Savage Divinity

The strong rule, and the weak serve.

The strong fight, and the weak provide.

The strong thrive, and the weak survive.

All popular aphorisms used by nobles and civilians alike, the truth ingrained into their bones after generations of command or servitude, but Dastan wished with all his heart the world were not so. Sitting with the rest of Sinuji’s cavalry, he watched as battle was joined between Defiled and Imperial infantry for the umpteenth time and ruminated over the hypocrisy of man. Nine weeks ago, Rain fought and suffered grievous injury on these very fields to turn back the massive Defiled horde arrayed against them, a battle of epic proportions which they handily won in no small part thanks to his efforts. Those staggering numbers made this current horde seem like child’s play in comparison, a paltry mob not even close to a hundred thousand strong and even smaller than the one they’d dispatched three days past, but Sinuji’s losses today would no doubt still be comparable to those taken in Rain’s last battle.

Granted, those Defiled had fled after a quarter-day of fighting, while this horde would undoubtedly fight until the bitter end like all other hordes had since, but Rain’s absence was sorely noticed in the past nine weeks, but nothing came of it. Despite statistical proof of his significance, the people of the Empire pretended like Rain had lost the Mother’s Blessing and no longer mattered, or worse, they criticized and denigrated him at every turn. The Enemy sent dozens of Demons just to ensure his death, but still his detractors screamed of fictitious news and fabricated achievements no matter how much evidence was paraded before them.

Even if he were never to recover, a hero like Falling Rain deserved honour and respect, but after his three Spiritual Weapons were destroyed by the sinister quasi-Demon Gen, his supposed allies were amongst the first and loudest to denounce him. ‘Headstrong’, they called him when feeling polite, and ‘foolish’ when they weren’t, they all spoke as if they would have seen Gen’s plan and foiled it without breaking a sweat. It didn’t matter how most Majors would have died to his fiery blasts, or how his ability to partially Demonize and destroy Spiritual Weapons was never before seen or heard of. Nor did it matter that Rain survived the shattering of his Core and a massive pillar of fire by using what little Chi still remained to him to Develop his Domain, not to mention the jaw-dropping display of power which came afterwards. No, Falling Rain should have easily overcome his powerful foe and emerged unscathed, so his inability to do so somehow meant he was an abject failure, according to his ‘allies’ and ‘supporters’ who switched sides like the faithless hypocrites they truly were.

Even feral beasts wouldn’t forget favours and violate justice, but these supposed nobles didn’t hesitate to toss Rain aside the moment they believed the relationship was no longer beneficial.

They all deserved to die for their crimes. Leave the Empire to burn to the ground.

Tempted as Dastan was, he knew this wasn’t something Rain would ever do, despite how poorly everyone treated him. The Society was first to change its tune once Rain was no longer a threat, Zian and BoShui’s supporters melting away into the shadows as they pretended as if they had never been there. Idiots and ingrates one and all, for this was merely a minor setback for the Mother’s Chosen Son, a man who Developed his Domain at the tender age of nineteen. The genius of a generation who accomplished miracle after miracle, yet everyone was happy to write him off without thinking twice. Good riddance in Dastan’s opinion, for true friends stick together through weal and woe, and those who stood by Rain in his darkest hours proved they were worthy of his friendship.

Dastan would have bet good money on Zian being the first to turn on Rain, but it was a bet he would’ve lost. Following the death of his Mentor, the Situ Young Patriarch was the most vulnerable of Rain’s allies and would have benefited greatly from turning on him, but Zian steadfastly refused any and all marriage or alliance offers which predicated on him breaking ties or betraying Rain, which meant he rejected them all. Without the Twinned Dragon Jukai to watch over him, there was a very real chance of Zian losing his head in an ‘accident’ or committing ‘suicide’ with a blow to the back of his head, but he cared nothing for the risks and publicly declared his stance on the issue by accepting four Bekhai protectors led by the hulking half-bear Vichear. The Khishig and former Major was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, and though he fought with sword and shield, his fighting style matched well with Zian’s own. Seated atop his war-charger, Dastan watched two warriors dance in and out of battle, their movements standing out amidst the static Imperial and Defiled lines as their swords scythed through all who opposed them and inspiring the warriors in their midst.

