Savage Divinity

“What have I done? Oh Mother in Heaven, what have I done?!”

Wishing she could hug her beloved tight, Eri-Hime did what little she could to console Big Brother Hideo. “There, there. It’s not your fault. You didn’t bring down the walls. Eri-Hime did, so there’s no need to feel bad.” Wishing she could’ve seen her work firsthand, she instead comforted herself with the knowledge that Falling Rain would soon be dead and maybe even Uncle Hiroshi along with him.

A difficult accomplishment, demolishing Sinuji’s rammed earth walls, but one she took pride in. Were it not for Big Brother Hideo’s staggering talent in mastering the basics of the Mountain Collapsing Stomp, then Eri-Hime couldn’t have possibly succeeded even with the Voice of Heaven guiding her, but thankfully, they had all the tools necessary to ensure Sinuji’s downfall. This was much better than having Big Brother Hideo kill Rain himself, because then his name would be reviled throughout the Empire, and Eri-Hime certainly couldn’t allow that to happen. Luckily, few would know of the part they played, because Eri-Hime and Big Brother Hideo left to set out towards their new life long before the walls fell. The Voice of Heaven taught her how to direct the Mountain Collapsing Stomp to destroy things from a distance, and while it took her a good number of tries to get it right, her first success was almost immediately followed by a second.

Unfortunately, twice was her limit as Big Brother Hideo ran out of Chi, so she had no choice but to leave the inner wall untouched. Worse, she wasn’t sure if father-in-law was still in Sinuji or if he’d already abandoned Big Brother Hideo to his fate. During the earlier scuffle between Ancestral Beasts, Uncle Hiroshi had pestered them to no end through Sending, demanding Big Brother Hideo hand command over to one of his subordinates and step down from the outer wall so they could retreat. Against military orders and Big Brother Hideo’s own wishes, Eri-Hime might add, but cowardly Uncle Hiroshi didn’t care one whit about what anyone else wanted. Such a selfish man, she could see right through him, a heartless cad willing to sacrifice friends, family, and anything else so long as he could have his way.

No matter. Having cut ties with the Mitsue family and even the Empire itself, Eri-Hime and Big Brother Hideo were ready to start a new chapter in their life together, just as soon as they met with their benefactor. Not so simple a task when surrounded by hostile Defiled, but being the true Number One Talent in the Empire, Big Brother Hideo had no trouble carving a path through the horde of dirty, unwashed savages. That was all he would do now, fight and cry, recklessly advancing headlong into the Enemy out of a misguided desire for death, but most Defiled paid Eri-Hime and Big Brother Hideo little mind save to push them towards their goal. Every now and then a few temperamental fools with more courage than sense would try to impede their progress, but she was thankful for their silly actions since it gave Big Brother Hideo a means to vent his anger and frustration.

With guidance from the Voice of the Heavens, it didn’t take long for Eri-Hime and Big Brother Hideo to arrive at their destination, where a dashing young man greeted them with open arms. “Good, Good,” he said, scrutinizing Big Brother Hideo with such hunger it made Eri-Hime think of her old friends, silly little girls who enjoyed imagining romantic pairings between prominent men and deciding which one would be the dominant force in their fabricated relationship.

Those discussions had always made Big Brother Hideo uncomfortable, mostly because they always drafted him as the submissive partner, but in this particular pairing, it would be hard to argue otherwise.

“This Sovereign,” the young man began, his gaze so compelling neither Eri-Hime nor Big Brother Hideo could look away, “Is the Emissary of Earth’s Fire, Gen. Welcome. It is good to find another comrade who walks the razor’s edge, and a talented one at that. One can never have too many talented... friends.”

“Mitsue Hideo,” Eri-Hime answered, though only belatedly remembering having cut ties with the Mitsue Family. “The Voice of Heaven told me to come here, said there would be freedom and answers.”

“Freedom given is not freedom earned,” Gen chided, lazily gesturing behind them. “Seize freedom with your own hands, and it will taste that much sweeter.”

