《God Obliterating Vajra [Dharmapunk Progression Wuxia]》 [1.1] Slit The Throat Of Self-Doubt
"Though we drink of apocalypse, let us revel. In the light and in the love. Tomorrow and ever after. Let us not turn away from life''s darkness. Swords forged from sorrow. Armors crafted from tumult. Let us wield that handleless blade, so that the petals may fall to the pond. Even in direness, let us turn the Wheel, so that we can finally attain Revolution. Love has left us behind. Love is for the next ones, who will come after us. Let us pave the royal road to enlightenment with our mistakes. Cut the throat of self-doubt. Walk, move forward. Do it for the world. Until all beings are free."
A light refuses to go out. A burning flame.
At the beginning of all things is darkness.
Did you know that at the beginning of all things, the first thing that arose was sound?
"Raxri."
A name. An epithet. A vow.
An anger. A wrath.
"Raxri Uttara, thy tale endeth here, and so shall it begin. Walk... until all the heavens and all the hells... have danced to your song."
A laugh. The voice continued: "Walk. Walk! Ye, once-dead! Let the world realize thy madness: you have been killed. Find out why... and enact your vengeance." The cackle of a mad woman caged within the husk of a man. "Until all beings are free."
Until all beings are free. A thought from our dear Raxri''s mind. Arising, dependently, from the prodding of the Mad Fool.
The cackle of crazy wisdom pierced the gloom.
Raxri awoke... ...half-submerged in ankle-high water. It glowed azure, blue tendrils reaching to the night sky. The body was rent of all clothing, of all armor. Skin the color of brightening dawn. Hair floating about them like a dawn halo. Lithe yet muscular. A dancer of the sword.
Raxri''s eyes opened; eyelashes long. Lotus-like. Their scarlet eyes dim... shorn of memory.
The swordstress'' body floated upon a shallow pond. Bright blue liquid lulled them to peace, to sleep.
Above them, through their eyes, the Sword Moon leered. His gleam bathed them in the light of pallid undeath. A giant edifice framed the moon: an arch with the middle removed. Two spires creating a gateway¡ªa Divine Gate. Its adobe was a deep red. Blood used to bind it together.
Raxri''s eyes grew heavy. The lulling movement of the softly moving pond beckoned them to sleep''s farthest shores. They could choose, right then, to leave¡ªto slumber again under the warm, almost rejuvenating glow of the blue-light pond.
A kindly voice told them, from the back of their head: It''s time to rest. You''ve fought all your life. It''s time to surrender to oblivion. Finally find extinction!
Raxri closed their eyes.
A gravelly, demonic voice uttered: walk. That sounded more like them.
The words of the Holy Fool...?
A vision of a scowling, scornful buddha. Wrathful heruka. Ready to strike. Ready to kill.
Walk. Walk. Walk. Not yet time for your death. Walk Raxri Uttara. Cultivate again Compassion. Wield the blade of Karma. Walk until the Path becomes the Destination.
Raxri... Uttara.
Walk. Rise, Raxri Uttara. Revolt against your own undoing. Let your blade find those that have betrayed you. A sound, a rock clacking against hardened soil, sounding like a final, gasping laugh.
Raxri Uttara rose from the waters of rejuvenation, water dripping from their form. As the liquid sapphire slowly left them, their soul bound itself again. Reconstitution.
Raxri shivered and then took their time to ground themself. They were wounded, naked, alive. A large gash on their belly, another across their chest. Incredibly, the wounds seem to have healed, turning soft pink.
The pain persevered.
The pain blossomed into anger. Who did this to me?
Raxri¡¯s tattoo itched, ink writhing like worms under their skin.
Raxri expanded their awareness, encompassed the darkness. 10 bodhisattva statues surrounded them, each meditating in a lotus position. Raxri knew they were bodhisattvas, as ascertained by the moon haloes about every single one of them, but they could not remember their names. Each wielded a distinct weapon: a longknife, a pewter staff, a bow and arrow, an arquebus, a longsword, a greatsword, a spear, prayer beads, a crossbow, and then four sets of hands.
Each of the bodhisattvas hummed a single note. A continuous drone. Singing of oblivion.
At the edges of the chasm, they could sense corpses¡ªcadavers¡ªall rotted. Most of them were now just skeletons. An unnerving alertness arose from them. Looking at one, Raxri could swear they could see a soul''s Eye staring back.
Their awareness continued to expand. There were a set of clothes from a mound nearby. Neatly folded.
Neatly folded? Raxri couldn''t complain. They took their chances. They walked over to the folded set of clothes and took it. "Monksrobes...?" they muttered to themself.
Without any other set of clothes to cover themself in, they took on the monk''s garb: a sarong combined with a simple, scarlet wrap shirt with cap sleeves. No slippers, no over-shawl, and no undergarments. But that''s all right: Raxri knew they couldn''t be too picky with their current predicament.
"No monk am I. Nevertheless..." they turned to the bodhisattvas. Muscle memory rang clear: Raxri folded their hands in front of their head, lips, and heart. They didn''t know what it meant; all they knew was that they had done it before, and so it felt like second nature to them. Like breathing. Or smiling.
They turned and walked towards the last thing they became aware of: the opening that led to a corridor. As they neared it, they noticed a bronze mirror¡ªthe frame of it a giant imp-like demon¡ªleaning against the opening. It was exceedingly dirtied, and part of it had fractured off. No doubt, this place must have been some sort of ritual importance, now abandoned.
Upon the mirror, they saw themself: brown skin, white hair, fair build, veins upon their forearms. The build of a martial artist. A tattoo wound around their forearm, written in an ancient script, arranged in such a way to form an ink talisman.
Raxri breathed. They followed the path.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
The chill wind and the nakedness became thoughts behind them. They came to the cognizance of their aching bones and throbbing wounds. Indeed, the pain still persevered. I must find a place of repose first, they thought to themself, so they walked. That was the command of the Holy Fool, after all.
Their feet pattered upon a cold, hard, cavernous rock. Despite the darkness raveling about them, they felt a nakedness beyond physicality. Spiritually, they felt bare. Flensed clean of both sin and virtue.
Their thoughts were a vortex: Where am I? Who am I? Why... am I here? Was I embroiled in some crime? Was I left for dead? This did not seem like a place for joy and laughter... It feels like a temple, of some sort. Was this a temple? A temple for the dead? Was I carried here?
Their walking brought them to a doorway. A bulging-eyed, sharp-fanged demon god stood atop the arch. It whispered a mantra. Again and again.
Raxri''s throat tightened, a white-hot knot of unspoken words.
Keep walking. Raxri uttered their own mantra. They walked through the doorway, ignoring the eyes swiveling to watch them. They arrived at a clearing in the cavern. The rugged and craggy rock turned into smooth gray stone, with patterns of overlapping circles engraved onto it. The rippling circles of a stone dropped into a still pond.
Light illuminated the hall. Raxri looked up to notice whiteglass lotuses housing white smokeless fires in the shape of perfect spheres and bulbs of light. Four-armed, bulging-eyed guardian spirit sculptures held up each lotus housing. No doubt, due to the march of time, some of the sculptures have lost their arms and hands.
Lotuslights? The nervous system of the temple was a network of electric circuitry etched into the bone of its stone walls. The circuitry rippled out of holes in circles: a pond constantly disturbed. Who made these? To whom does this temple belong to...? What powers this temple that it continues to run despite being in a state of disrepair?
Raxri''s feet padded upon cold stone. Nephrite pillars lined the sides of the corridor, stories of warfare and justice carved onto its bas-reliefs. Many of the pillars are crumbled, no longer supporting the stone roof.
Foot after ragged foot: Raxri''s walking led them to a broken stairway of blue jade, so blue that it could''ve been considered lazuli. A beat, as Raxri slowed down. Can I jump it? Might as well try. Things can''t get any worse. With a grunt, they threw themself over the crumbled-away pit and easily onto the other side, clambering onto what was left of the blue jade stairway.
They breathed. Their physicality returned to them like a long-lost pet. They hauled themselves onto the stairs, noticing that the blue jade glowed an almost unearthly blue-green. Is this some sort of guide to my path? Is this similarly powered by what powered the lotus lights?
Raxri let out a shaky breath. Nowhere to go but forward.
There, two giant ogre statues flanked a narrow set of stone doors. Flanged shoulder armor, eyes bulging and fangs twisting. Raxri breathed. Are these... directional guardians? Yakkas? Demon Guardians... The direction they''re facing is what they''re guarding against.
Raxri paused and looked over their shoulder. What manner of evil did they seal...? Or am I the evil?
A beat. Raxri decided that the ogre statues were not going to move, not going to assail them¡ªat least, not yet. They placed their hands on the two stone doors, hewn from stone and engraved with the same overlapping circles rippling across them. In the slight darkness, Raxri could make out, squinting, the little flecks of stars scattered across them. The night sky reflected from a rippling pond.
Raxri''s muscles awoke like dragons uncoiling from stone as they heaved and pushed the doors straight open. Their muscles spoke: Hey, this is your body. You were so comfortable in it once.
Like a friend reaching out a hand to help, Raxri was suddenly imbued with strength.
The doors groaned. White dust billowed. Loose stones tip-tap fell onto the ground. The machinery within the doors creaked and groaned and protested... until finally acknowledging Raxri''s latent strength.
The doors swung open like a jaw unhinging, stone teeth grinding against the floor. The night wind was a cold hammer striking Raxri''s face, body.
The smell and touch of freedom, a slight glimpse at liberation. Raxri''s hair whipped about them, their sarong fleeing from the touch of freedom.
Raxri moved forward. The night sky was cut by a clean stone path flanked by bamboo groves that lead into a cliff. A curtain parted: a shooting star streaked across the starry night sky.
The Gash of the Invincible Blade Princess cleaved the black of the sky.
Inhaling the cold air, Raxri felt the warm rejuvenation catalyzed into vigor. They stepped forward, bare feet embracing the cold stone at first and then eventually the harder, weed-choked stone path as they stepped into the bamboo gateway.
Beings watched them from between the shadow of the bamboo. As is well: they were unnerved by the utter lack of spirits inside the chasm they crawled out from.
Deep inside them, they knew that the world they walked upon was the world of spirits, not man. To stake one''s own kingdoms and empires is to accord with the gods that walked upon the grass, danced about the clouds, swam across the trees, and warred in the seas. Or to subjugate them. But the cycle of subjugation abounds, unlike the mutual trust of the accord.
The stone path was eventually choked by grass, soil, roots, and underbrush. The spirits always reclaim what is theirs. Raxri walked upon dank soil until they found themselves near the cliff''s edge. There they beheld the vista:
Overpowering the scene was a titanic strangler fig reaching into the sky. It held the Firmament, or at least a part of it. Further, craggy spires scoured the sky, the fingers of a long-dead giant. Clouds dance about it in mockery. You will never touch the sky! In the valley below, smoke wafted up and dissipated into the black. Multi-roofed wooden shrine structures jut out from the lower mountains, stopping by a river. The river fed into a small village of stilt houses and cottages until a lake, at the mouth of the valley, where a city walled by the roots of the titanic strangler fig slumbered.
To their east, past the jagged mountains that formed the southern part of the valley, were more coastal towns, similarly slumbering, with nary but slight torches to keep them alight, to ward off bears, tigers, and crocodiles.
Immediately to their east, Raxri saw the dirt path that led down to that coastal region. A destroyed wagon lay upon its middle.
Raxri inhaled. Their muscles creaked and moved. They felt as if rusted cogs began moving on their own within their bodies, ready to carry them where they needed to be. They took a step forward when--
"Oi!" A man peeked out from the path. Clad in bandit''s garb: a dusty and torn sarouel, a sleeveless, collar-less vest, and a cloak that covered his face all the same. His hair was shorn on its right side. A tattoo branded the left side of his face. Not a talisman. "Moon''s out, guts''re in!"
Raxri bit their lip, stepped back. "Please, patience, good sers! I am lost!
"Lost? At this time of night in the midst of the forest? Don''t fuck with us!"
Another man stepped in, wearing much of the same, though this one had bright blonde hair contrasting his burnt caramel skin. "Jugi... Do you not think it foolish to deal with that one? Witness: it bears monksclothes, and walks out of the Vault of Souls."
"Fuck the monkrobes Ruru! The Wizard''ll pay all the same for a good piece of esoterica," said the other bandit, stepping closer and brandishing his longknife[1]. They pronounced "esoterica by uttering every syllable. Mocking.
The blonde bandit frowned, staring at Raxri. "Look at its eyes. That¡¯s no dead thing. That¡¯s... a woman?"
"What stygian business would a woman have in the Vault of Souls[2]? What kind of demon mockery is this, ha?"
The blonde bandit paused for a moment. Then they said: "Did not the wizard say to look out for a dawn-haired chick?"
Jugi, the dark-haired man, said: "Oh. The Heaven Dancer? Right, the wizard said look out for a heaven dancer with white hair! Could that be...?"
Sighing, the blonde bandit raised their kinked-up longsword. "Even if it isn''t... the wizard''ll pay all the same. I''ll be damned if I shirk the commands of heaven." The two of them lunged.
Raxri inhaled, exhaled. They fell into battle meditation. In that meditation, they trusted their body''s memory.
Something blossomed in their body. No: multiple things blossomed in their body. Raxri could see it, burgeoning like a lotus.
First, at their groin area, their Yellow Secret Chakra.
Then, at their liver: the Green Abdominal Chakra.
Then, at their chest, the Crimson Heart Chakra.
Then, at their neck: the White Throat Chakra.
Finally at their forehead, at the top of their head, atop their blinking Third Eye (invisible, still): their Azure Crown Chakra.
Raxri was a keening thunderhead, about to explode. In their Liver, a mystic Inner Fire suddenly burned, sending their Inner Winds flurrying in every direction.
What... what is this? What power do I hold?
Against all the gods and the buddhas, without weapon nor armor: Raxri moved forward to meet them.
  1. Longknives, also known as sundang or machete, are single-edged blades, heavy, capable of both chopping and piercing. They are the most common form of weaponry in the Utter Islands, used not just for battle, but for cooking, gardening, pathfinding, and farming.??
  2. A hallowed pit the far eastern tip of Padma. Otherwise known as the End of the World. Souls thrown here are kept in thrall for eternity, removed from the Wheel of Wandering and forced to dream eternal.??
[1.2] The Devil Witch
"Welcome a wound for a friend. No greater compassion there be than one in correct self-sacrifice. However, be vigilant and wise: to sacrifice yourself for the wrong thing is not virtue, it is foolishness." Treatise on Self and Non-self by Soreh High Preceptor Onisantapa
The moment their intention was set, Raxri felt their flurrying Inner Winds and Fires settling. They moved instinctively.
I will keep you on this earth, the mystic Inner Winds seemed to say.
Doubt is the greatest fetter. Let us strike with the speed of lightnings! the mystic Inner Fire seemed to respond.
The black-haired bandit swung his longknife. Raxri moved in a diagonal pattern. An advanced stepping technique: the Triangle Blade Steps. Not quick enough, however: the knife cut into their wrap shirt, loosening it, revealing bits of their skin.
The blonde bandit arrived, licking his lips. He unleashed a steel onslaught with his longsword. Raxri settled into meditation: they duck and wove, stepping back, maintaining perfect distance to avoid each sword strike. After the assault, Raxri kicked away the flat of the amateurishly swung longsword with their bare foot, disarming the man. That movement led into a second kick--oblique, straight into the side of the bandit''s leg. It did not crack, but it bent in an unnatural angle and the bandit fell to the ground.
"Hells--!"
Raxri would not stay to watch their reactions. They bolted off, leaping over the destroyed wagon and running down the dirt path, toward the coastal region. Behind them, the men shouted: "Oi! Get her, get her! The damned bitch flees!"
Raxri ran. They ran and ran and ran. Raxri''s body gasped out. "Help!" they yelled, knowing no one would come to their aid. The spirits--those that they became aware of--watched in curious interest. Their running led them eventually, down that tapering cliff, into a backdoor leading into the inside of a temple complex.
A bulging-eyed, tongue-lolling demon god cradled the doorframe. To the right of it was a broken temple section, walls crumbled, pillars visible, and the roof caved in. That must be where those graverobbers came in through, Raxri conjectured.
With nowhere else to go, Raxri dove in through the doorway. The doorway led to a section of the temple where other lay practitioners would offer prayers to various pools of lotuses, upon each a God statue. Though now the statues each had been broken and fractured.
Straight from the doorway, through a stone path choked now by white sand, was a wooden ladder that led into a wooden elevated porch, then eventually a doorway into the main worship place of the temple. "There! Get the bitch; they''re in Hell King Temple!" The voices of the bandits yet again.
Hesitation was surely defeat, and so Raxri ran. Straight up the ladder and eventually into the wooden temple complex. Breathing heavily, they stopped as serenity lanced through them like a giant''s arrow.
Stillness. Quiet. Pervaded the worship area. The lacquered wooden floor was dirty, now. A giant horizontal doorway allowed cold air to seep in. Wooden pillars carved with the stories of Gods, Bodhisattvas, and Buddhas held up the vaunted roofs. To Raxri''s left, the front of the room, was a giant sitting god sculpture, painted light blue and gold. Seated upon a lotus throne, a giant and serene-looking god, a half-smile on his face, yet eyes bulging as if in wrath. In one arm it held a long dagger with a hilt decorated with a trident with its prongs facing inward. In another hand, it held a skull. A wheel-halo hung from above it, and an aura of crimson flame was sculpted around it.
A tang of familiarity to Raxri.
Lying prostrate in front of the hell-king, however, was a feminine figure, swaddled in multicolored veils, sarongs, and robes. Her hands and ankles were ringed with golden bands. Her feet were earthen brown, but her hair laid in an almost perfect array from her face, with straight bangs creating a visage akin to that of a shrine maiden. Her arms and legs were heavily tattooed, and against it her much-too pale skin brightened even more.
As Raxri stepped in, the woman arose from her prostrated position. A black veil covered the front of her face. When she looked at Raxri, she parted her veil, revealing eyes the color of the amber of stars, and eyeshadow scarlet against her pale skin. Her eyebrows were slight, her cheekbones sharp, almost masculine. Her hair was the color of raven night.
She stared.
"In there!" The bandits'' voice arose from behind Raxri.
"Hoy, think twice, Jugi. The Hell King will not take kindly to this impending violence we are to commit upon his grounds." The other bandit replied.
"I''ve no care for the gods. You think the gods care for us at all? No! Think you we would find ourselves in this predicament if they did? Now cease the pussyfooting and kill the bitch!"
Raxri''s eyes widened. They ran to the middle of the room and turned, putting their body in between the woman''s and the two bandits. I brought the bandits here. It''ll be my reponsibility if this woman gets hurt.
The woman''s voice resounded: "Why do you stand here?" Her voice was low, almost angry.
"The bandits," Raxri replied. "I will not have them harm you."
"I doubt you will be able to defeat them."
Raxri shrugged, scared. "Nevertheless."
The two bandits burst through the doorway, blades waving. "There! Get''em!" When Jugi the Dark-Haired Bandit saw the prostrated woman, he added: "Oho! And a second course meal too!"
The bandits lunged, blades flashing like steel serpents.
Raxri lowered themself, hands at the ready. They were going to fight, whatever it took. They made sure that the devotee was behind them. No way I''m letting her get hurt. She will be safe, even at the cost my life.
But as the bandits closed in, the woman laid a firm hand on Raxri''s shoulder--her hand was deathly cold--and moved past them. The woman threw her veil in between Raxri and the bandits, occluding the bandits'' vision. Then her other hand twisted into a mudra, one pointing with her pointer and ring fingers.
"O Dak Emmara Senje, King of the Hells! Aid me in my path, and forgive me for the violence committed in service to your peace. Deliver the ne''erdowells to their proper elysium! AUNG WARIL--" She pointed her fingers in front of her and pulled back as if drawing back a bow. A beat, she waited as the two bandits were aligned--quicker than Raxri could see--then she released it by flicking forward her middle finger. "--RUSAGA!"
A pin-thin point of light shot out from the tip of her middle finger, the color of breaking twilight. The light-beam skewered through both bandits in a single line: her veil was miraculously thrown to the side, just enough for the beam to avoid it.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
No blood was spilled. When the beam dissipated, the two bandits fell to the floor, a clean hole straight through their livers.
"No quarrel have I with bandits," she said, her voice calm yet angry, yet focused. "I have quarrel with men of no moral."
Raxri watched her for a moment. The woman-witch put on her shawl once again, covering her, and then turned and bowed three times before the statue of Emmara Senje. Then, she turned to Raxri. "State your objective here."
Raxri gulped. "You slew them. With magick...?"
"You''ve yantra tattoos around your forearm. Act not like you''ve been blind to sorcery your whole life."
"I-I''m sorry. I haven''t... Forgive me. I am Raxri Uttara."
"Raxri Uttara." She stared. "A monk are you?"
Raxri shook their head. "No. These... these are just garments I found when I left that chasm..."
"Chasm...?" She turned and looked in the direction where Raxri arrived from. "You arose from the Vault of Souls?"
A beat, then Raxri said: "That is what the bandits have claimed it to be called."
"Then you... you are once-dead. You yet live...?" The woman raised an eyebrow.
Raxri looked down on themself for a moment. Then they said: "I haven''t the faintest idea, lady! I''ve no certainty how I got in there, and I''ve even less certainty of how I got out. But... perhaps you can help me. Reorient me? I am shorn of memory..."
The woman stepped back. "Deceive me not with this act!"
"I would do no such thing! Here, you may magick my thoughts even, to see the truth."
The woman raised a delicate eyebrow for a moment, scrutinizing the vagrant. Then, before long, she said: "Very well. I am Akazha," she said, pointing at herself, "Follow me, Raxri Uttara, and pray you do not belie my trust, lest you meet certain death before long."
Raxri felt a wellspring of gratitude fountain out of them, encompassing Akazha. "Thank you. Thank you, great one!"
"I am no great," she said, rolling her eyes. "Now please, pipe down. We should get going, lest there be others on their trail--"
A voice erupted from outside. Raxri and Akazha turned, both, at the same time. "Here! Follow this path and ye shall find the Vault thither. Behind it is a graveyard. Keep to mind the command, fools: the bones and flesh and heart of those dead and even those that walk again." The voice belonged to a wheezing old man.
Akazha turned to Raxri. "You know not how to fight, yes?"
Sheepishly, Raxri bowed and shook their head. Despite this, Raxri stood a whole head taller than Akazha.
Akazha exhaled a humorous slight laugh. "Funny. I''ve taken you to be a warrior from your stature and stance. Death does make memory complicated...."
From within the folds of her robes, she produced a sword with a blade having 8 waves. Its handle was exquisite, decorated to showcase a tiger, and its hilt was made of dragonscale. Its steel was damascened, rippling. A kalis, Raxri knew.
Akazha was already walking out, through the large horizontal doors that led into an elevated porch area, where other shrines were, alongside a porcelain water pot right before the entrance.
"Hail!" Akazha yelled out. Raxri ran to her side.
Outside, right in front of the wooden temple was a small courtyard, pocked by stagnant ponds and stone spirit houses. This courtyard had around four men, dressed in the same bandit armor as the ones they had previously faced, save for one of them, who was dressed in a white tunic, and a brocaded sarong, and had a wooden bow in his hands.
The bandits all stopped and turned. They paled as if they had seen a ghost.
"State your business ''ere in the fine establishment of Hell King Dak Emmara Senje!"
The bandits all looked for a while. Then, the one with the bow said: "We''ve come at the behest of a certain wizard. Times are hard, lass, wouldn''t you agree?"
Akazha''s eyebrow perked up. She said: "You raid the tombs of the dead to take what is theirs. And they traverse the next life without the blessings of their loved ones. Have you no shame? What if this had been done to your graves!"
"There''ll be no one to bury us when we die, madame." The man with the bow seemed like the leader among them. His headwrap flared up taller than the other three''s bandanas, almost like a single horn. "This is the way of the world. I''m sure the Buddhas will forgive us."
"No forgiveness must be sought," said Akazha. "Evil deeds will be repaid with the selfsame, and tenfold. That is the way of the world."
A pause. And then, the leader said: "Then if you do not want evil deeds to happen to you, I suggest you get walking, madames. We''ve bones to collect."
"I refuse." Akazha moved, quicker than Raxri could''ve thought someone clad in such robes could move. She was like a flutter in the wind: in one second a cloth dragon, the next in front of one bandit, wielding a crossbow and only having around 3 bolts on his person. Her kalis flashed in a confident line, cutting the man''s arm off completely. Then, she put her fingers to her lips and uttered a low mantra: BA SA JU KU RU.
No blood spurted off of the stump. Instead, the stump healed. A clean amputation. Of course, the man was maimed, but no disease will infect his stump. Akazha then savagely kicked the man off to the side, where they stumbled into unconsciousness.
"You curry death, witch! Strike her all at once! Even witches cannot withstand a throng!"
"You underestimate this witch!" Here, Akazha uttered a sacred mantra. Then she casually threw her kalis aside, and it floated in mid-air as if kept aloft by an invisible wire. She breathed out, and as she did her eyes burned with a certain azure fire, coloring it, giving her an almost feline look.
The kalis shot forward, faster than thought.
It sliced through the other nearest bandit''s arm. The bandit screamed out, but louder still was Akazha''s ululation of the Healing Buddha''s mantra, forcing the wound closed. The bandit still passed out from the pain, however.
Akazha moved, leaping into the air and sailing through the winds as if lighter than a feather. As she sailed overhead, she kicked away at the other bandit, twisting and tossing him with her legs onto the nearby rocks, knocking him out. Another Healing Buddha mantra followed.
The last one, the man, tossed his bow to the rocks. "Wait, wait! Mercy! Prithee, grant mercy! Forgive me, I shall turn my leaf!"
Akazha''s flying kalis shot straight toward the man, again a blur. The man winced, but the kalis only stabbed his arm, holding him fast against a rock. Akazha fluttered over and stood atop her sword, hands behind her back as if she were a dainty maiden waiting for her due.
The bandit squealed: "Ack! Please, please madame, I beg you."
Akazha raised an eyebrow. "You truly believe it? You will turn the leaf?"
"Yes! Yes. I know what maleficence a witch such as you is capable of. I will not go back on my word. I will do as I''ve said!"
Akazha flipped from her sword''s dragon hilt, and with a flick of her wrist pulled the sword away with nothing but her thoughts. Her kalis flew back to her hands. Her other hand was on her chest, her palm facing her right as if she were folding her hands together in prayer but only with one hand. She uttered the incantations and the man''s savagely torn arm was immediately healed.
Seeing this, the man scampered away like the beaten dog that he was. Raxri watched him run, away and out of the premises of the temple complex, back into the valley.
Akazha let out a breath. Then another. Then another. She was breathing heavily, chasing after air, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"That was amazing, witch Akazha."
Akazha turned and smiled. "I implanted a curse upon him," she said. Sweat matted her skin, causing it to glisten against the moonlight.
"What for?" asked Raxri.
"So that I will know where he tarries." She raised her hand and a bundle of strands swayed within.
"You truly are a witch," Raxri said. Their hand balled up, anxiously. "That is the tool of witchery."
Akazha shrugged as if to say guilty as charged. Then she said: "You wield the blade as if you know how to use it, but you obviously do not. How interesting. I will have to reactivate the hidden potentials within you, the stones blocking your rushing Winds." A beat, then she said, "Though when it comes to your corpus, to your physical form... you seem to be completely rejuvenated."
Raxri exhaled, then nodded. "I laid within a pond of glowing lazuli. I do not know what it is... but it rejuvenated me completely."
"Medicinal Waters of Peisajekuru, the Healing Buddha." Akazha stared at Raxri for a bit more. "To think that the Vault healed you... though it did remove your memory. No martial skill at all. You are nothing... and yet...."
Raxri blinked. They weren''t sure if they were going to be annoyed or offended.
Akazha sheathed her kalis into one of the folds of her robes. She took out a reed whistle and blew it. The shrill sound echoed across the night sky. After a few moments, however, a pitch-black steed came galloping into the temple complex, complete with saddles and stirrups.
"Come. It''s not safe here. Not yet." As the steed came to a stop before them, Akazha pat him on the back. "Good boy Sungai. We''ve a new friend. Let them ride with us, would you?" [1.3] Now Enter The Stream
One day the great Crimson Swordstress came upon the Adamantine Awoken, who was traveling upon a colorful raptor. "O, most venerable one, great conqueror of reality! Please, tell me, for my mind is yet troubled. My daughter has taken the path of the witch, for the purpose of finding power. How can I speak with her to persuade her out of this baleful path?" The Awoken raised an eyebrow. "Tell the Thus-Come-And-Gone thus, have you loved her all your life?" "Of course!" The Awoken always could tell lies from truth: that is the perfection of enlightenment. "Very well. Then you must know, the witch path and the sage path and the scholar path and the ascetic''s path are all paths equal on the stream to enlightenment." "But her motive be selfish, Awoken. She will only cause harm! I do not want her to live her next life in the Hells." "She will only live her next life in the Hells if she doesn''t awaken within this life, and if she doesn''t perform her rituals. No doubt you have done something to have pushed her onto this path. Listen closely: you will war with your daughter in the far future, this is inevitable. She will be commanding roving warbands of demonkin, and you will be powerless. Then you will find the witch path as she did." from The Journey-Song of Dattreya Wairini
Sungai the horse looked fleetingly at Raxri. A look of judgment. A look of contempt? What a strange horse. What an expressive horse.
The look was oppressive. Completely oppressive. Raxri felt like they were crumbling, hands disjointing under Sungai''s almighty gaze.
Sungai exhaled as if in confirmation or affirmation, after a moment.
"Thank you Sungai," Akazha said. She mounted Sungai and then offered her hand to help Raxri. Raxri took it.
"Thank you, great witch."
"Don''t thank me yet," she said. "You never know: I might lead you yet into certain death, and I will use your screaming soul as an ingredient for my elixir. Hyah!" She stirred Sungai into a gallop, and off they went, riding out of the temple complex and down the broken set of stairs that led up to the temple.
More of those split gateways flanked the stair path at specific intervals, looking like arches but with the top section removed. "Heaven Mountain Gates," said Akazha. "Going through such gates bears to the soul the climbing of the mountain and, subsequently, the symbolic entering of heaven. The entrances are always found at the top of tall mounts."
"I see." Raxri stared at the gates. Its old architects carved it out of ebon night stone.
Eventually, the stone path ended with the last Heaven Mountain Gate, and they burst out into a dirt path that wound up. The path was decidedly flat, leading to a slight grassland before it eventually fell into the sea. Though the Horned Moon watched on this night, the sea was pure black.
Now Upon The Pemi Lowlands
Further off into the distance of the sea, Raxri saw the distant shadow of a giant man''s torso, at least fifty fathoms tall, walking across the waves. It walked with a slow gait, truly like a giant walking across an ocean. When the man''s eyes--a set of two balls of fire--met Raxri''s, they immediately turned away to watch the trees pass by. Sungai galloped at a brisk pace.
"Tonight is a night of the Highest Horned Moon," Akazha said as they brought out coral prayer beads. "It would be best not to let your eyes wander. The Dead and the Unwelcome walk here galvanized. But so do we witches."
Raxri watched as Akazha uttered a mantra eight times quickly before blowing into her prayer beads and then throwing her hand into the air, letting the gathered wind cover them. Raxri felt low pressure envelop them as if the winds wrapped around them and protected them.
The dirt path carried them close to the shoreline, where ghastly jellyfish and bioluminescent eels swam underneath the waves¡ªhunting, abiding. Raxri couldn''t help but find it beautiful, the non-deluded movement. Shadowmen lurked nearby, standing by the coast, unfettered by the cold night winds. The winds now were strong, you see. Not a storm, nay, but the natural ocean wind all the same.
The shadowmen''s eyes blurred white. They held in their hands gloom-swords like mantis-blades. They watched Raxri and Akazha ride past.
Eventually, they arrived at a ruin. Wooden stilt houses abandoned, a destroyed stone spirit house in the middle, seemingly by a stream. The stilt houses had fences about their undersides. No more life here. Raxri conjectured this ruin was once a stopping point for travelers but has now fallen out of favor.
Sungai flew past when Raxri heard a low groan. Panic? Pain? "Wait! Akazha, I hear someone inside."
Akazha stopped Sungai right as they crossed the bridge. "Within? Impossible. These ruins are dangerous, and no one pilgrimages to that Temple anymore."
"I heard it." Raxri hopped off Sungai. As they did, they felt a change of pressure; their ears popped. "There, it''s louder now." More sounds of groaning.
Akazha similarly hopped off, commanding Sungai to stay with a wave of a mudra. "They might be Undead."
Raxri walked into the small copse of stilt houses. "Hello? Is anyone here? We can help."
A voice immediately replied: "Oh! Oh, over here!"
Akazha caught up just as Raxri found a little boy peeking behind a shut window. Raxri walked up to the stilt house, climbed the ladder, and looked into the window from the elevated front porch.
"Hello. What are you doing here?"
The boy was small, waifish, wrapped only in a sarong. Together with him was a little girl, no doubt his sister. Raxri offered his hand, and the boy shook his head.
"We came here to swim," said the boy. "But we took too long to get out of the water. The night caught us and now binds us to where we hide!"
"Why? Where do you live?"
"Blacklight Town," the girl replied.
Akazha came up behind them and said, "Blacklight Town? That''s quite a ways away. Mind you, it''s not very far, but it''s still about half a sun- movement."
"Yes." The boy bit his lip. "But... I''m sorry. We wanted to watch the March of the Sea Monks is all!"
Raxri shook their head. "Why can''t you--"
The groan, again.
Akazha''s eyebrows furrowed. She turned and summoned her kalis and then let go of it so that it hung in the air again. "More of these reanimated..." Akazha commanded her kalis to become her step. She stepped onto it and then off it to climb down from the elevated porch of the house.
Two walking wights shuffled into view, rusty blades in their hands, loose sarongs and tunics clinging onto desiccated, falling flesh. They groaned with every movement.
"Slaying them brings no karmic consequence," Akazha said to Raxri, eyes burning bright blue again. Her kalis danced and dispatched the wights handily¡ªclean bisections and then butchering into many fine chops. "The Reanimated are not sentient beings. They are cages for a Mindstream. Such Mindstreams are chained to be auxiliary powering sources for the walkers-in-death. It would be of the highest merit to free such Mindstreams so they may journey the Whorl again."
"How?" Raxri asked, somehow more interested in that than the Dead-Walking-Again before them.
"Magick, sites of great emotional atrocity, or places cursed by wizards, are catalyzed by the Hunting Moon to trap a Mindstream into these bodies, preventing reincarnation. Slaying such creatures lets the Mindstream continue into the Whorl. We must deliver unto them Certain End, for them to begin again."
"So these ruins... Something must have happened to them...?"
"Indeed," said Akazha, sighing. "The Invincible Blade Princess cast the Utter Islands into disarray. The Second World Revolution failed and ended the world. We live upon a divine corpse, Rarxi Uttara. Remember it well."This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
The undead, now dispatched, Akazha turned to the kids. "Come along now, children--" she stopped. She pressed her index and pointer finger to her forehead and looked like she had an eye on her brow. A moment passed, and then she sighed. Raxri watched her and then turned to the window where the boy and the girl were.
They were not there.
"They''re free now," said Akazha.
"What?"
"Those children... They were those." She gestured to the corpses with her lips. "They were the relics of their Mindstream. Now freed."
Raxri inhaled, a heavy weight on their hearts. They uttered a mantra, one that arose from their lovingkindness. One that they remembered, even if nothing else returned to memory: "AHOM DAYA ZINTA."
"Do ghosts arise from such sites?" asked Raxri as Akazha walked past them on the way back to where Sungai was.
"Some of them, yes. Others are pakta, hungry ghosts who must serve their time due to their past life. Some specters arise from Mindstreams so burdened with passions that they stay in the intermediary state of ghosthood. This is why many people perform rituals for their dead, so that they may pass on."
"I see."
Akazha smiled then. "I enjoy this. Imparting my knowledge onto someone so stupid. Refreshing."
Raxri blinked, then followed after Akazha. "Do you not think the ruins must be cleansed?"
Akazha shook her head as she mounted Sungai once again. "I fear those are the last of the lingering souls there. It is a ruin true, now. Inert. Dead."
"And it''s because of the Invincible Blade Princess..."
"Yes. Come. We''ve much to discuss."
Raxri mounted Sungai as well, and off they galloped. Over the bridge, down finally into the coastal region, and then into a path in the forest by the base of the lower mountains, where fireflies still danced like lamplights.
Pemiwood''s Edge
At first, the forest was composed of the kinds one would see near the shore: coconut trees, strangler figs, palms, and areca, among others. But as they rode deeper, following the light and crooked forest path, the trees turned into large, towering pili and rosewoods, mahoganies, and ironwood trees. Even now, as the fireflies lit the path (no doubt, Raxri thought, a twist of witchcraft), she could see the glowing eyes of arboreal animals watching from above. Bearcats, flying lemurs, cloud rats, giant flying foxes, and eagle-owls watched them. Some of them, no doubt, were spirits in their own right.
Akazha chanted something under their breath.
The path led them to a small clearing in the forest, where even the canopy broke free, revealing the Hunting Moon that still watched through emptiness.
Raxri knew something smiled from up there.
Sungai stopped before a tall stilt house with several annexes, which gave the impression that it belonged to royalty. The house was built upon thick ironwood pillars, and each pillar was carved with geometric inscriptions and talismanic engravings to strengthen its spiritual hold against the dark.
Somewhere behind the cottage, a spirit house stood, with the deity within replaced with what looked like a prayer wheel... though its script glowed with a low blue light. The offering platform had wires that looked like... streams of water flowing out of it. The tubes snaked into the earth, and then presumably, into the house. A faint sound also emanated from the spinning prayer wheel... it sounded like a slow, melodious chant of mantras.
Akazha climbed down from the black horse and removed a small rattan bag from his side. Raxri followed suit, hitting the ground with a thud. Then, she led Sungai on his reins toward a nearby hut. This was also an elevated stilt house, but the under-section was much taller and had multiple fences to allow Sungai to rest within.
"Good boy, Sungai. Thank you for riding with us. Have a rest." Akazha kissed Sungai on his cheek and then exited the stilt house. "You, follow me."
They climbed up the ladder--a goodly ladder, the thick ones that were more like stairs, belonging more to princes--and arrived at the front porch. Akazha removed her straw reed sandals, opened the lid of a porcelain dragon jar resting beside the entrance of the first doorway, and rinsed her feet with water. Raxri did the same, removing much of the accumulated dirt and soil. They realized then how thick the callouses on their feet were.
Witch''s Hut
Akazha''s home was quaint: it wasn''t too large, but it had two levels (as signified, Raxri had thought, by the two roofs). The living room was spacious, with a recessed middle and a table, allowing easy sitting. On one side, however, was a table filled to the brim with palm leaf scrolls and leaf manuscripts. Some brass jars of ink threatened to spill. A stele with some fresh blood lay beside a sheet of dried palm leaf--the paper of the Islands.
Above Raxri, a canopy of beams kept up the second level, and from that canopy hung multiple threads of differing colors. Some of them were prayer beads, others were threads of precious jewels. There was also a piece of bone, a skull, and a hanging clay pot.
Akazha moved through the room with comfort. She pressed her finger against a circular, blackstone button installed to the side of a room. The same lotus-lights lit afire with pureflame blossomed out, illuminating the room in a pure white glow. Akazha pressed it again, and the glow turned from a pure white to a comfortable halogen orange. Are these the same lotus lights that lit the Vault of Souls? They saw that the blackstone installation also had similar "veins" blossoming out of it, coursing through the wall, returning to whatever battery powered it.
"Sit. Make yourself at home," Akazha said, somewhere from another room.
Raxri nodded.
It took Raxri a moment to notice that Akazha had disappeared into one of the four annexes of the cottage (turning the home into a four-roomed complex). Eventually, she returned with a wooden tray, whereupon an intricately filigreed wooden box, a tiny knife with a dragon handle, a teapot, and two porcelain teacups sat.
"Do you hunger yet?"
Raxri''s stomach grumbled and groaned.
Akazha laughed. A light laugh. The kind of laugh a mother or a sister would make. She said: "I''ve some claypot chicken rice I''ve cooked a few movements ago. Linger, for a while."
Raxri bowed deeply, folding both their hands in front of their mouth. "I thank you deeply and kindly."
"Good, I like it when you appreciate things." And she disappeared into the annex again, which Raxri figured out by now was the kitchen.
Raxri blinked and then decided it would be too awkward to continue simply standing there. So they sat in front of the table where the box was. Raxri contemplated what it could be when Akazha returned, bringing a clay pot with white rice and steamed chicken thighs within, doused in soy sauce. To Raxri''s grumbling stomach, it might as well have been Amrita.
"I thank you kindly again for your hospitality."
"Eat up. No good conversation arises from a stomach void."
Raxri did as instructed, wolfing down the clay pot with their hands.
Akazha watched, amused. "Good to see you haven''t lost all your etiquette knowledge."
Raxri blinked. "Is eating with my hands not mannerly? Forgive me; this seemed most natural."
"Nay. Eating with your hands is the common way of eating here in Pemi and most of the Utter Islands, in truth. Despite the loss of your memory, it''s good to see you have some of your reflexes still intact."
Akazha poured black tea onto both teacups and opened the wooden chest. Within were already prepared quids of betel nut. Akazha took a bit of lime, opened a bit of one quid, squeezed it within, and then wrapped the quid up again before placing it on the side of her mouth. Then she masticated.
As Raxri ate, Akazha prepared another quid for Raxri and placed it in front of them. "After dinner."
Raxri blinked momentarily and then asked: "What is this for...?"
Akazha half covered her mouth with her fingers. "Goodness. Not just memory but social norms as well. You truly must be studied. You know, even the dead I''ve actually talked to, the spirits and ghosts are still stuck in the mortal realm. They remember their past, sometimes with the uttermost clarity- too much, even. It only fuels their remorse and, therefore, their clinging. And yet you... you''ve forgotten everything, even what it''s like to live here, in this world.
"Betel nut quids are one of the most important aspects of socialization and hospitality here in the southern isles. It''s fallen out of favor in such utter regions as North Ra-om: there they offer tea or coffee or opium instead. But within the confines of our islands, it is mandatory to offer betel nut as a gesture of goodwill. Truly, even the gods are offered such betel nut, as a sign of hospitality and good faith. These social norms you must learn, lest you anger the wrong person. Or worse, a king.
Raxri nodded in understanding. Then they looked up. "Speaking of things I have completely forgotten," they said, swallowing some chicken. "What... powers the lotuslights?"
Akazha raised an eyebrow. "Electricity."
Raxri titled their head to the side. They asked: "And the electricity comes from...?"
"Well, they would usually be powered by a karma grid. Each major city or town has one," Akazha replied, scooping some rice into her mouth. "But I am not connected to one. This house is powered by a small karma engine. Mayhaps tomorrow you will see the karma engine behind the house."
"Karma engine...?"
Akazha tapped their chin. "It''s... an engine that converts karma into electrical energy."
"That''s possible?"
Akazha nodded. "It''s hard to explain: it was invented and commercialized after the fall of the Invincible Blade Princess. Electricity powers the majority of the Utter Islands'' machines, elevating all of us into a new age. Karma is converted through a mix of samadhi fires and powerful mantras. The prayer wheel is actually a furnace, while the mantras written upon it is the Karma-Ripening Mantra, a mantra that only monk-machinists can chant. So they write it onto the prayer wheels instead."
Raxri blinked. "Where does the karma come from?"
Akazha shrugged. "Devils, ghosts, demons, sacrificed animals, little spirits that wish to move on to the next part of the Wheel. Any being with Karma works. It forcibly ripens one''s karma, but it does slay the being."
Raxri pondered the repercussions of such a thing.
"It''s not murder, you should know," explained Akazha. "It''s closer to suicide. Voluntary death. At least, the majority of karma engines are powered that way."
Raxri writhed. It''s still technically killing someone, right...?
"Anyway," Akazha continued. "The act is inherently beneficial to those of Lower Paths. Burning your karma means your next Rebirth will be in a higher Realm. Demons and Hellbeings might be reborn as Animals. Pakta and animals might be reborn as humans. Some humans might be reborn as spirits. Some spirits might be reborn as gods! But it''s not a science. Only the buddha can truly predict the ripening of karma."
Akazha swallowed her food and said: "You really have lost all memory. Everyone is born into electricity, more or less. To the point that we don''t really ponder about the repercussions of the karma engine. "
Raxri swallowed a mouthful of the soy sauce-drenched chicken breast with white rice. The food lightened their mood. "Truly, I''ve forgotten the workings of this world completely. You must teach me!"
Akazha scoffed. "I''m no teacher. And I''m definitely no mother. Treat me in no such manner."
"I will not survive--" Raxri swallowed another mouthful; they had a big mouth, "--a day upon this land without a teacher, a guidance, a tutor. Please, I beg you!" Raxri was about to get up and prostrate themselves before Akazha, but she stopped them with a hand. [1.4] The Long Song of the World
"To soothe a heart aflame, compassion must pierce uncrowded. For a heart must love unashamed, to see with eyes unclouded." Poem by Venerable Flower Garland Fifth Patriarch Jisinsati
"Pray, cease. I''m no god, I''m no sage, I''m no Buddha. You''ve no need." She spat out a glob of red, shooting it straight into a medium-sized hole to the side of the table, where it fell into a section walled-off section of the undersection. "Cease, please! Have some respect for yourself."
Raxri pushed through Akazha''s hand and kowtowed.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose and exhaled. "Very well. Fine! If it will stop you from kowtowing. Get up! I will teach you, but in so doing, you will be formally in my debt. You will have to honor your debts to me, unless you wish to know what happens should you trigger a witch''s ire."
Raxri swallowed yet another mouthful of claypot chicken rice and was immediately seized with the fear that they would finish the chicken rice too soon. Yet, they nodded. They knew they were in no place to negotiate. They hardly even knew where they were. "I agree to your terms, witch."
"Good. Let us see how well it goes. It will be interesting to see your path," she said, chewing. "A curiosity like you... it might even stake me upon the path to wizardhood. Matters of consciousness, Mindstream, souls and the like are all the rage in the wizardly community."
Raxri raised an eyebrow. "Wizardhood? What mean you? Are you not a wizard presently?"
Akazha spat out another globule¡ªthis one was the entire quid itself. Then, she drank some tea, gargled it in her mouth, and then spat it out again. Then she poured herself another cup and drank that normally. Raxri reached for their own tea and drank it as well. A warmth¡ªthe kind welcome on a cold night such as this¡ªenveloped them. They could taste hints of clove and cinnamon.
"You will learn when we awake in the morning tomorrow. For now, enjoy your food."
Raxri shrugged. "I suppose that would constitute a lesson." And Raxri wasn''t sure if they could retain such knowledge then.
Raxri ate until the clay pot was completely empty, almost licked clean of rice granules and even the soy sauce. They then finished their tea as well, a perfect downer for everything else. Akazha watched as Raxri took a piece of quid (she gestured for them to do so) and gingerly copied what Akazha had done, placing it onto the side of their mouth and then beginning to chew.
Raxri could feel a bit of a tang immediately, a bit of spiciness. Then that nutty flavor, then those seeds. Then the spiciness rose, covering their entire mouth, almost numbing it in the process.
"Be careful not to swallow," said Akazha. "When you feel like you are on the brink, spit it out onto that hole yon thither."
Raxri nodded. When they smiled, their teeth were already stained red. They spat out a piece and then continued chewing. After the first few seconds, it became almost second nature to Raxri. They''d done this multiple times before, in times past.
Before long, Akazha moved to pick up the claypot. Raxri rushed to grab it quicker, saying: "Effort not, master. I shall clean it."
Akazha smiled and said, "Nay, student, there is no need to do it so late in the night. Bring these to the annex first, and we''ll wash them by the stream first thing tomorrow."
Raxri nodded and did as she asked. They remembered the annex Akazha had walked out of. Carrying the whole tray, Raxri walked into a kitchen more like a half room. Half the room was on the roofed elevated ledge, where all the spices were kept alongside multiple earthenware and porcelain jars, no doubt filled with food and other cooking accessories. Then, a ladder led to an open kitchen, still roofed, where a blackened stove sat. Various pots hung from a wooden beam attached to the two poles that kept the thatched roof up.
Raxri placed the tray onto a table and returned to the living room. There, Akazha had undressed herself of her garbs, robes, and veil. She only had a simple breast wrap--a kemben--around her chest underneath her armpits, and then a cloth loincloth drenched in azure dyes, wrapping around her hip and covering all the way down to her thighs. In truth, it was less of a loincloth and more of a... kilt, in a way. Though it wrapped around a person''s privates, the cloth was long enough to cover the thighs.
She looked at Raxri and raised an eyebrow. "Don''t just stand there ogling. It''s rude."
"The bahag you wear... is this not the common clothing of men?"
Akazha shrugged. "It is, but ''tis be my home. I''ve no need for appearances, and it is far more comfortable besides. My room is upstairs. You on the other hand..." Akazha walked towards the annex on the other side of the room and pushed the door open. Within was a spacious room with a soft down bed and pillows on the edge, an incense burner upon a low four-legged table, and a black mosquito net veiled over them. "Make yourself at home."
"Thank you kindly. I will do all that I can to repay you."
"We will see about that." Akazha walked over to the ladder that led to the second floor. "Sleep soundly. We begin training at dawn tomorrow."
Raxri made themself at home in the guestroom. Cold wind drafted from the open windows and the bamboo slat floor. Raxri Uttara clad themself in the provided cotton blanket, which had the abstract representation of a lizard upon it.
Raxri removed their wrap shirt now. They used their blanket to cover the entirety of their body, which was not remarkably lithe; they had the severeness of a warrior. From their silhouette they would be mistaken as a broad-shouldered woman with unfortunately almost non-existent breasts, but by the way they moved they carried themselves with the warlord mien of a man.
Narrow by the waist but broad-shouldered. Their naked body betrayed a long past of myriad events: slashes and gashes pocked their light brown skin, some of them not as recent as the bright pink gashes they had taken. Some of them cut into the soft flesh of their breast, their sternum, their abdomen, their buttocks. A light bruise as well, not yet fully healed, on their groin area. Instead of being incensed, Raxri couldn''t help but be confused.
The night, as always, was quiet. Raxri was made to sit in their thoughts alone, except for the occasional hoot of an eagle owl and the slight call of the gecko. Within this mire, they couldn''t help but think and be aware that they most likely had a long history before this. They didn''t seem like they were of young stock: Raxri conjectured that they''d lived around twenty-five harvests by now. Looking up at the roof of the mosquito net, they segmented their thoughts: deep gash wounds now turned into pink scars--no doubt because of the Healing Buddha''s waters. But they wondered then: what were the Buddhas? What were those Bodhisattva statues depicting? What were those ogre statues? Gods thrived here, it seemed, but sometimes their temples might be forgotten or forsaken. Dilapidated. What did that mean?
What was the Whorl? What were all these things that Raxri could swear they had knowledge of? Deep understanding and awareness. Perhaps something even close to Enlightenment in these subjects, but now nothing. Did they just lose all progress, then?This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Clinging to these thoughts, Raxri knew, would only deepen the confusion, like clinging to the blade of a knife already lodged into your heart.
They focused on succumbing to slumber. It didn''t take too long; they were mighty tired, even with the rejuvenation of the Buddha Waters. And in that state, no dreams came to them. Not even the words of Silang sa Bayno.
Dawn came. The incense sticks on the burner had fallen into stumps and were out.
Raxri arose to that all-too-familiar sound of the cock''s crow. Their eyes opened. Though they had no clue about the length of their slumber, they knew from the buzzing energy deep within their muscles that they were ready to move. Raxri leaped out of the mosquito net and stretched their body to the full length it could, priming it like a blacksmith heating a blade.
Then, they put on the monk''s garments they''d picked up¡ªthat wrap shirt with cap sleeves and the sarong¡ªand walked out.
In the living room, as the rays of sunlight streamed in from the malachite sky above, Raxri found no mentor or teacher. All they found was silence and emptiness. The cock''s crow reverberated again, this time accompanied by the flapping and the tweets of little Maya-maya. Raxri figured that perhaps Akazha had gone on ahead. Perhaps this was some sort of test against them, and they should pick up the slack. To show that they''re eager to move, learn, recover their memories, and help them.
Raxri walked over to the kitchen annex and saw that the unwashed clay pot was still there. Raxri also noticed at least five other claypots, most of which had leftover rice within. Must be Akazha''s other dishes. I''ll clean those too.
Raxri fit all five claypots onto their arms and walked down the annex ladders, balancing everything precariously. From their vantage on top of the annex''s ledge, they could see the close glistening waters of the stream that Akazha must have been talking about.
They walked past the open kitchen and into a lightly trodden path, cutting through lush jungle underbrush. The path eventually opened into the stream, which flowed to their right. The stream flowed quickly and cleanly.
It was so early that the indigo of the night was only just being bleached into the orange of dawnbreak. Raxri walked down the path and to the stream, when the sound of gurgling erupted from beside them.
Sometimes, one should understand that the flesh always remembers. Sometimes, though it is the Mind that overpowers reality, the flesh is still a major dependent origination. This means even the Mind, as all-powerful as it is, as long as it is bound to the flesh cage that is one''s own body, it will be restricted by the Flesh.
But if the Flesh remembers, then the Mind will too.
Raxri''s senses were not preternatural. They were honed by years of meditation.
Raxri stopped walking. The gurgling sound got louder. It turned to echoes of growling. It sounded like people drowning.
That doesn''t sound good.
Raxri set down the claypots. The moment they had put it down, a shadow erupted from the bushes and the marshes. Their awareness expanding, they dove into a desperate defense. They dove to the side, hit the ground on a roll, and then looked up.
There were two... things. Humanoid, yet too gangly and thin, with faces heavily gilled and eyes bright red like fishes, webbed feet, and iridescent turquoise scales. They looked like fish-men, but with hands sharp with razor claws. The noise was coming from their not-throats, stomach-churning drowning noises.
Water ghosts? Raxri saw a slightly rusted blade beside them. Serendipitous. Hopefully, this would be enough. Better to be armed than to fight back without a weapon. This time, they had to rely on their body. There''s a nugget of martial knowledge in there, in their brain. They just know it.
They rose to their feet and readied the blade, cocking it horizontally across their left bicep, holding it with their right. I don''t know how to move like this... but it feels right.
DO YOU WISH TO SURVIVE?
Raxri''s forehead knotted. Half fear, half confusion. What is this...?
I AM THE YOU THAT YOU KEEP HIDDEN. DEEP WITHIN. THE YOU THAT PROTECTS YOU AGAINST DAMNATION. RAXRI UTTARA. I AM YOUR KILLING INTENT. LET ME GUIDE YOU. LET ME PROTECT YOU. TAP INTO ME. ALL SENTIENT BEINGS HAVE IT. WOULDN''T YOU LIKE TO BE A TIGER?
Raxri knew they had to, if they wanted to survive. And so they did. They closed their eyes and allowed killing intent to course through them. The two water ghosts flinched, very subtly.
What am I?
Then, the water ghosts lunged. Raxri found that they could handle their burning anxiety a bit better now that they had gotten a good night''s sleep and some food in their stomach. The water ghosts moved quickly, they did not think. They fell into habit, into martial tendency.
As the water ghosts'' claws descended, Raxri avoided it by slashing diagonally while taking a huge step to their left. Their blade cut through both of them in one movement. Now effectively behind the water ghosts, they struck twice--a movement they also did not know how to do intentionally, but their physical instrument burgeoned and moved for them. Was this... instinct?
No. Raxri realized exactly what it was. This was their innate violence. This is my killing intent.
The two swordstrikes immediately turned into a double horizontal strike that immediately dug deep into the water ghost. The other water ghost shrieked at that, and then immediately dove into the marshes behind the trees, effectively retreating.
After a moment of silence, when Raxri could ascertain that it was more or less safe, they put their blade down. Was that it? What was that? Raxri looked at their own hands. Killing Intent... did everyone have this? Can everyone do that?
Without another word, they went over to the claypots, gathered them into their arms, and made their way to the stream. Somehow they could sense that no other water ghosts would be appearing now, as the great Sun beamed her destructive rays into the earth.
Slightpond Stream
Raxri placed the pots onto a nearby rock, knelt, and drank the glistening water. Refreshment poured down their throats, cleaning them. There was no teacher here, and Raxri eventually concluded that perhaps the teacher had just slept in.
As the sun rose and the chill morning air slowly gave way to a slight dawning heat, Raxri shrugged, removed their clothes, and washed themselves clean in the rushing waters behind a large boulder the stream snaked around. Tall trees created a verdant canopy over them, shielding them from the worst of the sun''s rays. Though they had no oils to coat their hair nor any soaps to clean their skin, Raxri found themself at peace, once again. Always, it is always the rushing waters.
Afterward, as Raxri dried themself, they set about washing the clay pots. It didn''t take long until each pot was cleansed of detritus. Raxri allowed the large chunks of leftover rice, some still stained with soy sauce, to flow away with the river, chanting a mantra as they did. Or what is a song? Raxri didn''t''t know anymore. These were at the forefront of their mind, and they sang it, but they didn''t exactly know what it meant. It arose automatically, because of some reason or other wholly outside of Raxri''s comprehension as of now.
As Raxri washed the dishes, they found that each dish was intricately engraved with flower spiral designs. It was a beautiful design, no doubt, though Raxri didn''t precisely understand the true meaning of each spiral. They understood now that the world they''ve returned to is filled with the uncontrollable urge to make everything they see beautiful, filling it with the same beauty as nature-filled empty spaces¡ªthe truth of emptiness.
Then, behind them, a yawn.
"Oh, Raxri, my dear student. You woke up much too early."
Raxri turned around just as they finished washing the last of the claypots. "Good morning, teacher. I had thought you came here first as a test of loyalty."
"From whence did you get that thought? For someone who lost all memory, mischief dances yet in your head." Akazha saw the cleaned claypots and said: "Quaint, cleaned you even my own dishes. Those I''d laid aside for I promised they''d be washed when the chance presented itself."
"A waste of a trip it would''ve been if I hadn''t," replied Raxri, rising to their full height and bending backward to stretch their back.
Akazha smiled and shrugged. She moved over to the other side of the boulder, saying: "Well, you''ve certainly won me over with your diligence. Our first lesson shall begin, then." She spoke over the rushing stream''s din and on the boulder''s other side. Raxri figured she would be bathing and didn''t want to go over there to ruin her privacy.
What had just transpired arose in Raxri''s mind. "Akazha... will you answer one of my questions?"
"Yes. Of course. That will be the better way of it." She arose from the other side of the boulder with only a single textile covering her entire body.
Raxri said: "A pair of water ghosts struck at me up the path."
"Oh, so that''s why there was ghost residue upon the path," she said, tapping her chin. "And you... fought them off?"
Raxri nodded. "I... was spoken to by my own Killing Intent..."
"Interesting," said Akazha, walking into the water to wash her hands and feet and face. "Every sentient being faced with mortal danger will have their Killing Intent reach out to them at one point or another. Some people--often the bourgeois--will never experience this in their life, for they are perpetually safe. For others, though... they will experience it at some time during their childhood. So it is as if you''re reborn."
A silence, as Raxri contemplated on her words. They asked: "Was I rebirthed?" [1.5] The Whorl of Suffering
1 - Great Teacher Thus-Come-And-Gone, prithee tell this unworthy disciple. How may I achieve enlightenment, when I must face the tribulations of the world? 2 - Disciple Utavashika, learn ye this: if an obstacle standeth before you, cut it down. 3 - If the obstacle be my family? 4 - Cut down thine conception of thine family. 5 - If the obstacle be my beloved? 6 - Cut down thine delusion of thine beloved. 7 - If the obstacle be the God? 8 - The Thus-Come-And-Gone answered not. 9 - If the obstacle be myself? 10 - Kill God Yourself." From The Water Lily Wreath Scriptures
Akazha shook her head. "Unlikely. Rebirthing means you are born from the start of that Path''s life. Unless you''re reborn as a God, but all Gods are reborn upon Heaven or within Mountains. You are no Spirit either, as Spirits often are born fully born. I''m assuming your Killing Intent carried your body there?"
Raxri nodded. "My killing intent tapped into my muscle memory, I believe."
"And you easily dispatched water ghosts. Something mortal swordsmen would never have been able to do. How truly interesting. But do not get used to your Killing Intent. It will only save you at the direst of times. It is not a combat skill, it is a survival skill. Killing Intent is used to threaten souls. You cannot depend on it. You must depend on your body and mind."
Raxri nodded. "Understood, master." They stared at the water again. It reflected something, but it did not reflect Raxri.
Akazha took a moment to wash her face even more. Then, when she finished her facewashing ritual, she said, "Parry at my thrust, Raxri Uttara: you''ve truly lost all memory? You do not even know what this island we are upon is called?"
Raxri shook their head. "Unfortunately, no. I recall nothing. Emptiness greets my recall."
"Just as well. Listen, kind, and with care.
"This grand island is known only as Pemi, a word in Karita meaning Lotus. Now, you need to know: Karita is the language of the gods and the Awoken. It is the great tongue, the first of all writing, the first of all language, from which all other languages became streams. Pemi is one of five great islands comprising the Archipelago Continent known as the Utter Islands. The other Islands are..."
Raxri waited, feet now dangling in the stream. Akazha climbed on top of the rock and wrung water from her hair. Her skin was smooth, almost poreless. "There, so I need not shout over the din of the rock. Now. The other islands are thus: Hiraga Ra-om, Temog Ra-om, Nilatpa, and Wadzara. Upon each island, one rules over most of the others that stay within. However, each island is large enough to have multiple rulers within. I will not go over every island, for that will no doubt be too much for your newly awoken brain. One thing you should remember is this: the first world ended when the Invincible Blade Princess conquered the world, and then was slain in the First World Revolution."
"But you talked of the Second World Revolution, master."
Akazha nodded. "The Decades of Carnage lasted for 40 years. Proletarian revolutions across the entirety of the Utter Islands. All this ended when the Merchant Empires mounted a full offense, which ended in them detonating an Atima Bomb upon the Lotus Throne itself."
Raxri raised an eyebrow. "The Lotus Throne?"
"The seat of the Universe. It is annihilated, now."
A silence followed. A reverence. Raxri themself did not know exactly what to do, but having the Throne of the Universe be obliterated by a bomb seems... disastrous.
They looked up at the gash in the sky. Is that why the world is as it is?
Akazha continued explaining. "In Pemi, the Godtree is placed, taken from the peak of Mount Dakmala, and placed for safekeeping so that the Asra and the Tewa would not fight over it. This great Godtree cannot be cut down, and I believe it is an anchoring point of sorts for spirits and gods. A collection of steward communes presides over the Godtree, facilitating matters of shamanism and spirit and tending to the giant flowers and forest surrounding the Godtree: the Nunuk League. We are near it, no doubt you''ve seen it. Their split gateways and spirit shrines pock the island.
"Pemi is commonly seen as the final border. Past it is the archipelago only known as the End of the World. And that would be no mistaken name: past the End of the World, there is nothing more than the ocean and, eventually, a vast sea of milk."
Akazha pointed at the island''s eastern edge, known as Pemi, at the border of the End of the World. "Currently, we reside here on the far eastern edge. Though we are on Pemi itself and near the Godroot to boot, we are considered at the End of the World. This is the region where one can watch the moonly March of the Sea Monks."
"Did you get all that?"
Raxri nodded. They didn''t. Just remember. I''m on Pemi. There''s a big bomb that destroyed the Lotus Throne. I should make a mental note to ask about the Lotus Throne again in the future.
"Good." Akazha wrung the water out of her hair momentarily and then stood. Though she still had a cloth wrapped around her, Raxri noticed how long her limbs were and how lanky she seemed. She was so thin compared to Raxri''s athletic frame that she might have passed as undernourished, almost skeletal. "Now, that''s just one of the many things you must refamiliarize yourself. Just know the following: you are on the island of Pemi, in the region of the world known as the Utter Islands. To the far, far north, thousands of miles away, you will find the Dakmala mountain ringed by a jagged steel spire. The Dakmala is the center of the Trichiliocosm: the Three Billionfold Universe. It pins everything together. The Lotus Throne used to be in the Nail of Dakmala, a portion of Dakmala that was shorn away from it and became the pinning rod that bound the Utter Islands together."
Raxri scratched the back of their head. "The wonders of this world hammers my mind!"
"And there is more withal," replied Akazha. "The surface of the deep ocean of this world, of the Utter Islands. But you will learn it as you go along, like how a blade strengthens through water. Now, rise."
Akazha rose. She put on their garb and said, "Mercenarism is how people make money these days. If you have truly lost all memory, then I might as well acquaint you violence yet again. Not knowing any martial art in the Utter Islands is a death sentence. Now, on your guard."
Akazha fell into a low stance, legs wide apart, accentuating the stability of the earth, one hand near the cheek as a guard and another outstretched as a blade. "We witches on the Adamantine Path have been taught bits and pieces of a fist art so common in the southern reaches of the Utter Islands." She moved her hands in a flowing, spiral motion. "The Whorl Hand Art is commonly used by the pacifistic warrior-monks in the Heavenshards. Follow me."
Raxri took on the same pose and followed their movements. Slowly, as if chains were being broken open, Raxri''s body remembered the movements. Raxri followed Akazha''s kata, a perfect shadowing of her motions. It was as if, in a past life, they''d perfected this very Art, and moving in the same way gave them the catalyst for remembrance.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
Together, they danced an intricate fist-jive, following a silent rhythm revealed to them only from the betraying sounds of the forest. Raxri followed and learned each movement until they realized the entire kata was a mixture of repetitions. Eventually, Raxri let the flow of the movements carry them. They quickly sank into an almost meditational state, where their mindfulness was only upon the movement of their hands, legs, elbows, feet, their place beside the stream, their place within the world. Their stream of consciousness quieted and turned into a blade they could wield, cutting away frustrations and unknowns, focusing on the present now.
Akazha and Raxri''s fists struck out at the same time, striking the air. The foliage before them moved, disturbed, as if a wave of invisible wind struck it. A force erupted from each of their fists.
"How does that feel?"
"Interesting. I... what is this power erupting from me?" Raxri gasped for air.
"I''m glad you can feel it immediately. The majority of people cannot, they are not trained to do so. This is your inner power working. Your Nihawa. The Inner Breathing Wind flowing through all sentient beings. Sometimes known as qi, ki, chakra, vim, daya batin, gahum, sakti, kundalini. .
"Your Nihawa is strengthened by your Sapi Furnace, the cinnabar fields where power erupts. The Sapi is your Inner Mystic Fire.
"Nihawa and Sapi can be cultivated separately, leading to Nihawa focused Physical Cultivators and Sapi focused Warlocks and Witches. But for you, we will be training both at the same time, as most people would teach. The successful fusion of Nihawa and Sapi is a lifelong process, one that eventually creates the conditions for the Secret Spiritual Energy to arise: Vajra, the Emptiness Thunderbolt.
"I will explain to you at length in due time, for this is a deep and life-long wisdom. For now, understand that the cultivation of Nihawa and Sapi is tantamount... but they are nothing without the proper Systems and Techniques to harness them. Think of them as spiritual fuel, something useless without proper technique to use and burn them."
Raxri straightened and looked at their hands. "It felt... familiar. My body told me that this is the way to move."
"Delightful. Then, my conjecture proves true. You were a martial artist before the loss of your memory. May our movements bring remembrance."
Raxri looked at their hands. "I''m... not so sure about your proposition, however. I do not know if I can do it. If I can take a life."
"Precisely why I''ve taught you the Whorl Hand Art. The Whorl Hand Art hews closely to the First Precept of the Buddhas: Never take a life. All these techniques--" she performed a quick movement, elbows and fists striking. "--are for disabling, incapacitating, for inducing remorseful contemplation. You will not worry about answering that question just yet."
Akazha took Raxri''s hand and put them in a fighting stance. Then she struck with her fist. In reflex, Raxri''s hand shot out to parry it, guiding it away. To that, Akazha answered with another twirling fist, and Raxri caught that with a thwip of a forearm. Question, reply, question, reply. A counter to a counter to a counter. Raxri was enlightened by the realization that this was the very kata they had been doing just a few moments before.
"Hm. You''re better at this than I thought." Akazha found an opening in Raxri''s defense. She shot through with an obfuscating elbow, only to break it with a knee straight into the gut, followed by flipping Raxri over that same leg and slamming them into the ground. Akazha''s hand still wrapped around Raxri''s wrist, twisting their hand. "It is fascinating to note. Your body clearly remembers, but it is clouded, much like how the mind is clouded from the truth of enlightenment. An obscuration of death, somehow?" Akazha let go of Raxri''s wrist when she realized they were shouting, "Yield!"
"Ah, forgive me."
Raxri sat. "You''re really good."
Akazha''s lips curled up. "Come, we''ve much more to learn."
The lancing pain in Raxri''s wrist lasted only for a moment as enthusiasm bubbled within them again. "Right!" They leaped to their feet and trained.
Raxri was taught the meaning of the Whorl Hand Art: "The Whorl Hand is so called because it is the microcosm of the truth of the world: every being will inevitably enlighten. And so the circle is more of a spiral. A whorl. However, it takes innumerable years to get there, and in so doing, one prolongs one''s suffering. The Whorl Hand''s movements are exactly that: spiral, circular movements that eventually end in a point, which is the very point that incapacitates or disables in some way. The Hand is powerful and cannot be broken. Tell me, where can whorls commonly be seen?"
Raxri''s mind was blank. "Uh. The sky?"
"Well, yes," said Akazha, shrugging. "But whorls are most common in the sea. The whirlpool, remember?"
