Chapter 2: The Arts of the Blade-Spear

It never gets easier…the taking of lives, that is. Some find it easy, withdrawing into their shells or forgoing all emotions. Me? I find it hard even now…although there were times when I was truly broken, and lived in the darkest of the abysses. It was those times that I truly fit the mold of the names I had been given.

-The Impaler of Innocents

After I parted ways from Hunter, I went back to the section of our village where the children who were three to six years old lived. It was saddening, I realized; I was one of the last member of the Hunter children who were around my age to have passed the basic Hunter training and the First Blood Baptism.

Making my way through the village and greeting some of the tribesmen and tribeswomen I met, I entered the Caretaker Section, which was adjacently located next to the Under-aged Section.

“Greetings, Wolf Under Stars.” From the warmth of the voice, I knew that it belonged to Grandmother Moon Bird.

Turning around, I stretched my right arm out before folding it toward my chest. It was the gesture of respect to an elder of our tribe. In truth, although Grandmother Moon Bird was not my true grandmother, she was the one who had taken care of me when I had been in the Under-aged Section.

Thus, in all but blood, Grandmother Moon Bird was indeed my grandmother. Or perhaps even mother, for she still had remnants of her beauty remaining. Time had been kind to her. She had aged well, her figure remaining slim and the two horns protruding from her head still firm and solid.

Grandmother Moon Bird made a small smile, which made it seem as if her whole face was glowing. The smile reached all the way to her eyes which glittered with kindness. “My, always so polite, Wolf. And from the look of you, perhaps you have passed the First Blood Baptism?”

I nodded. Her greeting had broken me from my ponderous silence. I wanted to return to it. “I will see you later, Grandmother Moon Bird,” I said softly.

“It is always well to reflect on your first kill,” she said with a knowing look and a twinkle in her eyes.

I was surprised and my surprise must have shown. My face was probably full of obvious disbelief.

“Hard to believe, eh?”

It was. From the way Grandmother Moon Bird carried herself, I would not have thought her capable of harming even a small bird. Never would I have thought her to be a former Hunter.

“Perhaps you can even learn a few things from me,” she said with a wink.

Still embarrassed from my blunder, I only quickly nodded. “Maybe next time,” I said, declining her invitation. It would do no good for my reputation and appearance with the other Hunter children if I were to learn from Grandmother Moon Bird. I would, at the very least, receive mocking and others of that sort. And perhaps she was not even that good of a Hunter…I would need to ask Hunter about that. He would perhaps know.

I formed another gesture of respect, adding a farewell before leaving Grandmother Moon Bird. From behind, I could hear her soft voice. “How the young doubts the old.”

A blush almost creeped up on me, knowing that she had seen through my thoughts.

My gait became quicker, as if I had sprouted wings from my feet. From the other greetings I received, I only politely nodded back. A short nod to say that I did not have the time.

When I passed through the Caretaker Section, I went around the Under-aged Section, which was deemed as the loudest place in our village. The noises of infants howling through the night for blood had left my ears ringing. I almost winced my eyes for the Caretakers who were used to this sort of thing.

“Greetings, Sister Dance of First.” I smiled at the girl with long flowing night colored hair, which was almost reminiscent of the moon dancing in the sky. On top of her head, if I looked hard enough, I could see two small horns that had just sprouted. Tiny, almost unnoticeable.

In our tribe which was known as the Piercing Moon, there were two races that were part of it, the Demona and the Wraithborn. Dance of First belonged to the Demona, whereas I belonged to both races. I was one of the rarer than rare half-child. In fact, I was the only one in my age group who was a half-child.

“I told you not to call me sister!” She formed a slight pout, which was gone in a split second, soon replaced by another emotion. “Did you pass the baptism?” Dance of First asked with no small amount of excitement in her voice. Her large, sheena eyes shined a natural verdant color resembling that of a Moonstalk flower.

Before I could nod or even answer her question, I was already assaulted by a barrage of questions.

“Was it fun?”

“Did you have fun?”

“What was it like?”

“Can you also ask Hunter if I can try it?”

I did not felt annoyed the slightest bit from her unceasing stream of questions. Instead, I was thankful. It brought me out from my dark cloud of ponderous silence. Then again, I had grown up along with Dance of First ever since I was an infant howling for blood. I was long used to her curious and playful nature.

It would also have been unbecoming of me, who had been selected to be a Hunter, to be harsh on her. Dance of First was a little creature adored by most of the Trainee Section where the three to six years old stayed. In addition, she only came up to my chest, unlike her peers who were my shoulder height.

Then she ceased her questions, her small lips curling into that of a small frown as she looked past me. She groaned. “Ugh, it’s Teacher Prina.” She quickly look toward me, her eyes moving upward to meet mine. “I will see you later, Brother Wolf Under Stars. I have to escape!” Her frown no longer on her face, she laughed cheerfully and proceeded into a run.

