《When Kings Die》
An Unexpected Fortune
Stepping off the wooden boat came as a relief to Jebe. The tossing, turning, and creaking had come to such a state of perpetuity that he had begun to have dreams of being on a boat that also tossed, turned, and creaked. Therefore, when he finally stepped off onto the dock with all the other boys and felt that solid ground beneath him, the smile that broke across his face was one of genuine relief.
Lifting one foot past the other, he walked down the rest of the dock and came to a bustling street. Unlike the shabby wooden boat that he arrived in, the street was paved with cobblestone and had a great variety of men, women, and beasts traversing its clean grey visage. The buildings on the other side of the street were pastel colored and made of some sort of local clay.
At any other time, Jebe would feel out of place in a city such as this. The people walking around were paler-faced than him, skinnier too. Their clothing was brightly covered and reveled things that his mother back home would had made off-hand comments about. The locals were akin to pedigreed dogs, and Jebe a wild stray who was scratching at their door.
But it was the Spring, and in the Spring the Leo Academy opened its door for two months to recruit new students. So, behind Jebe trailed a horde of equally bedraggled boys, wearing equally shabby clothes. Jebe, along with these boys, were all eager-eyed fourteen year olds with high expectations of a paid military life. Some even dreamed of joining as a proper student and working their way up towards nobility. Jebe did not hold such aspirations. Nobility was something best left to dreamers, and dreaming was not in his nature.
A triple length wagon led by two white oxen, and with the words Leo Academy painted across its side in italic scrawl, pulled up before him. This wagon only existed for two months of the year, for the purpose of carrying new students from the harbor to the hill. Afterwards it would be locked in some dank garage with other forgettable items.
¡°All men, and woman heading to the Leo Academy Recruitment Center, board now!¡± Shouted the driver in a loud and practiced manner.
Jebe lifted his tired, tan leg up high and placed it on the outside wagon step. Reaching his hand atop the inside rim of the wagon ceiling, he pulled his short stocky frame inside and took a seat beside the door. Sitting near exits was habitual for him, always had been. It was something he had acquired from his grandfather, an old frontier scout that felt more at home on horseback in the open prairie then in his own bedroom.
The rest of the boys entered in labored huffs. Most of them had been on the ferry with Jebe, which meant they had been short on food and water these last few days. The wagon took off as soon as it was full, leaving a few jealous boys to watch its shadow fade and wait on the next one.
As the wagon careened along the bumpy stone road, Jebe peered outside the window and admired Leo City. It was his first long trip away from home for anything other than a hunting expedition, and he was curious about the new sights and smells. Where he came from, it was uncommon to see anyone other than a relative within a 10 kilometer radius. It seemed here that you were unlikely to be alone within a 10-meter radius. Adjustments would be gradual at best.
Taking a winding route, the wagon first exited the harbor, then passed through a series of residential districts, dipped past a marketplace, and finally worked its way up a large hill to an undiscernible building in the distance.
¡°I damn sure hope my spirit is a rank 2,¡± said a voice to Jebe¡¯s left.
Jebe turned towards the voice and spotted a young man in worn trousers with black mattered hair and some dirt caked upon his cheeks. He had green eyes with scrunched eyebrows displaying his nervousness.
¡°Be a hell of a waste to come all the way out here only to get rejected at the gates,¡± the boy continued.
¡°You didn¡¯t check before coming?¡± Asked another boy, this one shorter and skinnier.
¡°Nah, didn¡¯t have the money for it. My father was a solider with a low rank 3 spirit, though and my mom was a peak rank 2. It should be high enough,¡± the boy responded. ¡°Just a frightening thought is all.¡±
A couple of the other boys nodded their heads in quiet agreement. While some of these lads had tested their spirits before making the journey, the majority came out here without doing so. Testing costs a lot of money, and money was distant existence to them all. These boys were as likely to find a dragon scale or a unicorn horn as they were to chance upon a gold coin. Besides, most people had rank 2 spirits, and rank 3 was nearly as common as rank 1. The chances of not getting accepted were really quite low. Jebe too had never tested his spirit.
The wagon lurched to its expectedly unexpected halt and Jebe grasped the seat below him with his thick knuckles to prevent lurching forward.
¡°Out!¡± said the wagon driver.
The boys shuffled through the exit in a haphazard line. None of them spoke much other than a few nervous jokes followed by forced chuckles. All too suddenly, the future had become the present and the present always had a feeling of heaviness to it.
Stepping out in to the grand courtyard, Jebe sucked in a much-needed breath. Before him stood what appeared to be thousands of people milling about, noisily arguing, laughing, and chattering. Some of them looked poor like Jebe, but just as many were dressed in colorful finery with jewelry made from gemstones whose name he could not pronounce.
This bipartisan mob of military and scholastic hopefuls was loosely organized in to ten lines. Each line led to a raised stone platform, in the middle of which rested an orb upon a black iron pedestal. On the other side of these platforms sat trios of judges. The judges donned the golden and azure colors of Leo Academy. Two of them wore gowns and one of them wore a military uniform. Jebe took this to mean that two of the judges were teachers, and one was an officer. At first, he found this surprising since the military academy was far larger than the martial school, but soon came to the conclusion that most military men would not be here but instead serving on the Eastern border. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
He gingerly walked over to what seemed like the shortest line and waited impatiently for his turn. From where he stood, he could hear the shouts of disappointment and exhilaration from the participants ¨C a hallowing mixture of joy and despair For many, these tests were an awakening moment. It was when they realized that they are not so special afterall; except perhaps to their mother and dog. They are just another insignificant mortal needlessly crowding the world.
Spirits were upsetting like that. They played such a large role in one¡¯s life, they were often the deciding factor between fortune and misfortune. Yet they were completely uncontrollable. You could read all the books about them in the world. You could know different spirits like the back of your hands, but that doesn¡¯t mean you can choose which one you had. It was Heaven¡¯s Will.
That¡¯s what the old folks called it. Fame and fortune, or despair and destitution were all controlled by an amoral Heaven¡¯s Will. It was, in a way, both terrifying and comforting. The acceptance that if you screwed up it is not entirely your fault.
The line advanced slowly and methodically. Gradually the crowd slithered forward and vanished like a snake disappearing down some unremarkable black hole. Except this hole was remarkable, as it would decide their future. Soon Jebe would go down that hole too.
¡°Next,¡± a voice spoke.
Jebe stepped forward onto the stone platform and stood shakily before the testing stone.
¡°Name?¡± One of the robed judges asked.
¡°Jebe.¡±
The judge scribbled down something on a piece of paper. ¡°Are you attempting to enter the Military Academy or the Martial School?¡± He inquired.
¡°Military Academy,¡± Jebe responded.
The man nodded in response and wrote down a few more things before leaning back and waving his hand casually, ¡°proceed.¡±
Jebe nodded and forced a conscious swallow. He raised his hand and let it linger in the air for a moment before slowly placing it on the testing stone. He needed at least rank 2 to join the academy and 3 if he wanted any level of respect. Anything above that wasn¡¯t a possibility. Rank 4 and 5 spirits were something that only noble clans with carefully cultured bloodlines had. And above that? Well, those were the chosen sons of Heaven, the kings, queens, generals, and emperors of the world.
As his hand came in contact with the cool stone orb it began to swirl with colors and hum lightly, but nothing significant took place. Jebe felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Could his spirit be this weak? What if he had a low rank 1 spirit? He would have no future at all if that were so. He would be forced to become fodder for some well-to-do noblemen.
¡°Press harder, please,¡± said the middle judge with a trace of annoyance in his voice.
Jebe let out a relieved sigh before pushing his hand down more firmly upon the stone, wrapping his fingers around its edges. Suddenly he could feel a faint sliver of something wholly unnatural sneak it way up through his hand, past his arm, before diving into his dantian.
