Savage Divinity

The somber lyrics struck with the ponderous weight of a thousand mountains, but this was merely the start of a ruinous calamity unlike anything this Sovereign could ever imagine.

The impact stole his breath away and left him reeling in a sea of despair and dejection, dragged into those murky depths by currents of loathing and lethargy which bound him tighter than any chains ever could. Not physically, a quiet and all-too-logical portion of his mind observed, for he was free to move about as he pleased, but the prospect of simply standing upright robbed him of all strength and desire. Falling to his knees, he toppled over into the scorching desert sands and tucked his chin to his chest, cradling his head close before shutting his eyes tight. The sun, the wind, the sky, the sand, the heat, the glare, the shame, it was all too much to bear, so he closed himself off from all sounds and sensations in an effort to stymie the burdensome torrents of apathy and adversity threatening to drown him on dry land. His chest ached with hollow emptiness and his lungs burned from lack of air, but try as he might, he could not bring himself to draw breath. The world spun as his throat closed and stomach heaved in abject distress, his body rejecting the processes required for life itself in response to his mind’s demands that he do just that, for the gravity of his incompetence was too much for him to bear. This was an affliction of the mind and soul, a mad malaise of morbidity and melancholy from which there was no escape, for it stemmed from the deepest, darkest recesses of his existence and had finally come to reclaim him.

This was where he belonged, surrounded by the bleak desolation of his own cheerless despair in a prison of his own devising. There was no sense in avoiding it, no point to rising above it, for even if he were to rise up beyond the Heavens themselves, it would only make the fall that much worse when he plummeted back down into this pit once more, for here in the heart of anguish and misery was where he made his home.

Victory was at hand. That was what a single voice claimed, the thread of logic to which this Worm had clung to for millennia now, yet he could not bring himself to care. Eight centuries of meticulous effort had gone to waste, so if he were to try again, who was to say he would get any further? How much time did he care to dedicate to this cause? Overthrow the dog Emperor? The lowly outer provinces had proved too resilient for this Worm to topple, their courage and determination more than a match for his best laid plans. How laughable a stumbling block for a man of his accomplishments, this loose conglomeration of disorganized bumpkins who could barely see beyond their own paltry desires. Perhaps he would succeed the next time, but behind the outer provinces lay the Imperial Clan, and now this Worm no longer possessed the confidence to face them. The least of the Royal Guardians were comparable to the best the outer provinces had to offer, so while the Living Legends and Exarches might still stand out, anyone beneath them would find it difficult to keep pace with an average Royal Guardian, while the true elites were good enough to hold their ground against any Warrior short of a Divinity.

Not without reason. Unlike the Death Corps whose ranks were filled with rebels, criminals, and the defeated, the Royal Guardians were the Emperor’s elites, and the Supreme Families sent their spare Scions to fill their ranks in order to win honour and glory for their households at the Emperor’s expense. Just like the Academy which produced the finest Imperial Servants throughout the province, the Royal College trained the Empire’s finest military Officers. Every trainee drafted into their ranks received the finest instruction from the greatest Warriors drawn from the entire Empire itself, but such an education could be found within the hallowed halls of any Supreme Family’s manor. No, the true advantage lay in their meals, which were made with the finest Spiritual Plants and the meat of Spiritual Beasts provided by the illustrious Di Family. Again, this was not an advantage unique to the College, but the Emperor demanded the lion’s share of the Di Family’s harvest each season, leaving only a pittance to be split between the Five Supreme Families and their allied factions. As such, even the Grand Marshal and Prime Minister themselves were unable to indulge themselves in cuisine as fine as what the lowliest Royal Guardian enjoyed each and every day within the college walls, where multiple generations of cooks laboured day and night to provide meals to the Emperor’s elite caste of loyal Warriors and Officers alike.

The greatest fires could only burn so long as there was fuel enough to feed it, and this culinary advantage provided Royal Guardians with strength, stamina, and durability unmatched. Such extravagance was largely wasted being consumed for their everyday meals, but the Emperor could easily afford the investment, and the prize was well worth the cost. The Spiritual Plants and Meat helped refine the bodies and minds of his Royal Guardians, which smoothed out the Path to Divinity to allow even the most mediocre of talents to eventually try their hand at Shattering the Void. Most put off the attempt until they had no other choice, and few ever survived, but those infrequent successes meant that the Emperor still counted more loyal Divinities among his ranks than the Five Families combined.

