Chapter 3: Babel tower

The training grounds of the Northern Water Tribe were bustling with life. It was the Exhibition Day, a rare occasion where masters showcased their skills for the tribe to see, reinforcing pride and inspiring the young. The icy amphitheater gleamed under the bright sun, refracting its light through the jagged edges and casting a dazzling array of blues and silvers across the arena. The air was cold, but excitement buzzed warm in the spectators' voices, a hum of anticipation blending with the distant roar of the sea.

I stood in the center, my breath steady as I surveyed the crowd. Families sat wrapped in heavy furs, children craning their necks for a better view, elders nodding sagely as they whispered to each other. All eyes were on us—on Pakku, the master waterbender known as a legend among his people, and on me, the outsider with whispers trailing in my wake.

Gaining respect, gaining more control of this water benders is something that needs to be done through different methods, some brutish but necessary and this is why I was here.

It was human nature to flock toward the more good-looking, the more charismatic, those who were strong.

Humans no matter what they may try to do were all one thing inside, they were all sheep who wished to give control, to be led by someone's better.

I had originally wished for something let's say less bombastic, a training session that would have bloomed into rumours I would slowly buy surely increase the effectiveness and reach.

My plans had needed however to change due to the one before me, due to my adversary, due to who could be called the supreme general of the army of this tribe, the one who was respected almost as much if not more than the royal Family, the water bending master Pakku.

He had said that a woman, especially a foreign one had no place in his ground, that her only place was the healing tent.

I had fallen on the equivalent of a misogynist in this world. His words had in truth angered me not because I was deemed by human societal norms as a woman but because a human had dared act as if it was superior to me.

I had asked him if there wasn’t a way to make him think otherwise and I had used my chains to influence him to accept, to whisper in his ears to make it a grandiose showing so that when I will crush him, more than being satisfied, my influence over the water tribe would grow.

Pakku’s expression was stoic, carved from the same ice that surrounded us. His eyes, however, spoke of challenge, of a test that needed proving. His gray hair and beard caught the sunlight, giving him a halo of silver that seemed fitting for the grandmaster of this cold realm.

“Outsider,” he called, his voice deep and commanding, amplified by the hush that fell over the crowd. “Are you ready to face a master of the North?”

The crowd stilled, breath held as though even the ice beneath us awaited my answer. I allowed myself a small smile, a calculated gesture of confidence. “I am.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mix of surprise and anticipation. They wanted to see what I could do, this mysterious figure who had appeared from nowhere, wielding power that defied their understanding.

Pakku wasted no time. With a sweep of his arms, he called the water from the nearby pools. It obeyed with a roar, rising in a spiral that caught the sun, droplets scattering light like shattered diamonds. He moved with practiced ease, the water following him as though tethered to his will. The crowd watched in awe as the twisting pillar surged toward me, a serpent born of ice and sea.

The ground beneath me vibrated with its force, and I felt the chill of it in my bones. But I didn’t flinch. I stepped forward, the ice under my boots cracking with the sharp report of tension. My fingers flexed as I summoned the water around me, not with the fluid grace of a bender but with the undeniable command of something deeper. It rippled and shifted, recognizing my touch, trembling as if in anticipation.

The serpentine strike met my defense, a wave that rose in a perfect arc, catching the sunlight for a heartbeat before crashing into Pakku’s assault. The impact sent a cold spray over us, tiny shards of ice pattering against my face and coat like needles. Gasps erupted from the stands as the water receded, leaving us unharmed but glistening with frost.

Pakku’s eyes narrowed, surprise flickering behind the steel of his gaze. He moved again, this time sending a series of rapid strikes—streams of water that whipped through the air, each one a razor-edged lash. The crowd leaned forward, eyes wide as they watched the master work.

I stepped to the side, body twisting as I evaded the first strike, then ducked, feeling the second pass so close that it caught a lock of my hair and sent it flying like a silken ribbon. The third I caught with my own stream, redirecting it upward in a spiral that glittered against the sky.

The movements were fluid, a dance where each step counted, each breath a strategy. Pakku was relentless, bending the ice beneath him as he advanced, shifting the ground into uneven spires that threatened to unbalance me. But I matched him, the water responding with an eagerness that belied my status as a stranger. It bent not just at my command but at my will, answering a call older and more insistent than mere bending.

“You learn quickly,” Pakku said, breath visible in the cold as he spoke. His voice carried, but there was no condescension, only the acknowledgment of a worthy opponent.

“Quicker than you’d like, I'm sure” I replied, my voice steady, eyes fixed on his. The crowd’s murmurs were a low thrum now, the awe in their tones unmistakable.

He responded with a burst of motion, drawing a wave that surged from beneath, lifting him high above the arena. From his vantage point, he thrust his hands downward, and the wave obeyed, crashing toward me in a cascade meant to subdue.

I pushed off the ice, leaping onto an arch of water I commanded mid-air, riding it as it curved around Pakku’s descending strike. The roar of the water was deafening, the cold spray biting at my cheeks, but exhilaration thrummed through my veins. I soared above him, the sun casting my shadow over his figure, and reached down, bending the streams to coil around his wave, disrupting its force and sending it slamming into the ground in a burst of shattered frost.