It’d been Rain’s idea to send Vichear to protect Zian, noting the mourning young man needed protection and ‘didn’t really understand how to fight in massed battles’. Dastan had taken it for a joke at first, but having seen firsthand how quickly Zian improved in these last few weeks, he marvelled as the boss’s wisdom and judgment. The departed Jukai had guided Zian well, but whatever secretive training Vichear had him doing, the results spoke for themselves.

Colonel Hongji was another steadfast ally, and Dienne, Wu Gam, the Chu Family, Yo Family, and the Harmonious Unity Sect rounded out the rest of Rain’s closest allies, save for BoShui. While his loyalty had almost been a given, the forsworn Aspirants he’d taken in were a dangerous unknown. Dastan even recognized a handful of them from the Purge in Sanshu, but Rain had too and merely waved the matter aside, saying they deserved the benefit of the doubt since they’d sworn Oaths to serve BoShui, no matter their previous sins. Rain was too trusting and forgiving, but it was a key part of his charm, else how could he have won over the prideful Situ Jia Zian? Either way, Dastan trusted the former Aspirants only as far as their Oaths would hold them, and would not have been surprised if they’d made their Oaths to BoShui thinking they could eventually turn him against Rain, but his loyalty and devotion was second to none.

Can never trust them. Should kill them before they betray us...

Repressing the urge to act on his dark thoughts, Dastan brought his mind back on track. Luckily, after BoShui Developed his Domain, the Han Patriarch was only all too happy to abandon his makeshift alliance with the Situ Clan, and was now working to woo his talented son back. For good reason too, because as entrancing as Zian and Vichear’s display might be, it was Han BoShui who caught everyone’s eyes. Newly promoted to Second Grade Warrant Officer, he’d taken in all of Rain’s troops who would join him, which was everyone save for the Khishigs and Protectorate. With Mister Rustram to keep his soldiers in line, BoShui devoted all his attention to battle and proved his worth as a future Peak Expert. From here on the sidelines, it was easy to see his effect on the overall battle as he smashed his way through the Enemy forces and drew their Champions to him, alleviating pressure on all the soldiers in his vicinity. Few could stand against him for more than one blow, and fewer still who could last beyond three, his straightforward and robust fighting style tailor-made for the chaos of battle.

Not even Wu Gam’s Earth-blessed physique could match BoShui’s performance on the battlefield, a lumbering mass of brawn and blunt-force trauma. There was nothing graceful about the way BoShui fought, no beauty or elegance to be seen, simply pitting strength against strength and coming out untouched.

“Come, my vanguard,” Major XinYue called, snapping Dastan out of his thoughts. “Honour and glory await!”

With axe and shield in hand, Dastan rode to meet the Defiled and vent the grievances in his heart. The ground shook beneath the hooves of his Guonei Charger as he unleashed rage and embraced calm amidst the chaos and fury of the charge. Man and beast working as one, they became an unstoppable juggernaut upon the battlefield, his axe singing as heads flew and bodies crumpled, decapitating Defiled as easily as a farmer reaps wheat.

The glory was not his alone. An imposing figure garbed in red and gold, Major XinYue led the way through the press of bodies while Dastan and a thousand others followed along beside him, proud to serve alongside the dynamic, heavyset commander and wholly confident in his directions. Gone were the days of Dastan’s bitter resentment and second-guessing, for the good Major was a man he would follow into the Father’s Maw itself, his strength, intelligence, loyalty, and benevolence proven a thousand times over in the past few months. Forward they rode into the mass of Defiled, and forward they continued until there were no Defiled left before them, for they were the vanguard and such was their purpose.

“Form up!” XinYue commanded, and Dastan heeled his mount to obey as the Major brought them around to face a contingent of Enemy cavalry. Relishing the challenge, he calmed his horse and directed it to stand still and rest, because soon, it would need all the strength it could muster. Brandishing their spiked bone lances, the Enemy riders picked up speed, whooping and hollering while XinYue's forces stood in place, their mounts largely spent after their powerful charge. Having fought in countless battles at his side, Dastan knew what would come next, but even then, seeing the golden armoured Major charge out alone made his heart clench with worry. “Forward! Victory or Death!”

