Scroll 1: prologue
The courtyard was already noisy before the first man had struck the wall, and when the stone broke everybody flinched not only at the sound but also at the thought of how much power it needed to break something like that as the dust rose in the torchlight like a silent sigh and the air was filled with the smell of the mixture of scorched leather, metal polish and the slight sting of blood.
One hand in his pocket and the other hanging loosely on a chipped practice blade with which he was fiddling with, the man in the middle was more bored than battle-ready, his eyes moving slowly as though he were strolling through a market instead of being surrounded by armed opponents and yet the tip of the blade was against the dirt and every man around him was watching it like a venomous snake that might strike without warning.
You going to swing or stand there breathing he said in a voice that was flat but cut through the noise like a knife and nobody made the first move because above them a worn banner flapped in the night with its edges frayed and burned and the moonlight brushed his face in a way that made it hard to tell whether he was smirking or not caring at all.
A tall fighter on the left, with pounding boots and clanking armor, made a direct charge to smash the target but the man in the middle did not evade but stepped forward and in the twinkling of an eye there was a sharp glint of metal and the tearing of cloth before the charging man froze with his knees buckling then dropped his sword and fell with eyes rolling back like something inside him had been switched off.
Gasps moved through the circle as someone at the back whispered "That's not possible not without" and the man in the middle turned his head toward the sound as though it was right next to him and said "Without what" with a tone so casual it made the voice vanish and then a shift in the wind brought the faint scent of kitchen smoke across the courtyard which he breathed in once before lifting his blade and saying "Next."
The air tightened as the fighters adjusted their stance some gripping their spears so hard the knuckles went pale while others locked shields against their arms and a few slid quietly toward the rear while on the balcony above elders in embroidered robes leaned forward with their faces hidden in shadow though the silver chains at their waists caught the torchlight and a single deep drumbeat rolled through the space as across the yard a halberd bearer struck the ground twice making the earth tremble from weight and timing and someone muttered about Stone Lock Footwork before the man in the center moved.
He did not pull back out of the trap but leaned into it and the halberd came down with its curved blade flashing like a sliver of moon and in that moment his wrist flicked and though the chipped blade was far too short to block it was suddenly not where it had been and the halberd stopped in mid strike not blocked not parried just stopped and then slipped sideways out of the hands of the wielder as though gravity had changed its mind and when it hit the ground the man kicked it saying You dropped something.
Two other warriors came charging in one high with a spear and the other low with a sweeping cut but he stepped between them like passing through a doorway and his chipped blade passed between the two weapons without catching so there was no ringing clash or flash of sparks only the dull sound of bodies striking the ground and above one of the elders said You see this yes that is not but another broke in with It is he it must be and at that the man in the middle looked up and smiled but it was not a friendly smile.
There was a tremendous vibration in the courtyard and the torch brackets rattled and warriors on the fringe moved aside enough to allow a slowly increasing number of men to enter in dozens and then in scores and their feet were like the beat of a drum and the ground shook and blades and spears flashed in the moonlight and the elders on the balcony sprang to their feet and someone shouted below, Form the Hundred Circle Formation and the ground shook with the thud of boots and the clashing of shields and the circles of steel closed about him and there was not a gap.
He rolled his shoulders like someone waking from a nap and said "Finally" before the first wave rushed in as his chipped blade rose in a loose diagonal slash that should have touched nothing yet the entire front rank jerked together as their weapons dipped toward the dirt and their bodies went slack and when the second wave hesitated just for a breath he raised his free hand and curled his fingers so a gust of wind dragged the torchlight sideways stretching shadows across the courtyard until they broke away from their owners and twisted like living coils into armor joints pulling men from their feet as short sharp screams filled the air and above an elder cried "Impossible that's Forbidden" but the man was already moving stepping on a collapsing fighter's back to vault forward ten meters in a heartbeat as his chipped blade blurred and shields split while armor peeled like fruit skin.
When the last man fell silence pressed over the courtyard as the lone figure stood with one foot resting on a fallen spear and his blade dripping nothing not blood not light not anything before he looked to the balcony and asked "Is that all" and then everything froze.
Ethan Cole stared at the cracked phone screen on the floor as the cliffhanger mocked him and groaned rolling onto his back while a cup of noodles tipped and cold broth crept dangerously close to his math notes as the ceiling bulb buzzed and the loading wheel spun without mercy while he muttered about the shadow stealing hundred man vault scene cutting off mid fight and when his phone beeped low battery he sighed and admitted that if he were in that world he would probably last five minutes at best and outside the rain began to tap against the window.