Savage Divinity

What are Demons?

According to Taduk’s stories, they’re the Father’s most foul minions created in a fit of jealous rage. Using these avatars of anger and hatred, destruction and wrath, the Father poisoned the hearts of beasts and men alike, turning them into the Defiled. In this manner, He incited a war between the Mother’s children and the Defiled, one that has been fought since time immemorial, and will be fought until one side has been wholly eradicated.

That’s how the creation myth goes at least, and it goes on to say that the Father taught the Demons how to take physical form and the Mother countered this by teaching humans and beasts how to cultivate, thereby stabilizing the balance of power ensuring the stalemate would continue on into infinity. Even when I first heard it, I thought there were some wonky bits with the story, but Taduk told me the important takeaways were that Demons exist and they want to kill everything. Since hearing this tale, I have witnessed more Demonic births than I care to count, and each one has been wholly unsettling, but now that I’ve Refined my body into a Spiritual Heart and have had time to think things through, I’ve got a fresh and possibly unique perspective regarding this obscure subject matter.

In Zhen Shi’s horrific notes detailing his vast assortment of experiments, he noted that Subject 1791 progressed from commoner to Peak Expert in a matter of seconds before Demonification ensued, a detail I’d overlooked until just now. Though Huanhuzi himself is undoubtedly a Peak Expert, there are many pirates around us in the midst of the transformation process who were far less advanced, with their strength running the gamut from base Defiled to Expert Warrior. Yet each one without fail, each and every one of them advances to the Peak of the Martial Path before my very eyes, their progress perceived not with my bodily senses, but with the Spiritual Sense I have remarked upon before, but never really understood. An ineffable sense of knowing without knowing, an intuition that refuses to allow itself to be quantified, that is the best way I can describe it, but words do not do it justice. This Spiritual Sense is how I know where my Spiritual Weapons are at all times, and also how I perceive the flow of Heavenly Energy when others are demonstrating Purity. It’s also how I can feel these Demonic hosts growing in power, their strength flourishing within their bodies as the Father’s foul attentions takes root upon them, preparing their mortal forms for the unholy transformation to come and unleashing an Aura of depraved corruption that is anathema to the human existence in the process.

All of which begs the question: why?

Why is it a requirement for a Demonic host to become a Peak Expert before the transformation can take place? Core Creation, Aura Condensation, Natal Palace Formation, and Domain Development are not the only milestones these mortals touch upon in the moments before transformation. The Energy of the Heavens surges into each and every one of these hosts, not only their Cores, but their physical bodies as well, Refining their mortal physiques into a Spiritual Heart, for only then can they survive what comes next as the Spectres take action. The Hosts are not killed out of hand, but rather relegated to the status of consenting passenger or defeated prisoner within their own Cores as they surrender control of their very souls, as I saw firsthand with poor Bei way back in Sanshu. Back then, I lacked the right perspective to understand what I was seeing, but I still remember everything as clear as day. There she knelt, inside the confines of her humble hut while butchering the remains of her slain father to prepare him into a meal for her ‘husband’ Gen, who would soon appear to dine and torment her some more. Trapped in a prison of her own devising, Bei had surrendered herself to despair for the heinous crime of murdering her father, a crime she was forced to commit by none other than Gen. Immersed within this fabricated illusion made real within her Natal Palace, Bei wholly resisted any and all of my efforts to get her to stop, believing that she deserved to suffer for what she had wrought and refusing to see things any other way, even reaffirming how she belonged to Gen and that her place was there, in that nightmarish hellhole of a Natal Palace.

And yet, things are different with Huanhuzi before me. Armless and resigned, the Bandit King accepted his surrender and the Father’s foul attentions fell upon him, but still his mind remains intact. Reality ripples and distorts as the Energy of the Heavens surges downwards to refine his body into a Spiritual heart, his corporeal form merging with his Core and diminishing the separation between the physical and metaphysical, while going another step further than even what I accomplished. Though I am unable to divine what this step entails, I can tell that this is what Zhen Shi considers a true Peak Expert judging by what he wrote in his notes, a being who is but a half-step from Divinity, and anything less is but a mere pretender to the title. Was it arrogance and pretension which made him think this way, to view anything short of absolute perfection as sub-par, or was it merely due to his Imperial upbringing altering his perspective of the Martial Path? Six of one, half a dozen of the other, perhaps, but it raises more questions worth looking into later. For now though, the physical transformation process has begun and I must commit every moment to memory.

