*Sadrianna*
*2 cycles past*
The noise crashed into her mind like an avalanche. If she had thought the circles from her previous years had been loud, she was wrong. This was noise. This was passion.
Drums pounded a frantic rhythm, shaking the very air. Voices crowed delight to the heavens as people from a dozen clans watched from the cliffs, reacting to each blow and counter of the fighters in the circle below them. Nestled into the crags on small platforms, waving food and fine silks from the south, the spectators boomed their appreciation to the skies.
Dozens of meters below them, on the floor of the canyon, nestled in amongst the far less boisterous crowd that lined the circle itself, she watched entranced at the fight before her. To her right and left were men and women well into their 2nd tier, standing still and watching with rigid attention.
In front, there were the shield-bearers. The strongest of each clan’s 2nd tier fighters, they stood in ready crouches with large shields presented inwards towards the circle, marking out the perimeter and protecting those behind them from any stray blows or skills that may cause harm.
Sadrianna was tall though, just able to see over the shoulders of the two men before her and their massive shields. She drank in the sight of combat with eager eyes, straining to see each move as it happened, to put herself in the circle itself and analyse how she would react to each strike.
She’d always been gifted when it came to fighting, evident from an early age, her mother’s blood in her veins apparent for all to see. She’d added to that base with diligent study and long months of practice to build a stable foundation. She then took lessons from her father, learning more about the world and herself, and immersing herself in the true challenge of a wild hunt.
The naivete then drummed out of her by long seasons spent in life and death struggle against the denizens of the wilderness, she sought out every warrior the clan had to offer and learned from them, before progressing into the circle for the first time not yet a true adult.
A few more seasons of competition against the best of her age, she ironed out any issues with her unorthodox path and techniques, consecrated her skills, and then progressed further. She stood at the base of the 2nd tier, a true member of her clan’s martial might.
Now, she entered the true competition. And that same gift she’d always possessed of reading the flows of battle, that same ability to analyse an opponent, honestly and without ego, was now telling her that she was outclassed.
She watched two fighters of consummate skill trade blows that would have shaken her bones with each deflection. She saw skills used in ways she had never dreamed of, that she had no way of countering and even less chance of predicting. As the fight came to a close with a near-decapitation – the strike only stopped by the circle’s Holder intervening herself – Sadrianna breathed out for the first time since the battle had begun.
The man next to her, a bearded northerner wearing heavy furs and colours marking him as a member of clan Red-Cloud, clapped a hand on her shoulder. “No worries lass, you’ll be fine out there. Those are two o’ the strongest we’ve got I reckon. Doubt there’s any here under forty winters that can match either of ‘em! Yall be fine.”
It was a comforting gesture, and she grunted in polite thanks without looking away from the two warriors as they embraced and then slipped back into the crowd to further cheers. But any who had been looking her way would have seen not the anxiousness the Red-Cloud man had taken her silence for, but a burning excitement that lit her whole face with its glow. She had seen a new level of competition, and her heart burned to reach it.
It was a fanciful thought at this point. Both fighters were so far above her that she’d be an idiot to challenge them now. Not to mention arrogant. The Blending was a test, a tool to draw the clans together and sharpen the younger generations against one another, but it was also an exhibition of each clan’s strength.
A source of pride, with all the ego that such an event entails. To stand against someone in the circle was to put yourself on their level. To acknowledge their ability, and claim loudly and to everyone present, that you could match it. She would feel no embarrassment to be defeated by either warrior, but the shame she would bring herself and her clan by proclaiming her their equal before proving that a lie would be immense.
A challenge then, but one as-of-yet out of reach. Her eyes still shone with excitement though – she’d just needed something to aim for. The details of how she would get there were irrelevant.
A new challenger stepped into the arena, interrupting the silence of her thoughts. Young, brash, stalking forwards with all the cockiness of untested youth. She recognised the arrogance of the man before her, because it was a mirror of her own. She had stood head and shoulders above others in her clan for an entire cycle, unbeaten in ‘official’ bouts for two. Nobody in the Blending last cycle could stand up to her, and so she carried with her a self-confidence bordering on arrogance.
The difference between her and the man strutting around the arena waving his arms to pump up the crowd was that she had people around her far more powerful. Her own mother could defeat both the previous fighters at the same time without breaking a sweat. In other words, she had perspective.