No matter how many times Dastan heard this battle-cry, the sheer audacity of such a claim always raised his spirits as he echoed it with all his might and urged his steed to charge ahead. Accelerating for all it was worth, the horse surged forward and ran headlong at the Enemy without fear, but it would pay a hefty price for its commendable loyalty. Instinct and intuition saved Dastan’s life as he vaulted free from the saddle, thinking more than feeling a sense of pity for his valiant mount as he bounded high into the empty air, his body Lightened and jump Amplified. Impaled upon a white bone spear, the horse’s momentum lifted it high into the air, forcing Dastan to scramble to avoid its flailing legs as it went head over hooves into the crowd of Defiled, bringing down two riders even in death. Whispering a small prayer for his noble and valiant steed, he landed lightly atop one of his allies’ mounts and glared at the offending Champion, notable only due to his unholy weapon and the string of blackened ears worn about his neck as he laid into Dastan’s allies with ferocious savagery.

Bereft of his mount, Dastan knew he would only hinder his ally if he remained where he stood, so he leaped onto the first gajashia who rode past. Its rider resisted, but unable to bring his lance to bear, Dastan’s axe made short work of his foe. Shrieking in fury, the beaked horse bucked and kicked to dislodge him, but its defiance was cut short as his shield slammed down and cracked its skull. Dazed and disoriented, the creature stumbled to its knees and Dastan took to the skies, knowing it would die trampled beneath the hooves of ally and enemy alike. Cleaving through the Enemy rider’s head while still in mid air, Dastan stomped the gajashia to death and leaped at his next target, mowing down the Defiled as he hopped, skipped, and bounded through their lines towards his true target.

Spotting the blackened-ear necklace, Dastan leaped in without hesitation, but the Enemy Champion saw him coming. The bone lance thrust out and the Runic shield screeched in protest, the pointed tip scraping across the metal surface as Dastan’s Chi plummeted in response to his foe’s powerful Amplified and Resonating attack. Knowing death awaited him if his feet touched the ground, time slowed as he hung in the air and considered his options, but they were precious few, so he let go of his inhibitions and reached out to his Natal Soul.

There it stood within the void, looking the same as always, head too big and eyes too wide, its arms too short and body too round, yet still eager and smiling nonetheless, an adorably deformed caricature of himself. Diminutive Dastan, he called it, and according to BoShui, it represented the freedom and innocence lost to him when the Golden Highlands Coalition betrayed him. For weeks after this stunning revelation, he struggled with what to do next despite already knowing what must be done, because even though the Natal Soul was flawed and defective, he couldn’t bring himself to destroy it and start over. Every time he thought about doing so, his little mental son would sense his intentions and put its weapons down, close its eyes, and readily accept its fate. It knew what needed to be done, but however imperfect it might be, it was still a part of him, so destroying it would mean losing the last of his innocence, the last of his hope.

A price Dastan was unwilling to pay.

Though Rain’s injuries were grave, Dastan truly believed the Mother’s Chosen Son would recover given time, his confidence unwavering and loyalty absolute, but his trust and fealty were given by choice. Even a slave had this right, a choice to serve willingly or unwillingly, and though little would change in the end, it was still his choice. As such, it didn’t matter that his token had been destroyed and he would forever belong to Rain, but despite his indifference, deep down, he still yearned for freedom and independence, yearned for a day when people would see him as Dastan Zhandos, soldier and hero, instead of a nameless warrior slave in service to Falling Rain. Impossible as his dreams might be, he still had hope, and his Natal Soul embodied his hopes, for it dared to dream when he did not.

To destroy his Natal Soul would be to destroy all his hopes and dreams, and what was life without hope? Not a life worth living, no matter how one was treated.

It took many long nights of contemplation to reach this conclusion, and many more nights of introspection to come to terms with it. Though it might be the wrong choice, one which could lead him to a dead-end along the Martial Path, he was determined to see this through until he reached his limits. Each warrior must forge their own path, and if his was wrong, then he would correct it once it was clear he had no other options. Having made his decision, he continued training alongside his sweet mental son, treating it the same as he had before, him, but not him, the same person, but different, a separate version of himself. Not one he aspired to as BoShui did with his, but one he cherished and protected as a memory of happier, more carefree times.

