The system fell into a brief silence, a pause that Armad didn't quite understand. He was unaware that the system's silence was not a sign of humiliation but rather an indication of its deep computations. The system was at work, analyzing and seeking ways to aid Armad in awakening one of the techniques that are within his blood. It had clearly stated to Armad that it wasn't in the business of creating techniques from scratch, it was determined to extract one from within Armad's physical capabilities. The system itself lacked the creative power to bring forth a mighty technique on its own; however, it could potentially unlock powerful techniques using the unique properties of Armad's blood. Yet, the system's ability to unlock these techniques was contingent on it receiving cultivation power, which would energize its capabilities. This was the reason it would ask Armad for a price.
"For each technique's explanation that you seek, you must pay with 500 years of your cultivation," the system intoned. "And each technique has its specific price that you will be required to pay."
Armad's expression darkened with concern. What did this transaction mean, giving up 500 years of cultivation? Would those years be lost to him forever? His lips parted, questions teetering on the brink of utterance, but he held back. After a moment of contemplation, he affirmed his commitment, "I agree to the terms. Any cultivation you require from me, you may take."
The system acknowledged his consent with a simple, "Understood," before returning to silence.
Amidst this exchange, Armad did not allow his offensive maneuvers to waver. Astonishingly, steps began to form under his feet, providing him leverage against his opponents. At that very moment, a bender, powerful enough to be at the peak of Jemai, attempted to ascend the wall using these steps. Overcome with fury, Armad harnessed his cultivation power and directed it through his legs, pressing down with such force on the bender's head that all the bones within were crushed. With the same ruthless efficiency, he demolished the adjacent wall and the one being climbed by the bender, causing the collapse that resulted in the death of the five individuals trying to scale it.
Turning his attention to the steps in front of him, Armad used his fist to pulverize them, and as his hand moved, it released a torrent of lightning that obliterated the steps.
Again, Armad employed his fist, this time to launch an aerial assault against his enemies, sending forth balls of lightning with a mere flick of his wrist. The enemies, though, had anticipated such an onslaught. Whenever Armad unleashed these attacks, only a select few would step forward, manifesting a magical wall to serve as a bulwark against the storm. These protective walls managed to dissipate half of the incoming attack's power, leaving the rest to continue on its destructive path. Yet with the attack's potency reduced by this shield, the damage inflicted upon Armad's adversaries was significantly lessened, posing a lesser threat to their ranks.
Armad’s strategic acumen pierced through the haze of battle. It dawned on him that the enemy’s ability to nullify the potency of his attacks was no mere chance—this was a calculated maneuver, undoubtedly orchestrated by the King’s Legions. Within their ranks, they harbored a cadre of Sammai, masters of arcane arts capable of summoning magical walls. These benders did not waste their efforts in futile attempts to breach the town’s fortifications. Instead, they assumed a more insidious strategy, standing their ground with stoic resolve. Each time Armad’s forces unleashed a volley, the Sammai would swiftly conjure their spectral bulwarks, effectively shielding themselves and allowing their comrades to conserve strength. Their patient strategy was a clear testament to their meticulous preparation for this siege.
That strategy utilized by the enemies is why despite the unyielding barrages executed by Armad and his trusted Commander Silaini, the death toll among the enemy’s battalion was meager—a mere 2,000 had fallen from a host that numbered well over 30,000. But the Sammai were not the only threat lurking within the enemy lines. The King’s Legion, the object of Armad’s deepest loathing, stood at the ready alongside the monarchs of the nine allied towns and the formidable echelon benders. These forces, commanding powers that far exceeded those of the common foot soldier, chose to bide their time, a lurking menace behind the scenes of the battlefield.
Today, Armad sensed a shift in the air, a departure from the previous days of combat where the echelon benders and their ilk would remain passive, comfortably ensconced behind the front lines. Today carried an air of finality—the inevitability that the battle would culminate in a decisive outcome, with one faction claiming absolute victory. The evidence of this impending confrontation was clear in the positioning of the kings. Their proximity to the town walls, a distance no greater than 200 steps, was a silent declaration of their readiness to engage. It was as though they had already entered the theater of war, albeit without having yet directed their forces into open confrontation. Their eyes, keen and calculating, observed the unfolding melee, waiting for the opportune moment to strike, for the tide of battle to reveal the opportune moment to commit their full might and turn the scales in their favor.
