They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die, but I’ve never found this to be true.

Usually, I’m too busy trying not to shit my pants and stay alive instead of reminiscing of fond memories, but seeing how Not-Gen refuses to let go while he’s busy turning into a Demon and my life is essentially over, a little introspection couldn’t hurt. It’s not like I have much of a life to go over seeing how I’ve only got seven and a half years of memories, starting from the day I arrived in this world as a short, scrawny, amber-eyed kid with memories of a different life and a skull-splitting headache. Chained to a wooden post inside a dirty, dark pen, I awaited my turn to be sold to the highest bidder, so afraid and confused I don’t even remember how much I was sold for, and while things eventually got better, things got a whole lot worse first. I’ve come a long way and forgotten a great deal since those hellish days in the mines, but I will always remember the fear and confusion of those first few hours, and no matter how much I wish it were otherwise, I will never forget the pain and suffering which followed.

From the first day I opened my eyes in those slave pens, there’s only one thing I’ve been 100% certain of: I don’t belong in this world. Pretty sure the world knows it too, which is probably why it hates me. My issues with Balance, the calm and the storm, my lacking Insights and Awakening, all of this was the world rejecting me. I know this now, because there is no calm and no storm anymore as everything I worked for, everything I claimed for myself, returns unto the world. There is no void and no bedroom within it, no nightstand upon which the wooden goblet sits. Bereft of their vessels, my Chi and Keystones have already dissipated into nothingness, while my claimed Heavenly Energy is no longer mine and flows away along with all the hopes and dreams I hinged upon it. Though intangible, I can feel everything I collected from cleansed Spectres seeping out of my broken Core in drips and drabs, months of hard-earned efforts and thousands of lives going to waste, including the lives of my soldiers. Soon, nothing will remain except my memories and regrets, and even those will be lost when my life comes to an end.

I should’ve gone to see Mom sooner so Taduk could Heal her with Heavenly Energy. My family has given me so much and I’ve been nothing but a burden from start to finish. Now, it’s too late to help them with even a single thing, but at least my death will free them from the stress and hardship which comes with being a part of my life. They’re tough people, so even though my death will hurt them, they’ll get over it soon enough, even sweet Tali and Tate. Mom will eventually recover her full strength on her own, and Dad will be over the moon to have his wife in good health and reputation in good standing. They both still have a magnificent daughter who will make them proud, not to mention a humble son-in-law who will do anything to make his wife happy. Akanai and Husolt will be strong as always, there to console Mila who’s not as tough as she pretends to be, but they’ll get through it together. Yan has her Grandpa and big brother Kyung, and Luo-Luo will probably dance with joy when she hears I’m gone, so I have nothing to worry about there. Song will probably stoically wait for someone to claim her chain before running back to SuiHua to claim my floofs. The only ones who worry me are Taduk and Lin, but I’m sure the rest of my family will pitch in to help out, because that’s what family does. Eventually, all the people in my life will move on, and I’ll be a fond memory they talk about every once in a while, instead of the giant dumpster fire they have to go put out at least once a week.

Look at that. My whole life covered in the blink of an eye.

Seven and a half years of hardship and suffering, struggle and conflict, trials and fucking tribulations, all for nothing. Their blades melted and gone, the ruined remains of my Spiritual Weapons drop to the ground where they ring ever so slightly in a final death keen before falling silent. Peace, Tranquility, and Unity, they were mine and mine alone, each one a part of me in body and spirit, a physical extension of my metaphysical self. More than just weapons, they were the tools with which I would use to survive in this harsh and unforgiving world, but now they are nothing more than trash to be tossed aside or melted for scrap, leaving me kneeling here broken within, and broken without.

But wait, there’s more. In case the emotional pain isn’t enough to render me helpless, there’s a deluge of physical pain accompanying it. Emptied of Chi and left to face the world without its protection, I become all too aware of how reliant I’ve become on mystical strength and toughness to survive on this hellish world. My head is so heavy I can barely keep my chin off my chest, and having my arms held up strains my muscles so much they’re liable to rip. As if reading my mind, Not-Gen releases my arms and they drop to my sides like leaden weights, splashing heavily in the bloody mud to send a fresh wave of torment through me. Though soft and wet, the mud has the texture of broken glass, or at least that’s what my Chi-deprived hands think. Even gravity seems more forceful than usual, and every breath I draw is misery and suffering as my organs protest at the movement and my lungs struggle to inflate. The sun, the wind, and even the cotton shirt under my armour burns, stings, and chafes against my skin, a minor discomfort in the grand scheme of things, but this more than anything spells out my lot in life.