Turning around, Eri-Hime discovered that they’d been followed, and her lips twisted in displeasure at the uninvited guest. “Oh. Hello,” she said, keeping up the pretense that it was Big Brother Hideo here rather than the poor girl he so brutally murdered. “You shouldn’t have come.”

Though surrounded by Demons and Defiled, Uncle Hiroshi showed no sign of fear or concern, only sombre anguish and heartfelt remorse. “Son,” he said, his voice hoarse and heartbroken. “You are not to blame. I, your father, take responsibility for your sins.” With twin maces in hand, exact replicas Mitsue Juichi’s Spiritual Weapons and Big Brother Hideo’s as well, Uncle Hiroshi added, “I should’ve killed you months ago, for at least then you might not have been so far gone. Now, your soul might never know the warm embrace of the Mother, but worry not.” Voice hardening to steel, Uncle Hiroshi nodded with decisive determination. “You will not go into the Father’s maw alone. I will join you in death soon after, and together, we will face Him down and fight our way back to salvation.”

Then Mitsue Hiroshi took action, and the quiet, mousy Patriarch of the Mitsue Family, transformed into violence personified.

If not for Emissary Gen’s armoured guards, Eri-Hime and Big Brother Hideo would’ve died then and there, but it was still a close call. As one guard pulled them away from Uncle Hiroshi, a second shattered beneath his mace, its sturdy, metallic form unable to withstand the force of a single blow. “Come, my son,” he bellowed, Deflecting away the yellow-green lifeblood of his fallen foe before smashing aside another unfortunate guard. “Meet your death like a true son of the Mitsue Family.” A third guard died as easily as the first two as Hiroshi tore through their ranks like a lion through deer, killing with every step while remaining utterly untouched.

This was the man believed by the Empire over to be little more than a glorified accountant, responsible for managing the family finances and cleaning up messes made by Mitsue Juichi’s inept offspring. Here, surrounded and outnumbered, Mitsue Hiroshi displayed his true strength for the first time ever, and the only person here to appreciate it was his own son.

More guards joined the fray, but after the first three deaths, the rest had grown wary, keeping their distance as they encircled their foe in a black ring of death. Swords, spears, hammers, and axes, their weapons sang as they probed Uncle Hiroshi’s defences, but he always seemed three steps ahead of them and ready with the perfect counter. Unable to even recognize the movements involved, Eri-Hime stood frozen in slack-jawed surprise at this consummate display of skill, one which Big Brother Hideo believed would see his father ranked as one of the top Peak Experts in Central, if not the Empire itself. He’d been blessed enough to watch a spar between Sword King Ryo Dae Jung and Grasping Vine Shuai Jiao, the only two men in Central who held rank equal to Mentor Juichi’s, and from the looks of things, his father wasn’t too far off.

There. That footwork. Stalking the Dragon and Coiling the Nest, two movements melded so flawlessly it was hard to discern where one ended and the other began. Then Standing Fury into Reversed Flow, followed by Lumbering Turn and Raising the Winds. A flawless combination which blocked the attacks of three Demons and afforded father the opportunity to counterattack whilst surrounded on all sides, so subtle and simple in its perfection. Four Demons lay dead now, with only eight left to go, and despite the odds stacked against him, Hideo believed his father would emerge victorious today and be known the world over as a Martial Warrior who lived up to his name, the Immortal Heavenly Guardian of the Empire.

Then a pillar of fire rose from the earth and sent Mitsue Hiroshi staggering away, only for a spear to erupt from his belly and spray Hideo with his father’s blood.

Good. Now he’s dead and will never bother you again.

An eternity passed in the blink of an eye before the inhuman howl tore out from Hideo’s throat. The spear withdrew and he ran forward into his father’s arms, clutching his hero close as tears streamed from his eyes. “I’m sorry father,” he said, unable to say or think anything else as he stared into his father’s eyes, so pained yet full of love for his failure of a son. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Can’t you see his pain? Put him out of his misery.

“No!” Hideo howled, supporting his father with one arm while brandishing his mace with the other. “Back, foul Demons! You will not have him! I won’t let you!”

