“The path of the warrior seeks not validation of her craft from others, but rather, validation of her craft from her blade. If it sings when sung, she is happy, and when it drinks upon blood, she is satisfied.” - The 999 Teachings of Engkanto Guru Juan De La Cruz

/// IN BARANGAY INARAWAN, IN THE HEAT OF THE DAY

“Oy, all of ya! It iz good you are all so quiet today! Pack our wagon with all yours rice crops before I smash another one!” The shrill and annoying sound of a duwende reverberated.

Jaime was quick. He turned to the four and then gestured for them to move.

They came out to a particular road where, indeed, a house had been collapsed, cut off its bamboo stilts. A mortal lay on the ground, and two duwende stood atop him. Another duwende stood atop one of the duwende and held a weeping woman by the hair.

Sawasiwa cursed behind them as she caught up.

“Where is Datu Paubaya?” Jaime asked Sawasiwa.

She shook her head. “He left to venture. It has been more than a moon now.”

“Well?” The duwende’s voice cut through them. “Get to it then!” And the people began moving, seemingly over to where they stored the rice crops.

Esther sputtled. “Wh-What the hell? Why are you guys following this chump’s orders?”

Everyone paused. Mattheo cringed. Jaime chuckled.

Angela grabbed Esther’s hand. “Esther, wait--”

“And who are you, little girly? So tasty and young?” He cast the woman aside and the three of them walked towards Esther, wavy daggers--Kris--at the ready. They wore no armor, only bahag.

“No, who are you?” asked Esther back at them. “You think you can just come in here and treat these people like they’re your slaves?”

The duwende leered at her, and then the three looked at each other, and then back at her. The one holding the woman by the hair threw the woman to the side and pointed a dagger at her. “Now listen--”

“No, you listen,” snapped Esther, but she didn’t follow up with her words. She simply stared at the black-eyed goblin creatures.

“Fine. We’ll just bring ya back to our den, fuck ya, and then kill ya. How’s that sound?”

“I disagree,” Mattheo was in front of them, and he pulled his leg back, and then twisted his hip bringing his foot into a kick. His Gahum responded to his emotions, his leg burned with azure fury, and his foot dug into the earth, kicking forth an entire chunk of the earth slamming against the duwende, completely launching the creatures off and away from them.

“Thanks for the assist, I didn’t need it,” said Esther.

The duwende were still screaming when they hit their head on the ground, sixty feet away. One of them hit the ground at such an angle and cracked his little snubby neck. The other two got on their feet.

“Bitchiest Mother!” said the talkative one, turning to his friend who had a shock of white hair. “Achupita, go and get Praksi and the Kurita!”

Achupita, the white-haired duwende, did not argue, and shot off to the side to get whoever he was told to get.

“Fuck yous,” said the talktative duwende. “I curse--!”

Before he could finish whatever incantation he was trying to make, a black starling flew over his head, and then shifted into Jaime. Jaime twisted in the air, and slammed a rattan stick straight down at the duwende, and the being’s head burst into gossamer filaments.

Jaime fell to his feet, and then rose. “Let’s not waste time,” he said to the four. “Give chase!”

/// IN THE WESTERN FOREST, WHERE THE RIVER RUSHES INTO THE DREAMSEA

Jaime led the pack, the lower half of his face turning into a dog’s muzzle as one of the tattoos on his neck burned magenta. He sniffed out the route that Achupita used. It was not a hard one, as the duwende simply dashed a straight line across the land and through the forest.

The four of them moved through the forest behind Jaime, and Jaime didn’t move too quickly so that they wouldn’t slip and fall or whatever. They dashed and vaulted over fallen tree trunks and branches. The soil was hard and did not break, and thus, they did not fall.

The sniffing of Jaime led them to a nearby clearing in the forest, where a river ran through. When they approached the clearing, they saw that there was a large structure sitting beside the river, wrapped in greens, reclaimed by the earth. It was a simple stone church, with tree branches and roots sprouting from its four cornerstone pillars. There they saw Achupita running towards it.

Jaime watched and pointed at the running Achupita. They stood behind a huge tree root, which had grown so large that it was as tall as Esther.

“So what’s the plan?” asked Angela.

“Chase. Let your Gahum carry you.”

Mattheo was already breathing a bit heavily, and the glowing blue hadn’t quite left him yet. Angela looked around her, and then nodded. Breathing rapidly, she leapt up… and then did as she was told. She carried herself with a singular Will: to catch up to Achupita.

Her Gahum answered. She was suddenly enveloped in burning white shine, which carried her towards Achupita, and she slammed into the duwende. The goblin thing flew towards a nearby boulder, producing a skull-splitting sound on impact.

