Devourer Of Destiny - Chapter 149
“You bet I can.”
Ebon Dirge, now at the point of the unveiling, indulged his urge to show off. This was his public debut in the Celestial Ascendance Academy, and he intended to exploit it to the maximum.
Master Harford’s showmanship was invested in the demonstration of his techniques and processes, while Dirge had been mostly ignored. He had expected this, and so the weapon he had chosen to make was in itself a showcase.
“This sword, ladies and gentlemen, is a flexible blade weapon,” Dirge announced, and with a flick of his wrist the blade wrapped around his waist, the tip of the blade snapping into the groove at the bottom of the hilt with an audible click. “It requires no scabbard and can be drawn and ready at a moment’s notice.” With another flick of his wrist, he unraveled the blade and waved it in the air in front of him.
“Pardon me, Mistress Sable,” one of the judges that had been silent so far, a dark-skinned man with long glossy black hair who wore a simple black robe, interjected. “What is the use of such a blade when it… wobbles like that?”
Dirge grinned in response. “I’m glad you asked that, good sir. You see, this weapon has a series reinforcement diagram. This not only means that it can instantly be made rigid like a normal sword,” the blade, as though suddenly sobered, stood up straight, “but because of the nature of the inscription, it can also be partially straightened at different lengths and positions while in the hand of its wielder.” The blade bent over at the bottom again, but the remainder of its length was still rigid.
The metal-crystal hybrid amalgam that Dirge used was not only useful in that it matched the rest of the blade in its contraction while cooling, it was also a flexible material. The dozen interlinked ring-like structures were what provided the sectional control of what was rigid or flexible, reacting to the injection of essence.
The man in the black robes nodded thoughtfully, while Clodiana appeared to still be unimpressed. “That’s all well and good, Miss Sable,” she noted with an acerbic expression, “but you’ve completely ruined any potential for spellwork in the sword just to play that little trick.”
“Have I?” Dirge asked in return, arching an eyebrow. “I don’t recall ever saying that, madam. In addition to the controlled rigidity and flexibility of the blade, this sword possesses a bladeforce projection diagram that is compatible not just with fire, but with all five primary elements with excellent efficiency, and is also compatible with other affinities, although at a reduced efficiency rate as the crystals for those weren’t in the supply.”
Dirge straightened the blade and then let a fire blaze on its surface. That fire was then extinguished by a layer of frost, the frost covered by the layer of dirt which sloughed off under pressure from a greenish light that extinguished with a metallic ringing sound. The audience members who had been unimpressed with the floppy sword were now silently watching the transformations: as the five primary elements were the most common affinities, induced or natural, most of the audience could strongly feel the presence of one or another in the sequence.
The gray-bearded man’s eyebrows had climbed at the demonstration. “Mistress Sable, is there a reason you chose to not specialize the sword in any one specific affinity?”
Dirge nodded. “Of course. I am, like most experts, one of those born without any specific affinity. When I opened my meridians, I chose to refrain from having an affinity induced. Many would scoff at this choice as it was one I made rather than one forced from necessity, but I have found it extremely useful that I am in touch with all of the elements in the same way. Then, there is, of course, the tactical theme of the weapon to consider.”
“This blade is unpredictable in its trajectory, its movements, and its rigidity. It is also just as unpredictable in the other way it is wielded, and because of that it can not only masterfully be used in raw swordsmanship, but in the hands of a savvy practitioner it can counter the elements of different opponents without having to resort to another treasure or overwhelming with a single element.”
Even Clodiana had nothing to retort after that, frowning in silent consideration. The audience conversed in hushed voices, and the telltale quiet movement of lips engaged in voice transmission was also present.
The gray-bearded man smiled. “That sounds wonderful, Mistress Sable. But now comes the real test of whether this can be called a sword.”
“Of course,” Dirge agreed, nodding. With a small injection of essence, he made the blade rigid and gently gripped it between his fingers and presented the sword hilt-first to the man at the podium.
The gray-bearded man nodded. “As expected, it’s extremely light, almost as if it isn’t even there. The diagram work is exquisite, although of a school that I am entirely unfamiliar with. I can’t even sense any gaps between inscription and blade; it’s flawless in that regard.”
Clodiana snorted at that last comment, but even Master Harford, who had remained like a statue during the recital, had to give an appreciative nod to that. Masterful work was masterful work, after all.
“I have a couple of questions before I continue the demonstration, Miss Sable,” the man at the podium announced. “I hope you can elucidate a few things for the audience and myself.”
Dirge smiled and gave a nod, once again noting that the man seemed to be taking every accommodation he could without going far out of his way. “Of course.”
“The inscription inside the blade seems very different to what I am used to, partially in its structure and partially in its composition,” the man noted. “I was watching your process and can surmise some things, but I hope you could explain it for the audience who may have missed it.”