For this reason alone, the Royal Guardians formed the core of the Emperor’s armies, but the Scions of the Imperial Clan were formidable enough in their own right. While phenomenal talents such as Nian Zu, Jeong Hyo-Lynn, and Akanai would still be considered remarkable Warriors in the East, they never would have achieved Divinity without Falling Rain’s help, and the Peak Experts below them were only middling at best when compared to the Warriors of the Imperial Clan. This was because the Imperial Clan as a whole possessed a more complete understanding of the Dao and the Path to greatness. Disregarding the restricted secrets of the Five Families and the misinformation spread by the Emperor himself, the East was still the true centre of the Dao, for the outer provinces were so blind to the truth that most believed the Martial Dao was the only Path to greatness. They’d long since forgotten the accomplishments of Warriors of Legends, ignorant of how the Yang Ancestor wielded the fires of Heaven to burn down an entire province, or how the Liang Ancestor’s flute could compel whole armies to take their own lives. Between the two of them, they respectively presented the West and North to the Emperor himself, almost half of the inhabited lands claimed during the First Imperial Inauguration, but even then there were not the most formidable of the Five Ancestors. The Xing Ancestor was a master of all weapons and a warrior unmatched in possession of three different Intents, a Martial God who only ever tasted defeat at the hands of the Emperor. As for the Tian Ancestor, he was the most feared of all, for though he was unable to stand against the aforementioned three in open battle, if he wanted someone dead, then only the Emperor could stop him.

And then there was the Di Ancestor, whose personal strength was no match for even the subordinates of his fellow Ancestors, yet wielded the greatest power of them all, for he possessed an understanding of life, death, and human biology which enabled him to empower the Emperor’s armies and turn them into a force unmatched.

Of course, most of these accomplishments were only possible before the Treaty came into play, when powerful Divinities the world over combined their efforts under the Emperor’s guidance to limit the Dao from mortals and their ilk. Uniting the Azure Empire had left the world largely ruined and uninhabitable, and no one wanted to see a second Mortal Emperor rise up from amongst the people, for another conflict of this magnitude might well break the world. This alone was not enough to excuse this Worm’s lacking accomplishments however, for though the Laws of the World had been obscured by the Heavens themselves due to the Emperor’s meddling, to still be unable to unravel the Di Ancestor’s greatest secrets after so many millennia immersed in study was embarrassing to say the least. It seemed like the most appropriate avenue to take at the time, or rather the only option given the circumstances. This Worm had no Blessing to follow in the Yang Ancestor’s footsteps, no affinity for the arts to chase after the Liang Ancestor, no supreme strength and Insight to match the Xing Ancestor’s abilities, and no unparalleled natural talent to compare himself to the Tian Ancestor. Though this Worm had dabbled in all four paths at one point or another, his greatest focus had always been on the Di Ancestor’s secrets, for once he had those answers in hand, then the Emperor’s greatest advantage would be no more. This Worm had come so close, yet was still so far, because while his Ascended Transcendents being a close match for the Royal Guardians in quality, the process to create them was nowhere near as versatile. Ascended Transcendents required a Defiled test subject to start with, which in and of itself was a marked disadvantage given the inherent weakness of a Defiled subject’s Will, but this Worm also made use of a different source of sustenance, namely corpse matter and Death Energy rather than plant matter and Life Energy. All Paths lead to the Dao, but this Worm knew full well that his methods were inferior to the Di Ancestor’s.

Granted, the deficiencies in his methods were mitigated by the speed with which he could raise his armies, even after accounting for time spent in preparation. Human corpses and Death Energy were easily obtained and replenished in times of war, and the Western Province alone had resources enough to build an army to dwarf the Royal Guardians and Death Corps combined, but just as this Sovereign stood upon the cusp of victory and success in Shi Bei, Falling Rain went ahead and surpassed this Worm and the Di Ancestor both by providing Insight to the entire Imperial Army.

And this was not the first time either, for the boy had done something similar in JiangHu and again in Meng Sha, yet the Worm was at a loss to explain it. There was so much he had yet to discover, so much he had yet to comprehend, he was a fool to think he could ever overthrow the Emperor, much less the Heavens above. No matter how much firewood you stack together, it all paled in comparison to a handful of gold. What was he thinking, placing so much effort and emphasis on the debased tribes of the Defiled? No wonder his plan had failed, for to make good weapons, you first needed good materials, because no amount of hammering could turn copper into steel. This Worm had provided his Chosen and Defiled with resources and attention enough to improve their physical forms, but they were still sorely lacking in mind and soul. In contrast, Falling Rain only provided his army with Insight and nothing more, meaning their advancements were restricted to the soul alone, yet this was more than enough to give them the upper hand. Whether it be the battle between mortals or Divinities, the Imperial Army would soon seize the advantage and turn the tides against the Defiled forces. Not due to superior strength, but the superior tactics they’d relied upon so heavily to make it this far, as Peak Experts banded together to fight alongside one another while this Worm’s Ascended Transcendents threw themselves into the fray like rabid wolves chasing sheep off the side of a steep cliff.