The world hates me. Without the ability to steal Heavenly Energy and convert it to Chi for personal use, I can’t even survive direct sunlight for too long. Without a Core, I’m weaker than a basic commoner, because unlike me, they’ve been accepted by the world and granted a measure of resistance from the worst it has to offer. Peasants are weak, but I am a whole level below them in feebleness.

At least I won’t have to suffer for long.

No one’s coming to save me. They saw what happened and they also know I’m better off dead. That’s why my protectors haven’t stepped up to help, why they left me kneeling before the transforming Not-Gen in complete and utter silence. They’ll wait for me to die, then come avenge me, because no one wants to look after a cripple, especially one who had so much promise. If I survive, I’ll be nothing more than a reminder of what was lost, a living representation of failure and a burden to all who love me.

Death would be a mercy.

Or... perhaps there’s still hope.

My Core is destroyed and my Martial Path crippled, but this isn’t the only path to power in this world.

Do the Defiled have Cores? Or do they find power a different way? I can’t Devour Spectres without the void, but... I could let them in. I can handle the whispers, especially since vigour and resilience are part and parcel of the Defiled package. I wouldn’t even have to stay Defiled forever. Mahakala said there was a way back, and I’m willing to bet the benefits remain. Whereas Martial Warriors mostly use Chi to augment their natural strength, Defiled seem to use Spectres to boost their basic stats. True, most Martial Warriors also get big and beefy, but that’s not automatic, else I’d be a towering giant by now.

Even if turning Defiled is a path of no return, why shouldn’t I take the leap? What’s stopping me? Morality? Why should morality supersede survival? This is a matter of life and death, and if given the choice, why would I ever accept death?

I deserve to live. I deserve to be free. I have struggled and endured for all my life, and I’ve gotten nothing for all my hard work. Maybe it’s time I tried something different for a change.

It would be so easy. No hardship, no vagueness, just strength for surrender. Real, tangible strength, strength I’ve known before, like when I faced Laughing Dragon and his cronies on the shores of Western Treasures lake. That was me. I could have it again. I could be a Warrior even with my Core shattered and body crippled. I remember it clearly, the Energy of the Heavens flowing through my body as I fought and killed all who stood against me. Power bent to my will and the Forms unravelled within in my mind, invincible and unstoppable until there were none left to challenge, a veritable force of nature given flesh.

Gods I was strong then. Khishigs on an open field, Ned!

...

Hahaha...

Overcome by mirth, my low chuckle builds into a hearty laugh as I raise my head to the Heavens, tears streaming from my eyes at the sheer stupidity of it all. Here I kneel, crippled and about to die, and still my brain thinks it’s an appropriate time to make pop culture references. How can I not laugh?

I can’t say for certain, but I might be in shock.

Blinking to clear my vision, I see Not-Gen still standing before me, his smarmy, arrogant smile slowly giving way to confusion and uncertainty. “Is little Devourer so amused by impending death?”

Deciding it’d be too bothersome to explain the glory of Bobby B, I instead ask, “What impending death? If you wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead.” It’s weird how calm and composed I sound, like I’m actually sane. “So... You’re the strange voice I sometimes hear in my head.” Surprise, then pride as Not-Gen nods ever so slightly in confirmation, though I’m not sure it was on purpose and not more of an involuntary response. “I thought I told you to shut the fuck up?” Wow, when Not-Gen turns red with anger, his whole body glows. That’s probably him readying fire to burn me to a crisp, but totes worth it. “Take a hint. Stop trying to make it happen. It’s not going to happen. I like me the way I am, crippled and all.” Thank the Heavens it wasn’t a literal God, just a weird, body-snatching Enemy Expert who is apparently obsessed with me. Probably not a good idea to go diving into Gen’s Natal Palace then, considering this weirdo has the home-ground advantage and more experience. Having paused the Demon Transformation mid-way, Not-Gen is even less human now that he’s fused with his Runic armour in an amalgamation of flesh and metal, not unlike his hands already were. “Neat trick, stopping the transformation like that. Care to share how it’s done? I’ve been trying to make bear hands a thing forever now.”

