*Clang! Clang!*

The booming of metal echoed under the dark, oppressive sky.

Darius breathed heavily, fending off yet another furious onslaught, fighting to keep himself alive. He loathed the bastard swinging the rapier-like long-sword at him. The man was supposed to be a World Power, yet acted like a common backstabbing bitch.

Yesterday, after an excruciatingly long battle, Darius managed to slay a Blood-eye Basilisk. Everyone wondered why such a high Order Monster Beast had settled so close to the Human border, but they couldn’t come up with an explanation. Powerful Monster Beasts lived deeper in the Beast-lands, not on the fringes near the manling lands.

For the Empire of Human, the existence of that Basilisk was like a sword looming above their heads. Exterminating it was paramount. Otherwise, once the monster fully matured it would lay waste to the land of the humans. Darius, having recently become the Human Emperor, came to fulfill his duty and slay the beast.

With the drawn-out battle finally over, Darius could rest for no more than half an hour before a new threat to his life appeared. Before the self-made Emperor managed to fully recover, the most terrifying manling in the world ambushed him.

Lonely Eagle, the World Power Sword-Saint and protector of the Empire of Elf, suddenly appeared before him, making the existence of the Monster Beast look even more suspicious.

The tyrant of the Empire of Elf was overly slim, and stood a hundred and eighty centimeters tall. While this was quite tall for an elf, his height was nothing worth mentioning before the Human Emperor.

Darius was a mountain of a man. He towered over his enemy at two hundred and twenty centimeters in height, weighing well over four hundred kilos, almost all of which was pure muscle, with some fat on his belly.

Darius was a Body Refiner, which meant he practiced an art that had refined his flesh and bones into a living weapon. This granted him extraordinary strength and an absurd body weight. He easily wielded a massive two-handed falchion made out of a pitch-black adamantine alloy. The blade itself looked like a half-finished product, a sharpened hunk of blackness two meters in length that weighed more than a house.

How can such a flimsy little thing have such power? Our Sword-Saints can’t hold a candle to him! Darius’s mind still reeled in disbelief under the elf’s heavy blows.

He squinted his eyes, closely following Lonely Eagle’s silvery-blue blade. The mithril alloy weapon should’ve been lighter than a feather, yet each of Lonely Eagle’s strikes had the weight of a mountain.

Fucking dust, Darius cursed silently.

*Clang! Clang! Clang!*

With each collision of blades, shockwaves cracked the surrounding rocks, blowing more and more dust clouds into the air.

Stinging piece of shit! The dust doesn’t hinder him at all. Even those sissy robes of his don’t have a speck on them, Darius muttered silent curses while clenching his teeth in rage.

The dust pissed him off as much as the elf did. His eyes were full of fine sand, his mouth was full of fine sand, his nose was full of fine sand, even his ass was full of fine sand! But that freaking androgynous elven man just kept smiling condescendingly!

Darius wasn’t imagining it either. Despite Lonely Eagle’s elegant features, his cold eyes and mocking smirk revealed contempt for his opponent. Those cold, vicious eyes contrasted sharply with his beautiful, feminine face. They had a calculated, evil glint to them, tinged with the slightest hint of bloodthirsty madness. Despite the man’s noble appearance, those eyes betrayed him to be a deranged tyrant.

“Backstabbing coward! Is playing mind games and plotting behind someone’s back the only thing you know how to do?” Darius grunted as another blow sent him staggering back.

Even after a full day of fighting, he still couldn’t come to terms with such a flimsy manling having so much power behind his slashes and stabs. Back home, when he’d climbed to the top and conquered the Empire of Human with martial prowess, he’d battered the top Sword-Saints like they were little children.

Lonely Eagle, however, remained cool. He was just as unperturbed by Darius’s panting grunts as he was with his clumsy slashes. Given his experience, this battle was as good as won. He had been chipping away at his opponent’s stamina, focusing on exhausting the human and slowly strangling him.

It was much safer than going all out and killing him in a risky, explosive exchange. As far as Lonely Eagle was concerned, there was no need to break the stalemate. If things simply flowed naturally, the young Human Emperor would die, and yet another in the long line of potential threats to his dominance would disappear.

Still, he couldn’t help but respond to the poorly worded offense. Really, humans were such pitiful creatures.

“It’s only natural to eliminate threats early. Just look at yourself. Even you, a brain-dead branch of evolution, can see that. Why didn’t you allow that little Basilisk to grow for another decade or two and then attack?” Lonely Eagle taunted the hulk before him.