Only after Huanhuzi’s armless body has been refined into a Spiritual Heart do the Spectres make their presence known, flowing out of the Void where they were hidden from my sight to emerge in the physical world. This explains their conspicuous absence from the Central Citadel in past weeks, as these embodiments of the worst aspects of human nature continued their nefarious workings from beyond my reach and perception. Here in the wake of these Demonic births however, they have no need to fear being Devoured by me, leaving them free to wreak havoc to their black heart’s content and pursue their most primitive desire, to regain a foothold in the physical world and take form once more. Severed slivers of soul filled with the darkest of emotions, they meld together to form a single, ramshackle facsimile of a true soul lacking all that is good and holy. Bound by purpose and desire, this depraved Demonic Spectre is driven by a thousand and one differing intents, yet all pursue the same purpose as it charges into Huanhuzi’s Soul with triumphant glee, its goal soon to be realized as soon as it seize control of the Natal Throne and complete the transformation from human to Demon in full.

Only this newfangled amalgamated soul, this Demonic Spectre, is no match for the Bandit King’s steely resolve.

There is no surrender in the half-badger’s eyes, no anguish or despair to be found, only mild regret and steadfast determination as he resists the Demonic Spectre’s lies and seizes control from its intangible clutches. The Energy of the Heavens cares not who holds control of the Throne and accedes to Huanhuzi’s whims, reshaping his body to his vision and intent rather than succumbing to the jumbled and sometimes contradicting demands of the amalgamated Demonic Spectre. This is a struggle for control in every sense of the word, a Balance unlike any other I have seen, but it is Balance all the same. The Razor’s Edge, Gen called it, and I now understand why, for there is little room for error as Huanhuzi takes hold of the twin powers of Creation and Destruction and hangs on for dear life. One mistake, one errant thought or moment of distraction, and the Demonic Spectre will take control, as it did with Bei and does with so many of Huanhuzi’s subordinate pirates attempting to accomplish the same thing. Here in the coastal waters of the Azure Sea, dozens, if not hundreds of Demons manifest before my eyes, their dark and oppressive Aura emanating out from all directions, but only a few succeed at holding fast to sanity.

Those who slip from the Razor’s edge lose their humanity entirely, transforming into inhuman existences which can no longer be called human or Defiled, but are true Demons in every metric which counts. So long as the Demonic Spectre holds control, the host’s eternal soul will be trapped in an endless cycle of hatred, anguish, misery, and contempt, their dark emotions drawing in the Energy of the Heavens and fuelling not only the transformation process, but the Demon’s life itself. The more powerful the emotions, the more powerful the Demon, but even this much isn’t enough, for humans are resilient creatures and will eventually grow numb to their Demonic Spectre’s torments. Hence the need to consume human flesh and extract the energy contained within, to augment what their hosts can provide, for the Demon is otherwise unable to access the Energy of the Heavens. More food for thought, but as always, it is the exception to the rule that proves most fascinating as Huanhuzi defies expectations and holds fast to his humanity in the face of such overwhelming doom and despair.

Though his body continues to ripple and distort, the half-badger’s eyes remain steadfastly fixated on my own, seething with anger and hatred while emanating pain and resignation. He was driven to this decision, one he would have much rather avoided, but in the face of imminent defeat, he felt like he was left with no other choice. A lie, one told to himself, but one as old as humanity itself, that the ends justify the means so long as continued survival is on the line. A selfish desire, one of the three poisons according to the Noble Eight-Fold Path, the craving for existence, one which has caused the downfall of many a good person. Who can claim to truly not fear death? Even I, a man who has personally experienced life after death, fear what comes next, because it is still wholly unknown and unfathomable, so how can I blame anyone else for wanting to live but a moment longer? No, the blame falls upon the Spectres with their whispered lies and false promises, tempting these doomed pirates into accepting a possible eternity of anguish and misery over the cold finality of death, which is no true life at all.

