“One strike is all I need to take care of that sun-worshipping Nippon Devil.”

  Jinfeng’s eye twitched to hear her blue-haired second’s grumbling, so much so that it took a moment of quiet meditation to calm her nerves and respond appropriately. “Novice Superior Hú Dié, if you cannot speak with a civil tongue,” she replied, keeping her tone terse but not overtly hostile, “Then you will remain silent.”

  “Tch.” Hú Dié had the nerve to suck her teeth, and even mutter, “It’s not as if these foreigners can even understand us.”

  “But I can, so if you are incapable of maintaining the dignity of your new rank, then I will appoint a second who can.” The rebuke came out sharper than intended, forcing Jinfeng to go back to her meditation to rein her irritation in. Not for the first time, she lamented the loss of Ao Tian. Not because she cared much for him, or that he was particularly skilled as her second. Any paperwork delegated to him had to be checked and double checked to ensure he hadn’t made any mistakes, while his penchant for fighting duels created even more paperwork to fill out. This was on top of his contentious attitude, acting as if Jinfeng belonged to him even though she had no romantic interest in him or any other man who saw her as a prize to be won.

  So almost every man she’d ever met, and most of the women too. Disheartening that, but might made right, so Jinfeng would simply have to speak with her fists and show them all the error of their ways.

  One thing that Ao Tian was good for was distracting her rivals. Because he was second only to her and superior to all others, his absence left a void wherein Hú Dié and their other rivals had no direct competition besides Jinfeng herself, so she was always butting heads with the surly and shapely Aberrant. Hú Dié never offered a direct challenge, as theirs was a poor match up wherein Jinfeng held all the advantages, but that proved no barrier to the gorgeous, blue-haired woman’s snarky commentary or endless complaints. Especially after Jinfeng was promoted from Novice Superior to Officer Cadet upon her return from the Badlands, a reward for returning the bodies of the fallen Vanguards killed by the Firstborn’s own hand.

  Well… three fallen Vanguard at least, ones who died several years ago after murdering Corporal Ming. Thanks to Prince Gong’s blundering machinations however, the Firstborn killed another six Vanguard on his way out of the Badlands this past January, and the fact that he showed mercy enough to take the seven remaining survivors’ prisoner was surprising to say the least. He even made sure the bodies of the fallen were delivered back to the Republic, and while he made no effort to adhere to their customs of returning the fallen back on their feet, that was already far more than Jinfeng would have expected after spending time with the contentious and contrary man.

  That said, while the greatest loss the Republic suffered from this was losing out on the Firstborn, they also lost a promising candidate of a future Sword Saint. They might have lost even more if Ao Tian had not fallen upon his sword and accepted responsibility for the failed attempt on the Firstborn’s life, a noble if lamentable act which saw him consigned to a lifetime of penal labour and his name stricken from the Vanguard roster. All while the real culprit behind it all, the ignoble ‘Prince’ Chang Gong, was left entirely unscathed despite snatching defeat from the jaws of overwhelming victory. Truly a feat for the ages, because if not for him, Jinfeng might well have convinced the Firstborn to willingly visit Fuyuan to speak with the General in person, but now Hao Wei was convinced the Republic wanted him dead.

  Which wasn’t entirely untrue. Elder Sang Gong and his allies would be more than happy to take the Firstborn’s head. A traitor they called him, a deserter to the cause who killed nine Vanguard so far, even though each time he acted in self defense. Then again, having met him once, Jinfeng was quite sure he’d happily kill his countrymen so long as he had proper reason to do so, the same way he hunted men and women of any and all races for nothing but coin.

  The Imperial Dragon and Firstborn of the Frontier, raised by foreigners and reduced to a lowly, money-grubbing mercenary and killer for hire. Disgraceful is what that was, a shame on the General’s bloodline, so much so that he had no counter to the criticisms levied against the Firstborn by Elder Sang Chang and his cronies. A rabid dog they called him, one who was at the beck and call of the Federal Government and criminals alike. The Firstborn’s exploits in the Deadlands had not gone unnoticed either, and all but ended the General’s efforts to raise his nephew’s reputation. It was one thing to fight and kill for the Republic, but another altogether to do so for personal profit, to say nothing of his rumoured ties to South American Cultists and taking in the remnants of some fool of an Independent warlord who dabbled in dealing drugs and chemical explosives.

  The same fool the Firstborn killed early last year, a conflict which cost him his right hand.

  All in all? The Firstborn’s history read less like an exemplary paragon of skill and virtue and more like a budding criminal in the process of building his illicit empire by taking out his rivals. He’d even gained himself a new title, the Bloody Four-Armed Asura, named for the warlike demi-gods of legend who the Venerable One claimed were the staunchest of allies and the fiercest of foes, but you never knew which one they would prove to be until battle was joined.

  To make matters worse, Jinfeng could not in good conscience claim that the Firstborn was being maligned, as a part of her suspected there was more than a nugget of truth at the core of the rumours printed in so many foreign newspapers. Perhaps he was not being willfully malicious in his actions, but he walked a line of fierce individuality and violent tendency that made him unpalatable to the people of the Republic. Might made right, but only in service to the Republic, whereas the Firstborn seemed beholden only to the almighty American dollar.

  At least now his ire was directed at the Nipponese, a people the Republic held no good will towards. The rivalry between their two nations spanned more than a thousand years, back to when the Venerable One graciously spared the Nippon Devils from conquest and allowed them to govern themselves on their resource poor island of beggars and fishermen. His mission had been to prepare the Middle Realms for the war against the Great Devourer after all, a war which had already begun with the invasion of the Yao Guai, and still humanity remained divided. Better if he had conquered the Nippon Devils and scoured them from existence, for they proved a thorn in his side for centuries after his Disciple, the traitorous Nippon dog emperor, rose to power and became an Immortal Monarch himself, one who ultimately struck the final blow that killed the Venerable One and doomed the Middle Realms once and for all.