There, it separated into tens of thousands of minute strands that scoured his meridians.
They were like phantom fingers running through his veins, searching desperately for his spirit. Beads of sweat rolled down Jebe¡¯s neck as he waited nervously for those strands of energy to find their target. To determine his worth.
Suddenly Jebe felt an overwhelming sense of terror as ancient, primal existence seemed to awaken within his meridians. This was an existence not to be respected, but to be feared. To be looked at with trepidation and terror. In his mind, Jebe saw a world of endless twisting shadows and cackling voices. Within this world, there existed a hegemonic being forged from the fears of its own inhabitants. Jebe felt himself being drawn deeper into this world, and closer to this being of endless shadows. Then, the being opened its great mouth and let out a sky shattering neigh, awakening Jebe from his trance.
When he opened his eyes all the judges, and even the people behind him in line, were staring at him in shock and fear. The orb had turned a deep onyx black with crimson swirls running through it. Above the orb was projected a gargantuan shadowy beast with charcoal eyes and red fire spilling from its nostrils.
¡°That... that¡¯s a Nightmare Steed!¡± Shouted a robed judge who had stood up at some point.
Nightmare Steed Jebe repeated slowly in his mind.
¡°Nightmare Steed? I¡¯ve heard of that!¡± An older man off to the side said. ¡°That¡¯s a peak rank 7 existence!¡±
¡°Rank 7?¡± Jebe repeated. Everything Jebe believed he knew about the world slowly turned upside down as he heard those words.
¡°Jebe,¡± started the first judge with a noticeably kinder tone than earlier, ¡°with a spirit like that, you have no need to join the military. The Martial School will accept you with open arms. We will waive the entrance fee and pay for boarding,¡± he said amicably.
Jebe grew excited. People who joined the Martial School had far higher prospects than those who joined the military. They would receive training from top-notch instructors and would mingle daily with nobility and clan descendants. It was a fast track to success.
He was just about to accept when the military judge who had been silent up to this point spoke up, ¡°the Leo military will pay you two golds coins a year as a stipend.¡± His initial offer stunned the chattering crowd in to silence. The entire entrance fee to join the Martial School was only two golds coins, so for the Military Academy to offer Jebe four times that amount was obviously shocking.
¡°Furthermore, upon graduation you will immediately be conferred the rank of captain instead of Second Lieutenant.¡± With that said the cowed audience exploded in to excited conversation once more
The rank of captain is wholly different than that of second lieutenant. A captain will lead a company of 100 troops, which would immediately make Jebe someone of note within the Kingdom of Leo. A first or second lieutenant is little different from aids to their captain, they are arms used by the captain to better organize his troops. The respect Jebe would command with this position was not slight.
¡°That¡¯s two paygrades higher, right?¡± Jebe quietly inquired.
¡°Uhm, what? Yes, yes, it is two paygrades higher,¡± responded the officer after a moment of confusion. ¡°A second lieutenant receives ten silver a month, whilst a captain receives fifty. It is a very sizeable increase.¡±
¡°I accept!¡± Jebe declared with a beaming grin displayed across his formerly steely face.
The judges from the Martial School were both confused and caught off guard, they were about to make a counter offer when the kid suddenly accepted. Why did he accept?
A twinkle of understanding could be seen in the officer¡¯s eye as he came to terms with how to interact with Jebe. ¡°Good!¡± The captain responded enthusiastically. ¡°You can report to the quartermaster and receive the standard supplies.¡± He then quickly scribbled on a piece of paper and signed it at the bottom. ¡°Hand him this as well for your special accommodations.
¡°Yes, sir!¡± Responded Jebe.
The officer smiled at Jebe¡¯s quick uptake of the lingo. ¡°Train hard cadet, if you do well in the monthly tournament you will be able receive a bonus.¡±
The other teachers seemed confused at why this officer was already mentioning the monthly tournament but a gleam of excitement could be seen on Jebe¡¯s face.
¡°Yes, sir. I will do my very best to honor both you and the army corps in the monthly tournament.¡±
A wry smile could be seen on the other two teachers faces as they came to understand why the officer had said that. It appeared the army¡¯s new prodigy was a bit of a money-grubber. It is obvious then that the boy would end up with them, whatever connections the Martial School may have it could not compare to the military¡¯s offers.
¡°Go then,¡± said the officer, ¡°get settled in quickly, because your training starts tomorrow.
¡°I¡¯m looking forward to it, sir.¡± Jebe replied in earnest.
First Day of Training
The quartermaster supplied Jebe with a simple assortment of necessities. This included bedding, two pairs of shoes, five different uniforms, a standard six-inch knife, a cultivation manual, an iron pot, and a large leather satchel. He was told that all the other supplies would be given out at the appropriate time.
His bed was a dismal combination of wood and straw. Jebe thought that it was not much better than what some of the three-horned goats back home laid on inside back home (?). For the first time, but not the last time, he wondered if joining the Military Academy instead of the Martial School was a mistake. Yet quick money was his goal and his grandfather would lose his mind if he joined up with, ¡°those prissy pale skinned bastards,¡± as he called them.
The rest of the barrack was not too bad. It was a wide room for how many men were in it, and enough sun was let through the four windows that it stayed decently lit. The floor creaked with each step, but at the same time, it was so worn that Jebe could walk across it barefoot if he felt so inclined.
The other boys inside had all joined over the last few days. Jebe was the last one; he completed their squad of ten. He learned that they would go by the designate of First Year 14th Squad. Although seeing as they will rarely interact with the upperclassmen he was told they will usually just go under the moniker of 14th Squad. It was a professionally dull title, as were most names in the military.
His squad mates were all nice enough. They were young, boisterous, and ready to prove themselves. Each one of them seemed caught between the desire to become a famous warrior and to become popular in school. They were too young to be anything but ambitious and put too poor to realize those ambitions. Jebe imagined that the reality of military life would bleed out their idealism like a wet rag slowly being twisted dry.
There were two boys in the squad who stood out as something different. One of them was a tall, slender boy with long, silver hair and high cheekbones. He looked like the type of man that would drive women crazy. When that was combined with his upright posture and graceful gait, Jebe imagined that this was one of, ¡°those prissy pale skinned bastards.¡± It was curious that he was training to be a soldier like the rest of them rather than a knight, mage, or some other safe, noble position.
The other person who stood out was more man than boy. He stood at least 6ft tall and had a jaw that could probably be used as an anvil. His muscles were large and bulging beneath his tight military uniform, and he had these heavyset blue eyes that seemed to stare right through you. Basically, he was the last person you would ever want to meet in a dark alley.
Jebe compared himself to them. Jebe was short, only about 5¡¯2¡± but confident that he would grow in time. His body was stocky and darkly tanned from years working the farm with his mother and hunting on horseback with his grandfather. His eyes were a rusty brown with a tint of orange around his pupils. His gaze was accentuated by his thick eyebrows that hovered above his eyes. His hair was a thick, coarse affair and black as night. He had grown used to keeping it short with his knife because his mom¡¯s horse, Moon, had a bad biting habit. His jaw was wider than most but not especially noteworthy overall. As opposed to a dark alley nightmare, Jebe seemed more like the tough guy from the local tavern. Not too memorable at a glance, but not someone you want to spill your drink on.
As he laid down to get an early rest, he began imaging scenarios where he might have to fight the blonde behemoth. If he could get close enough to the man, he could land full blows while his opponent could not. The risk there would be if the man grabbed Jebe, his advantage in sheer muscle mass would be overwhelming. Perhaps a game of feints and trick would be more applicable? Jebe fell asleep perfecting mental images of crotch shots and eye gouges.
Morning came with a piercing light that shone through the Eastern window and landed across Jebe¡¯s face in an act of perfect annoyance. He awoke squinting and grumbling.