Huanhuzi knows all this and more, so he resists with all he has, holding onto dear life and bending the Demonic Spectre to his will while trapping it within his leather Runic Armour which merges with his flesh and blood. Bound together in physical form, but yet also distinctly separate, and the same can be said of his soul as the Bandit King treads the Razor’s Edge and emerges from the other side. A mass of writhing dark hair emerges from his formerly bald head, thick, lustrous, obsidian fur save for a streak of white down the middle that travels all the way down his back. More fur emerges from his torso to poke out from his armour as his face narrows and elongates as befitting his bestial nature, and his body follows suit as a stubby, white-striped badger tail emerges from the back of his pants. Two monstrous, furred arms erupting from the severed stumps I left him, but before they have fully taken form, his lifeless limbs rise out of the waters still clinging fast to his axe and cutlass. The flesh is broken down to help fuel his transformation even as the weapons merge with the Demonic Spirit itself, a part of his Core as much as his body is now. The end result is a hulking abomination far more befitting of the title ‘half-beast’, a creature that is both beast and man yet belonging to neither category, the Demonic half-badger Bandit King, Huanhuzi.

A revolting, abomination of nature, one anathema to human life, this motherfucker dares to have bear arms before me?

...Okay, I might be fixating on the wrong point, and those are definitely badger arms, not bear, but my outrage still stands. How fucking dare he subvert my dreams like this? He has no right! None whatsoever!

There were other half-beast Demonic Warriors at the siege of the Central Citadel, but none as bestial as Huanhuzi, whose human face and torso stands in stark contrast to his badger arms and tail. I can only chalk the difference up to artistic interpretation, or perhaps Huanhuzi’s reluctance to take this dangerous step or inability to retain his humanity, but either way, I can sense his strength has improved by leaps and bounds and I might no longer be his match. Regardless of this, I have never been one to back down from a challenge, and the indignity of having my dreams stolen away fuel my desire for combat. As soon as the Father’s foul attentions wears off and Huanhuzi is no longer protected by the Energy of the Heavens, I unleash a point-blank thrust with all the strength I can muster, one built upon the twin concepts of the Mountain Collapsing Stomp and Mom’s Deadly Thorns, the move she used to wound the half-step Divinity Monk Eyebrows. A Honed, pulsating blade of Chi emerges from Unity’s tip, driven home into the Demonic Huanhuzi’s torso by Deer Pierces the Horizon and exploding into a bramble bush of piercing Chi as my physical blade punches deep into his unholy flesh.

All of which the bestial Bandit King shrugs off without flinching as he unleashes a lightning-fast counter which almost takes my head clean off my neck.

Cold sweat drips down my back as I recover from the abrupt jolt, pulled out of the fire by Dad’s fast reflexes and Gao Changong’s timely intervention. The Western Major General fights alongside two of his comrades to keep Huanhuzi in check, their staves flashing in rhythmic tempo to the beat of their foe’s attacks. Even three against one, the Bandit King still holds the initiative, his speed only above average at best, but his strength and durability unmatched. Despite almost losing my life to deal what should have been a fatal blow, Huanhuzi’s wounds have sealed shut and even his armour has mended itself back together again, leaving no discernible sign of my valiant efforts behind. The ship shudders under his ponderous weight as he dances across the rolling deck with grace and ease few can match, still utilizing those same advantages he used against me in order to dodge the majority of the Western Warrior’s attacks and shrugging off those few that do connect.

But soon, the tides and numbers turn in his favour as his Demonic reinforcements join the fray, horrific, newly-birthed Demons and half-Demons eager to slaughter and feast to their dark hearts’ intent.

Dad has long since left my side to lend his efforts to the cause, slaughtering his way over to engage Huanhuzi but blocked by a seemingly endless stream of Demons barring his Path. Seeing him take a glancing blow brings me back to reality as I rush forward to lend a hand, but Dad recovers easily enough and waves me off while dispatching his foe with ease. Though he won’t say as much in words, he’s telling me my presence at his side would be more hindrance than aid, so I should fight elsewhere instead of distracting him. I can’t blame him either, because he’s right, for my greatest failing as a Martial Warrior is my inability to remain focused and stay ten steps ahead of what comes next. I can no longer afford to rely on reaction alone, because my foes move faster than my mind can process, and if Dad sees me going down a path to destruction, he cannot help but try and save me, even at the cost of his own life.