It wasn’t that the Ascended Transcendents lacked intelligence, but rather their leaders were unable to control them as a whole. There were pockets of organized chaos scattered throughout the battle, small areas where individuals like Vithar and other former Defiled Chieftains kept their allies in check, but their influence was limited at best. Most of the power lay in the hands of Mao Jianghong and the exile Ankhbayar, but they were both massive disappointments. They were too blinded by their own interests to see past the present, too focused on winning their own duels at the expense of the overall battle itself, and too indulgent in their own emotions to care about the consequences. Perhaps things would be different if Bai Qi still lived, but he was little more than an arrogant fool, unable to look past his selfish desires and take in the Dao as a whole.

No wonder this Worm’s efforts ended in so abject a failure, for the Emperor had his five Supreme Generals, while this Worm struggled all on his lonesome with no one to support him.

Oh how it burned to think of the Supreme Families laughing at his incompetence, this Worm’s failure so complete that he was unable to win even after Falling Rain’s allies abandoned him mid-way through the war. His Death Corps guards were withdrawn, his Royal Guardian escorts ordered to slip away in the dead of night, and his reinforcements cut-off and kept out of the fight, and still Falling Rain proved too formidable for this Worm to overcome. Even if given another millennia to prepare, who was to say Falling Rain would not still be there to thwart this Worm’s plans a second time? Though not yet a Divinity, he satisfied all the conditions necessary to become one, and while this was no guarantee of success, this Worm had never seen a candidate more promising than Falling Rain. To think, he already possessed power enough to fight this Worm to a draw as a mere Martial Warrior, not even a Peak Expert in truth, so how much stronger would the boy become once he was a man and Divinity grown? Add to this the talented Scions of the Imperial Clan, like young Shen ZhenWu who might well be the second coming of the Martial God, or the formidable Tian Family Scion who unearthed this Worm in the first place, and the chances of success grew infinitesimally small without accounting for the Emperor himself.

And then there were the hidden reserves of the Imperial Clan, which this Worm knew little about. The Five Families had always been secretive, and this Worm had been too far removed from the Imperial Clan for too long to have any inkling of how much strength they might have hidden away. The Divinities whose names and faces were known to this Worm were long since dead and gone, their bodies entombed beneath the fields of the Di Family farms and their power returned to Heaven and Earth. New Divinities would have been raised to replace them, and now that Falling Rain had discovered how to mitigate the Wrath of Heaven, this Worm could no longer count on the Divinities of the Supreme Families to keep the Emperor’s Divinities in check, for no longer did they need fear a calamitous clash bringing ruin to what remained of the habitable world.

Faced with all these failures and more, what was the point of persevering? All that awaited this Worm was failure and humiliation, for his chances of victory were slim to none now that all the variables had been taken into account. The only way forward was for this Sovereign to become akin to the Emperor himself, an existence to surpass Divinity with power enough to subdue the Five Family Ancestors and the rest of the known world. How laughable a goal, for in all the millennia since the Emperor first rose to power, none had ever come close to matching his formidable attainments. Not even Falling Rain could compare, for the Emperor was a born talent found only once every billion years, the accumulation of fate and karma from who knows how many lifetimes before, a true Son of Heaven clad in human flesh just waiting for the opportune moment to Ascend to the next plane of existence.

This world was his and his alone, with mortals and Divinities alike merely set-pieces to provide him challenge and support on his Path to True Divinity.

There was a time when this Worm sought to contest this, to usurp the Emperor and take his place as this plane of existence’s Sovereign in order to ascend beyond the Heavens. How foolishly laughable, to think that he once dared believe such a goal was not only possible, but that his success was all but set in stone. The Emperor had grown complacent, but not without reason, for this Worm had learned today that the Heavens would not sit idly by while their Chosen Son was overthrown. How was this Worm to fight against fate itself? Impossible is what it was, for the Heavens were too indomitable and unyielding to ever allow a mere mortal to meddle in their affairs. If that was the case, then there was no sense continuing with his efforts. Better to resign himself to defeat and submit to fate, to lie here and await his inevitable death, for there was no chance of victory in sight anymore, not even with ten more millennia to prepare.

