Eras have come, leaving their mark and remembrance with a host of memorabilia: destruction or creation. Life, and the severing of. Names, and treasure. At the dying embers of an era, the greatest collectors of renown whether alive or an inanimate are the first to be historied by men of the new era, seeking answers, truth and sometimes—revelation. In one year, a year hotly debated as the historical record vanished from archives held by kingdoms of yore, an unexpected tumult ended an era inopportunely.

And legends decide when.

Hannamith Island, home to millions of cultivators and the domain of the One-City Kingdom, ruled by Silverwhite Ling, the excitatory event of the decade made every inhabitant move vigorously; buildings throughout the land were thrown up in a hurry, without sacrificing quality, a feat possible by the power of said event, influencing all and granting an invisible boon. Why, yesterday Eboncrown had finished its two-week celebration on their people’s departure to the host village. Any village or hamlet on the road to the host was laden with people, but to what worry did they hold other than keeping the inn beds warm and food prepared? Businesses had their lives changed, and those who couldn’t meet the demand collapsed under it.

Roaming gangs of blinding mist, making giants look normal blanketed the world’s ceiling, at a place where time is decidedly an unknown and men made their own schedules, as they saw fit. Towers embraced their coats, and silhouettes that stood guard on or around it didn’t look to mind, either. A hesitant wind tickled hanging lanterns and strolled beyond gates cloaked in mist as the towers were. Here was another settlement yet humble in its population, but lavishly showing wealth with no tourists to see.

These lands were forgotten by the island; too hard to plow, and rain was the only such invasion that explored; that being common knowledge, it was left solely to its owners since the beginning. But, when the Queen calls, none may avoid her proclamation on Hannamith.

A shirtless youth on a flattened mountain peak stood surrounded, swords pointing towards the same; the chill because of elevation was unnoticed to him, and even if he weren’t in this moment, it would be ignored all the same. Blinking, the youth’s own sword was gripped with purpose and resolve, and none of his aggressors put a jolt of fear in him. Sweat reeked off his person, bringing an odor that curled the nose and demanded a four step berth, at minimum. When he, or they shifted their weight by a tad, tips of swords and broken hilts was the scraping reply. Somehow, falling was almost as perilous as facing them.

There were no practice swords today; they’re running late.

With no signal, they charged. Swords sharpened for flesh, the swings and stabs racing for the youth would give no quarter to his life, knowing this, and with one sword he charged back. Blades met blade, a practiced dance none but the youth himself could do. A steel tempest matched only by the rain’s long march through the land, all the way up to the Lan River. He was taught well, for an intersection of steel was matched by flawless parries and deflections of some swipes behind.

The youth remembered he wasn’t just a man with a penchant for swordplay—a cultivator used more than that—a stab more subtle than most, a reflection of that individual’s skill went underneath notice and it was too late for a redirect; instead of evading, he simply ignored it. That sword snapped as though it consisted of inferior metal on touching his skin. Juva did miracles and marvels.

Labored breaths followed in the minutes of their contest. Yet, their aggression did not falter. No, one can say it intensified. The youth, whether in impatience or an inclination for opportunity, thrusted himself forward to a rather vulnerable position; he was surrounded, but, with deft maneuvering and battle awareness to outweigh a hundred bloody veterans, he was able to alleviate the pressure by exposing the less vulnerable, and keeping his most guarded. Now, he foregoes all of it, the training that was literally beaten into him was tossed away for this gamble!

A man whose balance was recovering from a cocksure swipe earlier was his target, if he could take him down then the rest will fall like dominoes, or so he thinks. Like thunder from a clear sky, will he collapse on him; a swift judgement without hesitation. However—

Red, like any man’s, bled slightly from the youth’s throat. If it pulled just a little, there would be no saving him. The youth was frozen. Death was a cold and oversized knife.

“I concede,” the youth struggled to say; his blade wasn’t even dull yet!

A heavily scarred and colored voice replied: “You don’t.”

He snickered. “I said I did, what’s the issue?!”

“Because you don’t mean it, young master.”

“Yeah, keep assuming Instructor Yen,” The youth rolled his eyes. “So, let’s go again.”

“That’ll be enough for today,” Yen said, lowering his blade back into his sheath. “We’re already behind a couple hours. If we delay further, we’ll miss check-in.”

The youth, Tret Ku, Second Sword of the Unbreakable Hilt Sect pouted, glancing at the man he targeted earlier. “You let him expose himself on purpose?”

Yen and the man exchanged an amused look. “Your tendencies are too easily read, young master. An observant foe can turn it against you if you keep fighting so self-absorbed. That’s the last lesson I can teach you before we depart.”

