Sev woke up with one of those sinking feelings. Odd things had been happening for the past few days. Strange people were visiting the sect under the cover of night, and both his father and his sister were cagey about what had kept them so busy. It wasn't hard to connect two and two together, but he had no clue who the people were. He imagined that there were at least two groups of people, one conspiring with his father and the sect, and one conspiring with his sister to undermine said sect. Sev was the only person in the world who could get along with both of them. He didn't know which one he should be more worried about. The Venom Mountain sect was clearly getting more powerful: for every battle they lost to the vamps of Meladiva they won three others. While the strongest warriors on both sides were an even match, the sect now had twice as many. The discrepancy got larger and larger at all power levels save the weakest, and no amount of pathetic thralls could break the well defended border towns. The war soon reaching a conclusion should have been unmitigated good news for the sect. Unfortunately, politics were not so simple.
He emerged into the sprawling training fields. It should have been more populated, but the older generation was split amongst missions, cultivation, and politics. No one made time to instruct or inspire the next generation. No one except for Sev.
The first to notice him were the core disciples, sharp senses trained in battle. Like a wave, attention towards him spread outward. As he had for months, he would come forth and take any challenger in any manner. He had yet to lose.
The first challenger came up to him without speaking. Lazar, nominally the same cultivation as Sev. A foundation built, ready to break through at any time. Lazar had been challenging him for the past few months, ever since he had "caught up". But everyone knew what would be proven once more. Despite Sev's cultivation staying put for the past two years, the gap had only widened.
Sev took a single dagger out of his belt. Good for throwing and great for stabbing, but a poor opponent for the spear that Lazar wielded. No niceties, no formalities, the first few moves as choreographed as a chess match. They both knew the score. The spear came for him. His dagger knocked the point over his shoulder. Lazar transitioned the momentum to a kick with his right foot, a feat impossible without the supernatural strength and control that came with a body with a well built foundation. An arm pushed that to side and for the first time Lazar diverged from the pattern. Lazar's left foot pivoted as his right leg pushed against Sev's forearm, transitioning momentum into an improvised roundhouse. An inspired movement, that would have been brilliant if he had a spear.
What cultivators often failed to realize was that strength did not merely make one hit harder; it changed the very physics of a fight. Sev released the block and ducked under the blow, letting the kick run straight into his dagger. Physically impossible without superhuman reaction speed.
With it, well. With Sev's duck Lazar's leg ran into the dagger as Sev's now free left hand grabbed the other side. Should he wish it Lazar's leg could have been stabbed to and through bone, and his body smashed against the stones as it happened. They both knew it.
With not one word spoken and only a few seconds passed, Sev pulled the dagger off and flung Lazar. It was good practice, and Lazar had gotten a lot of it. He landed on his uninjured leg as Sev scanned the crown for other challengers. He would happily practice with his spear, but he liked to get all the challenges out of the way so that he wouldn't be interrupted.
A trio of mid stage foundation disciples were just about to muster the courage when he felt a poke on the back. He turned around, dagger ready.
"Sister. Rare to see you at the training grounds this early in the morning."
Dressed in a formal fighting kit to boot. The patterened and glossy greens sparkled in the morning light, but the ornate robe was cut practically. She was here on business.
She struggled to meet his gaze. The bloodline legacy was stronger in her than him, and so stress alone turned her worried eyes to slits and some patches of her skin to scales.
"Mother didn't tell you, did she? We have to talk. Somewhere private. Its urgent."
She looked at him, and he saw a bead of hope in her eyes. Tell him what? It was either his father's secret or his sister's, and regardless he wasn't looking forward to the consequences.
"Lead the way."
A flash of relief. Scarlet Kraitchild was rarely this timid. She was - and knew she was - the strongest inheritor of the bloodline in a few hundred years, and a talented cultivator. Also unabashedly headstrong, and the most openly antagonistic person to his father in the entire sect.
