Savage Awakening 467. Jack (V)

Zane’s second fight went down as easily as the first. The third went down pretty quickly too.

There were a few thousand folks fighting on his floor. The number dwindled quickly—fighters were getting eliminated fast.

The standards seemed to be ratcheting up quickly. He only met peak Ascendants from then on.

So far, though, none could take the bonk.

***

His fourth-round opponent was a very thin man with arms wrapped in thick gauze. He had a very sharp, gaunt face and curls of oily hair.

Zane frowned at the cage.

The guy was a beastmaster. That didn’t bother him so much. It was the creatures in the cage that bothered him.

“Beautiful, are they not?” whispered the man. He grinned, showing sharp yellow teeth.

Zane just found it disappointing.

Inside the cage were a bunch of big featherless vultures.

“You’re a man,” said Zane, shaking his head. “But you would lower yourself to using birds.”

Zane didn't respect birds to begin with. But they at least had no choice but to be birds.

For a man to willingly go that route…

This was the lowest of the low in his mind.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Thirty seconds—and five squawks and one ‘argh!’—later, the fight was over.

Birdman keeled over. A smattering of thumps later, the last of the birds hit the ground.

Zane walked off, feeling perturbed.

This time the ref stopped him at the edge of the mat.

“Pardon,” said the ref. “…What are you holding?”

He realized it was the same guy from earlier. He showed off his rock.

“This is a rock,” Zane explained.

“…I thought that was what it looked like…”

The ref still looked puzzled.

“It’s my registered weapon,” Zane informed him. “Here.”

He took the ref’s clipboard and flipped a page.

There it was. The other guy’s was the ‘Driftwings Cage of Greed.’

His was: “Rock.”

“…So it is.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Oh—no, nothing like that,” said the ref. “Just, uh… curious. Carry on.”

***

“Ryu!” Jun waved, grinning. “I didn't realize you were here!”

“Jun.”

“You’re through to the fifth too?”

Ryu nodded as they headed down the steps.

“How’s it been?” said Ryu mildly.

“Oh, y’know… I was feeling pretty good—fought really hard, getting past this water mage in the fourth. Then I saw her—my ex, I mean.” Jun deflated a little. “She was with Young Master Tiger Claw…”

Ryu was quiet. 

“It’s alright… I guess I should’ve known,” said Jun. He grinned weakly. “Things are going better on your end, I hope?”

Ryu smiled just a little. “I’m satisfied so far.”

“Hard to believe it’s just prelims, right?” said Jun. He visibly tried to muster up some good cheer. “It feels like every match is a championship bout back home.”

They rounded a corner and caught a view below.

“Is that Jack?” said Jun.

It was. Out near the center of the sea of mats. The big guy was fighting a fresh-faced ghost warlock. The warlock stabbed out a staff—a stream of spirits surged at him. He side-stepped them with surprising nimbleness. Then he gave the guy a casual whack.

The warlock fell over.

“That… looked almost too easy,” said Jun, blinking.

The warlock seemed surprised when he woke up. He shuffled back to his elder, who gave him a dressing-down—“Why’d you stand there and let him hit you, fool?!”

“I don’t know!” the guy was almost in tears.

“He’s really one-of-a-kind, isn’t he?” said Jun. “I asked him how it works once—he told me it was mostly the rock…”

They watched as Jack ambled off.

“He does just seem to be hitting people,” said Ryu.

“Right—it doesn’t look too hard. But he keeps knocking them out,” said Jun. “Whatever it is, it must be really profound. My master once told me the true experts make the difficult look easy, the complex look simple…”

They watched as Jack headed for the exits, took a wrong turn, and got lost. Now he was studying a map of the tournament grounds. 

“Hey—what do you say we catch up with the guy? Get some lunch?”

***

Zane had noodles with a few of the old crew.

Then it was back to fighting.

Next round, he was up against a sect fellow—all silk robes. Quite handsome, wielding an equally handsome spear. He looked like the hero of some martial arts drama.

***

Cai Yunfei’s jaw worked.

This whole thing was a waste of time.

He should have been put straight through to the round of 64, just like all the other top Chosen.

Instead—because of one small slip-up—he’d been banished here. Forced to work his way into the bracket, like any common brawler.

“You humiliated your clan today, Yunfei,” said the Patriarch. “It is only fair you bear the same fate.”

But there was nothing he could say. He’d lost. The fight was razor-close—against the other top talent of Yulan, the Zither Princess, no less…

But a loss was a loss.

And he, Cai Yunfei, would take it like a man. Bear his punishment with dignity.

…Still. It didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Are you ready?” said the ref.

He nodded curtly.

“Ready?”

“Sure,” said the man standing across from him.

“Begin!”

