Chương 1692: [1589] – Y07.089 – A Man of Heart IV

"I am Kal Ghazi, who will soon become the Scarlet Sword," Ghazi stated firmly, gripping his blade tightly, pointing it at the red skinned Iyrman.

"I am Laygak, son of Kaygak, who will soon retire to the Iyr," Laygak began, and after a moment's pause, "... and I will eventually take the role of a Master."

"Is it so simple?"

"It is simple, though is it so easy?" Ghazi's lips twitched into a playful smile, and as the pair stood opposite one another, their audience watched with bated breath. It was at the tips of their blades, a will known to them, for they were warriors too. The ringing of steel filled the air. Magical steel.

The pair were not those who had been born at the bottom, to climb their way to the top, it was they who had been born within their homes, that of the Iyr, that of the Scarlet Sun, in which the pair were raised under the watchful eye of those who knew how to wield steel, and those who were so familiar wielding magical steel.

'How clear,' Laygak thought as the ringing filled the air, echoing out towards the walls.

'How heavy,' Ghazi thought, and though physically the pair would be considered equals, it was he who stepped back, defending himself from such a terrible force. Laygak stepped forward. The ringing of steel echoed, a grunt following a moment later. The swordplay was not easy. It was simple. It was efficient. It was deadly.

It was a swordplay developed over a millennia, taught to those whose blades had yet to pierce the sky in over a thousand years, and though it had recently caused the stewards of the sun to bleed, it had yet to pierce the sky, to paint the scarlet sun before even the Scarlet Sun. It was at the tip of this sword, a resolute will. It was at the tip of this sword, a broken dream. It was at the tip of this sword, a prone man.

"It was a good fight," Laygak said, from the handle of that sword. Ghazi stared up towards Laygak, who had stepped forward, swung his sword, and had so simply, so easily, forced him onto his back, he who would become the future Scarlet Sword.

'What?'

"Oh no!" cried a tiny voice.

"I did not bet my gold!"

"You are too young to bet!" another tiny voice cried.

"Papa, how you can say this?" Jirot asked.

"I am older than you."

"I did not bet."

"Ock! My papa is so wise, so wise," the girl said, clutching her younger brother tight, planting a firm kiss against his cheek, for he was too cute, too wise, too adorable. Ah. There was no such thing. Ghazi stood, his heart still thundering within his chest, his ear drums playing a throbbing tune of defeat, his entire body aching, his bones threatening to shatter.

'How could this be?'

'The world is greater than you think,' Rushad thought, having already beaten the thought into his apprentice a thousand and one times, and yet he refused to learn, he refused to listen, and refused to consider the endless horizon that was the sky.

'You are a cat within a cabin.' Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

"I will return to face your blade once more, for once I am of your age, I will certainly defeat you," Ghazi said.

"Huh?" called a voice.

"Aren't we the same age?"

"What are you saying, papa?" Jirot brushed the halved elf's hair, causing him to blink, but he refused to allow her to trip him up at this time.

"I am twenty five," Ghazi said.

"Isn't Laygak... five years younger?"

"Four," Jurot said, for the first time, defeating the halved elf in such a realm.

"You are... twenty one?" Ghazi asked, staring at the red skinned Iyrman, who smiled innocently in return.

"Yes." Ghazi held the Iyrman's gaze for a long moment, as though he were a deer in carriage light.

"You are an Expert?"

"I am a step above an Expert, but I cannot claim a greater title," Laygak confirmed.

"Papo Laygak has been an Expert for a few years now," Adam said, his head still half buried within his daughter's arms, the halved elf doing his best to ignore it, but the girl's affection threatened to drown him.

"Yes!" Jirot declared.

"My papos and kakos, they are all Experts, not kako Taygak, she is too young, but papo Laygak, and papos and kakos, they are all Experts for so long now!"

