Chương 1646: [1550] – Y07.050 – Arisa V

'Since he calls me ahm, he will not kill me,' Kal Kalim thought, he who was considered the third strongest within his Order, and had been considered the third strongest when even their Fariq was but a whelp. The half elf and he had fought the previous year, and though he had been defeated, it was only when the half elf had fought fresh, but after clashing with his Fariq, even if he had claimed victory so swiftly, he would not be… No. It was that kind of thinking that had caused him to lose the previous year.

In fact, last year, the half elf had stepped back, not confident in defeating the Fariq, and yet this time he stepped forward so easily. Battle Order D20 + 1 = 15 (14)"I cannot hold back," Kalim warned, rushing forward to meet the half elf, his amber blade glowing brightly, filled with the weight of expectations, duty, and his heart, which mourned for the sake of victory. The half elf, though needing to prove a point, would have to understand that Kalim, too, could not lose.

Yet, as his blade swung through the air, ready to pin the half elf down… Mana: 19 -> 18 Spell: Shield Defence: 28 -> 33"Do not worry, ahm," the half elf said, punting the Elder of Amber's blade aside with his shield casually.

"I will show mercy."

'Is this what you call mercy, nephew?' Kal Kalim thought, the axe in front of him blurring through the air. It was a beautiful axe. It was simple of design, the kind one might expect from any ordinary bearded axe, save for the rose engraved within the centre of the steel, the wooden handle, well carved, wrapped in simple leathers. Fighting Spirit: 2 -> 1 Attack: Heavy Axe (Advantage) D20 + 11 = 17 (6) D20 + 11 = 28 (17) Hit! Mana: 18 -> 17 Ability: Divine Smite 4D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 28 (14)(5) 28 damage!

Attack: Heavy Axe (Advantage) D20 + 11 = 22 (11) D20 + 11 = 29 (18) Critical Hit! Mana: 17 -> 12 Ability: Divine Smite 8D6 + 12D6 + 9 = 89 (25)(55) 89 damage! It was heavy, Kal Kalim thought, barely able to force away the heavy blow of such a casual swing, and even as the magic pulsed through his body, the kind of blow that even his Fariq would find difficult to wrought against his greatest foe, the older Aswadian understood he would be unable to surrender.

With his aching arms, his shuddering legs, his wounded heart, he pressed forward. Mana: 12 -> 11 Attack: Heavy Axe (Advantage) D20 + 11 = 18 (7) D20 + 11 = 21 (10) Hit! Mana: 12 -> 11 Ability: Divine Smite 4D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 29 (14)(6) 29 damage! Attack: Heavy Axe (Advantage) D20 + 11 = 18 (7) D20 + 11 = 27 (16) Hit! Mana: 11 -> 10 Ability: Divine Smite 4D6 + 2D6 + 9 = 35 (17)(9) 35 damage! Kal Kalim fell to a knee before the half elf, his entire body screaming at him.

He gave up trying to stand, all the while the half elf loomed over him, a shadow cast over him.

'If I had faced them both at once, I might have been able to defeat them…' The half elf's thought caused him to pause.

'No. I can't get cocky.' Chosen sighed, glancing aside to Tanagek, who also held the half elf within his eyes. The pair understood, for they, too, had fought Adam like this, and he had so easily defeated them. Yet, even they had fought the half elf as well as a Fariq and Fariq Thanwi, like the great Kal Idris and Kal Kalim. The Faro was certain. The last year, he had fought the Fariq Thanwi, the Vice Commander of the Order of the Amber Blades, with far more difficulty.

Then, when he came face to face with the Fariq, the Grand Commander of the Amber Blades, he hadn't been quite as confident, to the point he had even stepped back for the sake of a draw. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Yet, today…

"Dear, how was that?" the half elf asked, revealing his anxious face to his daughter, who stared up at him in surprise.

"It is acceptable, father," the girl replied, having managed to catch herself. However, as her father stepped closer, she reached out for the fool, and without even a first thought, the half elf's form engulfed the girl, who hid within her father's chest. As her tiny form shook and trembled, the half elf hid her away from the world under his cloak, and with another sway of his cloak, he hid his son within his chest too, feeling the pair tremble within his arms.

The half elf, too, remained hidden away from the world, as his grandmother brought his head down, brushing his cheek with her red hand, hiding away the Iyrmanly look from his wife.