Hitting Achupita was enough to stop her momentum. Angela fell to her butt, still burning white. “I did it.” She brought out the rattan stick and readied herself, bringing herself up to her feet. She immediately felt weak, as if she spent everything she had.

Jaime and the others caught up. “Okay, so far so good…”

More duwende popped out of the earth. Two… four… no six. Six of them burst from dirt mounds, some of them wielding sibat, others krises, but most others simply using their sharpened claws and teeth. Without another thought, they descended upon the five of Attainers.

Jonathan was upon them, catching one in midair with a quick An strike of his rattan stick. The impact hit with a satisfying crack, sending the duwende to the ground.

Esther opted to use the knife, coming in close and evading the claws of one, stabbing one with the spear, and then cutting twice at another to prevent them from coming close.

Mattheo burst forward with a stick as well. He tried to dance around them, but one duwende came in close and cut her arm. He cursed out in pain, but grabbed that duwende who committed too much to his attack, and flung him to the floor before him, before cracking his skull with his bamboo stick.

Angela caught her breath first, diving out of the way of a sibat thrust. When that same duwende turned and thrust again, she dodged smaller this time, just enough space to not be hit, and enough space to catch the sibat the duwende was using. Angela pulled and elbowed the flying duwende as it came close, and then kicked him to the side. He breathed still, but the fever of her Gahum overflowing gave him a much needed burst of energy.

More Duwende came out of their mounds, and Jaime only watched. A blitz of violence, an unholy supplication to that violence divinity (who cares not for technique, but only for revelry).

Mattheo saw that the four beginners embraced violence, but it was an imperfect one. They were carried by thoughts--there, Mattheo’s arm is cut by a kris’ strike--and not by the rush of violence--and that, a duwende slams Angela against a rock-- and because of this, they struggle, for violence presupposes struggle--Jonathan is struck on the head by the butt of a sibat--and without a struggle, they will never reach violence--a kris slices Esther’s thigh--and without violence, they will never make God bleed.

Jaime readied to move. His right arm mutated into that of a gorilla’s, large and mutated with shards of broken verdigris shards.

Esther grabbed one of the duwende, slammed his skull into a boulder, and then used that duwende’s sputtering and useless corpse to batter the rest of the duwende into submission, untill all was left was the duwende’s useless head, which was when she flung it to the sky, leapt, and then spiked it to the ground the way a superstar volleyball player can.

Angela was still burning a bright pastel white, as Gahum flowed out of her to keep her awake. She dove into the midst of the duwende and began skewering each of them with her stolen sibat.

Jonathan looked up after swatting one duwende away and saw another brandishing a bamboo bow loaded with arrows dripping with some sort of black liquid, aimed directly at Mattheo. Jonathan yelled--the words were inconsequential, what was important was that he yelled--just, as the arrow flew. Turquoise flame burned through Jonathan then, and his yell suddenly turned into a razor sharp wind, tempered by his will. It struck the black-tipped arrow, and it cut it in half, rendering it useless in mid-air.

Jonathan, carried by his Gahum, was upon the duwende atop the boulder, kicking the duwende off and stealing his bow and arrow from him. To make sure the duwende was dead, he pierced the goblin with an arrow, and kicked him off the boulder. He was burning bright blue now, the tips of his hair burning blue as well. No, not blue. Turquoise.

Jaime couldn’t help but grin widely. He readied the healing puto and the herbal remedies from the Serpent Albularyo.

Jonathan turned around, raising his bow and arrow, and then letting it loose, striking a duwende right through the heart. He picked up more arrows from the rattan quiver that lay beside the dead duwende’s body.

Mattheo turned to see Jonathan burning bright turquoise. “Fuck yeah, Jonathan!”

Esther saw this as well, and so, being inflicted with a rush of inspiration and enthusiasm, turned to the remaining duwende who were still alive. Muscle memory possessed her: she leapt to the sky, raised her hand as if to slap something, and then burned bright crimson. A duwende leapt up to meet her, sibat pointed.

“My turn,” she muttered, but she hesitated. The sudden rush of passion and emotion carried her into the moment, and the urge to call out the name of her attack burst through. “「 SPIKE 」!” And it was so. Her palm slammed against the duwende’s spear and shattered it, carried to the duwende, and then ripped that duwende in half, gossamer threads in place of viscera. Her palm, her attack now named SPIKE, eviscerated the air, sending pure violent force cascading down towards the three, four, five duwende below her. Their bodies slammed into boulders, into abandoned bahay kubo, into pikes and spears that decorated the sides of the houses, where the heads of their enemies and fallen villagers were impaled upon.

