Stormforge (Rise To Omniscience Book 5) Read online

  How she’d grown so powerful or how she was so much stronger than her brother Shul, he had no idea, but it was clear from the way she carried herself that she was someone important. When he’d fought her back at the academy, he’d nearly killed her by accident during their fight. And, up until today, he’d had no idea that she and Shul were anything more than commoners in the East.

  However, he’d gleaned a small bit of insight when he’d turned to appraise her. It was something that didn’t often happen, though when it did, Morgan found that he could learn something about the person, either by their mannerisms, cores, or some intrinsic part of their nature. He assumed this must be due to his Aura Sense growing stronger, as his rise to omniscience progressed. Though, with the removal of the level limit, he now had to wonder if that was even still a possibility.

  As Hilda walked past him and went to stand by the Queen’s side, he was reminded that he had yet to answer her question.

  “No, the monster I was talking about was Arnold, the head of the Pinnacle King’s army. Should the Pinnacle King make an appearance himself, you wouldn’t have survived even half as long,” he said flatly.

  “Why does that name sound familiar?” Le’vine asked.

  “He was one of the competitors in the tournament,” Hilda replied, getting in her answer before Morgan could. “Now, I get why you’re here if what everything you’ve said is true,” she said, turning back to face him. “The only question I have is why half the palace is in ruins and seventy percent of our strongest fighters are either out cold or too injured to move.”

  Morgan shrugged.

  “They were in my way, and the palace layout is confusing.”

  “That’s hardly a legitimate answer,” Hilda replied, narrowing her eyes.

  “Well, had your Queen simply granted me an audience instead of playing petty games, none of this would have happened.”

  Hilda looked back at Le’vine, as though wanting to confirm what he said. The Queen shrugged, seemingly unapologetic for what she’d done.

  “Why should I have let someone who randomly showed up at my gates have an audience? For all I knew, Katherine had sent him here to assassinate me.”

  “And you thought the gate guards could stop someone Katherine sent?” Hilda asked with a raised eyebrow.

  To Morgan’s great surprise, Le’vine actually looked away, fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat. By now, Morgan’s intuition and insight had upgraded Hilda’s importance in this Kingdom. She was clearly either related or a very close advisor to the Queen if she could talk to her that way and get away with it. None of the other guards said anything, which further solidified his assurance in the matter.

  Seeing as she wasn’t going to get an answer, Hilda let out a long sigh, then turned back to face Morgan.

  “I get that you had to come to meet with the Queen on your Queen’s orders, but that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. If there’s going to be any chance of an alliance, you’re going to have to pay for the damages.”

  So that’s why Katherine gave me so much money!

  The epiphany hit Morgan like a ton of bricks. Knowing him, Katherine had expected something like this to happen and had prepared beforehand by giving him a crapton of platinum coins.

  “If I pay, will you join us?” he asked, already reaching for his pack.

  “Not so fast,” Le’vine said, cutting him off with a chop of her hand.

  Now that Hilda was here, she seemed far more confident in herself. Morgan no longer sensed any hesitation or fear from the woman, who was in total control once more.

  “We have a tradition here in the East,” she continued. “One that has held for millennia.”

  “It’s the fighting thing, right?” Morgan asked, already shrugging out of his pack and seeing where this was going.

  “It’s not just ‘some fighting thing!’” Le’vine snapped. “It is a sacred tradition of our people. After all, how are we to know that allying ourselves with the North is even in our best interest? If you cannot prove your strength, then we may be better off going at it ourselves.”

  “That’s fine,” Morgan said, pulling his arm across his chest to begin stretching. “I’ll fight anyone you want.”

  He was confident in his victory, even against Hilda, who was roughly the same rank as him. She was still a full stage behind him in her ability, and he’d defeated her once before. He had no doubt he could do it again.

  “You sure seem confident,” Hilda said, stepping forward. “There are rules to this sort of combat that must be observed.”