"You!" Jarot snarled, glaring at Kal Fadi, who stood so dutifully beside his liege.

"How dare you look at my greatchildren so! Draw your blades at once!"

"Grandfather," called a voice, and as the old man looked towards the soothing voice, he caught his granddaughter's gaze.

"Babo is giving mummy such a terrible look," a fool said, causing a pair of shuffling from within his arms, and peeking from above the cloak, a pair of wet amber eyes, completely focused upon her greatfather.

"What? I was giving such a look to that brat, not to my own granddaughter!" the old man declared, his face flashing from Mad Dog to Wounded Dog.

"It is Kal Fadi," Mulrot warned.

"Is he a Kal after I slaughter him too?" Jarot replied, not in the Iyr's tongue, in the Aldish tongue, for let them all hear! For wasn't he the Mad Dog?

"Stop embarrassing us in front of the Aswadians," Gangak said in their tongue, causing the old man to clench his fist, and he turned red hot with rage.

"Draw your blade at once!" the old man declared in their tongue, standing, for this time the woman was not holding his grandson or his greatchildren within her arms. Did she think because she was a legend within Aswadasad, he, the Mad Dog, whose story rivalled her own, allowed her to speak such words to him? Then, she drew a blade. It was her finger, for it was she, the one who had first dared to attack the old man.

"Babo! Stop it!" Jarot held his greatdaughter's gaze, the little girl who was now red of skin and eyes, and yet her glare burned as brightly as it had when she had bit him so viciously as a tiny babe.

"Et tu, my Konarot?" The half elf blinked.

'At least he's using the term right.'

"Babo! Stop it now!" Konarot declared in the Iyr's tongue.

"If you do not, you must face the wall!" The old man blinked, and though he certainly towered over his greatdaughter, who sat so well upon her nano Shayfev's lap, it was her presence which overwhelmed him. He sat down beside Flame Brand and crossed his arms, the old man's neck taut, for although he could slaughter Kal Fadi, the Sabres of Dusk, did he have the courage to defeat his eldest greatdaughter?

"Aunt, allow the old geezer to hold onto Amalrot," the fool whispered.

"You would ask I surrender my daughter?" Sonarot whispered, a joke which caused even Adam to blink, but she handed the girl to her father. The old man, who would dare to threaten the Faro within her own estate, regardless of whether there were a dozen or so Paragons ready to assist him, could not dare to refuse the giant ball of blue that was his youngest granddaughter, accepting her onto his lap, tickling her cheek, though she reached out to her mother.

"You must eat, my Amal!" Jarot said, bringing food to her lips, causing the girl to instantly surrender, for though she could dare to bully the Mad Dog who would dare to threaten the Faro within her own estate, regardless of whether there were a dozen or so Paragons ready to assist him, she could not dare to refuse food in front of her. Yes. It was this Iyr.

'Just when I thought I had caught up,' Lucy thought, for though she could certainly go blow for blow against Kal Kalim, she probably couldn't defeat the Fariq, nor could she face them both back to back.

Elif, who had been just a normal Aswadian teen but a year ago, turned to look towards the Sword of the Lady, the woman who was now considered the closest to Lady Arya, who was one of the Major Divine of Aldland, of War, who was pretending as though she hadn't just seen two of their greatest warriors fall under the magical steel of such a fool. Then there was perhaps the most terrifying Iyrman of all. She sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

"What is wrong?" her elder brother asked.

"How can he bully me like this?" the most terrifying Iyrman of all asked.

"Yes?"

"Brother, he won too quickly," the most terrifying Iyrman of all whispered, letting out another soft sigh, the ache within her heart only relenting to the sound of the sweet magical steel sparking against one another.

"You are right."

"Of course," the most terrifying Iyrman said, reaching up to her forehead.

"Brother, what am I to do with you." Pam held her tiny sister in law within her eyes, for certainly the girl understood what this meant. Ah. Right. Lanarot had grown up hearing all the tales of her siblings, so this was just another in a long line of tales expected from them.

"Even so, you must praise him," Jurot said. Lanarot hopped off her eldest brother's lap, and then shuffled her way to her other eldest brother, tearing apart a piece of bread, offering it to his lips, as well as to her niece and nephew, who did not need to defeat the likes of two figures who could clash against Paragons for her to spoil them. Then. She appeared.