Good morning,
A quick announcement for everyone. If you join Discord or are already in Discord, you will see a new category with channels at the top. There, you can see the progress on what I am doing for Volume 1's book publishing and the Kickstarter.
That's right, I'm doing a Kickstarter. Why am I doing a Kickstarter, some of you may ask, when I have a Ko-Fi? Simply put, self-publishing a book is costly. I am well over 6-7 grand already with artwork, editing costs, fees, and such. I still have a few more things to go as well, so I'm expecting it to rise.
Also, Kickstarter is a great way for me to give back to you and get the help I need to cover the costs. You can see some of the things I have planned for it if you join Discord and check the channels out.
Thanks again, and as of now, the Grandmasters are two regular chapters (minus the epilogue and side stories) away from the end of Volume 7.
*Sorry, Webnovel readers. I have no idea why the chapter didn't post...but it's here now.*
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Kaladin Shadowheart's POV.
After dinner, I made time to sit down and speak with my father in private. It was something I tried to do on a regular basis with anyone when I could, grabbing a family member and just sitting down to talk. Or, in most cases, just be in the same room as each other.
It was therapeutic in a way, even if we didn't talk about anything particularly important.
I watched my father take a long sip of his tea. The corners of his mouth scrunched up slightly as he let out a sigh.
"You know, I never truly understood the appeal of this stuff…" he mumbled.
"That's because you've never had an amazing cup of tea," I said.
Dad raised his eyebrows at me and tilted his head. "Oh, is that so? I don't recall seeing you drink tea at all," he mentioned.
"That's because I don't."
Dad blinked in confusion and put down the cup. "So…you don't like tea either?"
"Mostly."
Dad's confusion grew as he looked away for a moment. "But…you basically just said that the only reason I don't like tea is because I haven't had good tea…and if tea made by maids of the royal family isn't good tea…then what is?"
"Master Maran made me a cup of tea once. It was by far the best tea I have had in my life," I said simply.
Dad shook his head and chuckled. "I don't think comparing some of the best tea in the world made by a man who has been making it all his life is very fair."
"But you just compared tea to tea made for the royal family of a kingdom. Doesn't seem very fair to me," I pointed out.
"I suppose not," Dad said with a shrug.
"Dad, why did Terstus drop out of the tournament like that?" I asked bluntly.
Dad closed his eyes and let his brows crease as he seemingly went into deep thought. He mulled over my question for some time in silence before opening his eyes again.
"I don't know. The Shadow Clan isn't afraid of running away from a suicidal fight against a monster or in a war. But backing out of a duel against your peer is one of the ultimate form of cowardice," Dad explained.
"And if word spreads, then his chances of having a favorable outcome in the bid to be the next chief would be greatly diminished," I added. "But doesn't strength outweigh everything?"
Dad nodded slowly. "Yes, it's true we recognize the strongest as the head of the clan, but someone who would run from a duel would be ridiculed by everyone. Although I never saw it happen, I wouldn't be surprised if multiple challengers took the opportunity to take power and apply immense pressure. So, if Terstus truly wanted to be the next head of the clan, then what he did was closer to political suicide than anything. He should lose many supporters…"
"What you are saying is that the reason for him leaving must have been so great that he was willing to sacrifice his place as the next chief?" I concluded.
Dad narrowed his eyes with a pensive look. "That's right."
"If you had to take a guess on what the reason is, what would it be?" I asked.
Dad slowly closed his eyes and sighed. "The death of a family member, perhaps. Or a sudden attack from an enemy. Severe illness or injury could be a possibility…I really can't say for sure, Son."
I returned his sigh. "I understand. It's all guesswork for the time being, anyway. There's no way to know without asking him ourselves."
Dad settled into his chair, looked at me with seriousness in his amethyst eyes, and asked, "Kal, about your next fight. Are you going to kill that kid?"
"Yes, I'll be killing him," I answered simply.
"I see…he was one of the people that made your life harder while in Sandervile, right?"
I nodded. "Yes, he was a thorn in my side for a long time. That was until I cut his hand off and took his Spatial Ring," I said as I rubbed the nearly destroyed ring dangling from a chain on my neck.
"Do you hate this person, Kal?" Dad asked hesitantly.
Hate…do I hate Dillian Stav?
"No, I don't harbor any real hatred for him. I don't like him one bit, but I wouldn't say that I hate him," I answered. "It's true that he is a means to an end for me. I also get a form of revenge for Tsarra and myself in a way. She's family and what he did to her is unacceptable."
"Means to an end…" Dad mumbled. "Is all of this talk of war truly what you want, Kal?"