Resign.

Submit.

Surrender.

The Razor’s Edge.

Coming to with a gasp, this Sovereign sat up and stared out over the precipice of Unbalance amidst a chorus of disappointed whispers, the Spectres mourning how they just narrowly missed a chance for freedom and life. Though sound of mind and soul once more, the icy cold grip of despair refused to release him just yet and he shivered in spite of the Western heat. Raising an arm to dab at his sweat and sand encrusted face, he trembled from head to toe as he came to terms with his close brush with calamity, and the seemingly insurmountable struggle of clawing his way back to a prudent and rational mind. The damage done by this singular encounter had come so close to destroying this Sovereign’s carefully laid foundation, a bedrock of bold confidence and steely determination which enabled him to not only progress along his Dao to the Peak, but also lord over the Spectres and control them without any disadvantage whatsoever.

It wasn’t always this way. There was a time when their whispered lies held no power over him, their offered temptations sorely lacking in sparkle and lustre, for he’d long since seen through their motives and knew they were unreliable allies at best. Alas, the Spectres were still a tempting source of Heavenly Energy to use and consume, but they refused to provide any boons without giving in to at least some of their demands. Thus, he needed a method to harness the Spectres without succumbing to their lies, and he came up with a most ambitious method indeed. Nigh on centuries went into forging the Dharmic Icon which were his Runic Robes, the very same ones he’d materialized into reality and wore at this very moment, as they did much to counter the Spectres insidious suggestions and close himself off to them, but this beneficial advantage was not so easily achieved. Envisioning the robes was as simple as turning a hand, but imbuing them with the proper significance was a frustrating journey of trial and error.

The concept itself was simple enough, because for most, nudity was intrinsically linked with vulnerability within the human mind. Thus, this Sovereign pitted himself against the Spectres in this most vulnerable state, willingly stepped off the Razor’s Edge and succumbed to their whispers clad only in his skin. Become Defiled, as it were, though it was hardly as cut and dry as the term might appear, for there were varying degrees of compliance that the Spectres were willing to accept depending on the struggle the host presented. Thus, this Sovereign started off his efforts by ceding the minimal amount of control to the Spectres and giving in to their whims until it came time to divest himself of their influence and reclaim his sanity once more. Easier said than done without an Elemental Spirit to Cleanse them, but this Sovereign persevered until his mind and soul were both unsullied by the touch of malignant Spectres. His first foray into Defilement and recovery took a full nine decades and then some to complete, almost a third of the total time spent on this endeavour, yet this was merely wading in the shallows of Defilement. Once he was sound of mind again, he clad himself in those golden robes in life and in the Void, until it became second nature to see himself wearing them once more.

Then, when enough time had passed to steel his resolve, this Sovereign removed his robes and set off for a second foray into Defilement, except this time he went deeper. When he emerged from his madness five decades later, he donned the golden robes for a time before repeating the whole process yet again. Four times, he gave himself over to the Spectres, each time giving more and more of himself away, until the fifth iteration where he held nothing back and gave himself wholly over to the whims of the Spectres’.

A harrowing process which left him a man changed, for this was the dark period in his life when he became known the Empire around as Zhen Shi. This was nigh on eight-hundred years ago, but the gradual degradation into sheer depravity haunted him to this day, for though he’d long since cast aside his earthly morals in order to pursue Heavenly ambitions, this period of his life was the first time he’d truly relished and indulged in the darker desires that he’d once scorned and scoffed at. It shamed him to say that it was possible to track his descent into madness by reading his journals, and he shuddered to think how close he came to throwing so many millennia of effort away, for he remembered the grave risks and narrow escapes all too well given how limited his strength and control were at the time. This Sovereign’s Path had long since been built upon logic and reasoning, so ceding control to his emotions was akin to crippling his Dao. As a result, even a paltry Peak Expert posed a significant threat to his life, and his rampage throughout the North had attracted far too much attention before he recovered sanity enough to realize the gravity of his circumstances and humility enough to actually worry.

