Chapter 646 p2 unedited unmemed

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Finally. Khishigs of the Bekhai, worthy opponents for Vithar and his tribesmen.

A much needed challenge, one he would savour and relish. The western province was a land of plenty once you learned how to uncover the hidden wealth beneath its sand, and his tribe had grown fat and lazy from luxury. A culling was needed, not because the tribe could not support such numbers, but because the ancestors demanded it. How could his people remain strong without struggle and conflict? Weakness was death, even in these rich southern lands, and Vithar people would not become fodder for others seeking to grow strong.

What a fool he’d been, to sit idle behind stone walls for so many weeks, lulled into complacency by soft beds and softer women. The searing sun was not a foe he was equipped to face, and though it was better to adapt and overcome the sweltering heat and become stronger for it, but exposing himself to its dazzling rays left him barely able to stand, and from there, he let his weakness set in and take root. Succumbing to weak, southern practices, he covered himself from head to toe in comfortable silks and slept through midday while slaves fanned his naked, sweating frame. He drank often and ate as he pleased, took new tribesmen and Champions into his tribe, yet only fought over streets and buildings behind stone walls when the prospect intrigued him, though most times he was content to enjoy the many comforts the southlands had to offer.

Weak. Careless. Vulnerable. Without a proper Enemy to face, Vithar had become all this and more, but still the Uniter kept his tribesmen back. There were explanations aplenty from the welps Hideo and Gen, that his garo riders were difficult to train and the beasts too valuable to risk, but Vithar erred in not arguing against this coddling. He enjoyed and delighted in the experiences these lands had to offer, but he saw now that all these luxuries amounted to was a slow and pleasant death.

A rude awakening awaited him on the lush, green fields of this land called Central. The southlander walls presented more of a threat than he first realized, and for days, he’d champed and chaffed at what he saw as needles caution, watching lesser, undeserving warriors charge out into battle and return with glory and spoils aplenty while he and his spent their days atop garos with little to nothing to show for it. However, Warleader Gongsun Qi could easily crush Vithar with a single hand, and such strength demanded respect, but the old, dark-skinned Warleader possessed cunning and experience too, as Vithar soon learned.

The southlanders were not as weak as he’d first expected, and their Peak Experts a sight to behold. The castle walls hid threat and danger aplenty, with many a powerful Warriors standing ready to defend them while hulking contraptions delivered death from afar. Time and time again, he watched stronger, faster, and more impressive Chieftains scale the southlander’s defences only to die upon spears and swords, and even Blessed Transcendents fighting in large numbers were unable to force their through. As much as Vithar yearned to test his own skills, a part of him also knew he would not fare better than many other Chieftains, and likely worse than most.

There were many names to learn, here on the battlefield, names of formidable foes like Akanai, Du Min Gyu, Binesi, and more, but Vithar lacked the strength to tackle them head on. A thrilling experience, for back home and even in Imperial North, he’d played the part of garo while those he met were mere rodents. Now, he himself was the rodent, and though he did not like the comparison much, he relished the chance to taste the blood of a foe more powerful than he. Not too powerful, mind you, as Vithar yearned for a challenge, not assisted death, and now, the ancestors had brought him to more worthy foes to face, these Khishigs of the Bekhai atop their fierce and delicious beasts. Upon closer inspection, he recognized the foe who called his name, the cunning half-beast welp who plagued him so outside the stone-walled village his tribe’s allies failed to take. It was there Vithar sacrificed Kalil of the Bekhai and tasted this worthy foe’s flesh, even sharing with his weakest tribesmen so that they might take in the valiant Warrior’s strength. He kept the heart for himself of course, for a chieftain must remain strong, but he’d found precious few worthy foes to sacrifice since, and yearned to taste it again so that he might soon become worthy to face even stronger foes.

This would be fun, a reckoning of sorts. The welp escaped death that night, and would hopefully be stronger for it, but Vithar did not expect much from this particular foe, one who was only memorable due to his frustrating longbows and night tactics. Vithar only sought out the welp because of his good manners, initiating a challenge and even announcing his name before blades were met so they could fight to their heart’s content, without Vithar needing to worry if the welp’s ancestors would know who killed him.

To his surprise, the welp left his longbow untouched and closed in to do battle face to face. Courage aplenty, but lacking in sense, this one was no different from the hot-blooded youths of Vithar’s tribes. No, check that, the half-beast was formidable in his own way, wielding a massive slab of steel with only a single hand, while his other arm was clad in steel from shoulder to fist. Two powerful weapons and a host of his Ancestors to guide him, the welp had come a long way since Vithar saw him last. Perhaps Kalil’s spirit was among them, and even responsible for their presence, which meant he might well be a worthy foe, for the Ancestors granted great power to those who listened.

