Book 7, Chapter 45 - The Winner Decided (1/2)

Book 7, Chapter 45 - The Winner Decided

So the Skycloud visitors were challenging Stormford’s best?

Whispers of excitement immediately started to circulate. Recently there were a lot of stories about Cloudhawk but in Stormford it was all hearsay. Now was the chance for everyone to see if the tales were true.

Cloudhawk wanted to rebel against the gods? First he had to show if he had what it took.

Charon couldn’t wait to get started. “I challenge one of you!”

He was a bristly and excitable man who gave a fidgety impression. However, to reach the rank of Commander-General he had to have skill to back it up. His facade was a way to confound his opponents.

Dawn was similarly itching to try her skills. There was a dark promise in her eyes she only barely held back.

Dawn was not the same girl as before. That was proved when she held back in her desire to murder Frost. Her blood lust was still there, but she had learned to recognize the big picture. She drew inspiration from Cloudhawk, who worked in Abaddon even though the demon murdered one of his closest friends.

He was strong enough that if he wanted to snuff out the beast, he could do so easily. But he didn’t. Did he want to? Of course he did, but he held back. He wasn’t an unfeeling man and in fact he felt things quite deeply. But he had responsibilities as a leader. They required that he suppress his own grudges for the greater good. And if he could do it, Dawn was sure she could too.

It wasn’t giving up. It was biding time.

Just wait, Frost. One day I’ll open your throat. And not just you. Abaddon as well. Anyone who hurts Cloudhawk is on my list. Ah yes, and Wolfblade… he’s a fucking snake as well. When he has no worth anymore then he’ll be dealt with. If I’m not strong enough? Then I’ll get Selene to help me.

Dawn always suspected Wolfblade’s intentions. She would never be comfortable so long as he was by Cloudhawk’s side. Selene had to feel the same way.

Stormford’s people gathered round to watch as two young faces joined Cloudhawk. Frost de Winter was a representative of Skycloud’s new generation of leaders. Autumn was about the same age as Cloudhawk but since being taken by the Shepherd God, she had not appeared to age. From outside she still looked to be in her early twenties.

Three fresh faces. Did they really expect to beat Stormford’s best?

Cloudhawk looked over their challengers. “So who’s going first?”

Before Autumn could begin to respond, Frost stepped forward. With an easy leap he jumped into the ring set up nearby for sparring exhibitions. He held a huge spear in one hand that was wrapped in dark energies.

So be it – Frost de Winter would take the first bout.

“Hahaha! This young nobody is so eager to fight me, eh? I could wipe the floor with you one-handed!” Charon’s eyes strayed to the weapon in Frost’s hands. Despite his harsh words and brazen appearance, there was fear in his eyes.

That relic… that was no ordinary weapon. And anyone who held it had to have the strength to use it.

Frost said nothing. He remained silent, waiting, standing still upon the dais.

He was the perfect representation of a male. A small bit of stubble on his cheeks made him gruff and masculine. His simple clothing was not ostentatious. Cold, piercing blue eyes revealed the faintest trace of melancholy. Young yet mature. He was more attractive now than he was in those early days.

“Good lad! Settle matters first, then we trade words!”

Charon charged at Frost. He punched with his right arm, straight as a dagger. Tattoos scrawled across his skin lit up and all at once his whole arm became a blade of lightning. His power surged.

Assuming Charon Barak was a martial artist would be wrong.

While his equipment was sparse in appearance, he was awash in mental power. The waves Cloudhawk felt marked him as similar in strength to Bruno, making him equivalent to a Master himself!

Frost reacted with a thrust of his right hand, sending Ashfall forth.

When the weapon neared, Charon felt enveloped in a slew of powers he did not expect. Corrosion, sluggishness, and a bone-deep cold swept through him. The strength and expansive nature of it took him off guard.