That alone had dampened any ego she’d begun secretly harbouring as a teenager, but what truly humbled her had been her parents showing her their own insignificance. She’d been taken to the deep lakes, holes in the earth filled with a water so icy blue that they appeared more as enormous crystalline caves than bodies of water.
They had wrapped her in their protection, cushioned her feeble intent in their own will and beaten back the oppressive aura of the ancient mountains to such a degree that she could survive for half a morning in such an environment. But that was long enough for her to see the titans in the depths of the deep lakes. To witness the leviathans that truly ruled this world, and to understand that for all her mother’s power as one of only three 4th tier warriors of the mountain clans, she was nothing but dust on the wind to those that lurk below.
Watching the man stride around the circle of shields like a caged tiger, his admittedly impressive physique rippling with each movement, she couldn’t help but think she might be able to provide him with some perspective herself. After all, he surely knew he couldn’t match the previous challenges himself. He was noticeably younger, clearly newly into his 2nd tier and so his pride likely came from his power relative to those of his rank, not in an absolute sense.
It just so happened that she was also newly into her 2nd tier as well, and hungry for competition around her level against which she could test herself. A perfect opportunity.
“Is there no one else? The Red-Cloud had some fine competitors last cycle, surely one or two have advanced in the interim?” The man asked, his voice surprisingly deep, rumbling through his broad chest before pouring from his mouth like a sandworm breaching in the desert.
Swaggering around the edge of the circle, he reminded her of immense shadows lazily circling in blue-white waters, and she began to slip between the men and women in front of her. Faces turned her way as she pushed shoulders and slid between arms, dodging the weapons that each warrior had strapped to their backs, sides, and generally any spare inch of flesh that could support more steel.
Say one thing for the mountain clans, their reputation as barbarians was understandable if you only considered their aesthetics. One huge ball of muscle in the shape of a man whirled round as she slipped by and nearly took her eye out with the spiked maul he had slung over one shoulder.
Despite the danger though, she emerged from the gauntlet of her fellow clansmen and out into the light, breaking past the shield-bearers in time to hear the confident shout of the man in the centre of the circle. Up close he was far more intimidating than from a distance, and she now understood why he was struggling to find a challenger.
He was still early in the 2nd tier, and none of the veterans would lower themselves to face him until it was clear that there was nobody from his level to accept his challenge. There were few in the early 2nd tier in the Blending to begin with, and that would mostly be made up of those who had recently broken through. Upon gaining a 2nd tier class, most would spend months working to familiarise themselves with their new class, and in so doing would progress rapidly through the levels. This period of growth was offset by a return to their normal duties afterwards, and so a much slower rate of progress through their 2nd tier until they reached the bottleneck of attempting to breakthrough to the 3rd tier.
All of this to say that there were not many hovering around level 50 in this circle, and almost all of them were very new to their advancement. It was understandable therefore that few had the confidence to challenge somebody in the circle, in front of the eyes of the combined clans above. Doubly so for a challenger who seemed as confident in their abilities as the brash man currently pacing within.
He was broad in the chest and shoulders, rippling with muscle, his red hair wild and his head down, stalking back and forwards with feline grace. All sleek muscle and hard edges. He carried a heavy battle-axe in one hand, short-hafted and lacking in reach, though no doubt quicker to wield.
Not that he needed it, for he was built more like a gorilla than a man, with arms far longer than normal. It would have surprised her on somebody else, but he wore blue ribbons woven into the pelts that adorned his legs and back, and his fiery hair was braided with blue and purple feathers. A member of the Blue-Cavern clan, he surely followed one of their few combat paths.
While most famous for their alchemical prowess, the clan was also known throughout the mountains to have a narrow but deep inheritance. They had few pure combatants, but those they did have were powerful. Rather than variety and adaptability, they were the epitome of Solomense’s saying ‘do few things, but do them well’.
Sadrianna operated on the other end of the scale. She came from a relatively large clan, with a large proportion of warriors inhabiting many roles and with a wide variety of possible paths to follow. She took this a step further, by forging her own path, taking unorthodox skills and earning herself a class not yet seen among the mountain clans, at least as far as she knew.
There were more paths to power than there were trees in the world, according to her father. This would be a good test of her style, to see if it truly held up against a path as enduring as a Blue-Cavern warrior-inheritance.
