed by his patronizing tone. Flashing an insincere smile, Yan replies, “I’ll speak slowly so you understand, you hard-headed halfwit. Victory or defeat can only be determined after a match is fought.”

Okay, so they’re not friends. Hooray!

...Now I feel bad for Yan. Did she not make any friends while she was here?