  For this and the many crimes the Nippon Devils committed during the two Great Wars, the people of the Republic had little love for their island neighbours, and the feeling was mutual. They’d clashed many times on the Frontier, and while Republic raids on Federal lands had declined significantly after Prince Gong’s blunder raised tensions even higher, they had not stopped outright. The Republic had to keep up appearances after all, as they’d claimed that the attacks were being made by rogue elements and deserters, so they could hardly maintain that lie if attacks stopped entirely at the Republic’s command.

  For this reason, their raiders had clashed against the Nipponese many times in recent weeks, as they served as the Federation’s dogs to guard their territory. It was during these attacks where the people of the Republic learned of the existence of this fierce Ranger-trained renzhe who stood across from them now. The girl went by Kacey, but the name on file was Jifeng Xia if read in Qinese, though it was most certainly pronounced different in Nipponese. Given the similarities of their names, ages, and formidable reputations, the Republic had been all abuzz with talk of how the Nippon Devil Jifeng compared to their Second Sister Jinfeng.

  Not in skill or ability, but beauty and poise, which was infuriating for a variety of reasons. Most of all because Jinfeng had the utmost confidence in her abilities and not so much in her appearance, especially not compared to her Nipponese counterpart. Even dressed in cargo pants and a tan shirt, the girl was maddeningly beautiful, with fair, flawless skin and silken brown hair that shimmered in the morning sunlight. Her rounded cheeks and gentle jawline combined with her heart shaped face gave her an elegant and delicate appearance, one that wasn’t ruined but rather enhanced by her furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Even narrowed in focus, her almond-shaped eyes were piercing and expressive as calm determination emanated off of her in waves while she stood with arms folded in a relaxed but alert manner, with the only sign of her growing impatience being the subtle pout of her full yet subtle lips.

  Add to this her toned, athletic body that remained dainty and feminine, and Jinfeng feared that she herself could not compare. Not with her sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders, tree-trunk legs, and modest chest, with the latter two being a newfangled insecurity introduced by the Firstborn. Who was the source of Jinfeng’s frustration and Kacey’s too, as they stood across from one another in the training hall while pretending not to study the other amidst the crowd of onlookers gathered for a show.

  A duel in fact, one between Kacey and the Firstborn himself. For which he was late, and uncharacteristically so at that, with whispers from the bystanders jeering about how the fabled Firstborn was too scared to fight ‘a little lady’. Fools one and all, for there stood a warrior and renzhe, one trained in the Nipponese arts of infiltration and assassination among many others. In spite of her dainty stature and refined appearance, this Kacey was a formidable swordswoman, one many returning raiders claimed was at least equal to Ao Tian even though she fought in a vastly different manner. If that’s all there was to her skills, then Jinfeng was wholly confident she could defeat the other woman in combat, whether it be in a formal duel or on the field of combat. That was what she trained for, overcoming her foes in close-quarters utilizing soft techniques against hard, and skill and style mattered little against the Way of the Open Hand. Unfortunately, she was not the one who’d been challenged, and for all of the Firstborn’s skills, hand-to-hand combat was not chief among them.

  That said, late or not, there was no doubt in Jinfeng’s mind that the Firstborn would appear soon enough, as he was not one to run from a challenge. Twist it to his advantage perhaps, or overturn the table to play his own game, but run? Never. His tardiness was likely a message that he cared not for the challenge, challenger, or perhaps even the Nippon Devils as a whole, a message that would win him much praise once word of it returned to Fuyuan.

  Assuming he won of course, or at the very least overcame the trials and tribulations before him without losing face for the Republic. That was key, because the Firstborn’s loss would be a loss for the Vanguard as a whole, and doubly so for the General who touted his nephew so highly this last year. Then again, a loss might well drive the Firstborn to return to the fold, as it would show that he could not get by on hard work and talent alone. While he had perseverance and determination aplenty, a proper teacher could guide his steps to the path he desired, instead of blindly stumbling forward in the darkness as he did now. The papers had clearly stated that the Firstborn’s Mentor, the celebrated Marshal Theodore Ellies, had all but abandoned his ward, a betrayal that no doubt pained Hao Wei greatly. A Mentor for a day was a father for life, and the fabled Marshal was even more than that considering how he’d Mentored the Firstborn’s father too.

  And still the Firstborn would rather struggle and suffer on his own rather than return to seek his rightful place among his people. Not without reason, as the death of his father and Prince Gong’s attempt on his life was good reason to balk, so Jinfeng could only hope that the Firstborn would lose, but not so badly as to lose all face. That would be the best outcome for all, since it would give her an opening to make peace as if from new beginnings, and perhaps reconcile Hao Wei’s relationship with the General or even the Republic as a whole.

  Especially now that he’d had time to Attune with the Arcane Grimoire and seen the vast treasure trove of knowledge contained inside…

  Of course, this was not so much a plan as a hope, and a thin one at that as the Firstborn strode into the walled training yard with barely a care in the world. His heavy boots stomped across the paving stones in a slow and sedate gait, dressed as per usual in his big hat and oversized jacket, one that concealed a great many guns underneath and was as good for keeping him warm as it was at warding off the morning heat. There was not a drop of sweat atop his brow as he moved through the crowd, one which parted for him like prey scattering before a predator’s gaze as he took in everything all at once. Herself included, with only a minor flash of surprise before ignoring her and her cadre completely. There was a presence to his demeanour that commanded attention, which was odd considering his laid-back appearance. His shoulders were slack and his posture slumped as he strode in with Chrissy on his arm, looking calm and collected with her oversized straw hat and dark sunglasses on. Tina was close behind, wearing a hat similar to the Firstborn’s, while bringing up the rear was a slender, dark-haired tomboy with a cheap and ragged hat to hide her porcelain white skin.

  The newcomer was a skittish one, looking this way and that, but readied for a fight, so Jinfeng marked this one as a threat to be wary of. Not because of any display of skill, but because of the look in her dark eyes, ones that darted about to betray her anxiety even while her slender hands were still as could be as they hung close to the revolvers strapped to her belt. Wary, but not afraid, combined with a readiness to do violence in the blink of an eye. This was the demeanour of one baptized in blood, one who had killed often and would do so again, so even if she were entirely without skill, this pale, dark-haired stranger would not need much skill to put a Bolt through your chest.