Not-Gen’s emotions flash across his face, and I finally understand how everyone else always knows what I’m thinking. Anger, suspicion, skepticism, then dismissal, he decides I’m no real threat and says, “An endless font of surprise and frustration, little Devourer proves his mettle once more. Broken and defeated, yet still hopeful, still defiant, this Sovereign laments the loss of so worthy a pawn, far superior to this failure We inhabit.” Reaching out with a metallic hand, Not-Gen’s smile returns in full force, but his eyes give away his inner turmoil, no longer certain he wants to make this offer. “One last chance, little Devourer. Join this Sovereign, and power and glory will be yours. Refuse, and death will come, but not to you. You will live until everyone you hold dear dies before your eyes, knowing full well you are responsible for all their pain and suffering. Their deaths will take months, their torment immeasurable, and you little worm, will know regret.”

Why argue? The Empire already hates me, so why shouldn’t I join? All I want is for my friends and family to be safe, so why should I care which side I stand on?

His subtle persuasions are a lot less effective when I know where they’re coming from, and Not-Gen realizes it too. Sucking his teeth in irritation, he changes tack and his cajoling whispers turn into blunt threats and menacing intimidation, but that’s the wrong way to go about it. Torture and abuse might make me break, but threats against my family will only make me angry.

But what can anger give me? Nothing. I need power. I need the Energy of the Heavens, but the world denies me, rejects my efforts to wield it. It wants nothing to do with me, for I do not belong here, but I don’t care anymore. If there is no place in this world for me, then I will make one for myself. Even now, I still feel the Heavenly Energy seeping out into the world, Heavenly Energy which I worked hard to collect. It belongs to me, so even though the world is taking it back, I will not let it go without a fight.

I have no Core, but so what? A Core is needed to keep Chi from turning back into Heavenly Energy, but this Heavenly Energy is already Mine. If my Core is destroyed, then I’ll just create a new one, an external Core to trap My Heavenly Energy and separate it from the world’s Heavenly Energy. Seizing all the anger within, I discard and unleash it upon the world like a weapon, Visualizing my Intent to sever myself from the world around me and claim this area as my own. This is my realm, my territory, my space and mine alone, for even though the world rejects me, I reject the world in turn.

Fuck you world. This is my Domain, where I rule supreme.

Overhead, the carved wooden roof of my pristine bedroom takes shape and defines the limits of my Domain, a sight which only I can see. The pressure eases and I breathe freely once again as the world stands helpless to obstruct me, for now I am the calm, and I am the storm. Pushing myself to my feet, I take a moment to study my Domain, modelled after the Natal Palace I thought forever lost. Though only the ceiling remains, it is as detailed and intricate as I remember, though it curves and deforms against an unseen obstruction around Not-Gen, which I understand to be his Domain pressed against mine. Domain against Domain, much like Aura against Aura, and I instinctively move to Hone my Domain and shred his to pieces. Not-Gen’s eyes widen in surprise, then fear as his paltry Domain threatens to crumble beneath my assault. “Truly a heretic,” he snarls, retreating from the pressure, his face twisted in sheer rage and disbelief. “Standing in utter defiance of Heaven. A curiosity, but one which cannot be left to grow. Die, Devourer.”

A pillar of fire erupts from my feet and all I know is pain and light. Opening my mouth to scream, even this is denied me as the heat sucks the air from my lungs and leaves me to suffer in silence. My clothes melt and skin cracks as the fire devours and destroys, then all sensation is lost as even my nerves are rendered unto nothing.

Water.

I need Water.

This is the last thought in my mind as the world fades to blissful darkness.

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

No.

This is not how it ends.

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

The storm clouds cast a dark pall over Sinuji as Falling Rain knelt battered and defeated before the Enemy Emissary Gen. The world seemed prepared to mourn the loss of the Mother’s Chosen son, but Falling Rain was not yet ready to go quietly into Her warm embrace. Even with his Spiritual Weapons broken and Core shattered, our unfaltering hero laughed at his foe, his actions clear as day despite the Enemy’s attempt to muffle and isolate him from his allies. Raising his head to the Heavens in open contempt of the Enemy, Falling Rain’s actions lifted the spirits of all who witnessed it, a valiant warrior laughing in the face of death. Taking things one step further, Falling Rain struggled to his feet and the half-Demon Gen scurried away, his fear evident as he came face to face with the Mother’s Chosen Son, a warrior short of stature, but one who towered above all others.

