Chapter Ashborn 330: Upgrades

Vir swept his gaze across the fifteen others who’d succeeded.

“Guess Roshan made it, huh?” Vir muttered, eyeing the son of Raja Thaman.

“Well, of course he did, lad,” Cirayus said from beside Vir. “I didn’t train that whelp for nothing.”

“You trained him? I thought you hadn’t taken on a disciple in a long while?”

Cirayus shrugged. “Nothing as formal as that. The kid has potential. All I did was nudge him along.”

Vir suspected Cirayus’ ‘nudges’ more closely resembled hellish and deadly training than he’d ever let on, which prompted Vir to move Roshan up several slots in his mental leaderboard of potential threats. No demon who’d trained under Cirayus would be a pushover.

Unsurprisingly, Zarak’Nor—the Iksana they’d encountered on the way to Camar Gadin—was one. Vir spotted Roshan, Raja Thaman’s son, and a smattering of Aindri, Iksana, Bairans, and Chitran as well. And among them was likely Vir’s would-be assassin.

If they were there, though, they made no sign of showing it. Aside from a few appraising glances from the rest, Vir had received no attention at all. In fact, more people seemed to look at Tara until she shifted back to her humanoid form.

“Cirayus, we need to talk,” Vir muttered. “We ran into some trouble back there.”

Vir filled Cirayus in on the Iksana assassin and the group that had been hired to take him out.

The giant listened in silence, stroking his beard. “Not unheard of, though concerning nonetheless. You were right to act as you did. I will let Thaman know, and I’ll put out some feelers of my own. Whoever they are, I doubt you’ve seen the last of them.”

“I agree,” Vir said. He was about to say more when Tara came walking up to them, wearing an easy smile.

“You certainly seem popular,” Vir commented.

“Not me, specifically,” Tara replied. “Just that Panav fighters are exceedingly rare in these Tournaments. We only have one bloodline art that’s offensive, and even that isn’t really designed for one-on-one duels. Panav fighters usually lose pretty miserably early on, unless they’ve mastered an Aspect.”

“Even then,” Cirayus commented, coming up to them. “There’s a reason Bloodline Arts are carefully passed down—even the regular ones. They tend to manifest powerful effects far more often than the Aspects. Not to mention, a Panav with all of their Bloodline Arts won’t have space for an Aspect, anyway.”

“I see,” Vir replied, appraising Tara. “Which means you have some other advantage if you hope to win.”

The naga snorted. “Sorry, win? I think we all know who’s winning this one,” she replied, glancing at Cirayus. “No, I have no delusions about winning. I’ll just be happy if I make it to the semifinals.”

“Right,” Vir said with a wry smile.

“What about yourself? What’s your goal?” she asked.

Vir laughed sheepishly. “Oh, y’know… As far as I get, I suppose.”

“Makes sense. As newcomers, we’ll have a hard time. Fighting in the Tournament’s not like most fights. The rules make it tougher, and the ones who do the best know the competition like the back of their hand. Anyway, I gotta run. Looks like Thaman’s about to clear us out soon, anyway.” Tara nodded at the Bairan Raja, who was currently addressing a growing number of Bairans.

Judging from their sigils, Vir guessed they were Baira’s army—or at least, the closest thing they had to one. Every Bairan wore their own style of armor and wielded their personal weapons. There was no uniformity to it at all, unlike the armies of the Human Realm, or even those of the Chitran.

“I suppose they’re preparing to rescue any demons stuck in the Ash,” Tara muttered. “Well, I’d better be off. Thanks a million for the help. See you in the Tournament. No hard feelings if we fight, yeah? I know I’ll be watching your fights closely.”

“As will I,” Vir replied, waving at the naga as she walked away.

“Well, lad?” Cirayus said. “Do you agree with her assessment?”

“About the troops? Sure, that’s definitely part of why they’re here.”

“And the other reason?” Cirayus said with a knowing smile.

“Come on, Cirayus. It’s not hard to guess. Thaman now has unfettered access to a stable Ash Gate. One big enough to move entire columns of troops through. If I were him, I’d have my troops train nonstop on the other side. Right up until the moment the Gate destabilizes. I mean, it’s what I did with my troops. They’re there even now, growing stronger.”