He made an exasperated sigh. “I am aware of the importance of this week, but I can’t pretend as though this isn’t a waste of my time.”

“Oh? I doubt you’ll feel the same when you get there. The Queen herself will be in attendance.”

Yan popped a sweetseed in his mouth. “Heard the Queen’s a beauty without peer. It’s before your time, but a handful of years ago, some of those noble houses threatened to splinter in their infighting, I don’t know much, as it was rumor, but a lot of the men in these houses fought between themselves trying to decide who’s most worthy of offering themselves to her.”

Tret Ku raised a brow. Pathetic. Insects reaching for heaven when the tree is undefeated; she belongs to me. Always has, for I am the chosen son of heaven destined for her, and she, the Queen, will praise her own ancestors and luck for being blessed with me.

Raising a shrug, Tret Ku turned for the stairway. “Inform me when the caravan’s ready, I’ll be in my quarters.” And left a trail of bows in his wake.

Praise to this desiccated land, to be able to produce a individual such as himself—from an ordinary womb too—was a millennia expense of grace and some pity from the divine. He himself didn’t understand the point of hosting a tournament, if only for the results to be decided so boringly. Thinking on it, not all the world has known of his name, not yet. Suddenly, it all made sense! The exchange’s simply a stage for him to proclaim his name for all of Hannamith to know of. Audacious pretenders—they call contestants, but he says otherwise—amount to nothing but dumbbells to awe peasantry.

“My sword and my name,” Tret Ku said, raising his chin higher, “are all I need.”

“Is that so?” A voice said.

Tret Ku’s face was stone. He was nearly in his private quarters, but he was already at a private section of the Sect, a paradise on earth crafted specifically for him, and all the requests heeded. If the Sect Leader had two jade springs, he’d take four. But if there was one person that annoyed him the most…

Tret Ku, much to his annoyance, recited: “Is your sword sharp, my cousin?”

And, the voice around the corner replied tradionally: “Always is, always will be, cousin.”

Mai Jing, First Sword of the Unbreakable Hilt Sect appeared. Her short hair was maintained out of necessity, and because Sect Leader’s the type of man who would remind of you of your mistakes and list them all off from beginning to end, from the very first day of meeting to now. He hated the idea of her wasting time trying to maintain it, and so, earlobe length it will be.

She smiled. “How was practice?”

“Fine. Like usual.” What is she trying to say? You think you’re better than me?

“I saw some of what happened, you did great. Even I would—”

“Brevity, cousin,” Tret Ku deadpanned, barely concealing his eyeroll. Mai Jing’s face flickered, a touch of something.

“We’re to depart today, yes.” Mai Jing said, despite her cousin’s words. “I had only wanted to say that we must be careful, for we are the only two contestants possible from our humble Unbreakable Hilt. You know that, in our sect, we run things differently, allowing only two to be an equivalent to a clan or sect’s Chosen. Because of that—”

Suddenly, Tret Ku continued walking. Much to Mai Jing’s horror.

“Cousin!”

“One lecture’s enough for today. I hear your sword, cousin.”

Tret Ku ended up having to silently shut the door to her face in the hallway. He stared at nothing. The grip on his sword though, didn’t lessen. He waited. And when, his spiritual awareness informed him that his cousin had departed, he let loose. A bowl, some drapes and a wall ended up suffering gashes no amount of hours could simply fix; needing replacements instead. By the windowsill, where unsurprising mist made the windowpane look no different than a shower after, Tret Ku leaned.

Frowning, She considers herself my better! Always! As though being First Sword means anything to me. Ever since she’d heard that Silverwhite swordswoman was planning to attend Rosewater University, she’s been acting as if the entry’s already hers! Insanity. It’s been destined for me! Idolization’s for the weak, and when I get there, I’ll see to it that her skill is nothing but the inflated opinion of royalty, trying to remind us of their power, Tret Ku thought.

His sword was baptized in the White Stag Basin, said to be connected to where man first learned how to shape and move the earth’s metals to their imagining, at a time when ignorance and weakness were synonymous. He snickered. But on the same day as hers was. What boiled him over most was the fact that, despite her title, their cultivation was equal, and talent was nearly. She merely had an insight into her Aspect before him, that was the clincher and catalyst of his torment.

How can a man endure such humiliation? He was a year older than her, too! Yet she acted as if she knew it all… had it all, even. If he doesn’t take his place in the annals of history at this exchange, then he’ll be left to his own devices and go mad!

Unexpectedly, he grinned. “It’s fine. Sure, she can have the glory. For now.”