From the distant vantage point, one can glimpse the countenance of the King of Konfot, his expression is still devoid of joy. Yet, a newfound sense of assurance has taken root within him, dispelling the shadows of his former anxieties. He holds a firm belief that with the staunch support of the King’s Legion and the united front presented by his fellow sovereigns, they are destined to emerge victorious in the looming confrontation with the young prince and his dominion of Tiriba.
While Tiriba is not the most diminutive amongst their towns—indeed, it boasts a size greater than that of three others—it does not claim the title of the largest; that honor belongs to the town of Fida. Nevertheless, King Konfot harbors a deep-seated conviction that victory is within their grasp. What preoccupies his mind, however, is the potential toll of the battle on his people and the subsequent state of his town, particularly in light of the loss of one Deba. Now, with only a single Deba remaining—a relatively green one, who has only just shed the title of Pre-Deba—the challenge of defending the town appears daunting. King Konfot is thus compelled to engage in careful deliberation, devising a strategy to fortify his town in the aftermath of the battle, for he is keenly aware that the solidarity of their current alliance is but temporary. He predicts that discord will arise at the moment they begin to distribute the spoils of war. Consequently, he must navigate his path to ensure the protection of his town.
These contemplations are not unique to King Konfot alone. The other rulers share in the sentiment that the battle’s outcome is a foregone conclusion—a triumph waiting to happen. Their musings are now directed toward the aftermath: the logistics of dividing the booty and determining the ramifications for their respective regions. The region, encompassing ten towns, is now faced with the repercussions of one town’s fall—the redistribution of resources, the realignment of power dynamics, and the recalibration of their strength relative to one another. These are the thoughts that simmer in the recesses of their minds. Their strategic focus is not fixated on the mechanics of achieving victory in the battle itself, for in their hearts and minds, they are unwavering in their belief that victory is inevitable. They are instead preoccupied with the post-victory landscape, the delicate balance of power, and the intricate dance of diplomacy and strategy that will inevitably follow the clash of swords and shields.
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As the kings were lost in contemplation, Armad’s gaze had taken on an ominous red hue—a testament to the fury of his onslaught against the encroaching enemies. His transformation was not just superficial; he had activated his Miyura, which drastically improved his cultivation level. In addition to this inner augmentation, Armad drew his Sword of Wilberforce. He invoked the latent strength within his skin and summoned the potent forces of his inner world, becoming a formidable force on the battlefield.
Armad now stood as a figure of dread among his foes; their bodies lay strewn in his wake, a grim reminder of his lethal efficiency. His mastery of the speed technique known as Kaban Shisu rendered him a blur on the battlefield, a specter that moved with such swiftness that he seemed to be everywhere at once. One moment he would appear at the wall’s edge, delivering a devastating attack, and in the next instant, he would vanish only to reappear at a different segment, continuing his relentless assault. Those who crossed his path were met with swift decapitation—their heads severed as cleanly as if they were mere leaves caught in a gust of wind. To the left, a trail of fallen enemies marked his passage, and to the right, the same scene of carnage unfolded, as if the soldiers were not flesh and blood but mere chaff before the scythe.
The enemies were incapable of tracking Armad’s movements; such was the awe-inspiring velocity at which he maneuvered. They could only perceive the aftermath of his ferocious attacks—slashes and stabs that spoke volumes of his martial prowess. In an audacious display of combat acumen, Armad would occasionally plunge into the heart of the enemy ranks, cutting down numerous adversaries before effortlessly returning to the safety of the town’s walls. There, he resumed his campaign of terror, dispatching those who had dared to penetrate the town’s defenses with the simple flicker of his lethal intent.
Amid this chaos, unbeknownst to many, three Debas were deep in tactical discussion. One Deba stood out, his presence emanating the profound essence of the Origin-of-Deba level. His companions, though formidable in their own right, held the rank of Province-of-Deba. However, the disparity in their cultivation levels did not breed complacency; they regarded him with cautious respect. The reason for their wariness lay in the unique cultivation seal that the Origin-level Deba possessed—a potent legacy bequeathed by his forebears.
This cultivation seal was no ordinary artifact; it was a catalyst for transformation that amplified the bearer’s latent abilities. Although the Deba had not reached the zenith of cultivation, the seal permitted him to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with those of higher echelons. Its influence did not extend to his cultivation level directly but rather intensified the innate power of his physique.
