Path of Dragons

Book 7: Chapter 51: Master

Book 7: Chapter 51: Master

Elijah let Shape of Thorn fall away, and he stood statue-still in the center of the circle. Even the blood – of which there was quite a lot – had disappeared, leaving the tiles entirely pristine.

The old man stepped into the circle.

When he was ten feet away, he stopped and studied Elijah. His eyes settled on the Feral Spire, and he nodded. A second later, an unadorned quarterstaff appeared in his hands. It was as long as the old man was tall, which Elijah put at a little more than five and a half feet. In that respect, Elijah and his foe were almost identical, though he knew that he was a bit heavier than the old man.

“What is your name?”

“Elijah Hart. You?”

“I have no name. I gave it up to join my order.”

Elijah wasn’t certain if that had any basis in reality or if the system had simply chosen an easy excuse for it not to come up with a backstory. Whatever the case, it supported the air of mystery hanging over the shrine as well as its occupants.

While Elijah pondered that, the old man asked, “Are you sufficiently prepared?”

Elijah cocked his head to the side, then said, “One moment.”

Then, he activated Shape of the Master. The transformation took a little more than a second, but it came with a disorienting shift in perspective. When it was complete, he found himself looking up at the old man. Elijah rolled his narrow shoulders, then tightened his grip on the Feral Spire.

“I’m ready,” he spoke, somewhat surprised at how deep his voice had become. It crackled like a campfire with every word, and tendrils of smoke drifted up from the corners of his wide mouth.

The old man bowed, and Elijah felt compelled to do the same. A heartbeat after they’d both completed the respectful gesture, the old master sprang forward. He moved so quickly that Elijah knew that if his reaction speeds hadn’t been so enhanced – by his current form, the Sash of the Whirlwind, and Lupine Reflexes – he never would’ve even seen the staff screaming toward his head.

As it was, he managed to throw his own staff up in a block.

However, what he had not expected was for that speed to translate into power. The Feral Spire was knocked aside, and Elijah skidded sideways across the smooth tile. He let himself tuck into a roll that dissipated his momentum before he leaped to his feet, ready for a follow-up attack.

None came.

The old man remained in place, looking slightly perplexed that his attack hadn’t landed. His staff – which looked to be a mundane piece of cylindrical wood – arced with blue-and-white energy.

“You are more than you appear, shapeshifter,” the master stated.

“As are you,” Elijah countered, his voice crackling. With the block, Evasion had failed to activate, which meant that Heart of Fire had not ignited. He recalled the spell’s description:

Evasion

Each dodged attack builds a charge of Heart of Fire.

Clearly, he would need to actually avoid contact if he was meant to ignite Heart of Fire. However, he did recognize that the fight against the old man was the perfect opportunity to truly test the limits of his newest form. He’d used it against the abomination in the metro, but that creature had been far enough below him that it had never been an even match.

The old man was. He might even be stronger than Elijah. Certainly, he was faster. The only reason he felt confident about his chances was his enhanced reaction speeds. But even then, the outcome of the fight was no sure thing.

And that excited Elijah.

With his competitive juices flowing, he stepped forward, his staff at the ready. The old man didn’t speak before he launched another attack – this one, a blistering combination that alternated between high and low and ended with an overhand strike that should have crushed Elijah’s skull. The man moved like water, his every motion flowing into the next without a hint of hesitation. @@@@

Elijah dodged them all, leaping over the low sweep, then throwing himself backward to avoid the follow-up swing. Then, he danced to the side, dodging the overhand attack. The old man’s staff clacked against the white tiles, echoing through the chamber. Even as the sound bounced from one wall to the next, Elijah felt his Heart of Fire ignite. It was barely a spark, but the warmth in his chest was incredibly comforting.

“One and the same, young one.”

After that, the battle resumed. Elijah didn’t let his concentration slip, but it felt like he was back to square one. He took a few hits here and there, but none were as effective as the last major blow. Yet, as the hours passed, he continued to learn. No person was infallible. Everyone made mistakes. And every fighter – no matter how skilled – fell into patterns. Elijah only had to find the old man’s.

However, it was almost ten hours into the fight when Elijah realized that he was following the wrong path. Focusing outward was all well and good – necessary even – but it was only a piece of the puzzle. He also needed to look inward, to control himself as precisely as he monitored his opponent.

With that in mind, he delegated that task to one facet, and he immediately found a thousand flaws. Movements that he had taken for granted – like a simple jab with his staff – were now obviously inefficient. Correcting each one individually would only result in a slight improvement, but taken all together, they could make the difference he needed.

Elijah shifted another facet of his mind to that endeavor.

Retraining muscle memory was always difficult, largely because of just how much focus it required. However, with Elijah’s Jade mind on the task, it became easier. Only slightly, but that was enough that he could enact real change in a relatively short amount of time.

Hour after hour, he focused on the inefficiencies of his fighting style, and in doing so, he began to land more blows. It would take quite a lot of time and practice to cement the changes into new muscle memory. Weeks of focused training, at the very least. Perhaps months or years. But at the moment, he didn’t need to go that far.

He just needed enough to finish the old master.

After a particularly furious exchange that resulted in Elijah landing three successive hits, the old man broke away. Between gasping breaths, he said, “You learn much more quickly than I expected. The time for sparring is finished, though. I hoped to spare you from this fate, but my mission is clear. I am sorry.”

Then, the old man slammed his staff into the floor, shattering the tiles. A second later, he thrust his weapon into the air. Ethera swirled, gathering around the staff, then snaking down its shaft and into the old man. Glowing blue veins bulged on his forehead as energy raced through his body. He opened his mouth to say something.

But by that point, Elijah had had enough.

He only had a few over forty charges banked in his Heart of Fire, but he hoped that would be enough to at least disrupt the man’s spell. He opened his mouth and used Incinerate.

The old man’s eyes widened as a column of dense flames engulfed him.

Elijah immediately knew it wouldn’t be enough to kill his opponent outright – which was a testament to how powerful the old man really was. However, when the flames died down, he was surprised to see that the old man had not survived intact. His skin was broken and blistered, and his staff had turned to ash. One of his arms was missing from the elbow down, and his clothing had been entirely incinerated. The skin beneath was so charred that Elijah wondered how the man was still alive.

But he was.

Albeit only barely.

Elijah stepped forward, intent on putting the man out of his misery. Yet, when he drew within a few feet, he saw a slight twitch that triggered one facet of his mind. He dove to the side just as a beam of blue-and-white energy erupted from the old man’s chest. It hit the wall on the other side of the chamber, but it didn’t stop there. Instead, everywhere it touched simply disappeared.

It was obviously a similar power to what Elijah had seen from the white dragon in his core vision. Not as powerful – he could tell that much – but it clearly had a similar origin.

When Elijah looked back at his foe, he saw that the old man had collapsed. He was still alive, though each breath was labored. He shuddered in obvious agony.

“I’m sorry,” Elijah said, standing over him.

“Don’t be, young one. There is no shame in defeat.”

Elijah disagreed, but he couldn’t quite articulate why he felt that way. Nor was he inclined to explain himself. Instead, he raised his staff, half expecting the old man to lash out again. He did not, and when Elijah’s staff fell, it found no resistance.

The old man’s misery ended with a crushed skull, and Elijah received a notification saying that he had received the Blessing of War.

He barely read it. Instead, he just turned, shifting back into his human form as he strode toward the exit.