Thus, when they joined as one, he did not feel lessened by his hopes and dreams, but inspired by them, bolstered by them, for he was no longer a slave soldier, but a slave and a warrior, one fighting for a cause he believed in. A minor difference, but one which made all the difference in the world, for this was a man Dastan was proud to be.

One with the Self and One with the World, Dastan roared in defiance of Heaven as he claimed his place beneath it, his Chi surging out into his Developing Domain to await his orders. The void made manifest, his Domain felt hazy and indistinct, but real as the sun on his skin and the air in his breath, his jurisdiction within the world to use his Chi as he saw fit. Using this to solidify Chi beneath his feet, he formed multiple platforms to hold his weight, and though they crumbled beneath him before he could leap off and truly Cloud-Step, when combined with Lightening, it was enough to slow his descent for a half-second. A paltry amount of time for the amount of Chi it took, but it was enough for Dastan as the Defiled Champion’s gajashia closed the distance between them. Shield still raised, Dastan readied for the creature’s head to appear beneath him and stomped on its beak, vaulting over his surprised foe before landing heavily behind him. The gajashia’s spine broke even as Dastan’s elbow smashed into the side of the Champion’s head, and before rider and mount crashed lifelessly to the ground, he had already moved on to his next foe.

Fist, knee, boot, or elbow, sheathed in his Domain, Dastan’s entire body became a weapon as he jumped from mount to mount, avoiding thrusting spears and snapping beaks with ease. The movements came naturally to him despite never having imagined himself in such a precarious situation, his body guided by the Mother herself as Insight after Insight flooded through his mind and unveiled new heights he’d never even considered. The lines between Internal and External had blurred now that he had a Domain, but that only made boundaries all the more crucial, for External Chi could be used for so much more than crudely mitigating impacts.

Internal Lightening was made possible by using Chi to push upwards against gravity, so why could it not be used Externally in the same manner? Supported by his Domain, his body grew light as a feather as he landed behind an ally, so softly the horse barely noticed his presence despite his heavy, armoured frame. Soaring high into the skies with his next jump, he was struck by Insight and reversed the direction of Lightening. Heavy as a mountain, he came crashing down on his foe and smashed rider and mount into a pulp, but the effort left him gasping for breath as his joints creaked and organs churned in protest.

Putting the idea aside for more tweaking, he applied the same line of External thinking to Reinforcement. Adhering to his body like a second layer of muscles, his Chi gave Dastan the physical strength of a man twice his size without accounting for Internal Reinforcement. Put together, his maximum strength soared to double what it used to be, and seeing how both cavalry forces were now locked in combat, he jumped to the ground to test his might. Releasing both versions of Lightening, he lowered his stance, raised his shield, and charged the closest gajashia head on. Expecting resistance, he almost tripped over his own feet as he slammed into the Defiled mount and broke its neck on impact, his forward momentum even pushing the massive creature back several steps before it collapsed.

This wasn’t even an Amplified blow, since he lacked the ability to use Chi through his shield and had yet to figure out the External equivalent. Small wonder Experts considered Domain Development as the last hurdle to reaching the Martial Peak, for without it, he couldn’t imagine how much time it would take to learn how to use each individual skill Externally.

Delighted by this latest development, Dastan infused his voice with Chi and hollered, “Victory or Death!”, and his cry was echoed by his allies. Hungry for battle, he sought out his next opponent with wild abandon and set to slaughtering as many Defiled as he could. As a slave, few cared to sing praises of him even though he Developed his Domain before most people his age even Formed their Natal Palaces, but Dastan cared nothing for honour or glory. Falling Rain was a man of miracles and would soon be back on his feet with a new or fixed Core, but until then, Dastan would fill the void he’d left behind.

Not BoShui, not Zian, not even Mila or Yan, for Dastan Zhandos was merely a slave, and any honour or glory he earned belonged to his Master. While he could hardly match up, he would do his best not to shame his friend and hold the Defiled back long enough for Falling Rain to make his full recovery and shock the Empire once more. It was only a matter of time, measured in years and not decades, or perhaps even months, for nothing was impossible for Falling Rain, Chosen Son of the Mother.

Nothing.

This, more than anything else, was why Dastan could never give up hope, for his Master, his friend, was a man who made the impossible, possible.

Chapter Meme