Contrary to his accusations, the gathered Demons showed no sign of advancing, standing about like lifeless puppets hung in place for display. Striding out from between them, Gen shook his head and sighed. “How disappointing,” he said, eyeing Hideo up and down once again. “The man came to kill you, yet still you hold fast to unwarranted affection. Why? Because he laid with some woman who later gave birth to you?” Scoffing, Gen waved a hand and continued, “Love is merely a construct of the mind, a means with which to ensure the production and survival of the next generation, and even then, this man was a poor example of it.” Stepping closer to Hideo, Gen ignored the shaking mace and said, “Your father never loved you. He abandoned you during your childhood, left you starved of affection to suffer in miserable loneliness.”

“No. It’s not true. He had to work, had to keep the family together.”

“The family, not your family. What better proof than your life? You saw his strength just now, so you know he could have Mentored you himself, yet he sent you to be trained by a man proven to be a failure of a Mentor instead. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do,” Gen pressed, moving Hideo’s mace aside. “You know why. Because the Mitsue Family needed a promising young talent to carry on their legacy, one so talented even Juichi himself could not ruin.”

“Shut up!” Hideo screamed, falling to his knees. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Your father never loved you. Never cared about you. You were a means to an end, an obligation to fulfill, and someone he raised to live vicariously through. That’s why you have no siblings, yet have more cousins than you can count. He protected you not out of love, but necessity. Your death meant the death of his dreams, the death of his legacy, the death of his family name.

And your life, meant his death, a death he willingly walked into because he lives on, through you.

Cradling his father’s cooling corpse with a strangled whimper, Hideo buried his head and wept, but regardless if he accepted or denied the truth laid out before him, the pain would not go away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fall back! Abandon the walls and Fall back!”

Even as he gave the order, Nian Zu knew it was too late, and all he could do was watch as the middle wall crumbled apart with thousands of soldiers standing atop it. They were lost to him now, either dying from the fall or trampled beneath Defiled boots, though a few unlucky survivors might be dragged away as trophies and slaves. Cold logic and tactical acumen dictated he cut his losses and focus on what to do next, for it was safe to assume that the inner wall would soon fall, leaving the Imperial Warriors in Sinuji face to face with the mammoth Defiled Horde.

Even without the forward walls, all was not lost. Reinforcements were nearby and his forces wouldn’t need to hold out for long, so his goal now was simply to drag the battle out until his allies arrived. Thankfully, under Chen Hongji’s farsighted guidance, Fort Sinuji’s defences included two deep, impassable trenches on the northern and southern flanks. Initially dug to keep the Defiled from encircling the fort, these Earth-Worked excavations were too wide for any mount to vault across and forced the Enemy to funnel into the heavily fortified courtyard behind him. It would take a mounted contingent the better part of an hour to circle around the trenches and arrive in fighting form, an issue he’d have to keep an eye out for later, but first he needed to weather this impending frontal charge, a smattering of crazed skirmishers followed by the cavalry to mop things up. This meant getting his soldiers into position and doing everything in his power to keep them from routing. If his soldiers broke and ran, the Defiled cavalry would tear everyone apart like wolves set upon a herd of sheep, so their best hope of survival lay in holding Sinuji until the reinforcements arrived.

Simple in theory, but courage and training would only go so far when staring down the tip of a Defiled spear delivered by a ferocious, one-tonne beast.

All this went through his mind in the blink of an eye, but still Nian Zu stood perched upon the inner wall. This half-second of hesitation would cost him greatly, for there was much he still needed to do, but try as he might, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horrific sight before him. These men and women before him were doomed heroes one and all, soon to give their lives in defence of the Empire. Some wailed in despair as the wall gave out beneath them, others accepted their fates with stoic determination, while a select few had yet to even recover from their shock.

The optimal, rational thing to do was to leave them for dead, but at this very second, they still drew breath, and where there was life, there was hope.

Besides, Nian Zu was never one to give in to logic and reason. No, he was lauded as the Hero of the Wall because that’s who he was. A man of courage, valour, and camaraderie who would never turn his back on a soldier in need.