But then her light dissipated after her triumphant attack, and she fell to her knees, wincing. “Shit. No, I can still do this.”

Jaime was beside her in an instant, catching her before she could fall. She tried to push away from him, saying that she was okay, but Jaime brought out some puto from his pack, which was slightly green and had no cheese on top. “Eat this. It’ll help. Promise.”

She still looked at him in disdain, but grabbed the puto and took a bite. When she did, relief passed through her, like a healing tide. Her muscles loosened, and felt as if they were being rejuvenated and massaged back into use. In a minute, she stood up again. “What the hell is this?”

“Healing Puto,” said Jaime. “Something the cooks back home are experts of making. The Monastery, after all, is prone to violence.” With that done, he looked about him at all the duwende.

“I don’t suppose you guys would want to feed one some raw duwende, right?”

Esther blinked at him. Mattheo tilted his head to the side. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Right, of course not. Here.” He plucked a single sharpened tooth from five different duwende and then gave each of the four a single one. “Put these in your pack. It’ll be useful for later. Mattheo, come and take a bit of the healing puto. It’ll rejuvenate you for the time being.”

Then, from within the church came out a being twice as tall as Esther, clad in bamboo plate armor, wielding an ironwood kalasag and a bamboo-shafted spear that had a blade also made of ironwood, sharpened to a point, was a red-maned tikbalang. A man with the head of a horse.

The tikbalang man blew out a gust of air. “What is this noise?”

And from behind the church crept out a being slightly larger than the tikbalang. Think of a human, but replace the upper torso with a mass of hands and hair and eyes. That is the thing they were looking at.

“Shit, a kurita,” said Jaime.

“Ha! Do my eyes deceive me? Are you Attainers? Attainers in my little humble abode!” He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the entire multiverse. Jonathan, still standing on the boulder, had a better view of the clearing. There were some hastily put up bamboo stilt houses around the church. Each one had spears ringing them, with the heads of the villagers impaled upon them. He was more amazed at the fact that he couldn’t smell the corpses anymore. How long have they been there?

“Marvelous! This means that if I eat your livers, I will gain exceptional power!”

Esther scowled. “What makes you think I’d let that happen?”

“Hm? Then who are you? Do you not know that I am 「 DATU BARASIK, BREAKER OF SORCERERS」? Surely if you do not know me, then that means that you suffer a horrible death. Your Gahum seems to be weak, barely a flame larger than a candle. How do you think you can beat me? Besides! What do you do here, in this run down ruin?”

“You have been unfairly stealing from the crops of the people of Inarawan,” said Mattheo.

“Unfairly? We went there and we killed some of their people, and then to stop the killings, they began giving what we wanted. What is unfair in that?”

“You’re preying upon people who want nothing to do with you. They cannot even defend themselves.”

“POWER is the only rule in heaven, youngling. Remember that.”

“Then we have the power to stop you,” said Esther. “We have the power to enforce that what you’ve been doing is goddamn unfair.”

“Who is to say what I am doing is unfair?!” He snorted. “God? BATALA is dead, and so will you be too. Kurita, you worthless beast, strike with me!” And with that, Datu Barasik burst forward, sibat poised and ready. The kurita barrelled forward, a mass of eyes and hands and mouths, ready to break things apart with its million muscles.

“Shit.” Jaime turned to the beginners. “Try to distract the Datu as much as possible. Don’t get killed. The kurita is a larger threat. I’ll dispatch it first.” He turned just as the tikbalang was upon them. He shifted into a silver starling to avoid the Datu, and then he shifted into a huge mutated monster thing, something that resembled a walking crocodile, but had the crow-like wings, and the claws and face of a binturong (bearcat), with pieces of silver sticking out at weird parts, as if a strange shard armor. It roared, just as Datu Barasik was upon Esther, his blades out and slashing.

“Esther!” roared Mattheo, as he burst into a great azure lightning, and dashed toward the tikablang. In the next instant, quick with the speed of his scorn, his leg slammed against the tikbalang’s bamboo armor, with the power of an all-star soccer player.

The tikbalang roared, turned to the side and struck Mattheo with his kalasag, sending him flying through the air.

Esther took the opportunity to duck, pick up a kris lying on the side, and cut at the tikbalang’s exposed heels. The cut was not as deep as she hoped it would be, but it was enough for the tikbalang to stumble backwards.

Esther hopped away as Angela flew in, a stolen sibat in one hand and a kris in the other, enveloped in that white flame. She thrust with her sibat, only for the tikbalang to swat that away with his kalasag, and then she snuck in her kris, piercing up and into his exposed armpit. She dug it deep enough for the kris to be buried in a flood of magenta blood.