“Matters not. For I’m the only soul in the sect that has his Aspect unknown. Can’t be said for her, who wanted to show off. And it’s the greatest ever.”

That grin traded places with a gleeful laugh, one full of expectation. As if it were already laid before him.

“But,” he said, drifting off to wonder, “my cousin’s gotten rather buxom these past years. Yes, indeed. ‘Course, if I were to offer my hand our family wouldn’t object, certainly not. However, that’s too boring. I need no permission to take a woman I like.”

Tret Ku flipped his sword; a sharp edge, but his Juva was denser. “When I defeat her and prove the Elders wrong, I’ll make her my concubine after my wife, the predestined Queen. How about that? Sounds fantastic!”

His edict is to never be disturbed by anyone, even by servants who’re banished to the outer edge of his courtyard, only his cousin and the Elders could barge their way in, and so, his hyenic laughter occupied the still quiet.

Outside, five-hundred swords and counting bordered his walk. Banners upraised of both his sect and his family name didn’t move in the windless air, but it was the thought that mattered. His entourage wasn’t his alone, as he begrudgingly knew. It was for two. Her and him together. The junior disciples made the most applause, although they were disciplined to do otherwise. While their swords were ceremoniously stabbing the ground, their throats carried all feelings to ear.

And he was a prince without title. Just his belt alone employed five villages in the making of, and his greed had no equal, especially when he had to upstage one uppity woman. But, he had to admit—how could he hate and adore an individual in the same moment? Mai Jing, who walked one step ahead as custom dictates, drew enough attention to render him inconsequential. Her outfit was reserved. A dress more practical than need be, but the curves she hid and those she didn’t only inflamed his desire. He was certain she was meant to be his.

Their entourage was celebrated like heroes already returned, but they hadn’t even reached their carriage yet. Unsurprising, as at the last exchange their two entries were eliminated before the second round, solidifying their place as a below-average sect. Until them, of course. These disciples, and especially Elders had as much certainty of their triumph as he did. Maybe even more.

The Elders had their own pick of clothing too, looking as though they were a thousand years older than they already were with a hundred-thousand idioms to boot. Their majesty humble, but an outsider no matter the stripes can see absolute power within. The most powerful of their people would guard them on the way to the Grittus clan; aware that if they shirk their duty and something was to happen, then they can only repay by suicide.

Instructor Yan held open the carriage door when they boarded and two of their Elders followed inside. Two more would be in the carriage behind, and the other four will secure the vanguard. A small nation could charge at them and, at most, suffer some scrapes.

Observing this, Tret Ku simmered. Humiliating. Cultivators with true strength need no escort. He’d wanted to look around, but found that every time he did, Mai Jing’s glare followed. He returned it.

“What?”

Mai Jing shook her head and closed her eyes. The Elders in the carriage exchanged glances, and all of them pretended as though the atmosphere was anything but, leaving Instructor Yan to be the one to entertain the carriage with small talk.

Then, the journey begun.

It had only been a day since they left; their Mudanrian horses from the mainland had cost the sect a year of pillwork in exchange. It’s said their bloodline descended from a divinity at some point, but Tret and many others scoffed at it as a barely concealed excuse to price gouge. But, Mudanrian horses aren’t native to Hannamith nor is the island ever allowed to breed their own, the threat of crippling by Mortal Reminder as punishment. But the price bought them an expedient journey to the host land. If they had to rely on regular horses leaving so late would have them miss the deadline by a week; and who would dare not only miss attending, but come late while the Queen and her retainers came on time?

The Silverwhite family didn’t believe in executions; rather, suffering in life was the best repayment for sin. That chilled him the most.

In a day, they’d already passed Geldan’s Span and were on their way to a village, from there they’d resupply. But the trip was as boring as watching tree bark.

Mai Jing hadn’t spoken a word since their departure and that didn’t bother him—if anything, that would infuriate him more. He could tell she was meditating, likely preparing her mind for the battles ahead. It took everything to prevent himself from laughing again; those would be her last as a swordswoman, she was too great a beauty to be away from a bed for long. His own sword laid on his lap, never straying from his side. When the time comes, he’ll show no mercy.

“Instructor Yan,” Tret Ku said, interrupting Yan’s talk with an Elder, something concerning the weather in the days to come, “The Grittus, how are they?”

Yan blinked. “Are you interested in their strength, or history? Actually, that’s surprising, coming from you.”

Tret Ku chuckled. “As if. Passing curiosity, that’s all.” There were no foreign powers, besides the factions in Eboncrown that interested him; monkeys flinging dung at one another didn’t leave much for him to wonder at. When he becomes king, he’ll make sure the lesser scrap vanish. What need was there for anyone weak like his own sect?

