Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Seventhmonth, 1634 PTS
“I’m going to throw up,” Sashan muttered, holding one hand over her throat. Her fellow disciples did not seem to be in much better condition. She had fought before, but such injuries…
She could still see the sword press through Wue’s back, the disgusting scent of the gangster’s skin burning. It revolted her, bringing back thoughts of the Hadal attack on the sect, and those she had witnessed die before her.
Sashan could admit it, she was scared. It was almost comedic. She, someone who had always been talented at fighting, who had beaten tens of other teens in her time at the sect, and in the streets and alleys of Canvas Town before that. But there was a difference between fighting a street kid and fighting a martial artist, just as there was a difference between a spar and a battle.
Wue hadn’t died, but it could have happened. His injuries could have been worse, and if they had, would her master truly have interceded? Master Orion was harsh, a true denizen of the underworld. She respected his role as her teacher, and appreciated how he satisfied her hunger for knowledge. But she had qualms with his manner of going about things.
“Does anyone wish to go next?” he asked, but was met with silence. Orion sighed. “If you’re so reticent, I can allow you to go in pairs. But be aware, that is not necessarily a safer endeavor.” He then glanced at Sashan, and her stomach dropped as he smiled brightly at her. “My first disciple shouldn’t delay while her siblings take action, don’t you think?”
“Master, I-” she tried to say, hoping to further delay, but it was of no avail. Orion’s smile had not reached her eyes, and she knew that he was serious. With her stomach still squirming, Sashan prepared to accept his order. From the corners of her eyes, however, Sashan noticed Elder Karie narrowing her own, glancing across her own crop of disciples.
“It seems your favored disciple remains hesitant, Orion,” she said. “Reinwan, go in with her,” she ordered.
Though they had only spoken once or twice, Sashan had seen Reinwan around the sect plenty of times before. He was tall and strong, bearing a similar build to Wue. But unlike her martial brother, Reinwan’s talents stood out. It was rumored that, like her, he had been personally praised by the Sect Leader.
He bowed slightly, much more respectful of his master than Sashan acted to hers. It was ironic, given that he was merely an instructional disciple, not a personal one like she was. Perhaps it was simply his upbringing to act in that matter. She had heard that he came from a middle-class upbringing, unlike the vast majority of the sect’s disciples.
After doing so, Reinwan turned, meeting Sashan’s gaze for a moment before lifting a greatsword from his sheath and striding confidently into the arena. She flushed, slightly embarrassed by her own anxiety and hesitation, before awkwardly joining him, retrieving her own weapons from her robes. Unlike Wue, Sashan’s particular abilities had forced her to learn to fight using real weapons, and she carried them with her at all times.
She held a whip in one hand, and a blade in the other, in the style her master had taught her. This fighting style suited her, focused on harassing one’s opponents and wasting their energy. A fine style for one so scared of injury, she thought, negatively.
Reinwan met her gaze once again, his tone still level and confident, as if there were nothing to be afraid of.
“I will be the hammer and shield,” he said, “while you harass them and give me openings.”
“Sashan nodded firmly, gathering her resolve. Though his plan was simple, it seemed an effective tactic, and he seemed confident in his abilities. She would need to place her trust in him.
One of the gangsters who entered the ring this time was a woman, a farsei with hair that had been dyed in a bright red hue. The other was a slender man with a lithe physique. Both held those same blunted swords as their predecessor, and their eyes were filled with determination. Sashan instinctively wished to avert her gaze.
She clenched her fist tightly as she stepped forward, feeling the braided metal of the whip and the cool steel of the sword’s unwrapped handle press firmly into her hands as she breathed out, calming herself. Sashan was not a stranger to fighting, but after what she had seen, the fear was crippling. She did not wish to die. Sashan’s desire was to live a long, warm life of luxury. The sort of life her parents had been deprived of. If Sashan wished to achieve that, she would need to face these fears. Eventually, she might even need to be able to kill for it.
She released the whip’s end, allowing it to snake down and coil on the ground beside her, ready to flick its pointed tip at her enemy. The whip was a complex construction of small mechanisms, perfectly coiled and entwined together. The sort of object that might have taken months of craftsmanship to create had it not been synthesized into being.
To her left, Sashan sensed flowing miasma beside her, and could gather that Reinwan was releasing his genesis stores, and greatly enhancing his physical strength. It was a simple ability, but at such low stages of martial arts, simple brute force was more threatening than complex arts like her own, whose utility depended entirely on its practitioner’s skill.
Suddenly, the female gangster darted forward, prompting Reinwan to step closer and meet her charge. Their heavy blades reverberated, colliding under the extreme force of two genesis practitioners. Stunned from her reverie, Sashan focused on the man, who had followed tightly on his partner’s heels.
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Moving like a flash, the man darted in, seeking a gap in Reinwan’s defences. A flickering practitioner, she realized, and one bearing a movement technique. Knowing she needed to assist her ally, Sashan flexed her hand, sending the whip darting forward at her target. The pointed metallic tip swerved towards him, but at the last moment, Sashan hesitated, and the weapon narrowly missed the man’s shoulder. He ignored the blow and dove in, scoring a shallow wound onto the side of Reinwan’s bicep.
Sashan gritted her teeth, steeling her resolve. Battle was no time for hesitation, regardless of her feelings or of the circumstances.
