The mountain was picturesque, the forest that encompasses the mountain was evergreen. The trees were green, with the occasional yellow, creating a scene right out of a painting.
A lake lied at the foot of the mountain. Its crystalline blue water undisturbed by the blemish of human touch.
Fish swam plentiful in the lake, the ecosystem, untouched by external predators was self sustaining.
The smaller fish ate the plankton and the algae, the big fish ate the smaller fish, and the larger fish ate the big fish.
The final cog in this ecosystem was the lone man who fished in the lake.
The man wore a loose fitting robe that barely covered his chest. His hair dark, long and flowing.
Despite the simple mortal lifestyle he lived, there was no mark of hardship on his body.
His back was straight and firm as a pillar, his palms were devoid of the calluses caused by hard labour.
His fingers uncut by the strings of a fisherman’s net or pole.
His skin the healthy pale of a man accustomed to rest within shade.
He sat on the banks of the lake, a rope in his hand attached to a net he just flung in to the lake.
He pulled the net with a mighty heave, the fish emerged from the lake with unnatural ease for fish struggling underwater.
The man picked the large fish caught within the net and let the smaller ones back into the pristine lake.
“You know, I never understood why you let the small ones leave. They would just as well fill your stomach.” Commented a woman who appeared as suddenly behind the fisherman as an eagle snatching a young chick.
She wore a beautiful red hanfu, the Ru (upper garment) embroidered with golden leafs. The hem of the Qun (skirt) designed depicted black flames roaring below a red sky that made the hanfu.
Her hair the colour of crimson, tied behind her head in a bun, held together by a jade hairpin, that would have been worth more than the mountain they stood on.
Her facial features were typical to a person originating the Eastern Continent. Her beauty however was extraordinary.
The fisherman turned to look at her, and despite the abruptness of her appearance, he appeared nowhere near startled.
He looked at her with a friendly smile on his face.
“Everything in this world has an order, I am just fulfilling my place in it.” He says wisely.
“With no natural predators present, the large fish would thrive causing the smaller fish population to plummet, disrupting the entire cycle.”
“They need to be culled, whereas, the smaller fish need not.” He explains to her.
The woman stares at the man for a bit before nodding in understanding.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Come to my hut, I shall serve you some delicious, freshly grilled fish.” The man invites her.
The woman shakes her head before sighing in disappointment.
“You know that I am not here for pleasantries. I am here to do my duty, whether I like it or not.” She says apologetically.
“And I assume your duty involves fetching my head for your master?” He quips.
“I am to bring you intact if possible.” She says uncertain.
“Ah, yes. You covet the knowledge I possess don’t you?” He jokes.
“Unfortunately, I prefer not to become a slave to your so called Righteous Alliance. You shall either take me dead, or not take me at all.” He says without dropping his gracious smile.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“So be it!” She says before unleashing her martial soul.
An ethereal owl appears behind her, its feathers the colour of mud, with the occasional green plumes. Its feathers were covered in pixie dust that shone brilliantly when scattered.
The martial soul appears for a mere split second before it flickers away.
A pair of mud brown wings instead appear on the back of the woman.
She draws a saber out of thin air, and positions it in a guarding position anticipating an attack only to find the man standing still, hands clasped behind his back and the same graceful smile on his face.
The woman furrows her eyebrows understanding that she can’t make him attack her and thus take advantage of her defensive fighting style.
She changes her stance to an attack position for an instant before flashing forward.
The sudden movement leaves behind a streak of afterimages and create a sonic boom, flinging dirt and mud in all directions.
Yet, despite the seemingly instant movement, the man only met it with his usual calm. Calmly sidestepping the attack before blocking the subsequent combo of attacks using a gelatinous substance which absorbed the attack.
The woman leaps back and takes to the sky in order to create distance and reassess her approach.
Meanwhile, the man’s martial soul reveals itself.
A transparent slime floats on top of the man’s head, constantly squirming without proper form before sagging down.
His martial soul lacked a core that other slimes possessed.
The core of a slime held its structural integrity, without which it was no different than a puddle of gelatinous water.
He then glowed with an ominous red light.
His pupils turned crimson red and his nails elongated into claws. His canines evolved into fangs.
His martial soul started morphing the moment the red light erupted from his body.
It started turning crimson red with blood before most of the blood coalesced into a core, leaving the slime appear translucent. The slime became a diluted red in colour, and it finally started to appear more cohesive, its structural integrity restored by the addition of the blood core.
“So that’s the feared bloodline of the Raktabeej!” The woman muttered, concern rising through her.
She ignited her own bloodline as well. Flames burst forward from her, and a screech that shook the earth erupted from within her.
A phoenix soared to the sky before returning to her and merging with her.
Her martial spirit underwent a qualitative change. The brown owl’s body changed to looks like cooled volcanic rock, cracked with fiery magma lines running across it. The cracks glowed with a bright, fiery orange-yellow light, giving the impression of heat radiating from within.
Magma flowed within the beast, while the plumes of the bird flared at random intervals with orange flames.
The wings on her back turned black with red lines, like burning charcoal.
“Cool!” The man commented with the same characteristic smile on his face.
The woman, despite her powerup looked wary. She darted glances at the surroundings, looking for signs of any trouble.
She then glances at the man and tries to inspect him. She weaves a few runes together to cast an inspection spell.
Name: Ramos Jett
Titles: The Mad Titan, Bloodreaver, Sorceror King,….
Martial Rank: Martial King
Cultivation Level: 87
Martial Soul: N/A
Bloodline: N/A
Runes: N/A
Martial Soul Skills: N/A
Bloodline Skills: N/A
Dao: N/A
The woman frowns, ‘Most of the most important information regarding him remained hidden, no doubt due to a protective spell the man must have cast.’ She reasons.
She was far from being as skilled as Ramos in the art of Sorcery. It was no easy feat to earn the title Sorcerer King.
‘This is going to be a close fight.’ The woman thinks.
‘His lower martial rank, while a disadvantage against me, doesn’t mean much against a monster like him.’
Despite being a whole rank lower than her, he was widely considered one of the most powerful beings on the planet.
“Come on I can’t do this all day!” Ramos shouts at her, grinning like a mad man.
The woman rushed in with a speed that far surpassed what she displayed prior. Her saber coated in flames, she swung it diagonally right as she passed by him.
Ramos barely dodges the attack, his smile finally fading and a rare serious expression flashing, before the smile resumes.
“Ooh.. Nearly had me there, too bad you missed.” He quips at her.
She turns to face him, with a smirk on her face.
“Not entirely.” She replies with smugness uncharacteristic of her.
Wet liquid dripped onto Ramos’s palm.
He notices it, an touches the origin of the bleed. A thin cut on his cheek was bleeding out, dripping a small amount of blood which slowly dribbled down his chin before falling on the ground.
The smile vanishes from his face, and the woman feels a pang of satisfaction from wiping out the insufferable smile off his face.
He then looks at her for a brief moment, before bursting out laughing, cackling madly into the sky, leaving her perplexed and on guard.
He finally stopped laughing, taking in a deep breath.
“It’s been a while since I had been so surprised, or wounded. This will be a fight worth it, even if it ends in the death of either one of us.” He says.
Both of them look at each other and nod, knowing that the clash that would follow will determine the fate of each other.
Either they return victorious and thus, earn immeasurable fame, or they die, leaving their infamy usurped by their slayer.
