The Beginning After The End novel Chapter 123

Chapter 123

Chapter 123: Battles In Various Scenarios

“Wait, you made this sword?” I echoed with obvious skepticism. Since coming across such a mysterious sword, I had often wondered who this W.K IV was. More than once had I scoured through the library of Xyrus Academy in hopes to find the smith with those initials, only to be met with disappointment and a dizzying amount of royal names.

“Was I speaking a different language?” Wren replied curtly, his eyes still inspecting Dawn’s Ballad.

Ignoring his quip, I changed my approach. “Okay, so assuming that you did forge this sword, what was it doing in Dicathen?”

Until now, I had assumed that my sword was of dwarven origin because of their specialty in this craft. A dark, bulky, bear of a man with a thick beard and bulging arms covered with hair and hands hardened with callouses had always come to mind when imagining the maker of Dawn’s Ballad; the typical stereotype associated with smiths and other metalworkers. Instead, this bony man that looked like he’d get tired holding a pen for too long stated that he had forged this sword.

“Dawn’s Ballad was one of my experimental weapons—more or less a failure. I tossed it away in the Beast Glades of your continent on one of my visits to gather minerals, assuming that no one would be able to even tell it was anything other than a black stick, much less open it. To think that it had somehow ended up in your possession...What are the odds?” The asura actually began to calculate the probability of this before I interrupted him.

“A failure? I’ve never seen a sword of better quality and make in my life. What makes it a failure?” I pressed.

“As much as a compliment your words may be, comparing my weapons—no matter how poor in quality—to the primitive tools used by you lesser races only insults me.” He clicked his tongue. “I had forged this sword as more of a one-size-fits-all weapon. I must’ve been drunk when I thought that was a good idea. This sword just came out to be a sharp tool, nothing more, nothing less.” Wren finally pried his eyes off of the sword and exchanged glances at Windsom. “But this makes things interesting.”

Looking over my shoulder, I could see Windsom’s stoic face break into a smile as he replied, “I thought it might. So what do you think after meeting him? Will you do it?”

“What is going on?” I interrupted, lost. I began to grow afraid that the asura might claim back his weapon or even dispose of it completely for the sake of his pride. There was no doubt that I would never find a sword of this quality despite it being a “failure.”

“Arthur, I brought you here to Wren to accomplish two things. The first one, I had mentioned earlier. While his methods are unconventional, Wren has an usually keen eye in the practical theory of combat. The second reason was in hopes that Wren would produce a sword that is a better fit for your own unique form of combat.”

“Is that true?” I turned to Wren. “You’ll really forge a sword for me?”

“I don’t forge swords, brat. I create them. And I only came to train you because I owed a favor to Lord Indrath. His favor didn’t extend to wasting my time, making a sword for a lesser being.” Wren slid Dawn’s Ballad into its scabbard. “Anyways, I’m going to hold onto this sword for now.”

“For now? So you’ll give it back to me?” I confirmed, still apprehensive.

“Boy, Dawn’s Ballad might be just a sharp tool, but it still chose you. I’m not proud of this particular piece, but I’m not going to take it away from you,” he replied. The asura then stretched his arm in front of him and a sword suddenly emerged from the ground below. Grabbing the sword by its hilt, he tossed it to me. “For now, use this while training. I created it to measure the movements the user produces and the force of the impact it receives.”

“And you can just summon it from the ground at any time?” I asked, holding the seemingly normal shortsword in my hands.

“Out of everything I’ve done so far, you’re surprised by this?” Wren shook his head, motioning his hand at me. “Let me also hold onto the dragon feather.”

“What? Why this too?” I retreated, clasping my hand over my arm to cover the white feather.

“Do you find an innate urge to question everything I do?” the hunched asura snapped.

I reluctantly handed over the white feather over to Wren, scratching the scar I received after being bonded to Sylvie. Without the feather to cover it up, I felt bare, as if my skin had been removed.

Wren tucked the feather into his coat. “Now, I’m aware that you lesser beings need much more sleep than we do, so get some rest.”

“Wait, so we’re spending the night out here in the center of this barren crater?” I asked, looking around.