Still, this did not seem like enough to save our young hero from death. Even the likes of the Tyrant OuYang Yuhuan, Lord of Thunder Lei Gong, and Eccentric Gam couldn’t break through the dozens of Demons arranged against them, some newly formed during the Enemy’s blood-fuelled sacrifice of their tribal comrades, while others emerged from the ground or materialized from shadow once the Enemy’s dastardly schemes were revealed. Formidable creatures of death and destruction, they worked in concert with imposing Defiled Peak Experts clad in Runic armour to thwart all efforts to rescue Falling Rain, causing grievous injuries to the above Experts and the numerous nameless Bekhai guardians sent to guard him in secret. Alas, the resistance was too staunch and these great heroes were too late, and all hope was lost as flames engulfed our young hero, a blazing conflagration from which nothing short of the Mother’s Divine Intervention could save him.

So intervene, She did.

The inferno burst apart in an explosion of steam and smoke, and the blackened form of Falling Rain emerged from the obscuring clouds. Ensconced in a sphere of streaming water, it flowed about him in a protective field to guard against further attack, but little remained of our valiant young hero aside from charred tissue and scorched bone. The sight elicited bewildered gasps and heart-rending screams from all who saw his horrific plight, but true to his title of the Undying, Falling Rain’s grievous injuries gave way to healthy flesh as he regenerated before our eyes, Healing himself from the brink of death as only a Student of the Medical Saint could. A testament to his fortitude, Falling Rain refused to cower behind his defences or flee for safety, though none would blame him if he did, for he had only just survived by the slimmest of margins. Bearing grisly wounds which would have incapacitated even the greatest of Warriors, Falling Rain raised his shrivelled, burnt arm and hurled a lance of piercing water at the Emissary, and the two fated foes joined battle in earnest.

Clouds of smoke and flashes of light veiled their duel in shadow, the Mother and Father clashing through their chosen instruments, but it was not a battle fated to last long. Overhead, the shriek of metal and air drew all eyes towards it as a shooting star descended from the Heavens and slew a powerful Demon, one who only moments before stood ready to dispatch a fallen Bekhai Expert. Only then did we realize reinforcements had arrived, ten-thousand strong riding to Sinuji’s rescue on quin-back. Many have heard the idiom, ‘A tiger father begets a tiger son’, but the same rings true for a dragon mother, for it was Mountain Rose Sarnai’s spear which slew the Demon before returning to her hand, only to be cast out once again. One throw, one kill as she rode to her son’s aid, slaughtering Demons from a thousand paces despite still recovering from heavy injuries suffered in defence of the Empire.

Not to be outdone, the Bloody-Fanged Wolf dropped from the skies and landed with a crash, his hair-raising howl of fury chilling the blood of friend and foe alike. Unstoppable in his rage, Demons fell like cabbages before Major General Baatar’s Bloody Fang and Crescent Moon, wielding sword and pole-axe with consummate skill as he braved fire and Ichor without flinching to save his beloved son. Joined by other Peak Experts of the Bekhai and Empire, they fought their way through the pack of Demons and Defiled to reach Falling Rain’s side and sent the Enemy fleeing before Imperial Might. Mere moments after their hasty retreat, the storm-clouds burst overhead and unleashed a deluge of rainfall to celebrate the safe rescue of their young namesake.

And thus, the Mother’s Chosen son survived to fight another day, broken, but undefeated.

-An excerpt from ‘The Storm over Sinuji, a saga of Falling Rain’, as written by Han BoShui

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

Blinking the darkness out of my eyes, I’m treated to the sight of my beloved family, all hovering about with smiles and tears a plenty. Kissing my left hand, Yan nuzzles it against her cheek while Mom squeezes my other hand tight, smoothing the scratchy blankets over my chest. Alsantset and Charok stand behind her, holding each other close in visible relief, my older sister unable to decide if she should hug or hit me while Charok beams with pride. Arms interlocked with Song, Mila and Lin’s beautiful smiles sandwich the lovely cat-girl’s scowl, while Taduk rests his chin next to my pillow and sighs in relief, his joy warring with exhaustion from keeping me alive. Kneeling beside him, Dad strokes my hair ever so gently while wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his stony expression. “Good,” he says, nodding in heartfelt approval. “You survived. Good.”