They rode directly towards one another, and no other warriors saw fit to stand in their way. Trusting in the warnings of the Ancestors, Vithar released his grip on the reins and took up his axe in both hands to meet the welp’s one-handed attack. Overpower in the first exchange, then kill on the return stroke, that was his plan, but as axe met sabre, the impact threw him off his garo and sent him sailing back through the air, his ears ringing, arms throbbing, and hands numb. Snarling as he righted himself and sought a safe landing, he Lightened and set foot atop a tribesman’s shoulder, pausing just long enough for him to regain his bearings. Launching himself high into the air, he soared overhead of the conflict with a howl of challenge, his blood burning from the shame and humiliation he’d just endured.

Unseated by a welp, overpowered in a direct exchange, the Champions of Vithar’s tribe would see this and think him weak. For this, Huushal of the Bekhai would die slow and painful, screaming as Vithar’s tribesmen watched and laughed while his enemies bore witness to what he would do to them, should they ever find the courage to face him. The welp cooperated by riding out to meet Vithar, clearing the way with powerful swings of his sabre. Only now did he take note of his foe’s irregular grip, fasted around a metal hoop fixed to the base of the hilt, rather than holding the hilt itself. Hardly notable, but the Ancestors believed differently, informing Vithar of the error of his ways. A minor change in grip, but a sizable change in timing, meaning his Deflection, Amplification, and Reverberations had all been wasted as Huushal’s attack arrived slightly later than Vithar anticipated. This was the reasoning for his loss, a trick for the weak to deceive the strong, but a useful one nonetheless.

This time, Vithar got the timing right, and it was the welp’s turn to be unseated. Pleasing as it was to see his foe’s shock, his satisfaction was muted by the fact that he’d meant to kill the delicious mount with the follow through, but Huushal’s guard proved sturdier than expected and repelled his attack. The result of striking from the air, without firm ground or a sturdy garo beneath him to bear his weight, but now he and his quarry would fight on foot. The welp was eager to die, rushing in with an overhand sweep which Vithar deftly avoided, grinning as he watched his foe work himself into a frothing rage. Blessed by the ancestors, this one was, and were he not a soft southlander, Vithar would have considered accepting this Huushal into his tribe, for he would have made a fine Champion. Aggressive, but not reckless, powerful, yet cunning, blessed by the Ancestors, but not subject to their whims, the welp had the markings of a fine future Chieftain.

Which meant Vithar would take great pleasure in stomping this fledgling flat.

Thoroughly enjoying himself for the first time in weeks, he planted his feet and traded blows with the welp, savouring the powerful impacts and planning how to best demoralize and dismantle this foe. Though unwilling to accept a soft southlander into his tribe, Vithar wasn’t above accepting a southlander Transcendent, for they were the will of the Ancestors’ made manifest. Lashing out with a grin, he slipped in a blow and left a shallow cut on the welp’s cheek, just to let him know he was outmatched. As expected, this only infuriated him even further, his rage making fury driving him to risk life and limb to return the insult in kind. No longer content to stand in place, the welp backed out of Vithar’s range and stalked about the battlefield, left alone by the tribesmen and southlanders battling around them. This was a duel between two warriors, one Huushal’s comrades respected, which Vithar had never expected from weak southlanders. He heard Hideo say that these Bekhai lived in the far north of the Empire, where they endured freezing weather and sparse landscapes for many moons over a season. This was nothing compared to the homeland, but it was clear these ‘harsh’ conditions had born Warriors of repute within the Empire’s soft and plentiful borders.

Dragging the sabre through the dirt like a heavy burden, Huushal presented his armoured shoulder to Vithar as if daring him to strike. A trade then, a desperate gambit with his life on the line, hoping to accept a blow on his armour in hopes of delivering Vithar a killing strike, but he was not so foolish as to accept. Feinting a trade, he pulled his axe back with a smile and watched the welp’s sabre flash harmlessly by. Unable to let this opportunity pass, Vithar put an end to this fight by delivering a single, crippling cut to the back of his prey’s legs and severing the vital tendons there. Blood boiling as the welp let out a pained, helpless cry and tumbled to the dirt, he smiled as Huushal twisted about in a futile effort to bring his weapon to bear. No, this would not do, there was not yet enough fear and despair, so Vithar backed off and let the welp stew in panic.

Only to cock his head in confusion upon seeing Huushal push himself to his feet.

Healing then? How unfortunate. That made defeating the welp without killing him considerably more difficult. A challenge Vithar looked forward to, but in his excitement, he did not forget to keep a close eye on his tribesmen, and the battle was going poorly. More southlander cavalry had joined the fight, armoured from head to toe in unyielding steel, and now his tribesmen were caught between them and half the Bekhai, while the remainder gave his allied gajashias the run around. Fools, chasing after empty promises when a true battle lay so close nearby, but it was his tribesmen paying the price for his allies’ folly, so he no longer had the time to play.