¡°All cadets, outside!¡± a baritone voice shouted. The other boys sat up and looked at each other in lethargic confusion. ¡°Right now cadets! Now! Now! Now!¡± The voice shouted with increasing ardor.
Jebe hastily tossed on his standard uniform, brushed his teeth, and hopped through the door to line up outside. Within a few minutes, all ten of 14th Squad¡¯s members were in line staring at a scarred, middle aged man in military garb with an iron rod hanging from his hip and a banner in his hand.
¡°Four minutes,¡± the man said. ¡°Too slow. Next time I expect you to be out here in two minutes. Your lunch is halved today, if it happens again you will have no lunch.¡±
Jebe grimaced but nodded his head in acceptance. He knew these kinds of things would be common around here, and he was willing to suffer for success.
¡°My name is Henry and I will be the instructor of your squad. You will not refer to me as Henry, but ¡®sir¡¯. Do you understand?¡± he asked.
¡°Yes, sir.¡± Everyone immediately replied in unison.
¡°I have in my left hand here your banner,¡± Henry said, while raising a gold and azure banner with the Leo numeral for fourteen above his head. ¡°Since I hold this banner, it means I am your leader and you will follow my example to the upmost. If you aren¡¯t as dumb as you look, you will have seen the silver lion mark on my shoulder, that means I am an officer. Therefore, you will follow all of my orders to the upmost,¡± he said. ¡°Are we clear?¡±
¡°Yes, sir!¡± all the boys replied loudly.
¡°Good. These next two weeks will be grueling. You will be tested in every way imaginable, and pushed to your limits. At the end of these two weeks you will all decide among yourselves who you want to carry your squad banner. The chosen cadet will be your squad leader for the next four years and will serve, in a sense, as your captain. Benefits to this position are small, a greater degree of attention by the officers mostly, that is not always a good thing, cadets.¡±
The young boys looked around trying to take a measure of each other. Rather obviously, the giant among them seemed to win their adolescent staring contests. It was interesting that the silver haired men did not even bother to compare himself. He was either supremely confident or supremely uninterested. Jebe tried to puff up his chest as he looked at the big man but all he got in response was a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
¡°Think you¡¯re big, fucker?¡± Jebe whispered under his breathe, ¡°If I can break a buck I can break your blonde ass.¡±
¡°I recommend that you choose wisely for this position,¡± said Henry. ¡°More than someone strong and smart, you want someone loyal to the squad. Often times, this person will represent your squad in meetings and have a large influence on how your squad is treated,¡± Henry recommended. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get to training.¡±
The rest of the morning passed through in a manner that Jebe would soon become familiar with. First they all headed to the wash hall, which was a collection of outdoor showers and plumbing. They were given about fifteen minutes to wash up, shit, and shave. Jebe did his best to flex as he walked around but he didn¡¯t think anyone paid much attention. He wished he had a few more scars.
Afterwards, they went to the mess hall with all the other squads for a breakfast of meat, beans, and some sort of mixed juice that the officers swore by. It caused Jebe to swear other things.
Following breakfast, they split up from the other squads again and went for a jog in the mountains. Henry said it would be quick, but ten miles in the mountains felt a lot longer than ten miles on flat ground. Unfortunately, there were a few stragglers who took too long to finish the course, so nobody received their much desired half-lunch.
Then they rejoined with all the other squads again and listened to a guest brigadier general give a speech on military tactics. He was an infantry commander and a veteran on leave from the Philonial War. He would be the freshman primary instructor for the first month before switching with someone else. He would cover basic infantry strategies and tactics.
It was then, after showering, breakfast, running, and a dissertation, that the fun part began. Henry lead them to a stone courtyard carved out of the mountain valley. The ground was almost tile-like, light grey and dark grey stones intermixed in a pleasing pattern, like spots on a dog.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Surrounding the courtyard was a varied assortment of weapon racks and training dummies. On the racks were swords, sabers, axes, spears, shields, and even maces.
¡°Here you will learn the bread a butter of soldiering,¡± said Henry, ¡°discipline.¡± He slapped the iron rod atop the palm of his hand and stared down he squad. Jebe swallowed.
A smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes snuck forth from Henry¡¯s face. ¡°Just kidding,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re all going to learn how to fight.¡±
Jebe exhaled with relief. He did not ever want to experience the kind of damage Henry could deal with that rod of his. Learning to fight, however, that was pretty interesting.
For many of the boys, this is what they were most exited for. A chance to wield weapons and be trained by a real soldier. All of these boys had grown up idolizing famous warriors, and this was their chance to become one.
¡°Before any of you get bright ideas about grabbing whatever weapon you desire and swinging it around like you just discovered your dick, let me give you some instruction,¡± said Henry.
Jebe laughed with the rest of the boys before quieting down. He was beginning to enjoy the vulgar, gruff humor that the officers practiced around here. It reminded him of his grandpa after three rounds at the tavern.
¡°For all of your first year training, you will only practice the sword and the longbow,¡± Henry said. ¡°It is only in your second year that weapon specialization will begin. While the academy is training officers, you still must be familiar with basic soldiering. We are not like those rich shits in the Martial School who are unlikely to ever see the front lines. Once you all graduate you are going to be in the thick of it.¡±
Jebe narrowed his eyes as these words.
¡°If you want to survive out there, you need to be ready,¡± Henry spoke sharply. ¡°Blocking a sword, changing a formation, predicting an ambush, all of these need to be muscle memory. You won¡¯t have time to look up a reference book on the battlefield, your body must know everything already. Only once you¡¯ve mastered the basics will you be allowed to diversify¡±
Jebe decided that this made sense. If he simply picked his favorite weapon and mastered it, he would only know how to defeat himself and the greatly unskilled. He should at least have a faint understanding of other weapons to know how to deal with them.
¡°Now, go pick a sword from the racks. You will be using that sword for the rest of your time here,¡± instructed Henry. Everyone rushed to do so, trying their best to refrain from squabbling over the swords which, ultimately, were all the same make. They were standard issue short swords with sixteen and half inch blades and leather handles, with a round pommel. Jebe grabbed one with a particularly worn looking handle but a well-kept edge.
The first lesson of sword fighting was painfully basic. They took the basic stance with the body turned at a 45-degree angle and the dominant arm forward. The blade was gripped in a similar manner with the dominant hand above the non-dominant hand. Henry insulted their stances and grips to perfection before ordering them all to do 500 downwards chops.
At the beginning Jebe had the chance to look around and compare everyone¡¯s skill. He appeared to be somewhere in the middle of the pack for swordsmanship. He had taken a few lessons from his grandpa in saber fighting, but he spent most his free time using the composite bow and riding Moon. Even if he had practiced a thousand hours with the saber that did not mean all his skill would carry over to the sword. They were different weapons with different methods of use.
As far as Jebe could tell, the best swordsman among the squad was the dainty looking man with the silver hair. Whenever he swung his sword there was a whistling sound that nobody else could imitate. At the end of his swing, the blade stopped perfectly with no shaking at all before he slowly raised it back up again. Furthermore, his stance appeared relaxed and natural, he was not holding the position consciously like Jebe and the rest of the boys. It appeared that he had some sword training prior to joining the academy.
The next best, if you could call it that, was the tan muscular boy. He swung the sword down with a ferocious speed and energy. Each chop looked capable of splitting a man¡¯s skull, and he did not slow down from beginning to end. He was like a great beast with limitless strength and energy. Jebe grew curious about the man¡¯s spirit and imagined it was a high level that amplified his natural attributes.
That got him wondering. His spirit was a being so awesome that he had gotten more than a free ride to the academy and even stunned the evaluating judges. Yet since his spirit¡¯s awakening, he had not felt a bit different.
Normally, upon awakening a spirit, there should be a passive energy that flows from it to the body of its holder. This may increase one¡¯s strength, vitality, speed, endurance, intelligence, or even qi gathering speed. While Jebe hadn¡¯t taken a class on qi gathering yet, he knew there was supposed to be a tingle in his meridians if his spirit specialized in that sort of thing. There definitely was no tingle.