"Ohhhh!"
"Yes. It is called the Whorl Hand Art due to the rushing strength it can generate from its wheeling movements and its eventual strikes that crash like the very ocean''s waves. It is the very martial art wielded by Badrapaan, the vaunted bodyguard of Dattreya Wairini, the Adamantine Buddha, who vowed never to take a life until they reached Enlightenment."
Then, Raxri was taught the basic movements. The fundamental punches, the fundamental exchanges, the counters, and the counters to those counters. Once Raxri got it--and they got it much too quickly, though not quickly enough to betray prodigiousness--they moved on to the counters of those counters and then various ways to lock an opponent or disarm them.
As Raxri performed the techniques, they could see the spiraling movements that echoed the teachings of the Buddha. A long arc that eventually turned into a single point. The long arc of rebirths eventually ending in enlightenment. As Raxri performed an arcing movement, they saw something arc across the sky, as if following the motion of their finger. They squinted, saw that it was more like a worm, wriggling across the clouds or the malachite blue.
"What is that...?" asked Raxri.
"Hm?" Akazha looked up. "Oh, that''s a dragon. Naka in the trading tongue of Bazaar Kyapo. Ruong in Dragontongue."
"I see." Under closer inspection, Raxri saw that it had bright scarlet scales and moved like a serpent would move across water. Bright light trailed behind it from its horns, eyes, whiskers, talons, and claws.
"AHOM NAKA SANG TANI WANAG HOMA," Akazha said, folding her hands and touching the base of their hands to her forehead. Raxri did the same, uttering the same thing.
Afterward, Akasha said: "That means: Glory to Dragon, Enlightenment Omen. It''s a good sign, and dragons are gods that lead to awakening."
"I see. A good omen, then."
"Very much so," said Akazha. She turned and raised her fists again. "Come, an omen is but a sign of things to come. It is not an excuse to forego the work."
Raxri nodded, and they continued to train until the sun was high in the sky.
When the heat felt too much, Akazha stopped. Drenched in sweat, she said, "Ah, it''s zenith. The sun smiles upon us. Let''s rest. It''s time for us to eat. Grab those bowls. I''ll make spicy coconut stew."
Raxri was commanded by their master to collect finger chilis in the Witch''s garden. Raxri bound their shoulder-length hair into a mid-parted ponytail, messy yet, and went about their work. As if binding a cloud to a master.
Raxri was a wonder of a warrior: at times, when their hair is loose and falls about them, they seem like a woman true, and a beautiful one at that, with soft features, full cheeks, and almost doe-like eyes. However, when they adopt fiercer aspects, such as pulling their hair into a messy ponytail or wearing armor, their man''s visage shines like a fierce god suddenly arising. A full-handsome one as well, with features angular and sharp, as if they themself were born of a sword.
The Witch''s Garden lay on a small patch of land behind the witch''s house, right in front of the giant strangler fig tree, which provided wide shade for all the crops beneath it. Arrayed in rows upon the garden were tomatoes, taro, finger chilis, safflowers, black peppers, basil, ginger, limes, pea flowers, and turmeric.
One entire row was empty as if it belonged to a particular crop. Raxri knew not, of course. They would not be privy to that knowledge as of yet.
The smell of morning dew, of green grass, of wet, damp soil overpowered Raxri. However, none of this became a bother: the cold wind that wrapped around them and then tousled the crops... felt like a blessing of the gods. Off in the distance, the sound of Maya birds tweeting and flitting about was punctuated by the occasional cry of monkeys and roars of tigers.
Behind the fenced-out section of the garden, beside the large strangler fig, was a sole areca palm. Raxri hazarded a guess that Akazha collected her betel nuts for her quids from that.
Then, a wide-brimmed hat. Peeking out from behind the giant roots of the strangler fig. Eventually, the wide-brimmed hat revealed a large... night heron, brown of feather, bright yellow-eyed. It walked in a funny, lax gait. It moved its wings as if it were its hands, keeping its hat on. On its beak was a long reed.
The heron walked like a young man needing to work the fields to earn their keep.
It yawned. A sound escaped its beak. The croaking crow of a night heron. Then, when it turned to see Raxri, it raised an eyebrow laxly. Unbothered, it said: "Yes? And for what reason under heaven would you have to be staring?" [1.6] Of Gods and Gods Again
A time once, where the Great Buddha Ginising Nang Kawalan walked upon their lotus pond. There, a great kite, the size of continents, fell and tried to slay them, unseeing to their true nature. Unfazed, the Great Awoken moved not, and when the great kite''s spire-like claws neared their heart, the great kite dove to the side. Their body destroyed the lotus pond. "You hunger, and so with compassion I harbor no hate for you," said the Great Awoken. "Were you to have bled me, you would have died on the spot, and been reborn into nadir hell." "O, merciful one. Forgive me. I did not see yet at the last second. I will do all I can to repent!" The Great Awoken shook their head. "Mercy is ever granted to you. To chase repentance is to cling to the loose rope of a boat. You will never clamber unto the vehicle." "What doest I?" "Be revealed the Law. And so, become greater in determination than you ever will be in guilt." And so the great kite demon god became the Great Awoken''s disciple, and was given the Law Name of Karakara. from The Water Lily Wreath Scriptures
"Good morn... heron?"
"Heh. The honorable martial artist may call me Jikajika. A little god bound and enthralled by a venerable and tempestuous witch... a tale old as the very gods."
"You are a god?"
"Thou hurt my non-existent ego with that tone! True may it be that I step not in the celestial gates of heaven, yet a god I be all the same. Arisen from the very flow of the universe, a sentient being withal!"
Raxri blinked slowly. Like a cat. Then, "If a god you truly be, then pray tell me what you are a god of?"
Jikajika mumbled something.
Raxri pressed their lips together. "Um... I beg the god their pardon...?"
Another mumble.
Raxri paused. Hellbound be the one to press and anger a god. The thought arose suddenly. Was this... embers of memory?
"Nothing you see! Nothing! I rule over nothing. Not all gods bear dominion, you hear. The vast majority of gods simply are the very things that they arise from and from which they glean their powers." Jikajika flapped once, and winds surrounded him, bearing him into the skies, into the gusts. "A god I be of little gusts and zephyrs."
Raxri nodded, genuinely glad they were learning something new. At least, it was new to them as of the present moment. "I see, I see! Thank you, honorable one."
Jikajika flapped again and flew around Raxri. "Yes, yes. I am the honorable one. You do yourself well, warrior. How interesting it is to see that the witch has allowed a new person within their circle. What story beareth you?"
Raxri shook their head. "I bear no story. I have lost all memory after seemingly being revived from the Vault of Souls. The master has sent me here to make me pick finger chilis."
Jikajika hollered. "The master?! I see. The amnesiac is Witch Akazha''s sole student, it seems!" He landed on the soil and began hopping toward the rows of crops. Then, he leaped into the air, removing his wide-brimmed hat and fanning it across the crops. Droplets of freshwater sprinkled upon them all. Then, Jikajika fell to the soil again, placing the hat on his birdy head. "Take care to follow me then. I''ll show you where the finger chilis are."
"How excellent! Are you the caretaker of this here garden?" Raxri asked as they followed Jikajika into the rows of crops. They wound about a few columns before arriving at the telltale long peppers, the bright green finger chilis.
Jikajika nodded proudly. "The one and only caretaker of the blessed gardens. The witch Akazha, I owe my life: she defended me and kept me safe from a horde of fey goblins. In return, I promised to grant her the best harvests ever." Jikajika used the wide-rimmed hat to point at the strangler fig. "That be my house, grand ficus. And what a lovely palace it is for me, a lowly god of winds."
"Nothing so lowly about a god."
Jikajika shrugged. Raxri picked the finger chilis and placed them onto the rattan basket they''d been given. "You are well informed. There is nothing lowly to be a god, though one be tethered to the terrestrial realm. The terrestrial god is upon the Desire Domain all the same."
"And you can talk! Nothing so lowly about the capacity to converse."
"Hear, kid. I''ve taken to liking where your heart is."
"Then, your responsibility is to water and cultivate these plants?"
Jikajika leapt atop a bamboo post. "Aye. I let the garden flourish. It''s the least I can do. In exchange, I get some offerings, some joss, so I never want food. More crucial yet: I speak with the other gods who live in this wood and curry favor on her behalf so she can live here peacefully without the threat of spirit intervention."
"You do a great deal for the witch, then," said Raxri, standing up straight as they finished getting the finger chilis.
"Aye. A great deal in truth. Nary, but a god can do so. Pray, tell me your name, child."
"Raxri Uttara, dear sir," replied Raxri, folding their hands palm-to-palm before their forehead and bowing. "A warrior lost of memory."
"Raxri Uttara..." Jikajika''s gaze became forlorn. Then, wandering. Watching something far behind Raxri. Raxri looked behind them and saw nothing but more bamboo and trees.
"A problem there be?"
Jikajika shook his head. "None, none at all. Move along, Raxri Uttara. Your master seeketh the very herbs thou now possess."
And Raxri did so, walking as fast as they could out of the garden.
Jikajika watched them leave with eyebrows furrowed. Deep in his mindspaces, his thoughts were a sea. A Vow Name that be for certain....
"I''ve returned!" hollered Raxri as they arrived at the outdoor kitchen. Akazha stood over it, having only a chest wrap and a light skirt around their waist. They stood with a wooden ladle over a cast iron pot.
"Hopefully with the finger chilis," replied Akazha, raising the ladle and tasting some of the soup. Behind her, two coconuts split open on a low bamboo table and a longknife.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"Yes, with finger chilis," said Raxri as they gave the witch the rattan basket. Akazha nodded in thanks and began placing finger chilis within.
The witch said, "Care you to check up on the clay pots? The rice within them is cooking."
Raxri walked over to the two other stovetop stoves they''d set up, a small wooden pot on each one. The smell of cooked white rice was unmistakable, more so with the pandan leaves within to grant it extra flavor. Raxri opened both pot lids; the rice had absorbed most of the water. "Just a few more moments!"
"The stew is almost ready as well."
In due time, the food finished cooking. Raxri brought both claypots to the table within their living room, having wrapped it first with exquisitely brocaded textiles. Akazha brought inside a large porcelain bowl, filled to the brim with the spicy, cooked-coconut smelling stew. Raxri was ready to eat, their belly groaning with anticipation, especially after such a grueling first lesson.
They sat on both ends of the table, and Akazha pressed their hands together in front of their lips and uttered: "AHOM HUNG HOMA." Raxri followed suit. Akazha smiled at that. "You must learn the secret way of the mantra. Perhaps, by attaining this Path, your memory shall return you yet."
"I would wish it so."
"It would. Now, eat."
The spicy coconut stew was, in truth, almost brownish in color. It was coconut milk mixed thoroughly with spicy shrimp paste, chopped finger chilis, and loads of black peppers. Onions and garlic provided its base, and strips of pork provided filling meat. It smelled just as good as it would have tasted.
Akazha flicked her wrist, and a porcelain spoon materialized. She used that to take soupy portions out of the bowl and onto her clay pot, then placed some onto Raxri''s.
Raxri bowed in thanks and set to eating.
The flavorful, spicy coconut mix filled Raxri with such bliss that they were pushed to tears. Raxri thought silently that perhaps food could similarly be a tool for attaining that thunderbolt enlightenment.
"All manners of craft are ways to enlightenment, you know," said Akazha as she shoved another handful of rice with the stew into her mouth. Raxri became aware of how they ate: pointer, middle, and ring fingers together, with the thumb used to press rice into triangular shapes, like a little pyramid. This would pack the rice as an outer layer, with the stew and stewbits mushed into the pyramid. This they would push into their mouth with the help of the same thumb they used to form the rice pyramid. Then they would go back to gathering into a pile, which they would then push into pyramid shapes again. It was an effective and very versatile way of eating, as maneuvering with the fingers was literally just moving the hand. The only drawback, Raxri realized as they drew their hand back suddenly from the rice, was that these dishes were still freshly hot!
Nevertheless, the flavor deceives not. The taste fills the heart.
"The master speaks true?"
"Straight truth. The Adamantine Path recognizes all manner of Arts as valid on the path to Enlightenment. Sheer cultivation of one''s skills can lead to the truth of Emptiness and true gnosis. In the perfection of something, one finds the truth beyond liberation and non-liberation."
All quite heady, to Raxri. "My understanding of your words is meager."
"Enlightenment comes yet. But it is slow. As a great sage once said: as with sleeping, it cometh slowly, then all at once."
They continued to eat, and Raxri was very much being nourished by the stew. They could visibly feel their aching joints and screaming muscles quiet, soften, still, and accept the growth that came. "Rejuvenation fills my bones," Raxri said as they almost licked the clay pot clean. What refreshment!"
"Ah, speaking of refreshment." Akazha rose to her feet and then entered the annex. A few moments later, she returned with two coconuts with their top halves cut apart and a reed straw shooting out of it. When the witch handed it to Raxri, it was cold, chilly. Raxri took a sip, and true refreshment immediately shot through them as if they''d just drunk a healing potion.
"All my food is infused with a medicinal elixir I''ve made myself, using a special mix of spices, honey, and Rejuvenation herbs. Feel you yet its effects?"
"I do fullheart. It is as if we didn''t train!"
"Courtesy all of your master." She sat again, picking at her teeth with a toothpick. "I take it you''ve met my faithful god-servant Jikajika?"
Raxri smiled and nodded. "The god be of great humor, akin to an uncle."
Akazha shrugged. "I suppose that is his disposition. However, you would do well to exercise proper caution and respect. A god he be yet."
"Yes. I''ve done so with the same respect I afford my ancestors. How interesting the gods be, teacher. Do they truly live in concert with nature?"
Akazha nodded. "The gods and spirits are one, the two names are but a trick of imperfect language. Godhood is separated into multiple realms within its own Path. Some Gods live in the Highest Heavens, others in Middle Heaven, others in the Lower Heavens, even more upon the Earth, and some as well in the Hells. You would do well to remember the basic layer of it, lest you offend the very gods."
"And the god Jikajika be of the lower realms?"
"Dang Hwan."
Raxri tilted their head to the side, questioning.
Akazha continued: "When thou speaketh to those magnitudes above thee, the proper honorific is Dang Hwan. That means Most Honorable or Most Venerable in Elder Karitan."
"I see. Dang Hwan Jikajika is a god of the earth, then?"
"Aye. Jikajika is of the lowest kind. A god so pathetic, they were in danger of being slain by a roving demon horde," said Jikajika, feigning being hurt. "A little night heron, borne upon winds and zephyrs."
"And so in debited to you, they work your fields, now?"
Witch Akazha nodded, swallowing another spoonful of the spicy stew. Raxri realized both of them were sweating profusely, which helpfully cooled down their body. Akazha lent Raxri a cloth, and Raxri took it gracefully. "A cute fellow he be, eh?" asked Akazha. "But he is a good god, and he does it in exchange for teachings of enlightenment. He wishes to either be reborn as a higher god, or attain buddhahood altogether."
"A god can attain buddhahood yet?"
Akazha nodded. "Aye. However, those on the Human Path will find it easier to attain Buddhahood. Gods have powers granted to them, and with power comes blindness. With blindness cometh bliss. And personal bliss in a world of suffering is enough to make the pursuit of Buddhahood a hassle. Why would you, when you live for a thousand years and can control the very winds? That is the flaw of the gods. Pride."
"All gods suffer this?"
"Aye, unless they truthfully and sincerely kowtow and prostrate to the Buddhas and the Arhats. Nonetheless, it is the humans that awaken easier yet."
Raxri munched on this tidbit of information as they finished eating. Raxri took all of their dishes, brought them to the river, and washed them as quickly as they could underneath the shade of the giant trees¡ªmahoganies, acacias, pines, palms, coconuts, hardwoods, and cashew trees. Though the sun bore down on them, for it was no doubt a few movements past Zenith, the sun''s hallowed-hate rays were weak against the hungry greens of the trees'' giant leaves.
Afterward, Raxri returned all the dishes to the kitchen in two trips. The witch Akazha gave them a rattan bag for the next time they were to bring the dishes. For the rest of the day, the witch Akazha spent the sun''s movements chanting and performing rituals in her upstairs rooms. She told Raxri that it was time to rest for now because, no doubt, the stress of sudden intense body dynamics would burn their very muscles.
Raxri spent the rest of the day sitting on the front porch with a pot of tea, watching the swaying trees and the snakes that slithered across the path. The stray monitor lizard walking to and fro. A few deers bounded from bush to bush. Once, they even saw a walking crocodile as enormous as the giant tree''s titanic roots. The crocodile looked at Raxri once, and Raxri bowed, folded hands on their forehead. The crocodile had considered them for a moment and then continued walking, disappearing again into the bushes. Raxri sipped their tea.
When the sky bled orange from the sun''s blades, Akazha walked out. "Dear student, our dinner will be the rest of the coconut stew. It is important that you finish this if we are to continue our training tomorrow."
Raxri nodded. "Very well, teacher."
When the darkness was overwhelming, turning even the indigo sky now into a pure black, Akazha walked out and lit the palm leaf torches. Raxri walked inside and finished the rest of the coconut stew, which now had smaller portions of leftover rice.
"I conjecture," Akazha started, as they were halfway through their meal, that you were someone important in the past. Or at least someone who had somewhat been storied by spirits. Jikajika spoke with me and mentioned that the name you bear is familiar."
"Do you speak true? I cannot fathom what I might have done in the past that my name be known by a god." Raxri placed a hand on their chin and thought.
"From your build..., both Jikajika and I conjectured you to be some sort of warrior in the past. What other being would have muscles like you, combined with a sleek, triangular frame? Your muscles bear the imprint of violence, not of rice-carrying, not of carpentry. The sleek, sinuous fibers align with the stroke of a sword. Perhaps you are a storied knight. Perhaps you answered to the Great Kingdoms, perhaps even to the Empire itself of Shen."
"Shen... the name rings no bells. But I suppose none of the names have rung any bells presently." Raxri set about to eat once more.
"That is truly an astonishing fact." Akazha shrugged. "I suppose we shall learn as we deepen your training."
"But, teacher. What if we don''t?" asked Raxri.
Akazha waved her hand dismissively. "We will. I always do." [1.7] Let Men Reach Immortality
One day, the dragon princess Aisjimari met the Black Lotus Buddha traveling on a coastal road. Excited, she traveled up to them and asked: "O, most venerable one! I bow to your wisdom. Please, share with me an answer! I am a young girl filled with pride and wrath and envy and lust. How can I contend with these things, the very things that make me human? The desire that is the way to heaven?" The Black Lotus Buddha sat down on a boulder, sat in a lotus position, and sang: "Once when tigers yet smoked, a great sage traveled to a marsh border town where demon warbands roved its hinterlands. Once, they were infected by a curious plague, that caused blackened veins and eyes. When the sage arrived, they asked her for help, as many doctors left and returned and found nothing but poisonous herb and flowers. The sage asked the doctors to lead her to where they were gathering their plants, and they did so. There, the sage uprooted the most poisonous herb of bright scarlet and indigo, and crushed it in her hands. Then, with oils and with mantras, while in Pure Contemplation, she ground and mashed and turned into paste the poison. She asked the doctors to administer the paste. Afraid, the doctors followerd her orders still. They gave the paste, and everyone afflicted with the plague, was cured and cleansed of their hurt, and was even rejuvenated further. The doctors thanked the great sage profusely." "What meaneth this, highest venerable?" The Black Lotus Buddha said: "Your human nature is a poison to Buddha nature. But medicine often comes from poison. Therefore, turn thy poison into medicine." From the Hundred Tales of the Dragon Princess Scripture
Grueling days passed. Grueling yet for Raxri, whose muscles screamed at the fiery pain whenever they were pushed past their limit. However, as with a blossoming, Raxri''s mind was ever susceptible to the teachings. Akazha''s teaching style was that of granting lessons while performing physical matters. At least when it came to martial arts.
Akazha said, early on: "The first thing you must know is that you must learn how to meditate. Come." Akazha sat on a clean boulder atop the clear river. Raxri did the same. They sat cross-legged in a lotus position. Then, Akazha said: "Follow me. Breathe in. Breath out. Focus on the breathing. There, focus. Now, what do you hear?"
"The chirping of the birds, the babbling of the brook," replied Raxri. Akazha nodded, satisfied. "Think upon that for a moment." And Raxri did.
A few more moments later, Akazha called out: "Close your eyes. What do you smell?"
"The smell of dew upon great mountain leaves, the smell of wet stone."
"Focus upon it for a moment."
And so they did. A long stretch of quietness, of solitude, of nothingness.
Then, Akazha said: "Next, what do you feel?"
Raxri thought for a moment, looking at what they could feel. "The stiffness of my back from sitting upon this rock, the water spray from the river. The fresh winds..."
"Focus upon that, for a moment."
Another moment of void. Raxri felt themselves being carried off, their mind space floating above them. They could visualize themselves sitting where they were, sitting in front of Akazha. They became mindful then: they focused on everything they did at that moment. They became the master of their thoughts, talking through their thoughts, guiding them, and telling them what to think. Is this mindfulness?
Then, Akazha said: "Expand your awareness now to the whole world. Reach up to the solid dome of the sky above. Reach down to the subterranean realms below. Reach to the sides and envelop all sentient beings in this realm with an undeniable compassion."
As Akazha said those things, Raxri followed. It came easily. It was easy to suddenly imagine one''s awareness up in the sky, slamming against the malachite dome, or otherwise burrowing deep underground and experiencing the rush of an underground river, or otherwise the waterfall in the far ends of this archipelago, or the still pond on the farthest north of the region... Raxri felt themselves slipping into a state where there was nothing but what they were doing.
"Expand your awareness now, finally, once again," said Akazha. "To the realm beyond all realms. To the voidness, vastness, and nothingness of all space."
Raxri reached up, focusing on meditating upon the emptiness. How all those things being able to be captured by their mind meant they existed in Raxri''s mind, and Raxri in their''s. The interpenetration of all things, the no difference of Raxri and It...
Into emptiness, they leapt.
"This is basic meditation," said Akazha as they inhaled and exhaled. Her voice echoed from the surroundings, leaping and bounding from the leaves, carried by the winds, by the babbling brook. "Simple one-pointedness, the slow descent into emptiness. Many experts call this the Simple Void Meditation. But it''s enough to ground you, and it''s enough to activate the things required in a martial art. There are many, many meditation techniques. It is the main way of controlling one''s Nihawa. It is also the most common Ascension Technique to rise the ranks of power.
"Normally, students would take a moon or two to fully grasp meditation and to fully wield the esoteric skills of a martial art such as the Whorl Hand. However, like I''ve said, with you... the familiarity makes it easier. Which is good. I don''t suppose you will have much time."
It took Raxri a good three days to grasp meditation as a practice fundamentally. On the third day, they were forced to learn how to use it while in battle.
That day, Akazha taught Raxri by psychically controlling a piece of stick, long enough to be a spear, with nothing but an unseen hand. "Watch closely! This is one of the most important techniques of the Whorl Hand Art. The Whorl Guard! Once known as the Malachite Hand of Ksewran. I taught you how to meditate, didn''t I?"
"Yes, great witch, but I don''t know how I''m supposed to meditate in the middle of combat!" Akazha struck with the stick, and Raxri, relying on their muscle memory now, parried it away.
"If that were a blade, your hand would have been lost, now!"
"Teach me the Devastating Red Hand, master!"
"First, know this. Your meditation must expand, eventually, into whatever you do. You can suffuse yourself with meditation... and in so doing you inch ever closer to Extinction, the great transcension. Do this by being mindful, focusing on absolutely nothing else but what is in front of you, and controlling all your mental energy into that specific task. This is meditation. Should you eat, drink, shit, bathe, run, or fight... you can meditate upon it. This is the Clear Light Path Beyond Immortality."
Raxri gulped and nodded. Akazha incanted a spell, and the stick''s wood was ripped away to reveal a steel blade. "Now!" She swung the blade with her mind. Raxri bent down to dodge it and leaped to the side, but the steel blade was there anyway. It plunged itself into Raxri''s side. Our cloud-headed hero yelped in pain, and they pulled it out of themselves.
"Your thoughts," said Akazha. "Told you to flee instead of face your target. Cease doubt; seize victory! Bring out your meditation!"
Raxri inhaled. Raxri exhaled. Without any other knowledge, they cleared their mind and focused on their fists. On the blade. On the blade that was, at that moment, now slicing through the air towards them. They inhaled again and then planted both their feet onto the ground--wincing a bit at the sudden pain, but Raxri was quick to take that thought of pain and throw it away--hand raised. As they exhaled, they channeled their breath, turning it leaden hot.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Nothing but this.
Raxri''s hands burned bright green-blue. The color of malachite.
They parried with the back of their hand and shattered the blade.
That instant of sheer meditation slipped away. Suddenly, the wind was cold. Suddenly, the brook was loud. Suddenly, the leaves rustled too much, and there were too many of them all about.
Raxri looked up, breathing heavily, wearing nothing but a sarong. Akazha smiled at them. "There you have it. The Whorl Guard."
Since understanding this part of meditation and fighting, learning new techniques became like second nature. Alongside all the Whorl Hand Art fundamentals, Raxri had multiple sparring sessions per day with Akazha to re-drill the muscle reflexes into our cloud-headed hero.
It wasn''t long before Raxri had learned a good number of Whorl Hand Techniques. Devastating Red Hand, which funneled spiritual force into a connecting fist, sending the one struck back by a few wings. The Bladed Hand commanded true battle meditation, but it, in truth, turned the blades of one''s hand into true cutting instruments. Finally, Raxri learned how to flip, apparently an integral part of the Whorl Hand Art. It did cause Raxri to limber up completely.
And though Raxri had learned much in such a short time (truly, even Akazha had said that it was as if Raxri had known these techniques before), they intimately understood that Akazha knew yet more. She was a true master, and perhaps she wasn''t exactly inclined to have had students before Raxri.
At the end of one training session, as they lounged about the porch of Akazha''s cottage eating sweetened bananas, Akazha said: "You''ve learned a lot now, student."
Raxri nodded but was too busy chewing on a banana.
"In truth, it''s still kind of pathetic," she said. "You bear the fingerprint of someone so skilled in the martial arts. But now you can barely hold your own against me. You''ve lost so much of your cultivation."
"Sounds sad."
"It is!"
"But I don''t remember everything I''ve learned before! So might as well just go through it again."
Akazha shrugged. "I envy your optimism. If I were to lose all my cultivation... I would have given up."
"I suppose, at times, ignorance truly is bliss. Both the master and the student have got no clue as to my original level. In this, it is easier to restart."
"Ha!" Akazha barked out a laugh. "Spare me, you would-be sage! But a nugget of truth can be found yet in your murky water for a brain."
Raxri laughed. "Well, you know what they say!"
Akazha rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes. No mud, no lotus. Spare me the koans and idioms, student. Lest you suffer ten lashings."
Raxri smiled and then shoved another banana into their mouth. The truth was that Raxri had no idea there was an idiom. They just said that so that they could stop talking.
"Nevertheless," said Akazha, licking now her fingers. "It still is an interesting thing, you know. Though your skill is just that again of a beginner''s... the rate at which you pick them up is astounding. It''s as if your body yet remembers. I''ve no idea what this might mean. Perhaps the monks in Mount Jura might know a thing or two about it..."
"No matter the speed of my learning, my application leaves a chasm to be desired. I will hone my skill nonetheless to protect you as you have protected me."
Akazha smiled. Raxri turned to look at her, but she looked away. Raxri swallowed the banana and said, "Will you eat this?"
Akazha rolled her eyes and shook her head, choosing instead to sip on her chilled tea drink. Happy, Raxri finished the last of the sweetened bananas.
On the eleventh day of training, Raxri and Akazha set off. Akazha gave Raxri a different set of clothes, one where they wouldn''t be mistaken for a monk or an ascetic. A loose cloth doublet and a silken sarong, with a gold rope bound tightly around their waist to carry multiple medicines packed into jars. Raxri also wore an extra set of wooden sandals.
Akazha herself had also adopted a more pragmatic outfit: a long-sleeved vest that wrapped around her upper torso, a similar sarong, though cut much shorter, and the same wooden sandals. Slung diagonally across her chest was a small cloth bag that housed multiple poultices that they might need. Then, she wore a loose, wide-sleeved robe decorated with angular geometric symbols and colored the blue of the noon sky.
Both of them had on wide-brimmed hats.
"Great master, forgive me, but may I ask again where we journey to?"
Akazha sighed. "Tannum Village, student, if you so wish to spoil this surprise. We will go there to buy some fish and meat. And it will be good for you to see some other people integrate well back into society. Perhaps we can find yet more answers, though I doubt it."
And so they set off, both of them riding upon Sungai, galloping northward toward the side of Pemi Island that faced the Viridian Sea. They followed the dirt path blazed by earth-traveling merchants until it met with a coastal path. The sea breeze was surprisingly fresh at this time of morning. The sea was a bright blue, looking like blue fire, tossing to and fro. The blue of the sea met with the blue of the sky at its furthest distance: Raxri could see no more lands beyond that point. Or, at least, as their imperfect eye can see.
The Tannum Road
The sound of soft crying and the clamor of gruff men and women interrupted their peaceful ride.
Up the road, Raxri and Akazha saw a throng of bandits, all of them wearing straw raincapes, vests and sarouels, wielding longknives and harpoons turned spears. On one side of the path was a dead carabao and various vegetables and fruits scattered upon the lumpy dirt road.
"Bandits," Akazha spat, and then she scoffed. "Dear student, think you capable of handling this?"
Raxri took stock: five bandits in dirty clothes and emaciated frames¡ªhungry ones, these would be. "Is there a famine?"
Akazha nodded forlornly. "Locked in ever war, the Utter Islands are fractured not just in geography but in politics and resources. We live in a destroyed world: bandits, marauders, pirates, ravagers... they all do this to survive, make ends meet, living in the frontiers. Many of them end up creating new communities, new settlements, new towns, new kingdoms... That is the law of the Utter Islands, after all. We live in a fractured world. Faced with such a quandary, living in these Lands of Suffering, what do you?"
Raxri stepped down from Sungai. Though they shook, though terror seized them rightfully, they took a stand. "I will take care of the bandits. That is my duty."
Akazha smiled and ruffled Raxri''s hair. "Good boy, good boy." She moved Sungai to the side, to the brush of trees, hidden away from the bandits'' view.
Raxri stepped forward. Hands balled into fists, they emanated their martial skill. I must be careful. I should dispatch them quickly. No room for fancy tricks. Stick to the fundamentals and pulverize them to the ground. Raxri exhaled.
Raxri was not terribly tall. They measured around five tails and two claws tall, at most. The most average of heights, though not one where one towered over them all. Despite Raxri''s frame and narrow waist, they did not exude a field of intimidation that larger and taller warriors would have had.
The young boy, who sat by his dead carabao, whimpered, protecting a small sack of what seemed to be bananas and taro crops.
"Release it! Release it, and yer life be saved yet!" One of the bandits snarled and then kicked the little boy, though with a certain restraint. The boy cried out again.
Raxri stopped a few good feet away from them. Inhaled, exhaled. Then: "By my authority, cease!"
The bandits all stopped. Turning, they brandished their weapons. One of them had an arquebus with them. She was the one who stepped forward. "O? What a curiosity, eh lads? A woman come to protect little children? What do ye, eh? There''s fivetimes of us than you. And I''ve a gun!"
Raxri''s frown turned into a scowl. A diamond resolve to save those that cannot save themselves. Suddenly, all thoughts of self-preservation and hesitation faded, single-pointed, into the duty of protecting the little boy. Raxri yelled: "Cease your banditry, and I may yet grant you mercy!"
"HA! And you''re the one to talk! Stand aside, woman, lest we have our way with you!" The gun-bandit snapped her finger, and a bow-bandit from behind them loosed an arrow, which flew crookedly but close enough to Raxri.
Here, Raxri wielded that technique: Whorl Guard. With a circular movement, using only their bare hands, they caught the arrow from underneath its trajectory and deflected it towards the ground.
To Raxri''s right, the sea clashed against the stone shore.
"Bloody tits of the Unconquerable Maiden..." The harpoon-bandit cursed. "A martial artist!"
The gun-bandit spat. "What, you think yourself to be a hero, then? Spare me! No heroes are to be found in this Age of Furor!" They began loading their gun. The others yelled and dashed forward.
Raxri took stock. Two bearing longknives, one with a harpoon, far behind the bow-wielder, and then their captain: the gunbearer.
Akazha''s teachings echoed in Raxri''s thoughts. "Cease doubt; seize victory." Grasping onto the grueling martial training they''d undergone, they dashed forward to meet them. Great strides to meet the bandits.
Immediately, Raxri elbowed the closest bandit''s chin: the one with the harpoon. The harpoon-bandit spat out blood, and Raxri continued the movement, slamming the base of their palm into the bandit''s forehead, slamming both palms into both temples and then twisting in a way to toss the harpoon bandit behind them.
The two longknife bandits appeared, swinging wildly. Raxri scattered backward, avoiding their wild swings, until the one on their right swung too wide. Raxri closed in, fist slamming into that bandit''s wrist and cracking it, forcing the longknife out.
A longknife slashed Raxri''s back. The strike was wide, however, and so the slash was mostly caught by the doublet, the cotton acting as a cushion. Raxri kicked backward, their foot cutting into that bandit''s neck. With that same foot, Raxri hooked that bandit''s neck and slammed them into the floor. With another movement, Raxri scampered for the bandit''s hand, disarmed him of their weapon, and then impaled the bandit''s hand to the ground with their same weapon.
Another longknife swung through the air. Raxri ducked just in time to avoid the brunt of it. The other bandit they had disarmed had risen again and swung again. Wide swings, the swings of someone untrained. I am troubled even against the untrained!
Raxri moved in to block the strike again, but this time, that bandit punched Raxri in the gut, stepped wide to the side, and then sliced down. A clean chop, one with the full weight of the wielder behind it.
Roaring, Raxri raised their hand, reaching for any strand of meditation to activate the Whorl Guard...
Hammer-force instead slammed into their left forearm.
Glancing down at it, no gash. Instead, the talismanic tattoo that wound about Raxri''s left forearm burned a bright scarlet, as if cindered, and slowly faded.
Raxri moved on no-thought. The bandit too was wide-eyed at the sudden turn. Raxri lodged two fists into the bandit''s stomach, continuing into an elbow up the bandit''s forehead, a knee into the gut for good measure. Then, a broad crackling slap, enhanced with the Devastating Red Hand, sent the bandit flying backward.
Raxri breathed heavily. Strands of cloud hair all about them.
Then--
BANG. A gunshot ripped through the air. [1.8] Though Death Be Close
A vagrant once traveled a broken road. Though he be clad in rusting armors, he was attacked yet by a tiger. He did not bother to defend himself. He let himself be torn apart by the tiger, limb from limb. In pain he cried out not. That is not the way of the Arhat. At the end of it all, corpse desiccating on the ground, the tiger was full, and left their hunting grounds. Until the next moon, travelers journeyed that path without worry and without danger. From the Black Hibiscus Scriptures
The bullet exploded through Raxri''s shoulder.
Raxri slammed onto the ground. Dismay and shock.
Akazha ran in then, with her floating kalis still at the ready. With an incantation, her magicked kalis set to work. It flitted like a dragonfly, surgically cutting and tearing apart hands and limbs and legs and even an eye. All of which Akazha immediately sewed shut with that same mantra to the buddhas.
The gun-bandit was left without hands, falling to the floor. Akazha''s floating kalis struck the earth where the gun-bandit''s long gun had fallen, annihilating it.
Like a bolt, an arrow soared across the air straight for Akazha. Without a hitch, completely in rhythm, Akazha twisted, crossing her legs, and deflected the arrow immediately, her hands burning malachite blue. Then, she took a step¡ªuncoiling her legs¡ªwhich then turned into a gigantic sidekick that sent soil billowing into the air as a blast of wind lanced from her outstretched foot, ripping through the bow-bandit.
Slamming to the floor sent the bandit unconscious.
Raxri''s blood-drenched the earth.
They could feel their breath shorten. Is this it? Is this the end of the line? Given a second chance just to die immediately after? Who was I? What was I? Does that matter now? Giving up... feels like the better option. Why should I strive even more when everything is trying to kill me right now?
Raxri''s breaths quickened. The last few gasps of life.
Perhaps it is my destiny, thought Raxri. Their meditation vanished. Their cloud of delusion suffused them even more now. They''d forgotten all their vows. Their thoughts were not the thoughts of a great enlightenment warrior but of a weak, ailing tyrant-king. I was supposed to die. I was not supposed to survive in the Vault of Souls. I was supposed to die there. I was a fool to fight against my destiny. A fool to shirk my fate. A fool to cheat death when death is not meant to be cheated. A fool, a fool, a fool.
Akazha ran up to our cloud-headed hero. Her kalis danced about, following her as well, like a hummingbird.
Leave me be, witch Akazha, and forgive me. I am no hero; I am no great warrior. I am a forgotten and washed-up child. I have been beaten once before, thrown to the ends of the world. There is no way I will return now. To die is my eminent hand. If I was killed before, then I must have been no great warrior. I was no great king, no great sage, no great mystic, no great wizard. If greatness truly resided in me, I would have reclaimed it the second I revived, but I did not. I am nothing. I am nothing. I am not worthy to be revived. Leave me be; leave me to my death. I tire of it all. Despair, take me now! Forlornness, seize my heart! My body screams with the same fatigue, the same exhaustion. The sweet release of death, oh how sensual, how arousing it is to finally have rest... I wished for none of this!
"Oh dear, student. Are you well?"
Raxri couldn''t talk, though their thoughts burned brightly with regret and remorse. In truth, Raxri was entirely swallowed by despair.
The pain that was like flame numbed now. Everything darkened now. Even Raxri''s thoughts faded, dissolving, a shell of what they once were or once could have been.
Then, looking at Akazha, Raxri''s eyes fell upon the boy behind her¡ªthe one sitting by the carabao.
And there, Raxri remembered their duty, their responsibility, their conviction.
For a brief moment, all despair was cleaved, split in half by the shadow of that responsibility. As long as my duty is not done... I cannot die. Not yet.
With renewed vigor, their eyes fell upon Akazha, who pouted.
I cannot die without the regret that I have not seen my duty''s end. Witch Akazha... grant me your healing magicks! Their eyes darted to the healing unguents.
Pouting still, she knelt before him and said. "I was hoping I was able to train you enough," she said, sighing. "Here. My only Healing Pill." Akazha''s slender fingers helped insert the bright crimson healing pill into Raxri''s mouth. Raxri still had an ounce of energy left to swallow.
A beat.
Then--
A font of energy exploded out from where Raxri could at first feel the pain, like a lotus bursting from mud or like water bursting from stone. Impossibly, they found the strength returning to their arms, legs, feet, and hands.
Raxri pushed themselves off the ground and patted the wounded area. There was a dull pain, but a low green glow now danced about the torn open wound, quickly suturing it. It was uncanny. As if watching a wound heal in quickened motion.
Akazha immediately sighed, though quietly. As if not to show too much care.
The relief overpowered Raxri''s doubts. Grinning, Raxri immediately thought of the boy.
Raxri rushed over to the boy, who sat still, as if paralyzed by the sudden events. "Are you well?"
The boy blinked. "I... I think so, save for the cuts on my arm." But they were watching the fast-acting effect of the healing pill.
"Healed quickly those, no doubt. Here." Raxri pulled out some vials of medicinal drink. "Imbibe these, and you''ll be as good as new. Though you''ll have to get your wounds cleaned up yet."
Akazha had gotten up to administer little bits of healing poultice to the beat-up bandits and then also placed a single strip of palm leaf paper upon their heads, no doubt in hopes of granting them some soteriological solace.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Akazha had removed her wide-brimmed hat, and now her long black hair had been tied taut into a messy bun on top of her head. This revealed much of their pale neck pocked with angular tattoos and, more interestingly, her ears, which Raxri did not see at first due to the way she plaited her hair. Akazha''s ears were long, triangular, and pointed, like those of a devil''s. Or knives.
The boy bit his lip when Akazha came near.
"Fear not, young one," said Raxri, holding the little boy''s hand. "The healer bears great compassion. She will tend to your convalescence. See? She healed even me."
Akazha knelt and scooped out a good chunk of healing poultice with three fingers. She applied this as one applied oils to all the young one''s wounds. The boy winced at some of them, but for the most part, he felt great relief as the burning fires of his wounds were soothed by the cooling touch of the poultice.
"There. Better?"
The boy smiled weakly. Nodded just as weak.
"Poor carabao," said Akazha, patting the water buffalo''s corpse. She closed her eyes as she caressed the hide of the carabao and then said: "He died protecting you."
Raxri''s eyes narrowed for the briefest moment at Akazha.
"Y-Yes," replied the boy. "Bubo... I''ll miss him."
"The gods will take him. He will have a much better next life since he was loved so much." Akazha uttered a mantra before the carabao.
"Really?"
Akazha smiled. "Aye. Now, come. Where were you headed? You can ride Sungai. He''s a strong stallion."
"I... I was coming home from the lands of Uncle Las¨¢ng Potra. Home to Tannum."
"Ah, that old devil," Akazha rose to her feet, helping the boy up as well. She turned to Raxri and pointed with her lips: "Up the forest, a bit is a place of abundant groves. There, the little forest god Dang Hwan Las¨¢ng Potra lives and has lived for centuries, weathering the ever war of the Invincible Blade Princess."
Raxri turned to watch where Akazha had indicated. A flurry of leaves. Something was there. Then, a stinging pain. Raxri flinched, turned: saw that Akazha was also applying poultices to Raxri''s other wounds.
"Drink the medicine," Akazha said. "You will need it."
Raxri nodded and obeyed. The same cooling sensation surged through Raxri from within now. They''d been told that the medicine mystically supercharges the natural healing processes of the mortal body. Combined with the inherent rejuvenation of the citrusy drink, Raxri felt like they could walk for miles again despite having gash wounds.
Akazha helped the boy mount Sungai, asking: "What''s your name, young one?"
"Tin?," replied the boy. He was skinny, though not malnourished by any means. His light brown hair reflected the sungleam. His eyes the color of young amber.
"All right, Tin?. Be careful next time, all right? Your parents must have a great amount of trust in you to let you travel alone."
Tin? took the small space in front of Akazha, right behind Sungai''s neck. "The path to Tannum is close yet. Be Sungai''s guide, Raxri."
Raxri nodded, taking this as yet more training. They took Sungai''s reins and led them, walking down the path.
"Only now the bandits have reached here," explained Tin?. "Safe were we, in times past. Now... everything is ravaged."
"That is aught to happen when there be ravagers," said Akazha, with a slight sigh. "The Utter Islands truly have fallen. Now the grand empires are buried beneath the soil, and the mountains have forsaken us. Though perhaps, in the singing of the zephyrs, as they dance about the monuments to mankind''s achievements, one can find certain enlightenment."
Raxri, walking in front of them, said: "But, master, said you not that Extinction is found in shedding one''s attachment to this world of suffering?"
"Aye, student." Akazha shrugged. "But the deeper truth is that Extinction and Suffering are not separate. They are, in truth, one and the same."
Raxri''s brow furrowed. They turned, head tilted, intensely questioning. "I understand not?"
"That is a lesson yet for you to realize. For now, keep in meditation: what is beautiful in this world are glimpses of the underlying Buddha-Reality."
Raxri turned and nodded, and they walked on a few more tails in the path. They did so in relative silence. When Raxri turned behind them, they saw that Tin? had fallen asleep.
"The boy is tired," said Akazha, looking off into the distant seas. The waves crashed softly. The sky was lightly clouded. Their broad-rimmed hats provided a much-needed respite from the sun''s scorching rays.
The path itself was canopied by mangroves and palm trees on the edge. As expected, no sane human would deign to walk under the scorching sun while in this humid heat.
Raxri was deep in thought as they walked. Akazha noticed. She leaned down and plucked a loose strand of hair from Raxri''s cloud hair.
"Ow!"
"It seems you are not yet ready."
Raxri thought for a long while. Then, they said: "Perhaps... but with my duty ahead of me... I cannot fall into death''s despair just yet. I will be ready the next time. Forgive me, master."
Akazha didn''t reply. She didn''t want to admit any fault¡ªnot yet. She said, "A healthy way of looking at it, that be sure. You are a good student." A beat, and then she said, "What is your duty?"
Raxri shrugged, then stared at the sky. "This is why I don''t like thinking. I have to answer you now because I have an answer!" They turned and looked at Akazha. "To protect those that can''t protect themselves. My memories be damned. If this world is a world of suffering... then what kind of person am I not to chip in and help and try to make it easier for everyone?"
Akazha was silenced by their straightforwardness. She nodded, turned, and stared at the boy who sat in front of her, who had fallen asleep now. A wind sent their clothes bristling. Hark, a wind of invigoration, to be true. Heaven''s blessing upon Raxri''s newfound duty.
"Tis a good thing the master had that healing pill when she did," said Raxri, walking still.
"It was my only one. If I were going to make more, or purchase any more, I''d have to either wish that a Nilatpan or a Heavenshardian esoterica merchant drops by, or I''ll have to make the trip there. Terribly inconvenient."
Raxri smiled. "I must seek forgiveness. I was not up to the master''s expectation."
"Wallow not in self-pity, student," replied Akazha, ruffling their hair again. "That is a mire from which none can escape. Use this as fuel instead, upon the furnace of your soul. Upon the burning of your Heart. You will now endeavor to better yourself, I''m sure. Now, with more than one brush with death... I''m sure a fire has been set in your heart."
Raxri nodded deeply. "My heart is ablaze, master. I must get better yet. I cannot have another brush with death such as that!"
"Good," said Akazha, smiling. "Then that is all of the proof you will need. No one is good immediately, even if they were good at something in the past. Take your time. You will learn to protect me yet."
"Master, may I ask? This tattoo upon my forearm... what does it mean? It protected me from that stray slash."
"Ah," and Akazha pulled down a bit of her robe and tunic to reveal the snaking, angular tattoos that snaked through her. "Those are talismanic tattoos. Judging from the writing, it seems to have the same design and tradition of the Selorong Mountain Mystics, who tattooed themselves the very mantras and sacred geometries that blast away the imperfections of Wandering."
"I see. But... I woke up with them. I do not remember what they do."
"I should have taught you earlier. I am bound with the same talismanic tattoos borne from the Infinite Law. These tattoos grant fortune, blessing, protection, power, charisma, and yet more to etched one. These are the writings of the secret teachings of the Buddhas Mystics, who attained Awakening through esotery. I gained these from Mountain Mystics; they do not simply give it to anyone. One must have earned them. No one else would have given it to you otherwise."
"I see." Raxri nodded in slight understanding. Then, they asked: "Are you capable of creating these same tattoos?"
Akazha smiled and nodded. "However, I cannot do so without the express permission of another group of tattooing mystics or monks. So that will have to be a dream for you until you have both earned it and found permission, my dear student."
Raxri nodded again.
They continued on, wandering down the path.
Before long, the road wound to the side, turning around a small hill. Past it, a village sprawled just before the shore, set upon a rocky outcropping. The dirt road wound past the village, down the rocky outcropping, and presumably into the sandy seaside.
Tannum Village
"Tannum Village," said Akazha. "We''re here, Tin?. Wake, now, child."
And Tin? did. Yawning as he opened his eyes. The three of them slowly made their way to the village proper. [1.9] Let The Mind Conquer
The person who died forsook his very duty. And so when he was reborn, though he was reborn with powerful Bodhisattva Mind, and Bodhicitta, they were yet still forced to suffer the karma of having been a forsaker of one''s dharma. But that is the truth of the world, did you not know? Karma, ultimately, perpetuates suffering. The teaches of the Buddha exists to free you from the Wheel, not to Master it. From the Black Hibiscus Scriptures
Raxri took note: the first village they did see in this world. Each house was built upon stilts, no doubt in anticipation of certain flooding. Yet underneath each house was a fence, and within each fence were either tables or livestock, such as little chickens or young pigs. Each house looked more or less like Akazha''s cottage, though with fewer annexes. Many also had their kitchens outside, in their own roofed enclosure.
The houses were set well apart: no house was squished beside another, allowing for plenty of room. Perhaps, more importantly to Raxri, this allowed the cold breezes to fill each house, cooling and chilling them as needed.
Almost every house was shaded or accompanied by a tree, whether a palm leaf, a many-leaved acacia, a mango tree, a tree of rambutans, a banana grove, or a copse of thick bamboo.
As they walked, Raxri saw groups of people walking on by, carrying chopped bamboo, jars of water on their heads, earthenware filled with stews or steamed foods, and more. Almost everyone was carrying some form of fish, shell, or other seafood wrapped in cloths or reed baskets. It was a fishing village, no doubt.
Some of them stopped by and waved to Akazha, greeting her as "Friend Witch!" Akazha greeted them back with a smile.
"O, Tin?!" A plump old man, hair and beard greying, ran up to them. The man was corpulent and wore a fabulous sarong tied into a knot in the front, along with reed sandals and his hair tied up into a chignon on top of their head. Tattoos wrapped around their torso, with geometric designs different from Raxri''s or Akazha''s.
Raxri stopped Sungai, and Akazha helped Tin? get down from the horse. "O, Tin?, my child. You are safe!"
"Yes, yes, baba! I am safe! The witch has helped me!" Tin? ran into his father''s arms, who carried him high and then hugged him.
"O, Akazha, friend witch. I thank you most highly. Most most highly. How can I ever repay you!"
Akazha waved their hand. "None is needed. To see a child safe is repayment enough. However, I must warn you to be careful of going out even at zenith, nowadays. Bandits, pirates, and marauders now swarm and infest the Utter Islands. A symptom of this broken world."
"Of course, of course. The chief will no doubt be awaiting you. Thank you again, friend witch."
"You''re very welcome, Kagon. Stay safe now, Tin?."
Tin? grinned widely and then walked back with their father, presumably to their house, which seemed to be by the seashore as they walked down the road.
"Come. Meat and fish await us, student."
They walked with Sungai until they reached what seemed to be the small village''s marketplace: it was right by the road that led to the seashore. Stalls and blankets with too-fresh fish. Akazha walked up to some of them and exchanged smiles and familiar words. They were varied: one was a corpulent night-skinned woman with kinky hair and a beautiful smile, and another was a young boy who seemed to only be filling in for their father or mother who should be selling. Yet another was a thin woman with a wide-brimmed hat on their back kept to them by a string that hung from their neck. A large carabao behind them dozed, from which various leaf sheaves hung. A stall with multiple sizes of shrimp and crabs, bound by rope, half-alive. Preserving freshness.
Akazha paid for everything they were buying with these incense sticks, which had a peculiar, purplish paste on them. "What are those, master?" asked Raxri.
"Ah, student. These be joss," she said as she lifted a few up. "These are incense sticks specifically coated with a paste made from Vaizzanblood, crafted from Dang Hwan Vaizzan himself. The God of Wealth, Merchants, and Mercenaries."
"I see. And joss is the currency, here? How interesting that it is incense sticks that one trades, and not coin?"
"Primarily when trading with settlements that participate in the Monsoon Market, they prefer joss sticks to coin, as joss can also be used to pay gods. Even the gods participate in the market! But cash and coin are plenty common, especially in the grand societies of Shen and the kingdoms of Selorong and Wo, where within the islands they have a coin minted by ancient kings."
As Akazha set about to taking care of the purchases, Raxri watched the shoreline. Tannum Village had no dedicated dock area besides a few simple wooden platforms. And yet the shore was lined with caulked-wood outrigger canoes, wide and capable of carrying large amounts of produce and materiel up and down the rivers. Many of them parked their ships on the beach, and many more placed them underneath their stilt houses, which served as a garage or holding bay. The fishermen''s stilt houses stretched up the shoreline and into the river. At this time of day, they were resting within their homes, away from the zenith sun. Not just the stilt houses but also the outrigger canoes. Raxri could see that up the river, there were larger barges, some of which had a secondary deck. The largest one had three decks, one no doubt for fighting from when raiding and marauding, and they had double outriggers instead of just one.
It is customary, due to the relatively equal length of days and nights in the Utter Islands as well their hot and humid climate, that work be done during the early mornings and late afternoons, when the sun would not be so high up, beaming its blasted rays upon the populace. Therefore, all pains were taken to work when the sun would not be intense or even during the nights when the Whole Moon shone upon the darkened earth. However, light sources such as torches and whatnot were not enough to ward off Night''s Dark Creatures. Such was the tradeoff for the safeguarding violence of the Sun.
Here in the village of Tannum, the people walked to and fro without much care. They could sustain themselves with their fishing and farming and worried not about the greater troubles of the world abroad. This made Raxri all the more anxious for them now that the consequences of the Invincible Blade Princess reached even them. Such a placid place of idyll, undeserving of the wars of the outside, of those who sat on thrones and spoke safely within the confines of war rooms.
The men and women mingled and laughed at each other. Groups of young children, no doubt the various progenies of the various neighbors, running about, playing with wooden tops and with pick-up sticks, jumping over rubber garters, or tossing rocks at stone jars. The palm tree swayed in the breeze. The rhapsody of ticks from the leaves swaying and clapping in the gale. The lullaby of the sea''s waves crashing upon the sandy shore, striking then receding, striking then receding.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
It didn''t take long before Akazha had filled a rattan bag with fish, a few bags of rice, safflowers, vials of soy sauce and vinegar, salt rocks, and some fresh chicken meat. Raxri carried it all and hitched it onto Sungai''s saddle.
Akazha sighed. "We must needs eat the chicken meat posthaste, lest it spoil. Perhaps I should get a few of my own chickens. Come, student. Let me introduce you to Tannum Village''s chief."
Within the thirty foot long wooden longhouse, which stood upon hearty wooden pillars, was the chief. He sat on a silk pillow, with a back adorned by weapons and golds. Wrapped into a knot in front of him was an azure sarong, with a larger saffron belt knotted into a giant ribbon on his back, and he wore no footwear, for no footwear would service them well in the midst of the seas. His headwrap (with two points like a spiralling horn on one side) was bright scarlet. They were cleanshaven; their hair was a twine of gray that fell to his waist.
Impossible to ignore, however, was the chief''s rugged, sinewy and shredded torso, his body bulging with the sleek striatons of a swimmer-swordmaster. And truly, held on a vertical swordstand was a giant pirate''s blade, housed in a rectangular lacquered wood sheath, of the same caulked wood as the very barges they sailed.
He sat in a lotus position, foot over foot, and had their arms folded in front of them. Their eyes were closed. One would assume that they were in meditation, if it were not for the meekly lady wrapped in light silks in front of him. The lady had the ears of a cat on top of their head, twitching as she spoke.
"Your ancestors have spoken, Chief Kinza. The winds will not be amiable for the next moon. The wind gods wage war with the stones of Dubawatan Reef of north Pemi."
Chief Kinza exhaled a long exhale. "Very well. I thank the ancestors for always watching over us, and thank thee for thine expertise, Shaman Tif."
Shaman Tif bowed deeply, and then walked backwards. They moved and twisted in a way to make sure that they never faced away from the Chief until they were by the door. Then, they bowed again and exited.
"Next?" The voice that echoed was not of the Chief''s, but of the severe man beside him, this one clad in that same sarong. Instead of being barechested he wore an ironwood breastplate, lacquered and caulked, as if he were a barge ready to strike. On top of that he wore a black peaked leather helmet. "Step forward."
Akazha walked forward, and Raxri followed her. She removed her hat and produced rice balls wrapped in intricate banana leaf squares, flowers, and a bundle of joss sticks.
"O, great Chief Kinza. Take your servant''s offering, and grant them your hallowed audience."
Kinza laughed, and his smile was that of a grandfather''s. "Oh spare me, friend witch. Lay the offerings down and state thy wish." With another nod, Chief Kinza called over a servant. A womanservant wearing nothing but a long tube skirt with complex geometric design that reached her waist stepped forward. Her tube skirt was much longer than she was; it was pleated into many folds and laid to the side, creating an interesting silhouette. The womanservant was possessed of a natural beauty, besides. Her deep brown skin made her seem as if she was born of the earth, her eyes the color of ambers. Her face was wide and round, moon-shaped. The signal of beauty in these isles.
The crier of the chief, that man in the peaked helmet and breastplate, watched the woman carefully, vigilantly. Not in a creepy way, but in a "be careful" way.
The womanservant brought with them a large box ornamented with pearls and corals. She opened it and offered their guests betel nut quids. Bowing, Raxri and Akazha took one each, and began chewing. They spat at random intervals at a nearby clay pot as they spoke.
"See? That''s what I like so much about you, Chief Kinza. Straight to the point!" Akazha laughed as well. "Fare you well as of late?"
"Well enough," said Kinza, nodding. "As thou hast already seen, we''re on the process of embarking."
"For what reason?"
Kinza sighed and spat out a curse. "Blasted Pirates seized one of our shipment boats as it was preparing to ride for Kisisik. We''ve found where they make base: a cave out at sea." Chief Kinza sighed. "However, it seems we''re not to grant them the proper hand of vengeance just yet."
"The sea wind gods be the most fickle of the windly gods," said Akazha, nodding. She spat out a red globule that stained her mouth red. "I can only grant my condolences."
"It is well enough. We might dispatch an overland brigade instead."
"And yet bandits now ravage the overland routes."
"Aye." Another deep sigh. Chief Kinza was a tired man. "That is the far-and-short of it. Security does not claim us as of late. We truly are in the times of end."
"The Age of Furor, some might say," said Akazha, somewhat cheekily, reveling a bit in the dark humor.
The Chief looked less than pleased. "How about the friend witch, how fare thee?"
"Oh, I go through the same old. Here I am, beautiful still." The Chief laughed. "But I did pick up a new doe." She gestured to Raxri. "Witness, my student. Raxri Uttara."
Kinza leaned forward, placed a hand on his chin, witnessing, observing. "Raxri Uttara... ha! What a surprise. I''ve never thought the friend witch would have ever taken any for a student. Find thyself lucky, Raxri Uttara. A great witch guides thy steps in the mystical traditions of the elders."
Raxri bowed. Kinza gestured that Raxri may speak. In truth, Raxri did not know they needed permission to speak, but they played it off well: "I have full confidence," they said. "The witch Akazha has been well efficacious at teaching this one."
Chief Kinza laughed again. "Ha! Thou hast managed to wrangle one, eh?" He turned to Akazha. "Perhaps you''ll be able to achieve wizardhood yet."
"Who knows? But for now, my duty is to guide this one." Akazha tapped her chin with her finger. "Say, great chief. Perhaps, the honorable one would have some sort of knowledge of the Vault of Souls?"
Chief Kinza narrowed his eyes, though eventually did shake his head. "Nay, other than it is a shrine to the Hell-King of sorts, within Pemi''s island. And that the dead are dumped within its pit to bless the Hell-King."
Akazha nodded. "Yes, well, you see... Raxri here awoke within it. The Vault of Souls... though I knew it to be there, I thought it to be nothing but a shrine for recollection and memory. Now I know it has some other function. I seek to know it."
"Ah," Chief Kinza shrugged. "Thou wilt have a better chance at doing such a thing by going to the Grand Library in the University City of Timbangan, upon Nilatpa. If not there, then perhaps those monasteries in Daruma Town in Southern Wadzara might have answers, if not from writings then from the scholars and monks that reside there."
"Fie, this one will have to journey yet." Akazha tsked. "Ah, well. Life is life. I wish the great chief well. That will be all for now."
"Hast thou shopped the markets?" asked Chief Kinza. Akazha replied that they did. "Good. Here, recalleth I that thou seekest for cigarettes? Traded I with a grand merchant prince from the Charnel Isles. Rememberest thou? That land of dense jungles lying low and sleeping into fens and marsh and then grasslands? From the hundred kingdoms of the Pasa Hyam arise these flowers and grasses ground together by their alchemists and wizards. Try them, they grant thee true repose. The gods within are gods of sleep and succor."
Chief Kinza snapped his fingers, and a different servant walked over with an ornate box decorated with engravings of wooden petals. This one was a beautiful young man instead, skin ruddy, the color of sunset. Hair tied up into a bun, arms bound with golden bracelets and armlets.
The chest, when opened, revealed a pile of crushed lavender-colored petals, soft and dried. "The people in that settlement called these gloamblooms. These flowers dance with the gods of respite."
Akazha grinned. "Ah, the great chief always knows what their servant witch likes." She took forward and received the gift graciously, while bowing. "In truth, this servant has not been able to procure any tobacco or any other smokeable herbs for a few moons now. This is truly a great reward."
"The friend witch hath been of much help for the longest time. I can only repay for what thou hast done."
With another bow, they were off. As they stepped off of the longhouses ladder, they spat the rest of the quid onto the soil before them.
[1.10] And In This Shall Arise Divinity
The secret to fighting is to hit first and hit hard, then don''t get hit!" Meditations of the Drunken Chanter of the Black Lotus Teahouse
Akazha trotted back happily, pulling a somewhat annoyed Sungai. She had in two hands the ornate box of gloambloom.
Raxri smiled, though with a questioning eyebrow raised. "What joy has taken the teacher?"
"Ah, Raxri. I''ve been looking for something to smoke for quite some time now. I will teach you how to do so. Some specific herbs are conducive even to magick and enlightenment."
When it came to the talk of learning new things, excitement ticked at Raxri''s heart.
As they trounced back up the path, heading back up the way they came, traveling up the road once again, a gruff yet nasally voice slashed through the din. "O, well if it isn''t the mangy witch bitch!"
Akazha''s joyful trounce stopped, suddenly. A scowl overcame her, a shadow struck her face.
Before them was a lanky man, hair light brown with a gruff patchy face. They wore nothing but a tunic and short sarouels, and brandished two bamboo spears. Their face had the quality of a haughty layabout, and their lanky muscleless frame no doubt added to this. Though he moved as if he were intoxicated, he had none of the slurring, and none of the smell. "Mighty brave of ye to step foot in this town again, after I''ve told ye that your kind ain''t welcome ''ere!"
Raxri, eyebrows furrowed, stepped forward in front of her. They placed themself in between the man and Akazha. "Quarrel you with the witch?" All around them, people moved away, though watched with dreadful curiosity.
The main tilted his head to the side. "O? And who''s this? A bodyguard? Even if you''ve an army you''ll not be safe from the justice of the Scarlet God!"
"Ignore him, Raxri," said Akazha, attempting to walk past him. "Ngura is a zealot of the Scarlet God, who sees my magick as harmful and self-absorbed. Himself he sees as the karmic manifestation of my sin. A layabout in truth. He''s not one to do much harm."
Ngura spat a laugh, mocking. "Nay. The witch will be skewered yet! Boys!"
Men and women stepped out from behind the shadows, houses, bushes, and tree trunks. The main identifying factor were their straw raincapes, which all of them wore. The same clan of bandits from before. "Get the witch!"
The whipping sound of arrows being launched from bows rang out, ripping through the air. Akazha scowled. "Raxri!"
I will not fail this time. Raxri nodded and took off, wind-quick.
Akazha stepped up and uttered a spell, performed the magick signs. Then she chanted: "Let all things wend and fade into tide! LI DENG!" A mystic symbol engraved itself into the air before her, which then faded and turned into a bubble of water enveloped both her and Raxri. The two arrows sank into her water bubble.
With another magic sign, she manipulated the water. It cascaded, falling, shivered, then froze into sickles of ice. "Woe chiller than coldest steel! GING GING!" Another mystic symbol this one the deep blue color of untouched ice. Akazha sent the ice sickles spinning against the charging bandits, cutting their chests and thighs. It was indiscriminate: those with longknives and those with lances and those with bows were struck all the same.
Raxri, on the other hand, was eager to prove themself.
Raxri dashed around Ngura, and approached close to the bow-bandits.
Ngura did not even move, as if afraid to do so.
The bow-bandits did not have the time to nock another arrow. Instead, they used their very bows as staffs, and exchanged blows with Raxri as they laid upon them. Fists against staves, Raxri expertly wove defenses, raising their feet and parrying away the wild swings of the longbows.
Eventually Raxri overcame one of the bow-bandits, successfully chopping their neck with Bladed Hand--though they didn''t cut deep--and then using Devastating Red Hand to knock that bandit back into the other bandit with a force that sent the other one into unconsciousness.
A new arrow whizzed towards Raxri. They dodged by corkscrewing backwards, their movements guided by the hand of muscle memory.
Right then, that muscle memory carried the Once-Dead. Bandit bowmen had come out onto the roofs of nearby houses, and had begun firing arrows. Amidst the rain of missiles, Raxri dove behind bushes, fences, trees, and boulders as cover. An arrow grazed them yet by their bicep, and another on their abdomen.
Akazha on the other hand dodged the rain of missiles by inhaling, moving their hands in a spiral motion as if to let her breath flow through her body, and then leaping up onto the roofs themselves, as if carried by wind or wire.
She stepped onto the very arrows that flew overhead, landed soundlessly on the roof, and then dashed toward the closest bowman. The witch unleashed her own palm-fist-foot flurry. Kicks and punches and hand taps that incapacitated the two bowmen before they could even put away their bows and draw their own longswords.
Ngura appeared below, seeing Raxri ducking behind cover. They brandished their lances and unleahsed an onslaugh tof blows at Raxri. The cloud-haired warrior stumbled backwards, desperately avoiding thrusts from the two lances, who spat as he yelled condescension.
Ngura over-extended one lance in his wrath. Raxri, still in their battle meditation, kicked it away, closed in, slammed their shoulder straight into Ngura''s gut, swept his feet and snatched the other lance away. Using that lance--instinctively, as Raxri had no knowledge of wielding the lance--they pierced down on the lance Ngura held on to even as he slammed onto the dirt road. When Ngura saw the incoming blade, he very quickly let go of the other lance, and dove to the side.
The would-be bandit floundered. Scrambling for a weapon, they found a stray longknife. He swung it widely at Raxri, cutting Raxri''s stolen lance all the while. Raxri tossed away the lance and employed the Whorl Guard to parry the three, four, five next slashes of Ngura. Perfect deflections, each one.
A furious exchange ensued then, fist against longknife. Raxri was martially superior, however, swatting aside the blade of Ngura''s longknife every time it got too close. Fatigue gripped Ngura eventually; Raxri took the opportunity. Employing the Bladed Hand, they sliced Ngura''s sword hand, forcing them to scream and let go of the longknife.
Ngura scrambled backwards, waving his hands.
"Yield! Yield! Please!"
Raxri stopped.
Akazha flittered down again, stepping lightly on passing by flies before they stood beside Ngura. "Have you enough, Ngura?"
"Spit on your tits, witch!"
"That''s not very nice." Akazha raised her hand and a second shadow hand intertwined with it, transforming that hand into a clawed and taloned demon hand. "Though It''s good that you concede me to be well endowed." Akazha raised her demon hand, and Raxri would''ve shot out to stop the hand (it looked like it would do great damage!) but instead she slapped that demon hand upon Ngura''s brow. With a mumbled spell, Ngura fell to the ground, asleep.
Akazha flicked her hand and the shadowed claw dissipated. With a sigh, she turned to the other villagers and waved her hands. "All done and dusted here, folks. Please, do tend to Ngura."
A comely and stocky woman emerged from the crowd that had formed. She was shorter than both Raxri and Akazha. The woman looked saddened and tired.
Akazha''s face softened and she said: "Ah, Aunt Ayu, forgive me for having to deal with your husband in such a manner."
Aunt Ayu shrugged. "It cannot be helped. I apologize for the inconvenience. It is good you''ve a bodyguard now with you to deal with people like my husband. A sage is to come soon. Perhaps the sage can give him a bit more lesson in living in a community. And perhaps he will come to see that you are no demon witch!"
Akazha smiled and bowed, hands folded in front of her heart. "I can only wish for that as well." She turned to Raxri and signaled that it was time for them to leave. They did so, eventually riding upon Sungai, and making their way back to the Akazha''s Hut.
Witch Hut
"It is saddening to know such bigotry exists yet," remarked Raxri as they disembarked from Sungai, and carried the provisions they had bought to the kitchen.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
"Let it not be surprising. All worlds will have such divisions. That is the truth of Wandering. Only when all are Buddha can such divisions cease. No utopia exists nor shall exist."
Raxri put down the rattan bag, and Akazha walked in, removing her robe and hanging it upon one of the poles that stood up from the cottage''s roof. She sat down and laid back on the living room table, and opened the ornate box housing the gloambloom.
"Come, student," called Akazha. Raxri did so, kneeling next to their master. Akazha brought out a clay jar, and scooped out some poultice with her fingers. "You are wounded." They dabbed it upon Raxri''s two wounds.
"Though my memory be gone, I know deep in my bones that every instance of violence I must engage in I must be comfortable in the truth that I will be struck myself."
"Clever, my student. You do know that every violence begets violence. That every attack dealeth damage not just to the defender, but to the attacker as well."
Raxri nodded. Then, after Akazha was done setting the poultice, they walked to sit on the opposite side of the table. With their lips pursed together in thought, Raxri asked: "Is there no recourse? Must we just weather such bigoted ignorance?"
"Aye," said Akazha. "Some people you cannot change, so set they are in their ways. Some faiths lead to leaden ends, weighing down the Consciousness. That is what we get in the face of free-will. It is more virtuous to live harmoniously with each other, but many do not wish to do such a thing. O, anything but helping someone else than theirself!"
"Master, why do they wish this? Why can they not look past themselves?"
"Remember, student, that all beings are created of everything around them. If this world is inherently dangerous and uneven, then we will become as such. Even a great society must concede some shadows. Additionally, some knowledges are ignorance, remember well that, student. In the end, the cloud of delusion traps people in suffering. This is because they believe that the things they fight for, the things they believe in, are real in a way that matters. This is not so. All things are empty, arising as an effect of multiple other causes. There is no inherent essence in anything! No inherent nature in anything. Remember this, and Awakening will be near at hand for you."