He couldn’t help but wonder how a man who called himself an Emperor could allow himself to be so damn inelegant. His clothes had burst to pieces after a couple probing blows. The human man didn’t have any Internal Energy to him, which meant he couldn’t form a barrier around himself. He couldn’t even protect his outward appearance, and maintaining a proper heroic image was half the job of actually being a hero. The other thing a proper hero needed was to be powerful. If you were powerful and dashing, nobody really cared about who you killed. They chalked the dead off as villains. Villains, just like this panting, sweat-covered mud-man before him.

Still, the human was dangerous, and tenacious. If Lonely Eagle had given him time to grow, this victory wouldn’t have been as certain. And fighting with a risk of defeat was something only defenders were forced to do. In all the centuries since rising to become the most powerful manling, Lonely Eagle had never been on the defensive. He always took what he wanted, and slew those who tried to stop him. Such was the way of the eternal victor.

Hours of the inhuman level of battle dragged on. The original contest of strength and skill devolved into one of endurance, which was fine as far as Lonely Eagle was concerned. The hairy monkey dancing awkwardly before him was just a footnote in history, a wasted chance for the humans to rise. A rise of any other race would mean decline for the elves. More importantly, it likely meant that Lonely Eagle would fall, which obviously couldn’t be allowed.

Slowly but steadily, Darius had gone completely on the defensive. He had become an extremely durable punching bag, a state that was but a short step away from being defeated and killed. From time to time, the human tried a desperate counterattack, but Lonely Eagle simply parried and didn’t follow through. Each opening was an obvious trap.

Despite his situation, Darius didn’t panic. Yes, his eyes shone with unwillingness and defiance. Yes, he was aware of his situation. But he wasn’t defeated. Not yet.

If things go on like this, I guess I’m dead meat. I’ve gotta do something, Darius’s mind raced.

The man didn’t fear death. Death was but a minor issue. The real problem was the psychopath he was battling. The elf would probably hunt down his entire tribe for having the potential to give birth to someone like him. Just thinking about his kin being slaughtered because of a madman’s paranoia caused the barbarian to tighten his grip on his saber and redouble his effort to stay alive.

“What’s up with that look, hairy ape?” Lonely Eagle laughed haughtily as he delivered a particularly strong blow. Speaking didn’t impede him in any way. Darius, on the other hand, couldn’t even breathe properly, let alone chat.

The only thing the human could do was grunt in response as the impossible weight of the slim sword pushed him back half a dozen meters.

How can he exert that much strength with such a flimsy blade? Why won’t it break?! Break! Break, damn you! Darius cursed and pleaded in his mind before bellowing a war cry of his tribe. He brandished the falchion with suicidal madness, charging straight at the Sword-Saint.

Even though he was fatigued, Darius put everything he had left into this blow. The strike would have killed a terrifying Monster Beast of the Thirtieth Order with ease. However, compared with the blows from when this battle had first begun, this lunge was but a sad joke.

The elf grinned. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Driving one’s opponent to make a final, desperate attack. One final gamble. And when gambling, the house always won. Almost always…

Lonely Eagle leisurely moved to parry.

Too impatient. Too boorish, and much too slow, you little simpleton. Your head is now… Just as these thoughts ran through Lonely Eagle’s mind, the hairs at the back of his neck stood up.

A sudden gust of wind caressed his skin. The wind itself didn’t seem to carry any strength, but it held an oddness… an otherworldly quality. For some reason, this simple breeze made the Sword-Saint’s spine run cold. His ears twitched as he reflexively scanned for danger.

Whatever this was, it was no wind. Straining his senses, Lonely Eagle thought he heard a barely audible, feminine sneeze in the distance.

The sudden gust really was as light as a breeze. And yet it had the weight to completely change the course of history. The exquisite, silvery long-sword cleanly snapped a thumb’s width away from its artistically carved hilt. What was left in the elf's grip was nothing more than a tiny stump of mithril.

Lonely Eagle’s eyes went wide. I personally forged this blade nine hundred years ago! I had two dozen Lonely grade True-Namers enchant it over the years! I fed it my blood for centuries, loved it more than my dearest disciple and my so-called successors. By all right this blade should be indestructible outside the Demon world. So, who did this? Who has such a level of power here?