The Nightmare Steed that appeared in his mind was something lord-like and nefarious. It did not seem to be a noble beast, and so, perhaps, the method for drawing power from it would be equally nefarious in nature. Jebe decided then that he would need to go to the library when he got some free time so that he could study different spirits. For now, however, Jebe let that train of thought go as his body was beginning to give in to the fatigue of 500 swings.
It was backbreaking work. Jebe¡¯s arms were tired by the 100th swing, shaking by the 200th and damn near numb by the 300th. Yet he persevered. He stopped his runaway train mind for each swing, and simply committed himself to counting. One stroke after another. Like plowing the field after a morning shower - up, down, up down.
¡°Enough,¡± Henry suddenly spoke. ¡°Well done today cadets, you did our squad proud.¡± Henry showed and uncommonly happy look on his face. ¡°Usually someone gives up on the first day of sword practice but not one of you wimped out. I expect great things from you lot.¡±
The tired group of boys positively beamed at Henry¡¯s unexpected praise. Jebe would have as well, but as it was, he could barely arch his back to look at the man. He decided to refocus what energy he had left on not fainting in front of everyone else.
¡°Take your swords back to the barracks with you, they are yours now. We are done for the day and you may use the evening as you desire. Dismissed!¡± he said.
Jebe twisted his body in a stretch and rolled his shoulders back. This was followed by a loud series of cracking from places in his body that he never even knew existed. The first day was hard. But he knew it would be, so he was not upset by this.
After showering and changing into their lounging uniforms the 14th Squad separated into separate little cliques of commonalities. Some were reading on their beds, others were kicking a ball around outside, and others still were trading contraband goods in the recess of the room. There was also, of course, a good three or four boys passed out early on their beds.
As Jebe sat upon his bed thumbing pointlessly over the pages of the Leo Military Cultivation Arts manual, he heard a sharp whistling sound outside. It peaked his interest as perhaps something more understandable than this jumble of words about qi, blood, jing, and other such confusing concepts.
Stepping outside he heard the sound again from somewhere in the woods. He circled around the barracks towards the noise and gently pushed himself through the thicket of thin branches and wet leaves. Soon he came upon a small grass clearing where the cause of the whistling was laid bare. Literally.
The silver haired boy from before was out here in nothing but tan cotton pants and brown boots. He was swinging the weapon around in a simple but well-practiced manner. His body was sweating profusely with each swing and the whistling sound was soon identified as the boy¡¯s blade cutting through the air. Another downwards chop, then an upwards slash and a quick thrust, continuously the boy struck the air with different techniques in a tantalizing display of swordsmanship.
After several minutes of this the boy stopped and rested his sword on the soft earth as he caught his breath.
¡°I see military training isn¡¯t quite enough for you, eh?¡± Jebe jokingly inquired.
The silver haired boy turned towards him, his delicate features and gray eyes on full display. ¡°It¡¯s not that it is not enough, it is that I am not enough,¡± he responded after some time.
Jebe stared at those eyes for a moment and thought seriously. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± he said.
Quickly, he ran back inside the barracks and grabbed his own sword from its sheath beneath his bed. When he got back to the clearing in the woods the silver haired boy had already started practicing his strikes again.
¡°Care for a sparring partner?¡± Jebe asked.
The silver haired boy stopped once more and look at Jebe. ¡°What? Was military training not enough for you?¡± He responded with heavy sarcasm.
Jebe shrugged and gave the boy a wry grin, ¡°No.¡±
The other boy gawked for a minute then broke out in to a delicate laughter. ¡°I see,¡± he said, ¡°I suppose that is an answer as well.¡±
¡°Come on then, let¡¯s see how good that fancy swordsmanship of yours is.¡± roared Jebe as he leapt towards the boy and performed his downwards chop. Steel met steel and his blade was easily deflected. A split second later the boy had redirected his blade towards Jebe¡¯s throat causing him to backpedal and turn his neck aside. Cold sweat dripped down his back.
The boy¡¯s eyebrows raised in response, ¡°what¡¯s your name?¡± he asked.
¡°Jebe,¡± he spoke between breaths, ¡°yours?¡±
¡°I am Viktor Marfont, third son of the Marfont family.¡± Viktor declared whilst saluting with his sword.
Jebe made an awkward curtsy mixed with a bow before scratching his head in embarrassment. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure what I¡¯m supposed to do here.¡±
¡°Definitely not curtsy,¡± Viktor said pursing his lips, ¡°princess.¡± Yay sexism
Jebe laughed at that before kicking some dirt towards Viktor¡¯s face and throwing a big haymaker of a sword chop towards him, forcing Viktor to block.
¡°Whatever Vik!¡± Jebe said with exaggeration. ¡°I never heard of your family anyways!¡± Before Viktor could respond Jebe began a flurry of aggressive blows, putting Viktor on the defensive.
Viktor eyes widened before he erupted in youthful laughter and responded with an offensive of his own.
The clash of steel mixed with boyish laughter echoed from the forest for the rest of the evening.
The Tenth Soul
Today marked the first day of cultivation lessons. Normal training had been going on for a week now, and all the cadets were becoming more comfortable with life in the academy. They learned that, as long as they did as they were told, and could handle some physical exercise, they weren¡¯t likely to have issues. Nonetheless, the cadets themselves often caused their own issues. As everyone tried to prove why they were worthy of being a squad leader, they all came to the same simple method of elimination ¨C beating their competition in to submission. They were teenage boys after all. By the end of a long week of following orders, physical exercise, and nighttime brawls, three boys in 14th squad had stood out among the rest. Those boys were Samson, Viktor, and Jebe.
Jebe sat down slowly upon a bamboo mat. His body ached from days of training and nights of sparring. He had not taken one day off from sword fighting practice with Vik since he had arrived. The result was a rapid improvement in his skill and a rapid deterioration of his body. Thankfully, his youth allowed him to shake off most bumps and bruises.
Today was the first day of the academy¡¯s special cultivation boot camp. It was a week-long event where they would do nothing but focus on studying and practicing cultivation. Hopefully they would all understand the basics before it was over. Their teacher was an old man who was simply referred to as the sage. Jebe thought it was a bit pompous to refer to yourself as a sage, but Vik frowned at him when he said that.
The sage had a long white beard that touched the ground and a mustache like a koi fish. His face was heavily lined with wrinkles that demonstrated a lifetime of kindliness. He was an odd sort to appear in the military, seemingly more at home in a temple than in a military academy.
Once all members of 14th squad had taken their seats the sage opened his eyes. ¡°Qi Cultivation is the intentional development of life energy,¡± he finally spoke. ¡°Qi is in all living things. Humans, birds, trees, and even insects have qi. The more qi a creature has, the greater its life force. For instance, most bugs only have a sliver of qi and when it is gone, they die. Humans have far more qi and thus live quite a while longer. What we as cultivators aim to do is increase the amount of qi in our body. By doing so, we increase our lifespan and the fitness of our body.¡±
Jebe nodded. He understood these basic concepts. Before his father passed he had taught him how to properly tend to crops so that they absorbed as much qi as possible from the sun and rain. He had even learned how to sense the shape of qi in horses to understand which were calm and which were wild.
¡°The ancient cultivators were unsurpassed in wisdom and foresight. It is they who created the system which allows humans to awaken their spirits at age fourteen. These spirits assist us in our cultivation. Spirits are complex. They are both the real and unreal,¡± said the sage.
A series of quiet coughs and scrunched eyebrows followed that sentence. Jebe had to resist his natural urge to ignore the man¡¯s abstruse words. He had always struggled to accept flowery language as useful, whatever the knowledge behind it.