"I see. In truth this be a heady postulation. Difficult to grasp."
"That is the purpose of practice, training, prayer, meditation." Akazha pulled out a short pipe, a little longer than her hand, with what looked like a dragon winding about it, the dragons'' mouth eventually becoming the pipe''s chamber. Using a thin spoon, she put two small scoops of the crushed gloambloom into the pipe''s chamber, and then lit it with a snap of her finger, summoning a wick of flame on her fingertip. She took a long drag, then spat out the smoke, which wafted and twisted as if it were a dragon alive. The smoke itself was even a hazy purple. "Ah, sweet relaxation. I should ask Uncle Jikajika if they can cultivate these in the garden."
Raxri walked over and sat before her. Akazha produced another pipe--this one decorated with blossoming black lotuses--and gave it to Raxri. "Take it. It will help upon your path."
"What help do these grant?" asked Raxri, as they took the pipe, which already had gloambloom on the chamber.
"Gloambloom, and most other smoke substances, are medicinal in nature, you see. There are some smoked substances, such as spiritgrass, found near strangler figs, which when smoked can even magickally heal wounds, though they be rare, and can induce a terrible addiction. Only Arhats and those near-Buddha can truly benefit from spiritgrass as well. As smoked spiritgrass relieves mental suffering, so does it relieve physical, if one is cognizant of the nonduality of physical and mental states.
"Some can help on the path of Awakening. Some can help relax the mind for meditation. More importantly, others, such as gnosis poppies, can help break down the clouds of delusion and the barriers that these delusions have created around the Uncreated Mind. Though only great Mystics, Hermits, Sages, and scholars that have truly studied the truth of the world can benefit from it without breaking down from the mind smashing realization of the truth of the world."
Raxri stared at the pipe. Akazha puffed out another lazy waft of smoke, which hung a bit before climbing up the balustrades and then through the bamboo slats of the second level.
"Master, would you think that I can retrieve my memories with such substances?"
Akazha shrugged. "It is possible, but it is a delicate balancing act to use such substances without abusing them."
"How does one use them without abusing them?"
Akazha smiled. "Well first... kill God."
Raxri laughed. "Ah, how difficult this state must be!"
"If this stresses thee, then take a drag. Too much thinking is a symptom of too much delusion: thoughts must be like swords. Cutting, ever-sharp, and directed. That is the sword-stroke perfection of Mindfulness."
All of this was getting too heady for Raxri, so they took a puffed the pipe. Small at first, forcing them to cough. The second time was a cleaner pull. When they exhaled, the smoke was continous and long, like a dragon erupting from their chest. The smoke was also a hazy lavender, wafting lazily, a veil.
Raxri felt their head lighten, but their chest became heavy. They laid back and relaxed. After all this time, only now did they feel truly relaxed. The terrible anxiety of having no memories eased, soothed, loosened. Suddenly, it was easier to just think about that moment, and then the next moment. As Raxri thought, they realized rather quickly that every moment was now: there was no next moment nor was there a past moment. All moments were happening now.
They looked at Akazha, who was writing something down on palm leaf with a circular motions. She glanced up, and then said, returning to writing: "You''ve been strung up all this time. Your mind is severely chained, broken. The pipe seemed to work wonders: you look so tired."
"Yet only now did I realize."
Akazha wrote slower. "Yet your body persists. That part of you that chooses not to pass, that part of you that decides there is something to do, yet. Your Mindstream refusing to take flight into the next life. It clings on not because of fear, not because of desire, not because of thirst... but because of duty, of Law, of requirement. How interesting... an obsession that does not hinder enlightenment, but might very well be the one thing that leads you to it."
"You talk to yourself, now," said Raxri. "The master be so humorous when she does that, speaking to herself. As if me and the gods are not here to witness."
Akazha smiled demurely. "Ah, you observe your master overmuch."
"Is that not my duty, as a student?"
Akazha rolled her eyes and then kept writing.
They lazed about for a few more movements. Eventually, Akazha had to get up to light the torches, and to activate her lotus-lights. As she walked, she asked: "Are you hungry?"
"Somewhat." Raxri''s pipe burned low, the smoke almost dissipating now. They took lighter and shorter drags to prolong it. Only a matter of seconds and Raxri was already a well-versed smoker.
"There''s some dried fish, tomatoes, soy sauce, and taro I''ve readied."
Raxri grinned widely. "I would greatly appreciate this, master."
"Do not get used to it, however." With a chuckle, Akazha walked to the kitchen annex. They returned with two porcelain plates with sun-dried fish, tomato slices, taro, and a platelet of soy sauce. She placed it first in front of Raxri, and then in front of herself.
Raxri folded their hands and bowed in thanks, and Akazha waved her hands. Raxri offered the pipe back, now that the crushed gloamblooms were almost nothing but little pieces of almost-ash. Akazha took it back and placed it inside a cloth, wrapped it, tied it with a hemp string, and then gave it to Raxri. "It''s your responsibility now. Clean it, and take care of it."
"Thank you, master."
"Now eat."
And so they ate. The salty taste was nigh perfect. Combined with the starchiness of the taro, which balanced out the extreme saltiness of sun-dried fish with soy sauce, it made for a filling meal.
When they finished, Raxri asked: "Master, I would like to ask."
"Ask away."
"That technique you performed back in Tannum Village, the one where you leapt into the air as if you were carried by wind and wire... pray, inform me what art allows such things?"
Akazha smiled. She reached over and patted Raxri''s head. "Ever the observant student," she said. "It is good that you noticed. We will be learning that tomorrow. The Light Body Technique."
The next day, it rained. Not the prime conditions for training. But the master and student trained still.
The rain was no torrent; it was a steady downpour yet. A god doing its job, not angry but perseverant. Raxri and Akazha had to retreat from the streamside due to it rising and flooding its banks. They trained under the boughs of the giant mahogany, whose leaves were titanic, providing ample shade for two adults.
This rain was a cold rain, not a sticky, humid hot rain. A chill skewered through them. Parts and pieces of raindrops fell upon the two of them, though they were more or less dry under the boughs of the mahogany.
"The rain be benign," said Akazha, as she stretched. She had on a simple chest wrap and long sarouel pants, both undyed and light brown in color. Her outfit revealed much of the extent of her talismanic tattoos, running down even to her thighs and pelvis. From a certain point of view, they looked like facsimiles of crocodiles and centipedes, with magick spells in a writing Raxri could not read running down them. "Thank the gods it''s no storm. Spirits know the monsoons be fickle here, near the End of the World."
Raxri turned. They also had on a simple get up: the monk garb they had taken, with the sarong and the chest wrap. They turned and bowed with hands folded in front of their mouth to Akazha, in respect.
"Now, to the basics of the Light Body." Akazha stretched. "The Light Body Technique was said to be cultivated by ancient sages, who also accumulated and formed the Hot Body Technique, which they used to keep their bodies warm at night and when they would travel to the freezing realms of the high mountains, where higher gods dwell. Martial artists don''t generally practice the Hot Body, but the Light Body Technique is almost ubiquitous in the Martial Forest Tradition. In battle, supreme movement and quickness is essential."
Akazha exhaled, moved her hands around in wide, circular motions, and then leapt to the air, twisting and corkscrewing until she softly stepped upon a low-lying branch. She balanced perfectly upon it, bobbed up and down slightly. "Mastering the Light Body Technique is crucial for avoiding attacks, for fleeing, and for mastering the battlefield. However, there is a drawback: wearing armor will dampen the Light Body Technique unless you have advanced to the Iron Lightness Stage of the Light Body Technique, which is about..." Akazha counted her finger. "The fourth stage of the Light Body, and attaining that level is no easy feat."
Raxri looked down upon themself. They figured by then that they hadn''t seen anyone wearing heavily clad armor, no plates nor chains nor heavy leathers and hides. Truly, those kinds of armors in a hot and humid clime such as this? It would kill the wearer. Raxri put aside a lingering thought about how full armors would look like in a place such as the Utter Islands.
"Will that be to my detriment?"
Akazha shrugged. "It is dependent upon your path! But warlords, strategians and commanders one and all master the Light Body Technique all the same, so that they may outmaneuver those lesser than them. Of course, thinking there are those lesser than them forces them to not realize full mastery of the Light Body Technique."
"How do I accomplish such a feat?"
Akazha tilted her head to the side, pressing her lips together. "In truth, that you already know much mastery in the ways of the Whorl Hand, it would be less difficult for you. If I were a better master, I would have begun your training in the Light Body first, as the Light Body is an easy art to get you started on the foundations of harnessing Sapi and Nihawa. However, the Meditation and Concentration you have been able to build to channel the Whorl Hand Art has given you a powerful foundation enough. I am surprised at it, in truth. Perhaps, in your past, you were a mystic of great power and meditational prowess." She stepped off of the branch and floated down. "Now, breathe. Control your inhalation and exhalation. Meditate upon it, focus upon it. Feel the flow of your Nihawa through your five Chakras." [1.11] Now On To Forsaken Feelings
Oh wow, those are some truly salient points drunken one. I thank you for giving weight to nothing." Meditations of the Listener to the Drunken Chanter
Raxri did so, clearing their mind and focusing only upon their breathing. Their slow inhale and exhale cadence. It really did come easily to them: Raxri became over-aware of the movements of their Nihawa, of the flow rushing through them. The way their breaths slowed or quickened depending on how they wished it to move, the way their breath hitched sometimes, or the way that a budding need to cough arose, or the way some breaths were cold while others hot, or the way they felt wetness when they inhaled due to the dripping rain.
Then, there! The first few embers of their Sapi, stoked by their Concentration. They reached out to it and immediately felt their entire body shudder.
Still with eyes closed, Raxri said: "Master, teach me. What is the Sapi?"
"That''s a complicated subject to dive into," replied Akazha. "It is the very thing that penetrates us all, that binds all us sentient beings to each other and to the universe. Everything that arises conditionally has Sapi. The Fires of Samsara. Some believe even that there Sapi is a consequent of Karma. You know how they explain rebirth?"
Raxri shook their head.
"Imagine a candle lighting another candle. Is it the same flame?"
Raxri blinked. Shook their head.
"Right. It is not. But in some ways, for a moment, it is! This what a Mindstream is. The karmic fruits of a sentient being ''lighting'' the flame of their next reincarnation. Ah, and you must be mindful. Sapi is not literally a flame. It is a ''fire'' because of how it resembles the nature of flame. How it resembles the nature of the candle lighting a candle. Nothing more."
Akazha pointed at Raxri''s groin. Raxri blinked thrice.
"There are five nodes within your body where the Nihawa flows through. These are known as your chakras. Energy wheels. As Winds flow through them, they are spun and generate energy for you. Misalignment of chakras, blockages of chakras... these cause semi-material diseases and problems. Things that modern medicine cannot solve. Remember it thus: the five Chakras are your Secret Chakra, your Abdominal Chakra, your Heart Chakra, your Throat Chakra, and your Crown Chakra.
"With proper meditation, you can feel and control the flow of your Nihawa, make them flow cleanly through your chakras, keeping you whole and hale. Your Nihawa must flow to properly activate parts of your body, allowing physical feats nigh miraculous."
"I see. So with proper meditation I can control it?"
"Yes. And now you do just that, by focusing and contemplating on your breathing. As I''ve said, it comes natural to you. Truly, the meditationist''s mind erupts from you. All the more interesting." Akazha bit her lip. "The past may haunt you, but it has granted you exceptional tools to face your challenges in the future. As if it anticipated this."
Raxri''s thoughts began to wander into what other things their past might be hiding, but they caught it with their mind. No greater adversary but the mind. Raxri cast aside their thoughts, banishing it with a snarl, then returned to their breathing, returning to their contemplation.
Akazha continued. "Good, very good. Now that your breathing has come to you, and that you control it, send that breathing down to your feet. Let your Nihawa flow through your chakras and reach your feet."
Raxri did so. Every breath being sent to their base, to their feet, channeling all their Inner Power to their very soles. They felt themselves lighten, though not just physically but also mentally. Someone with lesser meditation could very well become too light-headed and vomit and perhaps even pass out.
But Raxri held on.
Akazha turned and pointed up at the hanging branch. "Now leap, my student! Ho ho ho! Your Nihawa flurries!" The laugh was a hearty laugh, half mocking laugh, half "arise my creation!" sort of laugh. Raxri didn''t think about it, their meditation was steel.
Raxri shot off the ground with the sudden weight of a hot-air balloon. When most humans leap, they summarily touch the ground in short order. However, when Raxri leaped, they floated, as if carried by gods, and with the winds swirling about them, they soared, moving up and up, until they were at the same height as the branch. Their feet lightly touched the branch and they stepped. With the winds still coursing through them, they felt their body become as light as a feather. Upon the branch, they balanced. No branch could have carried all of Raxri''s weight, but there they be. Their Light Body Technique consolidated, settling at the bottom of Raxri''s belly.
"By the gods...!" Raxri''s grinned so hard that it seemed like their hair and clothes lit up and stood up on end as well.
"Stellar work, my charge. That is the basic way of the Light Body." Akazha also leapt up, onto a branch beside Raxri, and then she sat. "Many of the masters of the Light Body have even eschewed the use of horses for short-distance travel, for they can use their feather-weight body to leap great distances and much faster so than usual mounts. Now, come."
The rain continued, but Akazha walked out into it, towards the flooding stream. It was fortuitous then that they did not choose to wear footwear at that moment. Akazha beckoned for Raxri to follow them, and Raxri followed suit, leaping down and landing relatively unharmed (they had anticipated a massive shock to their ankles and feet, which never came). Though they did not float down like Akazha did, they still descended at a slower rate, much like how a feather would descend upon the earth.
They were wet by the rain. Akazha''s clothes matted to her skin, but they were light cloths, so it didn''t hamper them overmuch. Akazha''s hair was drenched, stuck to the sides of her face. She pushed it back, revealing a massive forehead that Raxri had never seen before. "Whoa, master."
Akazha stopped, turned to Raxri as she smoothed her hair back, pulling it away from her face. "What''s the matter? Enchanted, are you?"
"I''ve never seen a forehead so big before!" Akazha''s foot struck straight into Raxri''s solar plexus, and Raxri doubled over, wheezing. Half with laughter, half with regret and genuine pain.
Overhead, the trees stood resolute, glinting a bright light as light sunlight peeked from the dark clouds, dappling the very raindrops that fell like tears. In this half-rain half-sun, the colors of nature seemed to be brighter, stronger. The green was greener, the blue of the stream was brighter blue, the gray of the stone and the white of the boulder near the source of the stream were grayer and whiter still.
"Now, student," said Akazha, with a bit of a snarl still in their voice. "Follow me." She leapt, crossing the flooded stream, and then stood atop the rushing waters (which rushed because of the rain). She stood like a flamingo, with one foot lightly touching the rushing water and another foot folded, placed beside the straight leg''s knee.
Raxri tried to catch their breath, but it took considerable effort. They couldn''t help but laugh: Akazha knew what they were doing by kicking them right where the strike would''ve impeded the flow of Nihawa.
"What ails you, student?" There was a certain offended tone to her voice, still. A venomous edge.
Raxri laughed again. "My Inner Winds have been knocked out of me!"
"Perhaps you will take care not to speak of my forehead again!"Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
"Forgive me, forgive me. I did not realize what I was saying until it was too late!"
Akazha stared longer, then slowly began to laugh as well. She waited patiently for her student, and eventually Raxri managed to enter Contemplation again, focusing on their breathing. With bated breath, and with a certain expectant stare, Akazha waited.
Raxri inhaled, exhaled, then bound with one foot. A single step turned into a leaping bound. Winds flurried through them, their air flapping. When their feet struck the water, they bobbed up and down for a moment, and then the Light Body kept them up. Nihawa concentrated around their feet, allowing them to keep afloat. They stepped lightly upon the waters.
"Good, good job student!" Akazha leapt over and pat Raxri on the head as they were rising up from their crouched position.
Raxri grinned. "Thank you, master. Harnessing my Nihawa affords me freedom I never knew I wished!"
"And I will teach you more yet."
The two of them became drenched in the rain, but it was all good. Raxri, the ever-curious, walked a few steps, and saw that they balanced perfectly upon the rushing, babbling flooded stream. They turned and kicked, and a splash of cleanwater erupted, striking Akazha directly.
Akazha gasped, mostly at the cold, but also at the affront. With play-indignation, Akazha kicked up water as well.
The cold struck Raxri like the kiss of a nether god, and they almost fell over as their muscles spasmed at the sudden chill.
"You see, student: while the Sapi is not something the normal mortal can access, it still exists and has an ambient function. It is expressed as our body regulating our body temperature."
"B-B-Body temperature...?" Raxri shivered as the cold bit their bones.
Akazha held back a smile. She waved her hand: "Come, let us lecture within. The rain will not abate, it seems."
"Very we-oof!" Akazha had stepped forward and Whorl Hand elbowed Raxri. The motion continued into a carry, with Akazha carrying the now much lighter Raxri over her shoulder. Akazha leapt over to the muddy bank, and then bound a few more steps, back up the path and back to her cottage.
Within the cottage, steaming hot rice and tamarind soup had been prepared, along with clay bowls for eating, cleaned pipes, gloambloom on two platelets, hot tea, and betel nut quids in an opened box. "Ah, you''ve returned!" It was Jikajika, taking of his wide-brimmed hat and bowing. "I see training has gone swell."
"Too swell," said Akazha, smiling demurely again. She set Raxri down as if they were a sack of rice. Raxri rolled about on the floor, catching their breath.
Jikajika laughed. "Ah, thou must have said something about her forehead!"
"Silence, uncle," said Akazha. "Lest you wish the demon hordes to take you finally?"
Jikajika just shrugged. "Ah, see thee that my time be near?"
Akazha rolled her eyes. She went up to her room in the second floor to change clothes. Jikajika fluttered over to Raxri and pat their head. "There, there. Witness, a fresh change of clothes awaits thee in thy room. Tarry no longer, and come out for food! Tamarind soup is my specialty, and its ambrosia lingers in its steaming hot heat."
Raxri, shivering, nodded. Thunder crackled overhead. As Raxri went into their room to change their clothes into a fresh and warm brocaded tunic and sarong that wrapped around their waist and only reached the tops of their calves, Raxri felt a relief and coziness unrivaled ever since they''ve left that state of darkness they were in in the Vault of Souls.
Jikajika whistled as another clap of thunder rumbled. "The battle of the winds wage ferocious now. This must be a true grudge."
Raxri stepped out and sat. "Are the gods fighting?"
Jikajika nodded. "Aye. All the time, dear one. Here, in the End of the World, the very tip of Pemi, various storm gods and wind gods fight to establish their sky kingdoms. It makes for very dangerous sailing, and it is why sea sailing is somewhat rare in this section, despite the various islands that pock the waters here. Sky sailing, however, is more common, though that require that you have ancestors and tutelary deities that are friendly with the appropriate wind god to carry you through."
"Why do they set themselves against each other?"
"Well, Raxri. There was a time to be true when the winds were agreeable with another. Then, when a portion of the sky was gashed by the Invincible Blade Princess, a large number of wind gods died, and this caused true imbalances. The winds and storms and zephyrs and gales all fought, and truly keep fighting, over who will inherit who, and who will serve who. This has led to cataclysmic storms. It is especially strong here, as you can see, for the End of the World has ever been the badlands of the skies."
"I see. How sorrowful." Raxri turned and began eating. The sourness of soup was perfect combined with the plainness of the white rice, creating an unbeatable flavor that filled Raxri''s heart. They could not have enough. They ate and ate, though with a certain rhythm. They made sure they ate not too fast so that they would not be able to appreciate the taste and flavor.
Eventually, Akazha came back down, now also freshly dressed. A single tube skirt brought up to her chest, and still yet long enough to have multiple folds on one side. The tube skirt was embellished and embroidered with coiling dragons. Now their hair was yet wet, so a headscarf wrapped it up, revealing again her spacious forehead.
"Student, dare not speak about my forehead again."
Raxri blinked. "Ha? Oh, yes, of course master. Forgive me for having done it."
"Thou art beautiful, even--nay, ESPECIALLY--with thy forehead, Akazha dear!" Jikajika said, with humor mounted upon his words.
"Spare me, uncle." Akazha stepped over and sat, and began eating.
"O, thou art yet far from the path of wizardhood if thou be offended over such trivial, material things!"
"Yes, yes, bite me. Our student here, uncle, has learned the beginnings of the Light Body Technique."
Jikajika hopped up to the table. "O, that be true? If so, then this young being can survive on their own without any other help!"
Raxri nodded, looking up at Jikajika. Akazha bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn''t sure they agreed. Raxri wasn''t sure they agreed either not sure if they agreed, but they nodded anyway. Far be it for them to disagree. The god would know much more than them, a mere human, after all.
Akazha chewed on her foot. She sat with one foot up, her hand resting on her knee. She swallowed and said: "The Light Body Technique is the most common way of doing so when one is a traveler, adventurer, explorer, warrior, or any profession that requires travel through dangerous locales."
Jikajika nodded twice. "Aye. In the grand mountains, manipulating harnessing one''s Sapi is the more common cultivation solely due to the cold. The greater blacksmiths use their Sapi when building a weapon fit for a god to inhabit. Any god will respect a strong Nihawa and Sapi."
Akazha sipped some of the stew, loudly. "Rah! How delicious. Anyhow: within the world you see there are eight primary powers, the things that keep it moving and make up this phenomenal reality. That is, the reality that one experiences and suffers in. These arise from the basal aggregates, which is a spirit science I cannot teach you as of the current moment.
"Remember when I said that every conditional arising contains Sapi? It is Mystic Fire to us, because fire is one of the most dangerous elements. However, every thing has Sapi, and that Sapi often expresses itself as an element. There are six elements: Earth, Water, Fire, Air, Space, and Consciousness.
Many of the natural minerals of the world hold these Elements within their hearts. Topaz holds lightning, an aspect of Fire. A pearl holds the power of water. Rubies hold the power of fire, and so on."
Akazha took a moment to shove a spoonful of rice. Raxri then said, as their master chewed: "Do these elements... exist within us?"
Akazha nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food, and said: "You know how we are prone to sweating? Especially in the heat? That is the element of Water erupting from us."
"Ah... I see. Sweat is of the Element of Water?"
Akazha raised a finger, a proud grin on her face as she closed her eyes. "You''re catching on, student. All the liquids that pour from your body are your Bodily Waters: blood, tears, sweat, urine, and all. While Inner Earth is your flesh and your solid wastes. Your Inner Fire is the connections of your neurons, the electrospasms that move your flesh, as commanded by your Consciousness. All things are in truth made up of these elemental aggregates. Even the elements themselves are aggregates of other things!"
Jikajika chuckled. "You confuse the child, witch. One step at a time, you know?"
Akazha smiled. "Of course. Worry not."
Once they finished their food, they carried their plates to the kitchen, into the rattan bag they used to carry to the stream the dishes. Then, the three of them smoked the gloambloom, filling them with relaxation and rest. Purple smoke wafted lazily about them. The rain had calmed down now, from being a storm. They had to resort to using lotus-lights to be able to illuminate their room, as the torches kept getting doused by the waters.
Before Akazha alighted to their room, they called to Raxri.
"Yes, master?"
"You need not call me master," she said, a soft smile on her lips. "Just Akazha. You''ve exerted yourself too much. Does your bullet wound not hurt?"
Raxri looked down upon it. In truth it continuously pulsated pain still, but the adrenaline of learning new things and advancing kept it down. Not to mention the Healing Pill, the healing-infused foods, and their newfound access to their Nihawa and Sapi being able to strengthen them for the time being. "It does."
"We will take our time in our practice. Usually wounds from arquebus projectiles take a Moon at least to heal. The Healing Pill has doubled that time, but you will need at least 10 days or so to fully recover. We will be training on each day, but you will not be pushing yourself past your limit, nor even bringing yourself to your limit. Understand?"
Raxri nodded. Now that their attention was to their wound, the pain did seem to lance more frequently. It alternated between sudden daggers of pain and numbness. Wincing, Raxri said, "Thank you, Akazha."
"Get plenty of rest. You will need it."
[1.12] Journeys Beginning
"No mud. No lotus. This means: something beautiful is going to happen." Abbot Hiyasarawa explaining the popular adage
Half a month passed. Akazha and Jikajika focused Raxri on practicing their Light Body Technique, so that it came as quickly as breathing. They focused on the meditational awareness of the Nihawa flow. Training days interchanged between honing Whorl Hand Art techniques, Light Body Techniques, and resting. During these days, Raxri got to experiment with cooking, and managed to make a delicious beef stew served with chilis and calamansi.
A few days after that, Akazha began teaching Raxri the application of the Whorl Hand Art to blades. They trained fighting with longknives while they balancing upon bent bamboo. At this point, Raxri''s bullet wound had mostly faded into a dull throb. They could move their arms and legs like normal now, without anything lancing pain weighing them down.
"One thing you must note, dear student," as Akazha and Raxri traded blade blows upon that bamboo, which pliantly and subserviently bent forward for them to fight upon. "Is that in the Adamantine Path of the Infinite Law, we believe in turning everything one does into an act of meditation, as I''ve already told you before. When one allows meditation to penetrates one''s every moment, then one is constantly within that state of mindfulness. And with that state of mindfulness cometh control over one''s body. In the Adamantine Path, this is exacerbated with the powers paranormal. What many call magick is the application of this perpetual meditation."
"How does one attain such meditation, master? This meditation... I thought the meditation I''d attained with the Whorl Hand Art was enough!"
"Through practice, constantly," taught Akazha. "Until one has attained the formless thought, until one understands, just a bit better, the Uncreated Mind which is veiled by a billion reincarnations'' worth of delusion."
Akazha shook her head. "Your meditation ever must guide you, and it will ever be cultivated. That is the truth of meditation. And other techniques require greater ways of meditation. And these meditations are brought about by the strength of one''s Inner Furnace."
Raxri nodded. They traded blows again, faster this time. Raxri''s longknife strikes were just applications of their Whorl Hand learnings, moving in wide circles and slashing strikes, though adjusted to the weight of a longknife. They could move much faster with just their hands, almost like a blitz or a storm. But with the weight of a longknife their movements were more deliberate, blade set upon the target to slash, to cut, to lacerate in the manner of the swordsman.
Akazha on the other hand, was moving with that deliberate, leading movements of a master. Every movement she made led to another that guided Raxri''s strikes, always anticipating ten steps ahead.
"Even now," said Akazha. "Focus your mind. In silence, or upon the babbling creek or waterfall, it is easy to meditate and fall into Contemplation. However, the second easiest place to fall into Contemplation is amidst battle, amidst practice, where one must focus lest one die. Even now, as you fight, you fall into meditation. This meditation eventually shall become as second nature, it shall become the default state of your mind. Then you are one step closer to nirvana."
Unfortunately, Raxri pondered upon that thought, and Akazha found an opening. With a forceful push of her live hand, she struck Raxri''s chest, sending them tumbling backwards, off of the bamboo and onto the stream''s bank. Raxri struck the ground with an "oof!" and stayed there for a few moments, breathing, inhaling, wondering what to do.
Akazha floated down and helped Raxri up. Raxri exhaled and said, "Thank you, master."
"A greater swordstress would not have missed a beat, there. They hear without losing their focus. They catch stray thoughts, or otherwise let it fly, like the birds that they are. They are always here, and here always."
"Why is meditation so important, master?" asked Raxri, coming to a sit. Akazha climbed atop the boulder and sat as well.
From where Raxri sat, they appreciated her shadow-slash beauty. Her hair she had bound up into a thick and tightly tied chignon atop her head, almost all of her hair pulled away from her face, revealing her bare nape (as well as the mantric centipede tattoo that snaked up her spine). Her long knife-shaped ears. Dark circles under her eyes, hair of pitch black, skin pearlescent, eyes the same color of night. As if a daughter of dark and light. Her skin seemed to reveal no pores, a smoothened veil. At that present moment they wore a light sarouel that allowed them to move, and a brocaded silk chest wrap that fully covered her chest. Her body was slender, almost too thin; her flesh soft and supple, not sinewy like Raxri.
She seemed soft, as opposed to Raxri''s dawn hardness. She was night''s daughter and they were dawn''s childe.
Akazha spoke, then: "In my case, as someone wishing to attain wizardhood, meditation is the platform. The foundation from which almost every higher power is attained. Bodily immortality, manipulation of the Powers, the ability to heal, to fly, to float, to create something out of nothing... the deeds of wizards arise from the enlightenment that meditation brings."
"I see. But you are a witch. Do you not brew elixirs and draughts that do such things?"
"I do," said Akazha. "But that does not require meditation. That requires knowledge, and while it can be a helpful tool to Liberation, it is not a path to it."
Raxri grasped then a question they''ve always been meaning to ask: "Why do we need to attain Liberation? Is this required to do?"
Akazha smiled, then shrugged. "You have no need of Liberation. In truth, if you wish to keep suffering in this Whorl, then be my guest. However, you will find that staying in suffering is not noble, nor is it something one would want, once one has experienced it."
"So we wish to be liberated because we wish to cease suffering?"
"In a word, yes," replied Akazha, shifting and stretching.
Raxri looked out at the trees, at the waters, at the rocks. The glistening wet shrubs, the coconut trees, the flowers blossoming out of acacias. The jade vines that hang and swing in the breeze, the bees that zoom overhead, the multicolored birds that sing lillting tones that hearken to lullabies... "But this world is so beautiful. If one can find beauty even in suffering, then does that not make suffering worthwhile?"
Akazha let out a frustrated sound. "I can hardly believe you did not philosophize in your past life! O, great gods spare me, I am bound to a rationalist."
Raxri blinked. They said no more, thoroughly focused on waiting for an answer.
Akazha glanced at Raxri, and then managed a slight smile. "You will find in due time one of the greater realizations. For now, it will make no sense, but you must live and experience more things to understand it thoroughly. The world is beautiful because those are glimpses of Underlying Truth, of Emptiness. It is because Suffering and Liberation are not dichotomous things separate from each other--remember, nothing inherently has a nature--but rather, they are one and the same. Form is emptiness and emptiness is form, as the great Treatise Writer once said."
Raxri blinked again and truly, they understood naught. "The master is exceedingly wise."The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
"Unsheathe your blade, Raxri. Your training endeth not yet." And she leapt from her rock, striking down from it with her blade at Raxri. Raxri scrambled for their own blade and began blocking.
"Teacher, another question, if it pleases you!" They crossed longknives. Akazha twisted her blade to strike, and a gash cut across Raxri''s belly.
"Blades do not cross, student!" yelled Akazha. "If you fight true then do not believe in the theatrics of stage plays, where such things exist."
Wincing, Raxri looked up and focused still. In meditation, one''s wounds can be summarily ignored for a time. "I do not wish to take another life. Why grant me the blade!"
"Even if you wish naught to take another''s life, others are empty of that same gnosis. Therefore, fight with your blade, and incapacitate with greater skill. If you are to be on the path to enlightenment, then you must be better. You must be a King though you be a peasant. It is your mind that will allow you to strike with a blade and kill none!"
More koans of nigh paradoxity. A smarter person would have been paralyzed by logic-seeking on the spot. Not Raxri, though. Raxri was stupid. And so Raxri accepted what their master had said, and met her steel with theirs. Enlightenment will come yet.
After training that day, they took the time to eat food served infused with savory spices and healing herbs. It healed Raxri right up, letting them ignore most of their wounds. Though the larger gash across their chest had been covered with a poultice by Akazha, that would still take a few days to fully heal. The pain from that wound, however, was almost completely gone.
Their food was delicious, as this one was cooked mostly by Jikajika, who had volunteered as a substitute cook while Akazha and Raxri were both busy training everyday. Their current food that day was yet another stew, though this one was made of a mix of deer and wild pork that the both of them had managed to catch the day before. It was cooked deep in vinegar, salt, medicinal herb, and coconut oil, giving it a crispy, almost fried feeling. Served with water spinach drenched in soy sauce, bitter gourd, and white rice balls. It filled Raxri right back up.
Afterwards, they puffed a bit on their smoke to relax both their minds and their muscles. Raxri eased a lot of their anxieties as they did this, their mind coming to that comfortable blank state.
"Oh, yes, Raxri," said Akazha, puffing out purple haze. She gestured to Raxri, who tilted their head, questioning. "Your talismanic tattoo there... there is a small enclave a few ways up Mount Jura that might practice the same tattooing tradition, attuned to the teachings of the Infinite Law. Going there might be fruitful for you, for a time. Not only might they teach you better of what your talismanic tattoo might be, they might even grant you more."
Raxri puffed hazy smoke. "What will they teach me there?"
"The basics of the Law, for example. It is they that have the authority to induct thee upon the Adamantine Path. You must take the Adamantine Vows. Only then will you truly enter the thunderbolt that leads to enlightenment," said Akazha. "And then perhaps, if they find good within you, they will teach you a part of their Thunderbolt Staff martial art!"
Eyebrows furrowed, Raxri asked: "When do we go? I think it would be great to have a change of pace."
Akazha bit her lip and said: "I''m not entirely sure. It might be in a few moons..." Akazha shook her head, a light chuckle again arising from her. "You see, the monks upon Giant Stone Monastery do not take much kindly to me, you see." She mopped her face, not wanting to say the next words. She powered through nevertheless: "I almost made one of their monks break their vows. Though they do not hate me, it is certainly awkward to be around them."
Raxri laughed. "Witch Akazha is ever unpredictable."
Akazha rolled her eyes at Raxri. "Be careful with your mouth, dear student!"
Smiling, Raxri said: "Why not I go there on my own? Do you not think it would be a worthwhile endeavor, especially to apply all that I''ve learned?"
Akazha and Jikajika (who had fluttered to atop the table after taking care of the food) looked at each other. The night heron god shrugged. "The path to Jura Mountain is a straight shot from here, and relatively safe, after all," Jikajika said. "I agree with the young one."
"Well..." Akazha shrugged, letting a bit of her loose robe fall from her shoulder. "Sungai knows the place. I suppose he will be able to bring you there scatheless."
Jikajika waved their wing-hands. "Aye, but think not overmuch. You''ve proven yourself more than capable of handling yourself, is that not correct, Akazha?"
Akazha nodded. "You''ve taken care of those bandits handily enough! And now you know the Light Body, will be able to travel where you need to, even if it be scaling sheer cliff walls. However, that will not be needed. Sungai will be able to guide you."
"And the Giant Stone Monastery is only a day''s worth of travel away," said Jikajika, shrugging. "I''m sure thou knoweth the importance of self-sufficiency!"
Raxri smiled, nodding. "I will do my best. And perhaps I might find a mote of remembrance from there as well."
Akazha nodded, gleaming somehow with pride. "This is another test for you, my lovely student. Let thy will be done."
The next day, Raxri prepared for their travel. They had a sack full of prepared food in vinegar and salt (so that it didn''t go bad immediately) and healing concoctions brewed by Akazha, though they "don''t have the same healing efficacy as a pill, they work all the same for small wounds and for stabilizing larger wounds."
They had given Raxri a fresh set of clothes: a sapphire-colored tunic, a scarlet sarong, hardwood sandals, a turtlewood salakot, and a heavy textile robe decorated with spirals like waves (or perhaps, dragon claws?) tied close to their waist with a gold belt that gave them the impression of a rich traveler. Then, hanging from that gold belt was a wooden scabbard and a longknife, with the carabao horn hilt carved to look like a grinning god.
"There," said Jikajika, after carrying the last of the bags of supplies. "That should be enough!" They stood in front of Akazha''s cottage, upon the dirt path road that led north, deeper into the Pemiwood.
"No doubt," said Akazha, stepping out. She wore the barest minimum now, only a cloth around her waist that led down to her thighs, and a chest wrap. "Take care, my student." She walked up to Raxri and pushed up the clothing on his left arm until it revealed the talismanic tattoo. "Use this in the face of missiles, whether they be arrow or bullet. It will protect you. But it must hit this part, only." Then, she turned around and picked up a necklace from a floating porcelain platelet. Adorning it was a gray orb, impossibly smooth.
"This is a granite talisman." She reached up to give it to Raxri. "You will need it. It will protect you from bodily harm, but it has a limited capacity. Eventually, it will crack, meaning it cannot protect you any longer. However, this talisman can be charged and rebuilt, but you must return here for that."
"I thank you, Akazha."
Akazha pat Raxri''s cheek. "Take great care. My studying of you has only thus begun."
"It be beneficent for the wanderer, Akazha," said Jikajika, who fluttered over to a wooden pole jutting out of the cottage''s front yard, covered in wild weeds and little trees and shrubs. "You cannot teach them everything yet. You are hardly finished with your own path."
"They have a true master there, I know," said Akazha. "A teacher true. Glean all you can from there, then return here. Perhaps once you''ve moved further up Enlightenment''s Stream, I can begin teaching you magick. Only those aware can wield magick without falling immediately into evil."
Jikajika and Akazha led Raxri and Sungai to the nearby border, where a very well-kept spirit house stood upon a hardwood pillar. There, Akazha taught Raxri to give appropriate offering to the plate that was laid on the small plane of wood jutting out from the house. Within the house were around five stone idols in the vague shapes of the gods of the Pemiwood. Five idols, said Akazha, meant that there were five rulers of the Pemiwood''s spiritual societies, for the Pemiwood covered almost the entirety of Pemi itself.
Raxri offered rice grains, lotus flowers, and joss sticks stuck to a little pot. They performed the proper reverence: hands folded, palm-to-palm, they placed their hands on their forehead and bowed, then in front of their lips and bowed, and then finally in front of their heart, and bowed.
"The triple reverences is the safest," said Akazha. "Though no doubt you know, in the majority of the settlements here in the Utter Islands you bow with the Heart Reverence when greeting another person, the Mouth Reverence when greeting someone of higher social status than you, who is higher along the path of enlightenment or whatever profession you follow, or one of the many gods that live in these lands. Then the Crown Reverence is reserved for the Gods, High Gods, Buddha. But if you wish to pay genuine obeisance, perform the three bows."
Raxri nodded, mouth slightly agape at the sudden understanding.
Akazha then walked over to Sungai and kissed their nose. They whispered something, and Sungai shook their head, though seemingly in agreement. Then, slightly smiling, Akazha said: "Sungai will know the way." They looked up at Raxri, their small eyes glistening.
Raxri exhaled and nodded. Deep down, they knew too that this would be the best path forward, that this would no doubt glean greater enlightenment and remembrance for them. And so, with self-cultivation at the forefront of their mind, they mounted Sungai, waved their goodbyes to Akazha and Jikajika, and rode off.
End of Peregrination Arc [1.13] Dance The Celestial Weave
  1. The falling stars spell out destinies once foretold, prophecies now unbidden.
  2. It arrives now, all at once. Sing to us, o Buddha, of the insurmountable celestial chorus. The Infinite Spiral.
  3. This world began when the first Being was reborn in Hell.
  4. This First Hell-Being, after a billion years of torment, was reborn as an Antigod. And though his unskillful karma was purged, his Mindstream was infected with boiling wrath.
  5. The First Hell-Being resolved that if justice were to be served, he must inflict the suffering he has suffered upon the world itself. The First Hell-Being master
  6. ed the arts of war and violence, and then amassed the largest empire known to the Lotus Realm. Spear in hand, the First Hell-Being ravaged the land and plunged it into hell, with armies of screaming ivory chariots and hellmonks riding upon devil tigers.
  7. Hingsajagra was saved only by the arrival of Airotsana, and their army of 80,000 Waking Arhats and 80,000 Divine Mystics. The Demigod¡¯s body was plunged into the sea, and parts of the Firmament fell upon the endless oceans... From Scriptures of Fates Hitherto Unforetold, Volume 1, Chapter 1, Verses 1-7
Adamantine Sword Arc Start
To the sound of swinging bamboos and crowing cocks, they traveled. To the smell of light dew upon morning grass, they traveled. To the feeling of light humidity upon one''s skin, yet infused with the chill of the cold morning air, they traveled. To the taste of light wetness upon one''s tongue, they traveled. To the sight of the morning air sending its spears through the rainforest canopy, they traveled.
On a gentle trot. Not too fast, not too slow. It was understandable: though there be a path already blazed, it was still much too choked by green, the path still too uneven. Unlike the coastal path, which was no doubt well-trodden by travelers true.
Raxri and Sungai moved away from the coast, but they could still feel the gentle sea breeze blowed nonetheless.
Peace permeated their trek through the forest. The forest was dense, as to be expected from a tropical island. The walkable section of it was narrow, no doubt only able to fit two people. Only about two tails wide. They rode across streams and brooks that have split away from the main river. As they rode, Raxri realized that they still hadn''t been able to truly see the main river that cuts through this all.
A few hours of traveling and Sungai slowed his pace. No doubt fatigued from the burst of sudden travel.
"Does the day fatigue you yet, Sungai?" asked Raxri, bending down and brushing his smooth, silky mane. "Let us rest." They stopped beside a small pond, where frogs and fireflies flitted about. They had set out so early that the sun was barely over the horizon when they left. Now the sun was just about at its zenith.
The sun shined its beaming blasted rays upon the world. In the syntax of her gleaming shine she spoke of how she ruled the world and hated the dead.
Thankfully, the pond was roofed by a canopy of vines and giant leaves.
Overhead, the sound of monkeys and cockatoos and hornbills. This place was lively, much lively. Raxri performed another triple obeisance before the pond, and then sat by one of the stones. They brought out a hollowed out and lacquered gourd and drank it until it was empty.
The pond flowed constantly, fed by a small creek and then flowing out into a somewhat larger stream, somewhere down the elevation. Upon it danced little manikin-like creatures. As if molded from white clay, and then little holes pushed in to create the fascimile of eyes. They floated about like feathers, nigh weightless.
Partway instinctively, Raxri pulled out some uncooked rice they''d had readied on their person, wrapped in a little palm leaf. They laid it on a little flat stone set before the pond, and then performed the crown reverence to them. The little spirits looked down on the offering, and nodded.
A few more of those spirits floated into view, dancing and jumping about, as if in festival. They leaped over the pond and barely touched it. Many floated over Sungai and Raxri, some of them pulling at Raxri''s cloud-like hair. A small group came over to sit beside Raxri, stumpy feet swinging without a care. They moved almost like children, in a way. In the same mischievenous yet innocent way that children did. Some of them climbed atop Raxri''s shoulder and did a little jive. Raxri chuckled. "I thank you, spirits of the forest."
A frog leapt out of the pond and onto a smooth rock beside them. It was larger than usual frog, but its smooth skin betrayed that it was no toad. It regarded Raxri for a moment, before it got up on its hind legs and stretched.
"I hath ne''er seen such a one as you," said the frog. Notice now that it had robes of such viridian, where it once was bare! It gleamed in the sun like an emerald. "A wanderer yet!"
Raxri performed the crown reverence to them. "I am but a passerby seeking solace herein this quaint pond."
The frog dusted off their robe, though there was no dirt upon it. A gesture that emulated humanity. "Yes, the Blasted Sun does like to parade her apexness around and radiate upon everybody, does she not? Such obnoxiousness. Anyhow, well pleased I am, that thou remembereth to make offering. Too many vagrants doth forget, whether willingly or not."
"Art thou the god of this blessed forest?" Raxri was uncertain, but decided that speaking in Bazaar Kyapo''s formal register was a safer bet.
The frog spirit shook their head, refuting Raxri''s wondering. "But I am one of their vassals ''tis true! This region be guarded by the Cervine Glade Lord. If thou hath made offerings before entering this forest, then thou shalt trek safewise. If thou hath offered naught, then thou best leave!"
Raxri nodded. "This one hath made offerings, lord."
The frog nodded again, satisfied. Now, suddenly, it had a crown, in the same vein of chakravartins. A crown that was not just around the head, but also went down the sides of the face, and the crown itself resembled a golden flame erupting from one''s brow. Before the frog had no headwear, but now it wore the regalia of Universal Lords!
"Good, good. Thou wilt proceed in full safety. Take thy time to appreciate the beauties of this grand city of the forest lords. They hath cultivated it with much diligence, I canst assure thee."
Raxri looked up, watched the canopies, the hanging vines, the orchids swaying in the breeze, the giant leaves... "It is, milord. What grand cultivation it must have required!"
"Indeed, indeed. Now, ah, I take my leave, servant. Fare thee well." The frog turned and walked away, not using the pond at all. It didn''t take long before the little god disappeared into the underbrush.
Raxri watched them disappear, and then took the time to rest for a few more moments. The silence was conducive to meditation, and Raxri did so, focusing on their breaths, on the lazy movements of the ponds, the occasional breeze swaying the leaves and flowers. Sungai drank a bit from the pond.
Before long, they embarked again. Raxri knew they needed to get to at least the base of Mount Jura before too deep into the night.
Deep Into The Pemiwood
By the time the sun had moved past its position atop the Utmost Throne of the World (otherwise known as Zenith, or in other languages, Noon), Sungai and Raxri were well deep into the wood. The trees loomed ever larger; the path became less traveled. Large roots and crawling vines obstacled the road. Eventually the road itself became covered in grass, and they were truly walking down nothing but forest, upon a path none had been able to blaze.
Deep in this forest, Raxri heard the lilting tune of a zither being struck. A dancing jive. Our dear wandering amnesiac had not been adequately briefed on the realities of the wood. They knew not that one should never trust sounds that emanate across the wood. The Deepwoods are not the space for humans, for mortals. As cities are the burgeoning hub of human civilizations, so too are the Deepwood glades and strangler figs the hubs of spiritual activity.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Raxri, moving on sheer instinct, figured that hearing such music might be dangerous in the middle of the woods, where any form of human settlement would not have arisen. And yet, the almost jovial tune of the zither rang through the air, electric.
Raxri spurred Sungai on, and Sungai obeyed. The black horse cantered through the road until they ended up in a small clearing. In the middle of which arose a large moss-covered boulder. The nigh blue grass that surrounded the rock gave the impression of a towering, unmanned lighthouse rising from the middle of the sea.
Atop the moss-covered boulder was a beautiful maiden, with hair the color of the deep sea, skin the color of lightly bleeding rose. She wore nothing but a loose, thin silk robe that fanned about them supernaturally, as if they were constantly underwater. This robe was transparent enough that it kept nothing to the imagination, revealing supple breasts and bare, untouched skin that continued until her waist.
Her lower half was that of a bird''s. Feathered, from her waist erupted giant iridescent bird-wings, folded now as she sat.
The bird-woman''s arms were embellished with gold armbands: many upon her biceps, many more upon her wrists. Gold rings adorned her fingers and her ears. Ear ornaments arose from them as well, giving her ears a more pointed look. She wore the burgeoning trappings of a rich noble in the Utter Islands.
Or perhaps... it was these rich nobles that emulate the trappings of this bird-lady?
She strummed a bamboo zither as Raxri and Sungai arrived within the clearing, as if she had known they were arriving. The bird-woman stopped strumming and opened her eyes. These eyes had the same green-blue that the grassy glades bore around her.
"Hello." Her voice was deep and sonorous. A voice belonging to a seasoned songstress.
Raxri dismounted from Sungai. They performed the crown reverence to the bird-lady. Sungai bowed as well.
"Stellar musician," said Raxri, bowing still. "Forgive your servant, they did not mean to interrupt your performance!"
"O, human," spoke the woman in her dulect tones. "Think nothing of it. Thou art a wanderer, as much as I." She played again, and the tone this time was less jovial and more somber. Melancholy, even. It matched the azure gloom of the forest clearing that they were in.
Raxri didn''t even know they were staring until the woman stopped smiling and turned. "Hast thou not been informed that it be full rude to stare?"
Raxri blinked, and then immediately kowtowed. "Ah, f-forgive thy dumb slave! I have let go of all mindfulness and trespassed upon thy comfort!"
"Oh, worry not overmuch. Come, thee and thine may rest here upon this rock for a while. O, come now. A bidaree biteth not! And please, trouble yourself not with the formal register. Speak plainly, it is all sound with your lady! But I am used to speaking with humans in the godly register, so bear this in mind."
"Bidaree?"
She waited for Raxri to come closer and rest upon the boulder, before speaking: "Yes, my name is Vibujja, and I am a bidaree. We magickal beings that are the celestial dancers, sometimes considered little gods of our own right. As thou canst see." Vibujja rose to her full height; though she was not as tall as Raxri, her long avian legs made it seem like she was. Almost like a flamingo. The wings on her waist unfurled, almost twice as wide as she was tall. Her long flowing hair was bound into a bun, held fast by a beautiful pin decorated with pure malachite.
Raxri couldn''t sit. Not because of fear, but because of excitement. "Forgive me, I''ve never seen a bidaree before!"
"O really? Thine eyes obscureth a greater truth, knowest thou?" She moved in a sensual way, in the kind of way that ancient dancers would''ve done, to both appease and arouse kings. "We bidaree are celestial dancers, wrought from stardust and karma."
"I thank milady for revealing such truths to me. I am ignorant to them." Raxri could do nothing but bow again, performing the mouth reverence.
Vibujja came closely and pinched Raxri''s cheek. "Oh thou art such a cute human. Beautiful besides! Thou carrieth thyself with a harmony hard to find in this furious world. The gait and sleekness of the masculine, the beauty and warmth of the feminine... thou art a wonder."
She said all this while pinching Raxri''s cheek. Raxri couldn''t help but blush.
"Oh, my subject doth blush! Adorable." She leaned in and kissed Raxri''s forehead. "Let us make story. Tell me: for what noble ambition dost thou travel into the Pemiwood?"
"A-Ah..." Raxri blinked, and then saw Sungai in the corner of their eye. The sun was getting low. "O-Oh, great lady. Please, please! Forgive me. I cannot tarry for too long. I must travel to Mount Jura, to speak and confer with the monastery there."
"Ah, meanest thou the monks that meditate upon the Giant Stone Monastery? I am well acquainted with the people there. They offer me gifts and offerings every four moons!"
Raxri wondered for a moment at the significance of four moons, but decided against it. "O, truly? Can you help me on the way there?" Sungai turned and exhaled in Raxri''s direction, as if to say: That is not the right thing to say to a celestial musician! It was funny all the same, as Raxri did not notice Sungai''s rebuke.
Vibujja smiled and said: "Surely, I will guide thee. But in barter, sing to me thy tales!
Raxri''s eyes lit up, a fire ignited. "You are most gracious, milady! Yes, I agree to such a barter."
Sungai neighed again, but the bidaree was already alighting upon the air, strumming their zither. So did Raxri leap and mount upon Sungai, and Sungai did no more rebuking.
And so they traveled. They moved past the clearing following Vibujja as she soared across the forest. It was more accurate to say that she floated apace with them, with her wings beating effortlessly. Almost as if her wings were nothing but decoration, and in truth it was magick that lifted her aloft. Raxri watched in marvel. She moved as if dancing upon the wings of the wind.
"Hail, riding one. It is full rude of thee to not announce thyself to me!" She twirled as she bounced and flew and flitted about.
Raxri bowed as Sungai cantered. "Ah, forgive me, Hri Vibujja! I am Raxri Uttara, a student of the witch Akazha. I travel to Mount Jura to learn more about this talismanic tattoo bound around my arm." They raised their arm and showcased the talismanic tattoo that bound about their forearm.
"Ah, if it isn''t a shield talisman! A shield yantra."
Raxri tilted their head to the side. "Yantra?"
"Shield Yantra. A yantra...," Vibujja moved her finger like a stele. A bright light erupted from her finger, and where she moved it, it left behind a trace in the air, as if she were writing upon the very air. She created a complex geometric mandala in the air then, "...is sacred geometry and sign, carved into the world, an instrument from which great supernatural magick flows. Where it comes from, nobody knows! Many theorize that these geometries are the closest thing to Absolute Reality. What is Absolute Reality? Wars are waged over the answer. Some say it is the Ultimate God, others say it is the deepest awakening, the Buddhas Nature, others yet say that it is the Transcendent Realm."
Raxri stared at their forearm. Once again, another slew of questions. Once again another slew of concepts Raxri couldn''t quite fully grasp, at their current moment. But Raxri meditated and concentrated on those things Akazha had said, about turning one''s every moment eventually into meditation, and pressed on. They had faith they will understand it eventually, in traveling and in movement.
"A shield yantra," continued Vibujja, waving her hand to dissipate the floating light diagram. "A yantra which protects thee. However, a yantra of that size canst protect thee only by so much, before it loses charge. As with all talismanic things." She pointed at the talismanic necklace hanging from Raxri''s neck.
Raxri looked down upon it. It felt cold against their chest. "Charge?" they asked.
Vibujja smiled. "All supernatural things are not hewn of this world. Things like magick and the creation of gods... their powers are greater, but not natural. Thus why they''re known as supernatural. They are all temporary--in truth, all things are temporary, but some fade away quicker than others--and thus to stay them upon this world requires it to be charged by meditation or by spiritual imbuement. That is the way of most magicks in this world."
"Can all beings work magick, great lady?"
Vibujja shook her head. "The possibility of magick is nascent in all beings. Yet, only a scant few can work the great wizardries that nigh-Liberation provides! True wizardry is a path to Liberation, while false wizardry is a path to power and immortality. Both are wizardry to be true, but false wizardry is the way of temporariness... though it seem to be the true path to power. Truth abides, you see, and is silent. Absolute Truth is patient, whereas the Phenomenal Truth is quick."
Raxri only nodded, though in truth they were not able to absorb all of that. They simply repeated ''Absolute Truth is patient, whereas the Phenomenal Truth is quick'' in their minds. Despite wielding their mindfulness, they could not parse the entirety of what she had said. However, Raxri was full glad that they were able to shine a light on the whole wizardhood business that their master incessantly spoke about.
"Now!" she spoke again. Her voice was so full and so distinct, Raxri couldn''t help but listen. "Enough about me. Great wanderer, tell me from whence thou has thus gone." She laid back and floated, as if reclining on a bed of clouds.
Raxri gulped. "A-Ah... well you see... milady. I cannot remember for the life of me where I have thus gone in the past."
"Oh?" Vibujja plucked on her bamboo zither, lazily. She created a light looping melody as they traveled. The melody intermingled with the sound of the winds lightly brushing the foliage and sending leaves cascading to the ground. It mingled with the babbling of the creek in the far distance, the sound of hornbill cries in the air, the sound of chiding geckos. "This be the truth? Thou art lost of memory...? Prithee, err not in thine speech and speak full truth: what was thine earliest memory, then?"
"Ah, great bidaree. This servant found themselves awakening in the pits of what witch Akazha had said... the Vault of Souls?" [1.14] Treatise On The Six Paths
  1. The Antigod waged war against the gods of the Pleasure Realms, seeking the Buddhas. His very claws rent the weave of worlds. His roars echoed thunderous across the heavens.
  2. For all his violence, he could not surmount the Hand of the Buddhas. How can you surmount nothing?
  3. Slain, the Antigod was cursed with immortality, and then caged and forged into the Antigodian Greatblade. Centuries passed, the Antigod realized his mistake: he could not win against Heaven alone. He must wield the power entire of the Earth itself. And so he influenced those that would wield him, so that he may sit upon the Wheel Turner¡¯s seat: The Lotus Throne.
  4. A billion years hence, during the Latter Day of the Law, where the teachings of the Buddhas would be eroded, vexed, twisted, and ultimately forgotten¡­
Scriptures of Fates Hitherto Unforetold, Volume 1, Chapter 1, Verses 8-11
"I see." Vibujja looked up at the sky, as if accusing the gods of something. Then, she said: "It seems perhaps the Hell King hath shewn thee a modicum of pity... or perhaps bound you to some duty? And yet no rhapsody of prophecy hath been lain upon mine ears, speaking of one such as thee. No fanfare, no song. Thou art no hero... thou art a vagrant stumbling into something much greater than thyself. Thine is the beginning of a hero''s story in truth!"
Sungai leapt over a crawling vine. Raxri reached up to pluck a loose clove from a clove tree as he did. "This servant has no claims to being a hero, great one. However, the witch and I have taken it upon ourselves to find the cause for the loss of my memory, and to seek out who I once was in truth."
"And it is the witch Akazha in truth that has taken thee in? Thou hath my full interest. Thou art a blank slate! And yet not as a blank slate as not able to speak. Though thy memories hath abandoned thee, thine innate skills cultivated from thine past life stayeth." Her plucking on the bamboo zither was soothing, still. She was a true expert in that artistry. Raxri wondered if all bidadaree can do such a task. Vibujja floated closer to Raxri and asked: "But tell me thou must: what doth thou believe might change if thou regaineth thy memory?"
Raxri blinked. Then, without much thought for it, said: "This servant in truth does not entirely know. They suppose that they''ll find out when they get there." Raxri realized that they still spoke in formal register despite the bidaree telling them otherwise.
"Ah, a wise response. The future and the past are ever now, as much as they are never now. However, try as I might, I cannot find the spark of heroes within thee. Thou truly art a being that hath stumbled into a terrible fate greater than thyself."
"This servant supposes that to be true," replied Raxri, bowing.
They then traveled for relative silence afterwards, only breaking it occasionally for Vibujja to ask a few more things, such as if Raxri remembers where they were born, or if Raxri remembers any of the martial arts they''ve practiced or any mystic cultivation they have performed. The answers to all this was no, of course.
Through it all, she played her bamboo zither, which had only two strings, which were mightily taut. The tune she played went high and low, but was long and of moderate speed, as if the wood itself played a melody for the both of them. During a point where there was a lull in their conversation, she would sing along in harmony with her zither, and it was during these times that Raxri had to fight not to fall asleep. Eventually, her humming melody became ripe with lyric.
She sang:
"O, though trials there might be
The star bard shall herald thee.
Though Raxri Uttara be,
Full lost of their memory."
At that, Raxri blushed and grinned. "A song for this servant?" No one had ever written songs for them before. At least, not one they can remember. The song, nonetheless, had an impressively familiar tune...
Vibujja smiled. "Of course! Song ariseth from the meekest of places, from the most invisible of spots. It is this tanaga that has now arisen from me. Consider thyself blessed!"
Raxri beamed. "Your servant''s ears are overflowing with nectar, great one! The tanyaga is full bursting with inspiration."
Vibujja laughed. "Ho ho ho! Thou art a spritely one, and a flatterer besides!"
"No flattery here, milady." Raxri sounded desperate, trying not to get onto Vibujja''s bad side. "It is worth full mention of the great singer''s capabilities. One can become idle and bored in the travel."
"No such thing as bored during travel, young one," said Vibujja. "During travel is a perfect time for meditation. Thou would do well to remember that."
Raxri nodded again, and then decided not to speak, so as to not get any more into Vibujja''s bad side. They instead folded their hands palm-to-palm in front of their heart, and began meditating, focusing on Sungai''s long black mane. It tossed and tussled, and in that moment a poem similarly arose from Raxri''s heart:
"Tossed and twirled, black sea be ye?
Your chaos, Shagara''s Web!"
Though Raxri did not full understand what Shagra''s Web meant, from the context they had gathered when Akazha (or was it Jikajika?) said it, they took it to heart when it meant interpenetration. As every part of Sungai''s mane was separated into a strand, they nonetheless intermingled, flattened, twisted and curled, creating large locks of hair.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Much like how, in Shagara''s Web, all things and all beings have influenced one another at some point. The wind that now blew through Raxri''s hair came from a stray breeze that spiralled down the nearby mount, which was once part of the sky, which once fought in the Windswars, which once was a little windling born from a thousand years of karmic cultivation from a rat that stayed listening to the Buddhas''s teachings.
This act of mental stimulation cost Raxri a few movements of the sun.
"I don''t suppose the horse is thine?" asked Vibujja as they traveled.
Raxri was nodding off, now. In part because of their intense meditational concentration, in part due to the lilting metronomic song which Vibujja sang.
Raxri inhaled and said: "Nay. The great master has the right of it. This horse belongs to the witch-master, who has graciously lent it to me to help in my overland travel."
"How generous. And in truth, having a horse for land travel is rare in the Utter Islands. It would''ve been much easier, faster, and safer on a boat! But I suppose the witch has no boat. Prithee, tell me: what is the witch Akazha like?"
Raxri blinked, then straightened. "Ah, pardon this servant. The witch Akazha is full helpful, though she has a tigress'' temper at times."
"Ha! How interesting. I have not personally met the witch, nor made their acquaintance. But one should know that it is almost a funny cultural phenomenon for each forest to have their own witch. East Pemiwood has Akazha as her witch, you see. Many gods and spirits pilgrimage there for certain problems that require sorcery to fix."
"Even gods require sorcery to fix?"
The bidaree nodded. She twirled to face Raxri. "Yes. Sorcery is supernatural, paranormal. The gods are, well, natural, normal. Though their powers are supernatural. And in some circles, the distinction is fraught and worthless, but we are not in those circles as of the present moment."
Raxri looked up and nodded, as if considering the fact. "I see." In truth they were attempting to shoo away an incoming sneeze, no doubt a fault of the iridescent feathers that fell from the bidaree.
Vibujja giggled--a giggle like a bird''s call--then she turned again. "I''ve seen her from afar, however. She is full beautiful, in that bladed sense. Sharp black hairs, piercing pale tones, eyes hooded and almost raptor-like, as if to hide them. Full lips, bounteous besides. Though her eyes are always so deep set, dark circles always married to them, as if she never sleeps." Raxri smiled. Vibujja continued, "She moves with the quickness of a warrior, yet is the splitting image of a wizard. Wrapped she be in her yantra tattoos, she is clean yet. When she sets her jaw she is like a man-warrior, but when she relaxes her body she stands like a woman-shaman, slack and unbound by the rules of polite society."
Raxri could''ve sworn Sungai looked at them. Raxri themself said: "Great one, may this servant lapse courtesy for a moment?" Raxri said these things as naturally as it came to them. It seems speaking to a godly being--or at least, what seemed like a godly being--activated some dormant mote of manners and politeness in them.
"If thou must." Though Vibujja did not look at them.
"It seems you are quite stricken by the witch-master. One has been observing them for a long time?"
"You may now return to courtesy," said Vibujja. Raxri performed the crown reverence and did not speak again.
They rode in silence for a few moments, before Vibujja returned to singing. As if nothing had happened.
Raxri was worried, of course. If the witch-master had a stalker in the form of a bidaree... what could that entail? Raxri knew there was some reason, some consequence to this, but fo the life of them they could not remember, so they opted instead to quiet down.
Eventually, they arrived at another slight clearing, though the ground was full uneven. The jungle canopy--which they were deep in now, and with the humidity Raxri had to shed their robe for a time, wearing only their tunic--broke open to reveal the haunting silvered visage of a titanic tree.
Its branches reached and bent against the heavens, keeping the firmament firm. Its gigantic roots burrowed into the earth. Raxri could see, upon its giant roots, pocks of light and torches. No doubt settlements have been carved into the very root of this titanic tree. The tree itself seemed to have wood so black it glistened, but its leaves were the color of pale gray fires. Its many leaves shone and illuminated the now soon to dusk sky.
Sungai bristled. Raxri nodded. "Yes, Sungai. Of course." Raxri looked up and called out: "Great singer, this one and this one''s horse are in need of rest."
Vibujja turned around, breaking from her singing. "Hm? Oh, yes, of course. Fatigue is the purview of humans such as thee. Go on, rest. I will provide thee with a tune of succor."
As Raxri dismounted and unpacked some of the food and rations for themself and for Sungai, they said: "Does the great singer require no rest?"
Vibujja shook her head as she floated over to a loose root, sat on it, and strummed her zither. "Not until my merit is burned up or am I forcibly killed, in which case I will be reborn as something else in the latter, or something similar to a bidaree in the former... provided my karma weigh not too heavily."
Raxri nodded, pursing their lips together and furrowing their brow. "I see." They turned and gave Sungai a banana, and then led them to a small brook--this one even smaller, but enough to be drinkable water for a horse.
Then, they turned and said: "Though the great chanter requires no food, this servant feels it to be rude if they were not to offer. " Raxri held out a bundle of rice in banana leaf.
Smiling, Vibujja said: "No need either. I have offerings enough, and I can go for days without needing to eat."
Raxri made a face of understanding, and then ate the rice themself. "Truly, bidaree are interesting beings. How much life can one truly live. Can this servant become as a bidaree as the great chanter?"
Vibujja nodded. "Of course, though one cannot truly ascertain the specific being one will become upon passing..."
"Oh, then one must first die?"
Vibujja shrugged and said: "Well, in truth, one must first accrue much merit and lighten one''s karma. Then one will be reborn into one of the Higher Paths."
"I do not understand."
Vibujja tapped her finger against her chin for a moment, and then said: "Here."
She sang:
"Across a billion lives dance,
Six major paths of rebirth.
Sundered they between six.
Highest be the Heaven Path,
Where higher gods dance and dwell.
Then follows the Spirit Path,
where gods of passion and earth
war and ravage and regret.
Then will be the Human Path,
where attainers of Quenching,
cultivate their minds and forms.
Then the Animal Path,
though baser, blessed they be,
for they can listen the Law.
Then will be the Ghost Path,
with hunger insatiable,
they eat until they despair.
Finally, the Path of Hell,
where beings are scourged, until
their mindstreams be free of hate,
of malice, of the karma,
inalienable until
correction arrives to claim." [1.15] The Song of the Godtree
"Tread well. Thy wound is far from the liver. " A proverb about fighting through wounds that will not kill you.
Vibujja ended the song, though she kept strumming to keep the melody going. "That be the Six Paths of reincarnation. A bidaree be in the Spirit Path. Many magickal and demonic beings, some would say demigods and semidevils, arise from the Spirit Path. We have certain powers and capabilities, and many of us are immortal, just as many of us are all too mortal. We have a hierarchy within us as well, in the same way you humans have slaves and kings."
"I see. And in all of this... everything is temporary?"
Vibujja nodded. "All things must reincarnate. Even the highest gods, the Atmost, or the Shagra, must die eventually, though in their length it might as well be eternal, living as they for a billion years."
Raxri nodded again, making another face of understanding. Sungai had finished drinking now. Raxri took a swig of their own bottle gourd--with water heated and purified with Akazha''s chants--and then sat down, wincing as their hips protested.
Where they sat gave them a good view of the burning silvered tree.
"Great master," began Raxri again, after a few minutes of waiting. "That tree... what is it?"
"Ah, the Godtree? A tune I have once again."
And so she sang...
"When tigers smoked still,
and hornbills talked yet,
and the dragons yet married humans,
there was a sapling planted
by the Goddess Quarunai of the Unconditional Love.
Though time beset them,
and the lions bit at them,
and the stone dogs crumbled around them,
the Thus-Come-and-Gone stayed to protect
this sapling.
They said: ''this sapling
is the last drop of my compassion,
before I shall attain the Body of Extinguishing.
Therefore, I must protect it with my corpse.
This is my final act as a Returner to the Wheel.
And it was so.
When Karunai became a corpse,
and their Mindstream attained Utmost Liberation,
their corpse melded with the very sapling
and shot into the sky like a spear.
This is as if to say: the Great Dissolution into the Eternal Body
of the teachings of the Law,
are greater than any tribulation,
greater than any firmament, or ceiling.
For it is this tree that rose and pushed the very Firmament
that malachite dome
higher and higher.
In Liberation, the very boundaries of this trichiliocosm
was expanded,
and the flying beings enjoyed greater bliss,
and the heavenly beings found that it took more effort
to meddle with the affairs of humans.
The effect was twofold:
humans were now more free to choose their own path,
for the heavenly beings could not meddle with the same ease.
And heaven for humans is more out of reach,
which is all the same,
for what is heaven but distraction from enlightenment?
The trichiliocosm continued to spin. That ever-turning spiral.
Whose travel moved for hundreds of billions of years,
so long that it might as well be eternity,
for those of lesser minds."
Raxri watched the Godtree, so blissful in its stillness. A stature of enlightenment, the immovable, sky-moving might of eventual Enlightenment. "I see. The goddess is truly of great wisdom, then, for having done so."
"Great wisdom," spoke Vibujja, plucking softly at her zither. "And yet greater love."The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"The goddess Quarunai was a follower of the Law? The same Infinite Law I now wish to follow?"
"Nay. This was before the Buddhas of this kalpa arrived in this grand world," replied Vibujja. "The Goddess Quarunai was a great dancer and many-headed. She was a goddess true, belonging to the greater heavens above, though choosing to stay in the earths to protect and nourish it. In her practice she achieved a form of Awakening in and of itself, and became removed from the Cycle all the same."
"This servant knew there be other faiths, there could be no doubt about that," said Raxri. "However, in full truth, this servant operated under the assumption that it is the Infinite Law that spoke the truth of things, and that it is beyond other faiths in that way!"
Vibujja shook her head. The soft tune of her zither filled the clearing with the feeling of a study hall in a temple. "O, dear Raxri Uttara. The world is much larger than thou thinketh. As the Law is infinite and eternal, it can be found in different manifestations in the world, through different cultures and different philosophies. There are very few wrong philosophies, dear child. Every philosophy which seeketh to liberate one from the suffering of this world is a manifestation of the Law all the same. Knowest thou the Tale of the Elephant?"
Raxri shook their head.
"An ancient king once asked four of their magisters to be blindfolded. Once done so, the king the gift of an ancient allied kingdom to enter into his quarters. A great lion, twice the size of a normal lion, with bulging eyes and a mane of cold smokeless flame, marched in. The king did ask the magisters to touch a part of the lion and then to state what they did believe the gift to be.
"One magister touched the tail and didst answer: ''A snake!''
"Another magister touched the mane and didst answer: ''Magick weaponry!''
"Another magister touched the snout and didst answer: ''A dog!''
"And another magister touched their leg and didst answer: ''A tree!''
"The king did tell them all that they were equal parts right and wrong. They were correct for those were what they did believe they held, due to the limitations of their being. How can they know any better, without some way to remove one''s limitations? Nevertheless, wrong they didst answer yet, for clearly, this was a great lion-beast. Not any of the things they said the lion to be.
