The sword clanged as it struck the scales and Emron felt the vibrations reverberate through his hand. He clenched his teeth and pushed down the discomfort. It was like hitting a solid block of metal, and depending on the element, the metal just might be softer.
The beast spun around. He just barely had enough time to jump back as a tail swiped where he had just been standing. The thick fifth limb was a dangerous one. Emron had seen one of his men get struck by it, the spikes growing on it gouging out his flesh as they struck him in the sternum.
The man was dead. Not yet, mind you, but soon. The wounds were too severe for him to survive. With ribs broken and his chest split open, he could see the man’s beating heart. He was bleeding internally, the sharp bones having pierced his organs, and was losing a lot of blood fast.
Emron cursed in his mind. He had known the man for nearly half a century. He was a good man, if a lazy one. After reaching the peak of Golden Core and realizing he could go no further, the man gave up on Cultivation, deciding to indulge instead in carnal pleasures. He was warned many times, that his body was weak, and he should at least strengthen his flesh, if for nothing else to enjoy his life more.
But he didn’t care. The man was too reliant on his Qi to protect him, to give him power.
And now, a single split second of carelessness crushed him. For Cultivators such as them, keeping a barrier up at all times was simply impossible. They had to use their Qi sparingly and avoid getting hit if at all possible. Their Talent affected how much energy their body could store, and even though many improved their stores with Body Cultivation, the man was not one of them.
And now he was dead. His lifeless eyes filled with countless regrets.
Emron gritted his teeth and continued the melee. He struck like mad, leaving shallow marks on the bright red scales. They were actually doing pretty well, considering they couldn’t wound the beast.
Only three of his men died, and that was at the beginning before they figured out how the beast fought. It might be strong, but its ability to fight was clearly amateurish. It lacked the experience to fight with that body, that much was clear.
He struck, poked, and slashed, with little effect, but he was pacing himself well, as did his men. If they had time, he was certain they could bring it down. But that was the thing, they didn’t. They didn’t have the luxury of time. They were on a tight budget in that regard.
“Use the techniques! Use everything you have, we need to finish this now!” Emron shouted. Their battle was too loud, too big. It was sure to attract the attention of an Elder. And that was something they couldn’t afford.
Immediately the nature of the battle changed. His men began to glow with power, their weapons gaining a greater sharpness and speed as they became empowered with whatever relics and treasures they had.
Emron too, used his trump card. He swallowed a pill and with a thought activated one of his rings at the same time. His body felt imbued with new power, a feeling he wished to revel in for more than just a heartbeat, but had no time. The sudden boost was intoxicating and his face practically glowed with a wide grin.
“DIE, FOUL BEAST!” He roared and attacked. He was faster, stronger, he was going to kill the beast! Nothing could stop him!
But then the beast turned, carrying the same wide grin as him, and Emron realized, with horror, that he had been wrong. The Cultivator, a Second Layer nobody, was simultaneously fighting a dozen old, battle-hardened men to a standstill, bare-handed, and without using a single drop of Qi.
It was using its pure physical prowess.
[My turn.]
The Aura surge alone was enough to stun his mind and his eyes glazed over as he saw a mountain appear where flat ground should be.
A fist slammed into his chest, breaking him free from the illusion of despair. He was pushed back a step but was otherwise fine.
[Oh? You are a tough one! Just like me!] The creature laughed and attacked.
Emron tried desperately to defend, but the sudden increase in speed that accompanied the use of Qi from his opponent was utterly preposterous. Punches rained down on him, fists strong enough to break the bones of his men in a single strike.
[Finally! A worthy opponent! I have longed for this!]
Emron wanted to cry. He couldn’t resist at all. What worthy opponent? It was all the amulet he wore. His life-saving relic he spent the last twenty years of his life saving for. It could block attacks from a Spirit Realm Cultivator with ease, yet its power was getting drained by the second.
Ten of his men were left. Where did the other one go?
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Emron noticed a bloodied corpse on the ground and vaguely remembered the man charging in with vigor, only to get his head destroyed as an elbow struck it as it moved back in preparation for another punch.
The man wasn’t even the target, he was! The beast killed him by accident! Accident! A stray move was all it took!
Emron roared as tears welled in his eyes and began fighting back with greater intensity. They were supposed to test the waters, poke the bear, so to speak. To see if the rumors of the old guardian’s death were true.
Everybody felt the surge of Soul power all those months ago. His men didn’t know, but he did. It took time to prepare, but they were ready now, ready for war. His team just had to cause some panic and blow some things up. A bit of sabotage. To see it the guardian was really dead.
An easy mission. Or, at least, it should have been.
Oh, how wrong they were. The Myriad Beasts Sect already buzzed with activity, with countless Elders flying about. It felt like they just poked a hornet’s nest. A giant hornet’s nest. It was too much. He just wanted to go home, to lay in bed and forget it all.