“Ah, bitch mother!” he cursed and he kicked with a powerful horse leg. Angela flew through the air, but Esther caught her.

“Are you okay?” asked Esther, her eyes wild. Angela gasped for air. The kick had hit square on her chest, knocking all the wind out of her.

The tikbalang was upon them, however, spear held high and ready to strike down. However, a black arrow flew through the air and struck the tikbalang’s sibat-holding hand, and he winced. “Damn God, you are too many!” And he turned to Jonathan and threw his spear at him instead like a javelin. As he did, he reached down to his waist cord to pull out a larger kris, a kalis, sword-kris.

Jonathan dove to the side to avoid the incoming spear, but the spear was fast, and it cut at his thigh, sending his blood flying through the air even as the spear continued on its wicked course and struck the tree on the far side of the clearing.

Esther took the opportunity again to grab the knife from within her pack and used it to cut up the Datu’s leg, slicing straight up and drawing blood. Mattheo regained his energy then, and his eyes still burned with that yellow flame. “Don’t touch my friends.”

He rushed forward, and was behind the Datu. His long arms wrapped around the Datu, even with the bamboo mail, and he lifted the Datu into the air. His burning yellow burned even brighter, and he spun. “Get out!” And he hurled the Datu, sending him flying through the air.

Then, Jonathan was on one knee. As the Datu twisted in the air, he loosed another black-tipped arrow, piercing through the Datu’s leg as the tikbalang crashed on the ground with a sickening thud.

“Damn you all! Fuck all your souls! Fuck all of them to the depths of Idalumnon, all the way to Sulad, into cursed void!” The Datu pushed himself to his feet and found that he couldn’t move the foot that Jonathan had struck with an arrow. Additionally, the Datu couldn’t move the arm that was also struck with Jonathan’s arrow.

“Fine. No more games. Only violence.” With a mighty roar, he threw his kalasag toward Esther, who was still kneeling beside Angela. It flew with such a force that it hit her straight at the head, knocking her to the ground, blood spilling.

“Fuck, that hurt,” her voice quivered, shaken, as she tried to crawl away to safety. “I can’t… I can’t feel anything. Fuck.”

Mattheo was slowing down, but the fever of Gahum carried him, like a metaphysical river. He burned bright azure again and darted toward the Datu, arms open to wrestle, but Barasik saw him coming, and with his working arm, buffered the first grapple attempt with a punch, (although his muscles rippled at the hit) and then slammed Mattheo down onto the ground. His red mane burned a bright green, and so did his eyes and the tips of his fingers.

Jonathan loosed another arrow, and the Datu turned to that arrow, and one of his the golden bangles studded with emeralds burned with that hellish green. Green chains suddenly appeared from thin-air and stopped the arrow taut in mid-air, held suspended by the chains.

“Poisoned weapons? Clever. But it will not be enough.”

“Shit.” Jonathan nocked another arrow and fired.

“Enough!” The Datu leapt forward, over the arrow loosed and binding it with more green chains, and then he was upon Jonathan, one working hand grabbing Jonathan’s worthless frame and raising him and slamming him against the boulder he stood on. “Fuck God, and fuck you!”

“Mattheo!” Angela found her voice again, just as white enveloped Mattheo’s eyes, and his body bent at an unnatural angle, and his bones stuck out of his flesh. He fell to the ground a bloody heap.

Jaime wrestled with the kurita for a significant amount of time. With the Mutation Tattoos, on him, he was able to manipulate, change and mutate himself to fend off against the million strikes of the kurita. “You are young, and I am experienced in the ways of violence. I will break you,” said Jaime, and so he did. He mutated a part of his body to grow a third arm, and he used that to strike at the kurita’s core, breaking the thousand other useless hands that tried to grab at it, and he lifted the kurita into the air. The kurita writhed uselesly in his grasp, even as he mutated six more arms--all a mix of insectoid and saurian--to grab the kurita so it could not move, it could not go anywhere. He brought the kurita to the fence of spears that lined a kubo that had villager heads impaled to it, and he skewered the kurita down there, the body big enough to be impaled by six bamboo spears at a time.

The kurita still resisted, trying to pull itself out of the spears, even as its bones cracked and its flesh fell limp from the spears, so Jaime mutated one arm into one similar to a praying mantis’, except the blade was as sharp as a kampilan, and he cut the being in half.

“Bleed.” And Jaime left the being to die. He rushed back to where the four were fighting the Datu, only to find Mattheo unmoving on the ground, Jonathan a mangled heap beside a bloodied boulder, Esther unable to pick herself up, and Angela shouting out to the Datu.

Have I failed? Thought Jaime, and he was overcome with rage.