"The lessson that speaketh here is of the simplicity of the matter: unless there be true awakening, then the reality of the world will be out of our grasp. All the faiths of this trichiliocosm grasp at a different part of the Truth Absolute, and so achieve awakening, the removal of the blindfold, thorugh different means.
"Of course, it would be disingenuous of me to say that no faith hath ever come close. In truth, that is why I speeketh with thee about the Law! The teachings of the Buddhas hew closest to true Enlightenment, and so I sing it."
Raxri blinked for a moment, still admiring the grand tree. Then, they said: "Oh, but of course the great lady would say that. Milady follows the Law. What would a follower of a different faith, or even different path say?"
At that, Vibujja continued to pluck their zither and said: "Good. You inch closer to Awakening. Keep asking, and speak with other faiths, and fall in love with other gods... only then will you find the method to true Liberation."
Right before they were about to depart, Raxri asked as they were rising to their feet to continue their trek: "So the Godtree exists to keep the sky up, and to have expanded the boundaries of this world?"
"It also grants supernatural powers and powerful imbuements to wizened sages, attainers, and cultivators. Its bark is panacea, if taken with proper ritual and propitiation. Its silvered leaves grant one wealth!"
Raxri nodded. "I see, I see. The leaf must bring great merit to the one who catches it."
"Nay, dear child, this one is easier than it sounds. Silvered leaves are common ingredients in long-life magick spells or with magick spells that grant some form of flight, due to its proximity to the sky. So selling it fetches one great a price."
"Ah, then it is more straightforward than I thought."
Smiling, Vibujja said: "Take this as a lesson, young one. Not all things abound with esotery. It is in simplicity one finds truth."
They set out again. The sun had almost vanished now, receding into its place in the Far Western Mountains of the world, where it will sleep as it performs its chthonic travel across the underrealms of the world.
As they walked, new sentient beings emerged, away from the searing rays of the blasted sun. Rari rode through the darkened woods at a brisk pace, following the faster movement of Vibujja now, who still strummed a song of safety as they traveled.
Despite this, a giant furry bearcat somehow made its way into the road, sat there, and slept. A giant, furry roadblock.
Raxri, Vibujja, and Sungai careened to a stop. Sungai neighed and stamped their hooves in protest. Raxri bent down and calmed down. "I know boy, I know."
Vibujja harrumphed, having been stopped from their music-making, and said: "Ehem, great big furry one!"
The bearcat rustled.
Vibujja neared the bearcat and kicked it.
The bearcat ruffled its fur, turned. Its large drooping eyes, balls of darkness, looked down upon the three. "O, pardon this old one. Mine eyesight is not what it used to be."
Vibujja smiled. She turned to Raxri. Raxri, not knowing any better, made Sungai trot closer and said: "O, great bearcat. This servant requires the path to be cleared so that I may travel to the mount whereupon Giant Stone Monastery rests."
The bearcat blinked. "O? But thou appearest not a monk?"
Vibujja became visibly annoyed. Raxri continued: "Your servant is no monk, great one! They are but one of the claimants of the Buddhas''s teachings. Your servant wishes to transcend and liberate not just themself, but all sentient beings!"
"O? What a noble goal." The bearcat yawned. "I suppose I canst move for thee... Provided one supplies your elder with some dragon fruits."
Vibujja exhaled sharply. "I cannot believe you. Can you not see we are in danger of being caught in the darkness of the night!"
The bearcat blinked, slowly and blankly. "That, unfortunately, is not within the purview of mine care. If thou wisheth me to move... then thee and thine must bring me a dragonfruit. It is so that I have the strengtht to move as well, I''m sure you did see." They gestured at their corpulent mass.
Vibujja was about to shout something out when Raxri said: "This will be done, elder! I will go, master of song. Please, watch after Sungai."
"Fine, fine." Vibujja flew up and sat down on the bearcat''s great form and plucked away at the zither. "This tune resonateth across the whole forest. Should you become lost, dear Raxri Uttara, follow the tune! Dragonfruit trees can be found with no difficulty in this jungle. They look like old men with overgrown hair!"
Raxri nodded and turned. They didn''t have too much light left, so they moved quickly. Uttering appeasing spells as they unsheathed their longknife and chopped away at underbrush. They heard the calming plucking tunes of Vibujja resonating from behind them. Raxri knew they could not be lost with that at the ready.
They traveled east from where they were, scything through the underbrush until they could faintly hear the sound of a river. They cut away again. They had no knowledge of what dragon fruits looked like other than the description Vibujja gave them, but they could only imagine that they were sufficiently large to be able to sate the hunger of a great bearcat such as that.
When the sound of the river became louder, Raxri became excited. Though they did not know what dragon fruit trees looked like, they hazarded a guess that they would be more common near sources of water, as most fruit trees were in their experience. Again, they found themselves questioning whether this was knowledge from their past lives or if this was pure human instinct.
They quickened their pace, cutting through and through, and eventually they found themselves leaning against bamboo that bent over the river like a canopy. The river here was beautiful, bright blue, as if illuminated by something from beneath.
Then, on the other side of the river--which was much wide, to tell the truth: half a dragon in length--a peculiar piece of foliage stood out. Leaning on its own there were the pink fruits hanging from its long, hair-like leaves curling out of a cactus-like stem and arrayed about them like an old man who has not cut their hair in a thousand years. Instinctively, Raxri knew what this was. A dragon fruit. There was no doubt about it.
"Well it''s very fortunate that they''re in season, eh?" spoke Raxri to no one really but themselves. It truly was fortunate for Raxri hadn''t the faintest idea as to the movement of the Moons. But there they were anyway. And so, they looked for a way to cross the river. Immediately, the first thing that popped to mind was the long bamboo the bent over and almost reached the other side.
Raxri tried the bamboo, nudging and pressing down on it with their foot. They tried their full weight, and found the bamboo pliant and subservient. With a nod of affirmation, Raxri stepped onto the bamboo...
..and then a giant force hammered their side, sending them slamming into a nearby coconut tree. [1.16] Tiger Swallows The Sun
AHOM AH YONG HOMA A Hundred Hundred Kingdoms stake their claim upon the Lotus Throne following the end of the Invincible Blade Princess'' Eternal Campaign. Their knights clad in malachite and jade, upon unicorns and terrible lizards. They summon magicks that ravage the Firmament, engage in rapid exchanges of sword and spear. Their kings are meritorious warlords, wielding lances of starlight, swirled about by nirvanic regalia, blessed and patronized by ferocious protector deities, bulging-eyed and tiger-tusked. Cities of stone and stilt houses shelter crying mothers and grieving brothers. Villages of cogon grass and rice fields are burnt and rebuilt. Joy and Sorrow are made to hold hands. The World is dead. Ye maggots upon its corpse... only Determination shall keep you alive now. Records of the Lapis Lazuli Monastery in Selorong, from the Sermon of the Thunderbolt Master Balakarawan
Raxri crashed into the dirt.
Coconuts rained down; thankfully none of them struck the cloud-haired warrior. Their side throbbed, though there were no wounds..
The Granite Talisman Akazha had given them shivered, and then lost all luster.
Wincing, Raxri stood, leaning on the coconut tree. They unsheathed their longknife. Weapon-ready, they turned to see what had knocked them away.
A giant tiger, adorned with a mane of white flame. The tiger''s scarlet coat was streaked through with copper stripes instead of the usual black. It bared saber-like teeth that matched the length of Raxri''s own longknife. Its horrific, bulging eyes seemed to look at every direction at once, unblinking. It was taller than Raxri by a half of their own height.
It prowled towards Raxri. Its shoulders moved sensuously, supping upon Raxri''s budding fear at such a grand, majestic sight.
Raxri bowed the crown reverence. "Forgive me for any trespass--" Before Raxri could finish, the tiger pounced.
This time, however, Raxri was ready.
Their mindfulness had allowed their awareness to be trained to a degree befitting combat. Moving upon the winds of that battle meditation, Raxri dove to the side. The tiger''s bulk slammed into the coconut tree and shattered it.
Raxri rolled as they hit the ground and converted that into a mad run. "I''m sorry, I''m sorry!" yelled Raxri. Though they were not quite sure why they were saying sorry, they figured that this tiger was some sort of forest spirit, and was attacking them for a reason yet unknown to them.
Raxri wound through the dense forest and even denser underbrush, hacking away at any vine or crawler that snagged at their foot. They ducked underneath low branches, used vines to swing from cliff to cliff.
Behind them, the tiger smashed through all obstacles. A wrathful juggernaut. A hammer of god.
Raxri heard the sonorous resonations of Vibujja''s song. There! Safety is there!
The path led Raxri to a steep cliff. In that flow state where their mind was empty of stray thought, they leapt up, caught a loose root, and scaled the wall. As Raxri cleared it, the tiger leapt, completely sailing over the cliff and then landing right in front of our amnesiac warrior.
The tiger pounced again. Raxri was not thinking now: their fight or flight activated. It just so happened that, thanks to their battle meditation, their instinctive fighting ability was heightened to almost ascetic levels. Raxri parried away the tiger''s maw with their longknife, slipped underneath the giant tiger, dove out of the way, and made a mad dash towards Vibujja''s music.
However, the tiger found purchase. It turned and clawed at Raxri, hurling the warrior into the air. The tunic and robe ripped and tore, two deep gashes on their back.
When they came back down onto the earth, blood sprayed onto the foliage about them. The tiger sniffed for a moment, and then burst into a run toward Raxri.
Wincing, Raxri rose. They readied their longknife. No other way: they had to meet the tiger where it stood. When the tiger pounced again, Raxri imbued their offhand with the Whorl Guard. They parried the tiger''s strike with great effort.
The tiger''s feet slammed onto the dirt; they turned and swiped. Raxri deflected it with Whorl Guard and then performed two circular cuts with their blade. The longknife bit into the tiger''s giant lower jaw, and then onto their shoulder, before it bolted away.
Raxri exhaled, lowering their center of gravity. Behind them was a giant tree, so old that its trunk darkened to the color of night. Vibujja''s sleepy melody echoed yet in the background.
The tiger leapt up to a tree, leapt to another tree, and then hurled itself at Raxri. Our mystic warrior dove toward the tiger to avoid its trajectory, kicked up into the air, and then cut with their blade as they arced over the tiger. Raxri''s body sailed through the air, as if upon wind and wire, with only the ring of trees to witness. They unleashed three slashes upon the tiger, cutting into their back as they sailed overhead, sending scarlet gold upon the world.
The tiger howled. Whether it was because of pain or because of exhilaration, they weren''t sure.
Raxri exhaled the moment their toes made contact with the soil, and then immediately pushed again. As if pulled by wire, Raxri shot back up, and then they lightly stepped upon a branch.
The tiger turned to swipe at where it thought Raxri had landed, but Raxri was no longer there.Stolen story; please report.
Furious, the tiger looked up to see Raxri, balancing lightly upon a loose branch. With a roar, it pounced again. Impossibly, despite its seeming bulk, it sailed across the air toward Raxri upon the branch.
Unfortunately, Raxri did have the upper hand at that moment. With an inhalation, they leapt up, somersaulting over the tiger''s own trajectory, and skillfully embedded their blade into the tiger''s eye. The ichor that burst from the hit eye caused Raxri''s hand to slip from the handle.
The tiger roared and fell to the earth. Raxri fell as well, but hit the ground without a sound, as light as a feather.
Now without a blade, Raxri readied their hands in their same Whorl Hand stance: wide and low, in case they needed to duck underneath an attack. Violence at the ready, the mystic warrior waited for the tiger''s next move.
The tiger stirred a few moments later. Raxri tightened their stance.
However, it spoke: "Thou fighteth with the grace of an actor. That is to say, a fine simulacrum of fighting, but will it be enough in a true fight against god and spirit?" It rose to its full height, turning to Raxri--who never attacked unless attacked first--and then pulled the longknife from its eye. The tiger threw it blade first into the ground in front of Raxri. "Yet, I must commend thee. Thy martial arts are not lacking."
Raxri swallowed. They didn''t quite know how to answer. They simply said: "This servant does not know what the master wishes from them. Why they attacked..."
"It must be true. The cloud hair and the dawn-brown skin and the scarlet eyes. Thy name be Raxri Uttara."
Raxri''s stance stood rigid.
"But... thou doth not move as Raxri Uttara. The Heaven Dancer I fought many moons ago moved differently than thee. Quicker, and with more strength... Who art thou, in truth? A false, weaker shadow of the great Heaven Dancer? Of the Thundercloud Knight?"
Raxri summoned their courage. "Th-This servant''s name is Raxri Uttara yet," said Raxri. "However, thy slave is shorn of memory, and remembers not much of their past. The earliest memory this servant has is awakening in the vessel of azure liquid in the Tomb of Souls."
"The Tomb of Souls...?" The tiger sat, relaxedly, as if it didn''t just have a sword stuck through its eye. "Impossible. The Tomb of Souls is the corrupted cessation of reincarnation! Unless, of course, thy soul never died truly. How quaint. The great Heaven Dancer laid low by the ravages of memory and loss. Doth thou not grieve?"
Raxri blinked and said, "Why would thy slave grieve? None has died. None yet."
The tiger laughed. "Ha, and yet thou keepeth the old one''s Sacred Foolishness. How interesting. Thou art Raxri Uttara, and yet thou are not..." The tiger looked up. "Doubtless the Buddhas, Immortals, and Gods twain trieth to teach a scriptural lesson through you." The tiger then looked down upon Raxri. Its eyes burned with fiery halos of black flame. Darkness claimed their eyes. "Thou didst manage to fend me off all the same, and I will not allow such skill proceed unrewarded. I am the god of the Southeastern Pemiwood. Many of the laity know me as Sun Seizing Prowler, and you may call me as such." Sun Seizing Prowler stretched its back, and at that moment it didn''t seem too different from any other kind of feline.
Raxri nodded. "Thy slave is Raxri Uttara. They are full glad of the clemency shown to them by the great forest god."
The tiger grinned widely. Much too widely for its maws, as if its saber teeth reached to the back of its throat. It said: "My clemency thou didst earn. Having prey manage to fight back even with such rudimentary techniques is a refreshing change of pace. Thou brawl with foundational skills that any greenhorn in the martial arts wieldeth, yet you execute them with such finesse... yes, I see now the silhouette of the old Raxri Uttara within you. Thou art defeated yet... but the growth of thy Sapi might surpass anything the Raxri Uttara before managed... Interesting. In defeat resideth victory. In the fall resideth thine ascent."
Raxri only realized now that they had never let down their defense. They did so now, lowering their stance, letting themselves relax. The tension unspooled. Adrenaline left them, and they felt their feet slacken. They tried not to make it obvious, but their grip on their blade wavered.
"Tired, are we? Thou didst push thy limits immediately." The Sun Seizing Prowler licked his paws and brushed his mane. They continued: "Thy Sapi Furnace now hath frail nature yet. Thou must cultivate it, if thou wisheth to be like the old Raxri Uttara." Then the tiger stopped mid-brush. "Unless... thou hath no such wish?"
Raxri immediately knew what the Sun Seizing Prowler referred to. Whether they wanted to become that old Raxri, to regain all their old memories. What would happen to the Raxri right now? Would they have a different attitude, different behavior? Would they laugh like they did or smile or be perseverant like they did? What things made up past Raxri and now Raxri?
Thinking about it then, Raxri realized their true answer: "Your slave knoweth not. They''ve never really thought about it."
The tiger laughed. "Ha! Then so be it! Care not about the destination. Focus only upon each individual step. As that great scholar once said: ''Enlightenment is a direction.'' A good answer withal. Then I will leave thee to thy journey."
Raxri raised their hand, hesitantly. "A-ah! Thy slave still needs dragonfruit..."
"Ah? Oh, yes. The bearcat. A lazesome fellow he be. Here." The tiger pierced the soil in front of them, and three dragonfruits blossomed out from that puncture. "Take these and grant them to the bearcat. Thy journey endeth soon. Mount Jura is near. So near that you cannot see it anymore, as you are rightly right around the base of it."
"Your slave thanks the great and benevolent lord."
"Move now, before the moon fully rises. Even I will not be able to protect thee from the dangers brought about by the night, away from the draconic eye of the Sun."
Raxri took that advice to heart. They took their longknife--which now gleamed with a certain sun-like quality--and sheathed it. Raxri gathered the dragon fruits, waved goodbye to Sun Seizing Prowler, and then took off in the direction of Vibujja.
When Raxri returned, Vibujja put their hands on their hips, admonishing: "Oh, well thou surely took thy time. And dear lords, thou hath been damaged true!"
Raxri blinked, looking down at their damaged robe and tunic. They suddenly felt that burning pain again lancing up their back. "Ah, yes. This servant ran in with the god of East Pemiwood."
"Sun Seizing Prowler?" said Vibujja. "Handsome fellow he be, though strange and circumspect. Here, let me soothe thy wounds with song." And they performed a lilting tune. As they did, green winds did gather about Raxri wounds, and set about to stitching them quicker. "A trick up my sleeve that be, though I am forbidden from abusing it by dint of only being able to use it so much every full moon."
Raxri bowed in thanks as the burning sensation was replaced with a similar burning sensation, but this one came with relief instead of pain. Truly, relief and pain were two sides of the same coin, something that cannot exist without the other. Though the wounds were still there, and healed just as slowly, the pain from such wounds lifted, and the bleeding was staunched. "Your slave thanks the bidaree."
Raxri walked to the bearcat, who had fallen asleep to Vibujja''s soothing tunes. With a slight nudge of their elbow, and with another not so slight nudge with Vibujja suddenly plucking an abrasive note, the bearcat stirred into waking.
"Mm?" It chewed on the air for a few moments. "What is it?"
"Your dragon fruits, elder one."
The bearcat turned its bulk and smiled. "Ah splendid. And of the giant variety too!" He chuckled. His bassy voice quaked the earth. "Thou would make a good wife."
Raxri blinked.
The bearcat took the dragon fruits in one paw, and then rose up and trudged out of the way, deeper into the forest, away from where Raxri had dove into. Every step it took quaked the earth. After a few tremors, a pause, and then a much larger quake. No doubt the bearcat had repositioned itself somewhere close. Of course, it couldn''t spend all of its energy on walking.
"That''s that," said Raxri, dusting their palms. They breathed and said: "Great chanter, shall we?"
"We must," said Vibujja, grinning. She danced again on the air. "The sun dawns truly now. It is only a matter of time before the hordes and the restless find us in this path. Come, we ascend Mount Jura now in truth." [1.17] Silver And Wind Demons
"Demonkind is not to be meddled with. In truth, the name "demon" is a moniker we place upon all those destructive. As with all teachings of the Law, there is no inherent quality that demons possess: these are all titles we ascribe to phenomena. Many demons are fabricated out of sorcery, woven by magicks. Other demons are karmic manifestations of people or places, which melt away once dealt with." Devil Womb Sutra, written by Airotsana the Primeval Buddha
The path up Mount Jura became steeper and narrower. However the path was safe yet, much safer than the other paths Raxri had traveled before. It was a smooth path for the most part and a straight shot up as they scaled up the mountain and then around it through a stone path carved in such a way to circumambulate around its spires.
Vibujja, who had become tired from floating all the while, perched atop Sungai''s haunches. Raxri did not feel her weight at all. As they turned a corner and Sungai had to walk up more steep inclines, Vibujja asked: "So what did happen to our intrepid wanderer? Thy armors are all a-mess!"
Raxri scratched the back of their head and said, "When seeking out the dragon fruit, your servant was assailed by a fierce tiger god, who turned out to be Sun Seizing Prowler, one of Pemiwoods'' Gods. When I faced them in battle, they were seemingly amused by the fact that I would even try to make battle with them. Oh, and the god knew my name. They said that I had fought with them before, in times now past."
"Oh," Vibujja tilted her head suddenly in both surprise and interest. "Interesting. Then I suppose thou must have been a person of some import in the past..."
"Perhaps so," said Raxri. "Though for what reason I cannot fathom." They shivered a bit: during the darkening of the night, the world seemed suffused in ice in these altitudes.
Vibujja must have noticed, because she said: "Oh thou art so pitiable." Vibujja conjured up some extra cloth--though these were as translucent as the ones she wore--and gave it to Raxri. Our cloud-headed warrior took it with full appreciation and wrapped it about them so they could have some shielding against the cold. Despite its translucent appearance, it provided Raxri with surprising warmth, and Raxri performed the crown reverence to Vibujja in thanks.
"Oh don''t worry about it. Worry now about regaining thy memories. The mystery of it all... it does excite me so!"
"I will try to do just that, great one," said Raxri, sniffling. "Once your servant remembers who they are, I will return to thee posthaste."
"O, no need for that, cloud-headed one," replied Vibujja. "I will follow thee where thy goeth, for good or ill, watching you as an invisible cloud, for the sole purpose of blessing thee with my music, and chronicling thy tale. I can just imagine it now. Thou art the subject of my greatest sagas, my greatest songs!"
Raxri blinked at that. Though at first they felt embarrassed, Raxri couldn''t deny that having at least two people so willing to exalt them boosted their mood by a bit. No doubt Raxri thought that since they had lost their memory, they probably had lost all traces of their past glory as well. And since none are actively looking for them, Raxri found it safe to assume that there was no way people remember them now, other than those they had directly interacted with in the past.
Raxri took such faith and said: "Your servant will not let you down, great bidaree!" And they grinned.
Vibujja''s look softened, just for a moment, and then she took once again to the skies to float alongside the marching horse.
Eventually, Sungai stopped. Raxri, who had slowly dozed off, shook awake. "Sungai? Are you okay?" They reached down and stroked Sungai''s muzzle. Vibujja appeared behind them, standing weightlessly upon Sungai''s haunches. Her face was severe, ruminating, vigilant.
Before them was a small circular clearing in the mountainside path. Iridescent magenta vines clogged a shrine, which stood right beside the cliffside. These vine-fires emitted no heat; it resembled undulating oil pantomiming the flame-motion. Its unnaturality set Raxri''s stomach to churn.
Bipedal, humanoid creatures, wearing sarongs and tunics and all, with wide-brimmed hats and extra cloth shawls as protection against the heat or rain, lazed about the clearing. One would''ve mistake them as innocent farmers if it weren''t for them having mangy dog-heads. Ears triangular, sharp, snout long and lined with wicked sharp fangs. Their eyes bulged and flitted looked about erratically, looking for something they can never find.
When they saw Raxri approach, they reached out for farming tools: knives, longknives, sickles, rakes, and spears.
"Demons," snarled Vibujja.
"Demons?" This was the first time Raxri would ever meet these demons. The word stirred up feelings of unnaturality, of destruction, of annihilation, of colors iridescent and chromatic and magenta. Nausea-inducing odors and imagery.
"These Dog Demons the God of Wanton Annihilation Hri Kresshanna did fabricate with wrathful sorceries. In the elder times, when dragons yet married humans. Now these hordes obstruct humanity from bliss and enlightenment."
Raxri unmounted. Their wounds faded into forgetfulness as they unsheathed their longknife. "They are not sentient beings?"
Vibujja smiled. "If thou doth worry about the karmic consequences of killing them, it will be nothing but meritorious!"
That does not answer my question, Raxri thought.
When Vibujja said that, as if the demons were listening, they howled and pounced, weapons at the ready.
"Great one, stay back!" Raxri barked.
"I will be taking to the skies! Battle befits me not! Music is the mantle I take, while yours must be violence!" Vibujja took out their bamboo zither and plucked out a rapid tune of vivacity and clashing. To that rhapsody, Raxri rushed forward to meet the demon dogs.
The dog demons were fierce. Though they were demonkind to be true, they did not seem to falter in the department of falsifying human intellect. They moved like any martial artist would--though of course their martial art was the crude pragmatism of the bandit.
With rusting weapons they struck, and with a blade bathed in the ichor of a forest god, Raxri struck back. In a flash of steel, three deflections as Raxri moved towards the one wielding a sling. "Always go for the ones that wield the ranged weapons first," Akazha''s teachings rung clear in Raxri''s mind.
Three quick cuts of the blade and Raxri tore through them, steel on water. The one they slew wore no armor nor tunic. Simply a gold belt around their waist and a plain brown sarong.
Upon destruction, the dog demon screamed. A yelp that, if Raxri would have had any doubt that they were sentient beings yet, would have sent lances of guilt through Raxri''s heart. But here their resolve was steel. Here their composure had the contemplative demeanor of a monk in meditation.
The demon dissolved into fireflies of iridescence, gray, blacks and reds. These fireflies in truth were nothing but motes of left over transverse sorcery, born from the magicks and paranormal powers of that demon god. Of Hri Kresshana''s malice upon this world already filled with suffering. The fireflies eventually petered out and dissolved back into the void.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
There were three more about them. Some hits struck home, but their rusted weapons did nothing but vaguely scrape and lightly tear at Raxri''s exposed clothes. Raxri shrugged off the strikes, feeling them nothing more as blunted strikes of an iron pipe.
With assured quickness, Raxri performed two more quick striking maneuvers with their longknife, applying circular movements of the Whorl Hand to their blade-strikes.
Their longknife ripped and tore. Two more dog demons howled into the night, dissolving as well. No traces of blood save for the blackened liquid that ran viscous down Raxri''s blade.
They flicked it down onto the stone. The stone sizzled, and the viscous, baleful substance dissolved into nothingness again.
Two more closed in on Raxri. Taking initiative, Raxri rushed forward to strike at the right one, cutting twice, before twisting their body and using that momentum to send the other one flying off the cliffside and into the forest below. None could survive a fall that great. Then, Raxri struck down with a savage bladed elbow, before finishing the dog demon beside the one they''d sent flying with three crescent slashes.
Three more came down from up the stairs, yelling and screaming and yapping.
"A cloud-haired one is striking us down!"
"There will be none of us left to seize the monastery!"
"We must tell the great chief quickly!"
Raxri dashed forward and engaged. Our cloud-headed swordhand quickly dispatched two of the demons: parry-parry-cut-cut-decapitate.
The last dog demon Raxri caught with an arm around the neck and slammed them into the stone wall. The dog demon''s eyes were wild, afeared.
"What master do you serve?"
The dog''s tongue was so loose, Raxri had to be careful not to accidentally cut it off: "Silver Wind Witchdog! He''s the chief of all the dog demons now invading Mount Jura!"
"What''s this talk of seizing the monastery?"
"A-ack! We-we wanted to eat the dharma pills inside the monastery so we could attain immortality and overthrow heaven!"
Raxri frowned. "Such excessive want... surely this is a mark of demonkind. Where is your master?"
"Higher up the mountain, in the Cave of the Mountain!"
Then, suddenly, Raxri said: "Thank you. It was smart of your god to give you human emotions... though I suppose it is the humans that have demon-like passions," Raxri shrugged. They let go of the demon and chanted: "AHOM" as their blessed longknife bisected the demon with a single diagonal stroke.
The chanting music of Vibujja intensified. The bidaree herself was nowhere to be found, though nearby a light cloud of mist seemed to stick close nearby. The music was upbeat, quick, multiple plucks of the zither to create a sound that reverberated like blades clashing upon blades. "This song..." said Vibujja, directly into Raxri''s mind (Raxri jumped and squirmed and clawed at their temples before they realized this, for Raxri was not exactly a non-idiot), "...I now call: Blinding Steel Flash!"
Raxri heard the squeals of troubled dog demons ahead. As they climbed the stairs, Raxri worried about the little chips and spiderweb cracks their longknife now sustained. Either they had to be more careful, or this longknife was made less durable than others. Or perhaps the things they were slashing with the longknife were not exactly good for a longknife''s blade.
It didn''t matter either way.
An arrow flew overhead and Raxri ducked. They dashed up the stairs, two more arrows soared toward them. One grazed Raxri''s shoulder, sending a lance of pain through that locality. The second arrow Raxri managed to quickly perform Whorl Guard, catching the arrow and then sending it back at the bow wielder. The dog demon archer yelped and dissolved in mid air as they fell.
The top of the second flight of stairs led to a path that wound into the mountain itself, opening up to a light forest glade mostly choked by bamboo and katmon. The path here was surprisingly wide, as if the gods of this mountain specifically made it more accommodating for the monks that stayed here. Lotuslights illuminated the clearing brightly, providing ample light in the middle of the night.
"Stay back!" yelled a figure in the middle of the clearing, by a nearby well. Surrounded by dog-demons was a monk, head shorn of hair, clad in scarlet robes and with ruddy skin blessed by the Sun''s Blasted Rays. Underneath his scarlet robes was a familiar cap shirt, though this one was saffron colored. He had wooden sandals bound to their feet with strings of reed. In his hands he wielded a khakkhara: a pewter staff. It was the monkstaff made of multiple iron rings, which clinked and clanged as he moved it around to keep the dog demons from advancing.
One of the dog demons took their chance: their rake swung in an overhead strike. Expertly, the monk ducked underneath it, bringing his pewter staff with him as he twirled, and performed a leg sweep take down followed by a pewter staff finisher, sending the demon crashing to the ground. The cacophony of the metal rings upon the monk''s pewter staff produced a calming, almost purifying sound that immediately cleansed the spot where the dog demon fell. The dog demon still dissolved into its sorcerous motes, which shed its aggreggates and dissolved back into nothingness.
The monk spoke as he fended off the demons: "It is not safe to be traveling at night. If you value your life, wanderer, turn back and head down. I will retrieve you when it is safe!"
Raxri shook their head and rushed into the fray. "Grit your teeth and set your heart ablaze!" They dove into the group of dog demons, an unfurling lotus of iron and quickness.
Before long those dog demons dissolved as well under Raxri''s whorling assault.
One dog demon managed to find a hole in Raxri''s tempestuous guard. The demon reached out, half in prayer, straight sword thrusting through. Raxri turned just in time; their talismanic tattoo shattered the sword as its steel met Raxri''s tattooed skin. No time for surprise: our brave hero''s vengeful blade stroke bisected the dog demon vertically.
Through it all, Vibujja unleashed a high octane bamboo zither tune, which was somehow joined by the sound of a piercing flute to bring the chorus to a peaking high.
A demon, who fought with nothing but its claws, pounced upon Raxri as they caught their breath. The monk intervened, pewter staff ringing extrication. He struck quickly: bash-bash-slam straight into the ground, dissolving them into the eaeth.
Raxri used that moment to take down the last dog demon, who was aiming its arrows at the monk. Raxri exhaled, flurrying their Nihawa into their hand: they tossed the longknife across the air.
It shot straight, like a dragonfly, and tore through the demon before it shattered against the bamboo behind that same demon.
Breathing heavily, Raxri said: "Relay to me: from where might a monk learn such violence?"
"Our order is one of esoterica for a reason," replied the monk. His brows furrowed and he looked up. "Where is that music coming from?"
"Oh it''s coming from the great chanter Vibujja," replied Raxri as they straightened their back.
"Speak you about the bidaree Vibujja?"
Raxri nodded.
The monk stared blankly at them for a moment, and then shook their head.
"In any case, be on your guard. Those dog demons are legion yet. Come, the monastery doors are open. You will be safe there until sunrise."
The high octane battle music had faded away into a low peaceful flute tone. One that eventually disappeared into the winds of the high mountain.
Raxri followed the monk, leading Sungai by his reins. Look at him now: the monk seemed covered, head to toe, in the same talismanic tattoos that Raxri had. One could not see the full extent of the tattoos due to their robes, but portions poked out in continuum from his arms, shoulders, neck, legs, feet, and hands. An armor wrought out of ink and mantra.
"I am the monk Yiwaritala," the monk, Yiwaritala, said. "It means ''Little Disciple of Tala Buddha.'' Her teachings and reverence are paramount here, in Giant Stone Monastery."
"I see. Ah, I am Raxri Uttara. I was sent by the witch Akazha--"
Yiwaritala almost fell over. Raxri blinked, and then stared blankly as the monk, in truth, did fall over, despite the path was exceedingly smooth. No doubt the path was kept pristine by these very monks as well. No stone gave arise to the conditions that would have caused Yiwaritala Monk to fall.
When the monk finally rose to his feet, padding at his robes, he said: "I lost my step, somehow. Forgive me."
"You have done no harm to me," said Raxri. "Are you okay?"
Yiwaritala nodded. "I see you know Akazha."
"It seems you do as well." Raxri''s eyebrows furrowed now.
"Yes. Well. Let us get into the monastery before any more demonkind find us. The Sun drowns into the far sea, and the moon shall soon smile upon indigo sky." The monk quickened their pace, to the point that Raxri had to jog to keep up.
The Monastery''s circular gates eventually revealed itself: up ahead, flanked by two spires that seemed to form an archless arch--like the ones from the Temple of Dak Emmara Senje--were a set of giant doors set in a circular frame. That frame was made of stone, and had twelve equidistant spokes, each one showcasing a different symbol. Too esoteric for Raxri to know for now. The doors were of heavy oakwood and had been painted red. As they neared, Raxri could immediately smell the overpowering incense.
Yiwaritala quickly walked up the small set of stairs to the door. They knocked once, and then they pushed the heavy doors open, having to use their entire body weight to even get the oakwood to budge, though it did eventually give way.
As the door swung open, a serenity washed over Raxri. The sounds of chanting emanated from within. Even Vibujja''s music ended, replaced now by the soft rhythmic mantras of the meditating monks.
Raxri walked in after Yiwaritala. [1.18] The Scripture of Evisceration
"Thus must ye hear, dearest disciples. A great god who is a faithful patron of the Law hath defeated fully the god so worshipped by the great sages of this time. Drenched in blood of the saffron flower, this scarlet god''s ritual conversion shall finish when they will be needed the most, and they will attain Awakening as have I, following the teachings of the Arhats among you... They shalt arrive under the name Termagant Buddha, and their treatises and practices will seem to run contrary to mine known teachings... but this is not so. My teachings are not mine own, but the Law. I am but the messenger of Enlightenment. And as with all teachings, there are many different methods to Enlightenment, by necessity. We live in a world of diversities. For all things to be united, it must first be shattered into a thousand thousand pieces. The Termagant Buddha shall teach thee the importance of violence in the thorny path to Liberation." From the Evisceration Scripture of this Kalpa''s Tutelary Jina*
Giant Stone Monastery was built around a monumental statue carved onto the side of Mount Jura''s high cliff. This statue was feminine, but had all the accoutrements of a buddha.
Bands of bejewelled gold crowned and embellished her forearms biceps, ankles, wrists, and neck. The Buddha dressed in a long tunic and a sarong. A long floating sash floated about them, and a moon disc halo emanated on their behind them, as if a throneback. They stood on a giant lotus throne surrounded by many others lotuses. One of their hands was palm up pointing to the ground, and her other hand held a strange looking knot, which looped 8 times.
A sculpture resembling a bidaree was carved in the upper right of the statue, and on the other side was a masculine version of the bidaree, which had a similar floating sash about them. That masculien bidaree had four hands, two of which were handling a boat lute.
In front of the statue was a serene pond, with multiple lotus flowers floating along it. The pond was shaped like a fat crescent, and in its nook was a stone spirit house, from which a pedestal jut out. There rice grains, flowers, fruits, and incense--joss sticks--were offered.
The flat stone of the monastery''s grounds inclined slightly near the statue, the statue commanding even the earth. A five pointed wall as built around the female Buddha''s statue: the monastery''s walls.In each point of the wall was a pagoda, and then below the pagoda was a wide and spacious house with multiple roofs. From the houses the monks walked in and out of. Each monk was given one room and one thick cloth to lie down upon to sleep.
One of the houses was larger than the others, placed farthest from the entrance, and hugged the mountain wall. This was the Resting House, which housed 300 rooms in all; only 295 monks could be accommodated here at any given time.
A nun came up to Yiwaritala as they entered. She was beautiful: sharp chin, eyes, and cheekbones, and a fully shaved head covered in talismanic tattoos. She was almost feline. She was wrapped in two layers of robes, within the color of snow, without the color of wet ash. "Yiwaritala!" Her voice was husky, as if she spent her days as a toddler crying constantly. Despite this, her tone was still cheerful, bubbly. "The abbot told you not to head out on your own!"
Yiwaritala bowed to the nun, hands folded together in a heart reverence. "Ahom, Pilinitala," the nun, Pilinitala, still bowed back, despite her seeming anger. "The world be full of dangers, and no doubt the deities of this mountain petitioned the Bodhisattvas to tell me that demonkind has infested the lower realms. Witness who I have found."
Yiwaritala turned to show Raxri. Our cloud-headed amnesiac waved their hand--caught it, and then instead bowed with a heart reverence. "Hallowed evenings to the monk. I am Raxri Uttara. Is it no trouble to allow my horse into the monastery?"
Pilinitala nodded quickly, almost dismissively, and said: "Of course. Sugunitala! Tend to this visitor''s horse!" A young boy of a monk, with skin pale yet brown still, walked over and took Sungai by the reins. He was clad in robes gray and brown. He brandished a banana and waved it over Sungai''s mouth, calming them almost immediately. The boy Sugunitala was not covered in the telltale talismanic tattoos, save for his forearms.
"Where is the abbot? He must know about this one," said Yiwaritala, looking about. "Some interesting things have surfaced."
Pilinitala blinked and looked at Raxri in askance, examining them for a moment. Then, she said: "I think they''re within the meditation house," she said, sighing. "I''m glad you''re okay."
Yiwaritala smiled and nodded at Sugunitala, placing a hand on their forehead for a moment. "Thank you for having care for me. I will not squander your thoughts. You may return to your duty without worry or fret. Ahom, and may the God-Cutting Light guide you."
Yiwaritala turned around to Raxri and bid them to follow. All the while, throngs of monks walked to and fro.
The meditation house was the tallest house, mostly because it had the tallest pagoda stretching out of its roof, like a stabbed sword. Within it were four giant square pillars; engraved onto it were whereupon great narratives and stories of ancient heroes and gods. This made the house a building truly built upon the stories of eld.
Another statue of a buddha dominated the room, rising from the back of the room, behind an altar whereupon long horizontal palm leaf manuscripts laid beside cloth paintings and other palm leaf paintings. This one was a masculine being sitting upon a iridescent cloth.
Its gigantic form filled up the entire back half of the meditation house, even going into the second and third floors of the building. Its scowling face, bulging eyes, hair tied into a taut bun and outwardly whorling fangs betrayed the face of a demon. An aura of solid fire framed him. In one arm raised they wielded a spear, with a vajra dagger for a spearhead. In the other hand outstretched before him, as if in deflection, was a straight sword, its hilt also a vajra.
His body was covered in a cuirass of interlocking steel plates woven ontop of a heavy cloth robe. His lower half was sheathed in a sarong also woven with steel plates; underneath the sarong one could see a sarouel. Their feet shorn of armor proved only the Buddhas''s connection with the earth.
The meditation house itself was spacious. Its door-height windows allowed the cold wind to enter. The large horizontal entrance allowed the cold wind to dance within, and then leave whenever they pleased. This kept the house cold, even in the midst of the Blasted Sun''s reign.
There were multiple small horizontal ankle-high desks that rose from the floor. In front of each of the desks was a golden circular seat, with a rectangular cushion on top of it to raise one''s body higher than one''s feet. Monks would study here, recite mantras, perform meditations, and listen to the teachings of the higher monks and the Adamantine Masters.
There were no monks here at this time of night. No doubt they were readying themselves for their sleeping hours: the sun was drowning now in the horizong. In the middle of it all, however, sat down in the vajra sitting position as if ready to arise into war, was an old man. Their skin was the color of pure iron, so gray that they might as well have been wrought from stone. Cleanly shaven of all body hair, the man seemed truly like a rock, unmoving. They wore three layers of robes: outside was the shawl of pure black, followed by a robe of dark ash, then a pewter colored tunic and sarouel underneath. Upon their eyes, they wore spectacles, though they were of thin, wiry frame.
Of course, this one was covered in great talismanic tattoos. They could see upon their head symbol surrounded by multiple mantras creating a circle that eventually emanated and webbed out, continuing down their spine and neck and eyes. Their tattoos semeed to glow with a volcanic red hue, as if the tattoos were engravings upon volcanic stone.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Yiwaritala allowed the resonance of their pewter staff striking the ground to signal their arrival. Raxri tensed up: wouldn''t interrupting someone as important as the abbot from performing whatever they were doing be wrong?
The abbot raised their head, the sound of a great exhale. Serenity flowed out from the man, as if biding within him, as if stored within his own body.
Serenity was never a physical concept, yet here it was the air.
The abbot raised his hand.
Yiwaritala left his pewter staff to sit by the door, and walked in. Raxri followed. As they neared, Yiwaritala performed a mouth reverence and said: "Abbot Wairojashra. The Auspicious Light be cut through you," the younger monk said, before walking to his front. Raxri followed as well, thinking to follow only the movements of someone that knew the social mores of a community of monks.
The abbot looked at Raxri and thought for a moment. Then: "Let the God-Flensing Darkness cut you both as well. You are back earlier than I thought you would be, Raxri Uttara." The abbot smiled.
Coldness ran through Raxri''s spine. They looked at Yiwaritala, who looked aghast.
The monk said: "The... the abbot knows them?"
"Sit, Raxri, both of you. What seems to be the problem, as you have knocked me out of mine meditation." Abbot Wairojashra caught Raxri''s glance and said: "Oh dear. You bear now the look of a fool, vapid and without recollection. Have you lost your memory, in truth?"
Raxri bit their lips and nodded. "I... I have, great abbot. You could tell?"
The two of them sat in front of the abbot. There was a similar wooden desk rising from the lacquered wood floor in front of him. They turned around and called two monks passing by, with a voice surprisingly loud for someone who was speaking so softspokenly before. "Please, some tea for our guest and your abbot."
The two young monks bowed, and then they made their way to the kitchen.
"Where did you meet the kindly Raxri Uttara?" asked the abbot afterwards, to Yiwaritala.
Yiwaritala stumbled a bit, and then said: "I was moved with great compassion to take stock of the situation down the path, in the grove."
"Yes. Against what I''ve said, but continue." The abbot said this with a certain smiling humor.
Yiwaritala''s words stumbled again. When they could hazard the collection of their tongue, they continued: "The dog demons have arrived now, in Jura Mountain, venerable one. They will be cause for worry in due time. This one... Raxri. They showed considerable skill in combat, and have told me that they were sent by the witch Akazha to help them with their situation."
Serenity still chaining his face (or perhaps it had become his face?), the Abbot Wairojashra nodded in understanding at all of this. "So it is true. You''ve forgotten who you are? Everything you''ve ever known... gone?"
Raxri nodded. "There is not one that I can remember in truth, venerable one," answered Raxri, shifting about uncomfortably. "My last memory is awakening within cold azure waters, deep in the pit known as the Vault of Souls."
"I see," said Abbot Wairojashra. "You''ve met with a truly terrible fate, haven''t you, heaven dancer? That was your epithet, once. Heaven Dancer. You danced across the heavens upon winds of enlightenment and liberation. Would you like to know what you did when you were here?"
Raxri bent closer and nodded a bit too eagerly. "I-if! If it''s all right with the venerable one..." The revelation that they were a Heaven Dancer, an attainment of some sort of enlightenment, lit a match within their liver, sending them into an almost frenzied curiosity.
The abbot reached over, took Raxri''s forearm, and caressed with his thumb the talismanic tattoo. "This came from us. You came here to get started on your yantra tattoos, so that you may become fully protected from all danger, and to make situations of good karma and merit appear more often. More importantly, you did this so that you could meditate upon the impermanence and interpenetration of all things."
"I see..." Raxri''s eyes glistened as they listened. The abbot''s fingers were hard and coarse, truly as if living stone moved across their supple skin. Up close, Raxri smelled the odor of smoke, similar to the smell they would have when inhaling upon their smoke pipes. Yiwaritala shifted uncomfortably in their seat, clearly in both in confusion and in anxiety, as they were no doubt used to not being mired in perturbation.
The elderly abbot ran their hard fingers across the tattoo and then said, "Hm. But this tattoo has lost its great power... It has not been invested with your Sapi..."
"Ah, the bidaree Vibujja had said something about it losing its charge," replied Raxri.
The abbot shook his head. "Yantra tattoos such as these do not require charge in the same way talismanic charms would... tattoos are always on, though reliant on one''s own vitality, set aflame by one''s Sapi."
"I can control my Nihawa, Abbot," said Raxri. "I-I think."
"Not to the degree that you could before. It keens within you, like a centuries-deferred thundercloud, ready to burst. And... there is something more. These tattoos emanate not with the compassion you once held."
"What?" Raxri tilted their head to the side. "What does that mean?"
The abbot leaned away, letting go of Raxri''s forearm. "You are full empty, you see. You are void of understanding. Without your memory, you who were once free from many tangles, have become increasingly tangled again within copious amounts of attachments."
Raxri considered this for a moment, then said: "Ah... so does that mean I have to grow compassion? That should be easy... I love everything! Everything is easy to love!" Raxri grinned, almost obnoxiously.
Yiwaritala barked out a scornful laugh.
Raxri turned to him and said, "Ha?"
The Abbot Wairojashra laughed, this one more good natured and more welcoming, more loving. They said to Raxri: "Compassion, you see, abounds in all of us. But to grow compassion, to cultivate it, requires the tempering of anger and wrath. Of aversion. Of hatred. These poisonous emotions must exist first in your body before it can be turned into compassion, in the same way iron must first be tempered to become a blade. In the way poison itself is turned into medicine. Shorn of memory... you have become devoid of the passions and the subsequent serenities that arose from therewith."
Raxri leaned back on their sitting position. "So to enlighten myself... I must fill myself with memory?"
The abbot replied: "To enlighten yourself you must engage in skillful means and accumulate knowledge, so that you reach the realization of the true nature of reality."
A silence filled the room. The cold air danced. The silence allowed the abbot''s final words to echo. In that moment, it truly felt like a great sage speaking and teaching his disciples upon a great boulder, deep in sermon.
Then, Raxri said: "What can we do with the tattoo, then? Is there no way to regain that memory?"
"All attachments are suffering," said the abbot. "Even attachment to one''s past self. Even attachment to thine memories. Who is to say that you will ever be that Raxri Uttara ever again?"
Raxri tried to think about that thought, but found that they could not truly think about it for too long. The concept was just too void for them, unthinkable. Who are they right now if not that Raxri Uttara? How can they be different when they are that same Raxri Uttara. Does memory truly make up so much of who we are?
"I... I''m not sure..."
"That is unfortunate. The Raxri Uttara of the past... they had the latent power to be able to save all that they wish. Would you be able to attain even a fraction of that accomplishment?"
Raxri bit their lip, confused, somewhat scared. Will they ever be the Raxri Uttara they wanted to be? Who even was that?
No... if I cannot become the Raxri Uttara I once was... then I will become better than that Raxri Uttara.
"I..." Raxri looked up. "I endeavor to be stronger than that Raxri Uttara. I will exceed the enlightenment they once attained. I will not lose my memory, and I will be unkillable. I will become undefeatable, unconquerable. I will become the strength of a thousand, I will become the hope of every sentient being!"
The great scowling face of the wrathful king bore down on them.
The Abbot smiled. Their eyes were looking in the direction of Raxri, but they weren''t looking at Raxri. The smile turned sinister, somehow. As if judging, as if the celestial beings glowered down upon Raxri for their insolent arrogance. He snarled: "And if the number of people are innumerable?"
Raxri swallowed. "I will save them all--"
The Abbot continued immediately: "And if they hate you? And if this hatred is inexhaustible?!"
"I..." Raxri felt like a child, crying, wishing that their father would believe them. "I will break them all!"
"And if the wisdoms you must attain are unreachable?" Their voice echoed now, though they spoke with the voice of tranquility. Their voice boomed with the resonance of thundercloud.
Raxri''s eyes flickered to the ferocious deity. They shut their eyes, to push through. They felt like they were going to burst into tears at any time. "I will attain them all!"
The Thunderbolt Master leaned forward, and his eyes were open now, and it seemed as if he took upon himself the very visage of the ferocious deity. They spoke with one, booming voice, indistinguishable from one hundred simultaneous thunderclaps: "AND IF EMANCIPATION IS UNATTAINABLE?"
Raxri looked at them in the eye. "I will accomplish it all the same." [1.19] The Termagant Buddha
"Thus now thou must hear: through no other way can one shatter the chains of oppression but through the skillful means of violence. Wield that handleless blade. This is the righteous path to liberate the suffering of the masses. Cut and slice until all beings are free." Dattreya Wairini Buddha''s ultimate speech, at the head of the Selorong Revolution during the First World Revolution
Yiwaritala observed Raxri Uttara with ebbing fear.
A frightening cloud of mystery surrounded Raxri now, despite their almost dainty appearance that caused him to definitely think Raxri was a young girl at first (and even know, how they act, he couldn''t pinpoint whether they were a woman or a man).
Especially with the fact that this person has been here since before even they arrived. Yiwaritala has been training in this very monastery for ten years now at this point. And in that time he became a true bonafide teacher and master, and have worked their rung up to Fifth Rank of monkhood. He''s practiced their austerities, perfected their rituals, and even grasped Pure Contemplation. But even this was information he was not privy to.
The disciples had returned then with a tea set with porcelain tea pots. Each teacup was filled to the brim with the golden draught that was black tea, brought here no doubt from other mountains, as this mountain did not have the conditions for cultivating tea.
They three of them sipped, with both hands. Politely, on all sides.
"Ah, abbot," began Yiwaritala, cautiously, prodding. When the abbot turned to him, he continued: "This one, Raxri Uttara, also mentioned having been trained by the witch master Akazha. What do you make of that?"
"Akazha... this is the witch of the Pemiwood''s Northern Periphery, yes?" The Abbot turned to Raxri. "Then no doubt you emerged from the Emmara Senje Temple of the Blackstone Coast."
Raxri broke out of their reverie and said: "Yes. I awoke in the darkness of what the witch has called the Vault of Souls... if that means anything to the great master."
"Thunderbolt master," corrected Yiwaritala. Raxri turned to him and nodded, then repeated the last few words of what they said, replacing great master with thunderbolt master.
The abbot looked as if in deep contemplation. Raxri felt the hair on the nape of their neck rise, as if in surprise or in fear. Goosebumps ran up the side of their hand. The Abbot had entered Pure Contemplation, their eyes unfocused and half-closed, as if sleepy. The smell of smoke intensified into flame.
The Abbot spoke. Wind flurried through them. The smell of fire was immediately replaced with the smell of peaches and apples and other fresh, sugary fruits.
"It has been about a decade since I''ve last seen you, Raxri Uttara," said the Abbot, smiling ever so mischievously. "And even then, you were but 12 harvests old... A child you were, yet you moved with the strength and surety of someone thrice your age, and your innocence, imbued with the Law''s teachings at such a young age, only produced extravagant amounts of enlightenment-mind. You were a promising individual, and you came in here alone. The one companion you did have chose to stay outside of the monastery for reasons yet unknown to me.
"If you awakened in the Vault of Souls, then that means only two things: you were killed and thrown into that pit. And you miraculously landed upon the Well of Peisajekuru, the Healing Buddha. This healed your wounds quickly enough so that you did not die. Unfortunately, not quickly enough to avoid death''s marring."
The statue of the Heruka scowled further, as if in indignation at this immoral act. At the same time, it felt as if it had been scowling the same intensity all this time, as if to say it knew why and what happened to Raxri Uttara.
Nevertheless...
"Thank you, venerable one," Raxri managed to say.
"Few are so lucky," said the Abbot. "Be it destiny or machination of certain karma... you have been wronged all the same. Compassion to you: AHOM ARU TEMA PEMI HOMA." And then the Abbot bowed their head while performing a mouth reverence.
Not really knowing what that meant, Raxri went along with it, also bowing performing the mouth reverence. Yiwaritala noticed Raxri''s state of ignorance and said, "That mantra is the Ultimate Compassion Mantra. When uttered to yourself or for others, it fills their hearts and minds with compassion, granting them great benefit when facing the world."
Raxri nodded, mouth slightly agape. Partly in understanding, partly in wandering, partly lost.
The Abbot turned to Yiwaritala. "The witch Akazha was the one that sowed discord in the community, am I correct?"
Yiwaritala nodded. The sense of Pure Contemplation was gone now. The scent returned to the overpowering aroma of incense. "The one that..."
"The witch that almost got you, my dear disciple, to break your vows," finished the Abbot. "Am I correct?"
"Y-Yes."
The abbot smiled. "It would not be so much a great loss to you if she is the reason why your time in the monastery is to end. You can practice the Law even outside monkhood. Ordination is not a prerequisite for enlightenment! It is but a contrivance for sudden Liberation. As a great sage once said, all things can be conjoined."
Yiwaritala bowed deeply. They hid a face burning bright pink, but also a conviction that flamed even brighter. "I thank the abbot for their consideration and guidance, but my life as a monk is ever greater than the wiles of a lady."
"No doubt you arrived here thinking that that witch is attempting to sow more discord here by sending this lowly memoryless wanderer. Am I right in thinking so, Yiwaritala?"
Yiwaritala''s eyes widened to giant holes. A chill ran through them: it was as if his mind had been read completely. "Th-that is correct, thunderbolt master."
"Hm... well I can only vouch for the witch Akazha. She is on the path to liberation all the same, no more different than us. All that is different is the path she chose to tread. The Charnel Path of Wizardry and Mysticism... the most dangerous path to Enightenment."
Yiwaritala looked at the abbot, eyebrows furrowed. "Is this truly what the Buddhas have taught? Can such practitioners of the black arts be legible for the thunderbolt awakening?"
The abbot bowed deeply. "You must remember that the founder of our method of the Law, Dattreya Wairini Buddha, was herself a hardened mystic and wizard, who reached deep down into her Buddha Nature through magick rituals... This Dattreya Wairini that was prophesied by the Tutelary Buddha of this world. You would think yourself to know more than they?"
"N-No! Of course not!" And Yiwaritala bowed deeply. "Forgive your insolent student."
The abbot watched him deeply. Raxri blinked, watching, silent. "Our path requireth no faith for its consummation, but requireth faith for its foundation. All things you will understand under your reason, but until you gain the gnosis for proper logic, you will have to rely on the faith of the teachings of the Law. Do you understand this, dearest disciple?" The abbot spoke with a tone not like a mother nor like a teacher, but like a friend trying to instill some sort of understanding in a fellow friend. To this, Raxri''s heart was set ablaze.
"Was the witch one of your disciples as well, venerable one?" asked Raxri.
The abbot nodded and answered: "For a short while, until the venerable Tala Buddha unveiled herself to Akazha in a dream, and she set down the Charnel Path of Wizardry to cultivate Enlightenment and Liberation. Immortality beyond immortality. This path is something I do not teach, and it is a path that requires momentous amount of self-discovery. And so she left, though close enough yet to the monastery."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Raxri spoke without thinking: "How did she sow discord among the monks, master?" The second the words left their mouth they moved their hand and covered it.
The abbot smiled, bemused. "Sometimes I am ashamed at the ease at which she accomplished this. Was my teaching not enough? Was my teaching lacking? In Contemplation I found this nothing more than a trial. You one and all are responsible for your own enlightenment, for it is in the effort of each individual, in concert with other individuals, that one can truly attain Liberation for all Beings. I saw then that it was really more of a practice of who bit first, as the immortal peach falleth from the tree. Every moon she had arrived here to get her tattoos properly done by our resident tattoo monk. They have settled here in the End of the World for a reason. Akazha sought to have her body covered in yantra tattoos, to allow her protection and to strengthen he rmagick and meditation. We allowed it: she was true in her faith in the Law. Unfortunately, Akazha was of great earthly beauty--from where she attained it, some say it was from a demonic pact, others say this was a consequent of a magick veil, even others say that she bore the blood of an imbuk."
Raxri raised a hand abruptly. "Imbuk?"
Yiwaritala answered for the abbot, and Raxri leaned close to listen: "Ah, an ancient ancient word for the gods that stay here, in the earthly realms."
"Ahhh..." Raxri leaned away. The tellurians that Jikajika had taught me about. Raxri turned their attention to the abbot again.
"Eventually, she managed to capture the hearts of the monks here. Again, no doubt a trial for the austerities and resolves of the monks that stayed here. She did not seduce more than three, and in the end it was only one that almost left with her, so enthralled was he by her power." The abbot then looked at Yiwaritala.
Yiwaritala burned a bright red.
Raxri turned to Yiwaritala. Then laughed. "Speak you true, thunderbolt master? The great monk here, clad in austerities... he''s the man the witch Akazha almost seduced wholly?" Raxri laughed even louder.
The abbot laughed, softly. "It almost caused a rift among the entire community, though it was no fault of Akazha. She did nothing on purpose. A now excommunicated monk, once my greatest disciple, sowed the seeds of competition that forced the monks to fight over Akazha. They are gone now, and Yiwaritala here stands in his place as my left hand."
Yiwaritala was doing all he could to look away without changing their sitting posture. Now he burned a true bright red, more easily seen now as the cold wind chilled the air even more. Raxri kept laughing, and even placed his hand upon Yiwaritala in mock pity. "Oh, monk. It is okay."
Yiwaritala harrumphed and twisted his body to force Raxri''s hand away. Raxri could only laugh.
The laughing reverberated into the night.
Eventually, the abbot said: "You are no doubt tired from your journeys and from your revelations. It would do you good to rest, I would think."
Raxri bowed deeply. They were, in truth, extremely tired. They could feel the bags under their eyes weigh them down. "If it''s not too much trouble for the venerable one, of course!"
The abbot gestured to Yiwaritala, and the monk bowed and rose to his feet. "We have prepared a guestroom in our guesthouse for you. Come. It is only right that you rest."
The abbot said, as Raxri rose: "Is this all you wish to glean from your visit here? A paltry answer about your probable past?"
Raxri opened their mouth excitedly: "Ah! Well, master Akazha had told me that perhaps you could teach me the ways of the Infinite Law, and the Adamantine Path, and perhaps even the Thunderbolt Staff!
A moment of silence.
Then, the abbot laughed and nodded. "We shall contemplate on it."
And with that, Yiwaritala gestured for Raxri to follow. Raxri turned and bowed to the Abbot. "Thank you, thunderbolt master." The Abbot bowed back to him, and then they followed Yiwaritala.
They walked across the great courtyard as the cold night wind danced. It was common knowledge that the cold winds prefer to dance at night, due to their life-long hatred of the Blasted Sun''s Blazing Armies. The cold winds prefer to lie low, within shades and shadows, or as already said, the night.
Of course, the higher one proceeds up the realms of the sky, the colder it becomes, despite the Blasted Sun. This is because the gods of the sky are cold themselves--in truth, almost every god and spirit is categorically cold. This is a truth of their aggregation, and it is this way because every world system begins cold. Humans are therefore anathema to the spirits because they are warm and hot, possessing, spiritually, a Heart of Fire. A Furnace of Sapi.
As they walked, Raxri couldn''t help but admire the great statue of Tala Buddha. Its serene, half-lidded eyes of course spoke of Cessation, of that thing when one ceases one''s delusion and attains Enlightenment Beyond Enlightenment. However, the way the half-lidded eyes were carved made it seem like Tala Buddha was staring at Raxri and everyone else at the same time, no matter where they moved.
I suppose it''s because the Tala Buddha is an All Seeing Compassionate One, Raxri conjectured, completely out of their ass, deduced from contextual clues and all the other teachings they had been taught.
A question naturally arose in Raxri''s churning thoughts. "Monk Yiwaritala, may I ask...?"
"Yes?"
"The statue within the meditation house... who is it? Or what is it? From his visage he seems to be some kind of demon king... some sort of destroyer of great broods and meritorious armies."
Yiwaritala cocked his head to the side and thought for a few steps. Then, he said, without stopping walking: "They were one of the many manifestations of Primeval Buddha, the Ultimate Who Looks Upon The World, known as Airotsana Murat. His wrathful manifestation is someone we know and revere as the Scarlet Buddha, also known as the Termagant Buddha. In elder Karitan, Ksewran Murat. Murat is the ancient ritual word for Buddha, while Ksewran is the ancient name for the Scarlet God."
"The Scarlet God...?" Raxri remembered Ngura, who led those bandits that attacked Akazha.
Yiwaritala inhaled. "Right, you''ve lost all your memory." The monk sighed. "Then you must know that the most common faith here in the Utter Islands is the Cult of the Scarlet God, other than the Liberation Law. Scarlet God devotees devotees believe their great Scarlet God Ksewran to be the Absolute Reality, and that all things eventually return to him through austerity and devotion, liberating themselves from this world of illusion and being subsumed into Ultima Bliss within the Scarlet God''s essence.
"The Infinite Law is the greater version of Liberation Law. It is the teaching that deals with the emancipation of the masses. The Infinite Law is a modified version of the Liberation Law: the Liberation Law teaches only the Buddhahood for one''s self. The Infinite Law teaches Buddhahood for the benefit of all sentient beings. That is the Law that has become the most popular here in the Utter Islands, for it encompasses all beings. It became a revolutionary religion amongst the proletariat, who fought for emancipation across the entire world.
"Now you see, many people naturally believe in the Scarlet God. This is a natural consequent of the human experience: it is easiest to think that there is an intelligence, not unlike us, that we shall return to. As you can see, the world is not a nice place. Nature... it cares not for us. It is abundant and nourishing but it does not give us everything we ever want. That is not their goal. Their goal is to provide living, living, living. But humans... we seek flourishing.
"In an ancient scripture the Tutelary Buddha of this world, Kitama Sanjah Murat, it was written that two cycles from their Ultima Extinction--that is, Extinction After Death, without residue. Wakoss Zang Wakoss in Karitan... Ultimation of Ultimation."
"Uh-huh. Uh-huh." Raxri followed not, unfortunately. But they will understand later, they knew. Even know they could feel Yiwaritala''s words sinking deep and impaling themselves upon the blades of Raxri''s subconscious.
"Yes," continued Yiwaritala, as they crossed the stone grounds of the courtyard. "Two cycles from Kitama Sanjah Murat''s Wakoss Zang Wakoss there arose a great Adamant Blade Wielder, who seized and subjugated the powerful Ksewran in a universal war known as the One Million Thunderclap Conflict. The Adamant Blade Wielder, who was a Bodhisattva in truth, won the battle and promised to cease the Scarlet God''s annihilation if they listened to the teachings of the Buddhas and the Law. The Scarlet God acquiesced, and at the end of it, took refuge within the Tristones.
"A few cycles after that, the Scarlet God managed to dedicate themselves completely to the Law, performing a large number of enlightenment rituals. When the Scarlet God passed--as all gods do--they did so with ultimate understanding, and thus they did also attain Ultima Extinction. The Scarlet God was Buddha. Scarlet God Buddha, Ksewran Murat, Termagant Buddha. They realized their utter non-duality with emptiness, and it became known that the Scarlet God Buddha all this time was a wrathful manifestation of great Primeval Buddha, who dedicated themselves to showing one of the greatest compassions: that a god full of hubris and murderous intent can still yet attain enlightenment through the Law, and find compassion from the carnage."
"I see. So..." Raxri turned around to look at the meditation house again. They could still see one of the armored parts of the warrior Buddha. "Essentially, the Scarlet God converted and then attained Enlightenment, became Buddha, and then became the wrathful manifestation of Primeval Buddha...?"
"Close. They''ve always been a wrathful manifestation, but they also became one."
Raxri punched their head. "Realization yet eludes my grasp!"
"To think beyond dualities is one of the reasons for studying and training in a monastery, Raxri Uttara. Perhaps if the head abbot deems it fit... and possess you that same virtuous obssession... you might be able to study yourself here, for a time."
Raxri thought about it for a moment. Then, they said: "I think that would be most appreciated from this student. Ever I chase for new knowledges and new understandings. And even better ways of honing my martial arts!"
At that last bit, Yiwaritala''s eyes became a piercing glare, not unlike that of a dragon. Raxri shivered, but Yiwaritala never continued. They looked away and kept walking. [1.20] Thousand Bodhisattva Vow
In the middle of this universe is the great holy mountain Mount Dakmala, the center of the world. The Mountain Dakmala is made of the strongest stone and otherworldly iron. It is 80,000 yojanas tall and 80,000 yojanas deep below sea level. It is the nail of the world: the four other continents are pinned down to it. Mount Dakmala has never been actually seen, other than by those truly Awakened. It is surrounded by the Circular Mountain: a ring of iron mountains that protect it. Another ring of Elder Iron mountains encircles the entirety of the Four Oceans. There are 12 Continents in all in the Lotus Realm. Four Great Continents shaped like a petal and placed on each cardinal direction, and each four great continent has two orbiting continents. Hri Madalaya''s "A Treatise On This Spirit World''s Cosmogony"
The Boarding House stood tallest in the monastery compound, built against the walls of the mountain. It had four roofs, which denoted three separate levels. Its roofs flanged open, had crests that curved up and out from each corner, the tips of their wood were carved into draconic shapes. The roof itself sloped steeply, heavily gabled, and these ones were made of adobe instead of the usual lighter cogon, bamboo, or wood that would be common in lowland societies, where hot spirits, water spirits, and hot wind spirits ruled and danced.
As they entered, a pair of exiting nuns bowed to both Yiwaritala and Raxri. They returned the mouth reverence. When they were far enough past them, the two nuns giggled, and then continued to talk.
"Follow me, dear Raxri. The guest rooms are on the first level, so as to not inconvenience them." Yiwaritala led Raxri past a room held steadfast with 16 thick hardwood pillars, with the same engravings of story and myth into them. Demigods wielding bows of light, octopus monsters fighting with eight different weapons, compassionate Arhats stopping great demon elephants and corrupted crocodiles from destroying entire villages and cities. All of these showcasing great strengths and powers above all else. All of these symbols of the culture of the monks. And not even that, they were symbols of the cultures of the surrounding areas, for the Infinite Law never erases, only builds upon.
The floor was made of bamboo slats, though somehow lacquered and layered. As with almost every other house in the Utter Islands, getting into the house required climbing a set of stairs that led to a front elevated porch. Raxri couldn''t see anything from the first floor, no seams in the slats to see what they kept underneath, whether it was livestock or something else.
Upon the floor were set up woven sleeping mats, most of them made of palm leaves, dyed with the colors indigo, scarlet, white, gold, and black. In truth, almost every corner of the monastery was wrapped in some sort of streaker or banneret that had those five colors. These sleeping mats also had a single sheet of tie-dyed cloth set on top of them, and then two pairs of pillows with bushy down. No mosquito net for each, but Raxri concluded that high up here the mosquitos were probably more sparse.
The smell of incense was much weaker here. Instead, it smelled like fresh laundry, a strong generic floral scent that eased the mind. They used a different kind of flower or precious stone for their fresh clothes here. Raxri wondered where they washed their clothes here. Though it being a mountain, no doubt a source for one of the many rivers began from here.
Eventually they crossed the entirety of the floor, at the end of which there were two lotus-shaped incense bowls, set in front of statues of the Four-Armed Buddha, looking with true serenity upon their eyes.
Yiwaritala opened a woven palm door that led into a very spacious room, cozy, with a very comfortable mattress set on the floor atop the handwoven sleeping mat. It was much larger than the blankets afforded the ascetics outside, and it was neatly folded with its own multi-colored blanket and two rectangular pillars of woven silk. On top of that, it was wrapped in a mosquito net made colored bright white!
"Please, make yourself at home here. Do not hesitate to ask one of the monks for tea if one wishes."
"A-ah. Yes. Thank you." _This place does look way too comfortable compared to what everyone else is sleeping on. There must be some kind of mistake. "_Monk Yiwaritala, if it''s all right to ask. That bed looks much too comfortable... I''m no king or prince!"
"Ah, worry not, student Raxri," replied Yiwaritala. "All monks must practice these austerities to help them along their Realization Path. You are a guest, and so you must rest comfortably, here. Worry about it not, you trouble no one, in truth."
Raxri bowed by their waist and bit their lip. "Thank you..."
"Cast aside your worries, warrior. Ah, one last thing, Raxri Uttara, before I leave."
"Hm?" Raxri stood.
"What do you think power is?"
"Power?" Raxri looked to the ceiling. "I''ve... never thought much about it before. I wish I could say something smarter."
"Do you think you gain power by mastering martial arts, so you can subjugate others under your will?"
"U-uh..." In truth, Raxri truly hadn''t thought about it much before. Martial arts... it was something they knew they needed in this Latter Day of the Law, where banditry and violence run rampant, wielded not by enlightened beings but as a crude tool by the basest of men. "I... seek the martial arts so that I can protect those I care about."
"That is power yet, would you not agree?" asked Yiwaritala. At that moment, Yiwaritala felt taller. His psychic immensity dwarfed Raxri''s nigh ignorant thinking. "To protect those you care about is to wield the will of vanguard. To wield the will of vanguard is to subjugate the will of the spear against you and yours'' flesh. So you seek power for your own means?"
Raxri bent their head to the side. They couldn''t answer. They felt that if they said yes, they were committing a major moral fault. Especially here in a monastery. Though, of course, at that moment, Raxri knew almost nothing about the true tenets of the Liberation Law that permeates every function of the double-reality.
And so Raxri said: "I... have no knowledge, in truth."
There was an air of disappointment radiating off of Yiwaritala''s gaze. "Very well. Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable. Have a good sleep. Beautiful evening." And then Yiwaritala closed the door.
Raxri made a face and then shrugged. "Strange." They turned around and removed their cloak and their sarong, wearing only their bahag.
The cold night air here was far far colder than the cold night air down upon Akazha''s. A chill resided here, almost sinister.
Raxri was not used to it: they had gotten accustomed to the heat and humidity, adapted to it. Learned to love the benefits of humidity upon the skin constantly keeping it looking young. The intermingling of the sun''s heat and general warm earth with the chill of the winds that ran through them, sometimes mixed with the sudden rains that brought even more coolness to the environment.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
It was a delicate interplay of balance. It was one that reminded the humans that lived there that the world was not made for them.
