Dragon Heart. Land Of Magic. LitRPG Wuxia Saga. Book 6

The darkness gradually turned into a hazy twilight full of shadows, which, like prisoners trying to get out of their cells, rioted on the distant granite walls and ceiling, reaching for the sarcophagus but never quite managing to touch it. It was as if something was keeping them at bay. The raven watched him from the gloom — a black blur against the gray of the granite.

"Your disciple?" Hadjar asked, struggling to imagine the creature who had tried so hard to kill him training a disciple.

"His name was Erhard." The raven flapped its wings.

The blur began to transform. It stretched out and thickened until it took on the hazy outline of a human. The inky shadow approached the sarcophagus. Extending its hand, it brushed it over the coffin.

"That's so sweet." Hadjar looked around. He didn't understand if his surroundings were an illusion or not. Not knowing where he was made him nervous. "Can we go back now?"

The Enemy turned to him.

"Don't be afraid, descendant." He chuckled. "I propose a truce: I won't destroy your soul today, and you'll listen to a story of mine."

Hadjar crossed his arms over his c.h.e.s.t. According to Hera, the Black General would have no power over his mind and soul for the next seven years. What she hadn't warned him about, however, was that he'd be thrown into a strange whirlpool of darkness the moment he set foot in his soul.

"And why would I do that?"

"Why not?" The shadow waved its hand and a long crack appeared in the opposite wall. Through it, Hadjar saw a vast valley covered with green grass. "You may go if you so please, my descendant."

Hadjar had always sensed a certain hostility from the Enemy, but now he felt nothing. It was as if the Black General didn't care about him anymore.

"All right, tell me your story, Darkhan," Hadjar agreed after a moment's hesitation.

"It isn't my story, descendant." The shadow began to dissolve and it gradually filled the entire space around them. Hadjar felt a wave of suffocating fear overwhelm him, but it left as quickly as it had appeared. Perhaps they really had made a truce today.

Closing his eyes, he allowed the darkness to engulf him. When he could see again, he was standing on a wide, stone road that looked vaguely familiar. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that he was standing on a road in the middle of the Wastelands. However, unlike the one they'd ridden down, which was ruined and hidden beneath a layer of dry earth and red sand, this one was brand new and beautiful. Even the Imperial road, which spanned almost the entire Empire, looked like a dirt path in some forsaken village by comparison. Wide enough to let ten carts pass each other with ease, it was paved with red and white stone. Forty rows of twenty warriors each marched toward the setting sun and the golden sky.

"The fires of war," Hadjar guessed at once.

Even in these ancient times, when magical gunpowder hadn't been invented yet, people had still found other ways to set fire to fortresses and settlements from a safe distance. So, even back then, one could see columns of thick smoke obscuring the sky, rising from the blood-soaked battlefields. The sky itself seemed to be burning.

"Where are we?"

The Enemy, having assumed his raven form once again, perched on Hadjar's shoulder. They suddenly moved up a hill, where they had a better view of the battlefield. In the modern world, an army of about a hundred thousand would be considered pitifully small. But back then, such an army was huge and able to strike terror into the hearts of many kingdoms.

"This is the age of the Hundred Kingdoms," the bird croaked. "Or rather, its end — the War of the Hundred Kingdoms."

Hadjar tried to remember everything he knew about this era, and even asked his neural network for additional information. But even with their combined efforts, they couldn't find anything about it in his memory.

"Don't waste your time." The raven's chuckle was hollow, like the noise of a pipe being struck by a piece of iron. "This all happened so long ago that even those who rule the Seven Empires don't remember anything about it."

"The Seven Empires?"

"Did you think Lascan and Darnassus are the only Empires in your region? They aren't. There are seven of them. Your two Empires are just a pair of bickering neighbors whose quarrel goes back to the time of the Hundred Kingdoms."

Hadjar looked at the soldiers marching along the road. They were dressed in simple armor, the kind that only mortals wore. Even the most powerful of them weren't above the initial stage of the Heaven Soldier level. The most powerful of all, of course, was their General, easily standing out thanks to his Mortal level plate armor and Spirit level sword.

"Back in those days, the path of cultivation wasn't as widespread among humans as it is now," the raven continued. "But make no mistake, this army, the army of king Eranos, was one of the strongest in the Hundred Kingdoms."

This was what the strongest army at that time looked like? Hadjar wondered, baffled. Luckily for the cultivators of modern times, progress hadn't stood still. It was amazing to see just how far they'd come in comparison to their ancestors.

"And the Immortals?" Hadjar asked, suddenly remembering them.

"The Land of the Immortals will come to be long after this," the raven croaked. "I'm showing you the days when I myself walked amongst the mortals."

Hadjar turned around abruptly. Beside him, atop the hill, stood an old man wrapped in a black cloak. His white hair, peeking out from under his hood, was caked in dirt. He was leaning on a dry branch that served as his walking stick.

"I was old by then, so old that I didn't remember when or how I was born."

Hadjar turned to the raven.

"Didn't the gods imprison you on the Mountain of Skulls?"

"They did," the bird answered. "But they only locked away a large part of my soul. Many fragments got into the bodies of ordinary mortals and became my bloodline. There were also those bits that were scattered among the humans. Incapable of cultivation, they lived a simple life and then dissolved into the energies once they died. The one you see before you now was the last fragment that wasn't trapped in the prison of someone else's blood."

Hadjar stared at the trembling old man. It seemed like he'd be blown away by the next breeze that came along.

"My Lord!" one of the riders shouted as he rushed down from a high hill. "My Lord! We found them…"

Judging by his pale and mournful expression, they hadn't found anything good. Eranos spurred his snow-white horse and rode toward the quarry.

The raven suddenly grew bigger and lifted Hadjar into the air. Before they left, Hadjar saw the old man turn his head toward them. Their gazes met for a brief moment, but that was all it took for a shiver to run down Hadjar's spine. The deranged look in the man's eyes was frightening.