  Nor would she be without skill, not if she was a new addition to the Firstborn’s perverse harem. After all his talk of Jinfeng’s meagre chest too, which only went to show what a womanizing hypocrite he really was. At least he treated Chrissy well, squeezing her hand and reassuring her as she shrank back before the watching crowd. Jinfeng, Hú Dié, and nine other Novices were here to observe, while the Nippon Devils had brought a similar number of onlookers. Not all youths, as they lacked the numbers and had to bring three older Nipponese dogs to make up the difference. Aside from them, there were a good number of other foreigners waiting in the wings, though she was only able to identify a handful.

  First was her neighbour and the only other group on this side of the hall, one lead by a Mexican youth whose name escaped her. She only knew he was important because he had been present when the Governor had introduced himself and his party to Elder Zhang Zun, though the boy was of no relation to the Governor himself. The Mexicans were in contention with the Nipponese Government over a land dispute, and thus firmly set against anything that might benefit their foes, which was why the Mexican youth had stationed himself and his bodyguards alongside Jinfeng’s party. With him were a number of Mexican or South American youths, but none of any real consequence, nor were they indicative of UNASUR or the Mexican Government’s stance on the matter, as there were even more such youths on the other side. There were a smattering of European youths over there too, some pale and others bronzed, while still more were somewhere in between but somehow considered white nonetheless. Those would be the Irish, Macedonians, and the Prussians if she were to guess, though they could also be random onlookers with connections enough to secure a seat in the audience for this duel. One the Nipponese worked hard to ensure that everyone would hear about it, including a delegation of reporters standing off to the side and narrating into their recording devices while watching events unfold.

  Not that there was much to say, as the Firstborn glanced around the room to take it all in, then fixed his attention on the reporters, who took that as permission to approach and unleash their readied barrage of questions. To which he replied with stony silence and a raised eyebrow, while Chrissy slipped away to escape, and only then did the flighty girl notice Jinfeng. Her reaction was adorable to behold as she skipped over in haste, looking so cold and imposing in her sunglasses that several members of her cadre tensed to see the powerful Yichang bearing down upon them with speed. Signalling for her people to stand down, Jinfeng stepped forward to receive the silver-haired girl with a smile. “Hi Jinfeng,” the sweet girl said, reaching out take her hands just to feel the warmth of her touch.

  And to be certain Jinfeng was real, as opposed to a trick of the mind perhaps. Such were the thoughts of one whose mind drifted between two worlds. “Hello Chrissy,” she replied with a smile, as she was heartened to see the other girl was present enough to notice a familiar face in the crowd. “Have you been well?”

  “Mhm.” Nodding emphatically while tentatively slipping her arm into Jinfeng’s, Chrissy moved to stand beside her and said, “Saved Howie.”

  “Oh, did you now? How did you do that?”

  The first question was easily answered with a nod, but Chrissy struggled with the second. Unable to put her thoughts into words, she freed one hand to deliver a flurry of hand signs and narrate her adventures with the Firstborn in the Deadlands. Jinfeng was amazed by how far the other girl had come in so short a time, as five months ago, she was barely communicating and needed to be directly questioned with yes or no questions in order to get any sort of information out of her, but now she was singing like a thunderlark in heat. Using Arcane Sign Language of course, so it was nowhere near as loud and distracting, but it showed just how much intelligence and potential was hiding beneath Chrissy’s otherwise vacant gaze.

  Try as she might to pay heed to the torrent of information from Chrissy, Jinfeng was distracted by the few journalists watching their interaction like a dustfang on the scent, salivating over speculation as to what this interaction between the Firstborn’s ‘sister’ and a Qinese Officer Cadet might mean. Which just showed that these journalists knew nothing about the Firstborn or the Republic, and could not be trusted to write a well-informed, unbiased article, hence why his responses to them were short, succinct, and of no value whatsoever. Mostly questions in return, asking to see their credentials and the name of the paper they worked for as well as past articles they’d written that he might have read. He was playing with them of course, whereas a wiser man would use this opportunity to win favour with the masses, a game the General had long since mastered, but the Firstborn knew not how to play.

  Or cared not, given his complete and utter disregard for face and reputation. No matter though, for actions spoke much louder than words, and in this, Jinfeng was certain the Firstborn would not disappoint.

  So distracted, Jinfeng almost missed a crucial point in Chrissy’s tale, so she brought her hand up to clarify. “What do you mean you used the magic to save Howie?” she asked, her fingers moving slowly for lack of recent practice, while her eyes watched the crowd for signs of recognition. Arcane Sign Language was a global language that only differed slightly in regional dialect, but it was not so common that many knew it. Regular, mundane sign language was still more commonly used, as Arcane Sign Language had been developed with the intent of helping Yicheng who lived with one mind betwixt two worlds like Chrissy.

  Even Hú Dié, the most powerful Innate in Jinfeng’s cadre, didn’t know Arcane Sign Language, and it seemed like none of the reporters did either. As such, none of the few watching caught what Chrissy signed earlier or her reply. “Howie get shot, hurt very bad,” Chrissy signed, her fingers flashing so quickly that Jinfeng imagined the girl speaking without stopping for breath. “Magic say Astrid cannot help Howie, but Chrissy can. Ask how, it show, but not good, so Chrissy clean Magic. Make it save the Howie. Only save, no more. All good.”

  “The magic spoke to you?”

  Chrissy nodded, then shook her head, leaving Jinfeng to school her expression as she parsed through this information. Considering the source, she could not be even remotely certain, but she worried that Chrissy might well have fallen prey to the machinations of an evil spirit, or a Mimic as the westerners called it. The Soulless were a cunning and deceitful bunch after all, and Chrissy’s mind an unguarded palace ripe for the taking. Now was not the time to interrogate the girl however, not here in public, and Jinfeng didn’t even know what she was supposed to look for. If only Sifu Zhang had come along on this trip, then she could bring Chrissy to him to consult the omens and review the Classics of Changes for signs of the Great Enemy’s influence.