Truly, this world is not made for us. We only borrow our lands here in the world of spirits, cursed with limited sight of the very beings that dance about us all around due to our baser enlightenments.
Raxri sat on the bed. They looked about, realizing then and there that they did not have electricity in the monastery. Candles and lamps lit the night. Interesting. So not every place is powered in this world.
They wrapped heavy cloth cotton blanket around them. It soothed their skin, warmed them. I have to wake early at dawn, thought Raxri. I need to shower. Though the relative coolness of the mountaintops prevented too much sweat from pooling about their cavities, they still longed for the freshness that soaking in waater and scrubbing themself brought.
The telltale smell of lively trees and healthy soils danced about and intermingled with the light aromas of the incense that sat within a lotus shaped incense bowl, set atop a low table beside Raxri''s bed.
Outside the window, Raxri saw the great Godtree. Its silvered leaves beamed down upon the world. Its strange, iridescent bones made it look like a streak of titanic lightning, slowly coming down from the sky and spreading across the earth. Never to dissipate, never to finish its strike. There to ever be a sign of the end. Or perhaps, of the beginning? Fires begin from lightning strikes. Soil is nourished by lightning strikes.
A shadow flew across the iridescence of the Godtree. Long and slender, a river sailing across the sky. Upon closer inspection, this river had multiple branches emanating from it, like streamers or floating sashes. Upon even closer inspection, Raxri could make out that it was some sort of dragon, now rushing across the world. Its eyes glinted as it realized something was watching it. Its draconic eyes sighted Raxri a multiple dragon lengths away.
Raxri, wishing not to offend the great dragon, performed the crown obeisance. When they looked up, the dragon had flown off, to trounce and splash among the clouds.
Then, Raxri heard the howl.
Something jolted them awake immediately: The dog demons... they wish to strike the monastery... Though Raxri''s anxieties immediately calmed when they realized they''d beaten back a good chunk of them. They''ll have plenty of time to inform the abbot of this.
They lay down, and chose to sleep. At first it was mighty difficult. But when they focused on the wisping smoke that arose from the incenses, carrying thoughts and prayers to the heavens where the bliss gods lay... they dozed off quickly enough.
In the great mist of the night, as the last few incenses burnt out... the great head abbot Wairojashra of Giant Stone Monastery rose to his feet after having finished his austerities. Having been so deeply entrenched in the Monastic Path, they required much less sleep than the usual wanderer. Using lotus lights, he slept far later: at the zenith of the moon, when most would sleep at the first sight of it, and wake before the sun even rises.
After he performed his triple prostrations to the great Termagant Buddha, Yiwaritala appeared behind him. Yiwaritala had always been the Head Abbot''s Left Hand Man, his closest secretary. When he arrived, the head abbot turned, still with that serene look on his face. He smiled slightly.
"What shall we do with Raxri Uttara, master?"
Walking out of the meditation house, he said, "There is a great reserve of accumulation within them. They are still on the path, but without their memory, they will wither upon it. They will reap the fruits of their merits and karma, but they will not understand it."
"Does the great teacher believe that that Raxri Uttara they once met is still the Raxri Uttara now?"
Head Abbot Wairojashra stopped beside Yiwaritala and gestured for him to walk with him. They did, performing the last few rounds making sure that the monastery was safe and secure, locking doors and replacing the beams across the gates.
"Nay, dear student. They are no longer that Raxri Uttara. But it is in the void where enlightenment resides. This Raxri Uttara... guidance might just be their salvation. Instead of stepping into the river to enlightenment, they can ride the lightning to Extinction."
The next day, Raxri was awoken into darkness.
"What--"
The door had swung open, and Yiwaritala was there, still clad in his monk robes. He said: "Forgive me, dear Raxri Uttara. But the abbot wishes to speak with you."
Raxri rubbed the night dirt out of their eyes. They felt like they had slept enough anyways. Raxri nodded and said, "I shall get changed."
Yiwaritala entered into the door and placed a neatly folded stack of clothes in front of them. "You will be wearing these."
"A-Ah. I see. Many thanks." Raxri bowed.
"It would do you well to bathe before you change. The mountain stream is just behind this house, there is a door here that will lead you there. Tarry not too long, this is of great import."
Raxri swallowed and bowed again. Yiwaritala left.
"Huh." Raxri sighed. Sudden, but I suppose enlightening enough. The stack of clothes before them seemed to be monk''s robes. Though these were not colored the bright scarlet that Yiwaritala bore. These were a set of loose-fitting sarouels, reed slippers, a sleeveless tunic, and then an undyed gray robe to wrap it all about them. Raxri was thankful for this, as the cold of the mountain would''ve made moving without the warmth of a robe almost debilitating.
Raxri removed their own robes and tunic and pulled up their sarong so that it covered them from their chest down. There was a fresh cloth towel there as well, which they took. They walked out of their room door, and immediately to their right was another set of large, swinging doors.
Raxri went out of that door which led to the open air back of the house, which also just so happened to be where streams from the mountaintops flowed down to. There were other early riser students here that were now bathing, though they bathed farther away from the mountaintop.
Raxri noticed then that there were two baths: one closer to the house, where no steam arose from. Then another further from the house, following down a set of stone stairs carved onto the soil, that led to a small grove of bamboos. That one was a hot spring, Raxri noticed. And that was why the majority of the students were bathing there: it was too cold to bathe in the cold spring at this time of morning!
The night sky was the color of brightening indigo, as the sun slowly rode its chariot above the sky. The smell of morning dew was overpowering, and somewhat lulled Raxri to even more sleep. They fought it off, however, as they descended down the stairs and into the steamy hot springs.
The hot springs area had multiple different pools, at least 8, each one with a floral aroma. It was as if the water itself was suffused with a certain cleansing, good-smelling quality. Though there were students here now, there wasn''t too many that Raxri was struck by shyness. They removed their sarong and descended into the waters, rinsing themselves.
Nearby, a smoothened piece of pumice was there to be used by those bathing. Raxri took one and scrubbed off the dirt they had accumulated from their travels. They also twisted and wrapped and suffused their cloud-hair with fragrant oils, imbuing them with an irresistible, vanilla-flower fragrance.
As they bathed, Raxri noticed that there was no splitting between the sexes here. The bald male monks bathed nearby the bald female monks, without any dividers. Raxri decided that it was just as well: it would be a testament to their enlightenment and practice to have such a setup. A testament true to the culture of their monastery.
Raxri also noticed that the students didn''t relax in the baths. All they did was the absolute minimum they needed to do to clean themselves, oil themselves, scrub off their dirt and soften their skin. Then, they would immediately rise and cover themselves in their towels and textiles and then immediately leave. The curriculum here had to have been strict.
Raxri smiled. No way were they going to last here. It''s a good thing I''m not becoming a monk, then.
Raxri returned smelling great. The fresh and clean air of the mountain only strengthened their smell. In truth, the resting house itself smelled "holy". It was the mix of jasmines, vanillas, and incense smells that infused it with a certain pure property. It felt as if every step you took, you were stepping upon a realm of a buddha.
Raxri dressed. The monk''s robes fit perfectly. A little bit too perfectly. They used a string to tie their hair into a chignon on top of their head. Raxri decided to leave their items and belongings within this guesthouse, seeing as it would''ve been too clunky and heavy to bring anyway. And in truth, it wasn''t much. Now that their longknife had been destroyed, they had almost nothing to their name other than a few pieces of food and their clothings. They left behind their salakot and textile robe. They had a good feeling that they would return here.
With everything ready, they set off. [1.21] Gods-Cutting Emptiness Guillotine
Thus I have heard: there are a million streams into the near shores to the Ocean of Enlightenment. Some are tributaries, others are rivers. Some are false, some lead into lakes. Joining the proper stream is important, disciples. That is the necessity of a master. Kindred Sayings Sutra
The sun burned the night sky into silver. In its own cursed way, it heralded the dawn. In fear, the cocks crowed, tearing through the silence. Even in the monastery, the omnipresence of the crow was to be applauded. Despite this, the crows were far, deep in the jungle. No doubt they were jungle fowl.
And so they followed the Forest''s Laws. And so they revered the enlightenment of the Buddhas.
The monastery was not abuzz at this time, not just yet. Raxri determined that it was still a bit earlier than the usual wakening time. But now, there were already a surplus of students already milling to and fro, going to their assigned stations, reading their sutras. To be in an environment that encouraged only the practice toward liberation... the students here valued their time.
Raxri couldn''t help but notice that a good mix of people were here. There was a good mix of monks and nuns. Some were corpulent, others were stick thin. Others were pale, as if chilled to the bone, others were the beautiful darkness of night, though most were that standard color of wood bark. Others were built like athletes, others were built like bandits. Some of them were missing teeth, others had teeth blackened, others had teeth plated with gold. Some of them seemed to walk with the yet unforgotten grace of a noble, others walked with the humility of a servant, others with the braggadocio of a beggar.
All of them wore robes of varying degrees of color. Many of them wore the signature scarlet, some wore a bright saffron color. Others wore the same monochrome gray that Raxri themself wore at that moment. They set about to inquire about this color ranking with the abbot.
Inside the meditation house, monks and nuns had already begun their austerities. Bowing thrice, and then sitting on floor cushions and assuming various sitting positions, with hands in various mudras. Palm leaf manuscripts of the prayers and scriptures laid in front of them upon their wooden table. They chanted a mantra in chorus. The Great Light Prayer, which asked the Illumination to turn the chanter into a being of pure light so that they may explore the bounds of non-existence, and so that they can become ever closer to the blazing realization of Buddhahood.
To Raxri, it was just interesting chanting in chorus with little gongs that were struck to make sounds like a xylophone. In conjunction with the tranquility of the morning, the chants pierced Raxri''s very core, and they almost felt bad for not kowtowing at that moment to the Buddhas.
Yiwaritala and Head Abbot Wairojashra were there at that moment, seemingly waiting for Raxri. When they spotted Raxri, they nodded and approached.
"Follow us," said Yiwaritala, and Raxri did so.
They ventured out of the monastery itself, walking around the mountain side for a good few minutes. The air here was still so cool. Raxri held onto their gray robe as they walked. At times Raxri was sure they would slip and fall down the side of the mountain, but no. This mountain path was well trodden. In fact, Raxri conjenctured that it was carved onto the side of the mountain for the monks themselves.
They were silent all the while. With every step they took, a gravity clad Raxri. They felt as though they were walking into their own grave.
They arrived at another grove of bamboos and trees that grottoed away three mountain streams that joined to become a slight river. The land here was solid: they had placed stones about this very place. A spirit shrine stood at the edge of the stone platform. It was decorated with very flanged roofs, made to look like it was made of solid fire. Within it was a bronze statue of the Scarlet Buddha. It was placed in the middle of a mandala, and at the southern edge of the mandala was a porcelain plate, where incense, jasmines, and uncooked rice grains were offered.
Yiwaritala and the Abbot performed three crown reverences to the spirit shrine. Raxri couldn''t help but do the same. Then, the Abbot said: "Raxri Uttara."
Raxri bowed to the abbot as well. "Y-Yes, abbot."
"Let us sit."
And so they did. There were patches of soft grass here. The bamboos and trees provided a thick canopy against the rising morning sun.
As the three of them sat, the abbot said: "You do not remember who you are in truth."
Raxri nodded. "I would never lie to the abbot, of one so committed to the Law."
"If this be the full truth, then understand you this. You are no longer that Raxri Uttara."
Raxri was quiet. They waited for the abbot to follow up their statement.
"Have you made peace with this?"
Raxri nodded. Whether it was true or not didn''t matter to them. They had to make peace with the fact whether they liked it or not.
"Good. Then you must become a new Raxri Uttara. Do you understand? Void of your past accomplishments, void of your past accumulations, of your past cultivations. Are you willing, now, to start from the beginning? That long journey across the wheel? The Royal Road of Enlightenment?"
Raxri nodded again. "I would want no other way."
"It will be a long and arduous road. You will have to travel across the islands. Find your past masters, or find new ones, and ask for the transmission of their powers once again. Only then will you grow your capability. Only then will you become greater than the Raxri Uttara that you were before."
Raxri kept nodding. "I will!" I have no other choice. I must do this.
"Tell me, then," said the Abbot. As they spoke, their voice seemed to echo, to cry out from every direction, crying upon the thousand winds that wound about them. The little gods and spirits that watched them at that moment seemed to cry out every Abbot''s word, as if in echo. More than mere punctuation, more than mere divinity. "What spurs you on?"This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
But it was not the abbot''s voice.
Raxri looked up at the Abbot. Instead of the Abbot, however, they saw a God of Gods. A wild-eyed, grinning being with the skin the color of the night, hair trailing behind them gloriously. A tigerskin pelt wrapped around their waist, their tunic reached the ground. Their third eye stared and pierced Raxri''s very being. In one hand they wielded frozen lightning, held fast by a vajra. In the other hand they kept their hand in a mudra. The gods that watched kowtowed.
"Wh-what..."
"What is thy wish? Greater than all obsession, greater than all desire, greater than all ambition! Hm!" They billowed scarlet smoke from their gigantic nostrils. A Thus-Come-And-Gone sat upon a lotus throne, a Lord for all to see. They were flanked by dakinis, heaven dancers watching all about, manifestations of their bladed enlightenment. Their skin was a bright red, their hair the color of bright sapphires. Their eyes danced with enlightenment, and four hands performed a different mudra each. Their furious eyebrows scowling, they screamed at Raxri without moving their mouth. "Speak your reason! If you are to become a God Worshipped by God, your reason must be greater than all lightnings!"
"I... I wish to help all beings!" Razri let the vow flow out of them. "If I were to lose my memory again, then I would want to leave this world having made it better than when I entered it."
"Speak truth!"
"I must save all beings and destroy suffering!"
"AHOM!" Lighting struck from heaven, and ten thousand thunders destroyed the grove all about them. Raxri, at the point of ultimate destruction, was blasted into emptiness.
Raxri couldn''t remember much of emptiness. Other than, of course, Utter Bliss.
When Raxri opened their eyes, they still sat in a lotus position. The abbot and Yiwaritala sat too,meditating with half-lidded eyes.
When they saw Raxri had roused, the Abbot smiled. "Good. With a reason so noble... It was to be expected from Raxri Uttara. A shadow yet resides within you."
Raxri''s throat was parched. It was as if they drank fire. "B-But... w-what was that?"
The abbot smiled kindly. "A glimpse into the truth of reality."
Raxri blinked again. "I-I..."
"The less you think about it, the better," interjected Yiwaritala. "Understanding of these things come as you progress on Enlightenment''s rungs."
The abbot nodded. "For now, you have attained a very unique kind of meditation. The visualization. You must climb with us. Until transcension is imminent, and Extinction is close."
The abbot reached into their pocket and pulled out a red stringed necklace with three stones upon it. The stones were uniform in shape and smooth. They looked like teeth in a way. Fangs. Round at the top and then sharp and pointed at the bottom. Each one was colored differently: one was colored a deep blue, another was colored a bright scarlet, and another was colored a pure white.
The abbot gave it to Raxri. They took it with both hands, bowing at the same time.
"These are the Tristones," said the abbot. "Wear it if you wish to step into the Lightning Path and follow the Infinite Law."
"O-oh." They thought. But Raxri had a penchant for ritual all the same, so they said: "Yes. I... wish to step into the Lightning Path."
"Good. Then wear the Tristones and repeat after me." Raxri did so. The abbot took their own tristone necklace and held up the deep blue stone. "I take refuge in the Wisdom of the Buddhas, whose teachings grant Extinction."
Raxri repeated it, staring at the Azure Stone of Wisdom..
The abbot then held up the scarlet stone. "I take refuge in the Strength of the Law, the teachings of which grant final release from suffering."
Raxri repeated it as well, staring now at the Scarlet Stone of Strength.
The abbot finally held up the white stone. "I take refuge in the Compassion of the Community, through whom I practice the Law and glean greater skill."
Raxri repeated that as well, holding up the White Stone of Compassion.
Then the abbot chanted: "HOMAGE TO THE BUDDHA HOMAGE TO THE DHARMA. HOMAGE TOT HE COMMUNE."
Raxri repeated after the abbot those three words. Then repeated it again. Then repeated it again.
After the third, a silence. All the gods that watched them seemed to wait with bated breath. This was all part of the ritual, Raxri knew. And as the silence dragged on, the gravity of their actions weighed upon them, pulling them down, grounding them to the earth.
Then, after a long moment, the abbot spoke: "Those three words make up the Refuge Mantra. If you are ever lost, chant that mantra to reaffirm and realign your thoughts, to pull you back into eternal meditation."
"Thank you, abbot Wairojashra." Raxri bowed. "A weight has been placed upon my shoulders." Raxri bowed the crown reverence at the Abbot. The abbot stopped them.
"I am but a teacher. The Crown Reverence is for the Arhats and the Buddhas. I am a sentient being, just like you. The mouth reverence is all you need."
"I-I see. Forgive me, and thank you for the illumination." Raxri performed the mouth reverence is instead.
"That weight you now carry you have always carried," said the abbot. "You simply remember it now, again. That burden to save all beings and to lessen suffering... That is a duty worth a buddha."
Raxri tilted their head to the side. "Do you not believe it is too grand? Too ambitious? Too haughty?"
The abbot smiled to his eyes, and shook his head. "A grand determination as that is the determination of all Bodhisattvas. To have that as your duty is aligned with the Dharma. You accumulate great karma following this."
"I see."
"If you have any more questions," said Yiwaritala. "Now would be the best time for them, while you have the abbot alone."
"O-oh! Okay. If it be all right with the Thunderbolt Master... why do you speak of Extinction?"
The abbot bowed and said: "Extinction is the ultimate goal of all beings. Extinction of attachments, of unwholesome desire, of disastrous passions, aversion, ignorance. Extinction of the very things that binds the mindstream to suffering. The very things that deludes one, and causes arising, which causes suffering."
"It is not Liberation?"
"Extinction, Cessation, Dissolution, Liberation, Enlightenment... as with everything in this world, they are but different words and different means to the Ultime Reality. They are the answer all the same."
"Ultimate reality?"
"Emptiness. That is, the state of being Buddha, touching finally your own Buddha-Nature. In so doing, you turn the world from suffering into flourishing."
"Is this what the witch Akazha meant when she said that Extinction and Suffering are in truth one and the same?"
The abbot smiled. Yiwaritala''s eyebrows furrowed. The abbot made sure to sneak a glance at Yiwaritala. Then, he said: "That is truth, but stating that without the proper context, initiation, and understanding will lead to horribly wrong views. Do not meditate upon that truth just yet. We will get there."
"I see."
The abbot continued: "The core of the Anantadharma, the Infinite Law, is as follows: "
"Everything is temporary.
"Clinging to temporary things is suffering.
"This suffering can be severed from you by letting go of clinging.
"The blade that can cut this is Enlightenment.
"Enlightenment is understanding the Emptiness of the world.
"In understanding the world one attains Extinction. There are a million paths to this enlightenment, for in the understanding of Emptiness one realizes the truth of all things. They are all threads spun upon the same loom."
Raxri ruminated on this for a moment. They thought long and hard if they had any questions. "By removing clinging, one is severed from suffering?"
The abbot nodded. "And one then becomes a liberated being... though there are many varieties of liberated beings. None of them are greater than the other, they are all states of Extinction all the same."
Yiwaritala shook his head. "You would do well not to worry yourself about the metaphysics of Extinction. At least, not yet. Start small, start from the beginning."
"Tell me, o Thunderbolt Master," pleaded Raxri. "What are the rungs of the Thunderbolt Ladder, that I may learn how to climb them?"
The abbot smiled. "Visualize the thunderbolt." They chanted a mantra--
--lightning crashed beside the abbot. [1.22] Fulminate! The Levin Will!
The vajra is the ancient thunderbolt. It is a seal of power from the greatest of kings. The god of gods. It means, all at once, thunderbolt and diamond. It is both unsurpassable, unblockable, and indestructible. That is the basis of our path. From Teachings of Garo Sanghao
Raxri jumped, scared, screaming.
Abbot Wairojashra, however, caught the lightning before it struck the ground. The lightning writhed white hot in the abbot''s grasp. A fulgurous serpent. The lightning snake extended all the way to the clouds.
"Now the lesson begins. This sermon shall teach you the Flower Path of Enlightenment."
The abbot pointed at the earth where the lightning almost touched, but never did.
"The basal level is there. The earth, so close to the fulgurs of the Thunderbolt Path, but never yet.
"The Adamantine Path--it is important to know that the other name for the Adamantine Path is the Thunderbolt Path--calls this level the Dirt Level. The Dirt Level is the realm everyone is born into, especially those pakta hungry ghosts and the hell-beings. Both commoner and king are of the Dirt Level, if they''ve never cultivated themselves. Their control of Nihawa is basal. That is to say, they only have rudimentary control of it. In other words, they know how to move and breathe and live. Even those in the Dirt Level can find enlightenment, but it will take them multiple lifetimes.
"Now it must be said: traveling up the Thunderbolt Path is not a requisite for enlightenment. It is but one path among many. It is but one cultivation method over many. The lands speak of Soul Refinement Cultivation, All-Love Poetry Cultivation, Uncreated Light Suffusion Cultivation, Chakra Nondualism Cultivation, Ancestral Wisdom Cultivation, and there are yet a thousand more... Why is this so? Why is there so many? Because this world is a world of suffering and delusions, a world of beauty marred by the false consciousnesses of the living beings within it. A thousand thousand sects understand this truth, coming to it from vastly different places.
"They are paths to Emancipation all the same," Raxri said. They breathed, speechless suddenly.
The Thunderbolt Master pointed now at the fulminating light emanated by the tamed lightning. In between the now-charring soil and the crackling tip of the thunderbolt serpent. "Here is the beginning of the Thunderbolt Path. This is where you are. The Shore of Lightning. You have chosen the path of indestructible and irreducible enlightenment, which can come to you suddenly and in a single lifetime. I commend you, for it will not be an easy road. You will shed many things before you might gain them back. Perhaps you already have."
The words lingered for a bit. Raxri looked nervous.
Then, Abbot Wairojashra continued: "This is the Heat Level. In truth the first realm of the First Realm: the Desire Realm. Those in the Desire Realm are weaker than those in the Form Realm. And those in the Form Realm are weaker yet than those in the Formless Realm. Finally, only Buddhas and Bodhisattvas can go past the Formless Realm.
"In the Heat Level you have access to certain realizations about the truth of the world, but it is not complete. You have knowledge, but you will need certain trainings and the Empowerments from Thunderbolt Masters to unlock the special way in which we Adamantines harness Sapi."
The Abbot shifted in his seat and said: "Let me tell you a bit about Sapi. No doubt, the witch Akazha has taught you about meditation and the mystic winds and fires?"
Raxri nodded. "The Sapi as the source of power and the dynamism of all sentient beings, and the Nihawa powers the chakra centers..."
The Abbot nodded approvingly. "There is a deeper understanding however, which is especially potent and important in the Paths to Enlightenment: Sapi is the basic requirement for sentience. Cultivators such as us, then, refine our bodies and minds to be able to harness and manipulate our Sapi and Nihawa. More importantly, we accumulate and cultivate our Sapi. In so doing, we ascend the very rungs of reality. Many gods and sacred beasts are those that have attained certain immortality by cultivating vast amounts of Sapi. Through control of our Sapi, we can perform great feats that would seem to be straight out of a chanter''s sagas."
"I see. Like a true hero," said Raxri.
The abbot smiled, his eyes squinting into slits. "Finally, however, almost every Cultivation harnesses Sapi and Nihawa to some extent. However, and this is importance, Sapi is not our essence--nothing has essence, remember that. We cannot be reduced to our Sapi: Sapi has no identity. Nothing in this world arises independently. Everything is always made of something else.
"Paths of Enlightenment such as ours, however, have a cause for attaining such power. To many Paths of Enlightenment, this is for Liberation, Self-Extinction, Immortality, Grand Unity, Apotheosis, Sagehood, Wizardhood, and more. However, for us in the Anantadharma: our cause is compassion. Our cause is the Emancipation of all sentient beings. As once wished upon by Kafeng Masangwa. Until all beings are free."
"Until... all beings are free..." echoed Raxri.
Yiwaritala chimed in then: "The Bodhisattva Vows, you must know." He turned to the Abbot. The Abbot nodded. Yiwaritala turned to Raxri and said: "It rings as thus:
Though the sentient beings be innumerable, I will save them all.
Though the hatred be inexhaustible, I will break them all.
Though the wisdoms be unaittanable, I will claim them all.
Though Liberation is unsurpassable, I will accomplish it all the same."
Raxri blinked, and then looked in awe at the Abbot. Was this not the very same thing he asked me...?
The abbot nodded. He still grasped the lightning in his hand. The cloud overhead them stood still as though frozen, looking like a great storm god pointing indignation at them. He continued his sermon, "And so, our Cultivation must be suffused with the Compassionate Mind, or the Buddhas Consciousness. If it is not, then you will not truly understand or attain the Greater Mysteries of our Path. You must bear the determination of Unconquerable Compassion to attain the greater Liberation we find."
"So the power I cultivate must be for all sentient beings, and not just for myself?"
The abbot nodded. "The drawback is this will take you longer. We cannot rely on selfish methods for refining our Sapi."Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
"I understand."
The abbot then pointed at the tip of the lightning. "Once you''ve both taken refuge in the Tristones and learned how to tap into your Sapi Furnace, only then shall you be considered as someone stepping upon the Thunderbolt Path. This is the Lightning-Enterer Level, the second Level of the Desire Realm. Here you have enough Sapi to understand and access the mystic martial arts and wizardries of our path. To ascend the various Levels, you need to perform the appropriate Ascension technique, which for us, is a Meditation on the Gods, Bodhisattvas, and Buddhas."
Yiwaritala nodded, inhaling and then exhaling. Raxri looked at him, and then back at the Abbot. "Why is it called the Desire Realm?"
"Here? Because you are bound yet to this world of desires. You gain power because you desire for something, even if that desire is truly benign. It is desire all the same. In the Thunderbolt Path, we do not shirk away from the emotions and passions of the masses. Instead, we embrace it, temper it upon the furnace of enlightenment, and forge it into a tool for Liberation. We begin at the Desire Realm because we must. No ambition for greater compassion will not lead to greater compassion. However, desire must soon be shed, along with faith, and turned into Conviction. Only then will you enter into the Form Realm.
"The Form Realm and the Formless Realm will no doubt be still out of the grasp of your current mental capacities. In a shortened version however... the Form Realm is the Realm of fine materiality. The Form Realm is the Realm of celestines, of supernatural martial artists, of wizards, of sages, of mystics, of gods. Their bodies are of light or of any fashion they wish it to be, and they are living in constant bliss and have no need for coarse foods. Many of them are the very gods that folk worship.
"The Formless Realm is even higher than that, further, atmost. Here even the Light Bodies are turned into nothing but just awareness. Formless Cultivators do not need to manifest bodily in the world to influence it, though if they do they are unbound by the laws of both Heaven and Earth."
"Are the Buddhas in the Formless Realm?" asked Raxri.
The Abbot shook their head. They pointed at the sky. Nowhere near the cloud. "The Buddha are beyond all of this, surpassing all to surpass and are unsurpassable. They commonly manifest bodies in the three realms, however. Once you are liberated, you will no longer be fettered by phenomenal reality. Phenomenal reality will be fettered by you."
"How do I become Buddha?"
"You follow the path. You focus and strengthen yourself." Abbot Wairojashra gestured to the great lightning. "You climb up the path that is not meant to be climbed. You will become Buddha yet, though depending on your method, practice, and determination, what kind of Buddha you will become depends. But remember that Buddhahood is transcension. It is far, far beyond the realm of even the Creator Gods: the gods that create new universes in the trichiliocosm to house more sentient beings."
"What are the three kinds of Buddha, master?" A fire was lit in Raxri''s heart. The questions flowed out of them like a river undammed.
"Concisely, there are the Arhat Buddha, or just Arhats. There are the Jina, or just the Conquerors. And then there are the Bodhisattva, or just Bodhisattvas. Arhats are those that awaken following the teachings of the Law. Conquerers are those that awaken without hearing the teachings of the Law, and they do not leave behind a community, only seeking truly personal Liberation. Bodhisattvas, the most difficult of the three Buddhahoods, are those that seek liberation for all beings, shirking the arrogance of those that seek liberation away from the masses.
"In truth, however, these are all Buddha all the same. Though the various sects and clans of our faiths will quarrel over what each of these mean--and truly some of them do not even believe this to be true!--they are all attainers of the same path with different goals. All of them are the Whorls all the same."
Raxri nodded again, in understanding. Their eyes flickered back to the lightning still in the Abbot''s grasp. They did not seem to be in any way phased by the thousand-suns hot streak that they held in their hands. For a moment, Raxri wondered what realm the great Abbot was in. "Abbot, how does one ascend the realms? I wish to wield my Sapi and cultivate it. I wish the strength to save everyone."
The words of the Mad Fool rung again: Save those that betrayed you.
The abbot smiled and nodded. They pointed at the lightning bolt and said: "Good. Then know this: The first Stage of the Desire Realm, the Mortal Stage, has 12 levels. This is the only realm that has discrete levels. Once you''re passed these, once you''ve Calcified, you will have become a great wielder of Cultivations. It is, however, important to remember that these 12 Levels we''ve codified for this particular Monastery. In the outside world, they might have differing ways of codifying levels. This is all because, in truth, there is no codification of these things. It is a free-for-all for accumulation of greater Sapi. But to help those that otherwise would not be able to cultivate, we follow this:
"First, Soil.
"Second, Heat.
"Third, Lightning-Enterer.
"Fourth, Accumulation.
"Fifth, Emergence.
"Sixth, Refinement.
"Seventh, Fury.
"Eighth, Fulmination.
"Ninth, Signification.
"Tenth, Noble Soul.
"Eleventh, Clarification,
"Twelfth, Calcification.
"These make up the first 12 Levels of the Desire Realm. Many warriors and fighters dance here. The final realm, Calcification, is so called because many of those that attain that level almost never revert or fall back below that level... unless their strength and determination is found wanting. Many warriors reach Calcification after 2 decades. That is the realm of Martial Masters. You must realize, however, that the realm of the Masters is ten thousand times more voluminous than the realm of the students."
"I am in the Heat Level right now," said Raxri, thinking. "Is that right Abbot?"
The Abbot nodded. "And you have great stores of Sapi. Yet untapped. Or perhaps, buried?" The abbot bowed and said, "This is the point where Yiwaritala can show you it much better than I. Yiwaritala? I must perform the obeisance rituals to the mountain gods."
Yiwaritala bowed, performing the mouth reverence to the abbot. The abbot rose, turned, and walked over to the shrine. They began chanting and placing various sacrifices upon the porcelain plate of the altar. Some of them looked like betel nut, others cakes of rice.
Yiwaritala, on the other hand, offered Raxri his hand. "I bid you, dear one. Rise."
"A-ah. Okay." Raxri took Yiwaritala''s hand gingerly. The two of them rose.
"You''ve mentioned that you wanted to train the Thunderbolt Staff, yes?"
Raxri nodded.
"Have you any knowledge of any previous martial arts?"
"The witch Akazha taught me in the fundamentals of the Whorl Hand," replied Raxri.
"So she is your master? She is not exactly the best martial arts master. Her skill in sorceries, however..."
"Yes she is my master.," said Raxri, raising a devious eyebrow. "Would that be a problem?"
"In this Realm Belligerent," said Yiwaritala. "That is to say, the interconnected world culture of martial artists and magicians here in the Utter Islands, it is disrespectful to look for another martial art before your own master has told you to do so. In your case, however, you have been expressly told by the witch Akazha to find us and learn from us. And so we shall take that as her honorable word. You stand at a crossroad, now." Yiwaritala''s already intense eyes intensified only more. "Will you take the ascetic path and become a monk, or will you stay of the laity, and only take what you can?"
Raxri gulped. They didn''t want to be a monk! But that might mean I might learn less, and won''t it be a waste to not learn all I can after having traveled here?! "I''m not sure about the path of the ascetic. I... still need to find out about who I was. Becoming a monk might impede this goal of mine... and I might not be able to help those about me without traveling. I might waste precious years in the monastery!"
There was a hint of offense in Yiwaritala''s eyes. He looked to the abbot, who was still too busy working on the ritual to really offer any advice. Yiwaritala sighed. "Your determination shines through. It is true that taking on the robes will chain you to the monastery until your training is done, and this might take a good few years or so. But your cultivation will be great. Unsurpassable."
Raxri said nothing.
"However, the abbot figured as such. I do not remember what history the Abbot has with the past Raxri Uttara, but they seem to be particularly inclined to help you. And so, I will teach you how to harness your Sapi, how to use it alongside Meditation, how to wield Sapi through the vector of Martial Arts."
Yiwaritala turned to the abbot again.
"Does this mean I will be learning the Thunderbolt Staff?" [1.23] Thunderbolt Shatters The Diamond
The Thunderbolt Series of Martial Arts is not one to take lightly. One cannot risk brisk acceptance into such a tradition. The Thunderbolt Series and the Adamantine Series are two sides of the same coin, taught by the thunderbolt twins Salla and Salalila. One is for annihilation, the other is for eternation. If one learns one but not the other, then one''s learning is incomplete. The middle way mandates that it must be both sides! Treatise on the Diamond Teachings
"Since you chose not to accept the robes, it would be better if you did not learn the Thunderbolt Staff Style just yet. The higher techniques of that martial art is kept secret from those that do not ascend the rungs of Adamantine Monkhood... or from those that are not accomplished Adamantine Mystics. Besides, I am led to believe that you will not stay here for long?"
Raxri nodded. "I must return to Akazha eventually. Working with a witch might help find more elaborations as to my past identity." At least, that''s what they wanted to believe.
"It is a shame the abbot did not know you too personally," said Yiwaritala. "That he might have been able to grant you some measure of remembrance. Alas."
Raxri scratched their head. "So what martial art will you teach me?"
"You''ve mentioned you''re learned of the Whorl Hand?"
Raxri nodded. "Even the blade techniques I performed were just applications of the Whorl Hand empty hand techniques to a blade."
"I see. Show me." And Yiwaritala bent low, in a gauging stance, foot stretched before him as if to taunt.
Raxri understood immediately, though that did not stop the mounting pressure and anxiety. Nevertheless, Raxri went into the same hands-close-to-face posture.
Yiwaritala burst forward; Raxri hesitated.
Yiwaritala''s palm narrowly missed Raxri''s face as they desperately swatted it away with an empty hand parry.
"Focus," snarled the warrior monk. He launched three more punches, in the same whirling, spiraling motion.
Raxri knew this one. They followed the defenses, and successfully diverted the strikes.
Raxri countered: moving forward so that Yiwaritala''s outstretched hand was pinned against their side, Raxri''s elbows struck. Yiwaritala blocked it with his hand. A shockwave thundered from the impact.
"Interesting," said Yiwaritala. "Your meditation is decent. Your Nihawa flurry; your Sapi burns."
Yiwaritala broke off the lock, stepped backward. Shot forward immediately. In anticipation now, Raxri parried the first strike, and then countered with their own. They traded blows, thunderous and quick. Robes silks rubbing against robe silks. Elbows dodged into chops into weaves into low stomping kicks.
Raxri found an opening as Yiwaritala leaned too far to dodge a feint. His neck, wide open. They meditated, moving all their Nihawa into their hand, activating Bladed Hand. They struck down, but Yiwaritala was ready for it. He saw the scything chop incoming and breathed, Nihawa coursing through his hand, activating Bladed Hand as well.
The two chopping hands met and clashed like true blades.
"Tactical." Yiwaritala struck with his other hand, now also a Bladed Hand. Raxri pushed themself off of Yiwaritala, who continued the assault. Meditating again, Raxri summoned their concentration to perform Whorl Guard. At that moment, Yiwaritala unleashed a cavalcade of blows, spearing with their Bladed Hand. Raxri just as quickly managed to deflect some of the blows, but the spearing hand was too quick. Cuts and lacerations opened on Raxri''s forearms, biceps, one even on their shoulder.
Desperate, Raxri in battle meditation summoned the Devastating Red Hand and met one of Yiwaritala''s Bladed Hands. Just as Raxri''d hoped: the red hand''s quaking power sent Yiwaritala flying back, though not stumbling. Yiwaritala inhaled and landed gracefully on their feet, as if he were a prince carried by the winds.
"Smart," said Yiwaritala. Raxri gasped for air, arms still up. "But not enough." Raxri was covered in a thousand slashes.
Yiwaritala activated their Light Body with a breath. In a single bound they were before Raxri. They launched another attack, and Raxri met it with a desperate defense. They were going quickly, and despite the Whorl Guard, Raxri''s parries were met with the force of a jackhammer. Every block sent them chittering and creaking, on the verge of shattering. Each force a hammer force... how could this be? Yiwaritala fought with a scary serenity, a matter of factness to his victory. His Whorl Hand Art was greater than Raxri''s, not just by dint of training, but also because of his inner power.
Yiwaritala attempted a last ditch effort. They exchanged blows for another round, with Raxri coming out bruised at the end of it. When Yiwaritala struck again, they moved so close that they pinned Yiwaritala''s hands on both sides. Then, screaming all the while, Raxri grabbed Yiwaritala''s torso and suplexed him to the ground.
Yiwaritala slammed into the earth, and as he did, Raxri yelled: "Devastating Red Hand!" As they punched at Yiwaritala''s body, attempting to bury it deep into the earth.
Unfortunately, Yiwaritala''s body was no longer there. Somehow, he had pulled himself out from under Raxri. Raxri''s Devastating Red Hand ripped into the earth, sending soil and debris into the air.
The debris was cut in two, like a curtain split open, as Yiwaritala emerged, descending upon Raxri from the sky, still with that same serenity. This attack was a spiral that begun from above, suddenly arcing forward, and then savagely down. A ferocious hammer strike.
"WHORL BREAKS OPEN THE LOTUS!" screamed Yiwaritala.
Raxri saw the arc much too late.
They desperately used Whorl Guard again.
The hammering fist shattered the Whorl Guard''s defense.
It was a storm surge shattering through a weakly made dam.
Is this... Sapi? That was all Raxri could remember thinking before azure water-flame slammed into their chest, sending them plunging into unconsciousness.
When Raxri woke up again, they woke to the smell of lime and tea.
The blackness they arose from felt all too familiar. Though now they did not awake in a vat of blue liquid, but rather, upon a soft blanket against cushiony dry grass. The sound of the gushing waters of the river still resounded. They were still in that grotto.
The sun was high up now, its rays seeping through the canopy. Despite it now being the zenith of the day, the Sun''s Blasted Rays did not strike them full-force. A pleasant breeze balmed their soul.
"Was I too harsh, Abbot?" Raxri heard Yiwaritala say. The Abbot only laughed.
"Underestimate not the stubbornness of our dear student. Witness, they have arisen."
Yiwaritala rose to their feet and walked over to where Raxri was. Bright green poultices had been applied to their wounds, so Raxri did not feel the burning situation they thought they would. Their arms, however, were wrapped in gauze and pandan leaves. Despite this, when Raxri looked at their arms, they saw that their cuts had completely shallowed.
"Was I knocked out?"
The abbot beckoned for Raxri. "Come, student. Share tea and betel nut with us."
Raxri acquiesced. Though a dull ache emanated from their wounds, it was nothing that they couldn''t handle. They walked over to the makeshift table they had set up, which was only high enough to be exact for a lotus-sitting position, made of bamboo. Their tea cups were unblemished but undecorated. They were only clay cups, with lines creating rings around their rim.
In the middle of the table was a beautiful lotus shaped cup, whereupon already prepared betel nut quids were placed. These had the fragrance of cinnamon.
On the far side of the table lazed a makeshift stone stove. Upon the stove was a clay kettle, with white steam slowly wisping out of it. The leafy smell of tea was strong, though not overpowering. It mingled well with the aroma of the incense.
Yiwaritala sat and poured Raxri tea. The water of the tea was clear with a green tinge, and it flowed smoothly, without any hitches or bubbling. They took it with both hands afterwards and sipped it. The tea was smooth, almost sweet, without any hints of any other flavor. It was light and refreshing. Raxri drank it in little slurps. Each slurp, they felt warmth descend down into their belly, into their liver. They felt their leaden muscles getting lighter. Soon, before they even realized, the teacup was empty.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
"Ah, see. You perk up now," said the abbot. "Good. I suppose the tea was to your tastes?"
Raxri smiled and nodded, languidly slow.
"The tea is made from a tea plant that can be found here," said the Abbot. "This tea plant is cultivated by mountain gods. In accord with the Buddhas, the mountain gods have blessed the tea plant of Mount Jura specifically with relievant properties. Mostly these work for diseases, but it also treatse fatigue and muscle pain very well. The same could be said of these betel nut chews, these nuts from the areca palm are also blessed and granted by the mountain gods."
The Abbot bowed reverently to the general direction of the shrine. Raxri could sense that the gods, choosing to be immaterial at the moment, were watching with a certain happiness. It was the same feeling as when a chef watched people enjoy their most famous meal.
Abbot Wairojashra sipped on the tea again. Raxri now took a piece of the quid and chewed. It had a bright, almost spicy flavor. While the tea stimulated their brain, the betel nut chew allowed a relaxing feeling to spread out from their mouth, suffusing their entire body. At once, Raxri felt their entire body be swallowed in relief. They spat out red chunks at the floor.
As Raxri chewed, Yiwaritala said: "And please, do forgive me for the outburst of strength."
Raxri shook their head. "I thought it was all part of the training procedure. So that you may reveal to me importance of harnessing Sapi."
"You put up a better fight than I had thought," said Yiwaritala. "I had truly underestimated your strength, and in so doing sent you teetering over what you couldn''t handle. Again, forgive me. That is both carelessness and disrespect on my part."
Raxri shook their head. "I understand! It is all right." They bowed to each other and then returned to chewing on betel nut. "But now I understand the power of Sapi. Is this the way of this world? That all beings have this Sapi and can harness it?"
The Abbot nodded. "Specifically, it must be cultivated. The End of the World is sometimes so called because of the fact that the number of cultivators have regressed. The workers are reduced to labor to even survive. Being a sentient being is no longer a contingent for living."
Then, he gestured with his lips to the general direction of Yiwaritala. "The tea and the betel nut do not only relieve pain. In fact, it relieves fatigue because it replenishes one''s Sapi Furnace. Yiwaritala had used a good portion of their Sapi during the fight. You... haven''t."
Yiwaritala added: "A momentous wellspring of Sapi arises from your Furnace... it is simply untapped."
The Abbot continued, "In truth, all sentient beings have momentous wellsprings of Sapi. Cultivation and training is one of the ways one reclaims that power. But there are other ways of manipulating Sapi and harnessing it, of course. These are the purviews of Wizards, Sages, Mystics, Gods, and the like."
Raxri decided it would be full interesting if they could learn magick. They did not vocalize this thought, however. That was something they squared away strictly for Akazha.
Instead, Raxri asked, spitting out another red chunk onto the blue-green grass: "What is the Sapi Furnace?"
It was Yiwaritala that answered. "I''m sure the witch Akazha has told you this before. The seat of power in a sentient being''s body is their Sapi Furnace. It can be found in between the Heart and Abdominal Chakras. It is from here that their strengths emanate out through the way of the Nihawa. The Sapi Furnace even functions the Mind."
"We teach here," interjected the Abbot. "That the Sapi and the Mind are but the same. But you will come to that realization eventually." The Abbot smiled again. Raxri realized how docile his demeanor was, despite once having seemingly transformed into a wrathful deity, and also once holding true lightning from heaven in their bare hands.
"The liver powers Sapi," said Yiwaritala. "This is why eating the liver has medicinal properties and is generally good for the health. Chicken liver, pork liver, all liver stores Sapi. Often this leads to corpulence, and hence why there are entire sects and paths around the art of cooking, and the art of feeding."
"I see."
The Abbot said, "That is also why the great ghouls and demon witches prey after the livers of other warriors. In so doing they steal that warrior''s liver. But as I''ve noted, this is a Demonic Act, and is an action that binds one to Evil Karma. It is a path of great power... In truth, it can lead to one becoming a Creator God! But never a buddha. Never liberation from the cycle of desire and excess."
Yiwaritala nodded all the while. When the Abbot finished, sipping on tea again, Yiwaritala said: "As one climbs the stages of cultivation, your Sapi Furnace will strengthen, and your connection to your wellspring of Sapi will greaten. This is how mortals become immortals. Through cultivating their Sapi Furnaces they can fly through the air, perform miracles, travel high enough to travel the heavens and low enough to travel the hells... and sometimes, yes, even create a universe in this Trichiliocosm.
"But strengthening the Sapi Furnace takes time, effort, and consistency. There are many skillful means that lead to the refinement of the Sapi Furnace, but they are all paths to the same goal. What we will teach you is refinement of your Sapi Furnace through meditation, contemplation, and visualization. These techniques will help you along the Thunderbolt Path."
"I am eager to learn. But, wait... what are the other means?"
Yiwaritala sipped on their tea first. "There are as many means as there are feathers upon a Maya bird. Apart from the Diamond Path Concentration practices, there is also the Elder Way Meditational practice, which is another way that focuses on attaining Arhathood. The Alchemists of Nilatpa swear to the Way of Gold, using and refining external minerals, precious metals, herbs, and other such items to create Elixirs that fill one with Sapi. Other Alchemists follow the Way of Fire, which puts an emphasis on Internal-External Sympathetic Symbology and the transmutation from mortal to divine.
"There is the Peerless Cooking Sage Technique, which focuses on creating Sapi-filled foods that, when eaten by a cultivator on their Path, would set their Sapi ablaze and fill them with strength.
"There is the Tranquil Light Practice, which is a similar contemplative practice to ours but with prayer upon the High Seraph Yenja. There are the Smiths, cultivators who hound after the perfect tool or piece of equipment, and in so doing refine and upgrade their very Sapi Furnaces to perfection as they perfect other, many of whom worship the Machine God.
There is, of course, the Exemplars of the Way, who kindle and refine their Sapi Furnaces through sheer mastery of their Art. This is where ideas such as Sword Cultivation and Spear Cultivation arise. Their belief is in the mastery and supreme mastery of their chosen art, they can attain Immortality. We ourselves use various cultivations, as these Paths are Paths to Power, which will be of extreme help when living in this world of suffering. But as the Abbot has said, these are not Ways to Enlightenment, simply to Power."
Raxri asked for another cup of tea, and the Abbot was more than happy to oblige. After being poured the tea, Raxri said, "There is an entire world of cultivation for me to see..."
"In the Latter Day of the Law," spoke the Abbot. "There has ever been a greater impetus for these cultivations, as the world crumbles and withers away to its inevitable end. The cycle shall repeat, as that is the way of the world, but like a serpent eating its own tail, the end-beginning of a cycle is destructive, dangerous, and obliterative. Many people seek the esoteries to survive the cyclical end, walking into Kalah''s Maw."
Raxri wanted to ask about Kalah''s Maw when they suddenly remembered something. "That reminds me, Abbot! Forgive me for not being able to tell you sooner. The dog demons that have appeared in Jura Mountain... they have a chieftain named Silver Wind Witch Dog who lives at the caves atop the mountain. They are readying to obliterate the monastery! I was so enamored by the monastery and new learnings that that slipped my mind."
"I see," the Abbot turned to Yiwaritala. They stared at each other for a moment, before Yiwaritala inhaled.
The monk said: "This is the first time a chieftain has ever appeared in Mount Jura. It seems that they are readying in earnest now for a true attack. Such nuisance to the practice of enlightenment."
"Ready the fighting forces," replied the Abbot. "But we must not fall into vengeance. Wait until they are at our gates, then we must protect what is ours without impunity."
Yiwaritala bit his lip. He said, "If we wait that long, we might endanger destructions upon our monastery."
"The monastery can be repaired. Charging on our own with the intent of slaying all the beasts... though they be demons, these are not skillful means."
"But, Abbot, we must conquer them before they conquer us!"
"Have you no faith in the Arts of the Adamantine Path? Abide in the Law, and the Law shall deliver."
Yiwaritala inhaled, and then exhaled. "I will ready the towers and the warrior-monks, Abbot."
The Abbot nodded. "You may leave to do so. I will take care of this one''s training, for now." The abbot smiled a perfect smile to Raxri. Raxri blinked.
Suddenly, their bullet wound jolted again. Raxri wished it was not aggravated due to the fight. The pain quickly subsided, so Raxri decided to ignore the most of it.
Yiwaritala nodded. He rose to his feet and bowed to the Abbot with a mouth reverence. They nodded to Raxri in politeness, and then left the way they came.
The smell of water mingled with fresh bamboo and the steams of tea and incense created a surprisingly tranquil aura penetrating their training zone. Raxri spat the last chunk of betel nut from their mouth, feeling energized.
The abbot rose. "How are you feeling?"
Raxri swallowed. "Better, now, your servant believe."
The abbot waved his hand. "You may refer to yourself. No need to refer to yourself as a servant. That is for conversation between kings and peasants. In the mountains, all of us are kings."
Raxri smiled. They liked the sound of that. They moved their shoulder around and said, "However, there is still some ache."
"You will heal in due time. Since Yiwaritala will not be able to, I will teach you the basics of the Adamantine Sword."
"Adamantine... Sword?" Excited, Raxri to their feet. Finally, a new martial art! They readied their fingers.
The abbot nodded and uttered a mantra. As they did, they pulled out a sword. The sword had a handle that depicted a roaring tiger, eyes bulding, and curved forwards still. The blade of the sword was mostly straight, unlike the kalis, though it similarly had the handguard that was part of the blade. The blade was thick, and just the right amount of length.
It floated gently over toward Raxri''s hand.
Raxri took it and wielded it. The balance was different from a longknife, that was for sure. Though it was not too weirdly balanced that they didn''t know how to wield it. The handle made it easy to chop in a certain direction, but Raxri noticed that this sword was double-edged, unlike the longknife''s single edge.
"That is the sword, sometimes known as the sundang in particular parts of the Utter Islands. It is the most common kind of sword you will find in the Central, Southern, Southwestern, and Southeastern regions of the Sword Isles." The Abbot brought out their own blade. This one had writing inscribed onto the flat of its damascened blade. He continued, "Despite the pacifism inherent in the tenets of the Law, we recognize that there is room for violence in the scriptures. This violence, which should only end in killing for the most extreme of cases, is taught and perpetuated by the Termagant Buddha, Scarlet God Buddha, and Dattreya Wairini. She once taught as thus: ''Force must be met with force. But this force must be guided by the compassionate hand. A hand of hatred will only turn the wheel.'' Therefore, compassionate violence is the only allowed violence."
"I see." Raxri stared at the blade. "Was the Adamantine Sword was made to protect the monks?"
The Abbot shook his head. "This was developed a long time ago, and was created in tandem with the martial arts of Selorong, to the northwest of Pemi. The Adamantine Sword has two signature beliefs: to destroy the chains of oppression and to kill only when it is required."
The Abbot then moved their blade in a single, diagonal, cutting arc. "Let us begin." [1.24] Legacy of the Whispered Seal
Water turns into the Earth, after enough time. Anything that attracts and binds is earth. Earth grants stability, it grants a place for growth, a place for things to come together and thrive. Within the earth all things live and die. Upon the earth the ghosts dance, upon the earth the gods conduct their political proceedings. Those that keep to the Elder Ways become one with the Earth, and in a way achieve what the Awakened would too. You find it in the mountains, in the pebble, in the stone artisanry, in the boughs of too-old trees. Treatise on the Great Powers
For the rest of the day, Raxri and the Abbot practiced the movements of the Adamantine Sword. It came quickly to Raxri in truth: there were interesting circular movements that echoed the movements of the Whorl Hand. The movement of the sword was complex: long diagonal arcs, quick thwipping wrist slashes, flat-of-blade to edge-of-blade fanning strikes, locking movements with the base of the sword and the pommel of the sword when in close range, wide arcing spirals when in long range. Through it all, the Abbot taught Raxri to keep the other hand moving, quickly changing, tapping, pushing, rising and falling as the sword fell and rose.
These seem familiar... Glimpses of them striking the water ghosts arose. Is this the same sword art I''ve been practicing? Am I on the same path as before?
"What is the purpose for the movement of this empty hand, Abbot?"
The abbot smiled. "It is our utility. With that hand, you may disarm, snatch, or otherwise lock your opponent into compromising positions. Witness." The Abbot quickly closed in on Raxri. Out of instinct, Raxri performed a quick sword flick going down to up. The Abbot savagely denied that by hammering down Raxri''s thwipping sword with the flat of his own. Then the Abbot''s other hand snaked in, locking Raxri''s swordhand. In the next moment, Raxri was on the ground, sword disarmed, but hand still in the Abbot''s clutches.
"Wow." Raxri caught their breath.
"Not just that," said the Abbot. "Perhaps more importantly, the Adamantine Sword was created in tandem with another martial art. The Thunderbolt Shield, which focuses on shield movements, disarms, and thunderous knockbacks. You can tell now why it is so emphasized."
Raxri smiled. "Yes. Please, teach me more!"
The Abbot smiled, and looked just a bit impressed at Raxri''s eagerness to learn. And so they did. More movements of the sword. More lessons in the nuance of a blade''s movement. More important body dynamics, the flicks, the subtle footwork.
Very soon they were exchanging blows. Raxri''s natural aptness to martial arts helped them grasp the complexities of the body dynamics. The cross-legging required to properly swing power into a slash. The deliberate movement required for the blade edge alignment. The quickness of a required strike.
The Abbot taught as they traded blows, parried strikes, performed complex locks and breaks. "The Adamantine Sword is so called as it is manifests and emphasizes the most important aspects of the Adamantine Path," he said, deflecting Raxri''s strike with their empty hand and unleashing one of their own, which was promptly blocked as well by Raxri''s own swing and then they replied with a counter slash diagonally upward. The Abbot stepped away from that, evading it easily and without much effort with the proper cross-legged footwork. "The explosive understanding of Enlightenment, the indestructible wisdom of Liberation, the sure annihilation of obstacles with the understanding of the nonduality of Extinction and Suffering. At first, these are emphasized in the tandem movement of the Live Hand and the Sword Hand, never without the other. This is also emphasized by the sudden lightning strikes of the blade. All too quickly, unseen by the eye, with the express intent of killing with every strike. We never feed our blades unless absolutely necessary to open up defenses. We overwhelm with perfectly aligned blows, like Shagara''s Fulminating Thunderbolt."
Soon they were performing rudimentary defenses and countering. The Abbot took control of the movement. They moved as if they were playing, the Abbot striking and then Raxri parrying which flowed into a strike which the Abbot parried which flowed into a strike. Whenever the two of them got too close, they parried sword hand against sword hand, redirecting the flow of the sword. Whenever the two of them exchanged blows in long range, they parried with the flat of the blade. Or better yet, emphasized the footwork and the spacing required to fight in long-ranged swords.
"Good. You soar through the fundamentals of the Adamantine Sword," said the Abbot as they performed a wide vertical arcing slash, called the Spiralling Dragon. This Raxri quickly employed the Vayu Wingslice, which was a quick diagonal movement to the left, combined with a wide diagonal slash up. Movements like this, the Abbot had taught, required good bodily mechanics and conditioning.
The vast majority of warriors do not have this required bodily maneuverability, and so they resort to the simple parry-counter when attacked by such an attack from afar. The Abbot had told them as well that while effective, almost workman, it funneled one to strict movements and was not effective for all violence theaters. "Though the tall men of the Northwest Continent will tell you otherwise! They are notorious for their haughtiness in war, superceding even that of the Warlords of Shennin Society!" The Abbot had laughed.
They continued to exchange strikes, almost moved into a dance where their blades almost hit each other but never did. There were some strikes, however, that the Abbot performed a counter in such a way that Raxri would be reprimanded for a lazy stroke, or a wide slash. This counter always ended with a blade against Raxri''s neck, or a nick against their belly. Raxri knew that if they were fighting for real that it would only really take the Abbot a single move to kill them.
As they moved, Raxri couldn''t help but comment upon the fact that a large number of the strikes, movements, counters, defenses and more all resembled dance moves. Long ranged slashes like the dance maneuvers that copied eagles, close ranged strikes resembling intense movements of weavers, sped up.
Eventually they stopped to take a break. They drank from clean river water, blessed by the gods. The sun slowly set. Despite almost training for most of the day, the Abbot did not seem the least bit fatigued, while Raxri''s muscles burned and their lungs heaved for air.
As they drank water, Raxri asked: "Teacher, may I ask? The movements are akin to dance moves... Is that intended?"
The Abbot smiled. "The Adamantine Sword, as I''ve said, was developed on the isle of South Ra-Om, among the Ekatadan River Communes. The movements are a mix of Shennin footwork, Ekatada war dances, Bidaree jives, and the emulation of the sacred statues of the Arhats, Jina Buddhas, and Bodhisattvas. It is continually iterated upon by the regions where it is brought into. Here in Pemi Island, we are continually adding techniques from the Nunuk League." He smiled. "Their dances are dances to honor their gods. Many of their movements even aim to emulate the subtle ones and the emanations of the many Buddha. These we also incorporate into our Adamantine Sword, Thunderbolt Shield, and Thunderbolt Staff."
"Those are the three martial arts you teach in this monastery?"
The Abbot nodded. "Alongside that, we also have masters in the Talismanic Tattooing Practice and the Whispered Seal."
"The Whispered Seal?"
"Yes. An esoteric magick tradition. Using mudras and mantras to affect the world about you, rituals to change destinies..."Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
"Is this the very same mantra sect that witch Akazha studies?"
The Abbot nodded. "She came here for initiation into them, yes. I''m not sure if she still practices it to this day. She has a different master, I believe. I am not quite sure, it''s been some time since we''ve seen her. But the Whispered Seal tradition can be used in concordance with other Law-aligned Cultivations, you see. It is not a foundational practice, but rather, a supplementary one. Whispered Seal mantra magick is used to great effect during the great wars that ravaged our land. Intertwining, clashing rituals marred the karmic landscape of the Utter Islands, sinking us ever into attachment."
Raxri blinked. "That... does not seem good."
"As with all traditions," said the Abbot. "A minority of those that dance along the river of the Law use the knowledge they''ve gleaned for selfish, hateful means. It is our responsibility to make sure those we teach never become like that, but some beings surrender to their karmic resonances and fall. You see, Raxri Uttara. No person is every truly bound by their karma. They have the will and the agency to change who they are, if they manage to be reborn as a human. Despite this... there are some whose karmic bonds are so strong that it is easier to fall into them than to transcend them. Many of these people become war hungry tyrants and despots. Many more become bandits, pirates, hateful ministers."
"I see. Does that mean... all bandits are this way due to their past karma?"
The Abbot shook his head. "No one is a certain way because of their past karma. Karma is simply the ripening of consequence. It ripens often in rebirth, though also in a single life. It never makes someone inherently evil, however. That is a lie. No being is ever inherently evil. Evil comes from suffering, you see."
Enlightened, Raxri could only bow.
When the sun was halfway below the horizon, the Abbot rose and fixed their food and tea. Raxri hurriedly got up to help. They placed it into a woven palm leaf bag, and Raxri offered to carry it. The Abbot only smiled and nodded, uttering full thanks.
They trekked back. The sky darkened. In the distance, sometimes, when the dense foliage of the mountain path broke and showed Raxri the rest of the vale below, the torches and lotus lights of the various villages that lined the great river shined. A warm feeling rose from Raxri''s belly. Some light in the midst of darkness, yet.
As they walked, the Abbot lifted their sword. It shone a dull white light, like a low-burning fire. "Our torch, for now," said the Abbot, smiling.
A question arose in Raxri''s inquiring mind. "Master, that sword... it is a most beautiful sword. Is it the only kind of sword usable in the Adamantine Sword?"
The Abbot shook his head. "Every kind of longsword can be wielded. Even the popular straight sword common in North Ra-om! Though often the straight sword is easily broken, unless it is magicked and inhabited by gods, and so our blade-on-blade blocks will not be easily applicable. Similarly, sometimes, single-edged blades you will have some difficulty of applying the swordwhips with, but in that sense you will only realize that blunted damage is sometimes just as damaging as cutting damage."
Raxri nodded eagerly. "I see. I will keep it in mind. The sword calls to me yet."
"You wielded a different blade when you first came here, Raxri Uttara," said the Abbot. "Ten harvests ago. You wielded the straight sword, tasseled and imbued with magicks. It was the same kind of sword wielded by the Bright Bodhisattva, the King of Wisdom. You wielded it to cut through all obstacle... or so you said. You visited only for such a short time that I was not able to witness your martial prowess."
"I see..." Raxri bit their lip. Still, no memory of such a thing ever happening recurred to them. Perhaps in learning the Adamantine Sword it will return to them yet? "The Adamantine Sword, Abbot... it is a Path to Power, is it not?"
"Yes. Though it can be a Path of Enlightenment, that is only possible if it is mixed with practices of the Path of Enlightenment. The violent means of the Adamantine Sword is only part of its Path of Power. Progression in the Adamantine Sword has six stages."
The Abbot pointed at the handle of the sword. "The first stage is the Sword Grasp. This is where you stand. Upon the realm of the Sword Grasp, you will seize the fundamentals and incorporate it into your Mindstream. You will learn how to move the sword, how to apply it, how to live and die by it."
The Abbot then pointed at the handguard of the sword. Raxri almost tripped and fell staring the sword as they walked. "Next is Sword Intent. This is often the stage where mortals end their journey. To many, this is mastery. But in truth, it is not. Sword Intent is the fusion of one''s mindfulness and awareness with the sharpness of the blade. Many weaker-willed only master this stage and leave, starting blade schools of their own. They possess the wrong view. Sword Intent has the beginnings of Sapi harnessing, you see. The manifestation of the unique kind of Sapi used for higher level swordplay: the Sword Will. You will develop this soon enough. Along with this are more advanced techniques, more specifically locking techniques, long ranged techniques, and techniques that emphasize multiple strikes in the time it would take for your opponent to blink. Remember, Raxri Uttara. In the matter of weaponry, trading blows can only exist as a necessity. Always incapacitate your opponent at the earliest possible move."
Raxri nodded. The Abbot pointed at the base of the blade. "Next is the Sword Soul. Here, only Lightning-Enterers and other such cultivators of the appropriate level can arrive. The Sword Soul gives rise to the Sword Will. Here, esoteric techniques are taught. And truly, it is the longest and lengthiest of the six Adamantine Sword Stages. Here you will learn to strike without dulling your blade, perform slashes that send wind-slices against your opponent, and to even manipulate your blade with nothing but your concentration. And much more, of course. The Sword Soul separates the swordhand from the swordmaster."
Raxri remembered theirs and Akazha''s first meeting. Was Akazha of the Sword Soul level when it came to swordplay? They even wielded a kalis, which was intimately similar to the sundang they held in their hands.
The Abbot then pointed at the middle of the blade. "Next is Sword Divinity. There are only a scant few that have reached this level, and even fewer reach this while also upon a Path of Enlightenment. The Sword Divinity promises untold levels of power, of skill with the blade. Here one can ride upon a blade, summon a sword from one''s very Sapi, unleash ten thousand cuts in a second, and bend fate itself by sighting down the lines of sword strokes. Greater masters of Sword Divinity have even cut rivers and gouged ravines into the earth! However many masters of Sword Divinity are demonic accumulators. Those that reach this level of skill quickly through underhanded means, through the draining of other''s Sapi. Most Sword Gods arrive here at Sword Divinity, and never think there to be anything past it. "
The Abbot pointed at the Sword''s tip. "What follows is Sword Royalty. Here, only the greatest masters, sequestered away in mountain hermitages, forest grottos, and sea caves, have attained. The Sword Void requires a certain level of enlightenment, as it recognizes swordplay beyond heaven. Its violence is unmatched: those that stand upon Sword Royalty cannot be harmed by mortal blades, so they have their soul with the sword''s edge. They can cut through the weave of spacetime, embodying the essence of cutting. They can strike with nothing but their fingers and cleave mountains in half, all with the understanding of their Sword Being. They can cut their restraints from the earth or from others, bending causality to their whims, unleashing sword dimensions and sword fields and replacing healing with cutting. They are demons of the blade, cutters of the Trichiliocosm. I personally know no master that has reached Sword Royalty, though I am absolutely sure a large number of them exist, and many of them exist within higher levels of Cultivation... more likely in the many heavens above our own. For many, this is the peak of the Adamantine Sword--and truly, of almost any Sword Cultivation, of which there are a thousand thousand more."
Finally, the Abbot pointed at the edge of the entire blade. His finger traced in the air the entirety of the sword''s razor edge. "The final stage it is said only ten have truly reached, and they are beings in the Form Domain. Half of them are Arhats, others are Bodhisattvas. Only some are Creator Gods. Only two are still mortal beings we can find today. Or at least, so I''m told," the Abbot said,s miling. "Sword Void cuts one''s attachments from the world. You see, it is said that the one fault with Sword Royalty is in the belief that the highest form of enlightenment is in the refining of one''s soul into a sword. But that is not true. In Sword Void, one cuts away that delusion and realizes there is no sword at all. There is no cutting at all. There is no soul at all... All these things exist dependent of each other. And upon realization of that dependency, one can cut it. With just a finger, with just a thought, those that have attained Sword Void can bisect entire world systems, entire universes, entire world-systems...," the Abbot sighed turned the blade in such a way that the edge pointed at Raxri. "Or so I''m told."
Raxri realized then that they had already arrived by the monastery. "I did not even realize we were at the monastery."
The Abbot smiled. "Even time itself is an illusion, Raxri. It is time for you to prove some of your mettle."
Raxri blinked. "What does the abbot mean?"
Suddenly, a keening war trumpet ripped through the air, like a hammer destroying skin. [1.25] The Onslaught of the Horde
Reality is inherently empty: nothing has an inherent essence. If there is an essence, then that essence is made up of various other component parts. Nothing can be stripped to its bare minimum. When the smallest motes of reality are broken down to its bare minimum one still finds other particles that make up it, and even in nothingness there are strands of possibility. This is the truth of reality. If one breaks reality down even further, then one might find Flower-Nature, the truth of all things. But it is impossible to do so without proper Awakening. From the Treatise on Emptiness by Nakawirawan Siddha
The Abbot''s fierce face gave Raxri a stern look. Then, a command: "Make your way to the monastery''s courtyard," said the Abbot. "I will see you there." The Abbot leapt into the skies, their body piercing the very clouds as they somersaulted into the monastery.
Raxri''s eyes widened. "When will I be able to do that?"
Shrugging, Raxri broke into a run. What was happening? Were these the dog demons? No doubt it was. That was a war trumpet, wasn''t it? Was there a horde outside?
As they ran up the stairs that led into the monastery''s courtyard, the thrumming steady beat of wardrums echoed across the mountain. The erratic beat drummed, each strike chilling Raxri''s spine. Their heart tried to match the beat but the beat was so inhumanely aberrant...
When Raxri arrived, they saw the monks going about composed. They stood rank and file within the courtyard, wielding lances, blades, shields, and longbows. Those in front had layered atop their monk robes lacquered wood armors and helmets. Among them was a tall and gaunt man, broad-shouldered, skin the beautiful black of night. Upon their skin glowed scarlet tattoos, showcasing gods, tigers, crocodiles, all tied together in the same mystic script both Raxri and Akazha had.
One of the nuns ran out of the meditation house and past Raxri. Raxri called out: "Excuse me! Can you tell me what''s happening?"
"Oh," the nun bowed. Raxri returned the folded-hand bow. Raxri remembered this one. This was Pilinitala. Her face lined with ferocious pink face paint made her look like a wrathful tiger god. "Raxri Uttara, right? Here, the Abbot told me to give you this." They were handed a sword, similar to the one they trained with, though this one was tasseled with scarlet threads and was sheathed in a long rectangular wooden sheathe. The sheathe itself had a thread around it that could be worn. Raxri did so, making it so that the sword was positioned across their back.
"Thank you. What is going on outside the gates?" The gates were still closed, though multiple monks were atop the walls. Within the pagoda towers stood bowmen at the ready, with the same yew longbow painted red and tasseled with bright red threads.
"A Dog Demon Horde has arrived," said Pilinitala. "We are to fend them off. Though, it seems their forces have diminished."
Raxri blinked, worry now striking their face. "Do they have their chief with them?"
Pilinitala shook her head. "It doesn''t seem so. Come, we must fall into rank."
Raxri nodded and followed Pilinitala. They lined up beside one of the rows of people.
Raxri looked up and saw Yiwaritala atop the wall, wielding but a staff. The staff was decorated with clouds and thunderbolts on both ends. This was different from the usual staff they wielded, Raxri realized. He was also clad now in the same lacquered wood armor as the frontline. Lamellars that covered their torso, their lower half a sarong also plated with the same lamellar. His feet were similarly wrapped with lacquered wood shinguards.
When he spoke, his voice boomed, as if he were a dragon god. "Dog Demons of Silver Wind Cave! Announce why you have arrived here, with weapons bared and war drums ringing!"
From the other side of the gate, Raxri heard the snarling retort of their warlord: "You monks have meditated so far up your ass that you''ve lost all common sense! What else would we be doing here? We shall pillage your monastery and take all your merit for ourselves!"
Yiwaritala scowled. "This is not the way to attain merit, my brothers! There are better ways to cultivate good karma, and lead to a better life!"
"Without power, there will be nothing!" screamed the warlord back. "This monastery has accrued scrumptious amounts of Sapi. What else can we do but sup on its sweet nectar? What else can we do but seize this Sapi with forced transmission!"
Yiwaritala roared: "And what makes you think we will allow such depravity?"