“I bet that you will get caught though.”

Dance of First gave me another small pout before turning her back and running away with a small laugh. I watched the sight of her running away. Her cheerful form never failed to impress me.

I was just in time to look backward to see Teacher Prina with a scary look on her face. “You little Demona girl! Just wait until I catch you. I will make sure you stay extra long this time in order to make up for me having to look for you! It is not the teacher that should look for her student, but the student that should come to the teacher!”

Teacher Prina’s voice grew louder as she saw Dance of First running away from her. “That is it, little girl!” As the teacher ran past me, her green hair which was tied into a pony tail swinging back and forth, I could hear her chanting in the language of Knowing.

I recognized some of the words, for I had been learning the language also.

“Wind. Blessing. Speed.”

It was an enhancement to increase her speed that she was casting. Teacher Prina was a Magus who belonged to the Wraithborn race in our tribe. It was rare to see the traits of magic in the Demona, but Dance of First had it in abundance, even more so than most of the Wraithborn children her age.

I watched with amusement as Teacher Prina drastically increased her running speed. Her feet was as if they had truly grown wings. It was as if the wind itself was embracing her back, urging her onward.

As the distance between the two figures grew shorter and shorter, and as the figures of Dance of First and Teacher Prina became further and further, I was left alone in the Trainee Section.

Seeing Teacher Prina use magic left a small impact on my mind. Having been born with the strong body of the Demona which was suitable to be a Hunter and also having the traits of magic, I remembered that I had to meet with Teacher Embracing Flower in three days’ time.

I hated becoming both a Magus and a Hunter. In my heart, I firmly wished that I could devote all my time into being a Hunter. But I knew that it was not a possibility. Having to devote time to both Magus training and Hunter training, I was behind in both aspects of training compared to other trainees.

Then again, I admitted to myself, perhaps it was just my lack of talent.

With those thoughts, and under the darkening sky with the moon dancing into visibility, I entered the Long House and with a few short greetings to my friends, I was soon under the soft and warm embrace of my fur-covered bed.

This night, I did not even bothered to practice any techniques with the spear.

I was tired.

And my hands were baptized in blood.

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“Good morning, Hunter,” I greeted loudly along with the other Hunters in training. They were mostly three to four years old like me. There were in total eight of us, including me. All of them Demona except for me who was a half-child.

All of us were half-naked, wearing only black leather pants and fur-tipped boots. It was a sign to show off that we were all Hunters in training. Our bodies were strong and thus we bared our upper chests to Mother Nature.

It was a gesture of respect and a token of status in our tribe.

Under the morning sun, we sat in front of Hunter in a grass-covered clearing near our village. It was safe here as the Hunters of our tribe periodically cleared out any dangerous threats, including the boundaries of the forest nearby.

“Today, we will practice more forms.” Hunter paused as if he was waiting for the ensuing groans of the trainees, but none of us did.

Although there were a few groans at first when Hunter had first started teaching us—now, there were none. All of us admired Hunter.

Who was Hunter?

He was the strongest fighter in our Piercing Moon tribe. All of the children had heard tales of his prowess in the bonfires that were lit up in our village on extremely successful hunts.

Hunter continued and I listened intently along with the others.

“The Arts of the Blade-Spear is an arduous journey. It is like climbing a tall mountain. But even if you finish climbing that mountain, you will soon see another taller mountain, far more grand and mightier than the previous. It takes a lifetime to master the blade-spear, but even then, you should never forget that you are still a trainee with the blade-spear.”

As if we had become children who were younger than three years old, as if we had reverted back to the time we were in the Underaged Section, we nodded excitedly, our hands fidgeting to hold onto the wooden spears which were just beside us. Just a finger’s reach to hold the weapon, to firmly grip and revere it. The life that we could hold with our hands.

None of us, however, reached for the spears. We would not give Hunter such discourtesy. Each and every one of us were already three or four years old. We were the Hunters in training. We were the most mature out of all our peers. We were the strongest. We would be Hunters.

“I will demonstrate the forms, and shall add a new one,” Hunter spoke in his soft, yet firm voice that reached all of us. In his dark eyes were the usual dull glint of amusement.”

In his hands, Hunter held a blade-spear. It was not just a blade-spear. It was the Blade-Spear. In that weapon were the lives of all the previous Hunters who held the position of lead Hunter. It was fashioned from the wood of an Ever Tree, its hilt and guard made from dragon leather. But most precious of all, the blade of the spear was made from a fallen star mixed with Xeonite.

Underneath the light of the sun, the blade glistened powerfully with a silvery red hue. From the triangular pointed tip, the fallen star metal curved into that of a graceful blade, reaching almost three feet. And on its other side, was an almost perfect symmetrical look with one exception. In the middle was a serrated edge that made the blade of the spear even more fearsome.