Of course, there were no rewards without risk, and this Sovereign had gained much from these trials and tribulations, such as a thorough understanding of the Razor’s Edge he never would have attained without these indulgences. There was also the discovery of how one could find Insight and Inspiration through the artistic infliction of death and suffering, to say nothing of the empirical data he obtained from all his experiments, but the price had almost been too costly for this Sovereign to bear. The injuries were ones of the mind and soul, but they were so grievous that he dared not go ahead as planned to immediately inhabit a new host, fearing he would lose in a battle of souls even against a newborn babe. In fact, he was so lacking in confidence that he continued to delay those plans until he discovered how to graft his mortal flesh to a Transcendent instead, at which point he no longer needed to find a new host. A most useful discovery, but one that limited his future potential, though those sequelae and many more were all fixed during his Ascendence to nascent immortality.

Yet this unwelcome brush with Falling Rain’s innermost emotions had left this Sovereign far more damaged than all his forays into Defilement combined. Before, this Sovereign willingly put aside his Dao in order to take it up later, but now Falling Rain had delivered a blow directly to his Dao itself. Logic and reasoning above all else, this was a succinct summation of this Sovereign approach to life and the countless trials and tribulations to follow. Intelligence was mankind’s greatest advantage, yet all too often, humans were wont to succumb to emotion when making decisions instead of adhering to sensible suggestions. A paradox that, for though they were creatures more than capable of working together for the greater good, emotions often compelled them to turn against one another, even at grave detriment to themselves. It was all too easily seen in the self-destructive tendencies of the Emperor and his Supreme Families, avoiding progress out of shared self-interests since any change could be detrimental to their personal causes. Foolish is what it was, millennia of advancements stalled because of one man’s hubris, and this Sovereign would not stand for it. He’d always known it would be a difficult struggle, an uphill Path from start to finish that could take millennia to traverse, and though he’d encountered setbacks and stumbling blocks many times before, this Sovereign had always held true to his ideals and the belief that he would ultimately one day find success.

Until today. Now he was no longer so certain, for Falling Rain had crafted a dagger of most insidious doubt and plunged it deep into this Sovereign’s psyche, leading him to reflect on all his shortcomings and wonder if all his efforts were for naught.

The Spectres had little to do with it anymore, their futile efforts to shake this Sovereign’s resolves almost laughable in their simplicity now that his Will was readied, but the boy was ever the enigma. How could one man have so many doubts and regrets, especially one so young as Falling Rain? That was the only way he could have delivered his Orated attack, by manifesting those same emotions within himself to pass along to this Sovereign, yet the sheer scale of apathy and self-derision packed into his brief and succinct chant was staggering to behold. It was akin to seeing a garden snake regurgitate an elephant with laughable ease, wholly unexpected and seemingly impossible, but the truth was right there before him. Even now, as this Sovereign sat shackled by with shock and surprise, he found it difficult to equate the emotional ordeal he’d only just survived with the fresh-faced boy before him. Hidden inside this bold, brash, arrogant youth was a behemoth of anxiety and indecision stemming from a lack of trust and confidence. There was nothing this boy would not doubt, whether it be his own findings, the findings of others, or even what he saw with his own eyes, and only when he was certain would he truly set his doubts aside, yet how could one ever be wholly certain? This was the mindset the boy struggled with each and every day, one of apprehension and self-castigation as he struggled with his flaws and inexperience. The boy was still arrogant, but only because he set such impossible goals for himself and was surprised every time he failed to accomplish them, or simply accepted it as a matter of fact when he somehow performed a miracle to match his untenable expectations.

The boy was right. This Sovereign knew nothing of misery, for Falling Rain’s entire existence embodied it in a way few could ever understand. Still laid out in the sand with his limbs broken and askew, the boy’s slack smile slipped away as he let loose with a mournful sob. He’d come so close to snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, so close to driving this Sovereign off the Razor’s Edge and into a soulless oblivion, and yet this accomplishment meant nothing to the boy. All that mattered was that he’d failed, and his failure was merely a matter of course, for he suffered from a lack of trust and self-confidence which he dealt with through apathy and delusion aplenty. From start to finish, he believed himself to be a fraud and failure despite his lifetime of lofty achievements, and every step along the Path merely another step closer to inevitable death and defeat, and he would maintain this same outlook even if he led his army to an overwhelming victory and retook the West without a single casualty.

No matter his accomplishments, Falling Rain would never be satisfied with his work, and this Sovereign almost pitied him for his dismal and disheartening existence.