"You will allow fuck all! We shall take it from your bloody hands, and feast on your corpse and gain Sapi tenfold!"
"The cultivation of Sapi is not the only way to happiness and bliss! The Buddha grant you an escape. You will find peace and joy in the lands beyond heaven and earth. If you only humble yourself and submit to the teachings of the Buddhas!" And to that a roaring chorus of laughter from the army greeted him back.
Pilinitala said, "Hmph. I don''t know why Yiwaritala is doing this. Slaying demons is a meritorious thing to do, so that they may reincarnate into better bodies. Trying to sway them into the Buddhas''s teachings is a fool''s errand!"
A deep voice echoed from behind them: "Even demons can be redeemed yet, though they are of the Wrathful Path in the Wheel. It is unlikely, but it is possible. Killing them yields good merit and little negative karma still, but that way is the easy way, and will not accrue you Wisdom for Extinction." Raxri turned to see the night-skinned man, clad only in loose-fitting robes, wooden sandals, and an interesting poker--no doubt the poker he uses for tattooing. He was smirking. "Greetings. I am Ampun Sagara. You''re new."
Raxri performed mouth reverence to them. "A-Ah, yes. I am Raxri Uttara. I''ve come here looking for enlightenment."
Ampun Sagara smiled. Their eyes were bright ambers. "Don''t we all?" They were covered, head to toe, in the tattoos. Even their bald head was a site for a confluence of mystic scripts and geometries of the talismanic tattoos.
"Here you are again Ampun. I''m just saying what''s at stake here is our lives! A bit of a karma hit and good merit is a good trade." Pilinitala said. She sighed. "As always, the ever war between merit and liberation."
"Doing things for good karma and merit is different from doing things for Liberation," replied Ampun. "I''m sure you know this."
"Yes, yes," Pilintala said, visibly out of patience. She rolled her eyes and grasped her weapon: a long lance with a tassel by the end. The blade of her lance seemed long, almost the length of a longknife.
Ampun glanced at the talismanic tattoo on Raxri''s forearm and said, "We should talk later. The festival begins."
Outside, the sound of the war drum beat faster, still with that erratic, demonic rhythm. More intimidatingly, the scream of the demon''s war trumpets ripped through the air. "I speak to you once more," said Yiwaritala, having to shout to be heard against the din of the demonic cacophony. "Yield now and be enlightened!"
"We will become more powerful than your enlightenment! Strike, my brothers! The Buddha shall fall to demonic accumulation!"
Explosions wracked the monastery walls. The gate bulged inward, as if seeking to vomit something out. It shuddered and shook and looked like it might give way. They were ramming it down, as if this were a siege!
Yiwaritala raised his hand with a particular hand sign.
A shout from atop the pagoda towers. "Ready!" The shout could be heard even against the booming rhapsody of the demon''s violence. The bowmen readied their arrows, some of them on the courtyard where Raxri was, others upon the pagodas. Each of them had three arrows nocked onto their bows. They pulled, pulled, pulled. Their yew longbows bent under the strain.
"Fire!"
One thousand arrows flew into the air, as all the bowmen unleashed a nerve-wracking scream in unison. It struck fear even into Raxri, who suddenly flinched at the scream that sounded more like the howl of a Thunderous Warrior God. All of the arrows bore a strange feather pinned to them; they whistled loudly as they spiralled through the sky, meeting with the clouds, arcing and falling like rain towards the demons.
The cries of the demons struck filled the air. The pungent smell of brimstone sliced through the sacred smell of incense and lotuses and bamboo. Raxri scrunched their nose in primal retaliation against the offensive odor.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
"Aim!" The man guiding all the archers barked out again. All at once, the three arrows were nocked onto place. "Ready!" All at once, they pulled, their longbows bending, creaking.
All the while, the assault on the doors did not let up. The nails on the hinges of the door creaked, bent in an unnatural way. They about to give way.
Raxri''s adrenaline surged through them. With their meditation, they forced it to pool where their Sapi Furnace was, getting ready to channel it into their techniques.
Beside them, Pilinatala was readying her lance. "Here they come..."
"Fire!" Another set of arrows into the sky, accompanied with roars. Just as they did, a stunning wave of sorcery blast through the air, slamming into a good majority of the arrows and rendering them into useless sticks that clattered to the ground. A chunk of the arrows still arced through, skewering what they could on the other side of the wall.
Yiwaritala slammed his foot down and took on a wide stance. He inhaled.
When he exhaled, black billowing fumes erupted from him, and his face bulged with the ferocity of a wrathful carabao. He performed a quick, spiralling kata, at the end of which he launched himself into the army of demons below. Along with him also leaped warbands of monks, each with weapons at the ready, each with streamers of Nihawa surging from them.
The gate blast open. On the other side of the door, a hundred demon warriors at the ready, with a single three tail tall bull demon as their battering ram. They charged inside, hefting demonic weapons of flailing whips, rusted blades, and jagged blade daggers. All of them were dog demons, or were at least in some form canine. Their snouts all looked as if they had been replaced by a thunderbird''s beak.
Pilinitala yelled alongside the throngs of monks, and they charged. Raxri exhaled and let their gathered Sapi flow. They ran together.
The two armies slammed against each other.
Blade against blade, steel against flesh, demon ferocity against human justice.
Ampun was among them; he fought with nothing but his tattoo poker. He wielded it as if it was a sword, slashing and thrusting. As he did, solid-liquid flows of black ink erupted from the tip of the weapon, skewering and slicing through hordes of demons. He parried with nothing but his bare hands, catching weaponstrikes with the various talismanic tattoos on his forearms and biceps. He moved through the throngs as if he was clad in full armor, with only a few weapons actually scoring scratches on him. The majority of the weapons bounced off of the latticework of talismanic tattoos he had engraved against his skin.
Pilinatala was no slouch either. With her glaive at the ready, she acrobatically flipped over a wide sword swing, which continued into a downward arcing cut that cleaved another demon warrior in half. She crouched low and spun her glaive around, weaving her entire body, cutting in all directions around in her in a circular motion. When a hammer slammed down towards her she dove to the side and flipped onto the hammer, bringing the glaive with her so that she decapitated that demon warrior in a single motion. She then leapt on top of that same demon warrior, exhaled, and then hopped over the heads of the crowd until she was in a spot where she wasn''t completely surrounded by the demon warriors.She down at one of the dog demons, skewering them through and impaling them to the ground. When she rose to her feet, she had her other hand in a half folded hands mudra, uttering: "Let my violence be offering, let mybe offering," again and again and again.
A shiver ran down Raxri''s spine. Somewhere, the Termagant Buddha watched them, eyes scowling, eyebrows on fire.
The rest of the monk warriors fought similarly, and they fought very orderly. Those that were clad in armor stood in the front, commanding the flow of the demon warriors. Those that were able to move freely bounded and leaped--some of them even used their armored comrades as jumping platforms or as pivot points for their attacks--slashing and striking and then deftly moving out of the way. While the dog demons were tenacious and straightforward, the monks used the advantage of their limber bodies and cultivation of Nihawa to outmaneuver and cut down the enemy lines.
The demon warriors fought with hard numbers on their side, severely outnumbering the Monastery forces. The demon warriors struck and winnowed through the ranks of the monks, without a care for losing lives. They had enough forces anyway. Though the monks were quick and acrobatic, the savage swings and pragmatic strikes of the dog demon warriors struck some and brutally impaired a few others. Screams from monks interspersed the violent and furious clash of steel and demon.
Raxri had jumped into the fray and was somewhere behind the monk''s frontlines, taking care of the demons that had managed to push through the heavily armored lines. With the sword that the Abbot had given them, their weaponstrikes cut through the dog demons as if they were hot butter. Two quick horizontal strikes moved into a cross-legged whipping strike to a sudden on the ground ankle strike. They lifted themselves up with their Light Body Technique, kicked away two incoming dog demon soldiers, and then violently flipped forward to vertically bisect a demon whose shield had been pushed away by a nearby monk comrade.
When a dog demon came too close, they channeled their Nihawa and slammed them with their Devastating Red Hand. That demon crashed into their comrades behind them.
Raxri''s swordstrikes, they were only now realizing, were both defense and offense. With every strike they blocked, countered, decapitated or cleft. Raxri realized now that some attacks they viewed as telegraphing a strike were actually ways to block incoming attacks and then to counter back at them. The Adamantine Sword burst open with this realization.
A kinetic blur. Raxri traded blows, parries, counters, with the dog demons. Two dog demons came too close: Raxri quickly struck the both of them, locked in the demon to their left with a snaking motion, coiled their feet into a cross-legged stance and slammed that demon against the demon to their right, and then uncoiled their cross-legged stance, bringing their weapon with them to cleave both the dog demons in two.
The new Adamantine Sword came naturally to Raxri. Exhilaration pumped through them, but they did not allow that to send them into a harmful frenzy. They channeled all the adrenaline into their Sapi Furnace once again, and they could feel their muscles jovially strengthening at this discipline.
From afar, Yiwaritala and his fellow monk adepts fought furiously. A mixture of overwhelming strikes that embedded multiple dog demons into the ground, telekinetic pushes that threw many of the dog demons off the cliff, and powerful staff strikes that, when they slammed into their opponents, resonated with the echo of thunder. Various other monks shared this fighting style, fighting in this same way.
Others fought with the ferocity of a cornered mountain boar, whipping and roaring and using two blades to gore and skewer. Others moved like serpents, taking on heavily low stances and striking out suddenly, using their legs to wind around the necks of their victims which they then turned around and corkscrew-slammed into the ground. There were some that fought with the tenacity of the carabao: they struck and performed heavy winding attacks, but whenever a weapon would strike against them the demonic weapons would only break and shatter under the strength of their hide.
Despite all this however, and no matter how much Raxri overwhelmed the dog demons with their prowess, with the quickness in which they struck, with the strength of their blade, trading blows, with the deftness of their parries (though they suffered a good few hits to be sure; in a matter of a few rounds of fighting their face was bruised and cut, their forearms bleeding with open wounds), their enemy''s forces never seemed to abate.
"The horde thins not," said Ampun, as they were pushed to the zone where Raxri fought in. They pointed their poker and an inky claw roared out, tearing at a nearby dog. They parried another incoming blade with thier tattood arm, and then stabbed that dog demon in the eye, turned them around--poker still in eye--and then ripped the poker away.
Raxri nodded. They used their Light Body to dodge an attack, flipping in the air, and cut three times in the span of a second, like a blossoming iron peony. "Do they have such numbers?"
"They have not the numbers." Ampun pointed with their poker to the far distance, behind enemy lines, at the point where the mountain path descended. "It be their summoner." There, a dog demon in a brocaded cassock--no doubt stolen from a monk--raised a rusted pewter staff into the air. He shook it with certainty, in certain rhythms, as the iron rings clanged and clanged in muted tones due to its rusted form. As they did this, dog demons clawed out from a rift in reality, stepping onto the mountain path fully clad in their armors (which clung to them only by string) and cheap rusting weapons. "Though our kind be strong, their numbers will overwhelm us yet."
Raxri and Ampun kept up the fight. Despite their combined efforts, they were steadily becoming overwhelmed. Raxri traded blows with another nearby dog demon and that dog demon managed a savage bit on their shoulder. They winced, and managed to decapitate that dog demon, forcing their body to dissipate into that coagualated mass that eventually unraveled into a thousand thousand threads.
"Do you witness?" Ampun asked Raxri, as he parried away another demon and punctured their neck with their tattoo-poker. "Strands of Sapi. Many of these dog demons are magickal constructs."
"Those are possible?"
"Oh yes more than possible... demons are commonly wrought of sorcery. Though many demons are sentient beings, these don''t seem to be."
"Maybe it is their chieftain that is the sentient being and these are but summoned from his magicks?" conjectured Raxri. Ampun only nodded in agreement, as he dodged a lunge, caught that dog demon''s strike, and then twisted, slamming the demon onto the ground. They unraveled into strands of Sapi as well.
A pair of dog demons attacked Raxri from behind, but they were summarily destroyed by a twin attack by Pilinitala and Ampun. Pilinatala struck both of them with a single swipe of her lance, Ampun clobbered them with a summoned script-hammer (a mallet conjured from the poker''s tip!), and then they finished them off with a conjoined smash.
Other dog demons were constantly trying to strike at Raxri, but other monks, wielding staves and swords and chains and spears, were handily fighting them off. Though Raxri sustained some injuries, they were nothing more than grazes as the dog demons closed in.
Then, Raxri heard the sound of crying.
Off in the distance, surrounded by another horde, was a child.
Raxri was doing well here, among the rest of the monks. Fighting alongside them, they were able to maneuver themselves so that they were never surrounded by dog demons. They knew, even with their superior Adamantine Sword Art and Whorl Hand Art, being overwhelmed by these unmerciful and savage dog demons would only spell certain death.
That was why Raxri couldn''t just stand by and watch as a poor child-monk, no doubt circled off from the protection of other monks by the dog demons, was surrounded by at least five dog demons. The child, a boy, desperatly staved off the dog demons with a monk''s spade much too large for their hands, striking and slashing to no avail.
One of the demons brought with them a handgun. It fulminated with sorcerous energy.
The single shot kind, the kind one had no choice but to discard after unleashing its shot.
The demon aimed it at the child. [1.26] Heaven On Fire
AH - This holy syllable is the syllable of the Ancients, and is the first syllable of all things. Sound is the essence of all things. All things vibrate and extrude sound. AH is the primeval sound. It is used to start and end mantras, scriptures, and other kinds of prayers. From the Vajra Hibiscus Sutra
Raxri had no second thoughts. Harnessing all their Nihawa to quicken and lighten their entire body, they shot forward upon streamers of Nihawa. Light Body Technique hastening their movements, shooting them straight through the space in between them and the child-monk. Their Nihawa flowed so quickly that they felt their mouth dry, they felt their lungs empty out.
Raxri became a streak of black careening toward that island of violence. The other monks could not keep up with them; they stayed back fending off the other dog demons.
In the span of two heartbeats, Raxri was there, between the handgun and the child-monk.
Raxri screamed in pain; the bullet carved their back. The adrenaline that they had stored, however, released, flowing into every part of their body. Now moving upon wings of Nihawa, Raxri turned and sliced that dog demon in half with a single sure-stroke of their sword.
Two more dog demons descended upon Raxri, sword and spear slicing and hacking into their flesh. Wincing as they exerted effort, Raxri kicked the spear-wielding one away, leapt into the air to dodge another sword swing, and then used Devastating Red Hand to smash the dog demon straight into the earth. Their bones crunched before they unspooled into Sapi strands.
The spear wielding one stabbed again, and Raxri parried it away with their sword. They traded blows, steel clashing against steel. The dog demon managed to maneuver Raxri out of the way, and then unleashed a steel serpent onslaught at the young monk.
Raxri moved forward and couldn''t parry: their hand was pinned to their side. All they could do was take the spear''s stab onto their body. Then they held the spear so that it held fast into their chest--Raxri felt it puncture a lung. No matter. Moving upon winds of Nihawa, Raxri hacked off the dog demon''s surprised head, and it unspooled into a thousand Sapi strands.
Raxri fell to their knees, hands still at the spear. Stupid Raxri, they thought. Here you go again. What makes you think you can save everyone?
"Are you okay!?" It was the kid, shaking them out of their reverie.
Raxri smiled and nodded. "Everything''s okay. I''m here now." Pain erupted from them, blood dripped from their mouth.
"We should get you to the infirmary!"
"I''ll be fine!" Raxri screamed as they turned to the other dog demons. The dog demons had reached even this part of the monastery. Even more filed in, and Raxri shoved the kid to behind them. They rose to their feet and brandished their blade. "Demons! If you want the kid, you''ll have to go through me! I am the wall, now!" No way Raxri was going to run. They''d done that before, at the beginning of all this. They''d done that just for them to be saved, and it was mortifying. They were done being saved. It was time to seize what they could.
If I keep being saved... how can I save others? I have to save myself first. And Raxri knew that that was the most difficult thing one could ever hope to do.
Save one''s self.
It was no matter. If they died here it was no matter. The dog demons charged, spears and swords swinging and stabbing and striking. There were at least five of them.
Raxri did not remove the spear skewering their chest. I''d bleed out.
They''d rather die fighting on their feet than live on their knees.
Raxri exchanged blows with the dog demon soldiers, their monksword clashing with demon spears and blades. Despite the spear in their lungs they never weakened in speed nor strength. A combination of Whorl Hand, Devastating Red Hand, and Bladed Hand made quick work of the five demons. Parry into counter into strike with the blade into another strike with the Bladed Hand which fed into a counter. A counter move that allowed them to parry two weapons at the same time, and then a counterstrike to slice both those demons quickly.
Nevertheless, stray slashes and stray thrusts struck. That was the threat of violence after all. When one commits violence, you must also be ready to suffer violence in turn. Otherwise what you do is sheer stupidity, even one that the Holy Fool cannot patronize.
All sides of the coin will be slashed and cut.
Bleeding all over, Raxri managed to dispatch the five dog demons with a burst of energy pulled from the depths of their Sapi Furnace: a decapitation, two skewerings, a wide chest gash, and a waist bisection.
Afterwards, Raxri fell on one knee again, wincing, one eye closing.
"Ma''am, ma''am!" The monk boy had tears streaming down their face now. They ran over to Raxri and offered a pill. "Here! The great alchemist gave this to me. It will help you relieve your pain!"
"Just relieve my pain, right?" asked Raxri, straining, breathing, blood in their mouth. "It won''t heal my wounds?"
The monk boy looked like he''d been crying for hours with how red his eyes were. Raxri sighed and took the pill. "Thank you, young one. I''ll be fine, you see? Retreat to the house quarters. You''ve done your part."
The monk boy nodded. They turned and dashed towards one of the barricaded house quarters. Smelling fresh blood, some of the dog demon soldiers saw the escaping kid and ran after them. Raxri, now with relief running through their body, dashed once again and intercepted those demon soldiers. With an expert unleashing of their martial art, they handily exterminated those demons.
Unfortunately, dispatching these dog demons blew Raxri''s defenses wide open, and they became surrounded by dog demons once again. They had no choice but to engage again in violence, exchanging blows, overwhelming some, dodging and avoiding others, flipping over sword swings and sometimes even balancing delicately upon polearm shafts.
No end in sight... Raxri grimaced. They were forced to one foot as a spear thrust sliced into their thigh. "Argh!" They parried the spear away and with a furious indignation cut down that spear demon with a three-point slash.
Then, Pilinitala dove in, stabbing a dog demon that was about to slice Raxri open from behind. They were like a shooting star, monk spear shooting down and ripping the dog demon open. Then, as they helped Raxri to their feet, she shouted: "Yiwaritala! The Abbot!"
Further into the fray, amidst throngs of dog demons all trying to kill him, Yiwaritala to turn around and nodded. He dove himself out of the path.
Raxri, confused, turned.
The Abbot, wind whipping his balded form, descended to the ground. He walked into position, into the middle of the army. A straight line between him and the dog demon sorcerer that summoned the horde.
Abbot Wairojashra raised a single palm and chanted: "RAYUKINIG BUDDHA, AIROTSANA BUDDHA, AND KITAMA SANJAH BUDDHA." The Abbot moved his entire body in spiralling motions; the air flurried about him like a nascent tornado.
"TALA BUDDHA AND WANGGANG SENAG BUDDHA OF THE INFINITE LIGHT!" Energy cackled about the Abbot''s body. Raxri felt their hairs rise, as if they''d been struck by lightning.
The sound was akin to that of a keening thunderhead. Raxri''s mouth dried.
"KSEWRAN MURAT, THE TERMAGANT BUDDHA! SET MY HEART ABLAZE!"
Suddenly, a pindrop silence, as the Abbot pulled their hand back. The whole world inhaled.
"Witness my violence, that the wheel may be shattered..."
--when he exhaled, the world exploded--
"SIX BUDDHA PALM SUNDERS THE WHEEL!"
A beam of indescribably destructive light exploded from the Abbot''s outretched palm. Every demon in between him and the dog demon sorcerer was incinerated, completely erased from this reality and every other reality. The dog demon, at the last moment, uttered a magic spell that ripped its being out of reality just as the annihilating light eradicated the mountain path that it once stood upon.
The largest of the dog demons, clad in black steel armors and brocaded silks, carrying a giant longknife the length and width of an entire fully grown man, bellowed out: "Retreat! To the chieftain!"
The dog demons ran as fast as they could, scampering out of the way. The monks finished off the dog demons that chose to attack at this time, and the others that didn''t all managed to flee back into the mountain path. In a matter of seconds, the monastery was shorn of all dog demons, save for the lamellars, crude armor and weapons, and rusted blades of the would-be invaders.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Raxri, panting and tired, and with a spear stuck into their chest, collapsed onto their butt. Pilinitala and Ampun immediately saw Raxri and rushed over to them. As if to save Raxri from certain embarassment, both Ampun and Pilinitala sustained wounds of their own, though they looked nowhere close as battered as Raxri.
"I''m fine," said Raxri, panting.
"We''ll get you to the healer."
"I''m... fine..."
Raxri fell into the darkness.
When they awoke, they were upon another comfy mattress, staring at a clean brown ceiling. A comfortable cotton blanket wrapped upon them. Something warm, damp and heavy was on their forehead. They moved their hand to touch it but winced instead as pain shot up their arm.
"Careful there," said a deep, matronly voice. Raxri moved their eyes to see the woman doctor sitting upon a cushion, sitting relaxedly. Her skin was the color of inner bamboo. Her almond-shaped eyes had irises the color of bright gray diamonds. The folds above her eyes were so thick that it seemed as though she was perpetually sleepy, or perhaps she always kept her eyes in that heavily-lidded half-shut state? Her pitch black hair was tied up above her head in a strict ponytail, with loose strands of stringy hair falling lazily across her face.
She was writing upon palm leaf manuscripts on a wooden desk. Their writing implement was some sort of small bladed thing, lightly dipped in ink. It was a thorn of a calamansi for sure. "You''ve suffered multiple grievous wounds."
The woman doctor had their exceedingly long hair tied up into multiple layered buns atop their head, affixed with multiple long pins. She was clad in an interesting raiment--what looked like a brocaded cheongsam, a golden sash around her waist from which hung multiple bladed accoutrements and a single handgun, and a second silk cloth that wound about her arms like the decorative sash worn by gods. Her hands were wrapped in interesting embroidered gloves, though they were not rubber. They were cloth, but somehow sheened as if liquid. It took Raxri a bit to notice that they weren''t cloth at all! The "gloves" were actually excessively intricate hand tattoos that reached up to her upper forearm, made to look like embroidered gloves.
The room they were in was spacious. It took a bit for Raxri to realize they were back in their guestroom, just with one of the window slats closed. It was still a spacious space. No doubt this was more comfortable than having to lay alongside hundreds outside.
Raxri swallowed. After a great deal of effort, they managed to croak out: "Th-The boy monk...," Raxri coughed. "Is he...?"
She removed her spectacles and rubbed the base of her nose. "Otaketala? He''s fine. You, however, are not. Mighty stupid of you to be doing that, you know. Even with the proper rituals and medicines, outside of an outright miracle from the Buddhas themselves, it will take you at least a moon to heal from your wounds."
Raxri squeezed their eyes shut. "I''m sorry. I..."
"What, you lacked strength?" The doctor scoffed. "Blame not yourself. You''re no hero." She sighed. "You are a walker of the Path, nothing more. Gods, it is as if after taking the vows of the Bodhisattva, people like you begin throwing your own life to the wind! Self-preservation is just as important as self-sacrifice. Remember this."
Raxri bowed at the chiding, as they knew they should. "I''m sorry."
The doctor exhaled. "Forgive me. You are not the only injured in the attack." She bent forward and offered her hand. "I am Doctor Myu Fan. I''m a native here, hailing from the Nunuk League. I specialize in Elder Medicine and, as of five harvests ago, Esoteric Infinite Law Healing practices. It seems I''ve arrived at an auspicious time... I was just about to leave for home last night. Now I have to stay here to help healing with everyone."
"Um--" Raxri inhaled, gathering energy to speak, "I-I am Raxri Uttara. Student of Witch Akazha, Practitioner of the Whorl Hand and Adamantine Sword. Lightning-Enterer of the Infinite Law... um..."
"Huh, can''t believe that bitch took up a student," said Myu Fan, leaning backwards and crossing her arms in front of her admittedly bountiful breasts. "Never knew she''d waste her time like that."
"Ah--"
Myu Fan turned to Raxri and shook her head, as if lapsed out of a reverie. "Ah, yes. Forgive me. Yes, Raxri Uttara. You are one of the greatest casualties of this."
"Did any of the monks die?" asked Raxri.
Myu Fan was increasingly and visibly getting miffed at what Raxri was doing, ignoring all the questions and statements about them. "I... yes." Myu Fan sighed. "There were some monks that perished, sadly. But no doubt they will be reborn in better places due to the merit and karma they''ve cultivated here. In places wherein they will be able to better cultivate Liberation, if the teachings of the masters here are of any indication."
Raxri breathed.
"Blame not yourself for it," chided Myu Fan again. "They fought in the name of the Law. That is enough. Who knows, maybe one of the Bodhisattvas will bring them to their Pure Land to cultivate Liberation eternally."
This was no certain balm to Raxri''s thoughts, but then they realized that nothing will be a true balm to Raxri soul at this point. Wracked with worry and fear, with pity and apprehension, Raxri chose to change the subject instead. Hurt still struck through them like a lance, but they powered through. They endeavored not to show any of their pain on their face. "You''ve met the witch Akazha?"
Myu Fan smiled deviously. "Hmhm. More than just met, I''ve trained in some of the witch arts with her. Contemporaries, we are, though I am older by a few harvests."
"I see."
"That witch has never taken on a student before, you know. You must be something special."
Raxri realized she didn''t know who they were. This meant that she was new too; she hadn''t met them when they first came here a decade ago. Raxri shook their head and said, "Nay. In truth I am nothing but. I was shorn of memory when she found me shambling out of the Vault of Souls, is all. Until now, she endeavors to examine me and find out what exactly happened to my memory, that it would be removed upon awakening in the Vault."
"Huh. What, so you were once dead?" Myu Fan tapped her lips with her poker. "You speak in no jest? You yet live? Be careful not to befangle me with uninteresting jokes. As a doctor I must take this very seriously."
"Yes," said Raxri. As they spoke, they found strength returning to their arms and legs. Despite this, the pain was still fresh. "The... well, it was the witch Akazha that told me that the Vault of Souls has deigned to remove me of memory. Or something to that effect. I have no idea about anything as I''ve lost that memory, so I took it upon myself to believe her. I''m inclined to, she is a witch after all."
Right, sure." Myu Fan pouted. "How interesting. To be killed and then brought back to life with no memory. It were as if you were reincarnated within your own body. Is that possible? Do you remember anything at all from your past?"
Raxri shook their head. "Even when some people know of me, I cannot remember them. However, it seems my body remembers somewhat. I find that learning martial arts have come naturally to me, as if they were some muscle memory that I am but rediscovering."
"How... interesting. I will have to see what I can contribute to the discourse. Though... you will have to feed me information from your end. I cannot see Akazha."
Raxri tilted their head to the side and only winced. Their usual form of questioning was barred due to a slash that rested around their neck. "Why?"
"Ah... that is information for you to find out later, I suppose. There is some... unfinished enmity between us."
Wow. Who hasn''t Akazha courted death with? "I will keep that in mind," said Raxri. They tried getting up again, but the pain was far too great, despite the renewed vigor in their appendages. "I cannot move."
"Your will is strong but your body requires rest, despite it all," said Myu Fan, turning to write again onto the palm leaf manuscripts. "You will be falling asleep soon, in due time. You''ve been asleep for only one night. You need a bit more sleep to fully heal."
"But..."
"But what, Raxri Uttara, Once Dead?" Myu Fan''s face was half indignant, half annoyed, and somewhat cute despite it all.
"I need to train..."
"Training comes later. No training to be had as one heals, like how a muscle cannot grow without vacancy." She came in close, whispered something into her tattooed hands, and then said, "Lights out, Raxri Uttara." She had somehow managed to take crystalline dust from somewhere on her desk and blew it onto Raxri Uttara''s eyes. In short order, the dust made Raxri''s eyes too heavy, and they fell into the darkness of dreamless sleep.
As Raxri slept, Myu Fan finished the report about Raxri on the manuscript.
The door swung open. Yiwaritala, Pilintala, and Ampun walked in, clad in their working clothes. They each had sustained injuries--Yiwaritala to somewhere deadly near to his eye--but they were all in tip-top shape compared to Raxri''s condition.
"How fares Raxri?" asked Yiwaritala.
Myu Fan shrugged, putting down her writing stele. "Talkative. They woke up earlier and told me about Akazha."
Yiwaritala nodded, without looking at Myu Fan. Myu Fan was trying to look into Yiwaritala''s eyes but Yiwaritala was doing everything they could to avoid hers. She gave up eventually, saying, "Fascinating case, this one is. Walked out of the Vault of Souls without memory. If memory serves, nothing physical leaves the Vault of Souls. All those stuck there are there for certain eternity without reincarnation, barred from gaining a better rebirth, and barred from cultivating liberation."
Ampun said, "I''ve spoken with the Abbot about them, earlier. Looks like Raxri was a prodigious mystic and martial artist when they were about 15 harvests of age. Due to their voracious obsession with the hidden arts, and their aptitude for failure, they were able to attain cultivations that would match even those that have been training for hundreds of years."
"So, those still stuck within the second Desire Stratum," said Myu Fan, eyes bored. "We get prodigies such as that every other day in Shen."
"Shen?" Pilinitala asked, tilting their head to the side. Leaf-gauzes wrapped around her lower torso, making it so that she couldn''t reveal her abdomen. "I thought you were from the Nunuk League?"
Myu Fan nodded. "I am! But I studied for a year in Shennin libraries. I told you this story Pilinatala, why don''t you remember?"
"Oh." Pilinitala hit her head and stuck her tongue out. "Sorry. I forget!"
"Despite this, Raxri came alone," interjected Yiwaritala. "They weren''t accompanied by fellow accumulators. More importantly, they were coming here to get tattoos, but seemingly from the tattoo artist before Ampun Sagara here."
Ampun Sagara nodded. "However, I have no contact with that Tattoo Artist. I came 2 harvests after they arrived. Forgive me, I won''t be of too much help when it comes to that front."
"All I''m hearing is," said Myu Fan, "this Raxri fellow is one very interesting warrior. A prodigy eh? Not from here? Came without fellow accumulators? This doesn''t really tell me anything. It just tells me that maybe Raxri was someone of some import before!"
"I would''ve thought you''d heard about them since you did study in Shen, Myu Fan," said Yiwaritala.
Myu Fan shook her head. "Not in my regions of Shennin Society, no. The Utter Islands are a vast place, remember that. Wherever the wind blows, that''s where news and rumor goes. It just so happens that any news of this particular one has never blown my way."
A silence followed, as the four gathered their thoughts.
Pilinitala said, "So... what''s the plan with this one?"
"We will do as the Abbot instructed," replied Yiwaritala. "We will take them under our wing for a moon, and train them in the arts of the Adamantine Sword and the rituals of the Thunderbolt Path. They do not want to ordain, so they will not attain the higher austerities, but that is of no consequence. They will find higher Extinction methods through either the martial or mystic arts, if what the Abbot believes of them is true."
Ampun Sagara turned and raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"
Yiwaritala inhaled, and then exhaled. "That they were a being of the Third Stage of the Desire Realm." [1.27] Emancipations Brink
The Scarlet God Cult is a cult once vehemently opposed to the radical ideals of Liberation Law. However, they arrived jointly in the Utter Islands, and quickly mixed, through violent theological and critical scholarship. Both yet were valid ways of justifying Kinghood. The Priestess Queens of Old Selorong eventually wove them together, to prevent catastrophic infighting between powerful faiths, creating a new canon through the help of the Wizard Mystic Sakanra Siloma: the ascension of the Primeval Scarlet God to becoming the Primeval, Uncreated, Unborn Buddha who preceded all things, from whom the Law emanates so that liberation from the Spiral and Wheel is possible. Scripture of the Great Mantra Vehicle
"Ooh," Myu Fan bit her writing stele. "Big words."
"Perhaps they were even close to the first stage of Extinction as the Abbot spoke about," continued Yiwaritala, still managing to avoid Myu Fan''s eyes. "But it is an important feat all the same. Our Adamantine, Thunderbolt Path, after all, stresses the lightning realization of Liberation."
"Right," said Ampun Sagara. "Perhaps they were missing a few rituals... or ink."
"They have some interest in getting more talisman tattoos I''m sure," said Yiwaritala. "But let us wait for them to wake before we paint their skin any more." Ampun Sagara only nodded.
"So you''re teaching them?" Myu Fan asked Yiwaritala, pointing her stele.
Yiwaritala only nodded. "The Abbot expressed interest in wanting to teach Raxri Uttara personally, so I might only have to step in during the times where the Abbot is not free and preoccupied with his other duties here in the monastery. But yes."
"Fascinating. Training straight from the abbot huh?" Myu Fan leaned forward to the unconscious Raxri. "You must be a bigger deal than I thought."
"Yeah I don''t get it," said Pilinitala. "If they''re some prodigious accumulator, so what? There''s plenty of those in the Utter Islands right? And they always end up dead anyway. What makes Raxri so special in that regard?"
Ampun Sagara smiled. A shock of realization, as if they finally understood what the Abbot was trying to do. Shrugging he said, "Nothing. Nothing makes Raxri special in that regard. And perhaps... that is exactly it. They''re a non-special that has a lot of potential! Perhaps that is the thinking of the abbot!"
Yiwaritala only smiled. He knew the real reason, but it was a reason that still felt flimsy to him until now, looking upon Raxri battered and bruised. The most damaged among all of them, save for the few that had been killed in action.
When Raxri awoke, the room was empty. On the table was a small jade bottle with a note beside it written in a jade strip that said,
"Drink upon waking! Please! I will know if you don''t! - MF your Doctor <3"
"MF?" Raxri looked up to think but immediately realized anyway. "Ahh... Myu Fan. Hah." They sat up, realizing now that they could rise on their own and their muscles did not protest at their every move. They took the bottle, pulled off its phoenix head, and drank the contents. It was a sharp, almost alcohol-like mixture, but the taste of medicine was sharp still. They swallowed it in its entirety. Wincing, they put the bottle down, and then watched the morning light from their window.
The brimstone smell that the demons had brought with them had almost entirely been replaced by the smell of incense now. It felt good to inhale. This entire time, Raxri realized just how much the fumes of demonic brimstone was interfering with the clean flow of their Nihawa.
No time to waste. Let''s try this again.
They sat, foot over foot in that lotus position. They hearkened back to what Akazha had taught them about meditation and concentration. They closed their eyes and concentrated on their breathing, on the ticks of their muscles. They focused on their act of meditation, and in so doing became full ymindful and aware of everything that happened about them. The soft cotton of the mattress, the slow breeze that wafted in from outside, half cold, half humid. The rustling of the leaves. The sharp tangy taste that the medicine left in their mouth. The sound of bells being rung from outside. The sound of monks and nuns conversing. It was all back to business for them, as if such a harrowing attack hadn''t just struck them.
Or perhaps these monks were so well versed to such adversity that they never wallowed in it.
But what virtue is in that? thought Raxri. In not being allowed to grieve? Oh, but then they realized that perhaps they did grieve, and they never clung to their grief. They only allowed it to live and linger, but there was no attachment to the grief. They did not allow it to define them, for no one thing truly defined a single person. This... this was a teaching. This is a teaching no doubt.
A voice cut through them. "Good. You''re up. And you seem to be back in shape."
Raxri exhaled and opened their eyes slowly. Myu Fan was kneeling before them, hand reaching out. Out of instinct, Raxri flinched and tried to move out of the way.
"Becalm yourself. I must check your temperature." Raxri sheepishly allowed Myu Fan to lay the back of their hand upon their forehead. Raxri could feel the bumps of their tattooed hand against theirs. "Temperatures are down, that''s for sure. A good sign. Though I will advise against hard physical training right now, but you should be clear for any mental trainings."
"Thank you, doctor." Raxri noticed the dark circles around her topaz-colored eyes. She looked emaciated. Her intricate pagoda-like hair had been torn loose and tied into a messy ponytail instead high above her head, so as to not get in the way of her hands. Her slightly corpulent form seemed to deflate. "You must be tired."
"Oh, that is not even the start of it," said the Doctor, falling onto the cushion in front of the wooden desk where Raxri first saw them. "The majority of the monks that survived are on sure paths to recovery. In no small part because of the Abbot''s healing chants, of course."
"They''re doing healing chants?"
The doctor nodded. "What did you think the bell sounds are for? They are invoking the Buddha to heal those that have been struck."
Raxri sighed. "The demon hordes are truly a blight upon this world."
Myu Fan smiled. She removed her spectacles and wiped them with her sash. "That they are."
Raxri pushed themself off of their mattress--wincing all the while--and said, "Here, doctor. Please."
"Yes, good. Get some fresh air. Walk around outside. That should--" she yawned. "--get you some good circulation going. Would be good for your Nihawa." She fell asleep before she could get onto the mattress.
Sighing, Raxri pushed the doctor onto the mattress they had just vacated, pushing her here and there so that she lay in a most comfortable position. When that was done, Raxri turned and left.
They took their time, walking out into the courtyard. The majority of the monks and nuns that they walked past greeted them good mornings, even mentioning their name. That made Raxri''s eyebrow rise, but they shrugged it off anyway.
Sweeping the courtyard was Pilinitala. When she noticed Raxri, she waved and bounced over to them. "Hey Raxri. Looks like you''re finally up. I have--"
"How long was I gone?"
"Give or take three days?" said Pilinitala. "I lost count, unfortunately, during the entire time. Having to heal a surplus of injured monks would do that to you." Raxri could do nothing but take Pilinitala at her word at that moment. "Anyway, I have someone you might want to meet!" She pulled Raxri over to one of the inner courtyard''s ponds, where the small monk that had been fighting with a monk''s spade was removing bits and pieces of fallen leaf and other detritus with a makeshift net. "Otaketala!"
Otaketala looked up. The little boy''s eyes gleamed when they saw Raxri was okay. Though, Raxri was still mostly covered up in gauzes to keep the poultices in place and pushing into the wounds. It was true that they looked better than they did when they were walking around with a spear jutting out of their chest.
They realized then that their breathing did take a hit. They were breathing just a bit faster now, despite only walking around. Each breath felt like trying to pull it from shrunken lungs.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Otaketala ran in and hugged Raxri. "Raxri Uttara! I''m so glad you''re awake and not dead!"
Raxri Uttara chuckled and hugged Otaketala back with a single hand. "Ah, it will take more than some spears and some bullet holes to stop this one."
"You were so hurt. I''m sorry I was not stronger!"
"Worry not about it," said Raxri, suddenly serious. "You are a child. Your responsibility is to follow what your heart says, not to accrue power. You are in our care."
"I know, but still..." tears welled up in Otaketala''s eyes. Raxri shook their head and pat them.
"It''s okay, it''s okay. Thank you. You were brave, Otaketala. Do not worry about it overmuch. You will become stronger."
"I want to be strong like you, Raxri! I want to protect my brothers and sisters like you did!"
Raxri smiled. But I didn''t protect them, though. Others died. I almost died doing so. If I were to protect you I have to be stronger than those dog demons. Raxri realized their somber face, and shook it off. They smiled and said: "That''s a promise, okay? If you''re going to get stronger, then so will I. Let''s both be the strongest in the world, okay?"
Otaketala grinned so wide. Bless his soul. Snot dripped from his sniffling nose. "Okay! I promise!"
At Sun''s Zenith, everyone gathered to eat. Here, in this monastery, they ate a mix of meat and vegetables. Somehow, Raxri thought it weird. They always thought monks could only eat vegetables, out of some principle of not killing others.
"Huh," said Raxri as they sat beside Pilinitala and Yiwaritala. Ampun Sagara was with them too: they sat on an octagonal table. Myu Fan was nowhere to be found however, and the Abbot was similarly absent. "Are monks not vegetarian? Abstaining from the eating of meat?"
"It only really depends on what we''ve begged for that day," replied Pilinitala. "Often we get rice with pork or fish, along with vegetables. It''s fine as long as we don''t kill the animals! That is the nature of the Wheel anyway."
"Such distinctions are illusion at the end of it all," said Yiwaritala, as they sat, cross-legged, upon a flower brocade cushion. The eating hall was tall, and had two levels to it. Giant windows allowed wind gods to dance and provide balmy breezes to the feasting monks.
Their lunch for that day seemed to be a mix of a river spinach, white rice, and sardines. "These are the foods you''ve gained from begging today?" asked Raxri, wondering why they didn''t go begging.
Pilinatala shook her head. Joyfully, she tore off a piece of the fish with her spoon, scooped it along with some rice, and shoved it into her mouth. "Mmh!" she said, clearly delighted. "These were brought in by some Nunuk villages after finding out what happened. You see, Giant Stone Monastery is also a common bulwark against such attacks. There are multiple monasteries placed around the mountains that create the vale that end up as fortressess and keeps that protect the Nunuk villages upon the vale. When they learned of our plight, they immediately gave us food to help in our recuperatory efforts."
"I see." Raxri looked down at the food, which was arranged in beautiful earthenware bowls. They scooped some food and rice, and the flavors exploded in Raxri''s mouth. They noticed that in the middle of the table were platelets that had soy sauce seasoned with peppers. It emanated a certain smell that only made Raxri hungrier. They noticed that both Yiwaritala and Ampun Sagara were dipping their rice and fish on the soy sauce before spooning it into their mouths.
Raxri did the same. Oh, what deliciousness! The flavors danced on their tongue and then shot arrows of savory taste down their throat, as if wielding pepper-shaped longbows! Bliss overcame them then, and they couldn''t help but thank all the gods and all the Buddhas for being alive just for this moment.
Yiwaritala smiled and let out an airy laugh. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, Raxri Uttara."
"I suppose I haven''t been able to eat much ever since I arrived in the Monastery," replied Raxri, continuing to eat their food. "What a delight of a meal."
Yiwaritala''s sharp features softened then. A sense of calm, almost tenderness, washed over him. How odd, he no doubt thinks. To have such a warrior clad now in blood and scar... be so endearing and eager. Yiwaritala ate their food now with renewed vigor. The food seemed tastier now, though they had slowly weaned themselves off of depending on the pleasures things in the phenomenal world brought.
Ampun Sagara was enjoying his food as well, eating with his fingers and spoon. As he ate, he beckoned to Raxri, "Noble warrior, if you will."
"Hm?" Raxri''s mouth was still filled with food.
"Know you that that talismanic tattoo you have upon your forearm is a shielding tattoo?"
Raxri, mouth still filled with food, shook their head.
Ampun Sagara nodded, understanding. "So you truly have no knowledge of ever having taken that tattoo? How unfortunate. If I were only here earlier, I would have been able to give you that tattoo. It''s unfortunate as well that none of the other monks nor nuns remember you!"
"Even if they did," interjected Yiwaritala. "They would no doubt know no more than the Abbot. And the Abbot only interacted with them slightly. Though... hm..." Yiwaritala stared at Raxri''s tattoo. "I''m sure that the Abbot would know the previous tattooist that would''ve applied that shielding tattoo upon you."
Ampun Sagara nodded. "Exactly. But ah, the Abbot must meditate. How about it, Raxri Uttara. You''ve clearly proven yourself. What about I add to your collection?"
Raxri, still with food in their mouth, lifted their forearm and pointed at it, "Mm?"
Ampun Sagara nodded. "A single shielding tattoo might do you good, but multiple will create a latticework of defense and fortune that will render you a bulwark against both physical and magical assaults. No doubt an important quality for you, as someone who... um... suffice it to say, someone who loves using one''s body as a shield."
Raxri swallowed and laughed. "I will get stronger yet so that I will not be a casualty in the future! Ouch." A sting ran up one of their wounds and they caressed it slowly.
"Worry not, worry not," said Ampun Sagara. "You have parts of you that are not yet wounded. Those I will tattoo--"
"--Let them heal first, Ampun!" yelled Pilinitala, who was likewise preoccupied with shoving her face full. "Tattooing can hurt you know. Just because you''re used to the pain doesn''t mean Raxri can take it in their current state."
Raxri''s gaze turned from Pilinitala to Ampun. Ampun sighed and rubbed their head. "I suppose you''re right," he said. "A moon''s worth of waiting will do you good. Before you head on out, remind me that you have a session with me."
Raxri nodded, eager. "What tattoos will I be getting, Ampun?"
"Seeing as you have the basic Defense Tattoo," he said, pointing at Raxri''s left forearm. "It only makes sense to complete it on the other side, so that you may find yourself protected on both arms. Then, perhaps... a latticework Diamond Shield Tattoo upon your back to protect you from malaise and curse. Then perhaps a Tiger Tattoo upon your sword hand shoulder to strengthen your blows? In truth, I believe it will be up to the Abbot."
"The Tiger Tattoo improves my strength?"
Ampun smiled. "One could say that," he said. "Though the strength improved is still drawn from your own Sapi. Should you not have the Sapi reserves required for such a powerful augmentation, then the tattoos will do nothing."
Raxri chewed again on a sardine. "I see. I will do well to refine my Sapi, then."
Yiwaritala nodded. "You will be doing just that, after you''ve healed a bit more."
For the rest of the day, Raxri did nothing much but relax, allowing their body time to heal. At around the latter half of the day, the doctor Myu Fan had walked out. Her eyes were hollow and seemed even smaller without her spectacles. She had a short food break in the eating hall, before returning to check up on her patients.
The first one she checked up on was Raxri, who was watching Yiwaritala drill a whole squadron of young monks in martial drills. They were a mesmerizing watch, to be sure: rows upon rows of saffron robed monks, moving and fighting with the ferocity of a tiger, striking with nothing but their fists and clawed hands, their bare feet. Raxri remembered Yiwaritala''s fighting form then, during the assault. The way he summoned the visage of a water buffalo and barreled through the unsuspecting demon warriors... Yiwaritala held untold martial proficiency, Raxri knew.
"How fare you?"
Raxri looked up to see Myu Fan, eating a rice ball peppered with seaweed and peppers.
"Um," Raxri looked at the martial drill, and then up at Myu Fan again. Their entire body was still essentially covered in gauzes, so they couldn''t participate in the martial drills no matter how much they wanted to. "Just fine, I suppose."
"No more pain?"
Raxri shook their head. "Still a good amount of pain, unfortunately."
"It should take you a few more days before you''re fully healed," said Myu Fan. "But after that, you should be ready to go. I can see you''re raring to get back into your training, like the reckless fool that you are."
Raxri felt like they should be offended, but try as they might they couldn''t. They only laughed. "If being a fool means helping those that I had the capacity to help, then I am a fool!"
"Ugh," Myu Fan pinched the top of her nose again. "You''re insufferable. I need coffee."
"Coffee?"
Myu Fan made a face. They were really, really fed up with Raxri. But they did this in the most affectionate way possible. "Keep healing. Don''t move too much." And then they walked away, seemingly back into the eating hall.
Raxri watched the young monks and nuns perform their martial drills. Now they were wielding wooden staffs, slamming and striking with both hands. Performing acrobatic feats such as flipping in mid-air, balancing upon the staff, or leaping and then using the staff as a pole to boost their forward movement. Raxri''s jealousy was past the Firmament, and they could only slightly mimic the movements while they sat upon the wooden bench.
Days flashed by, without Raxri even realizing. Their wounds healed in short order, though now they were covered in scars. After the sixth day of healing, when the bullet wound on their back felt no longer like a bullet wound and more like a phantom scar, Raxri was called by the Abbot.
As they walked toward the meditation house, Raxri realized just how quickly their wounds had healed. Perhaps this was due to the relentless work of Myu Fan, they conjectured. Twice a day they drank a medicinal pill, and once a day Myu Fan fumigated Raxri in healing smokes. In the middle of their healing period, at the fourth day, Myu Fan even massaged them completely, head to toe, limbering their muscles. After all that, they awoke on the sixth day as if all they''ve contracted was the common cold.
They met the Abbot again in the meditation house. It was just the two of them, then. No Yiwaritala, no Pilinitala, no Ampun Sagara, no doctor Myu Fan. Simply the Abbot Wairojashra.
"Have you healed?" asked the Abbot, sitting in a lotus position underneath the great Termagant Buddha.
Swallowing, Raxri nodded. "I suppose. My wounds seemed to have abated in their pain for now."
"Good," said the Abbot. "Starting today and for a moon henceforth, I will be training you in the Sword Cultivation of the Adamantine Sword. Follow me." [1.28] Adamantine Lightning Strikes
Existence is eventual suffering, and removal from this world is the only way to avoid it. However, death only begets rebirth. And rebirth only begets life. This cycle is known as Wandering. To escape Wandering is to live through billions of lives until one finally understands the truth of nature and is Buddha. When one dies, one is reborn according to the karmic consequences of their actions of the current life. To have less karma is to be reborn in better realms, such as the God or Magick Beings Realm. To be free of reincarnation is to achieve the revalatory gnosis that one has always been Buddha. The Nature of the Buddhas is also the Uncreated Scarlet God, permeating, the ultimate essence of reality is its destruction. From the Vajra Hibiscus Sutra
Raxri Uttara and Abbot Wairojashra descended down the mountain''s deadly slopes once again to return to the bamboo grove. When they returned, Raxri felt the grove to be larger than before. By the corner of the grove there was a small stilt house, with a roof of cogon grass and walls of thick hardwood, but with pillars made only of bamboo poles.
In the bamboo grove, Abbot Wairojashra walked over to the shrine and performed another obeisance, bowing three times. Raxri did the same.
"Have you eaten?" the Abbot asked, afterwards.
Raxri blinked, and said, "N-No, Abbot. I have not broken my fast yet."
"Good. Let us start with a voided stomach, so that the mind may work its wonders."
"Pardon the servant, teacher," said Raxri. "Is it all right if I ask you why you''ve chosen to train me all of the sudden?" Despite their seeming hesitance, when the teacher summoned a sword out of thin air and tossed it to Raxri, they all too eagerly caught it and moved it around.
The Abbot smiled and said, "I owe you as much," said the Abbot. "If you are to fulfill your Bodhisattva Vows, you must be able to meet force with force. That is the teaching of the Termagant Buddha."
"I see." They turned and looked at the house. "Did the Abbot have this prepared for me as well?"
The Abbot nodded. They pulled out their own sword. Both their swords were mostly nondescript, but both were real blades, with edges razor sharp. "I will teach you all that you can muster during the single moon of time that we have. Afterwards, you may return to your mystic master."
"Well, Akazha never told me anything about being too quick. I would imagine I have enough time yet," said Raxri.
The Abbot raised an eyebrow. "Very well then. If you leave the time up to me, then I will train you for three months. Will that be satisfactory?"
Raxri nodded. "I will learn all I can, master."
"Good. I am now your sword master. In this ritual of training, I shall transmit to you the teachings of the Adamantine Sword. Ready your blade, Raxri Uttara. We''ve no time to waste."
The day flashed by then. From sunrise to sunset, they trained. However, their training was not grueling: nay, this one was filled with intermissions and breaks, so that none of Raxri''s old wounds would swell and open up.
"I was told it was imperative not to break you as of yet," said the Abbot, laughing, as they chewed on betel nut together, reveling in camaraderie.
"Who told you this? Myu Fan?"
The Abbot nodded, smiling again.
Their training was holistic. Just like with Akazha, they trained in the various forms and the various defenses of the blade. The Adamantine Sword, as already stated, emphasized quick thwipping motions with the wrist, and strange backhand slaps into forehand chops that looked almost impossible to guard. The footwork was also something that threw Raxri for a loop. The movement was strange, almost like liquid lightning. A half step turned into a cross-legged step, turned into a far step. The movements were all deliberate, deliberate, deliberate.
But when the Abbot quickened the pace, and showed the true applications of the movements, Raxri realized that the deliberateness was imperative to truly perform the actions and not to shorten the movements, and thus make the movements less impactful and making it more difficult to learn the more advanced techniques. Only the true actions had the full breadth of the speed and strength of the Adamantine Sword. When the Abbot cut, they cut so fast that lines of light followed the arc of their blade, before shimmering into wind.
When the sun finally set, the Abbot went into the temporary housing they''d prepared for Raxri and lit it with lotus lights. "You will be staying here." The floors were bamboo slats, and there were no comfortable mattresses fo Raxri to lie upon. Instead there was a simple woven textile mat on the ground, compounded with a banig placed atop it. There was a mosquito net, thankfully. "Should you sleep, you should not sleep in utmost darkness. You must sleep with your awareness intact, so that should any vagrant strike at you while you slumber, you will be able to parry their very strikes."
Raxri understood the reasoning behind it, and they were inclined to agree.
"I will return to the monastery, and will wake you upon the morning."
Raxri said their thanks, and the Abbot left.
In the middle of the stilt cottage was a quaint table. Pills and bottles lay atop it. A note from doctor Myu Fan told Raxri: drink both the pills and the bottles after eating but before going to bed.
Beside it, a porcelain plate of cooked deermeat, large cabbage leaves, and white rice. It had cooled down, now, but it was still delicious.
Sighing, Raxri followed the instructions on the table, ate, and then downed both the pills and the medicine bottle before going to bed.
Despite the less than comfortable beddings they had been given, Raxri fell into slumber the very second their head hit the pillow. Their fatigue gave them no recourse.
The next day, Raxri awoke to the ritualistic serene sounds of a tinkling bell. They pushed themself off of their bed and rubbed at their eyes.
Another day, another grueling training session.
Thankfully, any fatigue they had from the day before was nothing but a memory.
Raxri performed their stretchings before they walked out of their cottage. There, upon a table placed on the elevated front porch, the Abbot sat, back straight like a blade. The look on his face was serene. Upon the table there was white rice, hard boiled eggs, and then a porcelain cup.
"Come. Sit."
Raxri did so. "We leap not into training...?"
The abbot shook their head, smiling all the while. "No need. The morning is early. See, the sun has barely broken the waters of the horizon. And so shall we. Rest is the most important aspect of training. If we rush, the only thing chasing you will be death."
"Death?" Raxri began eating the food with a spoon. A generous amount of pepper had been cooked into it, giving it a lively, spicy taste.
"Yes. Training too hard in the Adamantine Sword can very well bisect your very soul. And so we rest. My goal is to teach you three harvests'' worth of the Adamantine Sword into three months. Doing this will be certain suicide without proper rest."The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
"Three harvests worth?" Three years. A long time. "Abbot, there is no need to condense it so tightly. I am sure I can stay for longer than three moons."
"If we manage to get through one or two harvests worth of training in three months, then I will be happy and satisfied. I will not be able to teach you further than three moons. I must away to a particular council after the three moons. Somewhere in the great island of Ra-om."
Raxri only nodded, in understanding now. A certain time limit would no doubt light a fire under anyone. Though, Raxri still wondered why they had to learn so much still. They figured to trust in the process and keep faith: no use in squabbling over every little detail.
"You know, it is interesting. When you arrived here, you were not a sword-wielder. If I remember correctly, your skill with the staff and trident was indomitable, but I never saw that for myself."
"Interesting. Then this thing I''m learning... I''ve never done it before?" Then what was that muscle reflex? That muscle memory?
"Well, perhaps you have. I''m not saying you didn''t know, and more of that you never showed me."
Raxri nodded and continued munching on their food. As Raxri ate, the Abbot reached for the ewer and tipped the spout over into Raxri''s cup. A flow of dark brown liquid.
"What''s this?" asked Raxri, mouth still full of eggs and rice.
"Coffee," said the Abbot. "This will no doubt help you in your awakening, both immediate and later."
"Immediate?"
"Coffee is like tea. It is a stimulant, but with much stronger caffeine. The gods of the coffee bean are a rowdy bunch, you know. Coffee will help you awaken immediately, and will no doubt help in your training. However, you can only drink this every once in a while, lest you develop an attachment and addiction to it. Addiction to coffee will break one of the many precepts of the Adamantine Path. In fact, addiction to anything causes that."
"Okay. Should I drink it?"
The Abbot nodded.
Raxri swallowed their rice and then sipped some of the coffee. It was bitter at first, but it soon became somewhat sweet and even a bit smoky in its flavor. A few more sips, and Raxri felt something rising, like their Sapi was stimulated and boiling. "I feel like running."
"No doubt," said the Abbot. "What else do you feel?"
"Relaxed, somewhat."
The Abbot raised an eyebrow. "That only happens to those with quick-souls. The ones that cannot truly focus. Interesting."
They wrote something down on palm leaf manuscript.
Raxri sipped again and said, "All of you are writing stuff about me."
"It is all in an effort to help understand what exactly has happened to you. And of course, to help you find out who you exactly are."
Who I am? Raxri never thought about it in that way before. All they know is that they are, at that moment. They were Raxri Uttara.
The Abbot put down their pen and rose to their feet. "Once you have finished, let us begin."
That day''s training unspooled quickly. Raxri wasn''t sure if it was the coffee that spiked their performance, or if it was because they were getting better health wise, but they picked up the lessons quicker and were getting to focus their meditation and concentration down better. They could practice their mindfulness with better clarity, and their battle meditation seemed to sharpen.
They got so far as to performing techniques that the Abbot wasn''t counting on having to be taught!
The sun was far down her arc when the Abbot said: "I will be teaching you the Adamant Lightning Strikes Techniques, starting with the first."
"Adamant Lightning Strikes?"
The Abbot nodded. "Witness." They turned around and kicked a piece of bamboo into the air. Before it could complete its descent, the Abbot sidestepped to the right while unleashing five strikes in between heartbeats. The bamboo fragmented into seven pieces before falling to the ground. "Adamant Lightning Strikes."
"Whoa."
"This will be difficult, at first," said the Abbot. "Usually we begin by teaching this through the usage of bamboo sticks or rattan sticks. The movement is easier to teach that way, due to the quickness this technique demands. However, since you''ve shown certain aptitude to fighting with the sword, and since we''ve already begun your training with the sword, we might as well continue all the way. Now, follow after me."
A few more hours followed of Raxri getting the movements, the applications, the body dynamics of the first Adamant Lightning Strikes technique. Raxri decided that learning that technique was definitely pushing their capabilities. At the end of the day, they still weren''t able to pull it off cleanly. Their wrists felt like they were shattered, and blisters opened on their fingers and other parts of their hands and palms.
The Abbot was not kidding when they were moving into the Advanced Techniques.
"Good. That will be all for today," said the Abbot, when the sun completely descended below the horizon, though her rays and light still showered halogen pastel hues upon the sky.
Raxri fell onto their butt, and then onto their back. Their chest heaved, as they gasped for air. Their sword fell to the side.
"Fatigued, I see?"
"The advanced techniques truly are advanced!"
"You''ve made tremendous progress all the same. Your muscle memory fails you not. Let us hope it carries you far, Raxri Uttara. You were said to be a great swordhand before you were shorn of your memory. We will endeavor that you will re-attain that title and exceed it."
Still gasping for air, Raxri Uttara said: "Understood, teacher."
The Abbot smiled. He offered his hand. "Rise. Your food is here."
Pilinitala and Myu Fan were there in the bamboo grove, bringing with them a clay pots of rice and beef stew. Smelling the food, Raxri immediately rose to their feet. "Ah! Finally!"
"Hi Raxri! You must be hungry, huh?"
Raxri nodded as they followed the food, which they placed inside the cottage. "Here, eat," said Myu Fan. Raxri didn''t need to be told at that point. They were gorging upon the food before they were even given a spoon. "Hungry. How is his training, master Abbot?"
The Abbot was there inthe cottage room with them. "It continues at a blistering pace. This is a good sign."
"I take it you are not pushing them too hard, Abbot," said Myu Fan, taking a drag of their pipe. "Keep in mind that they are still a recovering patient of mine."
"I understand this full well, Myu Fan," said the Abbot, smiling. "Worry not. I have been lenient with them. They are training and resting all at the same time."
"Good." Myu Fan placed another bottle onto the table. "Raxri, once you''re done. Be sure to eat these. Understood?"
Raxri nodded, mouth full of rice. "Thank you for the food."
"You''re welcome," said Pilinitala, grinning.
"It was our great student Pilinitala that cooked that," said Abbot Wairojashra. "They are a great cook, and is one of their means of helping the monastery and thus produce great merit."
Raxri nodded, but said nothing. They still ate. The beef stew was a perfect end to the day. Hot, with fat rendered tender and soft... The meat seemed to fall off the bone. It was perfectly cooked: even the cabbages only added to the flavor!
Pilinitala pat Raxri''s head, no doubt enjoying the fact that Raxri was enjoying the food. "Yes, you enjoy. The doctor put in some medicinal herbs in there as well so you should be healing up in no time."
"Doctor," said the Abbot. "Do you not think that overwhelming Raxri''s body with curatives might spell certain doom?"
The doctor shook their head. "When looking at their condition, and the training they have to face, I''m not placing enough curatives, it seems." She sighed. "But this is important. This Raxri Uttara needs to be able to protect themselves. They need that power. I know what kind of person this one is."
Raxri blinked. "Am I this predictable, doctor Myu Fan?"
Myu Fan only smiled. "I''ll be heading off now. I must leave in the morrow for my village once again, so I will be leaving you with half a moon''s worth of medicine. I''ll return as soon as I can."
The Abbot bowed to Myu Fan. "The monastery thanks you for all your efforts, doctor. You have generated much positive karma and merit for yourself. May wisdom and compassion guide your every step."
Myu Fan bowed as well. "I am truly sorry for what has happened to you. Here''s to hoping it will cease soon, and you will be able to practice in peace. Thank you, Abbot."
Pilinitala said, "You better finish your food, okay Raxri?" Raxri nodded, and then Pilinitala headed off with the doctor, back to the monastery grounds.
The Abbot, smiling, said, "Pilinitala was not always a great cook, did you know? She knew nothing about cooking until after she arrived here. Thankfully, she had no choice but to be a great cook."
"Why is Pilinitala here in the monastery?"
The Abbot shrugged. "That is a story for Pilinitala to tell. However, the long and short of it is that Pilinitala was once the princess daughter of a noble of the island city known as Kannan. Her house was ravaged after an attack from a despot of Wo. They never truly recovered, and so she traveled here. She has no family, and so she found one in us instead."
"How sad."
"Indeed. But that is the usual origin of a renunciate. Someone who has turned to austerities in the face of the evils of the world." The Abbot sighed. "Make no mistake, Raxri Uttara. Though the world be dead and forsaken, beauty exists within it yet. Ugliness arises from beauty, you see. In the same way death arises from life. In the same way that Phenomenal Reality arises from Buddha Nature. I bid my leave. Rest well, Raxri Uttara." And the Abbot was gone.
Raxri finished their food and drank their medicine. They pondered upon the final words of the Abbot before leaving. Death from Life. Ugliness from Beauty. They could tell, deep within their Enlightenment-Mind, that this was true. The nuggets of truth always came from the paradoxical, impossible to understand statements, they found. But their mind-cultivation was not yet at the level that they could quickly ascertain the true meaning of such words. Only to realize that they were inexplicably true.
After meditating upon those words, relaxing their breath and waiting for their mind to calm, Raxri Uttara retreated into slumber once again. [1.29] A Lesson In Ultraviolence
The Adamantine Sword is part of a six-part series of weapons. Vajra Shield, Thunderbolt Staff, Adamantine Sword, Diamond Spear, Indestructible Body, and Emptiness Mace. Once, when the Vajra Wielder School was still complete, the premier guardians of buddhas, one could learn them all. Unfortunately, the Latter Day of the Law has caused disorder to break apart the sect, scattering their masters across the Nine Nihawa. Hence why the six different arts are now separate. From the Adamantine Sword Manuscript
"When will I attain Accumulation Stage, Abbot?" asked Raxri once, as they rested, eating a sticky sweet rice confection made out of coconut milk, brown sugar, and aforementioned sticky sweet rice. It was known as kalamay in the islands.
The Abbot looked at Raxri for a moment, and then said, "It shouldn''t be too long, now. But you will need a great fount of Sapi to take it from. Continue your meditation, the Merciful Hearer grants you bounteous Sapi that you would not otherwise be able to accumulate."
And so Raxri followed, meditating every day for at least two hours.
Raxri eventually was deemed possible of learning another secret of the Adamantine Sword. This Killer Technique was monikered: Heavenly Lightning Saber. The way the Abbot showed it was by leading Raxri past the bamboo grove, deeper into the forests of Pemi Island, until they arrived in a clearing somewhere where a great boulder stood. Upon closer inspection, the "boulder" was reflecting the color of the Firmament, as if it were part of the Firmament.
"This is a Sky Stone," said the Abbot. "A piece of the sky that had fallen and did not burn up. These are not meteors nor comets: those are residue of Flying Stars. Nay, these are true shards of the sky. Their stone is malleable, and can be refined and used as weapons, in truth, much in the same way that jade and obsidian are used."
"Truly?"
"Yes. And only proper techniques can cut it. Witness." The Abbot brandished their blade and placed it in front of them, facing the flat of the blade. They closed their eyes and touched their forehead against the cold steel of their sword, and then continuously uttered a mantra.
Raxri could feel the gathering Sapi, carried by thundering Nihawa. It was like a keening thunderhead; Raxri''s hairs stood on their end. It felt like when the ocean would gurgle and heave first before unleashing a wave.
And then, the Abbot chanted: "Heavenly Lightning Saber!" They swung three times, his feet never touching the ground as they sliced, moving and twisting their entire body. Razor sharp lines of pure Sapi emanated from the slicing sword''s tip, cutting and shearing into the Sky Stone. The fragments fell unto the ground, cleanly cut, without any further fragmentation. A jeweller''s dream.
"And this I now shall teach you." He swung his sword about him in wide circles, and then said, "Take upon the Gathering Thundercloud Stance. This stance serves nothing but to prepare for the sharpening of your Sapi." Blade behind him, the Abbot twisted into a cross-legged stance, and then bent low. Their center of gravity lowered. As they lowered, Raxri could see colorful streaks of Sapi erupting from them, like a fount.
Raxri followed, doing the same stance. They bent low, their feet burning in pain as they held the cross-legged stance. The lower they did the stance, the more difficult it was, but the heavier their center of gravity was and the more their Sapi squirmed to leap out of them.
"Then, move your blade in a wide arc, catching the streams of Sapi." The Abbot twirled their sword about as they arced it over them. A less-skilled swordhand would have harmed themselves doing such a dangerous maneuver. The Abbot did it easily, and Raxri did it as well. They had practiced this very maneuver with their fundamentals. They took extra pains to perfect this one particularly because this maneuver (which they called Dancing Dragon Razor) cut Raxri multiple times!
But when Raxri did it now, concentrating their Sapi into their blade as they swung it around them, empowered by the Gathering Thundercloud Stance, they not only performed it scatheless, they felt the power thrumming through the spine of their sword. It shuddered with anticipation, ready to strike, ready to unleash horrible horrible violence.
"Now hold it! The better the swordmaster, the longer one can retain the keening power of the Heavenly Lightning Saber."
Raxri nodded. They stretched their sword like a wing to the side, and it shuddered, vibrated. Its intensity matched that of a volcano.
They only held it for a moment, before the fulminating Sapi exploded. It scattered in an arc, uncontrolled, spreading across the bamboo grove. Shards of Sapi pricking and skewering the ground, the bamboo, the mahoganies, the flowers. The shards dissipated eventually, leaving behind only marks of scorching as the only remembrance of Raxri''s incompetence.
The Abbot exhaled, and then twirled their blade. He exhaled: his keening Sapi dissipated harmlessly about him. "And the best swordmasters can dissipate this keening power with a breath and a thought."
Raxri fell to their ass. They stared at their hands: soot covered it, as if they''d been burned. "How... How will I understand this power?"
"Through training," said the Abbot, smiling. "Now rise, Raxri Uttara. Training continues apace."
Once, while Raxri just about managed to generate three slashes of the Heavenly Lightning Saber Killer Technique, slicing through three bamboo groves in a single performance of the movement, they sat down beside the Abbot who drank more black tea. The tea was said to grow natively in Shen, but a specific black tea brewing style could be found in an island known as Meita, somewhere between northwestern North Ra-Om and the Refuge of the Gnostics, said to be floating about the wild seas of the Anju Tenem Sea, wherever that was.
Scratching their head, Raxri stared at the Abbot as they formulated their questions, attempting to temper the chaos of their thoughts into something somewhat understandable.
The Abbot knew what Raxri was like at this point, so they simply did nothing but wait for the words to formulate within Raxri''s mind. Then, they said: "Abbot, if I may ask a question?"
Smiling, the Abbot nodded. Raxri sat down beside him, laying their training sword flat in the grass before themself.
"Suppose the Adamantine Sword is an integral part of modern life here in the Utter Islands, as the world descends into ever war... would this not be against the precepts of the Infinite Law? Specifically, the precepts of the Nonviolence?"This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
The Abbot put down his tea. A chill breeze washed over them then. To Raxri, that felt like the Abbot meditating on the cosmic mind and summoning the transcendent, unsurpassable teachings of the Buddhas Wisdom.
Then, the Abbot said: "The Law is constantly being revealed to us," said the Abbot. "Even the Tutelary Buddha of this Kalpa has deemed it impossible for him to be able to reveal everything about the Law on his own... this is why he spoke of other Conquerors, other Arhats, other Bodhisattvas. The bleeding edge ethical technology of the Infinite Law is the very fact that it can be used across a number of circumstances, applicable in any context. This is its virtue. It is not a utilitarian system, and neither is it a deontological one. It is one of virtue ethics.
"Thus have I heard: there was a village that was constantly being bombarded with plagues. Now, you will know, now all plagues are caused by incensed deities. They are sometimes also caused by toxic fens, diseased plants, and poisonous plants that reside within an area. Though this village had performed all the required rituals to appease all the gods of the earths and the skies, it was not enough, and even their spiritual leaders and elders contracted life threatening plague.