Sev followed her into the crypts. The central complex was usually reserved for the sect head, but his father had made so that the whole family could all use it. It had the best cultivation room into the sect as well as the Glutton. It was also impossible to spy on, and when activating the entry talisman one could find out who was there.
Scarlet opened the entryway for him, and they walked in.
"Is this father's secret or yours?" Sev asked.
Scarlet breathed in and out. "Both. Actually."
Sev raised his eyebrows. "Do tell?"
"Father is terrible. He only cares about power. He spends most of his time making sure the strength of the mountains are balanced so that no one can challenge him, and would rather raid, steal, and subjugate than free those poor people in Meladiva. Elder Ang effectively handles the training of disciples, along with you. When you form a soul he will replaced in a heartbeat. Even though it's not true people think that the reason you aren't advancing to core is that he's pushing you not to, which says how terrible of a father he seems and is."
Uncharitable, Sev thought, but true. What was missing was the upsides of the strategy. The mountains balance of strength made competition between them stiff, and the raiding had spread the vampires' few strong practioners thin, made the sect rich, and allowed maintaining a strong border against incursions. The strategy was effective for the sect, and his father did not care a whit for the poor souls ruled by the vampires. Or any souls that could be described as poor, for that matter.
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"Its unlike you to beat around the bush. What did he do?"
A further breath. In and out, slow and measured. "He made a deal with someone he really shouldn't have."
The Martial Alliance? No, sister didn't care about that. She liked those self righteous purists, as much as they would distrust her on sight. That left two options. The vamps hated him, so it was really one.
"A dragon? Impressive." Sev chuckled.
He saw a spark of anger, and Sev stuffed the grin.
"He made a deal with the Gourmand. That monster treats his people worse than his cattle. How could we be allies with them? A breath that torches cities, with not a care for the people."
"Why would that stop father? The alliance is strategically sound. We will soon share a border with them, and we are both fighting the Franaross. He'll keep it a secret, and the Martial Alliance will have their hands to full with the Dragons to do more than thank us for weaking the vamp front."
The only way that the plan would hurt them is if-
He saw the indignation on his sister's face. Wait. Stop. He connected the dots, and one secret became two. How did she find out? His father would never tell her. No, forget that. A speculation was dawning on Sev.
"I'm not going to like your secret, am I?" He intoned carefully.
"The Venom Mountain is borderline abusive. I couldn't wait for you to lead, not when every day-"
He whirled and broke for the door. He didn't want to be right, but he would warn his father and sect regardless. He didn't want to hurt her, but if she stopped him the survival of the sect would justify giving her some bruises.
The pantry door burst open, and five people walked out. Two stepped towards him, two he recognized.
Las Tederiki of the Franit School, and Kama Rikaran of the Derossa Academy. Former rivals who he had crossed blades with on more than one occasion each.
His father had doomed the sect. His sister was a traitor. There were enemies within, and an invasion approaching.
His skin transformed scales, his eyes shrunk to slits, and his heart turned to stone.
With a roar, he lunged.
They should have had the element of surprise, but Las and Kama had squandered it. Franarossa did not believe that disciples should fight in wars until they had either finished studying or formed a core, but how was one supposed to be at home at the battlefield if one did not grow up there?
His qi had been primed in his legs the second he had made the connection, and his body was flying forwards. Las got his sword to block the spear strike aiming for his heart, but the tip easily danced towards his neck. His head ducked out of the way, but blood was drawn and venom flowed into the wound. Sev did not have quite the touch with qi control that his sister had, but he cut the actually detrimental effects and maximized pain. The antivenom charms the brats had probably prepared most likely wouldn't counteract that, and the twerps probably weren't used to mind shattering pain.
He tried to wheel the butte of his spear into Kama, but the girl was quick. A jet of air hit him straight in the stomach as the wood hit her side. He dug his spear in the ground to kill backwards momentum, pushing against the protective enchantments laid by a practioner long dead and much stronger than him. A second blast of air came in that fraction of a second, but this time he broke the blast with the back half of his spear and slammed his spear into her like a hammer.
