41: Beware Of Gods Bearing Gifts

Vir was not happy.

Maiya was off training with Tanya, no doubt learning more secrets of the mejai.

He could’ve been spying on them right now, absorbing the mejai’s teachings—knowledge that might help him unlock the secrets of his own prana. Instead, he was stuck here, forced to duel Riyan against his will.

Of all the times he could’ve picked, why now!?

Balancing on one leg atop one of the dozens of vertical posts Riyan had installed in the training dome, he glared at his instructor, eyes full of loathing. If he had to fight, he at least wanted to wipe that smirk off of the smug man’s face.

The obstacle course had dominated the dome before, but it was downright bursting now with the addition of the posts, which ringed the base of the course. Each post was positioned a few paces apart—not quite close enough to step onto, but close enough to reach with a small jump.

The man stared back at Vir, smirking as he balanced on his own post with ease, thirty paces away.

“You fall, you lose. Begin.”

Vir sprang into motion, leaping aside. As always, this duel would have to be swift if he wanted any chance at victory, or his stamina would rear its ugly head.

The dozens of wooden posts were about five paces high, so a fall from this height wouldn’t kill him, but it wouldn’t be fun.

Months ago, Riyan had wiped the sand with him. But he wasn’t the same as back then. He’d grown. This time, he didn’t intend to lose.

Vir fired off a chakri that sailed past Riyan, landing harmlessly in the sand below.

“Were you aiming at me? Or over there?” The man said, pointing to the sand as he leisurely hopped from one post to another.

Vir didn’t take the bait. He hurled another chakri, which went wide as well.

Apparently, Riyan had seen enough. Realizing that Vir was no threat from afar, the man jumped his way to Vir, often skipping posts with his leaping strides.

And he isn’t even using Talents, Vir thought. The man had so many advantages; it wasn’t even close to fair. But despite all that, Riyan had walked right into his trap.

Vir jumped, meeting Riyan head on. When the man was just ten paces away, he threw a chakram. This one sailed through the air, directly on an intercept course with his head.

Riyan’s speed worked against him, reducing the time he had to dodge the incoming strike. Yet somehow, using reflexes that shouldn’t be possible, the man brought his katar to bear and deflected the steel blade with a clang.

What he didn’t deflect was the chakri that followed immediately behind. The smaller blade sliced a deep gouge into his cheek, leaving a trail of blood.

Vir hadn’t idled. Immediately after throwing the disks, he charged, slicing down with his katar, but Riyan was there to meet him with his own.

Their blades locked, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Riyan’s bristled with confidence. Vir’s glowered with determination.

Riyan moved first.

Balancing on one leg made any kicking incredibly difficult, but the rules didn’t seem to apply to the man, who swept his dangling leg at Vir, threatening to knock his support out from under him.

Vir didn’t allow it. Seeing the attack, he jumped back, landing gracefully on the post behind him. Prana Vision literally gave him eyes in the back of his head when it was active. And right now, it was roaring at full steam.

Vir attacked once again, a flurry of motion and steel. What he lacked in strength, he made up with speed, launching attack after attack at Riyan, forcing the man onto the defensive.

Except, Riyan’s defense was more than his match. Even after a dozen strikes, Vir hadn’t landed a single hit. Rather, it felt like Riyan was deflecting each of his attacks in a way that destabilized him.

The message was obvious. The man was saying he could knock Vir off his post without even having to attack.

Vir was never one to blindly bash his head against something. The moment he realized he had no chance of winning a frontal engagement, he backed off, attempting to put several posts in between him and Riyan.

He was too late. Riyan’s blade came like a wraith, silent and deadly. Vir twisted, avoiding the savage strike, taking a nasty gash to his forearm instead.

But Riyan’s attack had robbed Vir of his balance, and he slipped off of his post.

At this rate, he’d fall, and it would be his loss.

No badrakking way!

Wrenching his core muscles with everything he had, he twisted and reach out a hand to stabilize himself. His left arm gripped a post while his right leg straddled another.

It worked, but it left his back exposed.

Riyan didn’t hesitate to take advantage of this opening. He jumped, clearly intending to smash Vir’s back into the sand below.

But Vir wasn’t without ideas. He’d spent months running scenarios in his head against Riyan. And he’d come up with several potential solutions. Untested, of course, but what better time to prove his tactics?

Vir threw a chakri, not bothering to check whether it’d hit his opponent, then sheathed his katar and grasped the log post with both hands, allowing his legs to fall. Now, he was hugging the side of a single post with all four limbs.

Instinctively, he leaped out of the way onto another post before climbing back up, regaining his position. Riyan’s diving attack hit nothing but air.

Variation C, he thought, shifting his stance. If a storm of swords wouldn’t work, he’d have to rely on movement.

Vir bounded from post to post, circling Riyan like a vulture. The man merely observed, amused. But when he dove in, Riyan’s smirk shrank just a hair.