The boy’s gaze met his, and this Sovereign saw only misery and indifference hidden within those oh so expressive eyes. Killing him would be a mercy, but one which would be denied him, for this Sovereign needed the boy alive. It was more than mere greed, had become more than an obsession, but an unconditional requirement for victory. Only by securing the boy in hand and unravelling his secrets would this Sovereign be able to mend his wounded mind and soul to regain his confidence anew, for this child had struck him a blow so devastating that he’d lost all assurance in his own methods. It wasn’t a matter of Sword Intent, Dharmic Icons, Devouring, or the Elemental Spirit, nor was it any of the other mysteries hidden behind Falling Rain’s eyes, but rather an all-encompassing need to show him that this Sovereign was not the same, that his Path had not been tread in error and that his efforts were not in vain.

The boy had planted a seed of doubt and apprehension within this Sovereign’s mind, and until he could expunge it, he would forever be crippled by this uncertainty.

The Energy of the Heavens surged and swelled, and this Sovereign shot to his feet in alarm, retreating over a hundred metres out of the misguided notion that the boy was readying another strike. The thundering beat of his pounding heart drowned out all other sounds as this Sovereign found himself covered in cold sweat, yet as he studied the boy further he discovered he himself was the last thing on Falling Rain’s mind. Gaze distant and features slack, the boy laid in the sands here in the physical world, but inside, he was drowning in an ocean of misery of his own devising. To think, the boy’s Path was so similar to this Sovereign’s own, Balance born through Imbalance albeit of a different nature. Now however, Falling Rain had broken the boundaries he’d imposed upon himself in order to strike this Sovereign down, and he was suffering for it, unable to recover from the depths of despair he’d subjected himself to and teetering over the same precipice this Sovereign had only just recovered from.

How fitting, for Falling Rain to die upon his own sword, one of abject misery and contemptible self-hatred beyond compare. He would give in soon enough, succumb to his despair and depression to become this Sovereign’s pawn once more, proving that his Path was indeed the correct one. Still shivering from head to toe, it took a supreme effort of will to calm his frantic nerves and settle in to await his prize, a malleable puppet who would be a slave to his whims, one wholly entranced by the Spectres’ whispered lies. Granted, the Elemental Spirit might not allow any Spectres to take root within the boy’s Soul, so this Sovereign readied a blow that would cripple him in body and mind. Not an ideal outcome, for it would be difficult to interrogate the boy if he couldn’t physically speak, but this Sovereign was fast running out of time and options both.

The moment the boy succumbed or showed signs of recovery, this Sovereign would seize him in hand and be away from here, away from the Ancestral Hare and Rabbit both as well as the Emperor’s influence, where he would then have all the time in the world to prepare for his eventual return. These recent trials and tribulations had almost been this Sovereign’s undoing, but this prize was well worth the effort.

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

Well, there you have it, ladies and gents.

I failed. Game over man, game over.

Zhen Shi is still alive and well, while I’m over here so wracked with emotions I can’t find Balance enough to Heal my broken bones, much less put up a decent fight. Why did I ever think it would end differently? Look at him, and then look at me, then look at him, and look at me, and you can clearly see the difference between us. I was never meant for this world, never meant for this life, a reject in every sense of the word. Stillborn and forsaken by my birth parents, I only survived thanks to the mercy of my younger twin brother, who I then killed instead of dying so he could live. I mean, that’s only fair right? His efforts bought me a few extra years of life, so I should’ve repaid him by making it easy to kill me. He didn’t want to do it, but he had to, and I know this, but what did I do? I fought back and killed the only person who ever cared about my well-being. No one else ever showed me any kindness, not my parents, not my peers, not the other Defiled villagers, not even the Heavens themselves, for it would have been a mercy for me to die in my infancy.

First, I stole this life from the Heavens, then I stole it from my brother, then I stole it again as Rayne, who was also me all along. I’ve been living on borrowed time ever since I drew my first breath, and somehow, I think I’ve always known this, yet in spite of it all, I still cannot bring myself to die just yet.

Unwilling though I might, I fear I have no choice but to accept death regardless, for there are no other options left to me. Cradling Mama Bun close, it occurs to me that I should send her away to relative safety, but I can’t bring myself to let her go. Just another example of my selfish and heartless ways, dragging my sweet bun-bun to death alongside me. At the same time, I hold Buddy close in the Void and wonder if he can survive on his own, like a free spiritual entity similar to the Spectres. Better yet, what if he can merge with Blobby like my Natal Soul General? Then Buddy would be a self-sustaining Soul through and through, a Balanced Spectre of sorts, one who can hopefully make his way over to Pong Pong’s Natal Palace where they can be best friends forever. I’m pretty sure Blobby is why Pong Pong showed up in the first place, so I try to impart my thoughts to the Elemental Spirit as best I can, but all Blobby does is loom over me in a hungry and unsettling manner.