And I’m not there with them, Vir didn’t add. While his time here was necessary, it was time away from the war effort. All the more reason to ensure he won. Failure not only meant missing out on Balancer of Scales, it’d mean he had burned weeks of precious time as well.

“Indeed, he does, lad,” Cirayus responded, eyeing the Gate. “Thaman’s a crafty leader. No doubt he intended for the Tournament Warriors to clear out Ash Beasts on the other side before his own troops moved in to set up camp. Free labor, so to speak. Do you understand what this means?”

Vir frowned. “It means Thaman has a leg up on the other clan thanks to the Gate… Which is good, since they’re one of the most likely to rally to our cause. Once I prove my worth, as you said.”

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“All true, but not the point. Don’t you see how this new ability of yours has you soaring in the eyes of anyone who knows? This boon you provide… It has a very useful quality in that it requires you to constantly replenish the prana within your Gates.”

“More of a hassle, than anything,” Vir began, but cut himself off. “You’re saying that my continued involvement means I hold power over whoever I grant access to these Gates.”

“Exactly, lad! Think about it. You need do nothing to allow them to expire. Perhaps that may not be all that catastrophic now, but imagine. Imagine a Demon Realm interconnected by your Gates. A realm that relies on supplies traveling through them from one end to the other. The prosperity it will bring is simply immeasurable. And…”

“And the devastation it would cause if it ceases to be would also be immeasurable,” Vir completed, heart pounding as the ramifications began to dawn upon him.

“Aye, lad. Once clans depend on you, you become vital. Forget old feuds—they’ll be falling over themselves to keep you happy. And safe. Your livelihood and cooperation will be the pillar that supports demonkind. Not militarily, but economically. In every age, those who destroy are hated. Those who excel at creation, however, are protected like a national treasure.”

“That’s… I admit, I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Vir said. Once entrenched, and if demonkind truly prospered the way Cirayus said they would, he’d be able to demand nearly anything from the Rajas. Riches, Ultimate Bloodline Tattoos… They would dance in the palm of his hand.

“I would never do that to those I call friends,” Vir said immediately.

“No. But in politics, insurance never hurts. Besides, while you may not threaten your friends, I have a feeling you’ll have far fewer compunctions about doing so to those you once called enemies,” Cirayus said with a knowing look.

Vir’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps.” He knew right then and there that he absolutely would use such tactics against the Chitran to keep them in line. Though where that line between friend and foe was drawn, he wasn’t exactly sure.

“Tournament begins tomorrow,” Cirayus said. “What are your plans? Will you finally take a moment to relax?”

Vir shook his head, coming out of his thoughts. “No time, I’m afraid. There’s something else I need to do before my first fight.”

His gaze settled on the Ash Wolf beside him. “I need to teach Shan how to use his tattoo.”

The task was easier said than done. For this, Vir, Cirayus, and Shan headed outside the city to a remote location near the Ash Boundary almost an hour away. The chances of being seen in the empty fields here were low, and the prana density would allow Shan the greatest chance of mastering his power.

Unfortunately, the Ash Gate they’d used for the qualifiers was now under heavy Bairan guard, and while Cirayus might’ve been able to convince Thaman to grant Vir an exception, it’d have attracted too much attention. Vir already had too many eyes on him—the Iksana assassin was more than enough proof of that. The prana near the Boundary would have to suffice.

Vir knelt before the Ash Wolf. “Shan… I never know how much you understand of what I say, but you’re smart. I know you are. That tattoo we put on you,” he said, pushing down his armor to reveal his own mark, “I want you to push your prana into it. Like, this.”

Canceling the flow of prana into the tattoo that his affinity, Vir then started it up again, moving it according to the pattern of the tattoo.

Shan watched intently as Vir did this several times.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Now, you try.”

The wolf tilted its head in confusion, and so Vir repeated the action before pointing at Shan.

This time, the wolf seemed to understand. Vir grew excited as he watched prana flow through the tattoo. “That’s it! Just like that!”

It soon became apparent that the Ashfire Wolf required no encouragement. Shan traced it effortlessly, despite having done nothing like this before. His instinct and natural aptitude were simply unparalleled.