She stepped up to the shield-bearers in time to hear his first pronouncement. “And here I was hoping to catch at least a single win before being put in my place by my elders. Is there no-one here with a spine?”
She saw some people stiffen as his words drifted to them, saw some clench their jaws as his mocking tone dug into their heads. He had shown enough humility and respect to those more powerful than him that the higher-levelled 2nd tiers were unlikely to step in.
So not completely arrogant then. Pragmatic. Calculated. But still smug, still proud to the point of conceitedness. She filed away the information, for she was under no illusions that the upcoming fight would sorely test her. That was the point though.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Really? Nobody?” He laughed, turning to the point towards a small knot of veterans at the edge, marked as such by their sheer presence, undefinable but still obvious nonetheless. “I apologise my friends, it seems as though you will not have much new competition for a few more cycles. I shall try my best to make up for this shameful-“
“Are you going to keep barking, or will you issue your challenge?” Sadrianna called out, clear and confident as she vaulted over the shoulder of the shield-bearer before her, finally breaking into the open as she did. All eyes swivelled to her, and the Blue-Cavern man turned to regard her with strangely flat yellow eyes. He rolled his great shoulders and stretched out his back in a gesture reminiscent of a hunting cat preparing to spring.
“Oh ho? It seems I was too hasty! My apologies to the young generation, at least one of you isn’t a coward.” His voice gained an edge to it with his next sentence though. “Perhaps soon she will wish that she was.”
Sadrianna rolled her eyes, having heard many such boasts before. The cold expression in his feline eyes did have her heart starting to beat faster, however. She recognised that look, it was one she had seen in many of her hunts. When she looked into the eyes of her quarry when it was cornered, she occasionally saw that same flat empty gaze staring back at her. Only from the predators though.
She kept her chin high and strode into the centre of the circle, drew her spear, and waited patiently. Her breath echoed in her ears, soft and even despite her growing fear.
It was a natural emotion, and she never tried to supress it when it arrived without fail before every serious fight. She controlled her breath, her expression, her voice, but never her emotions. The man before her stood straight, showing off every chiselled inch of his deadly physique as if a challenge itself. She let the fear build, feeling the world start to shift in that strange way it does, as time simultaneously slowed down and rushed past. She heard his words, and somehow spoke herself, accepting the challenge with the ritual phrase, before backing off to the edge of the circle, directly across from him.
They stared at each other then, and she found his eyes, still cold, still flat, staring straight into hers. By now the fear had spread through her body, urging her muscles to twitch, strengthening the bond between her mind and body, such that it would respond before conscious thought. Lyncas’s Legacy was her most frustrating skill to earn, but it had saved her life on more than one account, and it came through again in the first few heartbeats of her biggest fight yet.
The man, still unnamed to her, rushed forwards with a speed that belied his bulk. The heavy axe he carried in his right fist glittered as it cut through the air, whistling as it filled the space she had just vacated.
Her dive turned into a graceful roll, and she was back on her feet and turning, spear tip springing out like a cobra to ward off another attempt, if he was capable of such. The pace of his charge was quite frankly shocking, but rather than feel discouraged by the gulf between their likely attributes, she was pleased. It was likely an active skill that let him rip across a dozen meters in an instant, and he seemed unable to repeat it quickly, although she would have to watch for the possibility again for the entirety of the fight now.
He had shown a capability to finish things with a single move, and she was now on the backfoot, trying to respond to his feints and probing strikes even as she back-pedalled.
He drove her back, keeping up constant pressure with his relentless advance, and she gave ground before him. Her footwork and consummate skill with the spear were the only things that kept her in the fight in that first exchange. He was stronger, faster, and clearly had high endurance based on his relentless pace. He was also skilled, leaving nothing open to her for a counter strike.
But she was also a talented fighter and had skills to make her very difficult to pin down. Unorthodox Movement and Surety of the Ibex were active in conjunction, allowing her to slip below his arcing weapon at odd angles and keep her balance at all times throughout the strange movements. It was also a stylistically difficult matchup for him, given his shorter reach with the axe. His freakishly long arms went some of the way to redress that shortfall, but her spear was just over two meters long, and she knew how to use it.