"That was when the Buddha arrived, as they traveled across the world collecting the One Hundred and Eight Elixirs of Wandering. Seeing as the Buddha was a skilled doctor, medicine man, and cunning folk, the village''s chief supplicated and pleaded him to help everyone in their village, for they faced certain doom. The Buddha, in his infinite wisdom, of course offered to help. He stayed for a few more days and tried to cure everyone the normal way, but found that the number of people contracting the plague was vastly outnumbering the number of people he could heal at a time. Even worse, any elixir or medicine pill or curative he could give the sufferers, they would only return to suffering afterwards, for the people themselves built no innate resistance against the offenses of the plague. And so, one morning, he decided to face the problem at the source.
"''Bring me to the place of flowers here,'' the Buddha said. The Village Chief did so, bringing him to the place of utmost beauty in their lands: the land by the river, right before the toxic fens. And it was full true! The Buddha had scarely seen such a beautiful place before. Its beauty was the sublime of Buddha-Nature, beyond suffering and enlightenment. There, the Buddha three colorful herbs of scarlet, indigo, and ebony.
"The Buddha asked: ''Do you eat from these herbs?'' The Village Chief said no. That those herbs were one of the most toxic herbs they knew and so they avoided it completely for the safety of their village. The Buddha only nodded and said: ''This flowerbed poisons the very water you drink. The roots of the Trinity Herbs drain the good properties of the earth and water around it, creating toxic conditions for life. It is good that you have survived this long!''
_"_Afeared, the village chief kowtowed and prostrated before the Buddha. He cried and asked if there was anything they could do. The Buddha nodded and said: ''We will use these.'' Confused, the village chief asked: ''But, o great sage-doctor, you have just said that the very cause of our plagues are these same toxic herbs!'' The Buddha began picking Trinity Herbs and putting them in his satchel, chanting a protective spell all the while. After he was done, he said: ''The most potent of poisons can only be healed by converting those same poisons.'' And thus it was, that the Buddha returned and created medicinal elixirs using the very same poisonous Trinity Herbs to heal everyone in the village, and to make them resistant against future changes. The Village Chief was overjoyed, as they did not want to move the entire village due to the war and due to their responsibility to the spirits of that land, as their ancestors created a pact with those same spirits.
"Disciple, hear as well as I: to heal the worst of poisons, one requires the poison first. One must temper and heat and turn the poison into a medicine more powerful than the poison itself. In the same vine cometh the teaching of Antiviolence, as spoken by Ksewran Buddha and the Twice-Buddha Dattreya Wairini: the yoke of oppression must be removed and replaced with the Yoke of Self-Enlightenment. But no master will ever willingly give up their power, and so we must meet force with force. This is the Sutra of Violence."
"I see." Raxri was struck with an almost awesome feeling, coming to that realization. "So you cultivate the means of violence because that same very violence exists in this world?"
The Abbot nodded, though their mien was very serene. "Only compassionate violence can end the most grueling of violences. Even the Tutelary Jina Buddha of this Kalpa has spoken of Skillful Means to achieve Enlightenment. Dattreya Wairini the Twice-Buddha herself has said that a peaceful being is one that is fully capable of violence. Therefore, we train both our compassionate mind and our violent body to to help not just ourselves but others too in Liberation."
"But would the cycle simply not continue?"
"It would," said the Abbot, nodding. "Hence why the antidote is not called poison. In the same way this kind of violence is not called violence. There is an ultraviolence that can bring an end to the Furious Wheel. A violence beyond violence, one that requires restraint, peace, compassion, and actual martial ability. Many call it by many names, but you might know it mostly under the name of Justice."
And so Raxri meditated upon the precepts of Justice, and more importantly a Justice that seeks to liberate instead of bring reparations. A justice that creates compassionate circumstances for both the struck and the striker, so that the wheel will not be turned.
It took Raxri another month to fully learn the Heavenly Lightning Saber.
At the end of that month, when the sun was deep into its descent, the malachite sky painted indigo, Raxri once again performed the Gathering Thundercloud Stance. While they gathered their Sapi, inhaling and exhaling as they did, sinking deep into Concentration, stones and leaves swirled about them, responding to the keening power they could now command.
They performed the gathering arc, catching every streamer of Sapi.
Then, with an exhale, they cut.
A sword slash of pure Sapi sliced through the air and slashed deep into the hardwood tree that Raxri was targeting. The beam of sword essence was crooked, not perfectly straight, and wasn''t the molecular singular thinness as that of the Abbot''s, but it was the Heavenly Lightning Saber all the same.
Raxri roared. Their body was battered, muscles rippling, slenderness accentuated with curved lines. They fell on their back. "I did it!"
"The sword lines are crooked," said the Abbot, coming closer to them, eyes on the gash upon the hardwood tree. "But that is all right. With further use, your usage of the sword beam will only refine. Perfection now moves in your direction, instead of you moving in their direction." The Abbot smiled.
"More importantly...." The Abbot placed the edge of their sword to Raxri''s forehead, and then the tip of the sword to Raxri''s mouth, and then to their heart. "By mastering the Sapi in this way, and accumulating enough Sapi to actually be able to even attempt Heavenly Lightning Saber, your Sapi Furnace has grown and developed strong enough. Do you not feel anything strange, now, deep in your bones?"
"I... I do." And indeed they did. Even as they lay down upon the grass, Raxri could feel themselves thrumming with energy, their focus razor sharp. As if they were constantly benefitting from coffee. The energy at their liver, the site of their Sapi Furnace, was bursting at the seams. It fulminated, Flame-Lightning.
"Then you are now in the Accumulation Stage," said the Abbot. "Be proud, this a true breakthrough in your cultivation. Now, rising in Cultivation Stages will be smoother, though each will require even more Sapi to attain."
Raxri felt like they could fly. Instead, they bowed deeply, almost prostrating to the Abbot. "Thank you, Abbot Wairojashra!"
"Our three moons together have been highly productive," said the Abbot, smiling. "Though we only managed to go through a year and a half''s worth of training, this is more than enough for you to be able to defend yourself with decent ability. Come. Ampun Sagara awaits."
"Ampun Sagara?"
The Abbot nodded. They turned and walked.
Raxri sighed. "Not even a bit of rest, huh?" They forced themselves off of the grass, and then rushed over to the nearby boulder where they had left their robes in. They trained without a top, so the sweat glistened upon their solid body. They quickly put the robes on and tied it together. Then, they ran over to the Abbot. [1.30] The Dharma Finally Revealed
Thus have I heard. Disciples, when someone asks for the knowledge of the dharma from you, then you should tread carefully. Firstly, understand if they are ready for such knowledge. You must always teach according to the Learner''s aptitude. Never force them into your own aptitude. Remember that the Dharma is for every being across all the Three Times. From The Triple Baskets Sutra
The Abbot led Raxri back to the monastery, but not inside its walls. A bit of a walk away from the walls of the monastery, down a well-trodden dirt path, muddy from dew and humidity, led to a small glade, where the mountain''s slopes leveled. The trees here were tall, and the bamboos were thick and wide, large. They looked too large even for a human to heft them.
The glade had an interesting fragrance. Not a bad fragrance: in fact, the fragrance felt too artificial. Raxri could not pinpoint what it was.
In the middle of the glade was a stilt house, with multiple annexes connected by roofed walkways. It looked midway through a simple peasant''s stilt cottage and a palace. Pigs and chickens loitered about the fenced off underside of the cottage complex. To the side, an unwalled shed with a half roof shading multiple workbenches where giant bamboo, hardwoods, rosewoods, sandalwoods, and inks.
The tattooist Ampun Sagara walked out from behind that pile of work. They wore nothing but a multi-layered sarong and wooden sandals. Their bare chest revealed ligers tattooed, with sacred symbols lining their teeth and back and constituting their stripes.
When he saw the student-master pair, he removed the pipe in his mouth and puffed out a healthy, slightly azure smoke into the sky. "Ah, Abbot Wairojashra. Raxri Uttara." Smiling, he returned the pipe to his mouth and bowed low with the mouth reverence. "How may I help you?"
The Abbot nodded. "The time has come, tattooist."
"Ah, has it now?" Ampun Sagara smiled. "Well, I cannot deny this. Truthfully, even the Lightning-Enterer''s gait has changed." Ampun Sagara nodded, referring to Raxri. "The Sapi emanates from you now, when it once was nothing but a slight ripple, begging to be ignored."
"I am in Accumulation now, Ampun," replied Raxri.
"You learn quickly, but that is something you must do, after all."
Raxri nodded. "My excitement cannot be contained! But... answer me please: what is the time that now comes?"
"In truth," Ampun Sagara walked over to them and pat Raxri''s shoulder. "Many of the monks that cultivate within the monastery are granted special access to the talismanic tattoos, to strengthen their Sapi Furnaces even further. They only earn these tattoos after significant moments in their life. One such moment is the ascension into the next stage of Sapi Cultivation."
"I see." Raxri felt pride creep up their liver, where their Sapi Furnace would''ve been. "I see! Then, please, I wish to partake."
Ampun Sagara turned to the Abbot. "For now," he said. "Complete the Shield Yantra pair. Then, the Shagara''s Pillars, to their shoulders."
"Shagara''s Pillars?" asked Raxri.
Ampun Sagara nodded, fingers holding their chin. "I see I see. A thoughtful one, that. Shagara''s Pillars, so named after the King of Gods, is another protective yantra. But instead of protecting the marked subject from incoming harm, it instead restricts the flow of Sapi from the marked subject." The tattooist turned to the Abbot. "Am I correct in understanding your intent in this, Abbot?"
The Abbot nodded. "If we restrict Sapi from needlessly expiring, perhaps we can also prevent any more future scenarios of memory loss."
Raxri put their hands on their hips. "Smart." They nodded.
"It is. Well, if that is the mark of their ascension, I shall prepare the ritual stage."
The Abbot nodded. "I must needs prepare for my journey from the monastery. I shall leave you here. Do no harm and be of no nuisance to the tattooist."
Raxri bowed the mouth reverence to the Abbot. Ampun did the same. The Abbot left.
"Come," said the tattooist. "Come inside of my heart, for a moment." And Ampun Sagara opened the doors to his home.
Inside the cottage, a giant altar immediately greeted Raxri, burnished a humungous, nigh-human sized statue of a buddha. A tongue of flame was molded out of gold atop their crowned head. He had upon his face the half-lidded look of serenity endemic to all Buddha. Their body was clad in robes that fell to their ankles, and nothing more. This Buddha statue sat in the lotus position, with one hand raised pointing to the heavens, and another slightly touching the earth. Which, in this context, was the floor of Ampun Sagara''s cottage.
Surrounding the Buddhas, all about the wide altar, were multiple palm leaf paintings of various other deities, others Buddha of names unknown to Raxri, many of them Bodhisattvas, even more of them Arhats. Arrayed they were as if they were an assembly, listening to the Buddhas. Beside each Buddha were three sets of flowers: lotuses of all colors, though they were overwhelmingly azure, scarlet, and ivory white. Not just lotuses, there were also jasmines, the death flower, and hibiscuses, the life flower.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Before the statue of the giant Buddha was a lotus-shaped incense bowl. Three sticks stood tall from it, smoke wafting slowly and lowly.
In front of the table, slightly lowered, was a cushioned seat embellished to look like a lotus throne. Then, before the lotus seat, was a sapphire blue cotton carpet, brocaded with an interesting pattern: it looked like multiple ripples upon a pond intersecting and interpenetrating, creating other new ponds.
On both sides of the altar were the two windows, fully opened. The flurrious cold winds danced through.
Raxri realized then what the fragrance was. A unique interblending and intermixing of the smell of flowers, incenses, and the natural smell of bamboos and damp grass. It was an aroma that invited serenity and serendipity.
"Welcome," said Ampun Sagara, their tone reverent. "As someone riding the lightning, it would be wise of you to do your prostrations."
"Ah, right. Forgive me, I almost forgot." Raxri had been taught this by the Abbot. If in front of a giant altar, not just a shrine, of a buddha complete with palm leaf paintings and an assembly of other enlightenment beings, the proper course of action was to perform three prostrations. Crown reverence, then mouth reverence, then heart reverence, then fall onto one''s knees and bow. While bowing, raise one''s hands. This was the proper reverence to the wisdom of the Thus-Come-And Gone. Raxri did it properly.
"Good. You''ve been taught well."
"Tattooist Ampun. Who are the buddhas placed there? Forgive me for my ignorance."
Ampun Sagara shook his head. "Worry not about it. It is from ignorance that enlightenment must arise, as taught by the Tutelary Buddha of this Kalpa," Ampun gestured to the statue. "Victorious Highest Sage. A Jina Buddha."
"Oh, I see. How humbling." Raxri could do nothing but stare.
Ampun Sagara nodded. They walked over to a work table, where various pokers and inks of differing colors lay, neatly organized. "It truly is," he said, rifling through his pokers. Each poker was intricately designed: the blade resembled a flame, the handles resembled snaking dragons, or rising phoenixes. "He is a Conqueror of this kalpa, after all."
"A Conqueror?"
"Jina Buddhas are buddhas that have awakened to the truth of Emptiness in a world where there were no teachings to guide them," said Ampun Sagara. "In every kalpa, there are usually only three Jina. One for its Earlier Days, one for its Middle Days, and one for its Latter Days. The Jina''s duty is to re-establish the teachings of the Dharma once it has dissipated from humanity due to the slow violence of time. The teachings of the Dharma, and the Dharma themselves, are Eternal. Jina are always on the Cusp of Enlightenment before their final reincarnation, bringing with them the teaching into a land lawless. Jina are separate from Bodhisattva in the sense that their holy duty is to show Extinction so that others may attain it. Bodhisattva then reveal themselves after a Jina fulfills their duty."
"Dharma?" asked Raxri.
"That''s the Razrunan word for the Sacred Teachings," said Ampun Sagara, who was preparing their little knives and prickers. "It is translated into our trade tongue usually as the Law. But now that you know what it is, it should be fine to call it what it is. Dharma is a single word that means law, teachings, order, cosmos, or virtue."
"What heady business," said Raxri, thinking all the while. "So the Infinite Law is just the Dharma?"
Ampun Sagara nodded. "I''m sure the Abbot would''ve taught you this already. But it''d be best if you already knew: there is the Jinadharma, teachings of the Jina, which work to conquer one''s self. Anantadharma, the Infinite Law, teachings of the Buddhas of the Three Times, which work to emancipate all sentient beings. Finally, the last one is known as the Krantidharma. The greatest of all the dharmas, taught by the Secret Buddhas. That one, I cannot speak of too much with you. You will find it out yourself. You have no choice. You must."
Ampun Sagara saw that Raxri was knotting their forehead thinking too much about what he had just said. Do not worry overmuch," said Ampun Sagara. A small lotus-shaped candle bearer burned near him. He heated the poker''s blades over it. "That cosmology is only really revealed to those on the Thunderbolt Path. Such knowledge is, in truth, not required for eventual Liberation. Unless, of course, one takes on the Bodhisattva''s Vows."
This one Raxri did not understand. Before they could ask, however, Ampun Sagara walked over to the altar, bowed thrice, and then sat on the lotus chair before it. They were facing Raxri. "Now, come. And take off your tunic."
"Ah. R-Right." Raxri removed their monochrome robes, which they diligently washed every two days. They also removed their tunic, but kept on the gray sarong that allowed them to move freely. They had developed considerable muscle ever since training, but all the muscle was smooth and straight. Their athletic body only became more refined, but they were muscular in the soft way that a runner would be, and not bulky like a perfecter of mountain arts. Raxri became self conscious all of a sudden, their hands covering their breasts. When they looked at Ampun Sagara, they found that he was busy rearranging the colored inks across their table, which was to their right.
"Come," said Ampun Sagara, beckoning to Raxri. The cloud-haired one nodded and walked over, sitting in front of Ampun Sagara. "I will be beginning from the back of your shoulders, and then going down to your elbows. Shagara''s Pillars run down both sides, so it will take some time."
"What do I do while you paint me?" asked Raxri.
Ampun Sagara said: "Meditate and contemplate. Concentrate on the pain, as I work my way through you. Let nothing distract you from it. Through it, clear your mind, through pain attain right meditation. Through it, realize emptiness." The tattooist stared at Raxri Uttara directly into their eyes.
Raxri gulped and nodded. Though at this point they were more than used to pain, Ampun Sagara''s intensity disquieted them anyway.
"Good," said Ampun Sagara. He lifted his poker and applied oil to the sections of Raxri''s right shoulder where their blade was going to poke first. Then, he dipped the poker into black ink. As he did, he chanted lowly, under their breath, the appropriate mantras for the transferrence of power.
Raxri inhaled sharply. Ampun Sagara''s hands were surprisingly soft and cold as it ran up Raxri''s spine, then the blade of their shoulder, then upper ridge of their shoulder. More surprisingly was the softness of Raxri''s skin. Somewhat supple, not solid stone like many mountain-lifters. Instead, theirs was the illusory tenderness of a sheathed blade.
Ampun Sagara said: "Fold your hands over your heart, and lean forward slightly." Raxri bit their lip and did so. Them in that prayerful position only enhanced the feeling of the ritual, and Raxri couldn''t help but sink deep into the ritual''s esotery. Suddenly, as they sat at the middle of the circle of rippling circles, they felt like the subject of a mandala. They were the ruling deity placed at the center, from which power emanates. They were made to be the center of that reality. They were made to be a god, or a Buddha.
Is this what emptiness was? Realizing you are all those things? But also realizing that all those things were you all along, and thus shattering the subject-object dichotomy?
Raxri waited for the poker to slice into their skin. [1.31] Little Deaths Dancing Upon The Skin
To inscribe stories upon one''s skin, some might argue, is an act of attachment or craving. This is wrong view. It is no less different than brandishing a blade. That is to say, the tattoos are but skillful means to remember one''s path down the royal road of enlightenment. The Treatise on the Death of God and Ego
The poker''s blade struck deep.
Ampun Sagara begun their work.
Pain flowered from the strike.
A little knife cut itself into Raxri''s skin and then broke free just before it would puncture muscle. It was this but again and again, over and over the same region of skin or somewhere close to it. Raxri''s skin could never dwell on one pain for too long. They had to keep thinking of new pains, constantly. This is what living is like.
Raxri breathed to get their muscles to relax, but some times the blade would hit a tender spot and they would inhale sharply again. At times, the ink upon Ampun Sagara''s poker blade would finish, all transferred onto Raxri. They would dip their blade upon the ink again and continue, pulling Raxri back into the realm of pain.
As they tapped, they chanted all the while, mantras of esoteric power. They sealed the vows and protections of Shagara''s Pillars upon Raxri''s skin.
Over and over, pain rose and fell, rose and fell. Through it all, Raxri maintained their heart reverence, and through it all Ampun Sagara continued to chant the mantra. It was a meditation for both of them. In a sense, they were both cultivating their Sapi as this happened. A dual cultivation of sorts.
As it went on, however, and as Raxri sank deep into their concentrative fires, they found the pain of the blade to slowly fade away. It would strike, and the emotion of pain would run through them, but then as with any mindfulness practice, they would quickly let the pain dance away. Like how happiness would dance away, like how anger would dance away, like how sorrow would dance away. The pain traveled from Raxri''s shoulder down to their right bicep as Ampun continued, finishing Shagara''s Pillars on one side.
Then, almost as suddenly as it began, it ended. The pain danced for a moment, as if to sing a farewell to the art it had now bled onto Raxri''s very skin. Then it faded. Ampun lifted Raxri''s arm to show them the tattoo. It was beautiful: continuous pillars of writing in a script now ancient to them both, it ran down from their shoulder like a magical formula, connected by long straight lines. The end of each line--which, to Raxri, all accumulated together at the bottom of their bicep--would stop at a specific distance. When each line was done, it formed the shape of the upper half of a roaring tiger''s face.
"The tiger," said Ampun Sagara, moving to dip their poker blade into red ink this time. "Is one of the manifestations of Shagara, the King of the Gods. It embodies his ferocity. With this in your grasp, you will overcome the mountain kings and the ocean lords."
"What is the red ink for?" asked Raxri. They realized their breath was shaky from all the adrenaline and pain.
"For the lower half." Then Ampun Sagara set about to completing the lower half of the tiger''s maw, creating a beautiful and furious display of power. That went on for a few moments before it was finished. And by the end of it, it was not only Ampun Sagara that was proud, but Raxri as well. The ink blended well with the dusky brown skin of Raxri Uttara.
"It looks good," said Raxri.
Ampun Sagara nodded, proud. "I''m glad you think so. Now." They set to applying the oil to Raxri''s other shoulder now. "Let me know if the pain becomes too great for you to weather. We will take a break then."
"It is all right," said Raxri. They looked out the window and saw the sun slowly sinking again under the horizon. "The pain helps me refine my focus."
"This also will consolidate your Sapi Furnace. No matter what god or king strikes at your memories, your Sapi will never deteriorate to the basal levels that it did when you awoke in the Vault of Souls."
"Is tattooing a Cultivation practice as well, Ampun Sagara?" asked Raxri.
Ampun Sagara nodded. They were taking their time applying the oils so that they could answer Raxri''s question. "It is. There are entire traditions that perform tattooing as cultivation. Though it is slower than the thunderbolt speed of magick and martial arts, it is cultivation all the same. I trained in the far northeastern sandseas of Wadzra, where my immortal master has passed down this specific art to those that brave the stormy seas of his far off island sea cave. Until now I still have not completely perfected the Betik Yantra, the Magic Talisman Hand Tap Tattoo art. And so I travel to cultivate it, applying it to those worthy. Through this, I refine my Sapi Furnace and move towards enlightenment too."
"That martial art you used..."
"Ah, yes. That was a development of that same immortal master, though he did not like using it," answered Ampun Sagara. "It is the mixing of blade arts, ink magicks, and the tattooing art, allowing us to conjure ink constructs as weaponry. It is a unique blend that only two of us students have managed to learn, while we were there."
"I see."
"Now, meditate once more."
Raxri nodded. Ampun Sagara began poking once again, and they began chanting.
The pain forced Raxri to focus once again. Their contemplative absorption arrived earlier now than before. The monotone pain of the poker became a background sound, white noise, quickly now. Raxri in heart reverence descended into no-thought meditation. This was difficult, even for the monks that specialized in no-thought meditation. But Raxri was immediately snapped out of it as quickly as they descended into it as the thought of Akazha entered their mind. Oh, she would be so proud to know I have my own yantra tattoos now.
They wondered how Akazha was. It had been three moons straight where they hadn''t met. Raxri became afeared that, perhaps somehow, Akazha had forgotten who they were. Or was wishing that they would never come back. Raxri bit their lip to stop tears from coming. The pain from the poker pushed them out of this destructive train of thought, and before long Raxri was only focusing on the pain once again.
This one seemed to finish much quicker than before, scarlet maw and all. Blood dripped down Raxri''s left arm, drenching even their first shield yantra. Raxri stared at it, fascinated. It ran down slowly, darker than usual blood. They looked at the wound that had caused it, seeing the almost stitching-like pattern of the tattoo. But the tattoo itself was the same gorgeous set of pillars inscribed out of ancient, circular script. The way it was tattooed made it look less like pillar but more like a rain of words, spiralling down.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
"Looks like there were sensitive bloodlines here," said Ampun Sagara as they wiped it with fluffed cotton swab. "Thankfully I have a surplus of cotton."
"Oh?"
Ampun Sagara nodded and then gestured with their lips to the falling kapok fibres that floated down like white rain. In the distance were the telltale green and white colors of kapok trees. "Kapok."
"Beautiful. I did not know it was kapok season."
"It is, right now, just a few moons before the end of the Hot Dry season," said Ampun Sagara. "Soon the Wet Hot Winds shall arrive, and overland travel will be exceedingly difficult, as the monsoon will continue and continue." They finished wiping Raxri''s hand. "There. Beautiful. How are you holding up?"
"The pain has subsided and been absorped into my meditation," Raxri said. "So it seems I am more than capable of sustaining the pain of a tattoo."
"Good. That''s good." They held a different, new poker over the candleflame, heating it up. "Grant me your other arm. I will have to inscribe a mirror to the Shield Yantra on your left arm."
"Ah, yes. Right." Raxri positioned themselves so that they laid their hand across Ampun Sagara''s thigh. "Do I have to keep the heart reverence while I have it here?"
Ampun Sagara nodded. "Yes, but you can only do a half heart reverence so that you don''t need to move your other arm."
Raxri nodded in affirmative. Ampun Sagara set to poking on Raxri''s forearm. The pain was the same, though the blade definitely felt like it was ripping into ripe muscles on Raxri''s swordarm.
This one took much quicker compared to the other two tattoos, even though this one wound around Raxri''s forearm. It was almost exactly the same as the other tattoo, even down to the spiraling script and the conical arrangement.
Ampun Sagara finished their mantra chanting and placed the poker back in a wooden housing. "There. Finished."
"Really?"
"I''ll have to finish the mantras and then the dedications, so that the protective spells become efficacious." Ampun Sagara lathed their hands in the aromatic oils that they used and rubbed it about the new tattoos. As they did, they chanted, closing their eyes and uttering ululations that sent shivers up and down Raxri''s spine. When they finished, they scattered grains of rice about the floor, and then they passed a lotus flower around Raxri three times. Then they uttered another mantra, which they repeated three times and uttered at a rapid pace.
At the end of it, Raxri realized all the hairs on their body had lifted. Goosebumps rose across their entire skin. Electricity ran through them, turning into a slow fire as the sensation neared their Liver. After the mantra ended, the last syllable resonating across the silent glade, Raxri felt as if they had just gained new clothing. They felt as if they had just been tempered in fire, and come out completely new, like a block of iron struck into the shape of a sword.
"Now, we are done."
Raxri stood and stretched. They felt their body still aching, shaking just a bit. They turned around and performed the mouth reverence to Ampun Sagara. "Thank you, great tattooist."
Ampun was cleaning his blades and pokers. "I can only hope it will help you."
"I am sure it will, Ampun."
Ampun Sagara smiled and nodded. Outside, the sun was halfway through sinking into the horizon. Raxri wore their robes agan and as Ampun put away his tools after cleaning them thoroughly with fire and blessed water. "The Abbot will be returning for you," he said. "Come, eat a few snacks with me while we wait."
They sat on the front porch. Raxri''s legs swung off of the edge. Ampun Sagara sat like a vagrant, hand propped up on a raised knee. They smoked profusely from a pipe. Raxri had asked for a pipe as well and Ampun Sagara lent them his old porcelain pipe. They smoked the pipe as well, this one was pure tobacco instead of gloamblooms. Raxri smoked it all the same.
As they smoked, they picked up pieces of kalamay and ate it. Then they chewed on betel nut, spitting the red globules out onto the grass.
Before them, the glade stretched out. It was larger than the bamboo grove that Raxri and the Abbot trained in. Winds here flowed more freely. The grass was so green they almost seemed blue, waving in the winds. The trees that flanked the glade all looked like they were shrines created by past peoples, to pay reverence to every god in every direction. Since the canopy of the forest broke here, they could see the sky clearly, even as the sun''s rays bled the Firmament orange. Despite the Sun''s Blasted Rays, Ampun Sagara''s section of the glade was kept cool by a giant tree whose branches and leaves created a huge shadow.
"Why are you here, Ampun Sagara?" asked Raxri. "If... it''s all right to ask."
Ampun Sagara smiled. He shook his head, saying: "No, it''s all right. It was... a very interesting and complicated journey, me getting here." He dragged on his pipe. "I dare not bother you with all the details, that would take another saga to be sung in truth!"
Out of nowhere, Ampun Sagara mentioning singing brought the bidaree Vibujja into Raxri''s thoughts. They tucked it away into their mind to ask about it later.
"I was born to a noble family in the far northeastern communities of the Wo Kingdom, somewhere in Wadzra. Due to expectations and abuse from my parents, I fled! I fled and seeked out power. I realized that I needed power, physical strength to exert myself into the world. Did you know what I wanted to be, Raxri Uttara?"
"What?" Raxri took a drag of their pipe, tilting their head to the side.
"I wanted to be a painter." Ampun Sagara laughed. "Ha! What a stupid dream for someone as me. But I had the privilege of dreaming, for I was born nobility. When I went to my Master in that Sea Cave, I was summarily humbled, if you could believe it. Both in terms of culture and in martial arts, I was utterly dominated. I asked for the Master to teach me their ways, and I had to ask them three times. Every day I had to sail back to his sea cave from a shore village named Takjii to beg for him to teach me. On the fourth time, he began my training. That was a grueling experience. I was young, then, but training in the sea cave took almost two decades of my life! At the end of it, I was skilled in the ways of the Betik Yantra, and the martial art that manipulated it, the Inkblade Dance. However, as soon as I returned to Takjii, it was conquered and subsumed into the Wo Empire, led by Dread Generalissimo Sisepo Karasama. They were looking for me."
Ampun Sagara sighed. "Word had gotten out that there was a talisman tattooist in the northeastern region, and they were looking for me. This was during their concerted effort to expand their territories. Takjii, fearing for their own life, sold me out, despite having no quarrel with them. The Wo Empire, Raxri Uttara... they command great magicks borne out of stones. They had great flying skyships powered by Skystones. These magicks struck fear into the hearts of those that dared defy them. Their military innovations surpassed the others in the Utter Islands, save perhaps for the Shennin Society.
"But I did not wish to be chained and wielded like a weapon. I leapt out of the skyship, and serendipity had it that I fell into a whirlpool." Ampun Sagara paused for a moment, suddenly deep in thought. Raxri stared at him, thinking Why isn''t this guy dead yet? They chose to keep their thoughts to themselves at that moment. "I can never adequately explain what exactly happened to me at that moment, in truth. I fell and fell through and endless void black. The darkness consumed me, digested me, and eventually I could not distinguish between consciousness and non-consciousness. I think, at that moment, I felt the universe, the very fabric of reality, that thing that arose independently.... And then I somehow awoke. I did not recognize when I had fallen asleep, dream and reality blurred into emptiness. When I awoke, I was in the southern shores of this here island, and it just so happened that there was a monk gathering performing ritual services to the god of Pemi''s southern shore."
"I had been given a vision." The voice shook both Raxri Uttara and Ampun Sagara. When they looked, they saw the Abbot arriving, flanked by Yiwaritala and Doctor Myu Fan. Raxri and Ampun rose to their feet and bowed. "A vision by Merciful Hearer Buddha. Someone arrived, that will cultivate merit and Sapi through rendering his services as a tattooist. During that moment, I was seeking out a tattooist skilled enough to be able to work for the Monastery, and would take refuge in the Monastery. At that moment, I knew it was to be him. He took refuge in the Tristones, and I gave him the Law Name of Ampun Sagara. This meant, ''Adopted of the King of Gods'' in Karita, the Elder Tongue."
"Ah!" Raxri said in realization. "So that is why Sagara is so close to Shagara?"
The Abbot nodded. They arrived at the feet of the cottage. The two also bowed to Yiwaritala and Myu Fan. The doctor was already walking up the stairs to check on Raxri''s wounds.
Raxri, however, asked, "But, thunderbolt master. If that be true, then why did you not give me a Law Name?"
"That is because," the Abbot said, smiling, "Raxri Uttara was already your Dharmic Name." [1.32] The Blade of Extermination
Ahom! May all things be guided by the light of the Law. Face every problem with the fervor of the many Bodhisattvas. A thousand thousand Buddha surround you at all times, remember this. Your Buddha-Nature is already within you, you must simply needs recover it. But twist it not: Buddha-Mind is not an inherent nature, nor is it a place. It is rather a state of being, for all things are emptiness. Even enlightenment. From the Vajra Hibiscus Sutra
"How did the master know?" was the first thing that Raxri blurt out after a bout of silence.
The master Wairojashra tapped their chin with their finger, thinking. "I remembered just recently why. You told me, back then, 10 years ago. Raxri Uttara was not your birth name. You never told me your birth name, so I do not know where you are from, and I do not know who your parents are."
A pang of sorrow rang through the thread of Raxri''s being.
"But worry not overmuch," said the Abbot. "Clinging to the past will only bring regret, remorse, and inaction. To learn from the past, you must use it as a platform to push yourself into the future."
Raxri nodded, though they were bombarded with thoughts about their family. Did they even have parents, still? Did they have siblings? Perhaps they lived with their grandmother and helped her make meals every day, or rice cakes for a village? If they had siblings, did they already have families of their own? Where did they come from? Not a lot of people from Pema seems to know them, and those that do remember them sing of Raxri coming from far off lands.
They felt lost, ripped apart from their greater context. Without all the strings that kept the usual person up, what were they?
The doctor squeezed Raxri''s bicep. "Ouch!" they moved away, wincing. The pain of the tattoo shone bright.
"Good. You did not lose feeling in the biceps."
Ampun Sagara laughed. "Raxri Uttara has never felt more okay, I am sure," he said. "They are fully recovered now, despite the scars."
Raxri Uttara nodded. "And some of the scars are not even from dog demons!"
"Scars never truly go away, is why," said Doctor Myu Fan. She took one more look at Raxri and said, "It seems to be they are hale and healthy. Good. Please take care not to suffer any more bullet wounds--or any wounds, truly."
Raxri managed a close-lipped smile. "I cannot promise for sure, Doctor Myu Fan."
"Try your best."
"I will."
The Abbot turned to the doctor, and the doctor nodded. "They are safe for travel and combat."
The Abbot nodded. "Very well." Despite this, their face looked slightly grim. As if they just determined something at that moment that they never wanted to determine.
Yiwaritala spoke, then: "It would be best if we keep going now. The day nears its end." He turned to Raxri and said, "I hope your training has gone well?"
Raxri nodded and smiled. "Really well."
"I would like to see it for myself, firsthand, if you would allow."
"Of course. I would be honored!"
The Doctor puffed from Raxri''s pipe, which they had somehow stolen while they were examining Raxri''s scars. "Remember, remember, not to scar each other too badly."
Yiwaritala laughed. "Do not worry, Doctor Myu Fan. It will not be in the immediate future. We have more pressing concerns to attend to."
Raxri tilted their head and turned to the Abbot. "What are we supposed to do, Abbot?"
"An offering," replied Abbot Wairojashra. "To the gods of the mountain and the bidaree."
Raxri was brought back to their guest room, where most of their things were kept in, immaculately clean. Apparently, they had been maintaining Raxri''s inventory, no matter how scant. "It was a way of practicing the Law," noted Pilinitala, smiling. "And cultivating merit. Let us not tarry any further. We undertake a grave mission."
"Right." Nervousness lingered now. Raxri had to lean on their meditation to shear away their thoughts, to focus on the act of walking as they trekked to the middle house. This middle house was not the meditation room, but rather, the gathering house. The Gathering House had a third level, where only those that the Abbot had called could enter into.
It was that level they ascended to, through hardwood ladders that led to corners of each level. Here too, the windows stretched from the floor to the roof, and led to railed balconies where people could rest and sit. The entire room was lit by a singular lotus light, which hung from the roof.
They needed it, as the moon rose and night enveloped the land.
Pilinitala and Raxri both performed the triple reverences three times to the giant statue of the Scarlet God Buddha that dominated the front of the room, surrounded by an assembly of saints, saviors, and conquerors, along with deities and other celestial beings.
The third level had floors of interestingly lacquered bamboo, and then multiple circular textiles whereupon intricate lotuses were embroidered.
Sitting there was a small group of warrior monks. They were a diverse lot: some were sun-haired, some had azure eyes, others deathly pale skin, others were humanoid boars, others were humanoid eagles, others had heads of cats. Looking back, Raxri noticed all these kinds of body types when they first fought in the first assault of the dog demons. It was just that they were too focused on the dog demons'' forces.
The warrior monks sat upon the lotus mats.
The doctor Myu Fan sat up front, beside Yiwaritala and Ampun Sagara. Pilinitala pulled Raxri over to the front. There they sat, crossing their feet into the lotus position, and watched as the Abbot finished the preliminary mantras and spread holy oil across the shrine to the Buddhas.
It wasn''t long after when Raxri sat did the Abbot slowly open his eyes. He scanned the entire room to see who was there, and then nodded. "Let us begin."
Raxri stayed quiet. Their eyebrows were furrowed, as they why they have gathered at such a time, when people would be falling now asleep.
"As you all know, normally at this season, around the middle-end of monsoon season, we would be traveling to the summit of Mount Jura to make our offerings and pefrorm our rituals to the gods of the mountain, thanking them for letting us stay in this monastery." Raxri looked around to see everyone more or less nodding. The Abbot continued, "Unfortunately, we cannot do such a thing as of the present moment. We have gathered and confirmed that the cave near the summit of Mount Jura has been infiltrated and turned into an erstwhile base and fortress by a demon horde."
Everyone was quiet, waiting for more knowledge.
The Abbot continued again: "We all know the world to be in its final throes. The end of this kalpa, the Latter Day of the Law. The mystics call it the Age of Furor. Everyone scrambles for purchase and safety, or some capitalize upon it for power, at the end of the world. This no doubt stretches even--nay, especially, to demonkind and other such destructive beings. You all know, for the longest time, we have suffered no attacks from such demons in Mount Jura. Mount Jura has been blessed and protected by us and by the saints and saviors as a holy mountain, never to be touched, never to be destroyed. However, as we enter the Days After The End, demonkind increasingly ignores the holy sanctions of such beings and flagrantly violates them. As every being becomes increasingly aggressive, this does not become something that surprises us."Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The Abbot turned and bowed to the Scarlet Buddha. "I have been given a vision by the Scarlet God Buddha. If we are to keep Mount Jura a point of holiness, we must take the blade and bring it to the demons, and extinguish them there."
There was a voice that rang from the crowd. "If this truly be the end of times, why should we resist? We should let the natural cycle of things flourish!"
"As practitioners of the Anantadharma," said the Abbot, still looking at the Scarlet God Buddha''s giant statue. Raxri noticed that this particular statue wielded a double-edged straight sword, which had multiple sigils of an unknown elder language inscribed along the flat of its blade. "We must recognize that it is inherent in It that we must break all cycles. As we work to break the cycle of suffering and roaming, we recognize that the Law teaches that a hundred more destructive cycles happen within the Gulong Hingsa. If we are to break the Wheel, we must weaken it first. In so doing, Followers of the Law must endeavor to protest negative and oppressive statuses. The End of this Kalpa need not be destructive. Indeed! We can make it more bearable, we can save those that we can save. This is the Vow of the Bodhisattvas."
No other voice emanated from the crowd then.
"This is the Law of the Scarlet God Buddha," said Abbot Wairojashra. "Only transgressive force can stop cyclical force. And so we must move, we must not be unmoving. We must not be passive. Passivity turns the wheel. Activity breaks it. Let our violence be the deft blade that cuts hammers rather than smashing hammer that destroys indiscriminately. We seek meditation and peace and non-self to weather the storms of the world, and to bring all beings into enlightenment.
"The vision showed me too," said the Abbot, turning now to the assembly. "Dear monks. With the destruction of holy Mount Jura, the destruction of Giant Stone Monastery will quickly follow. And after that, the demons shall spread, destroying Pemi''s island ecology. They will destroy the Nunuk League, and finally, destroy the Godtree. Our duty is to make sure this never happens. And hence, I have gathered you all. Yiwaritala? Please."
Yiwaritala nodded and rose. "It is imperative for you all to sleep immediately, for we will arise before dawn to march up to the summit and strike as the demons return to the cave. As you all know, demonkind is most active during the night, and they are weakest during the times the Moon is at its greatest power: the Womb Moon. Is anyone against this plan?"
A boar-headed warrior monk yelled: "Nay, this is a tactically sound plan. Are we to be provided with weapons?"
Yiwaritala nodded. "The armory has been unlocked for all of you to wield. You are a force 100 strong. Just around the exact limit of our equipment stores. Let us use them all so that we will not suffer any unwanted casualties. Though partaking in this ritual violence is no doubt an act that will generate great merit, we do not want any soul being tossed into the wheel to be reborn. Understood?"
Everyone nodded. Raxri looked at Pilinitala, and her face was firm.
Raxri looked then at the Abbot, who caught their eye. They nodded as well, as if to tell them that they had been trained for this moment exactly.
"Good. Doctor Myu Fan."
Doctor Myu Fan rose and walked over to the front. She looked down at her palm leaf manuscript (it was many pages thick now) and said, "I''ve stayed up a few days making sure that there is enough healing gourds for a hundred soldiers," said the doctor. "I''ve also worked with the chef Pilinitala to create an Iron Carabao Stew that will boost your Sapi Furnaces so that your wounds do not linger and your skin is toughened to iron. However, as with everything, these dishes will not protect you from direct attacks and stronger attacks. You must fight with your full force nevertheless. Additionally, each person will only have access to a single healing gourd. This healing gourd will staunch bleeding, relieve pain and quicken wound healing, but it will not magically heal wounds instantly. Medicines that do that are rare and prohibitively expensive. And, more importantly, require magick, which is almost impossible to replicate in bulk. It''s possible, but I will not be able to pull of that miracle for you monks."
Mortal medicine? Suddenly, Raxri''s thoughts were brought to the Healing Pill they''ve received from Akazha.
"Is this understood?" asked Doctor Myu Fan, adjusting her spectacles. Everyone answered with a firm "Yes."
With that out of the way, the doctor sat again.
"We will assemble by the front gate before the sun''s orange rays strike. Please, rest well for tonight. You will need it tomorrow." Yiwaritala then sat down, gesturing to the Abbot.
The Abbot walked up to the front, and in the candlelight their eyes seemed to burn with passion and determination. They were silent for a beat, before they nodded and said: "Until all beings are free.
"Let thy will be done."
Raxri made their way back into their guestroom. This time, it was Yiwaritala that accompanied them. When they arrived in the guestroom, Yiwaritala walked in with them.
"How fare you?" asked Yiwaritala, hands behind his back. He stood as if a bodyguard.
"Well enough," said Raxri, sighing. They removed their robes and sat on their mattress. They lit an incense stick. The moon climbed night''s ladder. "Nervous. Slightly."
"Nervous? For what reason?"
"The demons. The assault... I know I must have confidence in the teachings of the master, but the demons are not humans. They are not the kind to hesitate when killing."
"You''ve already said it yourself," said Yiwaritala. "You must have confidence in the teachings of the master. Steep yourself into the concentration. It is in fire that a blade is made. In the same way, it is in battle a warrior is made."
Raxri could do nothing but nod. "I am fine, now. Why did you follow me here?"
Yiwaritala nodded. "The Abbot had asked me to give this to you." He revealed what he was hiding behind his back. It was a sword in a lacquered blackwood scabbard. It was inscribed with spiralling sigils of that same elder tongue. Its hilt was was interesting: it undulated, creating a firm grip with a stopper for the base of the hand. The stopper itself was in the shape of a great dragon, eyes bulging, teeth flat like a human''s. Its nose curved up into a long horn, so long that it no doubt could be used for violent means. Unlike the scabbard, the handle (which was still black) was made of carabao horn, carved into that means.
Raxri''s mouth fell open in awe. Not because they knew what such a gesture meant, but it was a beautiful blade. They moved forward on their knees and received the blade in both hands. Then, sitting on their feet, legs folded, they unsheathed the blade. After a firm tug, the blade came free of the sealing of the scabbard.
The blade was beautiful, with a wavy, water tempered pattern that made it look like ocean waves rolled within its silver metal. Upon its base, vertically engraved, were more of those circular elder script. It was still a non-wavy kalis: it had a slight wave by the base, but then the rest of the blade was a straight sword, coming to a pointed end, making it useful yet for both cutting and thrusting. The bladeguard was that same triangular style, but it had writing inscribed around its filigrees. "This is beautiful."
"Its name is engraved on its scabbard. Puksa. Extermination. The writing is Elder Karitan, if you did not know. Its blade is crafted with moonmetal--that mercurial silver that falls to the earth every Womb Moon."
"Wow." The blade took Raxri''s breath away. "The Thunderbolt Master wants me to have this?"
Yiwaritala nodded. "He wanted you to wield it, see if you are worthy of it."
"Is it important?"
"Let''s just say the Abbot does not have the habit of giving away weapons. Fruits, blessings, prayer-strips, yes. But not weapons. That is a great blessing. Be sure to give your reverences to him in the Before-Dawn."
"Of course. Of course!"
"That is all. Do not unsheathe it until you will draw blood with it," said Yiwaritala. "That is what the Abbot has told me." Their face was still stern. Raxri could feel an emanation of confusion from the monk.
"Do you still not like me, Yiwaritala?"
Yiwaritala blinked. "Why would you say that?" He did not look at Raxri.
"Because I study under Akazha, you''ve never been fully trusting of me."
"That be true," said the monk, avowed to never tell a false word. "Yet, the Abbot has taken a liking to you." He thought for a bit more, closing his eyes, as if in meditation. Raxri moved back to their mattress, placing the blade on the floor beside them. Yiwaritala shook his head and moved over to the blade, and placed it on top of the bedside table. "Never place named weapons on the floor. It is disrespectful." He sighed. "The Abbot knows you more than I do, and so I defer to his teachings. I am dubious of your deservedness in learning arts such as the Adamantine Sword without induction into the Monastic Order. However, the Abbot''s wisdom far surpasses mine, and so I can only really defer to his mind. I pray that you do not belie the Abbot''s trust."
Raxri shook their head. "I won''t. I swear. I''ll prove to you Yiwaritala. I''ll prove it to you that you can trust me with your teachings."
Yiwaritala managed a smile. "But becalm yourself. I have no enmity toward you, just askance. The Abbot has said that you have been able to learn an entire harvest''s worth of the Adamantine Sword in just three moons. That is something to be commended, to be sure. And I can only trust the Abbot."
Raxri kept silent.
"That is all. Forgive me for intruding for longer than I was supposed to. Please, seize all the repose you can. We must leave early in the morning. The Armory will be open. Clad yourself in not just faith and reason, but in lamellar and hardwood." [1.33] They Who Danced Against The Heavens
Our world long united must divide. Long divided must unite. Thus has it ever been. The cycle will never end, to believe it will is the folly of the limited and ignorant human mind. How can we free ourselves, then? Through Liberation, through Emancipation, through Extinction. Only by shattering the wheel can we be free of the cycle, for the cycle itself is made from our very own delusions. I''m pretty sure this is what they call the Romance of the Lotus Throne. From The Sermons of the Street Cat Beggar
The next day, Raxri woke much too early. They had fallen quickly into a fitful, restless dream. Raxri''s dreams induced anxiety, but they could not remember them when they awoke.
The candle light had been extinguished. Smoke wafted still from the incenses. The waters of the hot springs outside babbled its incoherent message. The moon drowned now, in the waters of the horizon. The sun''s gleaming light swords pierced not the Firmament just yet.
Raxri stared a bit at the sword upon their bedside table.
No turning back now. Let thy will be done. Raxi stood, grasped the sword, put on their robes, and walked out.
Outside, the climate seemed too cold and yet too humid. The clouds were gray, despite the rising sun. The coldness clung to Raxri.
The front gates were open. A small throng of warriors had accumulated there, walking around, eating fresh steamed rice cakes made from gluttinous rice along with bowls of the beef stew that Pilinitala and Myu Fan had made. Some of them walked around with a teacup of coffee. Some of them were walking back from one of the houses that were not part of the monastery''s walls. This one stood on its own, with multiple annexes, built upon bamboo stilts. Multiple men and women were going in and out of that annex.
Raxri walked over to there. Yiwaritala was handing out weapons from within. He himself had a breastplate over his robes now, though that was the end of his defensive armaments. He handed out spears, swords, glaives, bows, and crossbows a like to all those that would take their weapons. When Yiwaritala spotted Raxri, he beckoned for them to come inside.
Inside, another monk, whom Yiwaritala introduced as Sayanitala, was keeping track of all the weapons being pulled out by other monks. Sayanitala had spectacles on, and was writing down digits onto dried palm leaf.
The Armory itself was surprisingly large, with two levels and with armors tied to walls, hanging from girders, hanging from knobs on pillars. Many feetwear and defensive legwear--sarongs, mostly, and sarouels--were folded neatly onto handwoven palm mats. Glaives were held up on racks, swords on sword holders lining the wall, bows unstrung on the floor, arrows within wood cylinder containers.
Yiwaritala wasn''t the only one handing out equipment, of course, but it sure felt like it to Raxri. "Here''s yours," said Yiwaritala. "Pilinitala will be waiting for you by the front gate. She has your healing gourd." Yiwaritala handed Raxri three items: a breastplate, arm guards, and shin guards, all made of blackened carabao horn. The breastplate was unique in that it also included a collar and flanged shoulderguards: the kind one would only see upon royalty. The arm guards were also jet black, and fit around Raxri''s forearms perfectly. The shin guards had thick red string used for tying it securely.
Yiwaritala then said: "Oh, don''t forget this." Yiwaritala was moving very rapidly, like a manager. They went behind Raxri and slipped on a battle jacket made of intricately woven abaca fibers. This one was dyed a navy blue. The battle jacket was a tunic that fell down to Raxri''s thighs, though this one was not embroidered with golds that royalty would usually wear. The sleeves of the battle jacket were short, reaching only just above Raxri''s bicep. Finally, Yiwaritala also handed them a circular rattan shield.
"Thank you," said Raxri. "I''ll see you later." They bent over to put on abaca fiber sandals, which they tied in a criss-cross pattern around their feet and up their shin. Then they put the shin guards over it.
Yiwaritala nodded. "The march begins soon."
Raxri made their way over to the front gate, Puksa in one hand and dark brown rattan shield on the other. They saw Pilinitala standing with doctor Myu Fan, with Ampun Sagara eating beef stew. Pilinitala was clad in the same breastplate, armguards, and shinguard set that almost every other warrior was wearing, but Myu Fan stood wearing nothing but her cheongsam and her golden sash whereupon was arrayed weapons. She blew some smoke from her pipe. Ampun Sagara on the other hand, had on nothing but a frayed skirt that reached his knees, and prayer beads that wound about his hands. This allowed him to show off his tattoos, burning across his skin.
When Raxri arrived, Myu Fan removed her pipe. "Finally," said Myu Fan. "Here, your gourd." She handed it over to Raxri, who bound it to their hip by tying it to the strings of the breastplate.
Raxri laughed. "Doctor, what mean you, ''finally''? I woke up before the bulk of the force!"
"Did you sleep well last night, Raxri?" asked Pilinitala. She had with her a glaive with multiple rings strung through a hole in the blade. "I conked out from all the cooking I did last night." She mopped her face. Dark circles still ringed her eyes. "But it was worth it. I slept like a baby."
Doctor Myu Fan scoffed, handing another approaching warrior a healing gourd. "Yes, for all of four moon movements. That is hardly enough sleep for you."
"It''s enough sleep to fight," said Pilinitala. "You said so yourself!"
"Yes, provided you sleep right after," she said, smiling. "But worry not. Just drink some of the gourd and sip a bit of coffee and it will all be set aright. Your fatigue will be annihilated."
Pilinitala did just that. She sipped some of the gourd, and Raxri could immediately feel her energies brightening, rushing. She then turned around and poured some coffee from the kettle on a wooden table and put it into a teacup, then drank it as well.
"You brought a coffee table out here?" asked Raxri, slightly incredulous.
Myu Fan nodded. The dark circles under her eyes seemed to be a conscious choice rather than a consequence. "Having to take care all of you...? It will be required."
Ampun Sagara smiled. "It would do you well to ready yourself, Raxri. And worry not: those tattoos now engraved upon you are ignited by the fires of your Sapi." He walked to the side and began stretching.
"I have full faith in your tattoos, Ampun Sagara," replied Raxri. "I am glad you fight alongside us. What weapon do you yet wield?"
Ampun Sagara lifted both of his hands. "I will employ the Heaven Thundering Hammer Style," he said. Yet another style that Raxri had never heard before. "A martial art popular in the region where I grew up in."
"I look forward to witnessing your strength," replied Raxri. "Is it another Empty Hand Style?"
Ampun Sagara nodded. He turned to Pilinitala and said: "Pilinitala. Toss me that rock."
Pilinitala looked around until she saw the large pebble that Ampun Sagara referred to. She walked over to it, picked it up, and threw. Ampun Sagara jabbed--a javelin of wind erupted from his fist, shattering the rock in midair. The rock''s fragments went all over the place.
Doctor Myu Fan scowled. "Hey! Watch it! You''ll put rock into the beef stew!"
Ampun Sagara suppressed laughter. "Oops. Forgive me."
Myu Fan rolled her eyes and dragged on her pipe. Pilinitala and Ampun Sagara laughed at each other, and then the tattooist went back to his stretching.
Smiling, Raxri turned around and saw all the mercenaries. "Do you think we will all make it out alive?"Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
"There''s a chance," said Myu Fan. "The chance is multiplied by all the blessings that you have from gods, Buddha, Bodhisattvas, and more... but three percent multiplied by 10 is still just thirty percent. We must be ready for any potential casualties."
Raxri inhaled. "I will endeavor not to let anyone fall back into the Wheel."
"They will be broken upon the Wheel all the same," replied Myu Fan. She handed Raxri her pipe, and Raxri took it, leaning back against the tree and smoking its tobacco.
Pilinitala gave Raxri a similar clay bowl and rice cake. The clay bowl was filled with an absolutely delicious beef stew, with the soup made out of beef shanks and bone marrow. Cabbages and pechay flaoted about it, alongside thick beef pieces that went great with the only lightly sweetened rice cake.
Raxri watched the warriors file in, eating their breakfast. There were some people that were dressed in an attire Raxri could not entirely recognize. Men clad in interesting red hardwoods, others clad only in multiple layers of cotton armors (that must''ve been quite warm!) Others wielded arquebuses, others wielded giant round greatshields made of a gold alloy. There were some clad in what Raxri could only describe as living wood. Some wore helmets and breastplates of jade. There was one that wore nothing but a cloak that wrapped about them and trailed behind them as if they were shadow. There was one that wore a suit of silver, reaching only their neck. The suit was just about skin tight, but had certain protrusions that made it into armor. It seemed to undulate with life. There was another who was clad completely in blackened armor, to the point that even their helmet was a complete ebon caricature of a dancing lion-dog. Their armor resembled that of ebony wood: gnarled twists and textured plates. Raxri wondered how they could see through it. They were a diverse lot: humans that had the face and fur of cats, humans that had the beaks of great eagles, monkey-humans, lizard-humans... All of them clad in an extremely diverse panoply.
"Oh," Myu Fan said as she came back to pluck the pipe out of Raxri''s mouth. "The mercenaries have arrived."
"Mercenaries?"
Myu Fan nodded. "Giant Stone Monastery is relatively young compared to the other monasteries in the Utter Islands. Hell, even compared to the other monasteries in just Pemi. I sent out a missive while you and the Abbot were training, after the Abbot had let me know of his plans. Mercenaries are in a surplus now, you know."
"Right," said Raxri, remembering what Akazha had told them. What Akazha had offered them to do. "These are trained warriors?"
"Some of them," said Myu Fan. "Most of them are just grizzled and know their way around a fight. They used to be called something else before the End of Days, you know."
"What?"
"Adventurers."
When the sun barely peeked out of horizon''s waters, the Abbot arrived alongside Yiwaritala. The Abbot wore no armor. They wore only their robes, and nothing else.
He walked to the front of the crowd, and then saw Raxri, Pilinitala, Ampun Sagara and Myu Fan. Smiling, he went over to them. "God-Flensing Darkness cut through all four of you."
They returned the greeting. An interesting one to Raxri, again. They performed the mouth reverences.
"I pray you have all gotten adequate rest?" asked the Abbot. They all nodded, more or less. "Good. We will be beginning our march. It will not be long before we arrive in the cave. Total extermination is to be expected, but the dog demons are not to be underestimated. Though we be many, and though our cultivation be true, we are still mortal yet."
Raxri wondered for a second why the Abbot couldn''t just annihilate them all. "Thunderbolt master, if it be all right with you. May I ask: you have the capability of all these powers... why not just annihilate them yourself?"
The Abbot shook his head. "I am old, and my Sapi Furnace is not the same as it used to be. More importantly, my primary cultivation is meditation, dear Raxri Uttara. It is not battle. Not all Buddha are masters of combat."
"I''ve always thought all Cultivation would lead to some form of transcension," said Myu Fan, blowing from her pipe.
The Abbot smiled. "It does. Unfortunately, I am still of the Desire Realm, within the second stratum myself. If the dog demon has cultivated their own strengths, they will be difficult for me to face."
"Demons can cultivate?"
The Abbot nodded. "Almost anything can cultivate, given enough time and absorption. Now, the march begins."
Yiwaritala walked to the front, waving his hands to get everyone in line. Despite half of the force being mercenaries, they arranged themselves neatly enough. "We will begin the march!" Yiwaritala projected his voice so that he can be heard over the din. "The path is steep, but it is paved and stone. You must be careful not to slip down the stairs. Once we have arrived in the cave, it will be certain violence. Understood?"
A resounding, "O!" Yes.
Yiwaritala nodded to them, and then to the Abbot. The Abbot gestured for them to begin, and so they did, turning and walking, wielding his pewter staff as if a walking staff.
They arrived at the cave when the sun was only halfway arisen.
The path had been easy. It was a somewhat steep way, but the curves and crooks of the mountain path made it easy to walk up them. One could tell that this was a path often taken. The entire troop marched not as if they were going into combat, but rather, into a ritual.
At their arrival, there was a keening stillness. The tension thrummed across landscape. The hard stone beneath their feet seemed almost liquid. Yiwaritala stood at the front, flanked by multiple heavily armored warriors.
The cave itself was large and bore deep into the side of the mountain. A tall wood-and-bamboo gate had been constructed at its mouth. A series of levers and pulleys provided a clue as to its mechanisms.
Their warband stretched a bit further down. Raxri conjectured there were around fifty, maybe nearing a hundred of them. Warrior monks mingled with medics and mercenaries.
From where they were on the mountain, the sun could be barely seen. The sky above them stretched gray.
Yiwaritala brought out a conch shell. They blew into it. Soft, at first, and then the resounding warhorn rang stronger and stronger until the sound seemed to herald the very mountain itself. Birds scattered and flew off at the very strength of the call.
Yiwaritala projected their voice: "Dog demons of Mount Jura, upon Silver Wind Cave! Reveal yourselves, for we have come to exterminate you!"
A silence. The winds howled now, as if laughing at the warrior monks. Raxri shivered. What if there weren''t any dog demons here? What if they had been flensed from this mountain? It has been three moons ever since the attack, after all.
They looked at the Abbot, wondering. The Abbot was wholly focused on the cave.
Then the gates groaned.
It slowly swung open as the hemp rope was pulled and pulled. As the gate swung open, a silver-furred dog demon, larger than all the other dog demons they had ever fought before, emerged. They shook, as if a dog trying to shed itself of water. Its snout was long, almost sharp like a thunderbird''s. Its eyes glinted bright gold. The demon was wrapped with fancy brocaded robes underneath pure steel lamellars and baggy breeches. Its gauntlets seemed to be made from the teeth of dragons. It walked wielding a giant dragonbone scimitar, sharpened to a point, magickally enhanced to be stronger and razor sharp.
Anxiety shot through Raxri. Perhaps not exactly fear, and morbidly enough a pang of excitement stirred them. The intimidation of the dog demon chief made Raxri''s knees just a bit liquid, harder to keep up. They gripped the handle of Puksa. They could feel their breath quicken. They couldn''t distinguish fear from excitement, right now. Flight from pure killing intent. This... is killing intent! So this is killing intent weaponized!
A few of the mercenaries took one look at the dog demon chief and turned tail. Their fear penetrated them and forced them to run. They ripped themselves out of the warband''s formation, retreating down the mountain steps. Other mercenaries laughed at those that fled. Raxri looked over their shoulder and watched.
"Good thing ye haven''t paid those cowards yet!" one of the mercenaries said, cackling, as a few other mercenaries figured they would lose their life before the dog demon.
Ampun Sagara, who stood taller than most of them, scowled. "Ignore them, Raxri."
Raxri nodded, turned to face the dog demon. The chief towered over them, as tall as three full grown men.
When it spoke, the mountain trembled. "Exterminate? Us?" Its voice was husky, deep, even alluring. But its basso voice punched at every one of their hearts. The dog demon''s Sapi Furnace blazed without it even trying.
"You have come to harass the lives of those in Mount Jura and of those in Nunuk Vale," said Yiwaritala, standing resolute despite it all. "We have come to stop you."
"Thou canst not talk me out of it," said the dog demon. "This is my dharma. I must do my part in destroying this wretched world... so that all may be free."
"Your perverted Dharma must be expunged from this world."
"Oh? And did not the Buddhas teach tolerance?"
"Higher in the order of the Buddhas''s teachings is that of the Middle Way. To abstain from eternalism and from annihilationism. Your goals are annihilationist... and so it is not the Law but a perversion."
The dog demon laughed. "If! If thou art come to exterminate me... why speaketh to me with philosophy?"
"I am giving you a chance," said Yiwaritala, unsheathing a straight sword from behind their back. "Convert to the teachings of the Infinite Law before I slay thee, and you might have a rebirth better than now."
The dog demon laughed even harder. Even their basso voice turned into a cackling, mocking witch laugh. "Thy wretched Dharma and thy wretched Communes and thy wretched Buddha... the arrogance of it all blindeth thee to the truth of the world." The demon swung its dragonbone scimitar, quicker than thought. Yiwaritala blocked it with their sword, just as quick.
"Witness me!" The dog demon raised its sword up high, swinging it against the heavens. "I! Am Silver Wind Witchdog!" As he spoke, his golden eyes burned as if aflame. A nimbus of fire cloaked them, an aureole of blasphemous flame colored stark orange. A ring of light burned from behind their head, an aureole within an aureole. "And thou be wrong, bastardly monk! I seeketh not to destroy this Vale, though I happily will do so! Now, my primary goal is guided by heaven itself! I am one of the 108 GLAIVES OF HEAVEN... come to slay..."
Silver Wind Witchdog pointed their dragonbone scimitar at Raxri Uttara. "They who danced against the heavens!" [1.34] The Will Of Heaven
Let all things cry out. When the end of this kalpa shall arrive, and all the gods and all the devils will scream out of their heavens and their hells, they will be looking for a savior yet. It is the pure error of the warrior to seek out the Farthest Shore. The greatest hidden truth is seen as heresy by the orthodoxy. But all paradoxes and all heresy is integral to finding true, nonconceptual enlightenment. They sing that one must let go of Wandering to find Liberation. Samsara from Nirvana. This is false. To even think of a difference between them is already falling into the trap of conceptual thinking. True Liberation that benefits all beings is beyond Suffering and Emancipation. Beyond the split between phenomenal and absolute reality. All things are emptiness. Remember this. Emptiness is form, form is emptiness. From Treatise on Enlightenment by Nakawirawan
Doctor Myu Fan, Pilinitala, and Yiwaritala all turned in absolute shock to Raxri Uttara. Even Ampun Sagara turned with furrowed eyebrows to Raxri. Their bodies wracked with uncertainty, with questioning, with wondering, with pure consternation. If Raxri was someone among the crowd, they would be doing the same!
It was only the Abbot who stood resolute. They smirked, even.
"My dogs!" Silver Wind Witchdog cried out. "To me!"
Like a flood of fur and steel, the dog demon infantry roared out of the cave mouth.
In answer, Yiwaritala raised his pewter staff and slammed it into the ground. The visage of a water buffalo erupted from him again, and then infused Yiwaritala. The monk yelled: "Swords and Spears of the Buddhas!" An invisible fire erupted from him, skewering through every single warrior that hadn''t fled. The flames burned and steeled their resolve, infusing their Sapi with greater power. "Set your hearts ablaze! Until all beings are free!"
The monastery warband roared, heartened. They unsheathed their blades and charged, meeting the dog demons head on.
The Abbot leapt up, soaring through the air and watching from a nearby cliff that overlooked the entire battle. Though his face was serene, thunderclouds subtly keened overhead, where he stood.
Strengthened by Yiwaritala''s Sapi Proliferation, Pilinitala charged, descending upon dog demons with certain aplomb. Balancing on her glaive, striking in quick jabs turned into wide circular motions. She was almost acrobatic, like a pesky heaven warrior. Leaping on dog demons'' heads, leaping away when she was surrounded.
Raxri knew not to be surrounded by such a force. They will not stop to strike at you.
Ampun Sagara was, however, in the midst of it all, alongside other heavily armored warriors. With his Heaven Thundering Hammer style, he would grab dog demons and then suplex them to the ground. He would slam them into his knee. He would dropkick one and that warrior would barrel down the other warriors behind them. After Ampun Sagara had built enough momentum, took a readying step forward, raised his fist to the sky, and proclaimed: "GOTRABAYU''S GAVEL!"
When his hand inevitably struck the earth. The earth itself shattered and cracked; Ampun Sagara''s quake-force strike sent all those before him to the air, broken bones and broken maws. An entire chunk of the dog demon''s force, destroyed.
Some of the dog demons that had not been slain by that attack were certainly killed when a bullet went straight through their skill. Raxri turned to see Doctor Myu Fan, moving forward with an intricately designed arquebus. She fired three more shots, slaying a few other dog demons that came up too close to her. When she ran out of bullets, she would only reload by uttering a magic spell, performing the Replenish magic hand sign, and then twirling her gun quickly in mid air. When she caught it again, bullets had somehow returned to the stock, and she as shooting others again and again. One time, as she killed a dog demon, she turned and used it as a bludgeon to strike and kill one behind her, and then she chanted the mantra and twirled her gun furiously fast, parrying a strike from another dog demon''s blade. She caught her gun, kicked the dog demon away, and then shot it dead.
Raxri wondered if what she practiced was a martial art or pure magickal tradition.
Raxri themself had entered the fray, making sure to stay close to Pilinitala. Though now, they fought with the quickness and strength of a guardian dog. Three cuts decapitated a dog demon. They moved through the dog demon like a frenzy of iron, like an unfurling steel blossom. Puksa sliced through the dog demons as if they were nothing but butter. When a dog demon managed to get an open shot at Raxri, they quickly parried it away with their rattan shield, moving closer, and stabbing the dog demon immediately with their blade. The dog demons themselves fell quickly, Raxri never felt the need to even use Heavenly Lightning Deflection or Heavenly Lightning Saber.
However, when they faced a particularly well-armored dog demon, clad head to toe in iron and leather lamellar, they had to change tactics. The Ironclad Dog Demon struck with a long glaive as well, bearing a range advantage. Raxri baited an attack, parried it away with their rattan shield and then quickly closed the gap. While they were at a disadvantage, they performed Adamant Lightning Strikes to cut five times in the span it took for a heart to beat, cutting away the strings that held the armor in place. Though this was not perfect: only the Ironclad Dog Demon''s right, right shoulderpads, and front breastplate fell off it. But that was more than enough: Raxri quickly transitioned into the fifth Adamant Lightning Strikes Technique. Four slashes to the bare parts, soliciting a pained howl, and then the fifth slash gorily decapitating the Ironclad, separating helmeted head from the rest of their sliced up corpus.
As they fought, Raxri noticed that some of the warriors unspooled into those threads of Magick, while others dissipated into fireflies. No doubt these warriors were a mix of the demonic constructs of the dog demon sorcerer, and the demons born from Hri Kresshanna infernal womb.
Through it all, the sounds of death reverberated through the mountain. Though the majority of the deaths were of the dog demons, there were some all too human sounds that signalled one of their ranks had fallen. Raxri grit their teeth, trying to find the source of the screaming, of the pain...to no avail. Sorrow seized their heart and wrenched it. But they could not allow it to make an opening for their enemies, and so they parried even their sorrow with their meditation, and kept it to the side. I will feel you later.
Yiwaritala launched forward to duel directly with the dog demon chief himself. "Ha! And you protect the heaven dancer? That unsightly wizard whom heaven itself repudiates?
Raxri''s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but they were too far from the demon chief to do anything about it. Yet. The flood of dog demons seemed endless, even if they seemed easy to fell. Raxri''s Sapi Furnace blazed within their stomach, within their liver, within their heart.
"Whatever your reason, you imperil innocents yet! You quicken this world''s death," replied Yiwaritala, and they exchanged blows, pewter staff against Dragonbone Scimitar. Despite being thrice his size, Yiwaritala effortlessly matched the Silver Wind Witchdog''s speed and strength, weaving under scimitar blows, leaping and corkscrewing over slashes, parrying away jabs and thrusts. As they moved, their pewter staff jangled a song of serenity, summoning the tranquility of the Merciful Hearer Buddha to the battlefield.
"The world will die all the same!" yelled Silver Wind Witchdog. "There is no reason not to quicken it! Besides, this is the Will of Heaven, not mine. I was merely conscripted, no different from the mercenaries you have brought with you."
"Compare not the practitioner with the monster," replied Yiwaritala, and they managed a clean thwack against the Witchdog''s sword hand, forcing him to drop the Dragonbone Scimitar. "Ampun!"
Ampun Sagara was there suddenly, faster than thought. They leapt up to grasp the Dragonbone Scimitar''s handle and swung it against the Witchdog. Surprised by the turn of events, the Witchdog only barely parried the blow, and the scimitar gashed into his right side. He screamed in pain and laughed.
Then, Ampun Sagara continued twisting, yelling: "Ox Thews Rolls The Dragon!" As he did, his Sapi Furnace manifested as a blazing aureole of orange light behind his head, and he flung the Dragonbone Scimitar far, far, far off the mountain, straight over the lands, over to the seas.
The Silver Wind Witchdog laughed brightly. "Ha! What a show!" It began trading blows with Ampun Sagara and Yiwaritala, his giant claws enough to be five greatswords at once. "Let us revel even more!" Now he fought Ampun Sagara and Yiwaritala through multiple rounds.