Pakku’s eyes, now wide with realization, met mine. For the first time, the crowd’s cheers faded into the background, the rush of power and the fight coursing through me. This was more than an exhibition—it was a declaration. Control was my gift, my truth.

Pakku dropped from his wave, landing with the poise of a predator, ice crackling beneath him. He wasted no time in his counterattack, bending the fragments of ice into whips that lashed out with crackling snaps. The air was thick with the sound of ice splintering and the rush of water, each move testing the limits of our skill and endurance.

The ice whips tore through the air, each crack a sonic boom that resonated deep in my chest. I ducked beneath one, the sharp snap passing inches above my head, the wind from its force stinging my cheeks. Another whipped toward my legs, and I leaped, bending the water beneath me into a platform that carried me upward in a seamless motion. The crowd gasped, the sound a ripple of awe that I barely registered over the rush of blood in my ears.

Pakku’s eyes gleamed with the fire of competition, his hands weaving through the air with the fluidity of a master, each motion birthing a new assault. The shards around him spun like a deadly halo, a storm of ice and intent that blurred as he advanced. He pressed forward, bending a jagged spear of ice and launching it with a flick of his wrist.

I met it head-on, the water coiling around my arm solidifying into a sleek, crystalline blade. The impact sent a shiver up my arm, vibrating through bone and muscle. The spear splintered on contact, fragments exploding outward like a burst of frost flowers. My heart thrummed faster. I relished this—the challenge, the test, the eyes of hundreds watching as I displayed mastery over the very elements they revered.

“Impressive,” Pakku shouted, voice carrying over the din. His movements accelerated, hands now a blur, summoning an arc of water that shimmered in the sunlight before freezing into a barrier of jagged ice.

So, he’s trying to control the space.

I narrowed my eyes, calculating his intent. The arena was shifting into his favor, the once-flat surface now riddled with traps and obstacles of his making. But control wasn’t his to keep.

I darted forward, each step on the ice a gamble, balancing on the razor's edge between speed and certainty. The surface cracked underfoot, betraying my path with splintering sounds. Pakku’s hands shot up, summoning the icy barrier to rush toward me like a tidal wave of blades.

“Adapt or fall, Outsider!” Pakku’s shout came as he pushed the wall forward, the ice grinding against itself with a deafening groan.

I grinned, the rush surging in my veins as I raised both arms. Water exploded upward from beneath the cracked surface, swirling into a spiral around me. The liquid shifted, then hardened into gleaming shields that clashed with Pakku’s assault. The shockwave from the collision sent a tremor through the arena, a ripple that knocked back the nearest onlookers. A chorus of gasps and shouts erupted from the stands.

I leaped again, twisting in midair as I bent the water around me into a coiling rope. It lashed out, snaking toward Pakku with a whip-crack. He sidestepped, the motion deceptively lazy, then bent a section of ice to rise beneath my feet, aiming to unbalance me mid-flight. But I was ready, shifting the trajectory of my landing to slide down the angled ice, momentum turning into speed.

Our eyes met, and I saw it there—the flicker of surprise, the realization that I was not just fighting but commanding.

Pakku’s expression hardened as he launched into a new sequence, bending the shattered ice into a cyclone that surrounded him. The shards spun faster, catching the sun’s light and creating a kaleidoscope of glinting chaos. He sent them outward, each fragment slicing through the air, a deadly dance of precision.

The cyclone came for me, whirling with the intent to overwhelm. I drew in a sharp breath, my senses narrowing down to the fragments' sharp edges, their trajectory, the timing. With a sharp twist of my fingers, I summoned the water to my side, molding it into a pair of curved scythes. The blades hummed, vibrating with the sheer force of the water held within their form. I spun, the world blurring into a rush of motion as I deflected the shards with sharp, deliberate movements.

Each clash of ice and water rang out, a symphony of battle that echoed across the arena. The air was cold and sharp, each breath burning as it entered my lungs. I felt the ache in my muscles, the strain of holding power at bay, and the thrill that came with pushing my limits.

Pakku moved in a flash, bending an arc of ice beneath his feet that propelled him toward me. His eyes, fierce and focused, locked onto mine as he struck. A column of ice shot up between us, splitting at the peak into a jagged wave. I had seconds, no—less.

I bent the water to cushion my leap, twisting my body sideways as the ice wave crashed past. My heart hammered as the force tugged at my coat, the cold lashing across exposed skin like needles. I landed in a crouch, skidding on the slick surface as I reached for the water once more, feeling it thrash and respond under my control.

“Clever,” he muttered, and for a heartbeat, I saw respect behind his stern gaze.

I didn't let it settle. With a burst of movement, I channeled the water around me into a vortex, spiraling upward, and thrust it forward with a force that cracked the ice below. It roared like a living beast, barreling toward him. Pakku’s stance shifted, solid as the glaciers themselves, and he countered with an arc that deflected the blow but left him sliding back.