“Oh, that,” Dirge replied, acting nonchalant. “The internal inscription is a compound inscription with two parts: the elemental projection and the mechanism for controlling the rigidity. The latter is special in itself because it is a closed-loop design with nearly zero loss; essence injected in the structure can be reclaimed. There is no continual feed requirement to keep the blade rigid. As for the material… using the available materials I created a crystal-metal amalgam with all the conductivity of the crystal and the flexibility and thermal properties of the blade alloy. Because of that, I could create the diagrams first and then cast the blade over it, resulting in the lack of gaps.”
The audience erupted at that pronouncement. The handful that had watched Dirge’s process were nodding thoughtfully, but most had missed out on it, focused on Master Harford’s performance. After a moment of the clamor, the man at the podium raised his free hand to quiet the audience. “Thank you, Mistress Sable. Very intricate. Let’s see if this can weather the true tests for a sword, then.”
With a wave of the man’s free hand, the two spheres that had been damaged in the previous test repaired themselves. “First, stabbing,” the man announced, and he thrust the sword at the first sphere. The blade punctured the orb effortlessly. The man pulled it out and raised it overhand. “Second, slashing.” The sword came down, and the second orb was parted before the blade. “And lastly, its resilience.” The sword was brought down on the black metal orb, where it rebounded with a light pinging sound.
The gray-bearded man held out the sword so that the adjudication panel could see it. The smallest of impressions had dulled a part of the edge, but the blade itself remained in its rigid form and intact. Flame played over its surface for a moment without any sputtering or issue before it was extinguished.
“Congratulations, Mistress Sable,” the man at the podium announced. “Your sword pierces, cuts, and can weather an impact while maintaining its properties. You may have it back.” The man smiled and laid the flat of the blade over his hands, presenting the sword to Dirge, who returned the smile and retrieved the weapon.
“This has been an enlightening contest between the two sides,” the man said as he faced forward, “a weapon of the most orthodox construction versus one of innovative and ingenious technique. It will be difficult to judge, so I think we may need to adjourn to–”
“Excuse me,” Clodiana interrupted, a small smirk on her lips, “but there is one test I would still like to see before we decide.”
The gray-bearded man sighed. “Yes, Clodiana?”
“As it appears to be such a close call, why don’t we fall back to the best way to judge two blades against one another, with a clash?” Clodiana asked, her eyes sparkling with false innocence. “One single joint blow, that’s all.”
Dirge resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the silly woman’s suggestion. It was clear that she was confident that the result of such a clash was a foregone conclusion: Harford’s larger, heavier sword would come out better in a forceful collision of the blades. The dumbass obviously hadn’t been paying attention when he described his sword’s features, but that would only play to his ultimate advantage.
The gray-bearded man looked over to Harford. “Do you concur?”
Harford’s expression was inscrutable, but after a moment he nodded. “Sure, if she does.”
“Mistress Sable?”
Dirge smiled. “Of course. A field test is welcome.”
“Very well,” the man conceded. “Who then will wield the blade?”
Clodiana’s face held a grin that was venomous. “Why not allow the masters themselves to do it? This is their competition, right?”
Harford just nodded at that. “Mistress Sable, it is your right to ask for a champion to handle this.”
“Thank you, but I won’t need one,” Dirge replied, trying not to smile too widely or laugh out loud. How would that daft woman react if she knew that the slender, youthful Harmony Sable was a Sky Realm physique tempering expert and could break Master Harford’s neck with a twist of those dainty fingers?
The gray-bearded man nodded. “I guess you wouldn’t, at that,” he muttered just loud enough for Dirge to hear; it was hardly surprising for the fellow to have noticed the disparity given his cultivation realm. “Okay, it’s one full strike between the blades, then, by their creators. Please come to the center of the stage and prepare to strike on my mark.”
Master Harford hefted his sword over his shoulder with a shrug and stomped over to the center of the stage, where Dirge met him, looking up at his face with a small smile and a nod as he brandished his own weapon.
“Prepare yourselves,” the man announced, and Harford lifted the blade from his shoulder and took a ready stance. “And… now!”
Harford’s blade lit up in with flame, just as Dirge had expected it would; concealing his smirk, Dirge ignited his own sword with two essences in tandem — metal and water — and the center of his weapon met the center of his opponent’s.
With a screech of metal, a flaming chunk of metal flew past Dirge’s shoulder. Master Harford, shocked, stared at the stump of the sword he had so masterfully forged, destroyed on the day of its creation.
The rest of the audience was dead silent as the flaming chunk of metal rebounded off the stage a couple times with a bang. The man at the podium waved a hand and the fire extinguished.
“Well,” the gray-bearded man noted dryly, “I guess that answers that, doesn’t it, Clodiana?”
Clodiana’s plump features were contorted in some mixture of emotions that included nothing positive, the skin of her face threatening to become as purple as a grape’s.
That, in itself, said all that needed to be said as to the winner of this contest.