Savage Divinity

Hiding a bloody stump behind my back, I lean out the half-opened door to find the entire room of Experts turned towards me with questioning gazes. While I don’t specifically know who all these beardies and halfies are, they’re important enough to have their tea poured by a Legate which means it should probably greet everyone politely so they don’t take offence, but ain’t nobody got time for that. Pretending I don’t notice their stares, I make eye contact with Taduk, who’s standing between the seated Guan Suo and dainty-mannered half-bull. “Teacher, your aid is required.”

I wonder... Did the Legate pour Taduk’s cup of tea? Probably not seeing how my teacher doesn’t even warrant a seat. Psh. Experts. If any of them ever need Healing, Taduk should turn them away at the door, but he won’t. As he rushes over with teacup in hand, I notice the heavy bags beneath his eyes and the enervated slump of his shoulders, drained by his efforts to save the Monk yet still soldiering on without question. Once he’s through the door, I shut it behind him and scurry to keep up with my speedy teacher, grabbing his wrist with my remaining hand and Sending, “Hang on. I think I have a way to save him.”

“...What happened to your hand?”

Flushing with embarrassment, I explain, “The Monk passed out and I couldn’t get free. It’s fine, I’ll reattach it later.” Assuming I can finagle it out of Makalaha’s grip. Malapaka? I’m never gonna get it right, so I’m gonna call him the Monk, at least until I meet another monk. “I have some Heavenly Energy saved up, not a lot, but more than nothing. Would that help?”

“Doubtful.” After glancing over the trapped and dismembered hand, Taduk takes my stump and inspects it. “Even with a limitless flood of Heavenly Energy, I can’t Heal faster than the substance replicates. Forget about reattaching your hand, it’s already been compromised.” Though I see no black gunk on the severed extremity, I trust Taduk’s judgment and thank the Heavens I was feeling too magnanimous to cut the Monk’s hand off instead. His brow furrowed in worry, Taduk pulls me away from the Monk and mutters, “It’s even more insidious than I’d thought. Was the substance hiding its full capabilities earlier or has it reached a point of critical mass?”

“Teacher, focus please.” As much as I’d like to know if the scary black goop is sentient, there’s more important things to worry about, like keeping the Monk alive. If Heavenly Energy isn’t enough, then maybe I can cleanse the gunk with Water-Chi, assuming it’s made from Demon Ichor like I hypothesized. With no time to explain, I Send, “Is it safe to touch him?”

Though I can see he’s curious, Taduk knows time is of the essence and doesn’t ask questions. “Safer not to, but if you must, then be ready to amputate your hand at a moment’s notice.” With an apologetic shrug, he adds, “I’d do it for you, but I don’t carry a blade.”

Right, unlike that sadist Tokta, who loves cutting people apart so much he has a surgical knife as a Spiritual Weapon, my teacher is a Medical Saint, a man who refuses to harm even his most hated nemesis, a Bicorn Bunny. “Understood. I’ll be careful.” Unfortunately, I have yet to learn how to control my Water-Chi after it leaves my body, so I’m gonna hafta touch the goop infected Monk to cleanse him. Reaching out with my only remaining hand, I recoil as an important fact crosses my mind. “Erm, I can’t amputate my infected hand without a second hand to hold my sword.”

“Yes, good point.” Pondering the question for a half second, Taduk’s tired eyes light up and he Sends, “Use your foot. Problem solved.”

After kicking off my boots and remembering to roll up my pants, I lean against Taduk for balance and hover my bare foot above the Monk’s stomach, where the concentration of gunk is highest. I really don’t want to lop my foot off too. Just because I do it often doesn’t make it any less unpleasant. Growing appendages is the worst, since the pain of raw, exposed nerves firing on all cylinders can’t be dulled until they acclimate and settle down, but it’s a pain I’m more than willing to accept if it keeps the Monk alive. Swallowing my fear and trepidation, I close my eyes and prepare for the task at hand, unsure if I’m up to snuff.

Honestly? Probably not. For starters, Water-Chi feels and behaves differently from normal Chi, but it’s hard to place exactly how. Denser, perhaps, with more inertia. The difference isn’t massive, but regular Chi flows easily with a thought, as does Water-Chi, but the latter feels like it has more resistance as it moves through my body, or it has more weight to its passing, but it might be my overactive imagination at work. What isn’t my imagination is how Water-Chi resists or ignores my commands. It won’t adhere to the surface of my sword and form a whirling, razor-sharp edge through Honing, nor will it infuse my muscles with vigor and potency through Reinforcement. In similar fashion, I can’t use Water-Chi to Amplify, Lighten, Deflect, or any of the other plethora of uses I have for regular Chi. In fact, thus far, I’ve only found one use for Water-Chi which wouldn’t be considered a party trick, and that’s cleansing the dormant Spectres lurking about my Natal Palace.