"Of course not. But it seems inevitable at this point, with the Holy Kingdom allowing armed paladins to waltz up to the nobles' villas demanding things. If King Maxwell and I were not present, they might have truly tried to kill all the guards and rush into the villas to cause even more havoc."
"With Sandervile causing their own problems with trade and Luminar being opposed to slavery, a clash with the City State Federation may also be around the corner," I explained.
Dad rolled his hands over themselves in his lap as he stared down at the floor. There was a long, drawn-out silence between us. But before he even said anything, I already knew what it was that he wanted to say.
He wants us to run. But we can't, not anymore.
"There's no country too far. No cave is too deep to hide us anymore. Sylvia, Cerila, and myself…there may be a time when most of the world knows our names or at least what we may look like. It's better to live close to those who can help us. Or so I believe," I said, cutting into the silence.
Dad smiled bitterly. "I know. That's what makes all of this so hard…I don't want you or anyone else to fight in another country's war. There's not enough honor or piles of gold to replace a lost life…"
I know, Dad. I know all too well.
"What about his weapon? That hidden blade or magic that I couldn't even see with my own eyes. Do you have a plan for that?" Dad questioned as he stood up.
"Naturally. Very few things can remain invisible against me."
"That's good. Then in that case, make him pay for what he did to you and Tsarra."
"I will. He'll regret it all," I said with a nod.
"And please, make sure to take Mila and Dallin somewhere else. I don't want them to see what I'm about to do."
—
Dillian Stav's POV.
"Now! Let us welcome the very noble knight of Sandervile, Dillian Stav!"
The crowd roared in approval at the mere mention of my name as the large doors swung open. The screams and shouts of the arena were exhilarating. The energy of the place was abuzz, and I could feel the entire place shake me to my bones. This tournament was truly a special event and a special event called for a special moment.
I think the defeat of the Dragonslayer would do. What more of an underdog story could there be?
I waved to the crowd, and I could feel their excitement. Sure, that gutter Elf was a fan favorite, being the hero of the continent and all, but there was no doubt there were many, many people who wanted to see him fall. After all, I checked the betting rings, and although I was slated for a loss, the amount of people who wanted to see me win was far higher than someone expected.
It was probably thanks to my win over that Elf. Her illusion magic was tricky, but it was all for nothing if she was never able to use it in the first place. A mage needed to concentrate, and nothing broke the concentration of a mage like a slice through the gut.
Sadly, I couldn't kill her, although I did want to very much. But it would have caused an uproar with the Elves, and that was something we couldn't afford at the moment.
But no one said anything about a good thrashing and humiliation. Haha, the look on her face was priceless, coupled with that fool's intense glare of defeat, and I'd say that everything up to this moment was worth it.
The referee motioned us to meet in the middle, and I tilted my head in confusion. I had been so focused on the crowd that I hadn't even noticed what that gutter Elf was wearing.
He wore the usual Luminar garb meant for melee fighters, which was nothing of note. His intriguing spear, which he had used ever since defeating that dolt Adrianna, was in his hands. Yet, for some reason, he was wearing a beat-up bronze mask to cover his face.
The mask looked hideous. It was marked with large scratches and was dented inwards at random places. For some reason, it also hid his right eye, which was just downright idiotic as it undoubtedly played havoc on his vision. Not to mention, it unnecessarily changed the color of his left eye…
"Are you trying to hide from someone?" I teased as we reached the center.
However, no answer came. The gutter Elf remained still and looked down at me with his single blue Dragon eye. I had to admit that, of all the things, puberty had been kind to that runt more than most. He may be taller than me now and possess more mana, but that didn't matter if he died instantly.
"Well then, I wish you the best of luck," I said as I extended a hand.
Of course, he just looked down at it as if he couldn't be bothered by even showing a minuscule amount of sportsmanship. But, that was to be expected, after all…
"I suppose once a slave, always a slave. The concept of honor might just be too foreign to you after all," I chuckled as I turned to walk away and back to my position.
"Honor? There's no honor in what I'm about to do to you," he said in a low voice.
At least we can agree about that.
We made it back to our starting spots as the stadium roared for blood. I gave a few final waves as the referee made to start the match. I formed the connection with the dungeon item using nothing but my mind and prepared it.
I couldn't even see the weapon with my eyes, nor could I hear it either. It was a type of connection that was more akin to using a Spatial Ring, but somehow, it was different. The ability to control it felt like second nature, not directly implanted into my mind. And, ever since I "bonded" with the weapon, which turned it invisible, I had just decided to ignore the eccentricity of it all.
Making sense of an A-ranked dungeon item like that was beyond most men. It was better to take it for what it was worth: a powerful weapon meant to slay unsuspecting fools.