  Alas, he was busy with the war against the Yao Guai emerging from the Badlands, having taken over for Elder Li Tie who had been dispatched for these talks here. In her heart of hearts however, Jinfeng was almost glad her Sifu was not here, for she feared what he might find. The Firstborn had been shot after all, and it was known that the Soulless could mend their hosts if need be. Perhaps it was already too late and the Hao Wei she’d met just this past winter was dead and gone, leaving only a husk of the man he once was being puppeteered by an alien presence that had long since devoured his soul.

  “Well done Chrissy,” Jinfeng signed, once again scanning the crowd, but this time in search of cameras that might be recording their interaction. Arcane Sign Language would not show, as their Illusions were craftings of the mind as opposed to light, and the finger movements were not as precise as the mundane version of the language, but even then she would not risk a recording of this conversation. Thankfully, the reporters had all brought larger cameras that had to be carried on one’s shoulders, or in this case, mounted on tripods at one end of the room and pointed at the Firstborn as opposed to Jinfeng and Chrissy. So she felt safe to tell the other girl, “Never share what you just told me with anyone else.” Hoping to impress the severity of the issue on the sweet and poorly educated Yichang, Jinfeng added, “It could be dangerous. For you, for Howie, for your family.”

  “Secret?” Chrissy asked, visibly perking up at the prospect, so Jinfeng locked eyes and nodded as solemnly as she could despite staring at a reflection of herself in the other girl’s sunglasses. “Okay, Jinfeng,” Chrissy replied, before catching sight of the scowling dark-haired girl waving her over while warily watching Jinfeng. Pointing at the other girl, Chrissy signed, “Secret. Don’t tell Howie Sasha is girl. Is game. I go now. Bye bye.”

  “Goodbye.” Unable to wrap her mind around how it was even possible the Firstborn didn’t know Sasha was a girl, or why it needed to remain secret, Jinfeng put it out of mind to focus on the issue at hand. If the Firstborn and Chrissy were well and truly infected, then he could still be saved, and the earlier he was helped, the easier it would be. Unfortunately, two to three months had already passed depending on when the infection began, and the number of people they’d interacted with since would be far too many to help. What’s more, even if he were not infected, it would be difficult to convince the Firstborn to seek any help whatsoever, much less help from his own people who he held a grudge against.

  So… Jinfeng could either bring word to Sifu Zhang, who would be duty-bound to report her concerns up the chain of command, a report that would be seen by the entire Council of Elders. Or she could keep silent and try to convince the Firstborn to accept help in a clandestine fashion. Failing that, she would be left with the decision of leaving him be to either fight off the Mimic’s influence himself until it starved and died, or become a blight in the heart of Federal territory and strike a blow at one of the Republic’s greatest competitors. At the cost of the General’s only living kin on the Frontier, a cost that might well be too great to bear, for the Republic was its people, but still needed its leaders to guide the way, and none were more effective than Great General Zhu Yuanzhang.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  By now, the reporters had long since realized the Firstborn had no intentions of saying anything worth writing about, and even the most dogged among them was ready to give up. So they put up little fight as the Firstborn shooed them aside and moved forward to step onto the sparring ground, only to stop with one foot raised over the pressed straw mat. Seeing his opponent waiting bare foot, he stepped back and crouched down to undo his laces and remove his boots before continuing forward. Awfully polite in the strangest ways, but no one said anything about it as they all waited in silence to see what he would do next. He did not divest himself of his duster, hat, or any of the guns or blades hanging on his belt as he sauntered over to face Kacey in the middle of the floor, with the crowd and reporters all standing on the sidelines to leave them plenty of room for their duel.

  “Soooo,” the Firstborn drawled, in that lazy and infuriating manner of his while greeting his opponent with a polite nod. “Here we are.” The Nippon Devil didn’t respond, but she did uncross her arms and stand a little straighter as the Firstborn opened up his duster and slowly pulled a piece of paper out of the breast pocket using only two fingers. “Was gonna sleep in and ignore all this,” he continued, nodding over at his blonde paramour, “But Tina said that’d be rude seein’ how you went to all the effort of delivering a handwritten note and all.” Kacey’s cheeks reddened and her brow furrowed in a glare as the crowd chuckled at the joke, and yet somehow the woman was still beautiful as could be. As for the Firstborn, he flashed a grin like he was proud to receive her ire, one that made him look so much younger than his years. It lasted all of a heartbeat before his features went back to the cold, neutral, and almost bored affection as he asked, “Now what? You gut me with that pig-sticker and send me home?”

  “I offer this challenge not to take your life,” Kacey replied, speaking in clipped and formal tones. “Only to reclaim my honour, and the honour of my betrothed, Minamoto Akihisa.” Which was read as Yuán Zhāojiǔ in Qinese, and showed just how far the Nipponese language had degradged since the Venerable One taught those scattered barbarians how to read and write. The name Minamoto was an old one however, belonging to a family of stewards and ministers who served their Dog Emperor for ten generations at the very least, with this branch of the family serving as Daikan on the Frontier. On the other hand, there were no records of the Xia family name belonging to this Kacey, meaning it was either made up to hide her true identity as a renzhe serving the Daikan’s family, or the Minamoto scion was a toad lusting after swan’s flesh similar to Prince Gong.

  “Your honour, I sorta understand,” the Firstborn said, pointedly looking around at the crowd as if searching for a face, “Not really, but I get it. His honour though? If he so concerned about it, then why ain’t he here to fight for himself? You, I don’t care much to tangle with, but get him on this mat and I’ll slap him silly six ways from Sunday before kicking his teeth in.”

  “The fabled Firstborn,” someone declared, a young, swarthy European of some sort standing across the way, though he could have been a mixed-blooded South American. Difficult to tell since he spoke without an accent and jeered, “Afraid of a girl? I suppose the stories were just that. Stories.”