As Reinwan forced back the martial artist’s charge, Sashan lashed out once more with her whip, tracing a gouging blow across the side of her foe’s cheek. This time, she gained his attention, and he backed further away from Reinwan to focus on her.
“We don’t need to fight, girl,” the man sneered coarsely, “I just want to get out of here, and if you let me win…”
Despite his words, the man’s eerie gaze made her uncomfortable, similar to that of a drunk lecher stumbling down the street. She knew that he simply wished to live, just like anyone else, but…
Sashan knew enough to understand that there was little chance her master would let these gangsters free easily, even if they did defeat her. In fact, regardless of what he had told them, the odds of their survival might have been even lower if they defeated one of his students. Ignoring him, she lashed out with her sword, surprising the gangster, who had to use his movement technique to muster a block in time.
The sei man smiled, showing off a set of suspiciously perfect teeth of a pure alabaster white, undoubtedly the result of surgery.
“You’re a kind girl, aren’t you? You can help us,” he continued, but his movements were steadier now, evidence that he was preparing something. His image stuttered as he suddenly appeared before her in a burst of motion.
“There is a difference between cowardice and empathy,” she muttered, finally mustering her own miasma.
Though her master and most of her martial siblings had chosen to manifest fire, Sashan had taken a different path, one which she believed suited her more. She struck outwards with her sword once more, this time pressing energy through the weapon as she did so. Electricity sparked along the blade’s edge as it clashed against that of her foe, arcing down the man’s blade and forcing his hands to clench. He startled in surprise, nearly tripping over himself as his movement technique was interrupted by the stimulus.
“You sneaky bitch!” he cursed, his coarse language annoying her. Sashan scowled, feeling less pity for the bastard.
Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Sashan glanced over to Reinwan and the gangster woman, who were still locked in a stalemate. The two already had much more scrapes and injuries than they had had before, but none of the injuries looked to be serious, particularly for a genesis practitioner.
Using her other hand, Sashan’s whip snaked out, lashing against the woman’s wrist and forcing her blade away from Reinwan. Sashan pulsed her miasma, sending an electric shock down the whip, forcing her muscles to spasm. She smiled as the sword fell from the woman’s hand.
And Reinwan took advantage, adapting his strategy in mere moments.. He was brutal, far more than she could comfortably stomach. Reinwan used his blade like a cudgel, needing no proper form to crush the gangster’s now undefended throat. The thug barely even had time to react, still reeling from the shock she had received to her hand. She toppled to the ground, blood splattering across the stone of the ring, dripping from her mashed larynx. Her partner froze in surprise at Reinwan’s shocking brutality. In a fight, she thought just one mistake, one moment of weakness was all it took for everything to change. As if by instinct, Sashan moved.
“I can’t believe you just-” the remaining gangster said, before his words were suddenly cut off.
Sashan hand pressed a mere foot forward, and her shortsword slid cleanly into the man’s throat. From such a short distance, she could see the widening of his eyes, the slackening of the hand on her wrist as the gangster slumped to the ground before her, dead. Sashan paused as the reality of what she had done dawned upon her.
“It wasn’t me,” she muttered, dropping her weapons in revulsion and horror, and shoving the corpse away. Sashan’s knees suddenly gave up, and she toppled to the ground, expelling the contents of her stomach onto the stone of the floor. She did not cease until wet bile burned in her moistened throat, and her hands had been steeped in the foul substance.
Sashan hadn’t always been this way. She had once thought herself courageous, the sort of person who would do whatever it took to acquire a bright future for herself, one her parents had wished for her. She had fought without qualms in the entrance examination and the internal competition, and had done well. But… those were spars. It was as her master said: a real fight, a real battle with someone who wished to hurt, to kill you… it was different. Sashan had no problems with fighting, but she did not want to die, and she did not wish to kill anyone. Was that too much to ask for?
For a martial artist, perhaps it was.
She felt a warm palm on her shoulder, and glanced up to see her master smiling down at her, his hand offering a towel. That look… was it pride? Sashan averted her gaze, unable to meet his eyes.
“Good work, Sashan,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”
As much as she hated the thought, deep down, Sashan had to admit that his words made her feel better.
“...Thank you, Master,” she finally said, accepting the towel. Orion patted her on the shoulder, and then returned his attention to the ring, where a pair of dead gangsters were being carted off.
Almost immediately, his eyes had gone cold and uncaring. How many people had he killed, she wondered? Would she be so uncaring, one day?
Sashan could not be sure whether she liked the idea or not.
Seiyal Views on Murder: [Like most humanoid species, the Seiyal have both a stigma against murder and a tendency to idealize it in certain senses. They have strong cultural attachments to ideas of ‘honor’ and ‘face’ that would help to ascertain whether a murderer was justified or not, and whether they are a ‘righteous’ or ‘demonic’ individual. Such views are not unilaterally shared among Seiyal subcultures, and are much more prevalent among martial artists than among mortals. The common Seiyal idea of justice follows an idea taht most races have independently conceieved of: ‘eye for eye, tooth for tooth.’ Unlike races such as the Staiven, there are few Seiyal who express wishes to abolish capital punishment for criminals, and harsh punishments remain commonplace on Canvas, particularly in colonial regions controlled by Sunlit Hall.]