The sage laughed softly. ¡°I did not say that for purposeless profundity. I said that because it is true. For you see, a human has seven corporeal and three incorporeal souls. All of them are you, but none of them are you in entirety. The you that exists at this moment is a combination of all ten of these souls. When you are born, eight of them are under your control. The seven corporal souls and the primordial incorporeal soul. Your spirit is the second incorporeal soul, which you seized control of in the awakening ceremony.
Jebe thought back to the Nightmare Steed he saw during his interaction with the orb. ¡°So that was my ninth soul,¡± he murmured quietly.
The old man looked towards Jebe as if sensing his thoughts. ¡°Although all humans have equal potential power with their ten souls, one¡¯s ability to draw out that power is dependent on the ninth soul. Some people have stronger ninth soul than others, and are thus able to draw out their power more easily, that is how spirit ranks became established.¡± The old man looked away now.
Jebe could feel the heat of everyone¡¯s gaze upon him. He had done his best to keep quiet about his spirit rank so far but it seemed the old man¡¯s gaze had ignited something that had been buried just below the surface with all his squad mates.
¡°What about the tenth soul?¡± asked Viktor. ¡°How do we gain control of that?¡± Jebe gave Viktor a knowing smile of appreciation which was received with an unconcerned nod.
The old man closed his eyes and nodded his head. ¡°The tenth soul is the true soul. It is the object of ultimate desire for us cultivators. The true soul is different than all other souls. It is unchangeable and immortal.¡± Everyone drew in a breath at this. Jebe had never heard of an immortal soul before.
¡°When the body dies, the seven corporeal souls stay with the body and the three incorporeal souls leave for reincarnation. During this cycle the eighth and ninth soul will change. This is so the three incorporeal soul may more easily enter a new body. After all, no one body is the same as no seven corporeal souls are the same. Thus the eighth and ninth adjust to circumstance. But the tenth does not. The tenth will never change no matter how many reincarnations it undergoes. That is why it is considered the true soul.¡±
Jebe felt his mind whirling at this new knowledge. An unchangeable soul¡ what did that even mean? How can it never change over the countless eons of existence? Under the merciless hands of time, all things change as the heavens will.
A loud murmuring chat began to rise within the room. ¡°I know, I know,¡± said the sage. ¡°I remember how shocked I was at your age when I learned of this. But you see whatever the tenth soul is, it does not matter,¡± said the sage. ¡°For no cultivators, save the ancient gods themselves, were ever able to gain complete control of the tenth soul. Theoretically anyone who could gain total control over the tenth soul would become immortal, but as you all know, besides the dragons, there are no immortals. That is why there are only nine ranks to the human cultivation system. One for each accessible soul.¡±
Jebe pouted in an uncharacteristically childish manner. ¡°Too bad my ninth soul isn¡¯t a dragon,¡± he thought aloud.
After the sage finished his discussion on the souls, he went on to teach everyone the most standard cultivation method of the world ¨C the circulation method. In this method, one practices slow breathing while attempting to sense the qi in the air. Once they have sensed that qi, they guide it into their lungs by inhaling, then circulate it through their meridians.
For most people, it will take six days to sense qi with this method. Exceptional talents will sense it in three or four days, and geniuses will sense it in one to two days. Jebe did not sense it today. In fact, Jebe did not sense it in the following two dies either. As he left the room on the third day he could feel the sage¡¯s disappointed gaze on his back.
¡°Who said my spirit rank was high?¡± Jebe grumbled despondently. It was begining to annoy himhow people had formed expectations of his success without consulting him first.
Sitting on a log in the grass clearing later that evening, Jebe discussed his concerns with Viktor. ¡°What good is a rank 7 spirit if it doesn¡¯t mean any progress in my cultivation?¡± Jebe complained.
Viktor shrugged. ¡°Not all spirits help with cultivation, you know that.¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
¡°Yes, but I don¡¯t feel any different otherwise. I don¡¯t feel stronger, or faster, or smarter,¡± he started.
¡°Definitely not smarter,¡± Viktor quipped. ¡°Well then again, I never did meet you before training. Who knows what you were like before? To a rock, a turtle must appear quite nimble,¡± Viktor joked.
¡°Yes, you must see me as quite the swift turtle, huh?¡± retorted Jebe.
Viktor smiled placidly in response. ¡°Are you planning on entering the tournament this weekend?¡± he inquired.
¡°Are you?¡±
¡°I believe so.¡±
¡°Then no,¡± Jebe said.
Viktor titled his head, failing to appropriate the words.
¡°It¡¯s a weapons tournament. Since you¡¯re going, I can¡¯t win, so I might as well not go at all,¡± answered Jebe honestly.
A guilty look was revealed on Viktor¡¯s face. ¡°You beat me sometimes,¡± he started, ¡°how about yesterday? Yesterday you knocked me to the ground.¡±
¡°Yesterday you disarmed me so easily that I got pissed off and kicked dirt in your eyes before dropping you with a haymaker. Unless my raging temper qualifies as a weapon, I don¡¯t think I can legally replicate that situation in the tournament.¡±
¡°Well it¡¯s an open weapon contest, so you could finally use those saber skills you¡¯re so proud of,¡± said Viktor.
¡°Oh?¡± sounded Jebe with a raised brow. ¡°Well that changes things. I¡¯ll see you at the tournament then. You can touch my money after I win,¡± Jebe winked.
Viktor smiled earnestly. ¡°Looking forward to it. You should go to the library and try to research you spirit before then. It may be able to give you some advantage. I have already figured mine out,¡± Viktor said with a poorly hidden display of arrogance.
Jebe scrunched his eyebrows and turned his head. ¡°You mean to say you¡¯ve been taking it easy on this here poor farmer boy?¡± Jebe asked with an intentionally heavy country accent.
¡°Not easy per se,¡± Viktor spoke slowly with a self contentgrin.
¡°Hmm, yeah,¡± Jebe nodded blankly while edging his toe downwards. Suddenly he kicked it forward, attempting to fling dirt atViktor¡¯s eyes.
¡°Hah!¡± Viktor shouted as he blocked it with his arms. ¡°I knew you would do that!¡±
Before Viktor could finish gloating, Jebe had kicked out with his other foot and slammed it home into Viktor¡¯s crotch. Viktor dropped so fast one could have mistakenly thought he was dodging enemy fire. That is, until he stayed faced down moaning and writhing in pain.
¡°Talk to you later Vik,¡± said Jebe as he walked away fromhis invalid friend.
He took the long way to the library, enjoying the twisting path which passed alongside the old willow trees whose branches hung low and kissed the cobblestone. It reminded him of the horses back home taking long, slow drinks out of the trough on a hot summer day.
Arriving at the great stonework library he pushed softly on the thick, wooden door, painfully aware of how disturbing its loud creaks were.
¡°May I help you?¡± asked an older officer behind the desk with large spectacles and pallid skin.
¡°Yes, I was hoping to find some books on advanced spirits,¡± said Jebe. ¡°Specifically around rank 7.¡±
The eyes of the older man lit up as he pushed his spectacles more firmly up his face. ¡°Ah, so you are the young man with the rank 7 spirit,¡± he said.
Jebe turned red and nodded his head with pursed lips. ¡°Yes, sir. That is so,¡± he said.
¡°I have heard that you had a disappointing showing this week.¡±
Jebe turned his head down as to avoid showing any anger in his gaze. Collecting himself he looked back up, ¡°yes, sir.¡±
¡°It is good of you to take initiative like this. Go three floors up and head right to the shelf labeled S7.¡±
¡°Thank you, sir.¡± Jebe said before turning towards the stairs.
¡°Haaah how unfortunate, if I had a talent like that¡¡± The clerk said somewhat too loudly as Jebe walked away.
Jebe turned deaf towards the man¡¯s complaints and continued upstairs. His spirit was bringing more trouble than it was worth.
