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“’Tis a sin tah suffer such a numbskull as ye live,” Captain Fang said, “but it appears we be a perfectly even match. Ye know as well as I do ’tis futile tah resort tah our mother element.” The pirate could barely stand in his exhaustion and was leaning on his sabre. Sasha was also down to his last reserves of energy. He was poised low on the ground, ever ready to strike with his shinobuken held horizontally in front of him, his left hand behind. “Were we in a trainin’ dojo where ye’ve been raised,” the captain said, “no one would claim victory… BUT HITHER IS NOT A DOJO!” Captain Fang thrust his amputated right arm and released the harpoon on the end of it. As a matter of fact, Sasha had earlier grabbed a handful of salt when he tumbled forward across a drying pan. Now he swung his left hand from behind him and flung the salt to the captain’s eyes like a sumo wrestler purifying the ring. Sasha felt a certain amount of pleasure when he heard the captain utter a pained squeal. In a s
Across the ages, Dragon and Man have witnessed an intricate coexistence. In the times of antiquity, Man lived in perpetual terror under the reign of the Great Serpents and their vile human cohorts, the Salamanders. The dragons were regarded as divine beings and the Salamanders made scores of human offerings to fill the beasts’ vast appetite for flesh. No man dared raise a blade against the fated rule of Dragon and Salamander, no matter how dark and miserable the days turned. But then, a lone ray of hope pierced through. A nameless man succeeded in taking a dragon with him to the afterlife; something that had previously been deemed an impossible task. The man was the first slayer and would only be remembered by his generic name Dragon Slayer (Toryu). His feat quickly entered the realm of legend. His story was sung and passed down in secret gatherings, lauded in soft voices around a dimmed fire. But deep down the hearts of men, it kindled a far grander flame.The first Slayer ushered
Sunlight filtered in through the shoji paper of the windows. It was a beautiful day outside. Aki could hear birds singing, children laughing. She imagined kites gliding on the breeze. And here she was indoors practicing calligraphy. Seventeen-year-old Aki sighed in boredom. She didn’t even realize it until the sigh had escaped her nostrils. By then it was too late and the calligraphy sensei, an old man who looked like the mythical tortoise Genbu, which had been around since the creation of the world, glared at her from above the thick frame of his rivet spectacles.The glasses were basically magnifying lenses riveted together (hence the name) and were better-suited for scrutinizing the faint underwriting on the pages of dusty tomes in the Imperial Library. Supposedly they made the wearer over-dependent and as helpless as a mole without them, but the eyes of the sensei still looked like those of a hawk and felt like they could probe right into Aki’s sinful soul and then banish her to
Aki decided the best course of action. She decided to surprise the intruder by giving them a taste of their own medicine and communicating with them on the psychic plane. This was Ishin-denshin no Jutsu. The Mind Transmission Technique. Maybe she could distract them until an opening to somersault to the weapons presented itself.{Who are you?}The red Slayer gasped. They whipped out a throwing star from the inner pocket of their jacket. When the throwing star fanned out like a hand of cards, it was revealed that the figure actually held six of the wicked shurikens instead of just one. More than enough to seriously injure an unarmed princess in such close quarters. But then the red Slayer regained their composure and tried, rather belatedly, to demonstrate either innocence or decorum. With a slight hesitation, they slipped their throwing stars back inside their jacket.{My name is Temujin, of the Clan of Vulcanus,} he spoke in a masculine voice that he might’ve deepened on purpose.H
That night, Aki tossed and turned on layers of featherbeds. Temujin had been locked up in the dungeons as per the Emperor’s orders but no extra precaution had been taken to ensure the safety of the Egg of the Dragon God. In short, they didn’t heed the red Slayer’s warning.Aki hated to admit it but the Clan of Stork could be supremely proud about their appointment as guardians of the Egg. Although it was true that the section of the Treasure Vault leading to the most coveted power source in the world was riddled with booby traps and various obstacles, and not even Aki had heard tell of what those were precisely, there was still a human variable in the defense system: the chief architect who had devised the whole thing.Unless the Storks were a barbaric people who killed helpers just as soon as they had rendered their service, the chief architect was the weak link. And criminal elements always seemed to know exactly where to apply pressure to get what they wanted.Aki was aware that he
Temujin’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper.“What do you mean?” Aki asked. “They had to extinguish all sources of light within a hundred yards of me or else I’ll be able to manipulate them.”It dawned on Aki that that was indeed the reason the usual sputtering torches had all disappeared, swathing most of the prison in darkness.“I see,” she said. “My apologies.” “Why? Why do you apologize? It’s not your doing, is it?”“It’s common courtesy,” she reasoned matter-of-factly, “to express sympathy for another person’s discomfort.” “Well, I think you apologize too much.”She ignored that, fearing another outburst from him.“Can’t you generate fire from within you?” she asked. “With your ki?”“Fire can never be created by man. It can only be borrowed. We, of the Vulcanus Clan, are direct descendants of the god Homusubi, who gave the gift of fire to all mankind.”“I know that story. My mom used to tell it to me when I was a child.”“Well, I’m sure your mom forgot to mention how I
Aki cried her eyes out in her room. It was almost daylight but she hadn’t slept a wink. She couldn’t understand all the mixed emotions she was feeling. Mostly it was indignation about Temujin’s innocence and her clan’s unfair treatment of him. But it was other bigger issues as well; older issues. Temujin just stirred up all the frustrations she had long been denying. On the strict regimen of a princess and under the watchful eye of the Emperor and his extensions, she felt like a bird in a cage. It was golden, but a cage nonetheless. There were also many things they wouldn’t tell her; about her father, that day ten years ago when he perished before her very eyes. It was strange but all the knowledge she had of him was the little she could glean from History books and from that sole, hazy memory of her childhood. They had always treated her like a child, incapable of making her own decisions or surviving on her own. And every mistake she made was magnified in the eyes of her tutors and
Aki had reached the Armory. If her guess was right, here she would find all the red Slayer stuff that had been confiscated from Temujin. She figured the best way to tell if Temujin was lying was by checking if every part of his story fitted. She could do that by studying his possessions. Detective work, forensic science, and logical reasoning were all fundamental skills of a Slayer. She rummaged through shelves of close-range weapons – the shorter shinobuken and the longer wakizashi swords – then long-range ones – grenades, throwing stars, knives, blowguns – till her eyes settled on a box that was clearly set apart from the rest. She knew at once they were Temujin’s belongings. First, there was the familiar bright red color of his obi. For some reason, his jailers thought it best not to let him keep his belt sash. Next, there was a pair of tiger claws. Individually, those consisted of two iron bands conjoined by a leather strip; the upper one slipped around the palm and had spikes