Vir backed away a few paces, allowing Shan the space he’d need if an ability manifested. The prana cycled… and cycled… and kept cycling.

“What’s the matter, lad?” Cirayus asked, seeing Vir’s puzzled expression.

“Well, Shan’s moving prana through the tattoo—nearly perfectly, from what I can tell. Just that nothing’s happening.”

Cirayus’ eyes widened. Then he laughed. “Figure an Ash wolf masters the hard part immediately. Except, I suppose the intent might be the tough part for him.”

“Intent… As in visualizing the attack?” Vir asked.

Cirayus nodded. “For most demons, it is trivial to envision a fireball hurtling toward one’s foes. For Shan, there, I doubt such visualization comes easily despite his intelligence.”

It was true—Shan hadn’t been exposed to such magic with any regularity. Even if he had, could Shan envision such an abstract ideal in his head?

“Shan? Think of a fireball. Big fire. Whoosh,” Vir said, making a blowing gesture with his hands. “And then, boom.” Vir mimed an explosion and looked at Shan expectantly.

The wolf simply stared back, his face impassive and expressionless.

“Now, I’m no expert,” Cirayus said. “But I don’t think he’s impressed.”

Vir threw the giant a glare. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, lad. Trouble is, you don’t have a tattoo suited for demonstrating what you mean, and Balancer of Scales is far too abstract for the poor wolf to have a chance of understanding.”

Vir thought of Aida, but she only had Giant’s Hide and Giant’s Grace. She wasn’t a combatant—those would do them little good.

“I suppose we’ll just have to keep practicing, then. Won’t we, Shan?” Vir said, turning back to the beast.

The hours passed, and Vir tried everything he could think of. Even Cirayus began pitching suggestions upon seeing the difficulty Vir was having.

Yet try as they might, they were entirely unsuccessful in getting the beast to manifest even the barest glimmer of magic.

“Is it bad that I wish Saunak were here?” Vir asked, at his wits end. “A part of me wonders if I ought to have allowed him to experiment on Shan.”

“I hear you, lad. Just know that Saunak is as likely to kill your poor friend as he is to strengthen him,” Cirayus said, placing a reassuring hand on Vir’s shoulder. “It’ll come in time. Expecting results on the first day was unreasonable. Even for Shan.”

“I know,” Vir sighed. “Just that it’d have really come in handy, y’know?”

“You’ll get by without it,” Cirayus said consolingly. “If you ask me, what’ll help you more than a new tattoo is food in your belly, and a solid night’s rest. What do you say we head home and I rustle something up for the three of us?”

Vir smiled. I’d like that. I’d like that very much.

Shan separated from the group on the way back, as he often did. This time, it was the call of a lone Ash Biter that’d strayed too far from the Boundary. While his master might have killed such prey out of a desire to protect others, for Shan, this meal was every bit as tasty as the one he’d have in the giant’s home later on.

The wolf licked his lips and pounced, moving so fast he blurred.

The Ash Biter stood no chance—Shan had ended thousands of its ilk, after all. His attack was the embodiment of perfection.

Except, on this day, perfection just grew a little deadlier.

For instead of merely sinking his fangs into the Biter’s neck, his mouth bristled, growing hot.

Hotter and hotter, until his fangs glowed red with heat.

They passed effortlessly through the Biter’s neck, searing and cauterizing the wound even as they entered.

The wound was so clean, so fast, that the Biter died before even knowing what hit it.

Shan unclenched his jaw, and from the wound, steam arose. Shan licked his lips. He would enjoy this snack very, very much.

Were anyone around, they’d have seen not just an Ash Wolf, but an Ash Wolf with a mouth that was so hot, it glowed red. Were anyone around, they’d have thought such a Wolf was a demon from the worst planes of the Ash. A creature so foul, it would spell the end of the Demon Realm.

For, in that moment, Shan cut such a frightful figure that he might very well have spawned such tall tales. Tales that might’ve been passed down and told millennia later to naughty children as they sleep.

Luckily, there was no one to witness it. No one, that was, except a handful of Bairan Warriors who stood shaking in their boots long after the wolf had gone.