“Who said anything about we? Windsom and I have matters to attend to. And besides, there’s not always going to be a fluffy bed waiting for you during war, so I’m doing this for you.” The asura had a wicked smirk on his face as Windsom conjured a teleportation gate.

“Try to get some rest, Arthur,” Windsom advised just before stepping into the gate.

As the glowing runes making the teleportation circle faded, it grew eerily quiet. The occasional whistles of wind were the only sounds to be heard as I let out a sigh. Slipping my dusty clothes back on, I conjured up two slabs of earth to form a makeshift tent.

I must’ve knocked out as soon as laid my head against the pile of rocks I had gathered because a violent tremble caused me to smack my head against my stone pillow, jolting me awake in pain. I lowered the stone tent that I had created to be startled by the sight of countless golems encircled around my camp. Each of them wielded a different weapon but they all raised their weapons above their stone heads and swung down in unison.

My body acted on autopilot as I instinctively raised a dome of earth to protect me. With an explosive thud, the dome had crumbled and the debris fell on top of me. I was still dazed by the situation when Wren’s amplified voice resounded from above.

“You will never truly be at rest while you’re in the middle of a war, kid. You need to get used to fighting effectively in a suboptimal state. Now, strip your clothes and resume battle.”

Throughout the battle, Wren shouted out pointers, advising me to avoid being herded into a corner as I continued to mow down enemy golems. Every now and then, golems that were stronger than usual would pop up, throwing me off guard as they massacred the golems on my side. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was positive that Wren could easily conjure a golem capable of killing me if he wanted to.

The day ended when I was able to take down all of the major golems that Wren had been so kind to distinguish with golden crowns on top of their heads.

“That was brutal,” I sighed, laying flat on the ground. I was in an almost constant state of battle from the moment I was rudely awakened, with no chance to eat, drink, or even pee.

Dinner was spent around a fire after Wren casually removed the golems and fake blood with a swipe of his hand. We began by debriefing the battle; Windsom had yet to return from wherever he and Wren went last night, so it was only Wren that was present to point out the mistakes I had made, from the minor ones to the potentially fatal ones.

“The total number of casualties on your side was 271 golems, while the other side had 512. Not an impressive victory considering the level I had made the golems on the enemy side,” Wren read off from his notes.

“Maybe it’s because they look like stone gorillas that I feel no empathy for them, regardless of whether they’re on my team or not,” I countered, biting into a tofu-like substance that Wren had given me to eat.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Go to sleep now. Tomorrow isn’t going to get any easier,” Wren replied as he jotted down some notes.

I had grown used to Wren’s sharp way of talking, as if even his words were a scarce commodity. Turning away from them, I conjured a makeshift bed of soft sand and hoped that the next time I was awakened wouldn’t be by an army of golems.

My thoughts ran amok during this period of rest. I thought about my role in the previous world. While there were a lot of flaws in the way the world was governed in my past life, I had to admit, things were simpler for me. When the outcome of nearly all problems rested on just one battle, it was black or white. Wars almost never happened unless it was a multi-country dispute. Even then, mass-scaled battles happened in controlled environments to minimize the death counts. This upcoming war wouldn’t have that. There were too many shades of grays to be accounted for.

I speculated on the different scenarios that could potentially happen because of this war. What would the casualties be? And to what extent should the end outweigh these casualties? I pondered. I had no one I cared for back on Earth. However, was I willing to sacrifice my loved ones for the “greater good?” Undoubtedly not.

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I hardly did these days. To my surprise, I was able to get a good night’s rest. While my arms and legs ached from overuse, there were no golems on sight, leaving me more suspicious than relieved.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream from behind made me whip around. What I saw bewildered me just as much as it filled me with horror.

With two, black horns gleaming menacingly against the morning sun, an asura of the Vritra Clan stood over me. Covered from the neck down in completely black-plated armor, the basilisk in human form opened his lips into a triumphant grin to reveal a row of jagged teeth, and in his grasp was someone I thought I would never see here.

I was barely able to form a word as another gut-wrenching scream was ripped out from the Vritra’s hostage. “T-Tess?”