It's not just me that doesn’t like it, as Buddy starts growling at the Heavenly Tear, his hackles raised and chest rumbling to make him sound way more threatening than he looks. It’s all a ruse, because Buddy doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and would sooner roll over to greet a robber than bite one, so I just stroke his fur and hope for the best while I prepare for the inevitable end.

“Hide,” I Send to Pong Pong, because powerful though he might be, I fear he’s no match for Zhen Shi. The day we first met, the tiny Divine Turtle knocked out four Divinities, my teacher among them, but none of them were prepared for a barrage of Emotional Aura, but after my last attack, Zhen Shi would be suicidal not to have his guard raised. In fact, he’s so alert, I can actually feel his emotions closed off to me, like an almost invisible surface plastered across his body, mind, and soul in reality and the Void both. Yea, there’s no way Pong Pong’s Aura could break through, since with Aura, it’s much easier to defend than attack, and without the advantage of surprise, the little Divine Turtle stands no chance against Zhen Shi. I doubt Pong Pong can hit harder than Grandpa Wolf, and I know he lacks the killer instinct needed to slay his opponent in a single strike, so rather than drag him to death alongside me, it’s better for him to lay low and survive as best he can.

Hmm… maybe if I Hone Emotional Aura, I could crack open Zhen Shi’s defenses, but I’m all out of feelings now. I drained the swamp of all emotion in order to power that attack, years of repressed sorrow, misery, anger, hatred, resentment, and more all given up in my last strike, and now there is only apathy in its place. I have no fight left in me, no hope for tomorrow, only tired resignation of my fate. I will die here today, and though I know my death will bring pain to the people I love, the decision is out of my hands. I would love to go back to Lin-Lin and wrap my arms around her waist, to tell her how sorry I am while twirling her about. I’d love to do the same to Mila and Yan, give them both a big kiss and grin as their lips protest but their eyes demand I keep going. I’d love to give Luo-Luo a proper hug, and Li-Li a pat on the head, then see Dad, Alsantset, Akanai, and everyone else in turn before stopping to cuddle my floofs for at least an hour. I want to hoist a drink in celebration with the soldiers who fought alongside me, and pour one out for those who died. I want to congratulate Mister Rustram for a battle well fought, tease Fung about falling in love again, and throw an arm around Wu Gam’s shoulders so I can see him squirm as I introduce him to as many lovely ladies as I can. I want to shake Huu’s hand and pull him into a hug, and share a smile with Zian as he stands apart and warns me away, the young Patriarch too proud to hug in public. I want to shake the hand of every new Divinity, Peak Expert, and Martial Warrior, raise support for my bid to see Chen Hongji promoted to Colonel General alongside accolades for every soldier who took part in this campaign, while setting aside some time to talk to Liu Xuande about what to do next. I want to reclaim the West and resettle everyone who was displaced, raise the funds to rebuild everything that was destroyed. I want to return to Central in triumph and glory, hold my head up with pride as I lock eyes with Shuai Jiao and silently promise bloody retribution for his betrayal, but not before I destroy his reputation and legacy both. I want to become the Warrior, a hero of the Empire worthy of this life my brother gave up for me. I want to make this world a better place, not just to satisfy my ego, but so no one will ever have to suffer like I did, and no one will have to die like my little brother. I want to be strong and hold my head up high, to look in the mirror and not hate myself, to remember Baledagh for what we shared rather than how we parted ways.

There’s so much more I want to do. All those small dreams still apply, and there’s so much I’ve left unfinished. Seems strange that I was all ready to die only minutes ago, in the process of making the ultimate sacrifice before quietly fading away without anyone noticing until it was too late to say goodbye. Whether it be nihility, reincarnation, Heaven, or some other afterlife awaiting me, I didn’t really much care, but Lin-Lin showed me how wrong I really was.

I care.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to leave everyone behind.

And more than anything else, I want to live.

So how ironic is that that I am now closer to death than ever, with Blobby here to offer the gift of nihility and oblivion only after I no longer desire it?

Perhaps this is for the best. Even if I survived, it would be a fate worse than death. I’m so tired. Everything hurts. My enemy is too strong and I’m helpless to resist, so I would really be better off with a quick, clean death. Would it even be death, or would it be oblivion and nihility? What happens to a Cleansed soul? Would I become one with Blobby, or would I be processed and pooped out as usable Heavenly Energy for Buddy to partake of? Even with death upon me, my curiosity knows no bounds, and I lay still as the Elemental Spirit slowly stretches out to surround my soul without touching me.