  “Like what?” Morgan asked, wondering if he’d be forced to fight wearing some weird outfit or have to fight with only his legs.

  “This is a contest of pure strength,” Le’vine said impetuously. “Therefore, there is to be no use of skills of any kind. The first to strike what would be considered a deathblow on a normal human is declared the victor. Aside from that, there are no other rules. The fight will continue until that single condition is met.”

  Morgan’s brow furrowed at that, his eyes tracking Hilda as she moved across the room. Judging by the way she moved, she was built for speed — the almost lithe, catlike stride making her muscles ripple subtly beneath her tight uniform. If Le’vine thought this fight would favor Hilda because of that, she’d be highly mistaken.

  Of all his Attributes, Morgan’s Agility was the highest. And at his Advanced stage, he doubted there was a super alive, Intermediate of otherwise, who could keep up with him. This fight would be over in the blink of an eye, with him being declared the victor. When it was over, he’d get them to agree to join the North and be on his way before dinner.

  Hilda turned around once she’d reached the far side of the room, leaning lightly on one of her legs and placing a hand on her hip. She looked poised, confident, and ready to fight, though posing seemed sort of pointless. At a gesture from their Queen, the guards moved to form a perimeter, which Morgan assumed were the bounds.

  Morgan had no doubt that Le’vine would play by the rules and not show favoritism. This was a sacred tradition, and she wouldn’t sully her image before her subjects just to be petty. Sure, it seemed to him that she was either too young or impulsive to be running a kingdom, but from what he’d seen thus far, it seemed she was doing a pretty good job. If they could ally with the North, their chances of winning would be increased exponentially.

  Once the guards had moved into position, Le’vine rose from her throne and held her arms out wide.

  “We here all witness the battle between Morgan, ambassador of the North, and Hilda, champion of the East. The fight will go until the first deathblow. Should Morgan win, he will pay fines equaling up to one-hundred and fifteen percent of all damages, and we will sign a temporary alliance to fight back the threat of the Pinnacle King in the North.

  “Should Hilda win, Morgan will leave in shame, never to show his face in these halls again. The East will not join the North, but rather ally ourselves with the other Kingdoms and challenge this monster on our own. Are these terms acceptable?”

  Morgan nodded, agreeing to pay the interest on the damage he’d caused. It was only fair. He had broken a lot of stuff, and besides, it wasn’t his money, so it didn’t really bother him.

  “Then, without further ado, you may begin!”

  ***

  Though outwardly calm, inwardly, Le’vine was cheering. Morgan may have been a supermage, and a powerful one at that, but Hilda had something he didn’t. She had a secret weapon known only between the two of them. Hilda had advanced her ability, making her infinitely tougher and faster, and giving her greater control over her body and spirit.

  She’d carefully examined the supermage before the fight, noting the lack of rings in his pupils, a feature he did not share with Hilda. The two red rings symbolized her strength, and she’d gotten her first set of rings when moving to the second stage of Evolved, and again when moving to Intermediate.

  Even now, as she watched the two of them squaring off,
she could see how much better Hilda was moving. The opponents were circling at the far edges of their makeshift ring, nearly thirty yards apart. Though the distance may have seemed excessive, Le’vine knew that they’d be able to cover those distances near instantaneously.

  Hilda was a super, her built to handle hand-to-hand combat, while Morgan would have the same traits as a supermage. Had this been a fight of skills and destructive capability, she might have had some doubt, though she’d still have put her money on Hilda. With the ritual rules in place, Hilda couldn’t lose.

  She watched as Hilda feinted forward, seemingly surprising Morgan with her speed. Morgan’s reaction was less than impressive, delayed by three-tenths of a second. While that may not have seemed like much, when it came to power like theirs, a tiny margin of error like that could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

  Le’vine noted the small smirk beginning to play around Hilda’s lips as she continued circling, making small lunges and keeping Morgan on the defensive. The supermage seemed far more wary now, hunching his shoulders and keeping his eyes locked on Hilda’s arms. This was a huge mistake, and one that the Queen knew Hilda would take advantage of.

