“This doesn’t change anything, Atikus,” Hadjar turned away from the people and drew his blade.
Moon Beam flashed. Its steel light spilled across the clearing, cutting through a myriad of snowflakes and kicking up a thick snowstorm around them. When everything settled down, the two men had disappeared.
The rebels peered deep into the forest. They knew perfectly well that somewhere out there, a deadly battle between the Poor General and the Mad General was raging. They didn’t want Atikus, who had gathered them here, given them hope, trained them, and instilled a thirst for freedom in their hearts, to die. But they believed their Prince would be victorious. The man who would lead them, who, finally, would give them a chance to fulfill their blood vows that they’d made in this eternally cold forest of both doom and salvation.
***
They stood in the middle of the White Forest.
“I didn’t think witnessing the battle between their old and new leader would do the morale of the army much good,” Atikus commented.
“Agreed,” Hadjar nodded.
His hand was calm and his sword didn’t tremble. However, rage smoldered in his bright, blue eyes, comparable only to the wrath of a Lord of the Heavens whose millenniums of peace had been disturbed by stupid and greedy mortals.
One of the people directly responsible for the death of his parents stood in front of Hadjar. No matter what he said, no matter what stories he told, even if the gods themselves, along with a myriad of fairies, were to personally come down and intervene, they wouldn’t be able to stay Moon Beam — Atikus would die this day.
“I’m not going to hold back, my Prince,” Atikus drew his sword. The powerful trunks of the nearest trees bent from the force of this simple move. At the feet of the former General, waves of snow dispersed outward, exposing the frozen ground.
A decrepit old man no longer stood before Hadjar. He wasn’t someone deprived of any desire to continue the endless struggle for his place under the Endless Sky, but the legendary General from his childhood. The one whose blade had been feared by all the warriors of the surrounding kingdoms. The man who’d been an idol for the little Prince as he’d wondered which path he should take in life.
“I would be very disappointed if you did.”
They stood there, looking at each other. The world seemed to hold its breath. Snow fell on their shoulders. The crowns of the trees creaked. Somewhere far away, wolves howled, greeting the arrival of darkness, and, hidden from their gaze, the snowmen watched the beginning of their battle. They were the ones whom the Gods had assigned to judge the fate of these two people.
After their very first exchange of blows, even the most dangerous animals of the Forest decided to run and hide. Not because they were afraid of being harmed by the echoes of the distant battle. They just couldn’t bear the rage that was contained in one blade, nor the desperate, suicidal determination within the other.
Chapter 241
Hadjar easily dodged aside, letting Atikus’ strike pass by him. A black sickle of energy that had been launched from the former General’s blade cut several trees down and crashed into a boulder. The huge trunks fell with a crash, and two ideally smooth halves of the once whole boulder parted. Having crossed a distance of almost fifty paces, this attack would’ve brought glory to any warrior. Hadjar wasn’t sure that he would be able to do the same without the help of the ‘Spring Wind’ stance.
Atikus used the ‘Sky Piercing Slash’ Technique. After dodging it, Hadjar spun around with an almost inhuman agility. With each turn he made, a new stream of ghostly blades rushed toward Atikus. They turned stones and trees into little more than dust. Atikus, constantly retreating, repelled one ghostly attack after another. His sword fluttered like a black shadow, breaking each of the blades as they came. His body flowed like a wild river, and even when the former General’s blade didn’t manage to block a strike, he could still evade them.
Not a single blade was able to touch him. Even when Hadjar, snarling, stopped abruptly and flicked his wrist a couple of times, sending a stream of ghostly blades that was twice as large, he didn’t catch Atikus unprepared. The man pushed off the ground, whirled around between the two streams, and, even before he landed, sent another black sickle flying through the air.
Hadjar didn’t have time to dodge. He swung his blade, using the ‘Calm Wind’ stance. The enemy’s Technique hit the veil of gentle wind. This time, the Technique was visible even to the eyes of a mere mortal.
The dark attack, which exuded an aura of pressure and titanic power, tried to break through the veil. Before it almost succeeded, Hadjar dived to the side. Where he’d stood just a moment ago, a deep crater had formed in the ground. With a bang and thunderous crashes, felled trees struck the ground. Before today, only the Patriarch of that accursed sect had managed to force his way through the veil of the ‘Calm Wind’.
“Don’t be afraid of being in the air, my Prince,” Atikus said, out of breath. “But remember that you shouldn’t defend then, but attack.”
Hadjar snarled again. He was enraged by the thought that the traitor was trying to teach him in the middle of their battle.
He grabbed the hilt of Moon Beam with his both hands. A tornado of steely energy began swirling around him. He lifted the blade high above his head, and then swung down. The ‘Spring Wind’ stance, combined with his knowledge about the mysteries of the Way of the Sword, made for one of Hadjar’s strongest attacks.
The 35ft blade that had a ghostly, growling dragon within it, came down on Atikus’ head. This blow could’ve cut off a whole mountain peak or divided a small lake in two for a short time. However, Atikus