I must look forward and always be aware of my surroundings, but this is easier said than done. In the chaos of battle, anything can happen, and as I throw myself at the closest Demon and try to anticipate its next move, a new variable emerges to send me back to square one in the form of a half-Demonic pirate Warrior. Clad in a similar leather cuirass that is easily removed and wielding axe and cutlass both, this nameless pirate is similarly armed and nowhere near as nicely dressed as his king and captain, but seeing how he kept to the Razor’s edge and retained his sanity in the face of Demonic transformation, he must be a foe to be wary of. Already, I am on the back foot as I fight for my life, and I would already be dead if my opponent were more well-versed at using the swaying ship to his advantage. Though it only takes a few seconds to acclimate to the rhythm of the waves, in a battle of this magnitude, those seconds can amount to a few dozen exchanges. Here and now, I avoid death no less than eight times before I am able to get off the back foot and fight on even terms, only for a blast of Demonic fire to throw me for a loop.

The Demon in question is an ugly, torch-bearing hunchback, perhaps a night’s watchman in life turned into humanoid monstrosity, but the misshapen torch fused to its flesh sends gout after gout of burning hot flame in my direction as it keeps its distance well. If I could touch it, I could probably Devour and kill it, but despite my best efforts, I am unable to absorb it’s Demonic Ichor from a distance, especially not while dodging flames and cleaving attacks from my foes. There is no help nearby as the Imperial Peak Experts and Demon Slayers are woefully outnumbered, all fighting back to back atop the freighter ship’s deck and soon to be overrun should things continue in this manner. Kuang Biao, my Royal Guardians, the Azure Ascendants, and all other Imperial forces are fighting for their lives, and though their combined efforts kill many a Demon and Defiled alike, the Enemy forces care not for their losses as they swarm in to bring these Imperial Experts down.

Even my Emotional Aura proves to be no use here, ignored by Demons and Demonic Warriors alike, and it occurs to me that any negative emotions might even fuel their energies by driving their hosts deeper into despair, so I quickly abandon my experimental efforts to focus on what I know. From start to finish, my arms fly in a defensive pattern, one I have no time to plan out, moving on sheer instinct alone and reliant upon a dazzling defence of moving steel to keep myself in one piece. My actions are akin to what I’ve seen Zian and his uncle Jia Yang utilize, the secrets behind their Forms not wholly revealed to me, yet my memory of their movements alone allows me to put it to good use. This is what it must feel like to utilize Insight with ease as I weave in Mom’s Thorny Bramble Bush and Jia Yang’s whirling defence of impenetrable steel into my arsenal and use them to good effect.

Even this isn’t enough to secure victory against my foes or save the lives of any comrades, though it does help preserve my life for a few seconds longer. Though the Demonic fire is simply Chi masquerading as fire, the heat alone is enough to set the treated wooden deck aflame, the spreading blaze limiting our options as our Demonic foes corral the Imperial forces into a group atop the doomed freighter. Soon enough, anyone who is not a Peak Expert is either dead or hiding below decks, and only the cream of the crop remain standing to fight, a tempting prize for these ravenous Demons who crave the taste of blood and flesh. Though they have no need for such sustenance, they covet it all the same, not just for the Heavenly Energy contained within, but because the process of eating reminds them of what it was like to be alive.

And Falling Rain will be on the menu soon enough if I don’t do something drastic.

Cold despair grips my heart as I consider all my options, but I am unable to come up with a suitable answer except to rely on Pong Pong once again. Doing so would undoubtedly reveal his existence however, the ramifications of which I am not entirely sure I am capable of withstanding. If Pong Pong acts, it might well be tantamount to breaking the treaty once and for all and unleashing hell on earth for all mortals of the Azure Empire, both Imperial and Defiled alike. Once things come to a head and this war devolves into a battle between Divinities, there is nothing left for lesser beings like myself to contend with, and I have never been comfortable leaving my fate in the hands of others.

But what else can I do? The only choice left to me is the nuclear option, so I resign myself to the inevitable and ready to usher in the end times.

Only for my Sending to be cut short as Dad grabs me by the collar and hurls me off the boat, accompanied by Kuang Biao and a number of Royal Guardians.

“I love you son,” Dad Sends, and I watch as Huanhuzi drives his cutlass deep into my father’s belly. Even this much is not enough to bring the Bloody Fanged Wolf low as my father swings his crescent moon glaive and cleaves his foe in twain. “Tell your mother and sister I love them as well.”