He regretted remaining in the Sect. He regretted not going out to explore the world like those Rogue Cultivators did. He used to laugh at them, laugh at their stupidity. Life in the wild was harsh, but at least they were free. He didn’t understand them then, but he understood them now.
Live by the sword, die by the sword.
They could choose their path while his was chosen for him. He thought he could pick his own, but that was his youthful naive mind talking. He was but a pawn, a useless piece to be sacrificed at the whims of the Elders. He was a nobody, destined to die before the real conflict even began.
Some lucidity returned to his mind and he noticed only six remain. Most of his men were dead. His amulet, nearly powerless, barely offered any protection anymore. He felt every hit, every strike on his body. It hurt. It hurt so bad! He just wanted it all to end.
Suddenly something pierced his chest. Emron shook as the fight came to a sudden stop and looked down, noticing a thick scaly hand up to the wrist inside him. It slowly pulled back, gently holding his amulet.
[Oh… So it wasn’t really you…]
The beast sounded so disappointed. Its eyes and words hollow, as if it all had been a lie. Tears fell from Emron’s eyes. He couldn’t even die a proper death. To disappoint even his opponent, he felt like a fraud. A loser.
His heart would have pained him if he still had one. He didn’t. It was destroyed with that last punch.
Emron’s eyes glanced at the result of his life’s work. At his men, now dead. At his legacy, destroyed. He had nothing left. It was too much to bear. His eyes rolled back and he fell, and died.
----------------------------------------
I looked at the man as he collapsed. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath through the nose, trying to ignore the sounds of blades and magic trying, in vain, to pierce my body. His Soul, together with the others, was absorbed. A small boost to my Cultivation.
I slowly opened my eyes again and exhaled. I was so excited to have a real fight, yet all I got were frauds with decent gear. The amulet was small, fitting neatly in my palm. It had a slot for a Spirit Stone on the back, and an empty, broken crystal sat inside it.
The stone had exhausted its power and the protection stopped. Even my halfhearted punches managed to kill. I summoned a Spirit Stone and slotted it in. Immediately I felt the pressure on me disappear. I couldn’t even feel the strikes anymore.
I turned and the remaining men tensed but didn’t stop attacking. I could see they were pouring their energy and life into those strikes, beating and stabbing as hard as they could, but it just wasn’t enough. My hard scales glistened in the light as the energy ran through them, giving them an unbreakable hardness.
Their hands were bleeding as with every hit, the energy of their strike was transferred back through the hard metal. Yet they just wouldn’t stop.
As I looked at them, I felt… nothing. There was melancholy in my heart. I didn’t even feel like killing them anymore. They were so weak, so beneath me, I couldn’t understand how some people enjoyed bullying those weaker than them. Where was the challenge, the excitement? There was none. It was just dirty work.
[Guys…] I spoke slowly and was ignored. They continued stabbing and slashing like their lives depended on it.
[Guys, stop… This doesn’t work.]
They didn’t listen, obviously. Even as their energy ran dry and their strikes became weaker, they continued to fight, if you could even call it that. They could have escaped so many times, and I wouldn’t even have bothered to chase them, yet they didn’t.
With tears in their eyes and gritted teeth, they just continued swinging and swinging, never stopping for a second. That was no glorious battle, not a worthy combat. It was depressing. All of it was.
It actually made me mad.
Was that what the Brilliant Sword Sect did? Kill our young with cowardly attacks and then send a small group to infiltrate? To do what exactly? To do what exactly?! Insult us with their weakness?! Send their old and feeble to test our patience?!
It made me so inexplicably angry. I took a deep breath and my eyes glowed.
[Enough of this!] I bellowed.
The Arcane Blaze shot from my eyes, a pure energy beam of fire and lightning. The cone of energy expanded, lowering its power yet still turning the remaining warriors into ash in mere seconds.
A few charred corpses remained and I stared at the destruction with a stone gaze. It was over.
Some storage rings and relics that survived the blaze shot out from the ashes and into my hand. They were mostly broken and I mentally scolded myself for being too impulsive. They became basically worthless, but I reckoned I could get at least a few Spirit Stones for the scrap metal, and maybe extract something useful from the rings themselves. A few personal items, maybe. A stone or two.
Suddenly I perked up as I felt a powerful presence turning its gaze towards me. The fight was quite mild all things considered, but the last attack was impossible to miss. I noticed the trees in the path of my Arcane Blaze were destroyed, and as I expanded the scope of the flames, the destruction went wide. Whops.
I quickly grabbed the body of the leader and disappeared it into my ring together with their weapons and the special enchanted cloth. I had gained another ten Spirit Swords since a few of them broke.
Running away I transformed back, threw on a robe, and went to meet Vilya where I had left her. She had been patiently waiting for me even as the sounds of battle intensified. It made me feel warm inside that she had listened to me, and I grabbed her hand and we quickly ran away from that place.
I had no doubt an Elder would soon arrive to check out the disturbance, and I was in no mood to stay and explain. They could deal with that mess on their own. I would learn what was going on soon enough. The memories, they had yet to speak.