Buddy does not like this, and he sets to barking as if to warn Blobby away. “Shhhhh,” I whisper, silencing my sweet doggo with a kiss on the forehead, and his whimper shatters my heart into pieces as I push him outside the boundaries of Blobby’s transparent grasp. “I’m sorry puppy, but I don’t think there’s any other way.”

And it’s true. Despite everything I’ve done, everything I’ve accomplished, my only options are death or suffering. Ha. Life is suffering, how apt. This time however, there is no longer any hope, because Zhen Shi is just too formidable a foe to go up against. It’s unfair really. The dude is an eight-hundred-year-old Divinity, whereas I’m only twenty-one, plus however many years of memories my past life counts for. Let’s say thirty for a sum total of fifty years of life experience, though I would argue that a man as obsessed with memes as I was probably doesn’t count for much in the maturity department. Whatever, I digress. Either way, if I had eight-hundred years to figure this Heavenly Energy shit out, I would definitely be strong enough to squash Zhen Shi like a bug. I mean c’mon, I almost took him out as is, so imagine what it would be like if we had a fair fight.

But alas, this is not to be. The Heavens demanded too much of me, but even with all the odds stacked against me, I almost delivered. So close, yet so far, and it would appear my Path ends here. Fuck you Heaven, and you too Mother Above, because this was not even remotely fair, but if you want to make it up to me, then please take care of everyone I hold dear. That’s all I can hope for now, as I cease my struggle against misery and despair and await the inevitable, because there is nothing in me left to give. The Spectres sense my weakness and capitulation, appearing out of nowhere inside the Void as they rush to seize my mortal vessel and reshape it to their liking, but I know Blobby will end things before it gets too far. I’ve become Unbalanced, which is why he’s been looming closer and closer, for he’s gotten a taste of my soul before and hungers for more.

Well, dinner is served Blobby. Eat your heart out, but I would like to make note of my objection.

The Elemental Spirit drifts over to engulf me whole, and I hold my gaze in place out of a stubborn determination to meet my fate with eyes open. No idea what that will change, but my brother kept his eyes open to the very end, so the least I can do is try and match his courage. It all happens in an instant, with Blobby stretching and wrapping around me in the blink of an eye, except rather than death or oblivion, I hear Buddy snap with a malevolence I’ve never heard from him before. The Elemental Spirit hesitates, and this is its undoing as Buddy goes to town as if Blobby was a doggy treat and he’s been starved for days.

So like his typical reaction to food, really.

I blink once. Then a second time, followed by a few more as I try to make sense of what just happened, because while I’m pretty sure my dog just Devoured Blobby and all the Spectres to boot, I’m not exactly sure what to make of it. Meeting my eyes with a hangdog look of mournful contrition, Buddy gives away the act by wagging his tail and glancing up every half second to see if I’m buying it. Amused as I am by his antics, I’m also relieved I wasn’t broken down and Cleansed, because honestly, that seems like a pretty shitty way to go. Blobby isn’t really gone either, because I can still sense him in Buddy, and honestly, neither one seems any worse off in this new arrangement. I may be guilty of anthropomorphizing the Elemental Spirit more than I should have, because I’m pretty sure he was simply reacting to circumstances as a quasi-sentient blob of Heavenly Water would. My soul was on the verge of becoming not just Defiled, but Demonic and unnatural, so Blobby was going to Cleanse it, but then Buddy stepped in just in time and Devoured the Spectres and Blobby both. It didn’t magically do away with my depression, but it interrupted the Demonification process long enough for me to get a hold of my emotions and find Balance once more.

I succumbed to a moment of weakness, but a moment is all it takes unless you have Blobby and Buddy both on your side. Both are still present and accounted for after arriving at some unspoken agreement, likely no different from the agreement I shared with Blobby. New host, same circumstances, except Buddy is much better at this Balance thing than I am, and thus in no danger of being Cleaned. Patting my furry friend on the head, I sigh and say, “Good dog,” while checking him for any side effects and considering my other options. Well… Option, really. Singular.

Where there is life, there is hope, so I suppose I must suffer a little while longer.

Lifting my head to look at Zhen Shi in reality, I find him a good way away instead of looming over my defenseless body. Cocking my head in curiosity, I give up on trying to figure out his thoughts and flash him my best smile instead. “Well… this is kinda awkward, but you were supposed to die just now, so… do you mind?”

I mean, it can’t hurt to ask, right?

Chapter Meme