"Amazing..." Rushad's eyes, too, were wide, for it was one thing for the elderly Iyrmen to possess such great might, but to think even their cubs had already far surpassed almost all of their own great warriors. The only figure of their generation who possessed such great talent was the current King's Sword's daughter, perhaps even one of her relatives, but to think this entire group had reached such a height, a height that would place them among legends of old.

"What is your martial epithet?"

"I have yet to claim one." Rushad remained silent in thought.

"It is because I am the weakest of my peers."

"How many of us can boast a martial epithet?" Faool asked.

"I have spoken no falsehoods," Laygak stated simply.

"Then, if I may..." Rushad began, and when Laygak bowed his head, Rushad fell into thought once more, peeking to the side, towards Ghazi, whose entire world had crashed down, and the young man was no longer listening, instead looking into the past, into what he had been taught for an entire generation, wondering if perhaps it had all been a dream.

"What of the Blood Seeking Sword?" This time it was Laygak's turn to remain so silent for a long while.

"it is a name too good for me."

"I would like to hear your tale if you are willing?"

"It would be my honour."

"By any chance..."

"Yes?"

"Are you related to the one known as Flame Brand?"

"She is my grandaunt."

"Nano, you are so famous!" Jirot gasped, her tiny mouth forming a circle, without the understanding she was now bullying her greatfather, the old man's eyes narrowing, clenching his fists, though he kept his fury at bay. For now.

"It is because I caused so much trouble," Gangak replied.

"I know! I know! Nano, you caused so much trouble!" Jirot accused.

"Kaka! How can you say this? Our nano never causes trouble! Nano treats us so well!" Adam declared, his cheeks flushed a gentle crimson.

"Ah!" Jirot replied, blinking.

"Of coas."

"Of course."

"Of coas," the children replied all at once.

"Excuse me, you are the one known as Flame Brand?" the Aswadian Fariq Thanwi asked.

"I am." Rushad clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

"I apologise for not recognising you, Kal."

"How could I blame you? You must have been suckling from your mother's teet at the time I was active."

"I certainly was," Rushad replied, for Gangak had already been forced away by the time he had come to be aware of the world. It was this woman, so unassuming, who had... It had been long ago, when Hadi Tanagek once roamed the land. The sand basked the figure in golden light as she followed the road. A hardy goat carried much of her gear, her water, and kept her company upon her journey.

It was this road who had brought her face to face against the likes of Taher, Sword of the Second Dawn, and though she had taken quite a terrible wound, it was nothing compared to what she had inflicted upon him. As she approached the small outpost, the sand shifting lightly under the gentle wind, she noted the figure. She stood tall and firm, adorned in full plate, her cape dauntless against the whipping wind, the blade at her side was the sword of that particular Order.

"It is a good thing I managed to find you before Kal Taher," the woman said. The silent woman began to tie her goat to a post.

"I am Kal Masal, Scarlet Sword of the Scarlet Sun," the woman stated. She reached up towards her helmet, but paused.

"..." The silent woman had already drawn her sword. It was a blade made of red, like that of the Blood Blade or the Crimson Blade. This blade was new, the Sanguine Sword of Saifa, a woman whose name would go down in history because Gangak had asked her name before killing her. It was this blade which would write the woman's name into the history books, and finally, after all these centuries, break the curse of the Gaks, even if it meant slaying the current Scarlet Sword of the Scarlet Sun.

"Do you not wish to rest before we begin?" Gangak swung her blade once, kicking the up the sand near the tip of her blade.

"There is no need."

"I must warn you, that even if you must make such an excuse, I must insist you leave this land with your silver, your tales, your life."

"If you have such an ability, I shall do as you ask," Gangak assured.

"It is said when you draw your blade, blood is spilled," Kal Masal said, gripping her blade tight in one hand, pointed slightly to her right.

"Yes."

"When I draw my blade, the sun sets," Kal Masal said.

"It is an honour."

"The honour is mine."

"I will allow you the first strike."

"Thank you," Gangak replied, recalling these, too, were the words of the man she left for dead.