Charging shoulder first towards him, Huushal’s sabre thrummed as it cut through the air, but Vithar did not stand to receive it. Stepping aside as if dodging a charging garo, he hamstrung the welp as he passed and shoved him into the dirt again. Casually dismembering his foe’s arm, he sent it flying off with armour and all before leaving Huushal to writhe in the dirt, his strangled scream doing little to raise Vithar’s spirits. Yes, his tribe needed culling, but not like this, caught in a battle they could not win. Charging into the fray, he killed two horsemen and a Bekhai warrior before rejoining his tribe, thinking it was well past time they withdrew to fight another day. Grabbing the reins of a blood-maddened garo, he jerked down to bring the beast in line, but the stubborn creature growled and snapped at his head. Backing away from the attack, he watched as the garo’s head burst apart as Huushal’s sabre struck it from the side, a throw which would’ve taken Vithar clean through the neck if not for the beast’s timely disobedience.

Yet another humiliation which must be answered.

Stalking over in a rage, he brought the welp’s sabre with him and tossed it at Huushal’s feet, and was only mildly surprised to see him stand with all his limbs intact. Troublesome, this Healing ability, but better to avoid injury in the first place. Raising his axe without warning, he delivered a crushing, overhand blow which brought the welp down to one knee, his sabre braced in both hands and held overhead to fend off the killing strike. A second blow broke Huushal’s right arm, and the sabre dropped, but he was still not yet ready to die. Blocking the third blow with his armoured left, he fell back into the dirt before Vithar’s onslaught, beaten, broken, but not yet defeated, his yellow eyes still burning with rage and desired vengeance. There was no chance to kill him slowly anymore, even with the gajashias finally lending aid to Vithar’s tribesmen, for the damage had been done and his people needed to withdraw, else he would become a Chieftain without a tribe.

Which is exactly what the Uniter wants.

Frozen in place with axe raised overhead, Vithar’s brow furrowed in bewildered confusion. Why would the Ancestors turn against the Uniter now? For many moons, the Ancestors urged Vithar to join forces with the Uniter, to bring bloodshed to the southlanders and reap rewards a plenty, but now they claimed the Uniter unfaithful?

How many other tribes have fallen before Imperial blades?

How many Chieftains and Champions still remain?

Why does he not share his armour and weapons with you and your tribesmen?

Where are the rewards he promised?

“Ye gonna take a swing, or ye feel like standing there all day?”

Blinking at the wizened form before him, Vithar took five steps back and still felt unsafe. The aged, silvered half-beast appeared weak and frail, but the Ancestors screamed at him to flee and retreat. Dangerous, too dangerous, for the Ancestors had only warned Vithar like this once before, and it was when he thought to plant his axe in between the Uniter’s eyes. Waving him off, the hunched half-beast snorted and presented his back, no doubt to check on the welp, but even then, Vithar lacked the courage to attack. Finding himself another garo, he ordered his tribesmen to retreat with all haste, and not a moment too soon.

Dark shadows emerged from darker clouds and the skies boomed overhead, but not with thunder to herald the coming of rain. No, this was the boom of Peak Experts arriving with all haste, and Vithar spotted a cloud of dust erupt from within his allies’ lines. Bodies flew as the ground exploded beneath this new arrival, hiding whoever had landed within, but the Warrior soon identified himself with a boisterous chuckle that echoed across the battlefield. “Gongsun Qi,” a crisp, high-pitched voice said. “Long have I, Mitsue Juichi yearned to test your mettle.”

Turning his gaze east, Vithar grit his teeth and growled, for there on the horizon, he spotted another army streaming towards them. Imperial reinforcements had arrived, and even Vithar knew the name of the Obsidian Shadow, one of the most powerful Warriors the Empire had to offer. Even as his blood heated at the prospect of true struggle, his body chilled as two more voices spoke out and spoke names he also recognized.

“Come now, comrade Mitsue,” a dry, passionless voice began, “Did we not agree to give way to our junior and let Comrade Ryo Dae Jung have the first try?”

“Thank you, Colonel General Shuai Jiao,” a third voice said, so plain and unremarkable Vithar would have difficulty identifying the speaker even if he heard it again, “But there is no need to quibble. I am more than happy to wait my turn, for there are plenty of Defiled here to keep me company.”

The Sword King and the Grasping Vine. Three Colonel Generals here on the battlefield, warriors to match Gongsun Qi himself. Though Vithar knew little of tactics and deployments, he suspected they’d overstayed their welcome and the Imperials would make them pay dearly for this.

Vithar had thought the southlands were ripe for the taking, but to his chagrin, this was a land of death similar to the homeland he’d left behind. Death in a different form, a slow, linger death, but death nonetheless, so perhaps it was time to rethink his options. Strength was his goal, glory and bloodshed his desire, but thus far, he’d found precious little of both here in the southlands. Returning to the Western province to resume old feuds and start fresh ones seemed far more appealing than being toyed to death by the Uniter and Imperials both, so perhaps it was time to speak with other Chieftains and see if their Ancestors had offered similar advice. At the very least, Vithar had no intentions of surrendering just yet, not to the Imperials, the Uniter, or even the whims of the Ancestors. He was his own man, a Chieftain and Warrior, one who’d forgotten the first rule of survival: to place personal strength above all else. The food, women, entertainment, none of it mattered, for without strength, anyone could simply take it all away.

Regardless of his decision, this battle was lost, but Vithar was certain he would not fall today, not with so many slower allies behind him.