Savage Awakening 471. Summit of the Ages (IV)

Shen struck like a storm.

Lightning shivered the arena; there was a sound like whips cracking. His fists made writhing balls of the stuff.

Then he blurred into the wind, and threw.

They shot out like cannonballs—thudded straight into Zane. Then the Storm Prince was gone as if he’d never been there.

Another ball of lightning screamed from behind and torched his robes black.

Zane staggered.

***

“Hells, he’s fast!” said Kira.

“I didn’t even see him move…” whispered Jun.

Ryu just winced.

Kira shot to her feet—“Come on, Jack!”

But they could only watch as their guy staggered and winced.

So far, he was being made a punching bag. Electro-ball after electro-ball slammed into him, and there was nothing he could do but take it.

It was clear he was far out of his league.

***

“Oof!” said the Cloud Emperor. “Well! That’s that, I suppose—least it’s over fast, eh?”

He chuckled.

Patriarch Black Dragon watched silently, knuckles white on his glass.

“Hells—it’s just brutal blow after brutal blow!” cried the announcer. “Will Jack even get a chance to respond?!”

Zane was still waiting for a chance to land a good smack. But the fellow kept skirting around, just out of range.

He was pretty proud of himself for this wincing, staggering act. He’d spent some time practicing this week—it was really paying off. The announcer seemed pretty convinced, at least.

***

Shen Long was sure the brute would go down after the third blow.

Then he struck him with a fourth, putting his whole back, the full heft of his Bloodline into it.

Jack staggered—but didn’t go down.

Then came the sixth, the seventh, the eighth, and he didn’t seem much worse off…

“The hells is this?” whispered Shen.

These were full-powered thunderblasts, backed by the might of the Thunder Roc. Eight shots had taken down Minor God True Dragons!

But this Jack still stood upright. He just kept eating them…

Shen hurled another, grunting with the effort—and this time it snapped Jack’s head all the way back.

But when the light cleared, there he stood, smoking slightly, looking a bit baffled but… fine.

Shen gritted his teeth and glared down at his hands.

It didn’t make any sense… except itdid.

The thing that had protected him ever since he’d been abandoned at the age of four on the frigid cliffs of the Black Dragon Sect was hatred. The thing that had borne him through all those beatings at the hands of those spoiled brats of the Sect and the Elders who’d turned a blind eye was hatred.

He never denied that. It was his greatest weapon.

Every time he fought Sect scum, he felt that same thing. And it gave him the strength to break them.

But there was still little Shen. That weak, shivering boy within—a boy he thought he’d killed. A boy who’d clawed his way to the surface that first night of exile, kneeling in dried monster blood, shivering in that Badlands cave, hoping the beasts with the sickle claws wouldn’t find him. The cruel realization that after all that Sect lip service to justice and fairness, the only one he could rely on—the only one he’d ever relied on—was himself. Blaming himself anyway—the guilt of it.

That boy had died out there in the Badlands that first night. Starved and bled to death.

The Storm Prince took his place.

But here he was—standing before this… man. Not a Sect mongrel. Just a man.

And some part of him still hesitated. Some mental block.

Shen gritted his teeth.

That was weakness.

He hated it most of all.

“Shen’s just toying with his food now!” cried the announcer. “End it already—good heavens! The only reason Jack’s still on his feet is Shen keeps hitting him—he’s just drawing it out—”

“ENOUGH!” roared Shen.

This time, he struck to kill.

***

Zane, meanwhile, had pretty much worked out his plan.

He had more time than he’d thought. The neat thing about electricity was that it paralyzed you. So he pretty much just stood there and staggered every once in a while, and it worked.

“I know it’s hard to tell,” said the announcer. “Since shocks don’t leave a trace—but I assure you—Jack’s barely there right now! Under the surface, he’s sustained massive damage—his heart must be on the verge of failing, to say nothing of the rest of him! He might not even be fully conscious right now…”

Zane was quite pleased with his acting ability. He was better at this thing than he’d thought.

Back to the plan.

The tricky thing was this guy was so fast that normal methods wouldn’t work. By the time he started his swing, Shen was already gone. Shen never got close, and he never held still—he just kept hitting Zane from all angles, always from a safe distance.

Even birds usually came in for a slash before backing out. This guy never got close.

He’d need another answer.

He was just finalizing his plan when he realized Shen had stopped attacking.

Instead, the guy was looking at his trembling palms, red-faced—“What’s wrong with you?” he whispered, looking anguished. “Get it together!”

At this point, Zane realized everyone was looking at him.

***
“Ow,” said Zane, wincing. He went to a knee.

Conveniently, a puff of smoke drifted off him at that moment. Gasps rang out.

“It’s over!” howled the announcer. “All that’s left to do is finish him off… I can’t even bear to watch!”

Honestly, Zane wasn't sure how well this would go. He hadn’t tried it on a real fighter yet, and this guy seemed bird-fast. Still—he figured he had the element of surprise.

“You held on well,” rasped Shen, looking surprisingly sweaty.

For a few seconds, he didn’t say anything. By the look on his face, Zane got the sense he was trying to secretly catch his breath while seeming not out of breath.

He waited patiently for the guy to figure himself out.

“A good effort,” said Shen at last. “But…”

Then his expression darkened, and Zane felt the rage erupt beneath.

“But not good enough!” snarled Shen. And his fists went crackling white.

Lightning thickened endlessly, the streaks growing denser, merging into one massive ball—Shen howled as he powered up; his veins were shining with the stuff. His eyes blazed with it.