Every single strike from him was an attempt to setup the next. He swung at her shoulder, only to pivot and kick at her leading leg as she blocked with the haft of her spear. She checked it perfectly, but even so, as the fleshy part of her calf absorbed the force, she felt it falter. A few more of those kicks in the same place and the leg would be unusable.
However, he paid for the opportunity he’d created. As his foot lashed out at her calf, her spear sought retribution. The steel flashed in the sun as it slid through the air unerringly for his neck, and his quick reactions were the only thing saving him from a loss then and there. Nevertheless, she scored a thin slice along his brow, which started dribbling blood down his face almost instantly.
That set the tone, and so the fight shifted again. He now knew he couldn’t hope to exhaust her, or trade blows one for one and hope to come out on top. She was the better weapons-master, and she had the stylistic advantage against him as well.
He stopped trying to trade strikes with her, and instead turned to his skills. She had read the change in the air, and knew to expect something, but was still surprised when a gout of fire burst from his off-hand, resolving into a long chain that dribbled molten mana to the floor.
She barely had time to blink as it flew towards her face, and she engaged all of her strength to kick off the floor, sliding several meters to her left and back towards the centre of the circle from that one step. Her spear came up in an overhand jab as she moved, seeking to disrupt the snaking chain before it could reach her.
Her eyes briefly met the man’s, and she saw him burn with delight as spear met chain. His splayed hand suddenly clenched, and the chain whipped around the top of her spear, snaring it. His chest and shoulder rippled as he clenched, readying himself for a heave backwards which would send her rocketing towards him. She could see his weapon rearing back even as he moved to pull the chain taught, readying a massive blow that would hit her with all the force of a rampaging rakshasa. She had nowhere to go and could not disengage without losing her weapon.
It was a near-perfect setup and would have no doubt been enough to end any one of the younger generation present around the circle today. Unfortunately, he wasn’t dealing with just one of the younger generation.
He was dealing with her.
She felt her mother’s blood thrum through her veins, her pulse powerful and sure despite her rapid breathing. Her teeth bared in a savage grin as she returned his gaze, she saw the confidence falter even as his eyes widened. Neither of them had time to stop what was coming, so rapid was the exchange, but she was gratified to see that he paid her the respect of at least realising she had more to give than he’d yet seen.
She activated Razor-Beak as the chain wrapped around the blade of her spear, and she harnessed the energy of the impact to send the spear circling at the end, just slightly.
Razor-Beak had started out as a useful skill when she would hunt, letting her pierce the hides of tough creatures without requiring immense strength or a rarer weapon. When she reached her 2nd tier class though, it had transformed from a utility skill to a situationally powerful combat one. The 2nd tier skill allowed her to pierce not just material, but also mana.
So as the spear tip weaved a circular defence in the air, the skill-empowered steel blade sliced against the infernal chain summoned by her opponent. Her skill warred with his as the mana in blade and chain met, and rather than being snared, her spear cut straight through.
He staggered as the weight at the end of his chain suddenly vanished, and his heave became an aborted stumble backwards, even as she rose off her back foot and lanced forwards, spear tip leading the way. A textbook one-legged extension – ‘the willow bows in furious winds’ her mother called it – her blade stabbed deep into one of his massive shoulders, but in a testament to his skill and composure, he harnessed the momentum from both his stumble and her strike and managed to turn aside, whirling to face her again and leaving an arc of blood trailing in the air from the wound in his shoulder.
Her back foot drifted to the earth, slow and measured, and she stood tall once more, heart pounding a staccato rhythm in her chest but face a calm mask. His eyes, once so cold and flat, were now blazing. Dancing with a fire equal at least to the remnants of his infernal chain.
He flipped the axe from his injured arm to the free one, releasing the chain as he did so. It was a gambit that had not paid off, but he surely had a few more nasty skills to surprise her with. Both combatants faced off against each other, her holding the centre of the circle, and him only a half-step from the shields at his back.
She could hear nothing but the rushing of blood in her ears, overwhelming the raucous cheers and yells from the crowd around her, and the duller roar from those observing in the canyon walls above.
A pause then, as a calm huntress stared down an implacable tiger, neither willing to back down in the face of the other.
Vaguely she could make out the smell of burning moss, her opponent’s mana-constructed chain smoking on the ground from where it was discarded. He had clearly de-activated the skill, but such was the intention behind his mana that the construct persisted in the physical realm for the moment, burning itself out on the verdant rocky floor between them.
