The wind brushed against Hadjar’s clothes, touched his hair, and then disappeared. The world froze once again.
It was enough. Hadjar’s eyes flashed brighter than ever before.
Chapter 214
He hadn’t talked to the wind for a long time. Many long nights and grueling days had passed since then. However, when Hadjar was on the verge of losing his way, the wind helped him. Like a friend trying to pull their comrade out of an abyss, even at the cost of their own life.
It couldn’t hear Hadjar, but it had once again brought him stories of distant lands; stories of the dangers that lurked there; about the amazing things that awaited him if he pushed onward; about the mysteries hidden within the vast world. It relit a fading fire in Hadjar’s heart. It filled his hands with power, and made his sword sharper than ever before.
Hadjar stepped away from the buffalo and the world was engulfed by a storm. The waves were hundreds of feet high. The buffalo grew larger with each passing second. The sky turned black, lightning flashed, and it rained.
Hadjar grinned like a madman. He met the storm proudly and calmly. His sword didn’t tremble. He had fought against the buffalo. He’d tried to defeat it. But why? Why? His sword wasn’t meant for this. Of course, some people used their blades that way, but not Hadjar.
He had never truly been eager to fight, but had been forced to do so. After all, who else would’ve opened a path forward for him? Who would’ve come to the dungeon of an abandoned and forgotten cripple, if not the cripple himself? If the Mad General was a hero to the whole world, then who was his hero?
Hadjar tried to find his connection to the whole world. Once upon a time, he had felt connected to the earth, wind, water, and fire. He’d understood that he had been born from them and would return to them one day. It was inevitable. But if Hadjar had been born that way, then Moon Beam, which lay in his hand, also owed its existence to them.
Did that mean they were brothers? Maybe. On the other hand, if the sword had been born from the wind, then was the wind also the sword? Possibly. Hadjar didn’t understand that part yet.
The path of the ‘Wielder of the Sword’ had only just begun to reveal itself slightly to him. However, even that tiny shred of wisdom from the vast expanses of knowledge and understanding was enough.
Hadjar closed his eyes and breathed evenly. His wildly beating heart slowed. Vortices of energy weren’t circling around his legs and feet. He had the most innocent and serene look on his face. Only the radiance around his blade indicated that this image was a deception.
Hadjar swung his blade as awkwardly as a child playing knights and bandits. Between the raging ocean and sky, a small strip appeared. No thicker than a hair and no brighter than a fading candle. Then everything disappeared.
A black haze dissolved the fallen buffalo. The dark clouds dissipated and the sea calmed. The awakened sun flooded everything with golden light. Hadjar clenched his sword and looked at the endless horizon. The wind of freedom was blowing across his face.
Now he knew what his blade had been lacking. Strangely, it had needed more determination and force. Hadjar’s blows had always been held back by something. Something dark and heavy. Now, it had disappeared. It had evaporated just like the buffalo.
Hadjar saw the path of the ‘Wielder of the Sword’ before him. He hadn’t even stepped on it yet, but already knew exactly where to go.
“You’ve failed your test, General rejected by the Heavens.”
Hadjar opened his eyes.
***
He was once again standing in front of the Tree. The midday sun still shone into the mouth of the extinct volcano. All the time that Hadjar had spent in the artificial world had been a few seconds in the real one. As if it had all been just a simple dream.
“But I overpowered the monster!” Hadjar replied, outraged.
The Tree sighed sadly. The birds flew off its red crown and continued to circle around its rustling leaves. “Maybe you did, if fighting was what you were doing. But by defeating it, you lost. After all, your test wasn’t in the pursuit of victory, which you could probably attain... But in the defeat that you would accept, but you stand here without having accepted it. So, if you fought and didn’t lose, you’ve failed the test.”
Hadjar shook his head, trying not to let the Tree destroy his mind with its odd, semi-coherent rambling. “I don’t understand…”
“What do you think it is, General, that makes a king a true leader?”
Hadjar recalled the words of his father and repeated them: “Serving his people.”
“Not servitude,” the leaves whispered to him, “but humility. Humility in the fact that a king doesn’t live for himself. He forgets about his own dreams. About his own desires and aspirations. He only serves. It’s his fate. That’s the price of power — the loss of one’s self in it. That’s why, stupid General...”
Hadjar was startled to hear the words ‘stupid General’ coming from the tree.
“...The best rulers are those who don’t seek power. But, alas, those who aspire to it are almost always the rulers.”
Hadjar looked at his sister, and then at the Tree again.
“She isn’t being tested, is she?”
The Tree appeared to nod.
“She’s already passed her test. It was harder than you can imagine. If she is lying here, and you’re standing in front of me, then that means you’ve failed and she’s succeeded. Or, maybe we’ve just met. Or you’ll cut me down and then I’ll kill you and the whole Kingdom as well. If it still exists... If it ever even existed... If death still exists... If death was ever an entity roaming this existence.”
Hadjar decided not to answer that. He was going to stop the madness for