The cold waters of the Azure Sea rushes up to greet me as I freeze up and crash into the sea below. Time slows as anguish and despair overwhelm me and I open up my senses to the world in a desperate bid to witness what comes next. The waters shimmers around me and part to reveal the world beneath the waves, made aware of every stream and current intermingling in my immediate vicinity, of the dead corpses and dying bodies sinking to the sea depths and the opportunistic scavengers coming out to partake of this feast, but this is not the awareness I seek. Reality blinks out of existence before returning to focus once more as my perception shifts from the material to the immaterial and back, the information delivered not to my fives senses, but to my Divine Sense which then translates the scenes into something my mind can comprehend.

On some superficial level, I recognize that what I’ve done here is similar to what Chen Hongji accomplished in the Central Citadel, a form of Domain Manifestation according to Monk Happy. By committing every corner and street to memory and creating a scaled model of the Citadel within his Natal Palace, Chen Hongji had created what was essentially a limited Keystone which he then manifested to allow him to keep tabs on the Citadel proper. Numerous different Chi workings went into making it all happen, of which Scrying was merely the baseline, but as impressive as the good Brigadier’s accomplishment was, I can tell that I’ve taken things a step further as I observe that which I cannot bear to watch.

For I see more than the movements of the people upon the freighter, more than their last, desperate struggle, their emotions laid bare by their own actions as they wield the Energy of the Heavens in stalwart defence of their lives and countrymen.

There stands Lord of Thunder Lei Gong, a former Lieutenant Colonel of the Imperial Army. At eighty-two years young, his personal strength is almost enough to declare the officer turned bandit a Living Legend in his own right, but the ruddy cheeked elder has never been one to covet fame or glory. No, this man is a patriot through and through, one who goes through life dancing to the beat of his own tune and guided by his own moral compass. The law protects wealth and property more than the lives of the Empire’s people, a fact which disgusts him to no end. His downfall came about when he discovered his subordinates were protecting bandits in exchange for a split of the proceeds, a crime he tried to have the perpetrators brought up on charges for, but they were all too well-connected and their victims anything but. Even a mighty Lieutenant Colonel was not enough to make the charges stick, and for his efforts, he was dishonourably discharged and sentenced to slavery for the very crimes he tried to have brought to justice.

And so began his life on the run after slaughtering his way out of prison before they could force an Oath from him, but while these trials and tribulation would have embittered a lesser man, Lei Gong simply lowered his expectations and tried to save those who he could. Robbing merchants to feed the needy became his noble pursuit in life, while eliminating entire bands of roving bandits turned into his favourite pastime, and for some years, things went well until his former subordinates banded together and sent an Imperial Unit to hunt him down and rid themselves of a thorn in their sides. Were it not for Gang Shu’s timely intervention, the Lord of Thunder might well have died in the wilds without anyone being the wiser, but even then, Lei Gong was driven to continue helping where he could, at least whenever he was sober enough to stand. Drinking became his escape from the demons of his mind, a way to numb the pain of living in a world that rejected his morals, but he has not had a drop in weeks, not since he tested Yuhuan’s first working Runic Cannon.

For now, he can truly live up to his name as the Lord of Thunder and do some real good in the world. Fighting a war isn’t the same as helping the needy, but the Defiled are a plague upon humanity, one Lei Gong is eager to be rid of.

Fighting alongside Lei Gong is none other than Gao Changgong, a man who only recently lost not only his friends and family, but his entire province to the Enemy. There is little grief or anger left in this shell of a man, only an unquenchable thirst for vengeance which drives him to wake up each and every morning. The Martial Path has become his only reason for living, his goal to retake the West, or failing that, to kill as many of the Enemy as humanly possible, but he cares not if he survives or succeeds. So long as he has his weapon in hand and enemies to kill, he is satisfied with his lot in life, and he sets upon the Enemy with a cold and calculating hatred that lacks any and all passion.

