Damnation: Dawn of The Apotheosis

LIFE ON A MOUNTAIN

Ashviel was not shocked by Master Vauxall’s cold reception, but shivered as the cold winds grazed his body. Suddenly, he remembered the dead bodies they encountered at the staircases.

“Those are the people who tried to climb Hogan without enough experience or skill.” Master Vauxall stated. But I removed the formations and deactivated the traps for you.”

“What did they intend to find at the end of the mountains anyway? Treasures?”

“You would not want to know about that.” Master Vauxall said, implying finality.

“So, what now?” Kael spoke at last.

“You continue your trainings at sunrise. You should get into that cavern there.” Master Vauxall said pointing at a cave at the side of a bigger rock.

Sunrise came earlier than Ashviel had expected and he found himself struggling out of bed. They had started the journey up the mountain before noon but arrived well past midnight. He soon recognized that his life on the mountain was not going to be the same as it was before.

As if the shivers caused by the gelid unforgiving winds of the mountain were not enough trouble, the high altitude made breathing almost impossible. The ground was frosty and each footstep sent chills to the spines of the young men as they trained.

Their feet were almost constantly wrapped in glacier and after every few strokes; they gasp for breath and struggle to stand upright.

The mornings were filled with herculean tasks. They got up at first light and raced through a long mountain path pre-marked by their master. When they return, he would ask them to lift heavy rocks across a distance and arrange them in such a weirdly complex fashion.

The harsh terrain, coupled with the frost and lack of air exacerbated the arduous task. It was so much of a hurdle that Ashviel feared that his slender friend might emaciate. He was however surprised to see that Kael was well adapted to the tasks and completed them with relative ease.

“Remove the environment and this kind of master,” he once said to Ashviel, “and this is regular Zeroszen training.”

As the days passed on, Master Vauxall altered Kael’s assignment to even difficult ones to compensate for the gap in strength and experience. Ashviel shook his head each time he wondered just how difficult Kael’s life must have been.

To make matters worse, Master Vauxall offered no leniency, as he allowed no pause to their sword trainings. He had given them steel swords in place of their wooden swords but still held on to his wooden one.

“A good strike,” he began during one of the training sessions, “has three major components: power, precision and speed. An omission of any renders the strike futile.”

A tall figure moved briskly across Orman castle, saluted fearfully by the guards as she passed by them. Meters behind her was a man in green uniform, struggling to catch up with the swift woman.

His uniform, though a bit similar to the guards’ ones in that it contained the emblem of both Capricorn and Crossing Rapiers, was markedly different. His were made from the finest clothes, fashioned by the most punctilious tailors, and done to meet the stateliest military designs. He had red and gold stripes running all over, his shoulders were trimmed with five golden stars, and his buttons—made of gold— were imprinted with an image of a golden falcon on one side, and two crossing rapiers on the other side.

“Lady Lyda,” he called her.

She stopped abruptly, “General?”

General Okhotnik walked up to her and regained his breath.

“I believe I made it clear that you are to relay any information to me first.” He demanded, making a poor effort to restrain his anger.

“The news was very important and I had to let you know as soon as possible. I did not think —"

“That’s the problem, you do not think,” he snapped angrily.

“Eh?” Lady Lyda asked, her stoic expression becoming ominous.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to sound harsh.”

“I also apologize for my lapse in judgment. Such an error will not repeat itself.”

“All is well. This is not an entirely an entirely bad development anyway.”

“What do you mean?” she asked as the two mages resumed walking.

“You shall come to know, in due time,” General Okhotnik replied, stroking his beard and adding a special emphasis to his last three words.

Ashviel cursed under his breath as his sword missed Master Vauxall for the millionth time. Kael also lunged in a diving sword move but Master Vauxall deftly dodged it and raised his sword for a counter. Kael would have sworn the sword was aimed at the right side of his neck, but somehow he felt a sting in his left eye, as the sword suddenly appeared to change trajectory.

“You!” he yelled, nursing his black eye, “you used a feint.”

“A very good one,” replied Master Vauxall with a smirk.

“What is a feint?” Ashviel asked the master swordsman.

“You create an illusion of a strike and when your opponent reacts with a block or dodge, you make the actual strike. There are two kinds: the real and the apparent. You might be able to learn the apparent at your current level, but the real; not yet.”

“Then we should get started,” declared Ashviel, dousing his weariness.

The two then practiced the feints, learning to recognize them and produce theirs. Of course, Kael was not a total novice as he grasped the idea better than his colleague did.

As their individual skill improved, so did the concordance of Ashviel and Kael in battle did. They had a repertoire that they maintained when facing Master Vauxall. Realizing that their usual efforts to hit the master had been fruitless, they decide to meliorate the repertoire with a stratagem.

Braced up for the challenge, they stood facing Master Vauxall. Suddenly, Ashviel let go of his boots and flung them violently at Master Vauxall. Without waiting for a single moment for the master to respond to the unexpected development, he swung into action with a flurry of attacks, creating a perfect shield for his comrade behind.

Kael stealthily flanked Master Vauxall and noticing an opening, he lurched forward swiftly. The master calmly caught the blade with his fingers.

“Smart and quick, but not swift enough.” He said as he delivered a blow to Kael’s shoulder.

Instead of moving back in pain, the slender boy proceeded with the core of the gambit. He jumped up and held Master Vauxall’s arms tightly. Shocked by the startling amateurish move, Master Vauxall just stood there and did not even bother to stop Ashviel’s steel blade as it made impact with his neck.

The two young men triumphantly darted away from the master after the blow struck. Their delight was however superseded with panic and dread. On impact with Master Vauxall’s neck, the sword had made a loud noise and Ashviel feared that he might have murdered their master. He was further filled with horror when he looked at the sword in his hand and found it shattered.

Master Vauxall clapped slowly, “Impressive; stupid, yet brilliant.”

Kael examined Master Vauxall’s neck from a distance and discovered that it did not bear even the minutest scar. Recalling that the master had promised not to employ any magic during the trainings, he asked slowly, “Was that a body honing technique?”

“Yes, body honing technique.” Master Vauxall replied with a smile.