The crowd erupted, the sound a roar of awe and disbelief.

He was breathing harder now, the exertion evident in the tightness around his mouth. I pushed to my feet, muscles coiled with readiness. The battle was shifting. Control was not just claimed; it was seized, tested, and reasserted. And Pakku, the master, knew it.

The arena had transformed into a battlefield of jagged ice and shimmering water. The sun blazed high above, refracting through the shattered ice into brilliant beams that split the space into shards of light and shadow. The roar of the crowd was a distant rumble, drowned out by the pounding of my pulse and the hiss of ice grinding against itself. Pakku’s eyes met mine, a deep well of determination that matched the chill seeping through the ground beneath us.

His hands moved again, a blur that summoned a storm of ice spears, each one poised and lethal, hovering like a constellation of frozen stars. He thrust his arms forward, and the barrage surged toward me, slicing through the air with a whistling keen enough to raise goosebumps.

I reacted instantly, water coiling around me like a serpent, solidifying into a rotating shield. The first spear struck, shattering against the liquid wall with a sound like a gunshot. The next, and the next, until the impact turned into a relentless symphony of destruction. My muscles tensed under the strain, the vibration of each collision thrumming up my arms and settling in my chest like an iron drumbeat.

Hold. Adapt.

I willed the water forward, breaking my shield apart and launching it in fragmented whips that slithered between the spears, finding gaps, twisting through Pakku’s storm. His eyes flicked in recognition as he sidestepped one, but another caught him off-guard, slicing through the fabric of his robe and drawing a thin line of blood across his bicep. His jaw tightened, and a flicker of something—a mix of frustration and excitement—crossed his face.

He pushed off the ground, bending a column of ice beneath his feet that rocketed him backward to gain distance. The movement left cracks snaking through the arena floor, each fissure a potential trap. His hands moved in wide, sweeping arcs, the shards of broken ice responding by lifting from the ground, hovering like the teeth of some spectral beast.

“Your control is formidable,” he said, each word sharp as the air between us. “But let’s see how you handle true mastery.”

He thrust his hands forward, and the ice shattered, the fragments exploding outward in a web of jagged spikes. The ground beneath me fractured, ice and water mingling in chaotic dance, seeking purchase, seeking blood. My breath misted in front of me, time stretching as I calculated my next move.

Adaptation is not enough. Take control.

I surged forward, bending the water around my feet into a current that propelled me faster than humanly possible. The spikes reached for me, sharp and gleaming, but I was already moving, weaving through them with liquid grace. One grazed my shoulder, a bite of cold and pain, but I ignored it. The ground beneath me heaved, a rolling wave of ice that Pakku manipulated to knock me off balance. I leaped, the water lifting me in an arc over the upheaval, bending to my will as if it craved my command.

The moment I landed, I pushed off again, driving toward him with the force of a storm. The air buzzed with energy, crackling under the sheer power clashing in the space between us. Pakku’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second—a slip, a tell—and I took it. I spun, the water lashing out from my arms like twin blades, slicing through the columns of ice he raised in defense.

They shattered, a cascade of glistening fragments that rained down in a crystalline storm. Pakku bent a shield just in time to deflect the final blow, but the force sent him skidding back, boots scraping over the ice, arms trembling with the strain.

I didn’t let up. The water around me rippled, responding not just to my commands but to the pulse of my intent, the unyielding pressure that resonated from within. It twisted, forming chains that darted toward Pakku with the speed of striking vipers.

He pivoted, deflecting one, then another, each movement a testament to his skill. But this was no longer a battle he controlled. His breath came quicker, clouds of white that dissipated in the cold air, eyes searching for a way to regain the upper hand.

There won’t be one.

I drew the water back, forming it into a towering wave that hovered over him, poised like the sword of Damocles. The crowd fell silent, the air thick with the weight of anticipation. Pakku met my eyes, a final flash of defiance flaring before he shifted, bending his last reserve of strength into a thin, sharp spear of ice. He lunged forward, hurling it with a roar that echoed in the arena.

Time slowed, each heartbeat a drum of inevitability. I moved without hesitation, sweeping my arm in a fluid arc that guided the wave down, enveloping the spear in its crushing embrace and swallowing it whole. The wave crashed over Pakku, splintering into smaller torrents that wrapped around him, binding his arms to his sides, pressing him down to one knee.

He gasped, chest heaving, eyes wide with exhaustion—and respect.

“Yield,” I said, my voice cutting through the roar of water and wind, carrying to every corner of the arena.

Pakku bowed his head, the fight slipping from his body as he nodded. “I yield,” he whispered, the words echoing louder than any roar of the crowd.

The water receded at my will, pooling back into the cracked ground as silence wrapped around us. The arena stood still, every figure frozen in awe. My heart thundered, each beat resonating with the victory that settled deep in my core.

I glanced at Pakku, who met my gaze and I allowed a full wide smile to bloom on my face. I wonder how he would react If he knew this was the first time I ever battled used Water bending.

Control was not given; it was taken, earned through will and the unyielding pulse of power. I was control, I was conquest and no Babel tower could reach my heavens.