  The first rule in hand-to-hand was never to stay focused on any one part of your opponent’s body. Rather, you should keep your awareness open, so you could see any attack coming. It was then, after the sixth feint, that Le’vine noticed Hilda’s muscles bunching ever so subtly. It was such a subtle movement that Morgan hadn’t even noticed with his gaze fixed on her arms.

  This fight is already as good as over, Le’vine thought, sitting back on her throne.

  As though it were the signal to really begin, Hilda shot forward, fist cocked back to deliver the finishing blow to a shocked Morgan.

  19

  Morgan had never been much of an actor, but it was clear by the way Hilda was moving that she didn’t realize how strong he was.

  And why should she?

  She would likely assume that while he was a supermage, he was only at the Basic level, due to the lack of rings in his irises. What was also clear was that Hilda, just like Shul, didn’t recognize him. His appearance had drastically changed since their academy days and seeing as she’d only fought him that one time, there was no way she could.

  The Morgan she’d fought was a scrawny boy with only a super ability. His eyes had been silver back then, and his features had been a lot more gaunt. His muscles hadn’t been nearly as developed, nor had he looked quite as bestial as he did now. He still appeared human enough, but upon closer examination, some of the finer details would become obvious.

  Reintroductions can wait until after the fight, Morgan thought, noting Hilda preparing to feint.

  This was where the acting part came in. He had to lull them into a false sense of security. He needed to make them think he was less powerful than he actually was, and to do that, he’d need to be ever so slightly inept. He had to be careful, though, because if he pretended to be too slow, it would make them suspicious. So, when Hilda feinted, Morgan reacted just a fraction of a second slower.

  Had this been a real fight, he wouldn’t have even bothered, as he’d spotted the feint from a mile away. But this was about putting on a show, and he was determined to put on a convincing enough performance to win quickly. He was vaguely aware of the confidence practically oozing off both Hilda and Le’vine.

  She’d likely seen what he’d done to Shul, and though she was keeping a level head at the moment, he had no doubt that Hilda wanted to punch his face in. Still, she kept up the act of feinting and retreating for a couple of minutes, testing his defenses. Morgan did his best to look nervous, hunching his shoulders and raising his fists. Then, the real attack came.

  Hilda exploded forward, angling to his left. Normally, this would be a good tactic, as she didn’t know his fighting style. As most people tended to be right-handed, going for a perceived slower opponent’s left should lead to certain victory. Luckily, Morgan had long ago compensated for that weakness and could fight just as well left-handed.

  She couldn’t have known that, so she took a hard swing for the side of his neck. Morgan allowed her inside his guard. This was a risky move, but one that would benefit him, should he manage to pull this off. The whole point of this challenge was to deal a hypothetical deathblow, so all Hilda needed to do was strike him once in a vital area to win. However, she seemed not to realize that he only needed a single hit to win too.

  As the chop neared his neck, Morgan stepped forward, placing his foot at an angle. Then, at the last possible moment, he pivoted out of the way and aimed a blow at the back of her neck. It was an area that most people wouldn’t target, especially in one on one fighting, and that was why Morgan had chosen it.

  He was surprised when Hilda neatly slipped the attack, managing to dodge the lightning-fast blow and return with one of her own: a knee to his stomach. Morgan had no choice but to block this one, slapping it aside with his right hand and leaving his face unguarded. Hilda took advantage of that and brought her elbow across in a short hook.

  Morgan’s only option here was to retreat, so he leaped back, avoiding the blow and giving himself some room. But Hilda was right on top of him, keeping up the pressure, and this time, Morgan actually found himself on the back foot. No bluffs and no holding back as he desperately moved to counter her rapid series of attacks.