Wracking my brain for memories, I draw a complete blank after being engulfed in fire and ask my family to fill me in. Upon hearing their tales of how they fought off an army of Demons and my awesome, water-wielding prowess, I try to summon Heavenly Energy to do my bidding only to draw hellish torment and suffering upon me. Once my screaming and flailing dies down, Taduk pats my cheek and soothes my pain with his Healing touch. “Don’t try to use Chi, Rain my boy. Your Weapons are broken and Core shattered, so leave it be. You wouldn’t try to walk with two broken legs, or lift anything with two broken arms, yes?”

Swallowing my pain, I gasp, “Then how did I...? Will I...” Silence falls over the tent and no answer is forthcoming, because they don’t know either. The pity and sorrow hurts almost as much as trying to use Chi, so I clear my throat and try to lighten the mood. “Well, I may be a cripple, but at least I’m a rich cripple.” No one laughs and Mom breaks the awkward silence by insisting I drink some water. Agonizing as it is to sit up, it’s not so bad once the moving is done with and the room stops spinning. With Dad propping me up, I drink deep from the cup and realize how thirsty I really am, draining two more cups before Mom tells me to take it easy and rest. Leaning against Dad’s shoulder instead of lying back down, I change the subject and ask, “How did you all get here so quickly?” We were expecting reinforcements, but Dad should’ve been stationed five days march away and we only learned about the Defiled army three days ago. Even if he set out the minute he got the message, there’s no way he could’ve made it here so soon.

Blinking in muted surprise, Dad tilts his head and his wolf ears flop to one side. “We left as soon as we received word.” After a moment of shared confusion, understanding dawns and he laughs, a cheerful sound I don’t often hear. “What I mean to say is, we left as soon as we received word from you.” Reaching into his pouch, Dad unfurls a letter for me to read, the letter I wrote upon returning to Sinuji a week ago, telling them how I made Gulong remove his own tongue and asking for advice, as per Hongji’s suggestion. “Luckily for us, Tursinai wasted no time delivering it, else I fear we might not have made it in time.”

Going by the time line, Dad isn’t exaggerating when he says he left right away. “...Wait. You rode out with an army because I said I was worried the Society might act against me? Not that I’m complaining, but it seems a bit much, no?”

Rolling his eyes, Baatar scoffs. “I wanted to empty the citadel of cavalry and rush to your aid, but Nian Zu would not allow it, because he does not know you like I do.” Reaching out to stroke my hair again, he chuckles and adds, “You are stubborn and intractable, and you never ask for help, so when I read your letter, I knew the situation must be dire indeed.”

Smiling so wide my cheeks hurt, I happily accept the pain and sink into Dad’s chest, knowing I’m safe with my family here to protect me. This is where I belong, wherever I have loved ones to be with. I’m crippled, but alive, which beats the hell out of dead and whole, and it’s not like I’m utterly without hope. There’s at least one person who broke a Spiritual Weapon and went on to become a Peak Expert, so even if I never reach those staggering heights, there’s a good chance I make it out of this whole. Besides, I totally remember forming a Domain, and while I’m not entirely sure how it works without a Core, Natal Palace, or Aura, I’ll figure it out with some help. Plus, there’s all the stuff I did while I was unconscious, namely forming Water Shields and Water Spears while keeping myself alive while burnt to the bone, so I’m probably still secretly awesome somehow.

It took seven and half years to get where I am, so if I have to do it all again, it’ll probably only take half as long, if not less. And I’ll have bear hands too, soon as I figure out how to quasi-demonize... Hell, by this time next year, I bet I’ll be back on the front lines fighting again.

...

Maybe I shouldn’t be in such a big rush to recover and take some time for myself. I deserve a little R&R, and it’s not like the Empire won’t survive without me.

...

Fuck it. Even if the Empire doesn’t survive, I don’t give a shit. So long as my family makes it out okay, then the Empire can go to hell.

Chapter Meme

Chapter Meme 2

- End of Volume 25 -