Which brings me to the second reason I don’t think I can do this. While I might be able to cleanse the Demonic Goop from the Monk’s body, I have no way to control it while carrying out the task. Once the Water-Chi leaves my body, it reverts into Heavenly Energy and mundane water, which means if I want to save the Monk, then I need to figure out how to control Chi externally, and fast.

No amount of positive mental attitude will make this better. The Monk’s probably doomed, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Wait… Maybe I don’t have to use Chi externally. Back in Sanshu, Blobby hid in my Spiritual Body and used me as a delivery system to get into Yo Ling’s Natal Palace. Could I do the same with my Water-Chi and the Monk? Pulling my foot back, I ask Taduk where the lowest area of Demon Gunk concentration is and laugh despite how serious the situation is when I hear the answer. Shifting aside, I mutter a silent apology and plop my bare foot on the Monk’s bald head, praying he’ll understand the urgent need after I save his life.

Don’t worry, it’s totally clean. I took a bath before the party, with soap and everything.

Reach for Balance and fall forward into the Void. The curtain parts and I find myself in an unfamiliar plane. The sun shines overhead and a massive statue sits cross-legged before me, each toe wider than I am tall and its face shrouded in shadow, a lean, muscular sculpted defender. Clothed in bright yellow monk robes, the statue’s hands are folded in quiet contemplation while a loud, resonating baritone chants rhythmically in the background, a sound which is both soothing and ominous at the same time. Aside from the statue, there’s little else of note. The floor is packed dirt and the landscape bare and empty aside from two visible pillars off in the distance, and I assume there are at least two more on the other side of the statue, holding back the writhing darkness of the void.

Wait a second... Writhing?

No matter how hard I strain my eyes, I’m unable to confirm my horrified suspicions and I don’t know if I should be annoyed or thankful. Instead of uselessly staring at the nothingness, I set out to find the Monk. Heading right because one direction is as good as the other, I run as quickly as my Spiritual legs can carry me, reminding myself the whole time I don’t need to breathe so there’s no way I’m out of breath. Feet ‘thumping’ against the packed dirt as the ‘wind’ rustles through my hair, a quick glance at the statue tells me I’m not actually going anywhere, still standing dead centre between its toes. Maybe I am moving and the statue is bigger than I thought, so it feels like I’m not moving at all. Then again, who’s to say the Monk is even in here? I remember noting that my ‘Brother’ persona disappeared every time I went to sleep, but I’m not sure if I should draw lessons from my schizophrenic episodes.

Still futilely running in place, because why not, I yell, “Hello?” Dammit... what’s his name again? Right, Mahakala. Say it just like that. Ma. Ha. Ka. La. It’s easy. Four syllables is nothing, who cares how similar they are? It shouldn’t be a problem for a big-brained hero like you. Don’t think about screwing up, say it with confidence and you’re good. “Maha-ph-shll?” I mumble, wincing at my abject failure. “It’s me, Falling Rain. I’m here to save you, but I need your help.”

The booming chanting drowns out my voice, so loud I can barely hear myself yell much less expect anyone else to hear me. That said, this isn’t the real world and physics need not apply, so shouting probably isn’t the way to go about it. Thinking back on my encounter with Pong-Pong, I try to remember exactly what I did to catch his attention. I was standing on his shell without knowing it was a shell, wondering why the water was back in my Natal Palace. Then I thought ‘fuck it,’ and sat down to meditate and... Pong Pong sensed and found me.

Slowing my steps, I face the statue and sit down, mostly because I don’t feel comfortable staring at the encroaching darkness. I swear it’s not paranoia, and despite not having any empirical evidence to support my findings, I can feel it closing in around me, a menacing, ponderous presence which means me harm. Shit, I didn’t think things through well enough. It’s entirely possible the Monk’s not in here, on account of being passed out or not being crazy and leaving split personalities in his Natal Palace. If he’s not in here, then I might be stuck, which means I get to find out what happens if I’m still here when the darkness arrives.

Nothing good, because when is it ever? Just once, I’d like the ominous darkness to hold something nice, like fluffy bunnies or gorgeous, sex-starved, adventurous women.

Concentrate. Time constraints and impending doom, remember?

Quashing my growing urge to panic, I close my eyes, take a deep breath (despite not needing to breathe) and settle in to meditate. The Energy of the Heavens flows into my Core to be converted into Chi, a process I’ve experienced thousands of times before, but this time it feels... wrong, as if I’m drawing something wicked and unclean into my being, unpleasant and unpalatable to the soul. My meditative trance ends with a pained gasp as I open my eyes and shudder, trying to scrub the memory of filth and contamination from my mind. With nothing else to focus on, my mind fixates on the measured cadence of the chanting as I disgorge the wrongness from my soul. Time becomes meaningless as I lose myself in the chant, and when I come to my senses once more, I find myself chanting along as the wrongness dissipates, my voice deeper and more resonant than I’d ever thought possible. The words are still gibberish, but I can follow along and know what comes next without thinking.