  He simply couldn’t understand how he could be losing. It wasn’t like Hilda was any faster than him. If anything, she seemed to be slower than him. Her attacks didn’t hit nearly as hard as his could, yet he was still losing ground. His brows furrowed as Hilda pressed her advantage, swinging for his nose, neck, jaw, temple, and throat in rapid succession.

  Morgan could barely keep up, and he felt his heart rate begin to increase. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fought someone like this, and though he was technically losing, it was the most excitement he’d had in a while.

  Hilda lashed out unexpectedly with a kick, and this time, Morgan couldn’t react quickly enough. The blow grazed past his knee, throwing him slightly off balance. Hilda’s next attack was unexpected, as well. Morgan, expecting her to kick again, raised his hands defensively while trying to maintain his balance. In a feat of control that impressed even him, Hilda twisted her entire body around, grounding her back leg and striking out with a powerful punch that connected squarely into his midsection.

  Morgan blew out a long breath as he was sent staggering back, now completely off-balance.

  Well, that hurt!

  Hilda was right on him once more, pressing him with a barrage of punches and kicks. The attack on his midsection would not be counted as a deathblow, so she’d have to keep going, but she had been the first to connect squarely. In the entire forty seconds they’d been going at it, Morgan had failed to land even so much as a grazing blow, something which he found to be astonishing.

  No one, not even Samuel, had been able to avoid his attacks for this long, so how was Hilda doing it?

  While he worked desperately to figure that out, Hilda continued backing him around the ring, her attacks coming faster and faster as Morgan’s reactions slowed. He knew that if he didn’t do something in the next few seconds, his defenses would be overwhelmed and he’d lose, so he needed to come up with something, and fast.

  Morgan began trying to disrupt her rhythm. When she threw a punch, he twisted his body and took it, while returning with one of his own. However, after several failed attempts, Morgan changed strategies. He tried moving into grappling range to try and take her down. She foiled that as well.

  As he continued to exhaust one strategy after the next, to no avail, Morgan began to feel something in the pit of his stomach, something he hadn’t felt during a fight for as long as he could remember. At first, he wasn’t even sure what it was, but the longer he backed away, the more certain he became that what he was feeling was fear.

  Fighting had always been about testing himself, to become stronger and better at what he d
id. To continuously improve. However, with the fate of his entire Kingdom on the line, he realized what losing here would cost him. This time, when his heart rate increased further, he knew it wasn’t a good thing.

  This fight was no longer enjoyable, and Morgan’s previous grin began to slip as he scrambled to find some way to victory. Hilda was relentless, pressing him harder by the second. Her face was pinched in concentration, though her movements remained fluid and unpredictable. Normally, at this point in a fight, Morgan would have figured out his opponent’s fighting style and assessed their weaknesses. Hilda was different, though. Every time he was sure he’d figured out the pattern of her movements and moved to counter an opening he’d exploited, she’d immediately change up her style, forcing him to start all over again.

  Sweat began beading his brow as he narrowly avoided a chop to the side of his neck, only to walk directly into a knee aimed at his face. His crossed arms caught the blow, shoving her back, and his left hand came up to block the follow-up aimed at his temple. Growling, Morgan struck out at Hilda’s fist, attempting to overpower her. She clearly didn’t have his raw physical strength, so if he couldn’t beat her with skill or speed, then he’d have to simply bowl his way through.

  Except, when he committed to the attack, Hilda pivoted out of the way, just as she had previously. Morgan scrambled to recover, throwing his leg back, aiming at head height, to try and counter Hilda as she went for his spine. However, his foot met only empty air. For just a split-second, he was confused, then a hard punch landed in the center of his spine, the pain radiating down to his legs and stunning him for just a fraction of a second.

  That was all Hilda needed though, and before the blow even connected with his temple, knocking him flat on his face, Morgan knew that he’d lost.

  As he laid there, completely stunned, he heard Le’vine’s voice, filled with mocking scorn.