“Well…” Yan let his thought drift. “The Grittus, lay on the lower end of our Queen’s subjects if we’re judging strength. But I believe, they aren’t to be underestimated, why, one of their clan’s families placed higher than both of our two Swords in the previous exchange. If that says something for you.”

Not too bad, Tret Ku thought. “And they’re only some minor clan among all of our Queen’s subjects? I’ll praise their determination. However, meaningless in the face of my—” He glanced at Mai Jing and the others— “our power.”

Yan smiled, nodding. “Yes, of course young master. But I will warn you that—”

They froze. The carriage grinded to a halt. Mai Jing’s eyes shot open and her steel was out before even a word was said, Elders notwithstanding. Tret Ku’s heart was already in someone’s—something’s grasp and wanted to kill him for reasons unknown! He was in the jungle naked and shelter sat at a far beyond. It’s like a great beast had set its sight on me! Hungry, voracious, willing to destroy all life if that’s what it takes to kill just me! This is… this is…!

Regarded as one of the greatest swordsmen to ever be raised in his Unbreakable Hilt Sect, there were only two times in his life that he felt, and knew, he was to die. One was avoided by pure luck, due to a misunderstanding brought on by an Elder thinking he was someone else. Second, and he hated to admit, was by his cousin who gave him battlefield surgery while he bled to death.

“Do you feel that?!” Yan shouted to the Elders.

“Powerful. Merciless,” An elder said, furrowing his brows. “It appears a Shade Beast of magnificent strength has chosen us for a hunt. But this is rare, beasts with Juva this intense have been wiped out long ago.”

Yan’s chipped and serrated sword sung out of its scabbard, and kicked the carriage door off its hinge. “There’s no choice then! Elder Wei, take the juniors and evacuate. Back to the sect, we’ll hold them off here and—”

Tret Ku didn’t hear them. Wouldn’t, for they were becoming muffled and small murmurs in his ear as he leaped outside, Juva and sword as one. Run? Here? Now? There can be no turning back! I am destined to be an emperor of this dirt under the skies! Who, can make me desert before I make my debut? None!

He was near to the point of revealing his Aspect, if he must, to survive this targeting. Secrecy be damned, he wasn’t meant to die here. Besides, this might be to his benefit: if he was to kill the beast, singlehandedly, with the sword he was bequeathed by the Sect Leader himself, then there will be no question about his abilities and the revealing of his Aspect will for certain solidify him as undefeatable. Smiling, Mai Jing might even admit her defeat before the stage is even seen if she realizes my hidden might! He thought. The timing is perfect!

The aura beat at him again, but now he had for certain where the beast is. That known, he darted ahead again; bushes and grass trampled in the name of glory. Trees who dared not move for their emperor were diced apart. He heard a yell, someone’s catching up behind him. Probably Yan, or maybe Mai Jing coming to steal what’s his again. He refused to let that happen! Absolutely, will not happen!

Tret Ku’s wrist made a mighty slash, however it paled in comparison to the Juva clinging from the hilt of his sword, up the spine, and to the tip where it was most dense. His reach was extended by five swords—he could substitute an entire phalanx of spearmen with himself. You—die—now!

A field that’d probably seen hundreds of years of life died in a ferocious swing from Tret Ku. Some unfortunate deer that raised its head at the wrong moment, wrong time died headless. It couldn’t even endure a tenth of it. A gargantuan scythe from a measly sword erased, destroyed, murdered whatever obstructed Tret Ku’s will. The first teaching of the Unbreakable Hilt Sect was the idea of never being stuck at a range disadvantage; being swordsmen, cultivators and warriors all over the world used many tools at their disposal, and many could counter what they did simply by stepping back.

He was sure to make sure it died with one attack, lest it come retaliate and deal him a severe blow. Despite his arrogance, he had to preserve some pieces of himself to be able to see the arena. But…

With the field clear, and nothing to see, Tret Ku squinted. There wasn’t a body or hints. Instead, what was paid was the silent death mourns of plants, and the agonizing whines of mammals. Suddenly, Tret Ku whipped around. His sword almost ran through a man’s face, but barely, and somehow, missed. At the tip, this man raised his lips.

“Who are you? Did you see a Shade Beast here? Speak!” Tret Ku demanded. A peasant, here? That didn’t make sense—he should be dead, but heaven’s luck saved him.

“Seen nothing ‘round here,” he said, but dared to bend down without permission and picked up a chipped straw hat, sharply cut. Brushing it off, he placed it back on his head.

“…Just you.”