A similar lack of passion is found in Daxian the Virtuous, a bitter, disgruntled man in his early thirties whose complete and utter indifference to his own fate is startling to behold. Unlike the Western Major General however, Daxian never had anything to lose, and thus has no personal drive whatsoever. Raised in an orphanage that did little beyond ensure the children survived, the half-rat was eventually found and picked up by his real father, but it was not the loving reunion Daxian had hoped for. Instead, the young boy was thrown into a training camp with dozens of his half-siblings and made to compete with one another for limited resources. The only problem was that GangShu, being an Ancestral Beast, demanded too much from his children and provided nowhere near enough for them to survive. The only small mercy was that most died to exposure in the middle of winter, frozen to death after being left out without so much as a cloak to cover them or even the requisite training to teach them how to survive. Daxian himself almost died alongside them, but was saved by the Tyrant OuYang Yuhuan when she learned about GangShu’s plans. It was under her tutelage that Daxian blossomed into the Warrior he is today, but he takes no pride in his accomplishments and has little attachment to his Mentor, who herself is emotionally incapable of being the loving mother poor Daxian needed.

And so he fights, because he knows nothing else, envious of the lives his younger half-brother and half-sisters have made for themselves yet glad some of GangShu’s children escaped relatively unscathed. There are no regrets in Daxian, for he fights for the sake of fighting, because it is only in combat that he truly feels alive.

Then there’s Kuang Biao, who even now is diving down to retrieve me, angry not because I’ve fucked up and led everyone into a trap, but because he has to escort me away instead of staying to fight to his last breath. The Royal Guardian turned Death Corps Guard has a death wish, and I cannot blame him for it, because where he was once a rising dragon of the Imperial Clan, he has now been relegated to servant and slave. Much like Gao Changgong and Daxian, there is little joy left in Kuang Biao’s life, but there is still plenty of anger and resentment left in him. Some of it is directed towards me, but most is reserved for Grand Marshal Liang Bao Zheng, Shen ZhenWu’s honoured uncle whom Kuang Biao owes his allegiance to. It was under the Grand Marshal’s orders that Kuang Biao sought service under Yang Jixing, whereupon he played the part of bodyguard and spy by reporting Jixing’s every movement to the Grand Marshal’s office. For this, the talented Imperial Scion was offered up as a sacrificial pawn in the duel against Gerel, one in which Jixing wholly expected Kuang Biao’s true status to be revealed.

As for me? I played the part of patsy perfectly and outed Kuang Biao publicly, leading to his current straits, but mad as he is about it, the bulk of his anger is reserved for the Grand Marshal who did nothing to shelter Kuang Biao’s family from the shame.

The poor man has not heard anything from his parents since his punishment, but he knows they are not doing well, because the shame of a slave in the family is enough to make them social pariahs in a world where face is valued above all else. Every night before he sleeps, he closes his eyes and says a prayer wishing them well while blaming himself for their plight, and he knows only his death can ease the shame of his woeful status.

I sense all this and more in the blink of an eye, but I am most focused on Dad himself. There is no sorrow or grievance to be found in my heroic father, bloodied but unbroken as he fights the good fight against his half-Demonic foe, for the Bandit King is a challenge he has not faced since... well, ever. The odds are grim and Dad’s fate all but sealed, yet still he struggles against the inevitable to the bitter end, seeking to kill at least one more Demon, Defiled, or Half-Demon before he goes. His soldiers falter and fall, but still he refuses to succumb to despair, with not a hint of malice or enmity directed towards me for leading him into this mess. Within him burns only righteous anger and even unbridled glee as he takes part in what he believes to be his final stand against the hateful and insidious Enemy, a fine a death as any. His only regret is that he could not see his beautiful mountain rose one last time before he goes, but he finds a hint of dark humour in the fact that he will die before her, after she spent so many years worrying about what would become of him after she was gone. He thinks it’s better this way, because Dad knows Mom is right, that he would crumble apart without her there to keep him sane and happy. She is more than his rose, she is his roots in this world, his sole anchor to humanity now that his daughter is wholly grown and independent, and his son a dragon come into his own. Unlike so many other Warriors taking their last stand atop the freighter, Dad was never one who fought for justice or morals, not like his beloved Mentor and Mother. No, Dad fights because he is in love with death, a hunter and predator through and through. Without the Enemy to sate his blood lust, he might well turn against the Empire if only for the challenge, a man of restless competitive spirit wholly devoted to the Martial Path.

Though he regrets he will be unable to support me any longer, he wholeheartedly believes I will be fine without him, because I am the man he wishes he could have been, the kind-hearted successor his Mentor truly deserves. That’s how my father sees me, and it fills me with warmth and despair for I know I can never truly measure up to his ideals.