An invisible signal, and both warriors re-engaged. Sadrianna activated Markhor’s Rush and shot forward in a blink, cracking the stone beneath her front foot as she split the air apart with her charge. The man’s enormous legs bunched beneath the heavy furs wrapped by gut-twine that surrounded his lower half, and he met her charge with one of his own, axe swinging from above in a brutal cleave.
She allowed the mana-forged horns of her upgraded skill to deflect his blade, feeling her neck twinge at the impact, reinforced though it was with her skill. Dropping her shoulder, she burst upwards, attempting to sink a heavy blow to his gut and leave him reeling.
The man was from Blue-Cavern though, and followed an inheritance that had nurtured generations of fine warriors. She had observed his cat-like movements, more subtle and graceful than expected for a man of his size, and she had thought she’d taken his measure. Clearly, she had been slightly off.
Rather than crumpling over her skill-toughened shoulder, he instead leapt into the air, borrowing the force of her shoulder check, and adding it to the power his legs provided. She felt him pass over above her, and her instincts, honed by years of training and hunting, and further enhanced by her passive skill Lyncas’s legacy, screamed at her.
She hurled herself forwards, uncaring for her weapon as it clattered to the ground behind her. A heavy axe blade whistled through the air where her torso had been only a moment before, and she rolled to her feet to find the man leaping towards her again from high above.
Another frantic dive towards her spear was cut short by the discarded chain rearing from the ground to snare her legs, and she reeled backwards to avoid a heavy kick aimed at her chest. Rooted to the spot and unarmed, she didn’t hesitate to act.
Her father deserved credit for those instincts, for no matter how hard the training and sparring with her fellow clansmen was, nothing could rival the desperate struggles she endured against wild animals hellbent on her death. She had learned many times, and had the scars to prove it, that even a bad choice made quickly was better than a good choice made too late.
And so, without hesitation, as the titan of muscle before her bared down on her axe first, she stamped her one free foot to the ground and roared.
It was a sound unlike any that the White-Cliff clan would recognise, no imitation of great-bear or mountain lion. This was the tortured sound of rocks grinding in the depths, the shriek of matter being crushed by overwhelming weight, the very hills breaking apart before the force of inevitability.
She had no idea what sound she truly made, but in her mind, she channelled her experience of the canons and gorges that littered her home. The waterfalls and valleys that created such mesmerising topography and allowed her to get lost in the twists and cracks of the mountain. She became the very bedrock beneath her feet, and experienced the slow grinding away of all that she was in the face of the frozen water that shaped her life.
In the few moments she had before the final blow came by way of a Blue-Cavern warrior, she connected to the earth with one foot and cried out, activating her most powerful skill; Glacial Carcass.
The circle shook and earth ruptured, throwing shards of rock in the air. Her opponent leapt backwards, seeking stable ground and attempting urgently to catch his balance.
Sadrianna acted, relying on Surety of the Ibex to guide her feet, and Unorthodox Movement to keep her balance in the suddenly transformed circle of heaving rock and scattered stone. Evan as slivers of the canyon floor fell back to the earth or ricocheted off the raised shields around her, she wove through the maze of crumpled earth. Leaping from an upturned stone shelf, she pushed against a falling boulder the size of her torso and extended her right arm, catching a small shard of rock as it fell to the floor in front of her.
She fell to the earth alongside it, and with a simple step had the blade pressed against the neck of warrior before her, leg braced behind him to kick out his legs if he did not yield. A ground fight might not suit her, but she would be damned if she’d let him recover for even a moment if he refused to yield – she was very nearly done, hovering near the edge of exhaustion from the activation of her most mana-intensive skill.
Luckily, despite the arrogance with which he had entered the circle, the man knew when he was beaten, and he held her gaze as she held him upright, raising an arm to signal to all that he was defeated. The blazing in his eyes dimmed a moment, before roaring back to life with a different intensity. She frowned for a moment before recognising it and stepped away hastily from the large man. She shook her head, reassessing how much arrogance she had truly beaten out of him before turning to the crowd.
A furious roar met her as she raised her arms to the sky, glorying in the elation of victory. Looking to the sky, her gaze hovered around the top of the canyon where white rock met blue sky, and she grinned as two figures waved back in acknowledgement and congratulation.
Her path had been tested, and her commitment redoubled.