The referee dropped his hand to start the fight, and I made my move. Sadly, I couldn't just hover the blade over him and kill him immediately. There would be no doubt there was foul play mixed in, and I would surely be punished for it. However, that didn't mean I couldn't position my blade closer to him. After all, there was no way for anyone to tell how fast it actually was.
With his silent and impending death heading straight for him, the Dragonslayer sank the golden horn side of his spear into the ground with a thunderous boom that cracked the very platform we walked on. It was a showy move for sure, but nothing more because he would be dead in a matter of seconds.
And I would finally have my revenge.
Suddenly, my invisible sword was nearly upon him, with movement I couldn't even track with my eyes. He simply reached out and, somehow, somehow, he grabbed the sword by the blade and thrust it straight into the stone platform. A large pillar of stone formed and surrounded it, encasing my weapon. I couldn't feel anything through my sword, but I could tell when it wasn't responding to my commands.
It had been immobilized completely? No…was it destroyed? How is that even possible? The weapon makes no noise. It cannot be seen with the eye. Even Sir Bril struggled to notice it.
This is… impossible…it's like he knew it was there the entire time…
I turned my attention back to that bastard as he casually made his way toward me, even going so far as to leave his weapon behind. Was he planning to humiliate me by not using magic? That would be his end; I wouldn't be bested in such a meager manner.
"Was this all your hatred and revenge had to offer after all these years? A simple party trick?" he asked as he nearly reached me.
"We'll see about that—"
I was cut short mid-sentence as he moved toward me with frightening speed. His arms and legs were clad in yellow lightning, and I barely dodged his fist and swung my sword in return, but he stepped out of range perfectly.
"Mediocre sword skills to match, huh? Your hatred must not have burnt that hot after all," he mumbled.
"You bastard slave…how dare you look down on me again! Kn—know your place!" I shouted as I swung my sword at him.
He dodged so casually, as if he was taking a stroll and was just barely staying out of my range. It was frustrating to no end. It felt like no matter what I did, he was just too fast for me.
Finally, he stepped into me. It was what I had been waiting for. I increased the mana to my body for a burst of speed and thrust my sword forward. But it never hit.
I felt my bones creak and shutter as it felt like I hit a brick wall. A piece of stone had wrapped around that bastard's arm as he deflected it to the side. Then—
Gah—
Huh? I—what? What happened? Did I black out? I—
Smack.
My head rolled back and, once again, I lost my train of thought. I had been hit in the jaw twice with such force it felt like a carriage had run me over. I was seeing stars and was ready to vomit as my vision blurred and my world spun.
I felt someone grab me, and all I saw was the dark blue eye glare at me as another series of punches rained down upon me. The searing pain shot all through my body, but no matter how much I tried to beg to end the match, no words came out—only pained moans.
I—I can't move my mouth…he destroyed my jaw. Ah—
I tried to crawl away. I had to get out of bounds by any means. At this rate, I would die. I—
My face was forced into the floor, and all I saw was blackness. But his deep, apathetic voice spoke to me in a calm and eerie way. I felt the cold bloodlust roll over me to my core, just like that time in the forest.
"Don't try to surrender. If you do, there won't be anything for your family to bury."
He released some of the pressure and I was able to look up at his blurry visage. I wanted to kill him with everything I had. There was no way this fool would kill me. I would become a—
"Look at you; I can see it in your eyes. You think I won't kill you? That you will become a martyr if you die? The last person who said that to me…no one even remembers his name. All your revenge amounted to this: a one-sided beating that lasted a mere few minutes."
"So get up and fight like your life depends on it, Dillian Stav. Show me and everyone else that honor you were barking about earlier. Or is your version of honor kicking people when they are down?"
I heard him walk away from me. The noise of the crowd was a muffled mess, and as I tried to get up, I fell over multiple times with a dizzy head, and I think I even vomited. I had to prop myself up and reach for my sword to steady myself. I wasn't even sure how long it took me to stand up because that Elf bastard had already grabbed his weapon and was facing me again.
"Pathetic."
I swung my sword in rage but stumbled in the process. Everything felt so slow, and I couldn't focus on what was in front of me. Then, there was a blur after a series of loud cracks. Something hit my body in multiple places as black holes littered my body, fresh blood dripping out of them. The pain must have been so intense that I didn't even feel it.
My vision shook soon after as if I had been caught up in a windstorm, and for some reason, I was looking up at the sky, and all the pain went away, as did any feeling in my body.
It was so cold…so very cold.
My vision focused, and I managed to look down somewhat. There was a long spear impaled into me, and I had been hoisted into the air. A cold blue eye glared at me. There was no emotion behind that eye. He must have not felt anything at all. I can already imagine what his dark and menacing face looked like behind the mask.
Is this how I die? The end is so cold…and filled with nothing.