I am but a man who tries to do what is right, and only when I cannot ignore the wrongness in front of me. Were I not conscripted into the war effort as a Sentinel and later Warrant Officer, I would’ve been perfectly fine sitting around at home while soldiers fought and died on the front lines. Sure, I spent a fortune opening schools and orphanages to feed hungry children and their families, but only because I was stationed at the Northern Wall and unable to overlook the gaunt, hungry stares of the beggars lining each and every street. People were starving in Shen Huo long before that, and I did nothing about it, because I only stopped in to visit every few months at most, so it didn’t bother me as much. Out of sight, out of mind, that’s how I live my life, and my efforts to right the world only go as far as my own personal view.

All this is made clear to me as I watch these Imperial heroes fight the good fight, and I am overwhelmed by the sheer depth and breadth of emotion surging through the air. The Demons taste it, desire it, but cannot consume it, for they lack that which is necessary to perceive these emotions, or anything outside the spectrum of hatred, sorrow, and wrath.

But I can. And not only can I perceive it, but I can also make use of it, a fact which reveals itself as the cold waters wrap me in a warm and familiar embrace, one that reminds me of what I must do next.

Calm your mind. Focus on nothing.

Draw yourself inwards and open yourself to the Energy of the Heavens.

Seek nothing, find everything.

Be aware of nothing, but awareness itself.

My nerves tingle, from my scalp down to my toes.

The pores on my skin open.

Barriers fall and the truth slips through, revealing what I should have known all along.

My second Awakening in Nan Ping Bay was no Awakening at all, but rather something entirely different.

For three days, I immersed myself in those waters and Channelled the Energy of the Heavens, so it’s no wonder that everyone thought it was a second Awakening, but there has never been a recorded incident in which one person was Awakened twice. No, rather than Channelling the Energy of the Heavens into my Core to unveil the secrets of an Elemental Blessing, those three days in Nan Ping Bay were spent Channelling Chi out tothe waters around me, similar to my efforts to bind bathwater both before and after the fact.

Only this was a feat I accomplished thanks solely to Blobby’s intrinsic properties as a droplet of Heavenly Water, meaning there is more to him than the mere physical, and more than enough to fill an entire Sea.

Now, as I submerse myself in these familiar waters once more, I realize what I accomplished on that fateful day, and why Blobby never responded to my calls ever since. I didn’t lose him, nor did I send him away, or even wholly merge with him as Abbot believes. No, instead, I made him a part of me, then separated myself from the bulk of him, because not only was my body, mind, and soul wholly unable to withstand the power I’d come to comprehend, but I was also too scared to accept the truths that had been revealed to me. I am still scared, terrified even, because I do not feel like I belong in this world, but I have found a life too precious to let slip by and people I love too much to leave alone.

I am Falling Rain. I am Baledagh. I am Rayne. I am all three at once, and none of them in truth, because I am not the same person I was yesterday, nor will I be this same person I am now when tomorrow comes around. Though the Soul is an eternal vessel in which we carry all our emotions and experiences, it is also ever changing because we are always coming across new experiences. Thus, we as people are ever evolving and adapting to these new experiences, and only once we are dead and gone does our very being cease to change.

Dad is not Baatar without his beloved Mountain Rose. For better or worse, Daxian would not be the man he is today without GangShu, nor is Gao Changgong the same man if the West had held. Lei Gong is not the Lord of Thunder without his traitorous subordinates, and Kuang Biao is not Kuang Biao if not for the Grand Marshal. We as people are in a constant state of flux, but I have clung too much to the past at the expense of what lays ahead. I need to stop worrying about who I was or who I am, and instead focus on who I want to be, because with enough time and effort, perhaps I will one day become the hand-waving, spell-chanting, circle-drawing, fire-throwing, dragon summoning wizard I’ve always wanted to be.

I mean, it’s unlikely, but if someone had come up to me ten years ago and told me I’d marry three wives and have more to come, I’d have straight up laughed in their face, so who’s to say I won’t one day rain fire and lightning down upon my foes from atop my summoned dragon on high? For now though, those abilities are out of my wheelhouse, but out here on the Azure Sea, with so many heroes of the Empire standing at my side, I am wholly within my Element.

This is my Domain, and it’s high time I sent these trespassers packing.

Chapter Meme