The serrated edge was made to tear out both the flesh and armor of any opponent. Graceful, yet fearsome. The Blade-Spear truly deserved the name of Cruel Moon Piercer.

It was nothing like the weapons we had. Our weapons were merely wooden shafts with crude metal affixed into a triangular point. There was nothing like a blade to call it a blade-spear. Instead, it was just a normal spear.

We did not deserve any blade-spears yet. We had not even learned the Arts of the Blade, nor even begun to become decent in the Arts of the Spear, let alone the Arts of the Blade-Spear.

Like always, Hunter started out in the Guarded Stance, rather than the Assailing Stance. His knees were crouched slightly lower than one would be in the Assailing Stance, and the spear was slanted upward, more toward the center of his body, and just a touch away from neutrality.

He seemed as if he was an immovable mountain.

In less than a blink of an eye, Hunter entered into Snake Flight. My eyes trailed after his blurred movement, and my pair of eyes narrowed, as if I could see through his movements. But that was not reality. I could not even see through his movements.

Immediately after Snake Flight, Hunter blurred into Small Whirlwind, then into Big Whirlwind. Then a beautiful arc, so swift I could only catch the ending. It was Half Circle, used for defensive movements and for testing your opponents. Even this far away, I felt the scattering of the wind made from the forcefulness of the spear, of his strength.

Executing more and more movements, and repeating the series of movements, Hunter continued his exercise before finally adding a new form. On the balls of his feet, Hunter made a small pirouette, before gathering all the utilized energy and extending Cruel Moon Piercer outward. His body angled decisively, the spear lunged forward and his grip shifted until only one hand lingered near the guard.

I knew that Hunter purposefully went slowly in executing this form, so that our eyes could follow his movement, but even then, I felt a rush of wind. But more so, my blood rushing in excitement, all dark thoughts of how I had killed the Bigger Ronat wiped from my mind.

Still, looking at Hunter at the end of the execution of this new form, I—no, all of us—were filled with eagerness, our blood boiling for a release. Almost the whole fearsome eight foot and a half tall length of Cruel Moon Piercer was extended outward in that lunge. It was a killing strike, made more so fearsome by the glinting silver-red weapon, which was more than one and a half foot taller than Hunter.

Hunter stood upright, blade-spear in one hand, his breath not even the slightest bit hard-pressed. “This form is known as Kiss of the Lunging Moon. Be cautious in executing this form, for you will overextend yourself even more than Snake Flight or Charging Boar. Only use it if you are sure you can kill your opponent or prey in one decisive move.”

“Not few Hunters have died from overextending themselves with Snake Flight, Charging Boar, or Kiss of the Lunging Moon. They were instantly killed by the more formidable beasts of the wild. And also by the Dreads.”

All of us took on Hunter’s grave somber. The Dreads were ferocious opponents, little better than the beasts of the wild. They gave no mercy. Not even a thumb’s worth to each other.

We had all heard of how the Dreads painted the villages red with the blood of other tribes and races that lived far away from us. They would paint the village square scarlet, desecrating it, before razing it to the ground with a blazing fire. Blood on the stones. Blood on the ground. Blood on the corpses. The Dreads would paint the world red with blood if they could.

Reverting back to his usual face of neutrality only broken by a slight carefreeness, Hunter said, “You may start practicing now.”

The fires burning in our hearts and blood of our bodies, we grabbed at our wooden spears and began practicing fervently. I was no exception to this so caught up was I in the atmosphere of the small clearing we were on.

Throughout the rest of the morning, Hunter helped fixed many of my forms, making them more natural. I, of course, was not alone in this.

At the end of the day, though, I was still annoyed by the fact that Hunter spent the majority of the morning hovering close to me. The annoyance did not lay in Hunter. No, it laid with my poor spear handling. I was ashamed of the fact that I was the poorest out of the trainees.

The next two mornings passed by routinely with Hunter correcting our forms.

In the afternoon, I would drink the blood of a Ronat and dine on the flesh of a boar. We trainees chose to follow the dining habits similar to the Hunters. We ate the raw flesh and blood of beasts, uncooked and unseasoned. We gave our thanks to Mother Nature. Then we poured a few drops of blood onto the earthen floor.

The rest of the afternoon would then be spent doing some chores. I had gotten an exception yesterday afternoon due to taking the First Blood Baptism.

At night, I would train some more with the spear, not partaking in the conversations my peers and neighbors had. I did not even partake in the nightly entertainments and stories.

My conviction felt strong under the glowing moonlight, as the beads of sweat drooped down my half-naked body. Each movement, each execution of the forms, I could feel myself ever growing stronger. It was slight. It was very slight.

But then, what else was progress?

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AN: Do not mind the strange terms. They will eventually be explained as the story progresses. That said, hoped you enjoyed it. And do please point out any mistakes or inconsistencies you see. I will be grateful OTL.