“Guards, to me!” Leaping out to meet the oncoming Defiled before the command was even uttered, Nian Zu cast the Shooting Star into the Enemy horde to buy time for his soldiers to escape. The blast set his ears to ringing as Defiled died in the blast, a plume of dust billowing high into the night’s sky as yet another explosion rocked the fields of Sinuji. Impressive as the attack normally was, today he felt like it was akin to tossing pebbles into a tsunami. Heedless of their casualties, the Defiled continued their charge even as Nian Zu summoned his mace back into hand and delivered a two-handed swing to the closest Defiled, smashing through the tribesman’s chest and turning his corpse into a deadly projectile.

A single breath was all his efforts bought them, an extra second of time in which a handful of soldiers made it onto the inner wall when they otherwise might not have, while others were dragged or even bodily thrown to safety by his guards. Most arm-chair generals would read the after action reports and condemn Nian Zu for taking an unnecessary risk, criticize him as a glory-seeking hound or a muscle-brained fool, but in his eyes, saving even one life was worth the risk and effort.

So long as he survived of course. Should Nian Zu die now, Sinuji was liable to fall in minutes with the incompetent Mitsue Watanabe at the helm.

“Withdraw.” The order given, Nian Zu stayed behind to guard the retreat, but it didn’t take long. Dispatching a Defiled tribesman while raising his mace, Nian Zu leapt back and cast his Shooting Star towards his feet, shielding his eyes as the resulting blast delivered a stinging gust of dirt, dust, and blood directly into his face. Pausing for breath on the parapets, he extended a hand to catch his returning mace, but alarm bells rang in his mind and he jumped away just in time to watch a hooked sword cleave through the space he previously occupied.

Landing heavily in the courtyard, Nian Zu staggered three steps back before correcting his balance, and his returning mace thudded into the dirt beside his boots. A disgraceful sight to display to the shaken soldiers of Sinuji, for most would assume he traded blows with an opponent and lost. Burning with anger and humiliation, Nian Zu summoned his mace back into hand for the third time today, an unnecessary expenditure of Chi and unwise given his dwindling reserves, but over the years, he found most soldiers responded best to this minor and almost inconsequential display of skill. Why some believed summoning a weapon to hand was more impressive than say Cloud-Stepping into the skies or lifting a one-tonne boulder overhead, he couldn’t quite rightly say, but he would need every possible advantage he could to make up for this dire loss of face.

One good thing came of this however, for aside from a few dozen berserk tribesman, the Defiled offensive came to a halt atop the still-standing inner wall. Why it was left untouched, he couldn’t say, but it could be any number of reasons including to allow this unknown Peak Expert to stand atop the wall and look down upon them all. Drawing himself up to full height, Nian Zu studied his opponent through narrowed eyes and was puzzled by what he found. Rather than a Defiled Chieftain or fallen Imperial General, his mysterious foe was a clean-shaven, middle-aged, Imperial citizen underneath all the blood and sweat, looking utterly out of place atop the parapets with hooked-sword in hand. Pale of skin but neither large nor slim, this Peak Expert wore the grey robes of the Penitent Brotherhood and carried himself with humble dignity and quiet cheer, a man who found inner peace and gratification in the bloodshed and carnage surrounding him. While hardly unheard of for Martial Warriors to join the Brotherhood, only a fool would mistake this warrior for a Penitent Brother, or at least not one who’d been at it for long. Despite the air of peace and serenity emanating from the supposed monk’s steely gaze, Nian Zu sensed a hint of murderous madness lingering beneath, a calm and intelligent sort of insanity found most commonly in Defiled Chieftains, those Enemy commanders who kept their deranged tribesmen in line. This was no crazed Defiled driven by lies and instinct, but a man wholly in control of his thoughts and impulses, yet chose to indulge and succumb to them instead.

In short, this was a true believer of the Father’s forsaken cause, which made him all the more dangerous a foe.

“Rejoice and despair,” the mysterious foe began, smiling with a casual arrogance usually reserved for the highest echelons of nobility. “For the Confessor has come to hear your sins and guide you back from your errant path.”