  The Firstborn scoffed in reply and fixed his glare on the speaker, and even from a distance, Jinfeng could see the boy break out into a cold sweat. “Scared? Of course I am. You’d be too if you had half a brain. I seen Kacey here carve a Bugbear in two swings flat, all snicker-snack and it dropped dead. Me, I ain’t nowhere near as strong or tough as no Bugbear, so I doubt she’d need even half a swing to take me down. Besides, not only am I scared, I also don’t much care for fightin’ someone I count as a friend. Got precious few of those, so can’t be riskin’ them in brawls, now can I? You though? I’m more than happy to fight you. If I gotta duel Kacey, then I’ll need to warm up beforehand, so how ‘bout you bring that pretty little knife you got on your belt over here so I can take it from you and slap you round a bit? I’ll be gentle enough to let you walk away. Promise.”

  The swarthy boy swallowed hard, then rallied his courage under the false assumption that the Firstborn wouldn’t dare. “You think you can threaten me? I’ll have you know, my father is – ”

  “Don’t care. Didn’t ask.” Delivered with all the intensity of a Bolt from his guns, the Firstborn’s lazy, almost playful demeanour had disappeared in a flash, and in his place was the Bloody Four-Armed Asura. The Yellow Devil as the Westerners called him, a killer through and through, one standing with hands folded in front of him and ready to draw. Where Sasha was ready to fight and kill, the Firstborn was eager for it, so eager that even a child like the one he faced could sense his overwhelming Killing Intent. “First and final warning. Step up, or shut up.”

  Miracle of miracles, the swarthy child stepped back and fell silent, as did the rest of the crowd. The Firstborn glared at them all for a few seconds longer before relaxing to speak with Kacey again. “Where were we?” He asked, even though he knew exactly where they left off. “Right. Reclaimin’ your honour. How’s that supposed to go then?”

  “We duel until one yields or can no longer continue,” Kacey replied. “Blunted weapons only, though swords have no eyes. Upon victory or defeat, the matter is closed, and honour satisfied, unless you refuse to fight, at which point I would be forced to take more drastic measures.”

  It seemed this Kacey knew the Firstborn quite well, having anticipated his reaction, nor did it seem like she cared much for this duel at all. Like her hand had been forced, and this fight foisted upon her, but she would do her best to win and wanted the Firstborn to do the same. In all likelihood, this disagreement had come about because the womanizer of a Firstborn had set his eyes on Kacey and infuriated the Prime Minister’s son, and now he was furious with his betrothed and the Firstborn both. As such, this duel was very much about Kacey’s honour, as regardless of her victory or defeat, it would show her determination to rebuff Hao Wei’s unwanted advances in a very public manner.

  Regardless of the reason for this duel, Jinfeng decided it was time to support the Firstborn as she’d come to do. “As challenged, you have the choice of weapons,” she declared, leaving the rest unsaid, but he knew enough to figure out the rest himself. In a clash of blades, he did not stand much of a chance, but he could choose Spells, Will, or Artifacts and crush his opponent in a heartbeat. Even Jinfeng herself wasn’t confident she could defeat him in any of those three categories, least of all Artifacts, not after seeing the scout Qian’s recording of the Firstborn’s fight against the Yao Guai and their epic and harrowing escape from the Badlands.

  A recording that had won the Firstborn many accolades and the title of the Bloody Four-Armed Asura, accolades he then proceeded to toss away by disgracing himself in the Deadlands. Truly a fool, one who refused to acknowledge Jinfeng’s statement. He didn’t even twitch his head for a glance back, but Kacey nodded in response. “She speaks true,” the girl said, “As I also said when I offered you this challenge so that we might speak with swords or whatever weapon of your choice.”

  With the Firstborn’s monosyllabic prompting, she explained the available choices, and while he did not leap upon the obvious one of Artifacts, he asked, “How we supposed to duel with Spells without killin’ each other? Mercy Metamagic might stop a Spell from killing outright, but that won’t matter if you burned to a crisp and die of infection.”

  “With the use of protective gear,” Kacey replied. “Or self-imposed limitations. If I may make a suggestion?” The Firstborn nodded, so the girl continued, “We conduct our duel in the traditional Qinese style.” Jinfeng straightened up in alarm, but she could not think of a way to refute that would not shame the Firstborn or the Republic.

  So of course, the Firstborn did that himself by revealing his ignorance to ask, “And how’s that go?”

  Expecting his ignorance, Kacey explained, “With weapon and Spell, limiting the former to close combat and the latter to three self-cast, self-targeted options. You must pick a second and provide them with a list of Spells, after which your second will discuss the matter with mine until an agreement is reached on what Spells can be used. Then our seconds will inspect our weapons, both yours and mine to ensure they are properly blunted. Following this, you and I will take turns casting our Spells upon ourselves one at a time, and then do battle with blade and fist until one can no longer continue.”

  “Sure,” the Firstborn replied, without so much as a thought in the world even though he just stepped in the other woman’s trap. Stupid, arrogant, cocksure man thinking with the wrong head, and were it not for the fact that his loss would mean a loss of face for the Republic and the General alike, Jinfeng would be more than happy to stand back and watch the renzhe carve a flurry of new scars into his chest. Or perhaps do even worse, as the duel was not to first blood, but until one yielded, so she could hardly be blamed for cutting a vital tendon or six with her blunted blade before he surrendered.

  So Jinfeng did the only thing she could do, and stepped forward to announce, “It would be this lowly Officer Cadet’s honour to serve as the Firstborn’s second.”

  Again, he didn’t acknowledge her, and let the silence hang in the air long enough to make it known that he was doing so on purpose. Then he turned to glance at his companions and said, “How ‘bout it Tina? You be my huckleberry?”

  “You even gotta ask?” Tina replied, bouncing in place all excited as could be. Another gorgeous woman whose appearance was deceptively disarming, as Jinfeng had also heard of her mastery of Illusions, to say nothing of how formidable her gorgeous mother was with her massive, realistic Illusions capable of killing Yao Guai with a touch. A feat even the General was unsure how to explain, as Qian’s video recording showed only the insectoid Yao Guai screeching in challenge at an unseen enemy before dropping over dead without a scratch.

  “She’s got my list,” the Firstborn said, after waggling his fingers and silently mouthing something only Tina could hear.