Ineffective, in theory. But Sev believed himself to be the strongest person under core for a reason. Kama was sent flying across the room and slammed into a stone bookshelf. Sev used the ground the kill the momentum of his spear once more, and rounded on Las.
The wimp had barely recovered from the blast of pain, and the shield that tried to block Sev's thrust was feeble. Las had neglected body cultivation, like most, but while bolts of fire and lightning were much cooler than tough skin they did not stop the star iron tip of his spear from bunching through skin, muscle and bone. The extra shot of white hot pain inducing venom qi might have been overkill, but Sev was in the mood for overkill.
The other three had just broken through foundation establishment. They were putting up a brave face, but they weren't moving against him and he needed to cripple Kama first-
"You'll be protected! Scarlet bargained for your freedom! All disciples will be rehoused!"
The call surprised him, but not enough for him to miss breaking the blast of air flying from Kama's hands with the haft of his spear or stop the his spear tip from drilling into the second shoulder of the night.
He wheeled on the trio. Had they not all jumped him for that stupid of a reason?
The room rumbled, as a message played from the emergency communication formation. Elder Ang's voice resounded. "THE SECT IS UNDER ATTACK. PREPARE FOR BATTLE AND RETREAT TO THE CENTRAL MOUNTAIN."
Not unexpected. He needed to get out there, and fast.
"A lesson, for the lot of you: play to win first, and to bargain after. For not attacking me I will leave you with four functioning limbs. You should have all fought me, and offered mercy at the tip of your blade. We could have come to an agreement. Now?"
He turned, and cast his sister with as cruel a grin as he could muster.
"Mother told you, didn't she? You think she didn't forsee this? She does not care for the sect except for what she can take from it for herself and the two of us, but... if you think father hates the Martial alliance, well. Mother would raze heaven and earth to see it burn."
He should leave. Every second counted. But the bile in his throat could not be denied, and the dawning realization of his sister's face would be worth it until he went outside and faced the consequences.
"Sister, if you are going to be a traitor that dooms this sect I have worked so hard for at least be a competent one. Mother would not have told you if she didn't want the Martial alliance here. Take the time to welcome your newfound friends to mother's trap: some of them will likely spend a lifetime here."
He knocked the three chumps in front of him to the side of the wall in one sweep and ran out.
A cry shook the mountain from the skies above. The call of the dragon, the most ancient of races, As he darted towards the exit of the, a roar rose from the depths of the mountain to match it. The call of the beast that every member of the sect paid homage to, a true descendent of divinity.
Some part of Sev was worried. He really did love the sect, and he had discovered over the past year that he loved teaching, didn't mind the challenges, and loved building something. He was proud of the training grounds. All challenges now required the permission of both parties, and all disciples were required to work for elders for fewer than four hours so that they could spend adequate time cultivating and training. The architects of what was about to unfold did not feel the same way. His father saw the sect as a useful tool, his mother a resource to be exploited. His sister actively wanted it destroyed. The sect might not survive the day. His father would sacrifice it to protect himself if the battle was going south, his mother would use it as a tool for revenge and his sister might actually push for its downfall.
Despite all this heart beat in his chest, and it was not from fear but anticipation. He had only had seen a serious soul stage fight once in his life. It had been Elder Ang fighting one of the vampire lords, and while it had been insanity to watch he understood that both of the combatants were at the weaker end of nascent soul. He had never seen either of his parents or the Glutton give it their all.
He would either see the absolute peak of the martial world today, or watch a dragon and serpent go on a rampage. Either way, he would bear witness to a battle that would be told of for the rest of his life.
He would also be at a constant risk of death from errant strikes. But as his mother, his accursed mother, always said, he was a cultivator of the old blood. Heart of hearts? He wouldn't have it any other way.