Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 219: Redirection

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Aldir Thyestes

The mana arts of the pantheon race were unlike the other races of Epheotus. While the hamadryads focused on cultivating nature and its powers, the sylphs glided freely across the infinite winds, and the leviathans mastered the deepest of unknown depths, the pantheons embraced something more fundamental.

I shifted my feet a fraction of an inch as the head of a spear, red as a shear-thorn rose's petals, flashed less than an inch from my face. The single eye I kept open tracked its perfect, glimmering edge as if it were moving underwater.

The spear retracted, quicker than a snapdragon wasp's stinger after a successful kill. Yet the point of this weapon was no unerring stinger. I used minimal movements–bare adjustments of my feet, waves of my hands, and changes to my position–to ward off any and all attacks from the spear.

For most asura, they would have only witnessed a blur as Taci Thyestes' weapon flashed toward me, attempting to draw lines and cuts across my being. Yet I was graceful as the wind. I was as fluid as water. I was hot as fire, and I was sturdy as earth.

And in truth, I was none of those. I was force itself–every incarnation it could possibly be.

I grabbed the haft of the weapon just as it neared the dark plates of my armor. And then, with the barest exertion on my part, I shifted, pulling the weapon inward and toward my center of mass.

My sparring partner tumbled forward as I pulled him off balance. Taci lost his grip on his weapon as he was forced to raise his arms in front of himself, rolling and readjusting with incredible grace as he shot past me with equally incredible force.

I simply turned, inspecting the young asura with my sole eye as he reoriented, planting his feet firmly on the soft grass beneath our feet once more. The young pantheon's two eyes narrowed as he fought to suppress an irritated scowl.

I inspected the spear in my gauntleted hand, admiring the craftsmanship. It was one of the eminent creations of the greatest weaponsmiths of the asura, Wren Kain IV. Though the rigid titan had disappeared not long ago, the exquisite workmanship remained.

"The pantheons are blades, Taci Thyestes," I said calmly, looking my young protege's spear up and down. "We are the finest weapons, honed until we cut better than any other. It is in our blood to pursue the martial path, to make the most of our gifts. We are force incarnate, young warrior–but you do not seem to understand this."

We were currently stationed within Castle Indrath, looming over the slopes of Mount Geolus. As the young warrior had partially succeeded in training within the aether orb–he was extracted every few months and allowed time for his mind to adjust before re-entry–now he was granted permission to test himself across the back of the last Great Catastrophe. Few of the rising generation of asura ever achieved such a privilege, even within the Indrath Clan, which spoke to the enormity of my protege's skills.

The spear shimmered, disappearing from my grip. In an instant, it reappeared in Taci's outstretched hands. His knuckles were whiter than Lady Myre's scales as he snapped them shut like a vise.

"You've repeated this a dozen times, master," the young asura said with restrained agitation. He wasn't even out of his teens–practically a child for an asura. Even with a decade and a half within the aether orb so far, his lack of emotional control was understandable. "But I do not yet understand what you mean. I have been told by many that the force of my blade is exceptional. What am I doing wrong?"

I restrained a sigh. Taci had grown fast, even for an asura. The young warrior had not been given the time to digest the philosophies of our clan, for he outstripped all near his age in martial prowess–and many who were far beyond his age, too.