What’s going on? Did I just learn a new skill? Battle Chant. No, Spell Song. No, Sanity Hymn! Ah, that’s stupid. Whatever, I’ll figure out the name later.

The silence is deafening as the chanting comes to an abrupt end. The shadows shift and the world darkens, but thankfully not the pitch-black darkness of the inhabited void. Raising my head, I find the statue looming above me as it studies my tiny form, its face still shrouded by inviolable darkness. There are no eyes to gaze into or expressions to read, so I put on my best smile and wave at the behemoth, kicking myself for not realizing it sooner. “Hi Mahakala.” Nailed it! “I’m here to save you.”

“Here to save me are you?” the Monk asks, his voice impassive and composed as always. “You’ve come to whisper your lies and offer me salvation? A chance to live with power untold waiting only for me to reach out and grasp it?” Leaning closer, the shadows darken and his voice drops. “You think me a fool?

I don’t know why, but this blank face is more terrifying than his angry one, and the Monk has a top-tier angry face. It’s all in the eyes and how wide they get compared to their normal size. “Wait, hold on, I’m not a Spectre. It’s really me, Falling Rain.”

Returning to his seated position, the Monk dismisses me with a harrumph. “I know not how you penetrated my defences, but you’ve constructed a poor ruse indeed. You wear a poor copy of Brother SanDukkha’s form, too old and ugly, yet you expect me to welcome you with open arms? You still exist only because to smite you would only add to my sins, so begone apparition, before my tolerance is spent. Mahakala may be dying, but he is still far from dead.”

“No, I get it, Spectres are lying scum, but seriously, it’s me.” Ugh, this is so frustrating. “I told you all about my problems with Baledagh, remember? You helped me then, so now it’s my turn to help you.” A thought strikes me and I study the Monk’s behemoth form from head to toe, noting the vast discrepancy between this massive body and his real one, a big reason I never considered the statue might be the Monk.

“Hang on a second... how do I know it’s really you, and not a Spectre pretending to be you? I mean, I can’t see your face and you’re...” Glancing up and down at his body, I try to think of a proper way to frame it and fail horrifically. “Not fat.”

The towering Monk pauses and shakes his head, though I sense it more than I see it. “You’ve got his rude mannerisms down, if not his image, but as you so aptly pointed out, one’s mind’s image does not always match reality. Come, spew your lies and play your tricks, apparition. Mahakala will see through them.”

“Ugh, I don’t have time for this. You’re dying and I can save you, but I need you to bring me to the edge of the darkness so I can cleanse the Demon Goop from your body.”

“Ha.” Gesturing around, the massive Monk asks, “Why must I bring you? The darkness has already arrived.”

Fuck. Apparently, while lost in my meditative trance and subsequent cleansing, the darkness snuck up behind me. The pillars, once distant landmarks, are now almost close enough to spit on, or at least hit with an arrow, and my fears are proven true as I spot the Spectres squirming about the void. How long have I been here? Has the Demon Gunk reached the Monk’s head, and therefore my foot too? Damn it, how am I supposed to explain a missing hand and foot to the Legate? ‘I touched the Monk by accident, then took off my shoes and poked him for good measure’?

Whatever. One problem at a time.

Seeing how I no longer need the Monk’s help, I head towards the void with my eyes averted, unable to stomach the unsavoury, twisting patterns of the writhing Spectres, so different from what I expected. These Spectres have no cunning or intelligence behind their eyes, a silent, uncoordinated horde pushing and clawing at an invisible barrier, driven to madness by ravenous hunger as they seek to consume the Monk’s Spiritual Body. Mine too, judging by their heightened frenzy as I approach the barrier, but luckily, I came prepared.

Wishing I knew a better way to transport it, my Spiritual Body regurgitates all the Water-Chi I have stored, which turns out to be less of a flood and more of a trickle. Granted I only bound one container of water, but Blobby is a droplet and he flooded Yo Ling’s Natal Palace. Still, disappointed as I am with the volume, the results are everything I hoped for and more. Crashing into the darkness, my Water-Chi washes over the tightly-packed Spectres and sweeps them away, dissolving them into sweet, Heavenly Ene -

Hey!

What the fuck?

Where’s my Heavenly Energy? Why are the Spectres dissipating into nothingness? I was banking on the Heavenly Energy to keep the Monk alive, help Mom get back on her feet, and maybe give myself ten or twenty centimetres if there’s still some left over. Why isn’t it working like before?

