The Master of Uradan

Rohan opened his eyes. Once again, he had the same dream. He felt that each time he would be knocked off, he would have to make the same damn dream. Maybe the red threads transforming in a cocoon were there to remind him how weak he truly was?

"At least, you're waking up!" The powerful voice filled the mind of the young warrior. There was only one person with such a voice out there.

"Barulf…" Rohan straightened his back with difficulties before he asked the question he had on his mind. "What exactly happened, did this guy knock me out?"

"Yes!" The big man simply answered with an overjoyed expression. Was it that satisfying to see him being crushed in front of millions of people? Rohan suddenly felt like punching him.

"This fight was simply incredible! Most of the time, Farkan does not fight against his opponent, or at least not this way! It has been several years now that I haven't seen him having such a fight, it was spectacular!"

"What do you mean he doesn't fight this way? Do you mean he doesn't take pleasure in bullying his opponent each time he is fighting, and he only does so with me? Do I have something on my face that made him feel like it?" Rohan felt the world was an unfair one sometimes. he had been crushed, purely. There was only one rank difference between them, but this rank was as far as the earth and the sky.

He couldn't even understand how it was possible to be this strong as a rank 6 Intermediate Warrior. He would become one in only ten months or, and reaching such power in only so few months made him feel the apprehension.

From what Barulf explained to him, This Farkan, the leader of the strongest clan living in the internal ring never used his sword to fight. Firstly because almost no one wanted to find themselves against him, and secondly because those who dared to do so didn't make him feel interested.

But it was actually easy to understand. How many years had he participated at those gatherings, and how many rank 5 Beginner Warriors there were? Those who dared to fight him were the same ones fighting him each year he couldn't care less about them. The sight of fresh meat made him feel like playing a bit. That should be the reason.

Rohan decided to stand up and walked out of the tent after talking a bit with Barulf. It was already night, and the stars were shining far away in the sky. There were no clouds that night, showing off this greater world.

The members of the Blackwolf clan walked around the encampment, with some meat on skewers. They were surely making a feast. The instant they saw Rohan, they headed toward him and struck up a discussion.

A few minutes later, Rohan walked toward the fire and sat down next to Deidros.

He was looking at the sky like always. Since the time Rohan had followed this clan, it wasn't hard to understand these people anymore, and Deidros was the one dreaming about a better future the most. All he wanted to do was to leave this desert, to leave those Barren Lands.

He was born here, he had walked here, but that didn't mean he wanted to die here. There was nothing on these lands, nothing but death. He could only dream for now, but one day maybe, his clan would be able to live on the other side.

"Thank you Rohan, for Tarag." His eyes were still glued on the sky, but he didn't miss the opportunity to thank his friend.

"No problem, I didn't like him," Rohan answered simply as he saw the other members of the clan nodding their heads to him. He simply smiled back.

Since the attack from those dracasses, he had felt like being a part of their clan. He was sure that he could even decide to live with them from now on, and they would be happy to welcome them.

The prospect was indeed interesting for Rohan. But he couldn't do so. He had too many things to do, and he would have to go back at some point.

"By the way, Rohan, you are ranked fifty. Congratulations, your strength should be higher than that, but luck wasn't on your side."

'Luck was never on my side.' Rohan thought. Before he could answer anything, Deidros continued.

"The magical water will be given tomorrow. the top fifty will climb up the mountain to reach the source, it is a great honor!" He turned his face toward the young warrior. A bitter smile appeared on his face.

It was so easy to read the face of this young man, that he was even comical. He could feel it, as well as everyone from the clan. No one was stupid. This warrior wasn't simply there to watch how beautiful the mountain was.

The voice of a woman deadly appeared on the side. "Whatever you will do in there, do not be rash with our mountain. Otherwise, I will chase you and stab you with my spear, damn warrior from the other side."

Daina simply strolled toward her tent, without caring any more about this warrior. For a curious reason, they all had the strange sensation that this night was the last one they would see Rohan. This one could only smile as he watched this woman walk away. If she was born in the north if she had been a warrior, how strong would she be?

Deidros stood up as well. "The feast had already begun without you as no one was sure if you would wake up, I'll bring you back some meat."

"Sure, thanks." Rohan couldn't but sigh. It was so easy to bond with strangers, that he felt his resolve weaken for a short time. He couldn't do so. Whatever will happen tomorrow would be the end of their relationship, as he would probably become the enemy of the Barren Lands.

While he was thinking about the potential events of tomorrow, a little girl sat next to him. It was Elena, with her blonde hair flowing to the side. She still had an apathetic face, but her eyes were bright as she stared at Rohan.

"Warrior Rohan, " Her voice was soft and clear, but also a bit raspy as she hadn't talked in a while. "I want to become strong as you."

Rohan stared blankly at this little girl. It was simply a declaration made by a child, with her clear childish voice, and her petite face watching at him. But those eyes weren't the ones a child was supposed to be. He saw someone else in these eyes for a second, someone he knew well.

It wasn't the simple gibberish of a child randomly talking. It was like an oath she made to him, as well as herself. He couldn't refuse her. He didn't have the right to that.

A lightning bolt suddenly crashed in his mind. His master Horim had said to him that he was able to manipulate the mana that wasn't him. From his experience, he thought that this was indeed the case.

Then if it was true, couldn't he help someone to transform into a warrior?