When he reached the correct section, he began scanning the titles for one that seemed like it may contain his spirit. Eventually he picked one called Greater Shadow Spirits and Other Nefarious Spirits. The cover was made form dark brown leather and title was written in silver lettering. It was too specific for casual reading, and thus in good condition.
Jebe sat down at a table and flipped the book open. The beginning was a brief introduction on how the book was made, and why. This included a shameless description of the authors accolades and picture of a wiry man with slick backed hair and a pompous puffed out white shirt. He was holding a quill in his hand, as if that fact that he wrote a book wasn¡¯t enough proof that he was a writer.
¡°Phantom Lich, Shadow Wyvern, Yellow River Eel,¡± Jebe mumbled the names of the creatures aloud as he flipped through the pages. Finally, he found the one he was looking for ¨C ¡°Nightmare Steed.¡±
The Nightmare Steed has only one reported owner in history. This was the Grand Vicar of the Alocious Empire in the Year 635. The Grand Vicar was a powerful individual who reached the Four-Human Realm and was proficient in the manipulation of both shadows and fire, as well as, the usage of the lance. The Grand Vicar was eventually executed by King Francis when it was revealed that he had been capturing and torturing people in his castle for several decades. The number of individuals tortured to death by the Grand Vicar is estimated to be between two and three score. (120-180)
Jebe sucked in a breath. ¡°Well he sounds like a real charmer.¡±
The following details were ascertained by observation of the Grand Vicar contemporaries and my own studious research.
Human Progression: Ranking up is standard increase to strength, vitality, speed, and endurance by a factor of two.
Unique Trait: (Unconfirmed) Increased cultivation when in the presence of suffering individuals.
¡°Hmm. Well that¡¯s not what I wanted to hear,¡± said Jebe. ¡°This means I will get no advantage in combat during the tournament. At least I will have the possibility of breaking through to high ranks at a good pace in the future. I wonder if it is the physical pain or mental anguish that causes a boost to my cultivation speed? Perhaps I can replicate the scenario in the tournament?
Human 1 Trait: Ability to gather qi in eyes and see through any level of darkness. Physicality of 2 men.
¡°Hmm. Not the best, but it may help me get a position in the scouting or raiding corps.¡±
Human 2 Trait: Ability to exhale smoke-like shadows from mouth and nose. Physicality of 4 men.
¡°This I can work with. They definitely line up well.
Human 3 Trait: Ability to shape shadows based on the will of the user. Physicality of 8 men.
Jebe smiled. ¡°Now this is the kind of skill a captain deserves. The feints I will be able to deploy on the battlefield with this skill will be unimaginable.¡±
Human 4 Trait: (Unconfirmed) Possible minor fire manipulation.
Jebe closed the book and leaned back as he pondered. ¡°Variable cultivation boost, average body progression, and skills based on deception. It appears the Nightmare Steed relies greatly upon the capabilities of its user, as opposed to the simple advantages given by most spirits.¡± he put the book back, cracked his neck, and smiled. ¡°I can work with this,¡± he said.
Leaving the library, Jebe bumped in to Samson. The collision caused Jebe to step back, but he made sure it was no more than one step. Looking up he saw the great blonde giant staring at him with a calm gaze. The gaze told Jebe that bump was not intentional, but he also didn¡¯t mind that it happened.
Beside him was another boy, slightly smaller than Samson (Is Samson the giant?) but still significantly larger than Jebe. The boy had a lean muscular build, high cheekbones, and yellow hair. He wore the Martial School uniform instead of the Military Academy¡¯s. His shoulders had a silver lion on them, demonstrating a rank equivalent to an officer; hence allowing him to walk around like this.
Jebe gave a curt salute to the boy before turning to Samson. ¡°Samson,¡± he said.
¡°Jebe,¡± Samson replied.
¡°Who is your friend?¡± asked the other boy.
¡°Just a member of my squad,¡± replied Samson.
¡°Hmm,¡± the boy sounded. He then turned away dismissively and strode into the library.
The two members of 14th Squad stared at the boy¡¯s retreating back with differing expressions.
¡°Lovely friend you got there,¡± said Jebe.
¡°You would do well to become his friend too,¡± replied Samson. ¡°That¡¯s Roland of the Leo family, he¡¯s currently 4th in line for the throne. He already has the rank that is meant to be given to you upon your graduation. I imagine, when our four years are up, he will already be a colonel.¡±
¡°That sounds like a whole lot of political bullshit,¡± said Jebe.
¡°You¡¯re in the military, political bullshit is what we¡¯re fighting for. You would do well to learn that.¡±
¡°Clever giant, aren¡¯t you?¡± Jebe acknowledged.
Samson smiled a frightening grin. ¡°Predators don¡¯t always rely on their claws.¡±
¡°The tournament is this Friday and me, you, and Vik are the last candidates for squad leader standing. I say the one among us who ranks highest at the end gets the position.¡±
Samson nodded his head in thought. ¡°Makes sense to me. Prove you¡¯re capable and win some honor for the squad in a single move, I like it.¡±
¡°Good. I¡¯ll tell Vik later tonight.
¡°Well, I¡¯ll see you then little man.¡±
¡°Best of luck, Sir. Bullshit.¡± Jebe retorted.
Samson grunted and walked stiffly inside after Roland.
Jebe smiled as he walked towards the quartermaster. ¡°Now then,¡± he began, ¡°it¡¯s time to get a saber.¡±
Tournament (1)
To say he was a bit jittery would be an understatement. At the moment, Jebe was damn near hysteric.
It was the first match, the very first match, and he was up against the new leader of 7th squad. A man of broad shoulder, quick wit, and malicious temperament.
Jebe heard that the man had become squad leader after beating everyone else in his squad to a bloody pulp with nothing but a chair leg. He was a man driven by a volatile temper and uninhibited ambition.
¡°First match of the Third Arena begins now,¡± declared the referee; startling Jebe from his frightened considerations.
The opponent revealed an evil grin as he rushed across the arena with his sword raised high. Jebe stumbled backwards and awkwardly drew his saber. He quickly realized he had messed up by stepping back as he had surrendered the initiative to his enemy.
A ferocious overhand chop came careening towards Jebe¡¯s skull, which he narrowly dodged with a sideways roll. He came up fast and tried to regain momentum with a stab, but was forced to retract his saber to defend against the opponent¡¯s next violent swing.
Jebe continuously back pedaled as he parried, blocked, dodged, and deflected a wild assortment of savage blows. His opponent was like an angry child trying to stomp a particularly pesky bug to flaky bits.
But as he continued to defend himself, Jebe realized something. The opponent was slow. Not just that, but he was not even skillful. Compared to Vik, this guy¡¯s swings were awkward and embarrassing. Furthermore, Jebe lost to Vik while wielding a sword, if he had a saber during their matches it could have been a completely different result.
For this competition he was allowed to use any weapon, Jebe had chosen a cavalry saber. While sabers are generally considered less flexible weapons, they made up for it with fluidity and cutting power. They were also the weapons he grew up practicing.
Enlivened, Jebe switched up his technique. He went from a straightforward sword defense to a more circular and fluid saber defense. With each sweeping parry, he would redirect his blade toward the opponent¡¯s throat, forcing the man to retreat with each exchange. Soon, it was Jebe who had pushed his opponent into a corner with his skillful foray of attack and his opponent who was desperately defending.
Sensing that his opponent was faltering, Jebe set up a faint with a big overhand swing. Predictably, the opponent lifted up his sword for a block but Jebe surprised him by spinning around and sweeping his legs. The opponent crashed heavily on to the ground and had a blade pressed to his neck before he could sit up.
¡°I¡ I surrender!¡± the boy stammered. Collective gasps could be heard from the surrounding crowd. A squad leader losing on his first match was a shocking event. In contrast to the cadets, most of the officers had calm expressions on their face as if all of this was to be expected.