It gets worse. I didn’t consider that Blobby is an endless font of Heavenly Water whereas my Water-Chi is both finite and consumed in the cleansing process. The maddened apparitions hardly seem to notice as more surge forwards into the space left by their dissolved comrades, and I’m forced to retreat before the darkness engulfs me. Taking shelter by the Monk, I massage my forehead and try to come up with another solution. “Okay,” I say, thinking out loud. “That didn’t go as expected. You ran out of Water-Chi, because Blobby is a butt and left on sabbatical. Also, there’s something wrong with these Spectres. Usually, you kill a few Spectres and the rest go running, but this time, these ones don’t give a flying fuck. So aside from being weird, creepy, and contorty, these Spectres have no sense of self-preservation. Now I know. Don’t know how it helps, but you know. So what next?” Eyeing the unsavoury horde, I wince and say, “Devour them? I could always cleanse them later after I bind more water or find Blobby.” Oh, I could get Pong-Pong to do it!

“No Brother SanDukkha.” Engulfing me with his massive hands, the Monk gently lifts me to eye level and treats me to a glimpse of his face. It’s younger and thinner, one suited for the body it sits on, handsome but not to excess, with an honest smile and carefree gaze. “You are truly a child of many mysteries,” he says, studying my Spiritual Body with a keen eye. “How did you make your way into my Natal Palace?”

“It’s something I do. Mostly involuntarily, but I meant to do it this time.” Waving away his questions, I continue, “There’s no time for this. I came up with another way to save you, but -”

“Do not devour these apparitions, Brother SanDukkha. They are not the Spectres you’ve faced before.”

Thanks, I realized. “No, but -”

Heedless to the time sensitive nature of our plight, the Monk continues “These are the itinerant souls I spoke of, and it seems the Enemy has found a way to weaponize them. They are Anathema to matter and life itself, driven to consume everything in their path until nothing remains.”

“...Then why does it need sunlight to work?” My question gives the Monk pause and affords me the opportunity to keep speaking. “Whatever, we’ll figure it out later. Right now, you need to send me away. I can still save you, but I need to go get something first.” How do I hide Pong Pong’s presence from all the Experts outside the door? One problem at a time. “Hurry, we don’t have time to spare.”

Unfazed by the urgency in my tone, the Monk continues to lecture me. “Brother SanDukkha, this too must reach the Abbot’s ear. What I warned of was nihility in a spiritual sense, but this weapon, this ‘Demon Gunk’ as you’ve termed it, this will bring nothingness on a more tangible scale.”

“Got it, will tell him, but first, send me out so I can SAVE YOUR LIFE!”

Smiling at my desperate pleas, the Monk shakes his head and refuses to do as I ask. “Waste not your efforts. My time is at an end, for even should Mahakala survive, he lacks the resolve to continue. Pride was my downfall, and to believe myself capable of mending my ways would be to make the same mistake again.”

“No! You can’t quit, not now. You can tell the Abbot yourself, and you can help right the Balance or whatever you think you’re doing. Don’t give up, the world needs you.”

I need him... Who else can I talk to about Baledagh?

With a contented sigh, the Monk leans back to stare at the sky, peering past the impenetrable cloud of Spectres at something I can’t see. “Perhaps it is selfish to leave this mess to you and others, and for this, you have my heartfelt apologies, but Mahakala is not strong enough to see this through. The Heavens call to me Brother SanDukkha, but your trials have yet to end.” Looking at me once more, the Monk smiles and says, “Mourn not for my passing, for death is merely a new beginning, a chance to start anew.”

“Mourn you? You’ll be lucky if I don’t curse you! Stay and fight, you coward!”

“Then Mahakala can only beg your forgiveness.” Though still smiling, the Monk is hurt by my condemnation and a single tear drips down his cheek. “Do not let your disdain affect your decision. The Abbot must be warned. One last matter, Brother SanDukkha: Never reveal this ability to the Legate or any member of the Imperial Clan, else they will stop at nothing to control or destroy you.”

And with this ominous last warning, the Monk sends me away, and I open my eyes back in reality, my foot still resting atop his fat bald head while I lean against Taduk’s chest. Blinking tears out of my eyes, I right myself and Send, “I couldn’t save him, but Pong-Pong can. We need to go get him quickly, there isn’t much time.”

“Rain my boy,” Taduk whispers, patting my head. “I’m sorry, but he’s gone.” Clearing his throat as I stare at the Monk’s corpse in disbelief, he adds, “I know you’re in shock, but you need to lop off your foot first else you’ll soon join him.”

And to think... this morning, I thought things were looking up.

Chapter Meme