Sonarot let out a soft sigh, holding Amalrot against her bosom, the girl sucking her thumb, leaking saliva all over her. Yet the sigh was soft, gentle, warm, for it was a sigh that ca after a great fight, and the preclude towards another.
Jurot, too, was focused on the fight which had only just passed. It was the first ti he had seen it. The grandfather who existed in the myths of old, the grandfather who was his first mory, and the grandfather who was his second mory, both different grandfathers, and this grandfather, who would be a part of his children’s first mories.
‘I should have brought Damrot,’ Jurot thought, his eyes then trailing to the side, noting the way Nirot stared at her grandfather. She had been too young at the ti, barely a babe, and she only knew the grandfather who was one ard, and then spent most of her adventuring life knowing the grandfather who was one legged too.
It was this grandfather, who had retired at twenty five, the sa age as his eldest grandson, who had reached this height.
Yet, as he looked at his younger cousin, Jurot relaxed. It was she who had also gained quite the story when she stepped out of the Iyr but a few years ago. His eyes fell towards the moonless sky.
Nirot remained focused on her grandfather. ‘Grandfather is so cool…’
‘Granduncle is terrifying,’ Kitool thought. She hadn’t been able to see the mythical Jarot when he was the kind to slaughter hundreds of nobles, but certainly, the Jarot before her was that kind of man. The way he fought, it was exactly as they had described.
She recalled the warmth of her grandfather’s arms.
‘The most terrifying thing about your granduncle is that regardless of how much I beat him, he keeps walking towards ,’ Zaool admitted. It was he, who had beco an Expert, and had barely stepped beyond that realm even when he was middle aged, who kept the old man company. ‘Even when he does not swing his axe, do you know how scary that is?’
‘Scary,’ little Kitool had confird, though her eyes remained entirely focused on Zaool, who was such an old man, in his late forties at the ti, but wasn’t that close to a hundred?
Fakrot sat to one side, his arms crossed, staring at the empty space in which his uncle had fought the Full Moon. The Full Moon, the New Moon, and the First Hope were all considered among the strongest, for like the previous Grand Commander of the Thousand Hunts, each were Paragons. Adam had killed one, and had defeated two, leaving only the New Moon untouched. Technically he had drawn with the First Hope, but that was only for the sake of his wife, though they weren’t married at the ti.
He had spoken with Mirot before he had stepped out.
‘Adam’s abilities…’
Mirot raised a hand, in the way that denoted she was exhausted at the thought.
Fakrot’s eyes trailed to his nephew, who was preparing himself to face against the New Moon, the last of the big four. Once the Reavers were dealt with, there would be others who would step into the realm of Paragon, and the Orders would have empowered themselves through the sweat of effort, but the half elf, before even stepping onto that terrifying battlefield, would have defeated those who were known to have stepped into that realm.
It was not only the Iyrn in deep thought.
Lucy side eyed Mara, who side eyed her in return. The two had remained silent, and the Order had remained silent in return. However, the fight had engrained itself within their hearts too, for it was a beautiful fight, in the sense it was as beautiful as it was terrifying, and terrifying as it was expected.
‘They weren’t exaggerating in the slightest,’ Lucy thought.
‘No wonder he’s such a monster,’ Vasera thought, sipping away at the tea the Five Moons had offered, at one point distracted by the beauties, but now she was focused on her thoughts. ‘When he said his grandfather was the scariest, I thought he was joking…’
Yasha remained completely stone faced as she stared into the air in which the old man had so brutally dismantled the Full Moon before them. She thought about all the tis the old man behaved a fool for the children, though seeing him fight against the Full Moon, the woman blinked. She thought back to when the half elf had defeated the Full Moon himself.
‘Oh. Right. He’s his grandfather.’
Lani turned to look towards her elder brother, who also sat silent as a mouse. The two decided against speaking up, for even Sara remained speechless, having already known the old man was shockingly powerful, but to think his way of fighting was so scary, even compared to the typical Rage Dancer.
‘To think he would even know his opponent’s strengths,’ Sara thought, thinking back to the few tis the Iyrman had spoken during their bout. It was not just that the old man had dismantled the woman, as though it were he who should have been called the Butcher, but it was the fact that he was…
He wasn’t sarcastic, exactly, he was more…
Casual?
Yes.
