The King managed to block one of them and dodge the second, allowing it to knock out a huge chunk of the Palace’s foundation. However, Primus couldn’t deal with the third blade. Such an attack could send even a Heaven Soldier to the other world. The ghostly sword never touched Primus’ mighty chest. It struck a black dagger’s protruding hilt instead. Another powerful explosion sounded and Primus was thrown twenty yards back. Spitting blood, he stood up and assumed a stance that resembled an executioner preparing to end someone’s life.
“Army of the Wind,” he said aloud, using every trick he could to help him focus.
His hand turned into a blur as the sword struck out hundreds of times, leaving behind bright, dark tears in the air. Pouring out of each of these cuts, ghosts woven from the black wind floated toward Hadjar — skeletons in armor with glowing eye sockets. They held various kinds of weapons in their bony hands and grinned, wanting to devour the enemy.
Hadjar sank to the floor. The wind ruffled his clothes. Assuming the ‘Spring Wind’ stance, he felt whirlwinds of power rising up around him. The hieroglyphs on Moon Beam flashed with white light. Due to the power that was currently surging through the blade, the metal began to crack.
“Strong Wind!” Hadjar used the very first of the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique’s stances. In the past, he had been able to summon a simple whirlwind with blades hidden inside it with the help of this stance. Now, he’d called forth a huge tsunami of cutting wind and enraged dragons.
The army of black skeletons faced the dragons. They tore at each other, cut and clawed. With their every collision, wounds and cuts appeared on the bodies of Primus and Hadjar. After all, it wasn’t simply the Techniques fighting, but the warriors themselves.
Another explosion threw the two foes in different directions. Hadjar dragged himself up the stairs. Wheezing, he plunged his sword into the marble and stopped. A stream of blood was pouring out of his mouth. It seemed like his internal organs, already damaged by the Governor, had failed. Soon, Hadjar wouldn’t be able to fight or even breathe...
Primus was hurled into the wall by the explosion, then fell to the floor. His left arm was bent at an unnatural angle. The King, growling, slammed his shoulder against the marble. With a loud, nasty crack, the joint fell into place, but it was obvious that the King could no longer move his fingers.
“Your father would have been proud of you, Hadjar,” Primus smiled wryly, rising to his feet.
Blood flowed down his face. Thrusting his sword into the floor, Primus tore off his ruined breastplate with his good hand, exposing his mighty torso. There wasn’t a single spot not covered in scars, burns, and old wounds on his chest.
Hadjar also got up. He didn’t rip off his only outfit, just discarded his top. His sweaty skin welcomed the coolness of the wind.
“Let’s continue,” Hadjar spat and turned into five ravens again.
Chapter 253
Hadjar made an overhead swing, forcing Primus to go on the defensive. Then, stopping suddenly, he kicked up a whole cloud of stone chips, which immediately flew into the King’s eyes. Blocking the enemy’s vision, the General, using the inertia of his sudden stop and his agility, bent his arms sharply and the attack, which had previously been aiming for the head, now soared toward the King’s ribs. Using such a strike, Hadjar could’ve defeated many warriors, but not Primus.
After fighting in thousands of battles, the King knew why his opponent had used such a maneuver. Angling his blade vertically, pointed toward the floor, Primus blocked the strike, using his sword like a shield. This meant Hadjar was defenseless for a moment. Through his haze of pain, Primus grabbed his opponent by the throat with his weakened left hand. Putting his whole body into the motion, he threw Hadjar across the room like he was no heavier than a toy. While Hadjar was in the air, the King launched another dark wind attack. Hadjar realized that he wasn’t fighting a run-of-the-mill enemy, not even someone merely as skilled and powerful as the Patriarch had been. The King of all Lidus was his foe, someone who had been using the ‘gifts’ of the Empire for many years.
Aching all over, Hadjar landed on the wall and pushed off, jumping forward. The world slowed down for a moment. Hadjar flew right above the black wind. He stared at it, and within its darkness, the shadows of Primus’ long ago defeated enemies stared into his blue eyes.
Hadjar landed next to Primus. If the former General didn’t have sufficient experience in battle, then the King had too many battles under his belt. This had made him complacent, as he’d been fighting for so long that he’d begun to fall into patterns and rely on what had worked before.
Primus hadn’t expected Hadjar to simply push off the wall and jump over his Technique. Nor had he expected that Hadjar, unable to reach his enemy with his blade, would resort to kicking one of the marble slabs again. A stone fragment blasted through the air like a cannon shell. Primus broke it with his fist. Nevertheless, this moment of distraction was enough for Hadjar to exploit.
He grabbed Primus by the throat and, mimicking the actions of his enemy, threw him, but not at the wall. Instead, he launched him up toward the ceiling. While Primus was in the air, Hadjar pushed off the ground. Once he was above the King, he roared, using the ‘Spring Wind’ stance and swung his blade down.
A roaring dragon materialized from his