  “As does my second,” Kacey replied, and then stood there as the Firstborn removed his heavy duster and handed it to Sasha before undoing his gun belts with 6 guns and far too many pouches on them. He was only halfway through disarming himself and pulling a knife out of his boot when Tina returned from speaking with the Nipponese second outside, having been gone for less than a minute’s time with the latter looking rather perplexed. Neither one said anything however, only nodded to indicate an agreement had been reached on what Spells were used. They said nothing regarding what those Spells were however, as part of the challenge was identifying what your foe’s Spell might be. It was all part of the spectacle, as these standards had been set by the Venerable One himself, a means to display his prowess in magic and skill in combat to a conquered foe. These duels had been implemented in a time when Magic was not yet widespread, so seeing the Venerable One stand before his foes with hands folded behind his back as his spectral Shield blocked every blow or moved about quicker than the eye could follow thanks to Haste was a means to convey his power to an audience who had no means to understand the concept of a Fireball or Call Lightning.

  In these modern times however, there was less reason to use these rules, as there were only so many Spells one could use in a duel such as this. Especially when most self-cast, self-targeted, defensive Spells required Concentration, limiting each combatant to only one. At the end of it all, the better fighter still held the upper hand so long as they had a basic grasp of Spellcasting, because a dedicated Spellcaster was still a novice in close combat and no amount of Spells would change that.

  Well… one Spell could, developed by an Immortal Monarch of no small repute, the Persian Immortal Monarch who rose up to challenge the Venerable One in the early 1200’s. Despite being little more than a scholar who went on to master the Magical Arts, he was a brilliant Arcanist who re-discovered a series of ancient Rituals designed to temporarily endow oneself with a warrior’s prowess and turned it into a Sixth Order Spell. The Hero-King’s Investiture, he called it, and the Spell bestowed the caster with increased strength, toughness, and the ability to utilize all manner of weapons with an expert’s skill. Using this Spell, he fought the Venerable One for ten days and ten nights before collapsing from exhaustion, and as a show of respect to this most formidable of opponents, the Venerable One spared his people and left the Persians to rule themselves.

  Only for them to instantly fall to infighting and pressure from the nomadic Mongol hordes, a descent from which the Persian Empire never recovered.

  Of course, being a Sixth Order Spell meant it was not available to the Firstborn, meaning he would likely be defeated in short order. Faster than it took him to remove all his things, including an expensive wristwatch and his simplistic bead bracelet, alongside several other items of note. It left him in sturdy jeans and a tucked in button-up shirt, an outfit that left him looking neat and tidy but was hardly optimal for close combat. Nor did he take long to decide on his weapons, which hardly inspired confidence, choosing to use a padded battle-axe provided by the facilities and a worn wooden belt knife he brought himself. As for Kacey, she had brought her own blunted swords, a paired wakizashi and tanto that Tina looked over for all of two seconds before presenting them to Kacey. “Good luck girlie,” Tina said with a smile, and from the looks of things, she even meant it. “You gonna need it.” Then she skipped off to the side without so much as a word to the Firstborn, and Jinfeng was amazed by the blonde Yicheng’s unwavering faith in her lover.

  “As challenged, you may choose to go first or second,” Kacey declared, and the Firstborn shrugged in response.

  “Already got Mage Armour on,” he said, tapping his chest with his wooden dagger, blatantly giving away his chosen Spell and the fact that he chose a fairly worthless Spell. There were much better alternatives when limited to only three Spells, but he had no experience in this sort of exchange and apparently chose his first out of convenience.

  Kacey was visibly displeased as she shot a dark glare at her second, for she had gone to all the effort to arrange this duel and did not want any aspersions cast upon her victory. The second shrugged and said, “She was very insistent, and had no alternatives to offer even when I graciously suggested she speak with the Firstborn again.”

  “It’s fine,” the Firstborn said, tapping a foot in impatience. “Let’s get this over and done with. You arranged for this duel at dawn, but the hotel kitchen wasn’t open, so I’m workin’ up a mighty hunger.” Playing the fool would do him no good, not with the crowd and most certainly not with Kacey, who fixed him with a glare which he pretended not to see. Rather than argue however, the girl cast her first Spell, one that was all too easily identified by the effect. Aether shimmered and condensed around her petite frame to form a set of black armour, a sleek and formfitting attire that looked and moved like hard leather but would have the durability of hard steel. The armour was complete with a rounded helmet and fox-eared mask in the Nipponese style, as well as a breastplate, segmented shoulder pads, arm guards, knee pads, and shin guards, as well as a sturdy pair of armoured boots that were weapons unto themselves.

  Conjure Armour, one of many Spells superior to Mage Armour, and one Hao Wei himself had no small amount of skill with. Fool.

  “You really love foxes, don’t you?” the Firstborn asked, studying the girl with an interest that was not entirely academic. “My turn now I guess.” Holding up his gloved right hand and the axe held within, he made no chant, but wiggled his fingers a little bit. That was all there was, and Jinfeng thought he was playing the fool again until she remembered that he’d lost his right hand and was wearing a prosthetic. “Done,” he said, giving the axe a little flourish before twirling it about between his fingers, once again giving away what Spell he’d used. Some version of Mage Hand to make up for the loss of his limb, which hardly seemed fair all things considered.

  Kacey appeared to agree, as her voice sounded from behind her mask. “That Spell does not count,” she declared. “Pick another.”

  “Nah,” the Firstborn replied, flipping his axe about to hold it up in reverse grip. “It’s a nasty Spell it is,” he said, pressing his thumb into the bottom of the wooden haft of the practice weapon and leaving a visible dent behind without effort. “Could snap those metal swords of yours like a twig if I get a hand on them, so don’t let it happen.”

  Her honour properly satisfied, Kacey nodded and moved on to cast her second Spell, one that took longer to cast than most. Perhaps she was less practiced with the Spell, or perhaps it was one that benefitted from extra attention to detail, but when she finished, the effect was instantaneous and also easily identified. Though still visible before the crowd, Kacey’s presence quickly faded and grew muted, the colours softening and growing obscure as if you were looking at her through a fogged lens. The Second Order Blur Spell would hide her movements and make it more difficult for the Firstborn to react to them, and maybe even throw off his aim when attempting to strike her. A frustrating Spell to go up against, as most Illusion Spells were, but the Firstborn lived with three masters of Illusions so he might well have plenty of experience against it.