Bitter thoughts flooded the elf’s mind, but then he noticed that the world around him had started spinning. He felt like he was a rag doll sent flying through the air. A couple steps away from him stood a slender, headless corpse dressed in a beautiful spidersilk warrior’s garb, the markings of a Lonely One. Lightly glowing vermillion blood fountained out of the severed neck, staining the exquisite blue robe and burning with Internal Energy.

As his consciousness rapidly faded, the man, once known as Lonely Eagle heard a torrent of curses from a furious male voice somewhere impossibly far away…

“You bitch! That’s cheating! How can you go so low as to…” the voice roared.

Who’s shouting that? was Lonely Eagle’s last thought as darkness swallowed the world around him.

***

The battle between manling overlords ended around noon. High above, on the Masterpiece’s sole moon, two men and a woman observed their duel. The trio sat on chairs made from pitch black Avarium, a metal so dark that it seemed to devour all light that touched it. They wore deep blue uniforms of the Heavenly Alliance Marines, each with the insignia of a Lieutenant Colonel emblazoned on their chests and shoulders.

“You bitch! That’s cheating! How can you go so low as to interfere with the bet! You… you flat out killed my nominee!” a silver-haired elf roared in outrage while glaring at the elderly human woman.

The woman was sweating and breathing heavily. Technically, there was nothing to breathe here, but some habits were difficult to get rid of. From her gestures, it was plain to see that she had greatly exerted herself mere moments ago. After taking a couple of deep, pointless breaths, the woman popped a grape-sized Energy Recovery pill into her mouth, instantly improving her condition.

“What are those beady little eyes of yours for, pointy ears?” she mocked. “I didn’t kill him. That silly little cousin of yours managed to lose his head all on his own. And even if, hypothetically, I did intervene in a minuscule way, how was I to know that that blade of his would break from a little sneeze of mine?” The woman spoke nonchalantly, as if the accusation had nothing to do with her.

Your skin is thicker than the hull of a world destroyer, the third man, an orc with a look of forced patience, thought as he watched all of this. However, he spoke in a considerably more amicable manner.

“Lieutenant Colonel Sonna,” he started, “I believe that this should count as your loss. On a related note, I would appreciate it if you took better care of your health. I wouldn’t want to see you… sneezing when your nominee fights that earthling I set my eyes on two decades ago.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Grum, I’m not sure I understand what you are trying to imply,” Lieutenant Colonel Sonna played dumb. “That flimsy elf obviously died due to his own incompetence and overconfidence, a dangerous combination, that. I’ll bet that a fine orcish warrior such as yourself would only have been at a minor disadvantage for the briefest of moments before staging a comeback, especially when encountering such a minor matter as a weapon malfunction. With this fact in mind, I most definitely did not lose the bet. I will not yield on this. At most, this contest could be considered a tie.” the woman said without batting an eye, while the elf fumed with rage.

You shameless bitch! I’d cleave you where you stand if it wouldn’t get me court-martialed again! Lieutenant Colonel Clearpond thought. Still, he didn’t dare act on this. Fighting another senior officer while imprisoned would only prolong his sentence, maybe even get him executed. The only thing he could do was shout to vent his frustration.

“What fucking tie? What about my nominee! How will you compensate me for the loss of my candidate?” Lieutenant Colonel Clearpond shouted, while behind his back Lieutenant Colonel Grum sighed, shaking his head.

“He died due to his own incompetence.” Lieutenant Colonel Sonna insisted. “Only an idiot would space out during a battle. Therefore, his death has nothing to do with me. But I can be magnanimous. If you find another nominee, I will allow you to add them into the roster. As you know, this is against the rules we agreed upon when we were first sent here, but I’ll be that broadminded,” the woman said and smiled benevolently, as if she was doing her fellow inmate a favor.

The elf’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head from rage. He reached towards his dagger without thinking, but caught himself in time. Then, out of habit, he began slowly inhaling and exhaling. It had been ages since the near-immortal Clearpond had needed to breathe. Still, the motions worked. After a couple moments, he finally managed to calm down a bit.

“We have already picked this world’s three most talented individuals, and you expect me to find another one at this stage? Heh, forget it,” the elderly elf growled, and grit his flat teeth after coming to a difficult decision.

Suddenly, he made a grasping motion and pulled at the empty space in front of him. As he did, the void resisted and the unreachable world called Masterpiece rippled with an influx of energy.

“What are you doing?” the woman asked, raising a brow.