Jebe got off the stage and met up with Viktor, who had also won his match. Viktor had faced an unremarkable man who could only perform the most basic of strokes that had been taught the first week.
The pair were unable to find Samson, and so they chose to wander around the courtyard observing the competition.
¡°Now that is an unusual sight,¡± remarked Viktor as he gestured towards the Fourth Arena.
Jebe looked to where Viktor was pointing and spotted a young man with spiked hair dashing in and out of his opponent¡¯s defense with two deadly daggers flashing every which way. He was so incredibly quick that his opponent could not even muster the faintest hint of resistance. Within seconds it was over.
¡°Mathael of First Squad has won over Tolly of Seventh Squad,¡± the referee announced.
¡°Well that explains it,¡± said Jebe.¡°Yes, indeed,¡± replied Viktor.
First Squad was made up of boys who had already broken through to the Human 1 Stage before enlisting. That meant that each and every one of them was at least as strong, fast, and tough as two full grown men. Compared to normal fourteen-year-old boys, they were monsters.
All of them were given special treatment by the academy as squires and would be released into the service of a knight for two years upon their graduation. They were basically noblemen in the making.
¡°I think we should treat every member of First Squad as someone equal to a squad leader,¡± said Viktor.
Jebe shook his head. ¡°No, they are quite a bit stronger than squad leaders. Let¡¯s just hope we don¡¯t run into them anytime soon,¡± he said.
The rest of the morning passed slowly as Viktor and Jebe wandered lazily from arena to arena, observing the competition. The entire tournament was set up as ten separate arenas¡¯ with space for eager cadets to watch and socialize between them. If one did not know the purpose of the competition, the bustling crowd and brightly colored flags would make it all seem like a marketplace.
After wandering for a while they got word of Samson¡¯s first match wherein he reportedly, ¡®grabbed his opponent by the neck and tossed him towards the crowd like a monkey throwing shit¡¯ The imagery was somehow both startling and expected.
Round two of the competitions began in the afternoon with Jebe up against a rather large cadet wielding an axe.
¡°Split him open Jacob!¡± someone roared from the crowd.
Jebe stepped backwards reactively before stopping himself. He let out a deep breath and consciously forced himself to hold his ground. ¡°No more fear,¡± he said. ¡°Fear leads to weakness, weakness leads to defeat, I have no interest in defeat.¡± Jebe spit into both his hands and slapped them together.
He stared at his axe-wielding opponent and gave his best impression of what one of the mating bulls look like before they were about to jump the fence and lay a cow. He¡¯d always found that look to be rather disturbing.
At this moment an inexplicable shiver went down Jacob¡¯s spine.
The referee signaled the beginning of the fight and both combatants advanced confidently towards one another.
His opponent gave an arrogant laugh as he slapped the side of his axe against his palm. ¡°Tiny, tiny, tiny. A small man with small bones, you won¡¯t even leave a notch,¡± he taunted.
Jebe continued forwards silently as he spun his saber calmly in his right hand. He had learned to fight single handed from his grandfather, an old frontier scout. One of the reasons he had so much trouble with the military¡¯s sword arts was that it is a rigid, two handed style.
Scouts, due to the nature of their profession, wielded a cavalry saber in their right hand and horse reins in their left. When on foot the scouts retained their one handed swordsmanship and used their free hand for grappling and trapping techniques.
The swordsmanship of the Leo Frontier Scout was one of sweeping graceful fluidity. The blade was always in motion, deflecting the opponent kinetic energy with elegant arcs before flashing back towards the enemy with deadly precision. This was a form of swordsmanship intended to end battles quickly and move on; wherein one used every act of defense as an opportunity to attack.
When the raiders tracked Jebe home from a hunt year¡¯s ago it was his grandfather who came in midway to save both Jebe and his mother¡¯s life. His father, unfortunately, was not so lucky.
The combatants met in the middle of the stage with the axe warrior going for a violent hack. Jebe was ready. He traced his saber behind the opponent¡¯s axe and pushed it harmlessly to the side. Before the opponent could recover he brought his blade across the man¡¯s neck and watched the blood fly. It was an instant defeat. Then¡
Silence. A deathly silence.
Jebe looked down and saw his opponent on his knees grasping desperately at his neck. His face was pale and trembling, and his eyes were blood red and frantic. Blood leaked out from between his fingers like he was squeezing and orange.
He had forgotten. He wasn¡¯t home, this wasn¡¯t a raider, this was a cadet, a fourteen-year-old, a child.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
An officer from the crowd rushed forward at a lighting speed and put his hand on the boy¡¯s chest.
¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean too, I¡¯m so sorry, I just¡¡± Jebe stuttered as his eyes watered up.
¡°Enough,¡± the officer commanded gruffly. A bright glow came from his hand as he placed them upon the boy¡¯s neck. Before Jebe¡¯s very eyes he saw the blood flow stem and skin start mending together. Jebe recognized this glow as qi. The officer was transferring energy from his own dantian to the child¡¯s wound. To mend a wound like this would take at least the qi of a Human 2 cultivator.
As Jebe was worried about the possibility of having killed the cadet he felt strange tingling sensation beneath his skin. It was incredibly uncomfortable, like veins that never existed before suddenly began pumping blood at a furious rate and all of this blood was being dispersed through his bones, tendons, and muscles.
¡°The Grand Vicar,¡± he mumbled. He glanced at the boy trembling on the ground and looked at his terrified eyes. The boy began shaking violently and whimpering incoherently as he scratched at the ground and tried to crawl farther away from Jebe.
A bursting sensation exploded from deep within Jebe¡¯s veins. His body felt like it was tearing apart from the inside out, almost as if his cells were leading a revolt against the very body which held them.
¡°Arrgh!¡± Jebe screamed as he fell to his knees, grasping his skin. His breath came in ragged gasps and he clawed at the stone beneath him, quickly transforming his fingernails to bloody mush. Soon, he was curled up in a ball, immune to the going on''s of the world around him. At the crescendo of his pain he heard a sound, a familiar sound, a sky shaking, earth trembling neigh. And it was over.
He blinked. His body felt¡ good. Better even. Everything about him felt bigger and stronger. He felt like a snake who had shed his skin and grown anew. No! He felt like a carp who swam up the highest of waterfalls and flown into the sky as a magnificent dragon. He felt born anew.
¡°Did you just advance to Human 1?¡± asked the shocked officer.
Jebe looked down at his skin. It was darker, tanner, healthier most likely. His hands seemed unusual to him, far larger than they used to be.
¡°Yes,¡± Jebe replied slowly. ¡°I believe I have.¡±
The officer stared in shock. ¡°From battle?¡± he asked.
¡°In a sense,¡± said Jebe as he glanced at the now unconscious boy. ¡°Will he live?¡±
¡°What? Uhm, yes. He will just need a moment to rest now. Does this¡¡±
¡°Am I disqualified?¡± interrupted Jebe.
¡°No, you are not disqualified,¡± replied the officer. ¡°I¡¯m just wondering how you broke through without meditating?¡±
Jebe shrugged his shoulders and thought up a quick excuse. ¡°I was on the verge of advance before the battle, the excitement must have pushed me over the edge.¡±
The officer nodded in thought. ¡°It happens on occasion, and I congratulate you for this. You will, however, receive a demerit for injuring your opponent.¡±
Jebe nodded. Once a cadet has received a hundred demerits they will be kicked out of the academy and banned from joining the Leo Military in the future. No matter how good of a fighter someone was, the military needed people capable of following orders. That was the difference between a warrior and a solider.
¡°I understand,¡± Jebe said.
The officer nodded. ¡°You have won this round. Why don¡¯t you rest up before your next fight?¡±
Jebe agreed and walked off stage to a terrified crowd. It was a strange feeling to walk through a swath of people that all feared him. He felt like he a lion who had just killed its tamer and strolled out of the circus.