The skies darkened, clouds thickening, swirling angrily…

This was all a bit alarming.

This guy really was trying to do a number on him. With the size of that thing, even some Minor Gods would be lucky to survive. This fellow really was something else—probably worthy of a spot on the Rising Dragon ranking.

“Hells!” cried the announcer. “Shen’s going to kill him!”

Zane figured it was a good time to step in before things got too far. Plus, Shen had his arms over his head—hoisting that giant lightning ball, screaming with effort—it seemed like a great deal of concentration. He wouldn’t be moving anytime soon.

Satisfied, Zane threw his rock.

Shen had just a moment to frown at the rock coming at his face.

Then—CLANG!

The Storm Prince keeled over.

The skies cleared, revealing a vast expanse of blue. It was a sunny morning, it turned out. The lightning fizzed away.

Then it was just a smoking Shen, Zane, and his trusty rock.

Zane went to retrieve his rock.

The announcer had gone silent for the first time that fight.

“That was looking pretty scary for me,” Zane informed the fellow. He felt this was a good time to slip in some comments—reinforce his low profile. He often found the best time to guide the narrative was when the other guy was stunned. They weren’t really in a state of mind to question things.

“I was done for sure there,” he added. “I got quite lucky.”

“What—what was that?!” spluttered the announcer.

“My hidden technique,” Zane informed him. “Rock throw.”

“…” The announcer seemed about as baffled as before. But at this point, he seemed to remember his job. “J-Jack!” he cried. “Jack—Jack just beat the Storm Prince with a single blow, no less—that punches his ticket to the Round of 16!”

***

Lower boxes

A minute later, as they picked a dazed-looking Shen Long off the ground, Young Master Song’s mouth was still wide open.

Jun was on his feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd. He hugged a surprised-looking Kira.

“I didn’t know he could do that!” cried Jun.

“I didn’t either…” said Ryu.

“Maybe he could do it all along…it’s just nothing brought it out of him.” Jun shook his head in wonder. “I wonder what else he’s keeping hidden…”

“Wait,” said Kira, who had only just recovered. She frowned at Jun. “You didn’t know you could throw rocks?”

Ryu could see her attraction going back down in real-time.

***

In one of the closest boxes to the arena—a box with a string for a sigil—there was only silence.

“…That,” said Elder Jadeheart, “was certainly unexpected.”

“Yes,” agreed the Zither Princess. She looked up. “Mistress—all my prep for the next round was for Shen…”

There was silence in the booth even as the stands rocked above.

“Clearly we underestimated him,” said Jadeheart. “This Jack is far more than he seems.”

“Mistress?” Junior apprentice-sister Lyn looked surprised. “…Couldn’t it just be a fluke?”

“No, you dolt!” It was senior apprentice-sister Eve. She was a dark-haired beauty with sharp features and a sharper tongue. “That’s what the common folk think. Is that what you are? Common?”

“I—”

“No fluke could take down Shen,” said Eve. “It’s all a performance! Just look at him pretending to get lost!”

They watched Jack go to the wrong entrance, realizing it, and turning back around.

“If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’s all real!” she said haughtily. “It’s an act. He’s dangerous.”

She looked to the mistress for approval. She looked relieved when Jadeheart nodded.

“It would be foolish to underestimate him,” said Jadeheart. “But Yue…”

She tapped the Zither Princess on the shoulder.

“This changes nothing. Don’t let him shake you. His strength is in duels. Tests of might. But yours tests another dimension entirely.”

She tapped the Zither. “There is not a single Ascendant man who can take this. Much less a wild man like him.”

The Zither Princess nodded.

“You will put him down,” instructed Jadeheart. “Quickly and cleanly.”

“Yes, Elder.”

***

“He… actually won,” the Cloud Emperor said. He sounded far away.

“Yes,” said Patriarch Black Dragon, chuckling. “What a finish! There must be a brutal soul aspect to that throw. That animal’s got a chin on him. But not enough, clearly.”

The Cloud Emperor nodded absently.

“You look upset.”

“Oh, no—nothing of the sort!” He paused. “I did have 20 max stones riding on the victory...”

“Hmm.”

The Patriarch took another sip. All of a sudden, he was enjoying himself. “Souls are your specialty, are they not?” He raised a brow. “One blow… how did Jack manage it? I’m quite curious.”

“Well,” said the Cloud Emperor. He hesitated. “…It’s rather complicated. I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

“That’s alright,” said the Patriarch. “Taking down a top-class Ascendant so easily… you must be some prodigy to do that. Say, Yun—you were a prodigy in your time too, were you not?”

“Well—certainly,” scoffed the Cloud Emperor. “But it would be unfair to compare my work to that of such a junior.”

“Though even you’d have been hard-pressed to manage that.”

“Now, now!” said the Cloud Emperor. “It’s nothing profound, what Jack did. Perhaps you’d think so if you were ignorant of the soul arts! But like he said—it was mostly luck.”

“Hmm,” said Patriarch Black Dragon. “Perhaps.”

He wandered off for more drink.

The Cloud Emperor scowled for no reason he could identify. He took a drink from his cup, scowled some more, and called over a serving boy—“Get me another bottle! This one’s gone bad, clearly—who let it through, anyway?”

***

That day, Shen Long left Cloud Atlas City.

If he lost to some random miner, he was not the elite he thought he was. His dreams of tearing down the sects were crushed, along with his dignity.

He was never heard from again.

A humble monk popped up a month later in a fishing village on the far southern coast and began a simple life of fishing and meditating, taking odd jobs with the village folk now and again.

He seemed a great deal happier.