I took a combat stance, gripping a training sword with both hands, waiting for my father to make the first move. A gentle breeze blew clouds of sand across the training area within our residence in the capital.
My mother watched us from a nearby stone bench, and in the distance, servants peered from various windows, failing to hide their curiosity.
Without a word, my feet slid across the ground, kicking up sand as I launched the first strike. My sword sliced through the air in a horizontal arc, but my father was faster; he raised his blade into a defensive position, blocking the blow.
The strength of two pure-blooded Wendigos was immense enough to create a shockwave upon impact. Our weapons shuddered, vying for dominance, but in the end, my father stepped back, allowing my attack to carry through and strike empty air.
The sudden lack of resistance caused me to stumble forward, and my opponent seized the opening, thrusting his blade toward my chest. I barely had time to recover; I twisted my sword into a downward swing, pinning the incoming weapon against the ground and cracking the stone with a sharp noise.
Wasting no time, I released one hand and threw a punch at my opponent's face, but father—experienced as he was—saw the attack coming and caught my fist in his open palm.
The air was displaced around us, and just as before, we engaged in a contest of strength, our arms trembling as we tried to overpower one another. There was no victor; I used my Arts to bolster my strength, and he did the same, maintaining the stalemate.
Left with no other choice, I abandoned my sword, freed my other hand, and threw another punch—only for it, too, to be caught in the grip of the man before me. It didn't last long: a shout of pain and surprise escaped his lips when I headbutted him, causing our skulls to collide.
"Dammit, Buldrokkas'tee! What's gotten into you?! Can't you go easy on your old man?"
My father exclaimed, stepping back while clutching his forehead.
"Oh, now do you mention your age? That doesn't seem to be a problem when you're throwing yourself into the thick of the enemy—unless the 'old man' excuse only works when it's convenient for you."
He fell silent for a moment, sighing before muttering something and walking over to my mother; she laughed, rising from her seat and pointing her staff at him to heal his wounds.
Meanwhile, I retrieved the training swords, clicking my tongue in annoyance as both shattered into fragments. I knew I should have asked for them to be reinforced.
I set them aside and walked over to a covered area where more weapons rested on racks, picking up a large bow and a quiver of arrows. I then approached the straw targets, stopping a fair distance away.
I nocked an arrow and aimed at the nearest target, but the moment I applied a little more force—hearing the wood and string creak—I heard a snap.
SNAP!
There was a moment of confusion as my arms lurched further than intended; a glance revealed that the string and arrow were in one hand, while the wooden bow itself remained in the other. I clicked my tongue again, adding another broken weapon to the pile.
"Buldrokkas'tee, this has gone too far. What's troubling you? You've been acting strangely ever since you returned from the expedition."
I looked at my mother, who was standing beside my father. The Wendigos' skulls didn't allow for much expression, but it was obvious they were worried. I didn't answer immediately, looking away and thinking about what to say. Leaving them worried made my stomach knot, but I hated admitting that something was bothering me.
"During the expedition, I realized that Kazdel—and the world itself—are far greater than I had imagined. No matter how strong one might be, there are always people and monsters out there who are stronger. I've come to see that my Arts, brute strength, and weaponry aren't enough; I need to grow stronger, learn more, and expand my arsenal and skills so I don't find myself defenseless against an adversary that cannot be defeated by steel and fists alone. Eventually, I will find myself leading armies, so I must be prepared to serve Your Majesty to the best of my abilities—or else I'll be left behind. It doesn't feel like what I'm doing is enough; learning to use new weapons, strengthening my body... it feels like I'm making no progress at all."
I didn't know which hurt more: the feeling gnawing at me from the inside or admitting my weakness out loud.
"Oh, Buldrokkas'tee, you are still young; you have a long road ahead of you. You shouldn't worry about that; your peak is yet to come."
I snapped out of my stupor at the gentle touch of my mother's hand on my shoulder, nodding as I let out a faint laugh.
"I understand the feeling; I went through the same thing when I was younger. You feel like you aren't getting anywhere, don't you? That usually changes once you start seeing results, but..."
My father spoke next but trailed off mid-sentence, bringing a hand to his chin in deep thought.
"...Perhaps I know someone who can help you. I have a friend who owes me a few favors. Maybe he can teach you how to push beyond your limits."
"Who?"
My father didn't answer immediately; he simply smiled broadly. I had heard servants remark that seeing a Wendigo display expressions typical of people with flesh-and-blood faces was unsettling.
That always irritated me, because from where I stood, there was nothing wrong with it at all. Or so I thought—until I saw the grin splitting my father's skull. I couldn't help but wonder what the old man was plotting this time.
"Dear, what are you thinking?"
My mother spoke, her tone far from happy as she shot him a glare through narrowed eyes.
"Nothing, nothing…"
"Rujrokkas'tee, I've been married to you for centuries. I know when you're up to no good. I hope you aren't thinking of putting our son in danger."
"Well…"
-XXXXXX-
The more I think about it, the more I believe my father just wanted to get rid of me so I'd stop breaking weapons and injuring instructors during training. Who knows how much money I've cost him so far?
Putting that aside, I approached the grand temple in the noble district surrounding the castle. Each member of the Royal Court governed their own territory, but they also maintained a residence in the capital.
The guards at the foot of the steps had already been notified of my arrival and didn't stop me; they simply gave a nod, which I returned. I moved forward, reaching the top and passing through the massive entrance arch, which was adorned with pillars and dark stone walls covered in carvings.
The interior was dim and nearly empty, occupied only by the occasional guard or servant. The floor was covered in white carpets—matching the banners on the walls—and the space was lined with statues and braziers burning with a faint flame that shifted between green and blue, making the shadows dance around us.
I hadn't expected an attack, yet the lifelessness and darkness made my body brace for combat. Eventually, I reached my destination: a pair of stone doors that opened without any visible force, releasing a stench of rot that made me gag and revealing a vast chamber where several tall, gaunt figures wrapped in white bandages—the Nachzehrers—were gathered.
"Buldrokkas'tee, son of Rujrokkas'tee and Jurrennas'kee, we have been expecting you."
The white-clad crowd parted, revealing a Nachzehrer not unlike the others, save for the fact that he walked hunched, using his staff as a cane, and spoke in an oddly friendly tone.
"I hope my visit isn't an inconvenience."
I replied, bowing respectfully, which made the man chuckle.
"Ha, no, no—I'm glad to see my friend's son hale and hearty. But I admit, I didn't expect to receive a message from your father after all this time."
"If I may ask, how did you two meet?"
"On the battlefield! Where else do Sarkaz meet these days? We saved each other's lives time and again—though Rujrokkas'tee is ahead by a point—but you aren't here to listen to an old man's stories, are you?"
"Exactly, sir…"
"Ilai."
"Ilai. I was told you could help me become stronger."
"Hm… Certainly, but do you have what it takes to survive our methods?"
"I believe there's only one way to find out."
"Oh, I like your determination—so be it!"
Spreading his arms, Ilai took flight, his bandages flowing in the air as the other Nachzehrers stepped back, forming a circle around me. I immediately assumed a combat stance, shield and trident at the ready, hearing the old man's voice echo through the air like thunder.
"TODAY I WILL SHOW YOU WHY WE ARE KNOWN AS THE PERSONIFICATION OF WAR!"
END OF CHAPTER