But he also felt power. A rush of energy unlike any he had gotten when meditating. His body was filling up with qi just as quickly as when he had cut the boy¡¯s throat. Of course, reaching the second rank was a hundred times more difficult than the first. Otherwise there is no way the Grand Vicar would have died as only a Human 4 stage cultivator.
Viktor was standing outside the arena with a complex expression on his face. ¡°That was¡¡± he began.
¡°Shut up Vik, please, not now,¡± he said. He found a small piece of shade beneath a tree and leaned his head back against the bark.
Viktor was smart enough to say nothing and snuck away quietly.
Jebe sighed and closed his eyes. His opponent¡¯s terrified expression was branded upon the inside of his eyelid and sleep proved to be elusive.
¡°Hey! Jebe!¡± someone shouted.
Jebe opened his eyes and peered towards the directions of the voice.
Samson was walking over with his rich prick prince friend beside him.
¡°Yes?¡± Jebe responded.
¡°I heard you hit rank 1,¡± spoke Samson.
¡°I did,¡± Jebe replied.
Samson gave him an interesting look. It was perhaps, admiration? ¡°You¡¯re going to need that boost. I looked at the brackets. Seeing as we won our first two fights we only need to win three more to fight each other, two more for me and Viktor.¡± he said.
¡°You don¡¯t think Viktor is a threat to you.¡±
¡°No.¡±
¡°You underestimate him.¡±
¡°You underestimate me.¡±
¡°Perhaps I do, ¡°Jebe replied calmly. ¡°We¡¯ll learn soon enough.¡±
¡°Your name is Jebe, correct?¡± asked Roland suddenly.
Jebe glanced at the prince. ¡°It is that, sir.¡±
¡°No need for sir,¡± said Roland. ¡°You are worthy of calling me by my name.¡±
¡°Oh good I¡¯m glad that I¡¯ve earned that honor,¡± Jebe replied.
¡°Jebe.¡± said Samson sternly.
He shook his head. He was off his game. He couldn¡¯t be rude to someone like Roland, that would be like digging his own political grave. ¡°Sorry Roland, it has been a difficult afternoon.¡±
Roland¡¯s face kept an amicable smile throughout. ¡°It is quite alright. You should catch some rest, I¡¯ll talk to you again if you last another three rounds,¡± said Roland.
Jebe nodded. ¡°As you wish,¡± he replied. He said farewell to the both of them and tried to settle his emotions before his next match.
The heavens can be strange, Jebe thought. He did not wish suffering on others. He had been the powerless one before. He had been the one with a blade to his throat as he watched his loved one¡¯s die. But now his spirit the terrifying Nightmare Steed enjoyed the suffering of others. From their fear it grew more powerful, and so from their fear Jebe grew more powerful. If he went against his morals he would advance rapidly. It was simple. If he abandons who he is he can become someone greater. But Jebe wouldn¡¯t do that. He had no issue being a normal person. Grand aspirations were for people like Roland. All Jebe wanted was enough strength to do his job, pay back his debts, and protect those around him.
As the sun passed the midway point in the sky and began to slowly sink downwards, he stood up. It was time for round 3, the final round of the first day.
He stretched his limbs and cracked his joints before wiping the fatigue from his eyes. With his cavalry saber at his hip, he strode boldly up the steps and into the arena. His rust-colored eyes stared calmly at his new opponent.
His opponent was unremarkable to a remarkable degree. He had the standard issue sword and uniform, as well as a medium build with forgettable facial features. However, to be in the third round, he must have already beaten two men so Jebe couldn¡¯t take him too easily.
The match began.
They both walked slowly towards the center of the arena with their weapons drawn, and began circling one another. The sunlight reflected off the opponent¡¯s blade and cast a glare towards Jebe¡¯s eyes. Instinctively Jebe lifted his hand to cover the glare.
The opponent took advantage of Jebe¡¯s loss of vision and dashed forward with a lunge. Jebe nimbly deflected the attack with a twirl of his saber and came forward with a series of diagonal slashes.
His opponent defended against the flurry admirably, but he was noticeable struggling. The opponent was clever but lacked combat experience. Jebe began to confuse his enemy by rapidly changing the rhythm of his attacks. Sometimes he would strike quickly, other times he would swing slowly. He was like water being poured down a mountain side working its way around every obstacle and never stopping its advance.
While performing this foray of blows he gradually adjusted the newfound prowess of his Human 1 body. Faster, stronger, tougher. Those were the words most often associated with ranking up, and Jebe could feel them all now.
The cadet was putting up an admirable fight but suddenly he misjudged the speed of Jebe¡¯s slash and took a cut across his forearm, forcing him to wield his sword one-handed. Then they were back to their dance. Steel and iron flashed through the air like two birds at play, as if their blades were the beaks of birds pecking at each other¡¯s sides.
Yet Jebe¡¯s dominant speed and strength slowly overwhelmed his opponent. Suddenly, as these things always tend to be, Jebe¡¯s saber knocked away his opponent sword and stopped just short of the boy¡¯s jugular. The cadet froze.
¡°Jebe of 14th Squad wins his third match of the day!¡± announced the referee.
Nobody cheered. Jebe sighed and sheathed his sword. His incident with the axe kid from earlier had damaged his reputation.
¡°I might as well go watch Vik¡¯s match then,¡± he said to himself.
Viktor was up against a man by the name Bartholomew. He was, unfortunately, the leader of 1st Squad and the expected winner of this tournament. Viktor was doing well so far, which was to say he hadn¡¯t lost yet, but he was far from winning.
The crowd surrounding the arena was stomping and chanting vivaciously,¡± Barth! Barth! Barth! Barth!¡±
Inside the arena, Viktor was on his last legs. His swordsmanship was unquestionably top tier, but he simply did not have what it took to take on Bartholomew. The leader of 1st squad was only a slightly worse swordsman than him, and already Human 1. Uniquely, he had a 5th Rank Spirit called the Six-legged Leopard that made him significantly faster than your average Human 1 warrior.
¡°Kick his ass Vik!¡± shouted Jebe.
A couple people in the crowd gave Jebe unsavory looks but didn¡¯t say anything. He was no longer that short barrel chest 5¡¯2¡± nobody that he was at the beginning of the tournament. After his rank up he had grown to average height and was now complimented by his thickly muscular body and darkly tanned skin. Furthermore, the word of him nearly killing his opponent had spread around quickly. Therefore, when he chose to be the only person cheering for Viktor, nobody dared to say a word against him.
The battle raged on with Viktor gradually blocking less and less. Within 30 seconds his body had become covered in small cuts and blood, soaked so thoroughly into his shirt that it appeared freshly dyed. A thunderous crash resounded across the arena as Viktor¡¯s sword went spinning from his grasp. It was over.
Viktor descended from the stage with the help of Jebe, leaning heavily on his shoulder. as they were walking towards the barracks, Jebe could hear a sneer from behind followed by some laughter.
Jebe turned around to see Bartholomew laugh with a couple people from 1st Squad. He turned around.
¡°Excuse me,¡± he said. ¡°You see something funny? He asked with steel in his voice
¡°Jebe don¡¯t,¡± said Viktor.
¡°I do. I see a weakling and a weakling¡¯s friend. Two sheep herding together because they can¡¯t stand with wolves,¡± he insulted.
Jebe grew quiet and could feel Viktor¡¯s grip on his shoulder tightening. ¡°Calm on, let¡¯s go,¡± Viktor said.
¡°I¡¯m going shove my boot so far up your ass you¡¯ll be spitting out shoelaces for the next week,¡± Jebe spat.
1st Squad and the surrounding crowd grew quiet with stunned silence. Whether it was from the graphicness of Jebe¡¯s threat or actual fear he did not know, but neither did he care. He was serious.
¡°See you soon,¡± he said.