It was because he was so casual.
The old man hadn’t behaved like the beast he was, instead keeping the beast within him at bay, instead speaking casually to the woman, and once she had been unable to defeat him with her greatest strength, just like that…
Maharan’s eyes remained entirely focused on the half elf. ‘Yes. They’re definitely related.’
The young Iyrn also bead brightly, from Laygak whose lips ford a wide smile, to Bavin, who had grown up hearing what a monster the Iyrman had been, even from his grandfather, the previous Elder Wrath.
‘In our generation, there is no one more terrifying,’ Bovin had said, and this was not even a few years ago, for this was when Bovin had stepped down, and even after losing to Ashmir, the old man spoke about the Mad Dog with such reverence. Bovin, who was himself a Paragon, and a Rage Dancer, and would have been able to defeat the Mad Dog, assuredly, for the Mad Dog’s strength was greater against those who were not Rage Dancers, and even so, those who had co to blows with the Mad Dog had always placed him among their top, and if not their top, their second, for third was too low.
It was this Mad Dog who would lose a hundred tis, but would co back a hundred and one.
Tanika, the sand giant, remained completely silent too. Her eyes then slipped away to Bael, who was deep in thought.
‘I underestimated him,’ Bael thought, and within his mind he began to move up those with the na Rot. He thought about Jurot, who was strong for his age, but a quarter of a century, and yet was already so strong. However, whereas many would stumble at his lightning, the fool of an Iyrman would be able to flex his way through, unlike most other warriors, even most other Rage Dancers, perhaps other than those who danced within the storm. ‘I see now why they have remained as one of the pillars of the Iyr since its inception…’
“Shayfev, once Adam defeats the New Moon, you should step forward and face a Moon too,” Malfev said.
“Is there a need?” Shayfev replied, her arms crossed, full of annoyance, this cousin of theirs who used to cry so much as a little girl.
“I will make sure the children are watching,”
Shayfev tensed up lightly, and with that, the woman bowed her head.
Dogek understood the heart of the Full Moon, for he had underestimated the Mad Dog not long ago, and yet the wound was heavier within the Full Moon’s heart, for she had not underestimated him and found herself beneath him.
‘It is good to see you have returned,’ Karmin thought, recalling their fights when they were young. Indeed, there were only a few who sparred with him multiple tis a week as a youth, and Karmin, who was considered among the strongest of the Iyr, was one of those few.
‘You took too long,’ Marmak thought.
As the children pampered their greatfather, the old man peered to the side. “Our grandson is about to fight, so stop flirting with .”
Mulrot’s lips ford a wide smile, reaching out to jab her husband, whose muscles instantly seized into place, his breath trapped within his lungs. “I will flirt with you as I like.”
Jirot turned to look towards her greatmother, and closed her eyes, ranking her greatmother above her greatfather, in the sa way she ranked her mother above her father.
Uwajin suddenly sat upright, as the two finally prepared to face one another, with the half elf standing opposite.
It was different this ti.
As the thoughts slipped away, the air grew heavier.
They all felt it.
The half elf had asked for a spar respectfully.
Adam, who had been such a fool this entire ti, hadn’t even gone to his children to ask them for support. Instead, the half elf had ward up, flexing his muscles, even daring to do so within this Order, and once he was done, he stood opposite the New Moon, adorned within her full plate, wielding her beautiful Moonsabre.
“I would like to thank you for this honour,” Adam said, his tone respectful.
“Is it an honour?”
“Do you believe I am underestimating you?” Adam asked.
“You certainly are.”
“You will feel it, at the en-,” Adam began, but stopped, realising how it could be misconstrued. “I am not. When we fight, I will aim to defeat you with my greatest abilities. Please do not underestimate in return.”
“Do you fight as the Adam who stepped in the last year, or the Adam who has stepped in this year?”
“I fight you as soone adorned in full plate, wielding a magical axe, who cannot lose,” Adam replied simply.
The New Moon could hear the seriousness in his voice, and she bowed her head gently towards the half elf, who was not fighting him as a warrior, but as a father whose heart remained burdened by grief. So she would fight him as a father whose heart remained burdened by grief, and not a half elf male whose ancestors once brutally savaged her own ancestors.
PATREON FOR 30 CHAPTERS!
No way Adam loses.
Right?
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