Though surprised by his assailant’s identity, Nian Zu put aside his concerns and questions for the time being. Bellowing with forced laughed, he stole Goujian’s momentum and drew all eyes towards himself instead. “When aMad Dog barks,” he said, delighting as his foe bristled at the reminder of this most hated moniker, “Only fools bark back. Come, twisted torturer. You’ve sank your fangs into many a helpless sheep, but let us see how well you fare against an old wolf.”

Words were never his strong suit; On the day they first met, Du Yi had quipped that in a battle of wits, Nian Zu was the equivalent of a blind and unarmed cripple, and he wasn’t far off from the mark. Instead of sharpening his wits however, Nian Zu simply avoided such battles altogether, so rather than engaging the Sanguinary Priest in a verbal spar, he launched an all out assault. A single stomp sent him soaring towards his foe with mace raised to deal a killing blow, utterly disrespecting Goujian’s high-ground advantage, but Nian Zu was one of the most formidable duellists of his time while his opponent was merely a Defiled torturer. Victory would be as easy as turning a hand, and the soldiers of Sinuji would cheer for the death of the universally reviled Confessor.

Or so he thought, right up until his foe blocked his attack with his bare forearm and latched onto Nian Zu’s wrist, all while holding him away from the parapets so his feet dangled helplessly over the courtyard. Granted, he’d expected his opponent to dodge or flee and hadn’t put his full strength into the attack, but even then, he shouldn’t have been caught so easily. He hadn’t even seen the Confessor move, and a quick look showed that the man’s feet had remained rooted in place, but his hands darted out faster than any human eye could follow.

How was this possible? Did the Father Himself break the rules once more to bestow this Demonic Strength unto Goujian?

“Old wolf are you?” The Confessor asked, his glee and contempt obvious to behold as he held Nian Zu in place with an unbreakable grip. Though repeatedly hammering his boot into his foe’s gut, Goujian’s speech remained unaffected as he continued, “But even the most formidable wolf is nothing before the brilliance of man, and I represent the future of mankind.” His part said, Goujian tossed Nian Zu unceremoniously back into the courtyard. Staggering back for the second time, he raised his guard to defend against the follow up, but found his foe still standing on the wall above, sword held at the ready with a contemptuous sneer upon his face. “Come, show me your strength, Hero of the North,” Goujian demanded. “I’ll even afford you ten moves without fear of retaliation, and if you can force your way onto the wall, then this Confessor will gift you his head.”

Scowling at his adversary’s blatant manipulations, Nian Zu took a breath to clear his mind before weighing his options. Time was what they needed most, and this duel against Goujian would afford them plenty, but in their single, brief exchange, the Confessor had revealed vast depths of hidden strength. His physique alone was terrifying enough, for Nian Zu had kicked him with enough force to kill a bull yet he barely even flinched, though he seemed to be breathing a little heavily and sweating more than he should be on this cool winter’s night. Were they to fight on even ground, Nian Zu was confident he would emerge victorious, but as history had just proven, Goujian’s position was unassailable from the ground. One mistake and Nian Zu’s head would roll, sealing Sinuji’s ultimate fate along with it.

Hmph. If Du Yi were here, he’d curse Nian Zu for the a faint-hearted, cowardly maiden he was. This was the perfect opportunity to buy time, and instead of rising to the occasion, he was busy trembling like a fresh-faced soldier in his first battle. Stepping forward to accept Goujian’s challenge, Nian Zu laughed and said, “The Mad Dog can hardly be trusted to keep his word, but this is of little consequence. If I, Nian Zu, want your head, then I shall take it myself.”

So what if his foe had a staggeringly powerful physique and held the high ground? So what if the terms of this duel were not to his advantage and forced him to risk his life assaulting the Defiled position alone and unattended? He was Nian Zu, his name known around the Empire as the greatest warrior in the North, and today, he would prove he deserved his hard won reputation with blood and steel.

After all, he could hardly allow himself to be upstaged by a mere brat of twenty. It was time for Falling Rain to take a step back and let others earn glory in his stead.

Chapter Meme