  Then it came time for his third Spell, and he didn’t even try to be clever about it. At least it was a useful Spell, calling forth a spectral Shield to defend himself with, one that was perfectly round and about as long as his forearm to allow for maximum comfort and range of movement. Which made sense if the Shield was strapped to his arm, but this was a Spell, so the Shield anchored to wherever the Firstborn pleased, and he chose to anchor it directly in front of him to guard his upper body. Out of sheer habit most likely, as that configuration allowed him to face his targets and shoot under the Shield while remaining mostly protected from their return fire, but that would be of little use if Kacey broke his knee in the first exchange.

  Taking a deep breath to steady her irritation over her opponent’s lack of reverence, Kacey glared at the Firstborn from behind her face mask, and again, he pretended not to notice. He was all but handing her the victory here, having used two First Order Spells and one modified Cantrip, whereas Kacey had already used a First Order Spell and a Second Order Spell. As for her third and final Spell, it also took quite some time for the girl to cast, but nothing in her movements gave away what Spell it might be. When she finished, she exhaled slowly before opening her eyes and explaining, “I have readied my final Spell, and will unleash it when our match begins.”

  Which was a clue, namely that the Spell would not last long and she wanted to make full use of its short duration, but the Firstborn either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Gotcha,” he said, bringing his axe up to touch his forehead in a casual salute. “Ready when you are.”

  Kacey looked as if she were about to say something, but then exhaled and said, “Then let us begin.” With that, she burst into action and surged across the mat at speeds greater than even Jinfeng could match, and just like that, they all knew her third Spell was Haste. A third Order Spell that required Concentration and bestowed its target with alacrity of mind and body both, the crafty Nipponese dog had played her cards well while the Firstborn played without care or thought. The outcome was decided before the duel even began, so Jinfeng pursed her lips, crossed her arms, and settled in to watch the spectacle of the Firstborn getting beaten bloody.

  Just because she was upset over the loss of face for the Republic didn’t mean she couldn’t take pleasure in Hao Wei’s comeuppance.

  The first strike looked primed to end the match as Kacey’s longer wakizashi swept out in a low arc to strike at the Firstborn’s bare feet, but fast as she was, he was even faster as he danced away. No, not faster, just cannier as he’d started moving the moment she started the fight. Did he recognize her Spell as she cast it? Or know she had use of it? Was it merely a guess, or had he been informed in advance by his second or maybe even Kacey herself? Difficult to say, but the Firstborn was well prepared to deal with his Hasted foe, because even as he leapt back and away from his Blurred foe, he left his Shield behind to block her path. Not the swords, as he stood much too far for them to reach, but rather the girl herself, slamming the Shield into her face mask with little more than a thought and keeping it pressed against her to impede her movements.

  Which was wholly unexpected by anyone in the crowd, Jinfeng included. It also worked surprisingly well, though she doubted there were many who could use the same tactic. This required a degree of control over the spectral Shield that few could manage, one that shared the same roots as Hao Wei’s mastery over his Mage Hands no doubt. As noted before, a Spellcaster could anchor their shield wherever they please, but the wrist and shoulder were the most common points because then they could maneuver the Shield in place using their body. In contrast, the Firstborn’s Shield floated and bobbed about in the air as if possessed with life of its own, with no need for Hao Wei to direct its movements with anything besides his mind.

  This was the telltale sign of a Trademark Spell, one the Caster was so familiar with he was able to do more than what others could accomplish. Before, The Firstborn was only known for his familiarity with Mage Hand, but after today, he would be known for his prowess with Shield as well. He utilized it like a third limb, not to outright club the armoured Kacey as she strove to approach, but to push and press against her before pulling away whenever she pushed back too hard. He wasn’t trying to knock her down; he was simply using the Shield to mark her position while keeping her off balance, which was the proper method of dealing with a Hasted opponent.

  The Spell granted increased Speed of mind and body both, but it was not so easy to acclimate to either boon. Impressive as the ability to cast the Third Order Spell might be, Kacey could not have all that much experience with it, not when she could only cast it three times a day and maintain the Spell for a minute each time. Even with her elders helping her along, how much time could she have spent using the Haste Spell? How long could she even maintain it beyond it’s one minute base duration? Metamagics were not allowed after all, so it was only a matter of time before her Haste Spell came to an end, leaving her drained, enervated, and helpless before the Firstborn.

  Who moved far better than Jinfeng would have expected from a man lacking in close combat training. Not experience however, as he moved as if he’d been fighting in melee for years now. He was graceful and nimble, but not in the manner of a trained warrior. No, his movements were akin to a predator, a hunter stalking his prey while remaining guarded against them as he held his weapons in a defensive stance and utilized his Shield to maximum effect. That wasn’t all however, as he feinted once, twice, then thrice in short order, causing Kacey to overreact each time as her body moved faster than her mind could keep up. Another failing of the Haste Spell, one that required use of Gift of Alacrity to overcome, but given the restraints of the duel, she had been forced to make to do without.

  Feeling the press of time against her, Kacey went all out against the Shield and struck it four ringing blows in the span of a second. While the Firstborn was able to keep it intact, he was unable to keep it from flying off to the side as Kacey charged forward with reckless abandon. Putting her faith in Blur and Conjured Armour to protect her, she readied to trade blows with the Firstborn and hoped to come out ahead, except once again, he was ready for her gambit. An arcing swing would have caught her in the side of the head had she not pulled back to dodge, followed by a feinted counter offensive that he abandoned to dart back and avoid the flurry of attacks sent his way. As he retreated, he mixed in more attacks and feints as he went, and even landed an unexpected thrust right on her armoured eyes. The wooden blade set the metallic face mask to chiming as he struck a fierce blow and stepped away, eliciting a gasp from most of the crowd and even a few sounds of admiration from Jinfeng’s side.

  And then the Firstborn was gone, having put a sizable distance between him and his opponent as well as retrieving his Shield which floated over to hover in between them.