She knew that Lieutenant Colonel Clearpond was doing the same thing she’d done, feeding the world to influence it, but with the torrent of Ki that flowed out of the elf, he might actually die. She could only wonder what kind of a change he was enforcing.

Then Sonna realized what was going on. “You are forcing a reincarnation of that soul?”

“You’re forcing a nyaah, nyaah, nyaah? Shut up, bitch!” the elf mocked with a bitter expression.

The way Clearpond behaved was hardly any different from a child. And he was certainly acting childish. What he did would cost him an arm and a leg, and it wasn’t even guaranteed to work. Grum rubbed his face with his massive hand, wondering which of the seven heavenly gods had cursed him with fellow inmates like these two.

“So what if I am!” Lieutenant Colonel Clearpond finally panted. His expression became near as dark as the chair he was sitting on. Sweat ran down his face while the hand with which he grasped the void shook violently. Still, the thought of stopping never crossed his mind.

“This way my nominee… is still in the game… and within the rules… we have previously… agreed upon.” Lieutenant Colonel Clearpond grunted as radiant blood trickled down his chin.

“If he wins, I want triple earnings from you… If there’s any kind of future interference… the other party… claims the surviving candidate. If you agree… I won’t press… the matter… of your… sneeze.” The elf’s face twisted as he spat out the final word.

The human thought for a long moment before she finally nodded and said, “Sounds fine to me. He has to be born to an elven mother, though. That’s my only condition. If you agree, I’ll take your bet. I don’t even care how many times you reincarnate him during the decade we’ve got left to wait until our sentence is over.”

“Deal.” The man spat out the word, along with some of the blood dribbling down his chin.

If the blood that had fountained out of Lonely Eagle’s severed neck was glowing, then Clearpond’s blood burned brightly as a star.

Finally, the man ended his motioning, and stumbled back into the chair like he’d pulled on a rope that had suddenly snapped.

The elf closed his eyes, focusing his mind on the world of Masterpiece. He spat out another mouthful of blood, which the moon beneath his feet greedily drank in.

Considering his deathly pale face and shaky hands, whatever price he had paid had been much higher than the one Lieutenant Colonel Sonna had paid for her sneeze.

“I think… his mother is… an elf,” Clearpond panted. “But we won’t… be able to tell… until he grows… powerful enough. The Excellency… that created… this world… was far above us… both in power and… their understanding… of the laws. I can only… tell you that… I have done everything… within my power.” The man was drained, and barely wheezed out the words.

Finally, he popped one of the Energy Recovery pills that Lieutenant Colonel Sonna had used. He closed his eyes and went silent. Lieutenant Colonel Clearpond needed to rest for a couple of months to recover.

The woman nodded without saying a word. As far as she could tell, Clearpond really did try his best to honor their deal.

“I’ve got nothing to do with any of this, so I’m not paying extra if he wins,” Grum grumbled, happy with how he’d managed to distance himself from the whole fiasco. Two senior officers wasting so much energy on a lousy bet. If either of them won, then sure, it was worth it, but winning…

What can a measly elf do in the nine years we have left until the end of our sentence? Grum wondered. Even with the difference in the flow of time, he’ll barely be off his mother’s tit. Besides, there’s only a slim chance that the winner will even be able to leave this creepy place at all, which makes the whole bet just a way of passing time.

The orc looked at his elven inmate. For some reason, instead of a wise military commander, all he managed to see was a gambling addict, a sucker who had just wasted a ton of energy for nothing. It was horrible how time and hardship could change people.

Unexpectedly, the human woman turned to him and started talking. “You know your nominee is no good. You should simply throw in the towel. Even if your little stone-man manages to leave Masterpiece, our armies probably won’t take him into consideration, on account of him being too stupid. Taming rock-men to perform mentally demanding tasks is usually far more trouble than it’s worth. Even if…”

The woman continued chattering, but Grum ignored her. Apparently she had no intention of stopping any time soon.

Meanwhile, in the vast world below, a baby’s first cry sounded.

An adorable baby boy drew his first breath inside a humble, yet comfortable wooden cottage outside a tiny hamlet. The settlement was known as Muddy River, but only by its neighbors and the most accomplished of geographers. It was in the middle of nowhere, several days south of the border between the Empire of Human and the Empire of Elf.

Archibald's lessons:

Our world is incredibly vast. We’ve calculated ages ago that its diameter is fifteen hundred thousand kilometers, however expeditions outside the borders of the Ten Empires of Man are very rare and they’ve never gotten very far.