Another chakri flew at Riyan, and Vir was right behind it. If Riyan blocked the disk, he’d be wide open for Vir’s incoming attack. The proper move was to fall back to another post, but Vir knew the man had too much honor to do that.

Riyan moved slightly, allowing the chakri to graze his other cheek while bringing his katar up to deflect Vir’s thrust.

How can he even do that? Vir thought.

The man hadn’t even blinked at the deadly chakri. Most people would flinch out of instinct, but if Riyan felt fear, he certainly never showed it.

With Riyan about to block his strike, Vir ducked low, attempting to swipe the man, but his opponent jumped up at the last moment, allowing the katar to pass harmlessly under.

Vir didn’t even wait to see what his instructor retaliated with. The moment his strike missed, he was already jumping away to another post—and not a moment too soon. Riyan’s blade swiped at where his ankle had been just a split second ago.

The pattern repeated for several more exchanges. Vir would jump in, attempt an attack, only for Riyan to block or dodge, forcing Vir to escape within a hair’s breadth.

The tides turned the instant he ran out of chakris.

Without his ranged weapons to distract the warrior, Vir lost his only chance, and his body was tiring out.

The battle paused for a moment as the two fighters locked eyes.

This next encounter would be the last; Vir had to end the fight now, or he’d be forced to surrender. Prana Vision flared as bright as ever, but his body could take no more. His heart threatened to burst and took everything he had not to retch.

Riyan made the first move. He sailed through the air, katar strike telegraphed from a mile away.

A feint? Vir thought. It had to be. There was no way a seasoned warrior like Riyan would attack with such an amateurish move.

Unless… unless that’s exactly what he wants me to think.

The prudent move would be to back away, but Vir was on a timer, and Riyan knew it.

Disobeying every instinct he had, Vir lunged with a thrust of his own.

Didn’t see this coming, did you?

The look of surprise on Riyan’s face filled Vir’s veins with catharsis.

Riyan aborted his attack, killing his momentum as he passed over a post. But Vir had already committed. He dove through the air, straight for Riyan.

Realizing Vir was on a collision course with him, the man did the only thing he could. He cheated.

Riyan Leaped away, leaving Vir sailing straight at an empty post.

He could’ve recovered. He might have thrown his katar away and grabbed the post. He might have twisted his body and somehow stepped onto it.

He did neither. He crashed spectacularly into the post, his arms doing little to protect him. Then he tumbled onto the sand.

Riyan loomed over him. “What happened?”

Vir looked up at him. “Do that again,” he said. “The Talent you just used. Do it again.”

Riyan cocked a brow, clearly expecting a different reply. “Leap? You have seen it before.”

“Humor me,” Vir replied. “Please?”

The Ghost of Godshollow shrugged, then activated his Talent. To Vir’s eyes, it looked like he’d simply disappeared and reappeared a short distance away, but the grains of sand that had Riyan kicked up told a different story. He’d moved really, really fast. Inhumanly fast.

But that wasn’t what made Vir’s eyes pop.

“Are we done here?” he asked his mentor.

Riyan nodded. “You have come far, boy. But you’re still green. We will duel every day from now on, and I expect you to grow and perform at a higher level with each consecutive fight. Do not disappoint me.”

The man stowed his katar, but paused before he left. “Is it true that you can see prana, Vir?”

Vir’s eyes lit up. “I can. I’m not lying.”

“This is very difficult to believe. Such a thing should not be possible. And yet… your affinity is black, you say?” he asked, stroking his beard.

“Yeah. I know it’s not supposed to exist. I don’t know what to make of it. Can you convince Tanya to let me learn alongside her? I won’t slack in my training, I promise.”

But the man slowly shook his head. “Tanya refuses. She can be quite stubborn about such things, I’m afraid. And I am unconvinced that it would be a fruitful use of your time. Perhaps if you develop a Talent or two, I may reconsider.”

With those words, he left the training dome, leaving Vir alone.

Well, that’s progress, I guess. Though, after spying on Tanya, he truly wondered whether her tutelage would even be useful.

Vir turned his mind to their duel. He wasn’t angry or frustrated at his loss. Far from it.

Because he’d just seen something. Something that couldn’t possibly be, and yet clearly was. Something Riyan had outright denied, yet was true.

The man had said Talents didn’t use magic—had said it so confidently that Vir never even thought to question it. And yet, Prana Vision showed a steady stream of Earth Affinity prana leave the ground and enter his body through the soles of his sandals, flaring brightly the moment Riyan Leaped.

The realization crashed upon him with the weight of a Godhollow.

“Talents aren’t gifts from the gods!” Vir whispered. “They’re magic. Earth affinity magic!”

He looked down, deep into the earth which overflowed with prana. His blood circulation wasn’t quite enough to show him the ‘black’ prana that lurked down there. But he knew it exited. Perhaps only in tiny quantities, but it was there.

And so it stood to reason he could tap into it, just the same as Riyan had.

Vir plopped down onto the sand, crossed his legs, and began to meditate.