Whenever he channels cultivation into his muscles, they become extraordinarily tough. This individual is named Nura Bayajidda, and the seal he inherited from his parents is known as Shaibal Dishu. This seal has merged with his very flesh, granting him the unique ability to safely direct the flow of cultivation energy into his muscles. While common benders risk catastrophic injury if they attempt such a feat—their muscles would simply explode from the internal pressure—Nura’s muscles thrive on this energy. This is a stark contrast to the typical approach where spiritual patterns are employed as a safeguard, isolating the muscles from the potentially destructive force of cultivation to prevent damage.
Nura’s extraordinary capacity for channeling cultivation may be attributed to either his Bayajidda bloodline or the potent seal he carries. With each infusion of cultivation, his muscles not only grow tougher but also more formidable; they scale in durability with the amount of energy they absorb.
Since reaching the level of Pre-Deba, Nura has been invulnerable to the attacks of benders at the Origin-of-Deba level; their attempts to harm him have been futile. His progression didn’t stop there: upon ascending to the Origin-of-Deba level himself, he now stands untouchable even to those who have reached the lofty Province-of-Deba level, provided he channels all his cultivation into his musculature. Furthermore, this enhancement of his muscles yields not only increased toughness but also a significant boost to his speed, giving him an edge in both defense and agility. In the presence of the two Debas he currently faces, Nura’s abilities suggest that he is their equal, if not superior. Apart from the commander of the King’s Legion and the King of Fida himself, there is no warrior more formidable than Nura Bayajidda. His status as one of the two preeminent echelon warriors under the King of Fida, who is currently in combat against Commander Salaini.
On another note, among the remaining two Debas at the Province-of-Deba level is a man of royal descent—the elder brother of a king. His disinterest in the throne led him to abdicate in favor of his younger brother, who now rules. Although less interested in governance, the elder possesses greater cultivation prowess; he has surpassed the Origin-of-Deba level where his sibling currently stands and has achieved the Province-of-Deba level, underscoring his eminent status.
The three benders, each a formidable echelon warrior in their own right, are now embroiled in a strategic discussion about Armad and the methodology they will employ to secure victory against him.
The world-weary traveler amongst them, who relinquished his birthright and the opportunity to rule in the wake of his father’s reign, has gleaned techniques and knowledge from his extensive journeys that far exceed the other two. His voice carries the weight of experience and mastery as he addresses his companions, outlining the plan they will enact.
“If you observe, you’ll notice that his strength has reached the level of the Province-of-Deba. However, it stems from his Miyura. I visited the capital city of Wilberforce and met with several locals, which helped me understand that his current strength is temporary. Let’s give him 10 minutes; then you will see his strength, borrowed from the Miyura, fade away. His cultivation level might drop to that of the Peak-of-Sammai or Origin-of-Deba, as the strength he wields now cannot last indefinitely.
“What remains to be considered is how many people he will harm in these 10 minutes before his cultivation level diminishes, providing us with an opportunity to apprehend him. Can we afford to wait and risk more lives? I doubt any of us wish to see our soldiers’ lives lost unnecessarily. But what are your thoughts?” The speaker allowed them to share their advice having already expressed his.”
Nura Bayajidda was silent for a moment before responding, “I think waiting is futile. We are the ones entrusted with his capture, and I believe the time to act is now. Though we were not told explicitly when to act, we were instructed to discern the appropriate time for ourselves—and this seems to be it. Even if we don’t capture him on our first attempt, if we engage him in battle, his forces will diminish rapidly. Soon, he will no longer be a threat, even with his battalion. But what is your opinion?” He turned to address the individual at the level of Province-of-Deba.
The person at the level of Province-of-Deba paused before saying, “I too believe that waiting is pointless. Furthermore, our leaders are observing us from behind. Isn’t this an opportunity for us to distinguish ourselves? Remember, after this battle, someone will be appointed to govern the town of Tiriba. If we were the ones to capture him, wouldn’t the reward be substantial? This town of Tiriba is significant—we could gain women, land, and Airids, not to mention all the other riches of this world. And let’s not overlook the king’s legion watching us. Imagine the recognition we would receive for demonstrating our valor. People from urban areas often underestimate us because we hail from rural regions; they fail to respect the power of our cultivation. This could be our chance to join the king’s legion—an honor never before bestowed upon someone from our region.
Especially you, Nura Bayajidda; as the youngest and most vigorous among us, you have the best chance of joining the legion. Don’t you see the potential for you to be part of the King’s legion if you exhibit your bravery now?”
A spark of warlike desire and a yearning for recognition began to surface in Nura Bayajidda’s eyes. It was clear to see who was the youngest among the three.
At that moment, it was evident that the trio had resolved to capture the individual known as Prince Armad.