And Cai struck—a blow made to teach this oaf—teach the world—the difference between them.

Just a casual stab of his spear. And a shaft of sunlight lanced out.

A flame so fierce it made the wards flare in warning—he heard gasps ring out behind him.

It was plain none of them had ever felt flames like this.

Certainly not his opponent. The last thing he saw was the fool’s surprised blink.

Then he turned, striding for the exit, head held high. He didn’t wait to see the aftermath of his explosion.

“…Where are you going?”

He stilled.

The man was still standing there. Looking… fine.

Cai frowned.

He took a closer look at the man. Everything about him seemed simple.

Had he missed?

No—he was sure he’d struck exactly where he’d meant to.

Which meant this man… was more than he seemed.

He was hiding something. And pride had cost Cai a win before. Had put him in this very position.

He would not make that mistake again.

“What is your name?” said Cai archly. “You may speak.”

This man had earned that honor.

“Jack,” said the man. “I practice the Way of Rock.”

He waved his rock for emphasis.

Cai didn’t know what this oaf was playing at. But it didn't matter.

“You,” said Cai. “Are the first to warrant a serious blow.”

He settled into a crouch.

“My name,” he breathed. “Is Cai Yunfei! Remember it well. So that you will know you fell to no ordinary man… There is no shame in this loss.”

The man still seemed a little baffled. “Sure.”

“Ha!”

His spear arched like a serpent.

For a moment, it was incandescent, like the first rays of dawn after an endless night.

In the same moment, the rock came up to meet him.

Slow. Sloppy. To think such a thing would ever hit him, Cai Yunfei! He, who could dodge in the same time it took a butterfly’s wing to beat—

His last thought before the rock connected was—…Wait. Why can’t I—

CLANG!

***

“Some man just beat Young Master Cai!”

“I think his name was Jake?”

“They said he took just one blow, too…”

The Zither Princess plucked a discordant note. “What was that?” 

She knew Cai Yunfei. He was… a little full of himself, she felt. But he should’ve been a top seed—a shoe-in for the Top 64. The prelims were just meant to teach him a lesson.

Some unknown man had beaten him in just one move?

“Is something the matter?” It was Elder Jadehart, a stern, silver-haired lady, as elegant as she was ruthless. “I do hope you aren’t distracted, Yue.”

“It’s nothing, Mistress,” said the Zither Princess softly. “Just… someone interesting might’ve shown up.” 

***

A few more rumors stirred in the coming rounds about the man who went by Jack. Nothing explosive.

It helped that no crowds were let in—it was only qualifications.

Still—as the rounds went by, it was impossible for the news not to gain traction. It was just too odd.

There were murmurs of some big barbarian going around hitting the realm’s finest talents with a rock—and it didn’t matter how strong their defense or how fleet of foot. They just fell over.

Few had seen it up close. Few gave the news much credit.

Only those in the same bracket paid closer attention.

But one man, in particular, followed it all closely.

And the more he saw, the madder he got.

***

10th Round

Black Belt Ren had been waiting for this chance.

He stepped on the mats. Stared his enemy dead in the eye.

Gritted his teeth.

“Do you know who I am?” he breathed.

The guy blinked. “Have we met?”

“My name,” said Ren. “Is Ren Huafu. They call me Black Belt Ren.”

Still no recognition. He plowed on.

“I started training in the Plum Blossom Sword at the age of six, the Moonrise Kingdom’s most legendary sword art. In the next ten years, I surpassed the Saint himself! Then I spent five decades in isolation. Practicing until my fists bled. Until I could balance my full body weight on a single grain of sand, and my blows grew precise enough to slice a strand of hair in half, and then again! I trained every waking hour. Sacrificed untold blood and sweat—made my body a temple, untested by wine and women!”

“That really isn’t necessary,” said the guy, looking baffled. “Sometimes women make you stronger, actually.”

“I’m not done,” snarled Ren. “Why do you imagine I tell you all this? It is to show you how much this—”

He slapped his black belt. “Means to me!”

“Good for you,” said the guy amiably.

“So when I see some brawler come to the highest stage in martial arts. Making a mockery of true skill—fixing fights for the sake of mere glory—” 

He was trembling now. The man had the temerity to look baffled.

“—There is no higher disrespect!”

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” The guy waved his rock. “This is a real martial art. It is now, at least.”

“You think I didn’t see your fights!?” Spittle was flying everywhere. “You’re—you’re just hitting them! Slowly! And not very hard—and they’re just… falling over! I’ve never seen more blatant match-fixing!”

He took three deep breaths. By the end of it, he was still very red. “You are a fraud. And a cheat. But words are useless. Only one thing matters now.”

He drew his sword. “I will expose you—for all the world to see!”