  This was not the same man Jinfeng had met in the Badlands. She’d tested him then and judged him sorely lacking, but apparently he had felt the same and made improvements since. Nor could this be the work of a Mimic, for they understood little of skill and finesse aside from what was already in the minds and memories of the corpse puppets they inhabited. Unskilled Wights fought with muscle and ferocity, whereas Hao Wei was far from a master of the blade, but he knew enough to make his opponent work hard for a victory.

  A ploy that might work against a lesser opponent, but Kacey was not yet willing to give up. Instead, she threw herself at his Shield, and the Firstborn responded by matching hard with soft and letting the attacks batter the Shield about without offering any resistance at all. In doing so, he was able to keep it more or less in place, only to respond with a slam when her barrage of attacks stalled. Then he ran her about the mat, allowing her to close in thrice more only to slip away through a mixture of blocks, feints, and powerful attacks that failed to connect, while Kacey’s blunted swords never once even came close to touching so much as a single thread of his clothes.

  And so he fought right up until Kacey’s Haste ran out and the speedy renzhe came to a standstil. There she stood heaving and panting with blades at the ready, but anyone with eyes could see that the Firstborn could just stand back until she lacked the energy to hold her weapons any longer. Even remaining upright was taking a toll on the girl as the Spell drained away and left her fatigued after a mere minute and a half of fighting.

  As for the Firstborn? He had yet to break a sweat, with not a single strand of his artfully tousled hair sitting out of place. Loathe as she was to admit it, Jinfeng could not deny that the Firstborn made for a handsome and heroic figure, with his fresh cut hair that was neither too short nor too long, and just stylish enough to look as if it’d been carefully maintained to present a careless appearance. His shoulders had grown broader, and his frame more robust, while still lithe and slender in appearance with an edge that was liable to draw blood.

  One that was at odds with his uncharacteristic mercy, leading Jinfeng to believe he’d truly set his avaricious sights on his opponent.

  “Do you yield?” he asked, but Kacey did not respond. She simply stood in place with weapons at the ready, encased in her Conjured armour and Blur Spell, but visibly panting and sweating all the same. After three, long, silent seconds, the Firstborn burst into action and went on the offensive for the first time, and again, Jinfeng was forced to revise her estimation of him. His strikes were without subtlety or finesse, but he had no need for it as his opponent was as helpless as the trees he no doubt trained on. He raised his axe high, and brought it down in a slash that slammed into Kacey’s waiting guard to knock her arms aside. She recovered admirably and tried to retaliate, but his knife came up to lock her weapons in place with overpowering strength, strength he used to leverage both blades out his foe’s strengthless grip and send them hurtling aside.

  “Do you – ”

  Before he could finish asking, Kacey launched herself at him in a last-ditch effort to grapple him to the ground, but he simply slipped his Shield in between them and used it to shoulder rush his foe before she could get her feet under her, sending her sprawling back on the mat.

  “Do you yield?” he asked again, and there was a rage in his tone that spoke of his growing impatience. Again, Kacey did not reply, but she stirred from her place and tried to push herself back up with weapons in hand, only to be hit by the Shield again as he drove it into her face with his foot. Even with armour to protect her, the blow left her dazed and helpless as she struggled to get free, but he was without mercy as he bore down on Shield and pressed her flat against the ground. Undignified though it might seem, Kacey fought and struggled to get out from underneath, but the Firstborn showed no mercy as he went from standing on the Shield, to kneeling on it as he placed his wooden knife at her throat.

  With this, anyone with eyes could see that victory was his, but Kacey remained silent all the same. As for Hao Wei, he looked up at Kacey’s second, who had long since looked away with a disdainful sneer upon his face, for this was a matter of honour, and Kacey could not be allowed to walk away unless her honour was satisfied.

  Through victory or defeat, and not of the graceful, bloodless variety. Only with her blood could she prove to her betrothed that she had no interest in the Firstborn’s attentions, and for a moment, Jinfeng almost sympathized with the Nippon dog.

  Having no doubt come to the same conclusion, the Firstborn cast his weapons aside and cocked his fist back in rage. There was no hesitation as he brought it down in the same graceless manner he wielded his axe, and the impact struck with so much force Jinfeng thought he might well have killed Kacey with that attack. He most certainly would have had he not aimed to miss. Instead of her armoured head, he struck the padded mat beside her and made it explode in a wad of dried fibres and shattered the wooden floorboards underneath, a monumental feat that was most certainly more than mere strength. “Last chance,” he said, cocking his fist once more as if ready to kill her with his next blow. “Do you yield?”

  It took long seconds for Kacey to respond, and her admission of defeat came out as a broken whisper. “I yield,” she said, and then and only then did the Firstborn step away. But not to go back to his people or celebrate his victory. No, he headed straight towards Kacey’s second, and though Jinfeng could not see the Firstborn’s face, she could easily imagine the rage and bloodlust present from the second’s reaction to it. “You want blood?” the Four-Armed Asura asked with a snarl, “Then let’s see some of yours.”

  With that, he charged into the crowd with Shield and fist to beat the man bloody. The other Nippon Devils were slow to react, so the Second took a punch to the jaw and went down hard before the rest responded with rage and vigour aplenty. As one, they piled in to stop the Firstborn from stomping the man dead, only for the Four-Armed Asura to welcome all comers and dole out punches, kicks, and even a headbutt to anyone and everyone within reach, a flurry of fists and fury amidst a crowd of unworthy opponents.

  It took all of three seconds for the other side of the facilities to devolve into chaos, and less than that for Hú Dié to dash forward like a diminutive berserker howling into the fray. With her went the rest of Jinfeng’s cadre, their blood hot and spirits high after witnessing the Firstborn’s overwhelming victory, and in no mood to see their hero brought low through strength of numbers. Resisting the urge to rub her temples, Jinfeng heaved a sigh and thanked the Heavens no one had brought out their weapons just yet, then strode over to join in the melee and prayed Elder Li Tie could smooth things over after the Firstborn bloodied the sons and daughters of most the diplomats present in New Sonora.

  Unlikely, but one could still hope.

  You’re right. Absolutely, unequivocally, indisputably correct.