Doctor Myu Fan was suddenly beside Raxri. She grabbed Raxri''s shoulder and pushed them down to duck, allowing Raxri to weave under a horizontal sword slice from a dog demon. Then she uttered a mantra as she pulled the trigger of her arquebus, sending a lance of fire lasering through a line of dog demons, slaying them outright. "Raxri. I will cut a path. You and Pilinitala must find the dog demon sorcerer within. The brunt of the troops now are but his constructs from his rift."
Raxri nodded. "Right. Pilinitala!"
Pilinitala nodded as well. They both meditated upon their Light Body Technique, and then burst through the battlefield, each stride taking up ten normal running steps. They had no need to worry about warriors blocking their path: Myu Fan''s fire lasers cut through them all the same.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
When they neared Silver Wind Witchdog, the chief demon turned to claw at Raxri, but Raxri parried it away mid-stride. Pilinitala was there, suddenly, lancing down on the Witchdog''s paw and ripping it. Ampun Sagara seized Silver Wind Witchdog''s off-balance foot, and he suplexed the demon chief to the other side.
Yiwaritala yelled: "Go! We will cover you!"
Raxri nodded in thanks. The only reason they were not being struck was because of them and the throngs of warriors, both monks and mercenaries, that fought in their name.
Past the gates, the vaunted cave stretched far up, with a few holes allowing sunlight to seep in, illuminating it. Despite this, a few lotus lights floated here and there. Upon hardwood and bamboo platforms stood crude temporary stilt houses and beddings. The stalagmite became places for leaning weapons on and hanging washed clothes.
Of course, none of that mattered at the present. In the middle of the clearing was a natural rocky outcropping. It was as if a god had carved it to become a throne, for it looked like the crude fascimile of a throne room.
The "throne" itself was empty.
Kneeling before it, facing both Pilinitala and Raxri, was the same dog demon sorcerer. It shouted and cried, its vocal cords were torn and ripped as it continued its chanting. Its emaciated frame could only barely house its Sapi Furnace. Its brocaded robes, stolen from a court sorcerer, were heavier than its bones.
Raxri felt a pang of pity.
The rift was torn open, but it was small. Dog demons struggled to be birthed from it. A gaggle of heads and claws ripped and tore at each other trying to squeeze out of whatever nether they were constructed within.
A few of them were already there. Weaponless, they ran over to the crude scimitars and longknives lying on the walls or stalagmites, and assaulted Raxri and Pilinitala.
To the both of them who had cultivated their Sapi Furnaces, these were nothing but fodder. Pilinitala and Raxri summarily dispatched the small force of dogs in a mandala of blood and steel. When there was nothing but lingering strands of Sapi left, Raxri turned to the dog demon. "You can still stop this."
The dog demon sorcerer turned to Raxri, eyes bulging, and it shook its head. Its arms--which it had been keeping up all this time as it chanted--fell to their sides, and they stopped chanting. The rift whereupon the dog demons were being birthed closed suddenly, as if reality zipping itself into place. Those dog demons that were halfway birthed were bisected in half.
Raxri looked up at the sorcerer, sword at the ready. They were preparing themselves to perform Heavenly Lightning Saber, should the need come.
The sorcerer raised a keris--the ritual dagger version of the kalis--and stabbed itself in the neck. As blood erupted from it, it smiled. It could not speak, Raxri realized. At least, not the language that Pilintala and Raxri spoke.
It could only speak in violence.
The blood that erupted from the sorcerer was infused with the last gasping strands of their own Sapi--what is effectively the sorcerer''s very own life force. The blood spiralled out and immediately began coagulating into a mass, which calcified into a hulking abomination of a dog, arms and hands so large that it could not wield any armor. It was twice Raxri and Pilinitala''s height, its slobbering jaws dripped with venom.
"A monster true," said Pilinitala, readying their weapon. "Raxri! It charges!"
The dog howled and lunged toward Raxri. Still concentrating on their light body technique, Raxri leapt over the dog. It sailed under them, slamming into the wall behind them. As Raxri arced overhead, they threw their rattan shield against the dog hulk, and then twisted their fingers into a Thunderbolt Mantra.
Raxri''s Sapi Furnace fulminated.
"Heavenly Lightning Saber!" They fired off four sword beams of burning royal violet light. Slash-slash-slash-slash, it engraved the dog hulk''s back. It howled again in pain.
Pilinitala surged forward then, running up the dog hulk''s back, and then leaping and stabbing straight down the dog hulk''s head. It roared again and flailed about wildly, sending Pilinitala flying toward a nearby stone spire jutting out of the wall like a trap.
Raxri''s eyes widened. "Pilinitala!" At that moment their feet touched the tip of a stalagmite. Raxri immediately focused all their Nihawa to burst straight into that foot. They immediately shot from the stalagmite, faster than they could think, adrenaline rushing through them.
They flung themself in between Pilinitala and the stone spike.
Pilinitala slammed against Raxri and Raxri slammed against the stone spire. Raxri cried out in pain, and the two of them fell to the ground. Despite the shooting pain on their back, Raxri felt that the spike had not pierced them. Their Shield Yantra burned an ember glow. Their granite talisman shuddered.
"Raxri? Raxri!" Pilinitala turned Raxri over and then sighed. "Oh, thank the divinities. You are unhurt."
"No, I am hurt," said Raxri, laughing. They rose to their feet. "Just not punctured. My defensive amulets work now in full force." This world is exceedingly dangerous. No doubt all these defensive talismans and magicks are indispensible.
The hulking dog demon, that abomination summoned by the sorcerer, lunged forward again after it had finally found purchase in the craggy floor of the cave. Raxri leaped forward, immediately, putting theirselves in between Pilinitala and the abomination. Its giant maw, with teeth as long as longknives, bore down upon Raxri.
Raxri performed Heavenly Lightning Deflection. With great effort, and with perfect timing, they managed to deflect the abomination down, slamming them into the floor. Unfortunately, Raxri''s hand was cut anyway by the razor sharp of the dog demon''s fangs. Blood dripped from the lacerations, but Raxri felt no pain. More importantly, none of their fingers had been ripped apart from their hand.
Pilinitala took this moment to leap into the air, twirl, and then strike down, glaive piercing deep into the hulking dog demon''s neck. It writhed, squirmed, and then flailed. This time, Pilinitala pushed herself off of the abomination, twirling in the air before she fell to the ground. In Raxri''s meditation, they could see that she was an expert at controlling the flow of her Nihawa, and thus an expert in harnessing her Sapi. More importantly, through this all, she was exceptionally calm. Every fear and hesitancy was quickly carried away by the winds of her meditation.
Raxri had leapt back as well as the abomination flailed. It still managed to rise to its feet, like a weredog or dire canine. It snapped at the air, as cursed black blood spurted from its open wound. It put both hands into the earth, and then lunged again. It did this much slower than before, Raxri realized.
Using their Light Body Technique, both Raxri and Pilinitala leapt out of the way. Raxri simply dove to the side, came up on both feet, and then quickly harnessed their Sapi once again to send three more Heavenly Lightning Saber slashes to the abomination. The abomination howled as it bit into its hind legs.
The abomination turned around. For the briefest second, Raxri noticed the intelligence of the sorcerer flash back into its eyes. It dipped one of its claws into its spurting black blood, uttered a silent mantra in a demon language neither of them knew, and then clawed at the air. A rift to fulminating darkness ripped open, and black arrows shot out from it, arcing and twisting towards both Raxri and Pilinitala.
Pilinitala was leagues more deft than Raxri. With an exhalation, she dodged each of the blackblood javelins by leaping upon stalagmites, corkscrewing in midair, leaping up to overhanging stalactites and leaping off from them at the last minute. The last blackblood javelin she managed to vault over, but a part of it ripped at her back, tearing at her tunic, but not completely destroying it. She dropped low behind a stalagmite and winced. She pondered about drinking the healing gourd for a moment, then though against it. "Merely a graze," she muttered to herself.
Raxri, on the other hand, was both slower and dumber than Pilinitala. Exhaling, they leapt over the first blackblood javelin, dashed over to their rattan shield, twisting over another blackblood javelin as they grabbed it. Then, they rushed toward the dog demon, screaming in defiance all the while, as blackblood javelins chk-chk-chk! impaled the rattan shield. Despite being made of blackblood, they were stopped by the rattan all the same A few of the javelins cut into Raxri''s shield hand and forearm, soliciting a few more winces. They made sure that their fingers were all still there, and they were.
When Raxri was before the dog demon it lunged, and Raxri performed Heavenly Lightning Deflection again, this time deflecting three rapid claw strikes. Raxri then cut during the moment when the dog demon overextended, performing Adamant Lightning Strikes. Five sword strokes in the span of a single heartbeat. They traded blows like this for a few more rounds, with Raxri deftly weaving under and deflecting claw strikes, inserting Adamant Lightning Strikes when they had opportunities. The dog demon also managed to puncture the rattan shield so that Raxri was forced to discard it for their own safety, alongside scoring a few claw-strikes upon Raxri''s person, though thanks to Raxri''s training most of these claw-strikes amounted to nothing more than grazes and light flesh scars.
Then, there! An opening. The dog demon stepped back and dipped its hand into its blackblood again. It uttered another infernal magick spell. Then it swung as if wielding a cleaver, and an arc of blackblood cut through. Raxri parried it with Puksa, and it managed to block the majority of the black slash, though lacerations materialized from their forearm.
More importantly, Pilinitala was there, running. "Raxri!"
The dog demon seemed to slow down from that maneuver.
Instinct overtook them. Raxri rushed forward to stab at the dog demon''s chest, and then they performed Adamant Lightning Strikes twice, for both legs. This forced the abomination to their knees.
As it fell to its knees, Pilinitala leapt up, and Raxri used the flat of Puksa''s blade for her to leap from. She shot up, twisting in mid air, landing upon the cave''s ceiling. She inhaled...
--Raxri summoned all their will to perform Devastating Red Hand against the abomination''s maw, sending them flying vertically up--
...she exhaled, glaive pointed straight down, she ripped through the abomination''s skull, impaling her glaive to the ground with such force that the metal of the weapon shattered.
The abomination never fell to the ground. It fragmented into those black fireflies.
Breathing heavily, Raxri helped Pilinitala up. Her knees were bruised, but she was more or less fine.
"You are covered in cuts!" said Pilinitala. Raxri shook their head and assured her that they were just fine.
The black fireflies wandered around the area. Some of the other demons that had watched the spectacle simply retreated, either further back into the cave or by some other arcane trick. After a few moments, the black fireflies gathered around Pilinitala and Raxri, before dissipating completely. The dissipations turned into colored winds that funneled and swirled into both of their personages.
Raxri blinked. "What was that...?"
"Sapi," said Pilinitala, inhaling and uttering a small chant, as if to offer the act of violence to the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas.
"Sapi?"
"The Abbot has spoken about how, when one kills another being, if the being that killed them was a Cultivator of some sort, they will gain that being''s Sapi. It''s a representation of the greater interconnectedness of Emptiness. A visualization of the greater Shagara''s Net, the interpenetration of all things, the removal of the bifurcation between subject and object."
"Blast it all," said Raxri. "All the people that study in the monastery sound so much smarter than I do."
Pilinitala laughed. She removed some gunk from her hair. "You will understand this, Raxri. You fight so well, and with so much skill and panache."
Raxri smiled and shrugged. "I am nowhere near as great as you."
From outside, the howl of the Silver Wind Witchdog.
"We should help the others," said Raxri. Pilinitala nodded and ran out with them. [1.35] Set Your Heart Ablaze!
The most common of sentient beings is Humanity, of all shapes and sizes, from the short to the tall, the pale-skinned to the night-skinned to the blue to even the red-skinned. In the beginning of this Kalpa, humanity was not too different from a physical god, and emanated light. But due to their wickedness, without an Enlightened to teach them, they were wrapped up by the chains of Deliberate Evil Deeds, and thus were split into two different sexes, multiple castes, and had to work the earth to stave off their hunger, and could not fly, and more. From The Unsurpassable Yoga Sutra
Raxri''s newly accumulated Sapi settled at the bottom of their liver, their Sapi Furnace. Rejuvenation burned through them. Their well of power burgeoned yet, a blazing flower. Their Nihawa moved quicker, circulating throughout the entirety of their body to bring Sapi to all of their muscles, their veins.
Raxri truly was now at the level of Accumulation.
With rattan shield now gone, Raxri depended on nothing but their live hand. Time to use the Whorl Guard. They kept a mindful note to use it next time in conjunction with Heavenly Lightning Deflection.
When they erupted out of the mouth of the cave, the dog demons were already being thinned out thanks to their efforts. Unfortunately Raxri noticed that their own ranks also thinned, though they could not truly find mortal bodies among the piles of corpses.
They saw Silver Wind Witch Dog, moving across the battlefield like a whirlwind of death. In one hand, Witch Dog swung and cut with its Dragonbone Scimitar (somehow it had called it back! Or, perhaps, it was some other blade quickly made?). In the other hand, Silver Wind Witch Dog wielded a spinning wind star, the color of moonlight, which cut through swathes of infantry, both on their side and on the Monastery''s. The mercenaries and the monks dove out of the way.
Those that were unfortunately caught were immediately sheathed in a blur of cloth, before disappearing entirely.
Upon the clifftop was the Abbot, laying down a mercenary and a monk that would have suffered certain death at the hands of the spinning wind star. After he laid her down, Doctor Myu Fan walked up to them and dragged them to safety. This continued for some time: as Silver Wind Witch Dog cut through the ranks, the mortals were immediately retrieved by the Abbot before they would suffer grievous wounds.
I want to do that, Raxri thought. And it was true. That exact thing, that ability to save others in a flicker of an eye was exactly what he wanted to train towards. Even if Enlightenment was ultimately out of reach for them, they wanted to be able to protect people and keep them out of harm''s way, especially in such a violent, furious world such as the Utter Islands.
Yiwaritala somersaulted trough the air and then slammed into the ground in front of Silver Wind Witch Dog, stopping its whirlwind rage stampede. Silver Wind Witch Dog cackled as it threw the silver wind star against the warrior monk.
Yiwaritala''s eyes furiously lit up; to the point that his eyes wanted bulge out of their sockets. The visage of a wrathful water buffalo erupted from him, engulfed him. Absorbing this, Yiwaritala became the buffalo, and they slammed their entire head against the silver wind star.
It shattered the silver wind star, dissipating it the same way a mountain range rendered monsoons worthless.
When the star dissipated, however, Yiwaritala staggered a bit, their breathing becoming heavy as their Sapi dwindled. Sweat mattered their robes to their skin.
Silver Wind Witch Dog saw this and carved in, a feaster to a feast. Before their Dragonbone Scimitar could scythe through Yiwaritala''s holy flesh, however, Ampun Sagara was there. With their hands on both sides of their face, they announced: "Fists of Iron Technique!" The gunmetal color of Ampun Sagara''s Sapi engulfed his hands. With their fists empowered, they punched the incoming scimitar away, completely breaking its arc and sending the Silver Wind Witch Dog staggering back.
"Ampun Sagara!" called out Yiwaritala.
"HM!" Ampun Sagara nodded, and then inhaled, before yelling: "Thunderclap Blitz Attack!"
In a blink of an eye, Ampun Sagara was before the staggering Silver Wind Witch Dog. They struck the demon''s torso in four quick blows. "Airotsana, Primordial Buddha! Kitama Sanjah, Jina of this Kalpa!" Silver Wind Witch Dog dug its heel and swung down. Ampun Sagara punched it once, and when its arc did not break, he proceeded to unleash a continuous flurry of fists to blow it away.
"Ha! The tenacity of thy fists bolsters thee and bringeth thee to Emancipation! Let me quicken the matter!" Silver Wind Witch Dog pulled back and then cut again immediately after, in an almost jackhammer motion. Ampun Sagara kept punching. Streams of inky will erupted from him, as he carved himself into the world.
"Tala Buddha, Merciful Hearer Buddha... the Armada of the Thousand Armed Compassions!" Ampun Sagara suddenly wove underneath the blade''s arc, and the scimitar shot over them, crashing into the earth beside Ampun Sagara. Silver Wind Witch Dog howled as the Dragonbone Scimitar embedded itself into the earth.
"Now! Ampun!"
"And Rutra Murat, the Almighty Termagant Buddha!" Ampun Sagara punched the Silver Wind Witch Dog''s right leg, forcing him to kneel on that foot. Then he elbowed the back of Silver Wind Witch Dog''s left knee, forcing him to kneel completely.
"Witness this violence!" Ampun Sagara twisted their entire body, energy pooling, vibrating, fulminating, keening into a thunderhead in a single fist. "Let my will be done, until the wheel is shattered! ALMIGHTY HEAVEN CRUSHER!" Ampun Sagara''s fist slammed straight down, down, down...
--Silver Wind Witch Dog uttered their own magick spell, and they flickered to the right just before the fist connected--
...into Silver Wind Witch Dog''s sword arm. The thunderhead fist exploded with such force that all was white for a split second, then the hand was all but annihilated. The earth where the Witch Dog''s arm hovered over shattered as well, sending a hole boring into the mountain.
The air about them flurried from this impact. In truth, it threatened to spin and converge and turn into a whirlwind, but Yiwaritala was there to spin his pewter staff, sending air to release the tension of the wind gods that had just seen this act of violent offering.
Silver Wind Witch Dog screamed into the day, the sun just high enough to witness this grotesque scene. "GAHHHHH! Wretched, lowly mortal martial artists! Thou slattern, sleazy power seizers! Arrgh!" Silver Wind Witch Dog staggered to the side.
Ampun Sagara fell to his knees, completely spent. That was their ultimate technique for now. At least their ultimate technique for their Heaven Thundering Hammer style. Their Sapi had been spent, burning through them and charring their bodies. Smoke wafted from Ampun Sagara. They yet breathed, but fatigue overtook them like a maul.
"I will get to Ampun Sagara," said Pilinitala, who had watched the spectacle of it all. They bounded forward, went under Ampun''s shoulder, and then bounded again. Before they could get any further, though, the Abbot flickered before them, took them both, and then flickered again. The next moment, they were with Doctor Myu Fan atop the hill.
"Thou worthless warriors, one and all!"
"You cannot grow back that arm without returning to an infernal womb," said Yiwaritala, smiling. "There is no Hri Kresshana cult nearby, at the End of the World!"
"Ha! Thou wilt perish by my hand yet!" Silver Wind Witch Dog swiped at Yiwaritala, and Yiwaritala struck back. They exchanged blows, pewter staff against longknife claws, until the pewter staff successfully rang a powerful blow that chipped one of Silver Wind Witch Dog''s claws.
Groaning, Silver Wind Witch Dog kicked Yiwaritala away far enough so that it could activate its own Sapi techniques. It flickered over to where their Dragonbone Scimitar lay. So that it could have the leverage needed for its wide arcing swipes, Silver Wind Witch Dog hefted the blade upon its shoulders.
It lunged forward and brought the Dragonbone Scimitar down upon Yiwaritala. The monk dove to the side to avoid the Scimitars, instead of using his Carabao-Body Deflections.
They engaged like this again. Coming in and out like fliting, piercing dragonflies against each other. Unfortunately, Silver Wind Witch Dog only seemed to grow quicker as their bloodlust incresased, while Yiwaritala increasingly slowed. A few Dragonbone Scimitar swings bit into Yiwaritala''s shoulder, grazed his chest--which had been ripped apart due to the force of their fighting--and slammed against his legs.
When Silver Wind Witch Dog managed to catch Yiwaritala off guard, it kicked him straight into the cliff-side with such force that the warrior monk bounced off of it. Then, he twisted in midair and swung down with his Dragonbone Scimitar. Yiwaritala, eyes closed in pain, managed to utter a magic spell just as the Dragonbone Scimitar slammed into him. The dragonbone smashed him into the ground, embedding him there, instead of slicing him in half.
"Ah, the lout-monk''s Sapi circulation is strong and dependable! How quaint!"
Yiwaritala coughed blood. Silver Wind Witch Dog thrust his blade down, and with a flex of his Sapi, Yiwaritala managed to dive to the side just before the blade exploded into the earth, boring a deep cut into the mountain''s rock. Yiwaritala skidded to a stop, wincing and tumbling.
The Abbot Wairojashra flickered there, caught his right-handed monk. Before he flickered back to the doctor, he turned to Raxri and nodded.
Raxri pressed their lips together.
The Abbot Wairojashra flickered again, and the two of them were up atop the cliff once again. Doctor Myu Fan was immediately upon Yiwaritala, cleansing his wounds with blessed waters, uttering secret healing magic spells, applying poultices and salves from jars etched with glowing elder script.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Raxri turned to Silver Wind Witch Dog, who absolutely glowered over them.
"Heh." Its voice was so deep it sounded like rocks being ground. "So thou art the champion of Giant Stone Monastery. If thou had come willingly, all of this," the demon turned around and gestured to the blood spilled upon the battlefield. "Would have been avoided."
"I hardly know who you are," said Raxri. "And I hardly know of anything that has happened in the past. Whatever trespasses the past Raxri has done upon you, I am not wary of it."
"What?" Silver Wind Witch Dog shook its head. "Thou meaneth to tell me thou hath somehow lost thy very memory? The Heavens sent me to kill a Raxri Uttara that is not the Heaven Dancer?"
"I know not even the implications of such a name," replied Raxri. Knowing the inevitable outcome of this back and forth, they unsheathed their blade and prepared themself, going down into the Adamantine Sword stance. Left hand open and loose in front of them, right hand holding the blade across their chest, pointing back. This is, in truth, a chambered position: five different slashes can be launched from this very position, and the target of the attack would not know which. It was one of the most powerful neutral positions in the world.
The battlefield at that point had been cleared of other combatants. All the other demons had been slain, and only a thick mist of dissipated Sapi took their place. Thankfully, Raxri had mastered breathing meditation, so they could power through the slush that the air had become. The winds howled and blew, sending dust clouds across them.
There was only the two of them now, Raxri saw. Just them and Silver Wind Witch Dog. Though Silver Wind Witch Dog was heavily impaired now: slashes gouged at its being, one of its eyes has been ripped out--probably by Yiwaritala. And, of course, it had an entire arm ripped away, and they carried their heavy looking Dragonbone Scimitar across their shoulder now for proper leverage just to wield it. Its breathing became heavy, unwieldy. The coruscating Sapi Furnace that Raxri had felt from it before grew fainter, duller, as if afraid to leap out against Raxri.
Meanwhile, Raxri rushed. Adrenaline turbocharged their Nihawa. Sapi burst through them like electricity.
They looked up at the clifftop. Abbot Wairojashra watched, though his hands were in a hand seal gesture. He nodded again.
"If you are chosen by the heavens," said Raxri. "Then no doubt you are of great strength and power."
"Three of thy champions have fought me and none have bested me!'' It roared in reply. "What makes thee think thou wilt change the outcome? I had been chosen by heaven to break thee! I have heard tales of the Heaven Dancer! The Conquering Monarch. The Heir To The Invincible Blade. The Gods-Feared. Thou art quite a character! But seeing thee here now, without that same strength thou no doubt once held... I must say, I am partly let down. Killing thee now would feel like pity. The ease of slaying thee would not be fit for an accomplishment to stitch among the stars! Oh, I curse the forgetting that has plagued thee. It has robbed me from a victory worthy of a trillion kalpas!"
Raxri walked forward, cautiously. Their legs crossing and uncrossing, the movement of their stance. Silver Wind Witch Dog walked as well, body readied to swing at any moment. They circled each other. "You spoke of the 108 Glaives of Heaven. Who are they?"
"Ah, of course thou doth not know!" Silver Wind Witch Dog grinned. Its teeth showed gleaming black sword-teeth. Raxri knew that even if it had lost an arm, it would still be able to rip their head off with nothing but their claws and fangs. Raxri did not know the protection spells and iron body techniques that Yiwaritala had. All their defenses relied on their tattoos and their talismans. That should be enough to prevent myself from being cut in half, they thought.
"Yes. Do they hunt me?"
"Of course they do! The 108 Glaives of Heaven was organized by the great immortal Reyayu Koduka, Throne-Taker, Castigate and Excoriate The Gods!"
The world shuddered when Silver Wind Witch Dog uttered that name.
Raxri stood firm.
Silver Wind Witchdog continued: "108 Glaives of Heaven, mercenaries of peak skill, martial ability and magickal power, hunt for thee. We are spread across the entirety of the Utter Islands. There will be no escape from us! We will raze the world until you are slain. In so doing, we will be able to eat thy Liver, and gain Transcendent Immortality!"
Raxri scowled. "So many people will be hurt in the Glaives of Heaven''s hunt for me? I will be chased down with impunity?"
"Ha!" Silver Wind Witch Dog barked out violently. "Grant thyself no pity, please. Thou wilt not go far from here, I promise thee." It leapt up, and struck down with its Dragonbone Scimitar.
Raxri dodged to the right, cleanly avoiding the jagged edge of the Dragonbone Scimitar. They made sure not to dodge too far, so that they ended up just in striking range of the Silver Wind Witch Dog''s hind leg. As the Scimitar smashed into the earth, Raxri performed Adamant Lightning Strikes. Empowered by Sapi and an almost serene fury at such revelations, they managed to strike ten times in the span of a heartbeat, cutting deep into Silver Wind Witch Dog''s leg with relative ease.
Silver Wind Witch Dog cried out, and fell toward Raxri as it buckled under the pain delivered to its left leg. As it fell, Raxri summoned the Devastating Red Hand, twisted, and then smashed the incoming body of Silver Wind Witch Dog, sending him flying towards a nearby boulder. Silver Wind Witch Dog''s body arched in pain as the boulder shattered into a thousand pieces.
"Argh!"
"I know nothing of my past," said Raxri Uttara. "But I know enough to know that there is severe injustice at play, here. Not only that, but great destruction is being waged in my name. How is this justice?!"
Silver Wind Witch Dog fell to its hands and spat out blood. Without another word, it flickered forward, surprising Raxri by leaving its Dragonbone Scimitar on the ground. Its clawed fist slammed straight into Raxri. They felt their granite talisman shudder violently as they skidded across the earth, tumbled, and then eventually slammed savagely into a nearby tree. It was enough force that Raxri''s body dug into the tree''s trunk, before the tree spat them out and they fell to the floor.
Ringing pain resounded from Raxri''s head. They had to shake it off. Their granite talisman shuddered but held. Their Shield Yantras, complete now, covered their entire body. Instead of straight pain and damage to their body, Raxri could feel their Sapi wavering at the strike. It was as if the tattoos converted the force of the damage into damage against the Sapi instead, letting it waver. But Raxri''s Sapi was indomitable, and vast, and almost bottomless.
Unfortunately, all those defensive accoutrements did nothing for Raxri''s pain. Pain shot through them all the same, almost numbing them, almost sending them into shock and blackness. But thanks to their prior meditations, they managed to claw their way out mentally from the grip of pleasure and pain.
Raxri took too slow to get up. The Dragonbone Scimitar slammed down into Raxri''s back, embedding them into the earth. They screamed, more out of surprise than pure pain. The yantras and the talismans held, but they slowly felt their Sapi waver now. If they allowed their Sapi to fully dissipate, there will be nothing left to shield them from the hurricane-force blows of this demon.
But it''s getting slower, said Raxri. All it will take is a good placed strike. Exhaling, they launched themself away from the crater that the Dragonbone Scimitar had made right as Silver Wind Witch Dog slammed down again. Raxri twisted in midair, performed the magic hand seal, and yelled: "Heavenly Lightning Saber!" as they launched three scathing sword beams straight into the Witch Dog''s sword hand.
"Ragh!" The Witch Dog yelped back in pain and let go of the Dragonbone Scimitar, leaving it embedded into the earth.
At that moment, the once quiet battlefield was filled with the unmistakable music of ripping boat lute resounding. This was alongside the high octane piping of a flute, accompanied by what seemed like an armada of gongs and drums striking and beating at a rate that only spirits could afford to perform. Was that... Vibujja? Was Vibujja finally returned, to grant sonor to Raxri''s triumph?
Now! Raxri knew there was no time to waste. With another exhalation they bounded forward, performing Devastating Red Hand just as Silver Wind Witch Dog reached for their Dragonbone Scimitar once again. Then, ducking low into position, they performed Adamant Lightning Strikes again, three slashes into Silver Wind Witch Dog''s side before they had to switch into a defensive retreat-strike as the demon swiped down with its longknife claws.
Raxri did not let up, however. The second they retreated, they immediately converted into a backhand thrust, that they converted into wide, horizontal slash that cut deep into Silver Wind Witch Dog''s hand.
Howling in pain, Silver Wind Witch Dog turned, grabbed, and swung the Dragonbone Scimitar in a single motion. Raxri was ready, however. They imbued their live hand with the Whorl Guard, making it adamantine against blows. Then, they performed the one-handed mudra for Heavenly Lightning Deflection.
With a spark of light, the giant Dragonbone Scimitar, almost the very height of Raxri, was deflected. Silver Wind Witch Dog was wide open.
Raxri, still in battle meditation, rushed forward and performed a lightning fast flurry of three Adamant Lightning Strikes techniques, circular, dragon motions that cut and bit and thrust and slashed and punctured. At the end of it, a final vertical circular strike--which the Abbot had called Dragon Swallows The Sun--chopped off Silver Wind Witch Dog''s sword hand clean off. This was on top of the hundred slashes Raxri delivered upon Silver Wind Witch Dog''s torso.
Silver Wind Witch Dog screamed again in pain. Blinded now by rage, it kicked the Dragonbone Scimitar into the air, and then leapt up to grab it. Raxri retreated, exhaling and performing the hand motions for the Light Body Technique.
The demon dog caught the Dragonbone Scimitar''s handle with their giant maw, and landed onto the ground with nothing but a stump for an arm, and a blade in their hands. Its wounds, instead of bleeding, burned and blazed with a dark iridescent flame, reminiscent of slow-moving oil.
No more words left to say. Silver Wind Witch Dog flickered forward, faster than Raxri could grasp with their awareness. A hasty defense saved Raxri from being cut in half with an overwhelming blow. The second its blow hit, it flickered away again, and then it returned with another strike that Raxri barely blocked. The next time it did it, the Dragonbone Scimitar hit home. Raxri felt the force of it completely break through their Sapi. The next attack was decisive, the blow sent them into the air, their Sapi a wavering flame now, and they felt both the pain and the bruises flower from the spot hit. As Raxri fell to the ground, Silver Wind Witch Dog twisted, bringing their giant Dragonbone Scimitar with them, ready to finally, finally, slice Raxri in half.
Not yet. I cannot fail yet...! Akazha! Jikajika! Pilinitala! Yiwaritala! Abbot Wairojashra! Doctor Myu Fan! Tattooist Ampun Sagara! Raxri squeezed their eyes shut as tears flowed. Not yet. Please!
Akazha''s words struck again. Cease hesitation, seize victory! They focused, pinpointing their meditation until it was harder than adamantine, uncuttable by diamond, indesctructible even by Shagara''s Thunderbolt. Set your heart ablaze, Raxri. Grit your teeth and set your heart ablaze!
Grit my teeth...! Raxri''s meditation provided a wellspring of Sapi. They twisted in midair with the help of their Light Body Technique, and then they twisted their blade about, performing a ribboning maneuver.
Raxri chanted the chant of their seniors: "RAYUKINIG BUDDHA, AIROTSANA BUDDHA, AND KITAMA SANJAH BUDDHA..." With a twist of their Sapi, they managed to lighten themselves enough so that they landed feet first on Silver Wind Witch Dog''s blade. This stopped the demon general''s arc, surprise seizing it. There! Raxri ran up the blade, cutting all the while. "TALA BUDDHA AND WANGGANG SENAG BUDDHA OF THE INFINITE LIGHT!"
When they reached Silver Wind Witch Dog''s head, they leaped. They soared in an arc over the Silver Wind Witch Dog''s skull, and at the vulnerable spot right before their neck... "RUTRA MURAT, THE TERMAGANT BUDDHA! SET MY HEART ABLAZE!"
And there, upside down, in mid-air, with a desperate burst of Nihawa, Raxri unleashed all five techniques of the Adamant Lightning Strikes in the span of a heartbeat. All focused on the fleshy portion of Silver Wind Witch Dog''s head.
"UNTIL ALL BEINGS ARE FREE!"
If one were watching Raxri from afar, one would''ve no doubt noticed that a company of Buddha, in their wrathful emanations, emanated from their body, boring down with mad eyes and hands in fierce mudras. This assemblage of fierce deities was enough to make even the Abbot Wairojashra bow in homage.
But that was only for a moment. In the next moment, they were all gone, dissipated, their essence distilled into Raxri''s lightning-quick blade, which flashed, flickered, fluttered, and then finally, shot like lightning...
...down...
...down...
...down...
...when Raxri reappeared they were below the Silver Wind Witch Dog.
A black line bisected reality. If I could bisect this very manuscript to tell you the truth of the slash, I would.
The Silver Wind Witch Dog''s head fell, an impossibly clean, vertical cut. [1.36] Blessings of the Bidaree
The bidaree are celestial dancers. Avian in image, they are powerful reachers of heaven who in their past life have attained good karma through the deeds of their heart. Bidaree are master musicians and singers as well, and many Musical Arts are passed down by them to mortal bards and epic-singers. Just like gods, they are capable of protecting entire villages through the power of their Sapi, which manifests through sonorous chanting or singing. Many villages are protected through the patronage of a bidaree. From the Middle World Sacred Scripture
Even if one were to be able to speak then, one would hold their tongue. The very magnitude of the event forced all those that witnessed it into silence. Even the assembly of Vibujja''s musicians, who now dissipated as the quiet could not maintain their essence the same way the clash and clang of violence did.
Raxri''s breathing was rapid, all out of air. The body of Silver Wind Witch Dog fell limp, slumped onto the mountain. No blood stained the earth. No fireflies floated up either, and neither did the body dissipate into locks of Sapi-twine. Instead, blackblood spurted and spilled from their neck, floating upwards, as if to heaven, instead of down into the earth.
Raxri rose to their feet and watched, hand gripping Puksa. It was like a waterfall in reverse, gushing upwards to heaven, eventually dispersing, deteriorating, dissipating. As it dissipated, the blackblood slowly turned a bright gold.
Then the bright gold motes turned into wind. And the winds... flocked about Raxri, whorling about them, twisting as if they were being vacuumed. Transmission, thought Raxri. They were being transmitted the Sapi of this being...
Raxri followed where the rest of the gold winds flowed. There they saw that it flowed as well to Ampun Sagara, and to Yiwaritala, and to Pilinitala, and even to Doctor Myu Fan.
When the speechless people saw Raxri looking at them, cheering erupted from the cliff.
Abbot Wairojashra flickered, disappearing from the clifftop and reappearing beside Raxri. He smiled, patting Raxri on the back. "I knew you could do it," he said. "It had to be you."
Raxri winced, as the adrenaline slowly left them and burning pain emanated in throbs from their liver and arms and legs and stomach. Nevertheless, they managed a smile and nod. "Thank you, Abbot. I... tried my best."
"It worked, my dear student. However..." the Abbot looked at the quickly deteriorating body. "It seems what you just slew was no demon. But rather a god. A servant of Heaven...?"
"What?" Raxri looked down on their hands, and then on the body. "But... killing is a precept. I have slain a beautiful being!" Guilt and worry wracked their body, skewering through them like a thousand javelins. How could this be? The karma they will accrue from this...
"Remember," said the Abbot. "Karma arises not from the action, but from the intent. Your intent was good. Though killing is a precept, and no good consequence will arise from it, through the mystic rituals of the Anantadharma, we will be able to cleanse you of this karma that you did not deserve."
"Really?"
The Abbot nodded. "It is one of the secrets of our sect. Now perish your worry of this for now. Follow me."
Raxri nodded and did so. The Abbot beckoned for the rest of the people to follow him as well. They did, the majority of them floating down upon Light Body Technique, the other majority being helped down, as they were not cultivators.
Abbot Wairojashra walked up past the cave, and into a stone path that eventually became stairs, flanked by beautiful bamboos and trees. They climbed up the path until it arrived at a large white stone, so conical it seemed manmade, but just imperfect enough to have been birthed by nature.
Upon the stone was a spirit house, dedicated to a number of gods. One of the ones that Raxri could recognize was the one of the half-avian singer, Vibujja.
The Abbot gave everyone a stick of incense, and then said: "Follow me, and let us offer this battle to the mountain gods and the Buddhas." He then walked to the shrine, bowed thrice, and then placed the incense upon the metal lotus incense burner. Raxri followed right after, and then Yiwaritala, and then Ampun, and then the Doctor Myu Fan, and then Pilinitala, and then eventually everyone. Even those mercenaries that did not seem like the type to give offerings to the gods.
After everyone was done, the Abbot cried out: "Oh, mountain gods! Accept our offering and our apologies. The world is fallen to death and violence and war! But we keep Mount Jura safe evermore, keep it far away from the bloodshed. Please, forgive us, and please accept our humble offering!" Everyone kowtowed.
"We take it." The voice was familiar. Raxri rose up first and saw that it was Vibujja, plucking away at her boat lute.
"Vibujja!"
"O, dearest Raxri Uttara. Thy performance was nothing short of sublime!" She clapped her hands. "Nay, it was not just Raxri Uttara. The entirety of the Monastery! You have done well!"
"Bidaree Vibujja!" The Abbot rose as well, and everyone followed. "You watched?"
"More than watched. I provided music for Raxri''s final blow! Dost thou not remember?"
The crowd of mercenaries made a noise behind them. Something like, "Oh so that''s where that was coming from."
_"_Ah, forgive me. My heart was yet captured by the fight," said the Abbot. "The mountain gods, then, take this meager offering?"
Vibujja nodded. "Thou must know that are thankful that thou perished Silver Wind Witch Dog. Ever since Heaven commanded them to come here, our lives have been nothing but hell. Dealing with those dog demon dretches who do nothing but kill and take from our spirit stores. Living in Mount Jura had become a hell of its own!"
Raxri blinked and said: "Ah, is that why the great spirit was in the Pemiwood?"
Vibujja smiled. "Dear Raxri Uttara is truly one of sharp intellect! This is correct. Living here was horrible. We knew they were going to strike at the monastery, so we did all that we could to lengthen the process, creating blockades and even having some of our own spirit ranks fight them! This is why thou were able to train for three moons. We knew thou would be fighting the Witch Dog at three moons, no matter what. Thou never missed a mountain god ritual."
The Abbot bowed again. "The Monastery is once again within your care and thanks. Your protection is ever appreciated, and we will dedicate our lives to keeping the peace in Mount Jura in return."
"Good," said Vibujja. "The Mountain Gods are all happy, worry not, dear Abbot. The Monastery will continue to enjoy the mountain''s patronages, as long as the Monastery performs the proper rituals. This act of cleansing the mountain no doubt has granted thee large favor in the eyes of the mountain gods."
"Bidaree Vibujja," interjected Raxri. "If I may ask... was the Silver Wind Witch Dog a god, in truth?"
Vibujja nodded, almost enthusiastically. "Yes! A Lieutenant in Heaven. Too bad they took on that mercenary job. They had a lot of karma left to burn."Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
"Were they not sent by heaven?" asked Raxri.
Vibujja shook their head. "They work under a being that has reached heaven, but is not a Celestine himself. He is a Cultivator instead, like thee. Reyayu Koduka. Apparently thy reputation is less than favorable in the Heavens, Raxri. They calleth thee butcher, upstart, slattern, arrogant murderer..." Vibujja grimaced and shrugged. "But the Raxri I know is none of those things."
Raxri smiled and nodded. Doubt gripped their heart. Who was I...?
The Abbot bowed again. "The monastery has thine everliving thanks, great bidaree. I will hope that Mount Jura is now a comfortable abode for you once again."
Bidaree Vibujja smiled and shook her head. "It will be for the mountain gods. As for me, I''ve already told Raxri that I will watch over them as a cloud, just so I can sing and fill their moments with music. I will be their watcher, a guardian spirit!"
"That is horribly kind of thee, great singer!" said Raxri.
Vibujja nonchalantly waved their hand. "I''ve been wanting to do another round across the Utter Islands, so think nothing of it. Now, go and find repose, dearlings. Thou mortals... thou hath gone through a most harrowing battle. The Mountain Gods have seen it fit to bless the springwaters for tonight and tomorrow. If thou bathe within them, no doubt thy wounds will be healed much quicker."
"We are in your debt as ever, great bidaree, and great mountain gods," said the Abbot. Vibujja bowed back, and then took to the skies, leaping off of the mountain cliff.
The Abbot turned and said: "Let us feast and rest."
When they returned to the monastery, there was a certain depressive mood. The darkness seemed even darker, despite the torches and lotus-lights.
When the doors were swung open, however, and the monks that were meditating in front of the Tala Buddha turned to see who had entered, the darkness was ripped away and replaced with the cheers of the monks within.
Everyone came up to the Abbot, Yiwaritala, and Ampun Sagara, leaping and jumping and wooting and hollering. A hero''s welcome.
"They''d done it! They''d come home! They beat the Demon Chief!"
Raxri smiled as this all came to pass. Even the mercenaries, hardened though as they were, couldn''t help but smiling as well. They all walked over to the eating hall and saw that there were food already readied by the attendant disciple monks. Large heaps of freshwater sardines, sheaves of cabbage leaves, heaps and heaps of rice, mushrooms, and tofu drenched in soy sauce. There were even noodles, dipped and made flavorful by vinegars, soy sauces, and chilis. It was, in truth, a powerful feast fit for a king. But there were no kings here, only monks. Only survivors.
Raxri ate away. They conversed happily as they did.
"I had no idea that you could do that!" Ampun Sagara had jabbed at
Raxri. Raxri shrugged and only responded by saying that they didn''t do it willingly. And also, "I didn''t know you could do all that either! You destroyed that demon god."
Ampun Sagara smiled and shrugged. "Decades of martial practice was not for nothing."
"I could not have defeated SIiver Wind Witch Dog without you."
Yiwaritala smiled. "I am full glad that we were able to weaken it for you," said Yiwaritala. Raxri laughed. "But, in all seriousness. Thank you, Raxri. Despite what we were capable of doing, you were the one that finished it off. You could''ve died. The Abbot made a good choice. Though your strength is still lacking compared to ours, you did good all the same."
Raxri smiled. Was this Yiwaritala being proud of them?
"I can hardly believe I''m getting praised by Yiwaritala of all people," Raxri said, and the table they sat on erupted into laughter. Yiwaritala scowled.
"Don''t wear it out."
Pilinitala was happily eating away as well. "Cherish it while you can, Raxri," she said, in between slurps of hot noodles. "This is a currency most rare!"
"I understand that too well." And Raxri laughed back. "But Pilinitala you were amazing!"
Pilinitala chopped off the noodle they were slurping and grinned. "I know! I''ve been waiting forever to be able to show off my skills."
"Oh, that''s right," Ampun Sagara said, slowly as realization dawned on him. "It was the two of you that took out the Dog Demon Sorcerer. That''s why their ranks weren''t replenishing!" He laughed heartily again.
"Pilinitala fought much better than I could, in truth," said Raxri as they shoved a vegetable dumpling into their mouth.
Pilinitala rolled her eyes. "Don''t believe this one. Their battle prowess is one to be scared of. They even jumped in between me and a rock spike. Thankfully, they could harness their Sapi so the rock spike didn''t just skewer them through like a lance!"
"Your Sapi truly is a wonder to behold," said Yiwaritala, shoving some rice with fish into his mouth. "You are ignorant. But once taught, you quickly catch up. A few moons of training you is almost a year. And with that unlocked your latent skill bursts through momentarily, such as when you slew Silver Wind Witch Dog."
Ampun Sagara nodded. "Sometimes, it feels as though their memory is simply locked away, instead of gone."
Pilinitala interjected: "Or! Or, their memory is gone, but their skill is locked away and can be unlocked with the key of training."
"Your wisdom is unsurpassed, Pilinitala."
"Oh get off my ass, Yiwaritala."
As everyone erupted into laughter, Raxri looked around. Ampun Sagara noticed them turning here and there and said: "Looketh you for the Doctor?"
Raxri blinked, and then said, "Y-Yes."
"They''re sleeping in the guestroom. Your guestroom. She went there straightways. No doubt she''s asleep."
Raxri furrowed their eyebrows. "Why my room?"
Yiwaritala used their chopsticks to finish the last of their dumplings. "No doubt to see if you are overly harmed," he said.
Raxri grimaced, and remembered the wounds they had sustained. Were they due for another verbal beatdown? They sighed. "Right, of course."
Ampun Sagara said: "Do me a favor, Raxri. Make sure the doctor has proper sleep. Oh, and maybe bring her to the spring waters so she herself can have a bit of relief."
Pilinitala nodded. "You do know, Raxri, that she stayed here only because of what happened to you?"
Raxri remembered. They were supposed to leave to return home, somewhere in the Nunuk Vale. Instead, they were forced to stay and were swallowed into the whole war against the dog demons instead.
Sighing, Raxri said: "Yes, I know, I know. No further salt upon the wound, please."
The table roared into laughter once again.
The rest of the night went well and right. The air seemed to be lighter. A great weight had no doubt been lifted off the shoulders of the folk in the monastery. Raxri began making their way back to their guestroom, when Pilinitala leapt in to stop them and said: "The Abbot is waiting for you in the meditation room."
"Right." Raxri diverted their course and made their way towards the meditation room instead.
Within the meditation room was the lone figure of Abbot Wairojashra, performing their kowtows and prostrations to the statue of the Scarlet God Buddha. When the Abbot saw them enter, they gestured for Raxri to do the same. Knowing that it was important, they did.
Then, looking up at the Termagant Buddha, Wairojashra said: "You did excellently, Raxri Uttara. Heaven Dancer. That''s what they called you, it seemed. The spirits."
"Heaven Dancer... What does that mean?"
"It is a title for a being that has attained both Magick and Martial Arts, and was about to leap into the realm of the heavens."
"Is it a cultivation stage, Abbot?"
The Abbot shook their head. "But it might be a title. Related to the term vidyadhara. Ancient mystics. Where the word wizard comes from, after moving through southern Hiraga Ra-Om where it becomes wezzja.."
Raxri blinked. Wizard? Is that not what Akazha...
The Abbot continued: "It seems heaven itself hunts after you. You must know the repercussions of this. You must seek about your past, if you wish to find a way to cease it. For the benefit of more people. I know it will be difficult, but it might be of great import."
"Yes." Raxri nodded. "I know it will be important, Abbot. I will endeavor to know, with all my power."
"I wish what I have taught you is enough."
"I believe it is, Abbot. Did you see what I was able to do?"
"Yes, but Silver Wind Witch Dog is of low cultivation. You could... no, should, have been able to deal with this easily. Whatever being forced your Sapi to be extinguished... they are a powerful being. Perhaps, even, they have access to Forbidden Techniques."
"Forbidden Techniques...?" Raxri tilted their head to the side.
The Abbot waved their hand dismissively. "I do have a favor for you, Raxri," said the Abbot. "It will be safer for everyone if you did not tarry any longer here, lest we attract the ire of the very heavens. However, please keep yourself safe. And find who did this to you. I await your return and your triumph."
Raxri smiled. "Yes, Abbot. Of course."
"But tomorrow will be reserved for a Karma-Cleansing Ritual. Be there, if you wish yourself to be lightened. And afterwards, I will teach you to meditate before an altar, so that the Sapi you have absorbed you can properly catalyze and transmute into your Sapi Furnace."
"Through Meditation, Abbot?"
The Abbot nodded. "Cultivating requires Meditation in one form of another. It is the mental equivalent of working out. This is the act of catalyzing all collected Sapii into one''s own Sapi Furnace. By doing this, one achieves the next stage of Cultivation, though this must be guided by compassion. I will teach you tomorrow. Do not be late, understood?"
Raxri nodded. "Yes, Abbot. Thank you. For everything." They kowtowed to the Abbot.
The Abbot smiled and nodded as well. "If you want to thank me, use what you''ve learned to save all that you can. Let thy will be done, Raxri Uttara." [1.37] Spear and Shield Contemplation
Cultivation is about intent. The lesser cultivate for power, the better cultivate for immortality, the greatest cultivate for Liberation, the Unsurpassable cultivates for Mass Enlightenment. If one''s intent for cultivation is strength, you are on the right path. If one''s intent for cultivation is freedom, then you are on the right path. If one''s intent for cultivation is compassion and loving-kindness, then you are on the Royal Road. Wield Love Like The Sword That It Is. Treatise on Loving-Kindness and the Wheel of Violence
Raxri returned to their guest room not much longer afterwards. They had to fight through throngs of people that were congratulating them, hugging them, ruffling their hair. Though Raxri was only here for a few moons, they immediately felt as though they belonged, somehow. Despite everything.
Despite having to leave for their own safety.
Raxri sighed and walked in through the door of the guestroom and shut the door behind them. When they turned around, they paused. They had to make out what was the dark figure splayed across the bed before them.
When Raxri closed in, they realized that it was no one else but Doctor Myu Fan. They were snoring, even.
Raxri exhaled. It''s good that she''s asleep, at least. The doctor has never slept. Even now, they could smell the aroma of coffee emanating from the coffee brewing kettle they kept on the side table. Raxri realized, then, that the doctor had turned their guestroom into their own guestroom while they were away. They weren''t even able to notice at first when they first returned here due to their own fatigue.
Raxri removed their tunic and sarong. They had removed their armor and returned it to the armor before going to eat. Wearing nothing but a wide kilt-like loincloth that covered the entirety of their thighs, they moved over to the part of the bed where there was less of Doctor Myu Fan and tried to squeeze themselves in.
Doctor Myu Fan stirred when Raxri lightly pushed them away. They were naked, as most people were when sleeping in the Utter Islands. They pushed them away gingerly by the shoulder, turning them away from themselves, and then lay down.
"Raxri Uttara...?"
Raxri froze. The Doctor''s hands wandered, patting the space behind her until she touched Raxri. "Is that you?"
"Uh, yes, doctor. You did not eat."
She yawned. "I''m... too tired." She stretched. Raxri wiggled away, pressing themself against the wall. Despite this, unfortunately, the Doctor had absolutely no sense of personal space, and they even turned and twisted in the bed in such a way that caused their bounteous chest to scrape against Raxri''s own. Raxri froze, and just pretended to sleep.
The doctor Myu Fan''s hands and legs landed upon Raxri in an embrace. Her supple flesh pressed against their supple flesh. "Did you eat?" she whispered, low and soft.
Raxri replied: "Yes."
"That''s good. You need their remedial soups and dishes to rejuvenate you after all you did." Their words trailed off.
"Did all the fighting truly tire you out?"
Myu Fan nodded against Raxri''s back. "Not just the fighting, but the healing and medicining. All that... takes its toll."
Raxri nodded in understanding. As they stayed in that position, Raxri began softening and almost melting under Myu Fan''s touch. Her soft skin became like a blanket, an embrace... one that they''ve never had in all these months. In truth, in the chaos of all the confusion, it was something that Raxri did not want to think about. They enjoyed the thoroughness of companionship with everyone else.
Raxri feared that the touch of someone this softly... It might lead them down a dangerous path. Of craving.
Silently, they chanted the Merciful Hearer''s Mantra. Then, they decided to enjoy the warm touch of another sentient being, caressing, as if there were no one else to save. As if there were no past Raxri Uttara that once existed and that they must now surpass. As if there were no expectation. As if there were no burning hatreds and Swords of Heaven trying to hunt them down and slay them. For now, they were enough. Unbidden, Raxri snuggled close.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
A moment of silence passed.
Raxri felt Myu Fan lean in closer, her breath hot against the back of their neck, and whispered: "Raxri... know you of Dual Contemplation?"
Raxri wasn''t asleep, and they weren''t one to tend they were and ignore the question of someone that had helped them so many times, even in the present moment. Slowly, they opened their eyes and shook their head once. "No. I don''t think so."
Myu Fan made a sensual sound. "Mmh... it is a form of cultivation... Internal Alchemists call it Dual Cultivation, while the mystics and sages call it Dual Contemplation. It is when a pair of cultivators conjoin together in an intimate act to strengthen one another''s Sapi Furnace and act as a form of meditation that breaks open obstacles to Enlightenment."
Raxri could realize now why there were so many obstacles to Enlightenment. In fact, even just living normally seemed like an obstacle to Enlightenment. In a lightning flash of realization, they realized that existence is an obstacle to Enlightenment!
"Would you like to try it?"
Raxri excitedly turned around to face Myu Fan. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes heavily lidded, as if they would fall asleep at any time. "What are the other benefits, doctor?" Anything for a shot at a new cultivation technique.
"Well," she said, suddenly perking up and smiling. "Other than sudden bliss being a white-hot point that reaches the true nature of the Uncreated Mind, union also allows us to share our Sapi with each other, granting both of us equal amounts of Sapi to cultivate our Furnaces."
"Ah, so it truly is a bespoke form of cultivation on its own?"
Doctor Myu Fan nodded. "Though it is taboo in the northern regions of the Utter Islands for reasons of control and suffocating nomistry. Dual Cultivation is the slow nurturing of two souls to eventual Liberation. Even our very own Infinite Law has dual contemplations. In fact, the highest and most secret teaching of some of the Thunderbolt Sects is the usage of sex to achieve Buddhahood in a single lifetime. Immortality beyond immortality."
"I see." They thought about what the Abbot had said. What they had lost. They were once a Heaven-Dancer, someone who even the gods trembled before. If even gods were capable of fierce and dastardly deeds such as what Lieutenant Silver Wind Witch Dog did, then Raxri knew that they must have the power to subjugate even the gods. Every form of cultivation, especially those that align with their Path of Enlightenment, must bolster through.
"Another benefit," said the Doctor. "Is that the shared will can also quicken healing processes, remove fatigue, and cleanse ailments... if done properly with the proper ritual."
"If this will help the doctor, then I am all too willing," said Raxri.
"I am leaving in the morning, after the Karma-Flensing Ritual," said the Doctor. "Other than medicines and elixirs I will leave you, this is the final thing I can give you as your doctor."
Raxri smirked. "I suppose it is the least I can do as well with you," they said. "Seeing that I am indebted to you thousandfold."
"You are. You are." Her voice became slow, almost quivering. Her breathing had become intensely hot. Her gray eyes shivered. Raxri''s eyes slowly adjusted to the low moonlight. Doctor Myu Fan''s body was supple, well-fed. None of the almost to-the-bone skin of Akazha, instead Doctor Myu Fan was well-endowed and well-fleshed. Her bounteous breasts fell lazily to the side. Her nether regions veiled by hair. Her entire body covered in a light down of hair. "Sapi you come with me? Will you practice with me?"
Raxri nodded. "Guide me, please, doctor. I''ve no knowledge of this."
The doctor reached down to remove Raxri''s bahag, tossing it behind her. Then she pressed close. Her breasts squishing softly against Raxri''s own. "Let me guide you. For this moment, I will be the yogini, and I will guide you to sudden bliss."
There are no words that will suffice to explain this. And so, I leave you with the negation.
Raxri woke to the sun''s rays barely peeking over the waters of the horizon. It was the exact moment of dawn, when the blackness of night lightened into dark dark indigo that mixed with the halogen oranges of the sky. The stars still speckled. The willow trees and cypresses, the mahoganies and the bamboos... they all swayed in the wind. The sound of the rushing blessed waters of the spring outside was met with the soft cackle of birdwing beating against the clouds. No cocks crowed that morning.
Raxri and Myu Fan had fallen asleep in their intertwined lotus position. Sweaty and slick, Myu Fan woke up as well as they did. "Beautiful morning," said Raxri. Myu Fan smiled and said it back.
Raxri felt themselves lighter, and more importantly, felt their Sapi Furnace burning brighter. The fatigue truly had escaped them now, at this point. Myu Fan kissed Raxri, and then their forehead, before rising to her feet. She took a piece of silk cloth that lay beside their mattress to catch the residual pieces of their essences. In a matter of minutes, no trace of their essences could be found.
"You did well," said Myu Fan, smiling still. In the clear light of dawn, Raxri admired Myu Fan''s sheer body, curved and soft, skin dark brown, ass greatly curved, breasts hanging low. She put on her clothes again, first her undergarments, and then a huge textile cloth--this one red, black, and green, decorated in geometric pattern--that she wrapped around her chest, covering her entire figure. "We should away to the springs while the blessing lingers."
Raxri nodded. "Oh, right. Yes." Raxri took their own textile cloth, this one blue, white, and orange, with similar geometric patterns that resembled more dragons moving in irregular angular vectors. They similarly wrapped it around their chest area to mimic Doctor Myu Fan. And then they walked together to the springs. [1.38] Karma Cleansing Ritual
YET ABANDON UTOPIA. Perfection is a direction. It will never be achieved. WE MUST BE CONTENT WITH THE DIRECTION OF PERFECTION. And so this world will revel in the challenges of a world in the wake of the end, where the most well meaning gets to create it, but the HUMAN CONDITION OF IMPERFECTION is the constant enemy. We are our own vices. We cannot help it. ¡°WHY TRY THEN?¡± ¡°NOTHING WORTH DOING IS EVER EASY. ENLIGHTENMENT IS A DIRECTION. KEEP WALKING. NIRVANA IS NOT THE DESTINATION BUT THE JOURNEY.¡± A WORLD OF VIOLENCE AND CHAOS, KEPT TOGETHER BY SPIRIT GUIDES AND FIREBRAND FIGUREHEADS, BEING RIPPED APART BY THE CHOICES OF THE PAST, THE GHOST OF THE FUTURE, AND THE COMPETING IDEOLOGIES OF THE PRESENT. ONLY THOSE WITH THE WILL TO CHANGE IT WILL CHANGE IT. BREAK HEAVEN¡¯S PILLARS, THE WORLD WILL MEET THE WORLD. HINGSAJAGRA. From The Metriyan Manifesto
There in the springs, so early in the dawning morning, there were only a scant few monks and some of the mercenaries that haven''t yet left.
Raxri sat beside Myu Fan, almost melting into the healing springs. They let out a sigh and it felt like a thunder god had lifted a weight from them. Myu Fan did the same, almost motionless in the spring. Raxri was supposed to ask a question, but when they saw the doctor enjoying the springs a bit too much, they decided to save it for later.
"You were surprisingly well-versed in intercourse-movements," said Myu Fan, smiling. Raxri looked over and Myu Fan was still resting against the rocks, eyes closed, facing the sky. "It seems, even though your temporary mind has forgotten, your body yet remembers. No doubt fucking was common to you before you lost your memory."
Raxri blinked. "Was I?" They tilted their head to the side. "I simply let my instincts take over. I have no expert knowledge on the art of intercourse."
"Well, while you''re not the best, you were decent, for someone who has lost all memory and probably would not be able to remember if they were virgin or not. You are not, by the way. I concluded this. And thank the divinities you aren''t. How embarassing that would''ve been."
Raxri raised an eyebrow, stared at a nearby boulder as they sank into the hot springs until they were covered up to their neck. "Would it be embarassing?"
Myu Fan nodded. "At least, in the Nunuk Vale. And in the Selorong River Communes. Let not virgin blood dapple you, lest demons seize you. They always say. From what I gather, it''s somewhat a ''maturity'' thing rather than a hedonistic one." Myu Fan shifted. "I''m surprised by your ability to control yourself. Often, the beings I help in this way reach their bliss in short order."
"I simply applied meditation," said Raxri, after thinking about it for a bit.
"Right. Controlling the Nihawa, the Sapi... of course. Ah, I should heal more yogas and contemplatives more. I cannot perform such a healing ritual with the monks, as you know. With the Vow of Celibacy and all."
Raxri smiled and nodded. "So that was a healing ritual, what we did?"
"Partly. With Contemplatives and Meditationists such as you, it is indeed a mystic ritual. I am not inducted in the true art of Yoga, but I see that it has helped you anyway. For others, when they require an intense healing, one that must come quickly, then I perform such a ritual. Of course, it must come with appropriate payment, which is given both in materiel and in spiritual exchangement."
"I see. So it is a form of cultivation?"
Myu Fan nodded, sinking a bit deeper into the healing waters. "Yes. Dual Cultivation, as I''ve already told you. Most cultivation is self-cultivation, you see. Dual Cultivation is when a pair cultivate."
Raxri nodded in sudden understanding. They became excited, all of a sudden. A new form of cultivation. I can reach my past levels in due time with this. "Are all Dual Cultivations sexual in nature?"
Myu Fan smiled and shook her head. "Nay. While sex is a powerful ritual when done properly, there are other forms of dual cultivation. Proximity, commitment... There are even forms of Group Cultivation."
"Ah, sex with more than two people. Of course." Raxri nodded, matter-of-factly.
Myu Fan stifled a chuckle. "Yes, but not just that. Group Cultivation is a dangerous form of cultivation. Mostly because it is the one that Cults use to accrue power for their cult heads. Truly blessed group cultivation deals in collective ritual that strengthens every being in the group. Some pujas can be considered Group Cultivations, for example."
"I see. Doctor, another question: if two beings were to engage in Dual Cultivation and they do not have the vajra-lotus pair... what would they do?"
Doctor Myu Fan shrugged. "They create one. The fingers become the vajra, the tongue become the vajra, other accoutrements can be come vajras. If two beings have two vajras, then the mouth can become a lotus, the ass can become the lotus. It is all symbolic, as they are all empty."
Raxri nodded. Right. The Emptiness Doctrine. "I see. Doctor, what is a vajra?"
The doctor kept smiling. Raxri bit their lip and said: "A-ah! But I don''t want to bombard the doctor with questions while she''s resting."
Myu Fan shook her head. "It''s fine, Raxri Uttara. Now... a vajra... well. A sort of club-trident... I will have to show you later. It is something that the Termagant Buddha wields. More importantly, it belongs to the King of the Gods, Shagara. It is Their Almighty Thunderbolt, which annihilates those it must annihilate. It is a symbol of ultimate power, of the unsurpassable, of the indestructible, of the undeniable. This is why the Infinite Law also calls itself the Thunderbolt Law, or the Adamantine Law. It is the undeniable Logic of the Buddhas."
"Now I understand," said Raxri. "Finally, I understand."
"You never thought to ask, all this time?"
Raxri smiled sheepishly. "Everyone acted as if they knew. I thought it would be too out of place for me to ask."
Myu Fan smirked. "In any case, the term vajra comes from the language of the Refuge of the Gnostics. In Elder Karitan, it is rendered BADRA. That is a syllable in the unification mantra that we chanted."
"Ah, so that was a unification mantra? Is that required for the healing ritual?" Raxri pondered, staring listlessly into the woods.
Myu Fan said, "No, it isn''t. But it seemed to work, didn''t it? They say that that is the mantra chanted by The Lady Egoless, and it is chanted when performing the Sun and Moon Eclipse Ritual. That is, the ritual that fuses two beings together temporarily to create a powerful new being where their Cultivations are exponentially more powerful."If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Raxri blinked. They turned to Myu Fan. "That''s possible? How can I attain this knowledge?"
Doctor Myu Fan shook their head. "It is an utterly high level technique. One that not even the Abbot can teach you. It''s the most esoteric of the mystical practices. I have only heard of it in hushed words. Some say one only needs to dance with a partner to fuse. Others say they must have sex with a partner to perform the fusion."
"Interesting," Raxri said, tapping their chin with the tip of their finger. "I will keep that one filed away. Ah, before I forget. Please, Doctor Myu Fan: what did you mean by yogini, yogi, and yoga? And the act of yoking?"
Myu Fan laughed, then. She didn''t stifle this one anymore. Still, she didn''t open her eyes, still floating amongst the serene warm springs. "Yoking is something you will no learn of in due time, if you dance down the mystic path. In Elder Karitan it is called, Yauga. In Ancient Razrunan it is known as Yoga, Yoke comes from the word Yoga. The term yoga itself means the mystical practices for yoking not just the Mind, but also the Body. It tends to be... advanced, however. It''s taught here in the monastery that the most powerful thing in all of reality is the Mind. But the Mind Deluded is wild and hard to be tamed. Its power can do anything but it destroys aimlessly. It is dangerous and unbidden. To control the mind, one must yoke it, as one would yoke a carabao. Therefore, the mystical practices of yoga. Do you understand this?"
Raxri blinked and nodded. "I see. So there are yet more cultivation techniques I am not privy to."
"You have a long path before you, if you wish to cultivate the mystic path," replied Myu Fan. "I hope I was able to be of some help, somehow."
Raxri nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, you were! Thank you so much, Doctor Myu Fan. Not just the healing, but you''ve given me great knowledge. No doubt we all would be dead without you."
Myu Fan''s smile became lazy as comfort overtook her. "That''s nice to hear. So nice to hear."
Before long, they were completely rejuvenated, and they were back in the guestroom wearing their usual clothing. Doctor Myu Fan in her cheongsam, Raxri Uttara in their borrowed monk robes. The smell of incense here seemed stronger, somehow.
"The karma cleansing ritual will be beginning soon. Let us see the Abbot."
They made their way to the meditation house, where the monks all sat upon their silk cushions. When the Abbot saw them enter, he gestured for them to sit where they were most comfortable.
Raxri and the Doctor Myu Fan performed their prostrations to the Termagant Buddha, and then they both decided they were most comfortable sitting nearest the exit.
When the Abbot had seen that they were settled, he nodded. Yiwaritala saw this signal and struck the nearby gong--beautiful and bronze, engraved with dragons and elephant gods. The gong resonated across the entirety of the silent monastery. Then, the Abbot began the incantation.
In front of where Raxri sat was a palm leaf manuscript. They reached for it and flipped it open, and it revealed the mantra they were currently chanting, written in a more modern script that they could read. Raxri chanted along. It was a beautiful mantra, quick and smooth and straight that spoke of beseeching the great Scarlet God Buddha to expunge and annihilate all obstacles and negative karma from their beings, so that they can continue to do what they needed to do. They beseech a few more other Buddha to help them achieve wisdom, to help them cultivate compassion, to help them find serenity, to help them destroy the enemies of the Law.
As they chanted, the Abbot struck a little bell that decided the tempo of their chanting. Raxri also noticed that the monks had their hands folded together, palms touching. And so they took that same stance. They saw that Doctor Myu Fan also sat in that same position.
The chanting was continuous and without end. The beseeching became a statement about the power of the Scarlet God Buddha. How he had been the great destroyer of the King of Gods, the Annihilator of Devils, the exterminator of the enemies of the Law that sought to destroy the Law. The enemy of tempters, the hater of vile deeds, the forceful transformer of vices and evil into virtues and good. Raxri noticed that all of the Scarlet God Buddha''s violent actions were directed at those that would deface the law. And more importantly, most of the mantra spoke of the Scarlet God Buddha''s violence being used to transform rather than to destroy. Destruction instead became a means, not the end.
Destroying evil transformed a devil into a god.
As they chanted, Raxri felt their mind sink into serenity. Being yoked, as it were. And as they chanted, Raxri also felt the blazing fires of their Sapi Furnace strengthened and made larger, stoked and fed. This very ritual not only cleansed negative karma, but also cultivated huge amounts of Sapi and Merit.
The incantation culminated in a powerful chant that spoke of the Scarlet God Buddha''s ultimate act: the expunging of negative karma to create means for cultivating one''s self in the Law, to eventually come upon the realization of the Emptiness Doctrine.
When they finished that portion of the prayer, they repeated the mantra: AHOM AH HOMA MAHA BADRA LADYA Rutra HOMA HOMA HIWA HIWA. Raxri followed as the monks and the Abbot chanted this quietly, almost muttering it, in rapid succession, again and again, for 108 times.
At the 108th chant, the Abbot nodded and began ringing a bell. They sounded a conch shell trumpet, and Yiwaritala struck the gong forcefully 7 times. At the end of it, the Abbot picked up handfuls of rock salt and scattered it among the assembly. He threw it with such force that some of it even struck Raxri on the head, and they felt not irked but rather, as if their serenity was reinforced.
The silence that followed afterwards was the realm in which the reverberations of the gong and the trumpet and the bell resonated. It allowed Raxri''s awareness to expand, to encompass heaven and hell. As the sound echoed, and then subsequently, faded, disappearing into the night, they meditated. There, Raxri concentrated upon emptiness: the illusion of divergence, the ultimate nature of reality in where the subject, object, and action are all one existence.
Then, slowly, they opened their eyes as the Abbot rose to his feet and dismissed the monks. He, Yiwaritala, and Pilinitala walked over to Raxri and Doctor Myu Fan.
"I pray your fatigue and wounds have healed?" asked the Abbot, smiling serenely. Raxri and Doctor Myu Fan bowed, hands folded in front of them in mouth reverence.
"Yes, full well," replied Raxri. "I am well enough to travel again."
"Good," said the Abbot, nodding. "The Doctor is the best of her kind."
Myu Fan shrugged. "And yet here I am, kicked out of the Healer''s University."
The Abbot laughed. Then, a moment of silence. Raxri felt sad, suddenly. They said: "I will not keep you for too long. You have been of greatest help, especially during these times of violence, Doctor Myu Fan. Your riding-lizard has been fed and well-stocked. We''ve granted you a few relics as well to help you on your journey."
Doctor Myu Fan bowed in gratitude. "This one thanks you. I hope there will not be any more violence in the coming future!"
The Abbot smiled. "We will train even better for that to be true."
"When you next come here," said Yiwaritala. "Please, consider teaching some of our monks and nuns. That we may be able to perform healing beyond the basic medicinework."
Doctor Myu Fan leaned back and tapped her chin. "I will ruminate upon it."
Smiling, the Abbot said: "Raxri Uttara. Your work and contribution to this monastery is incalculable. Thank you for fighting in our name. And you have been an exceptional student. Perhaps, in the future, when things align better and you crave for more, I can continue your training. I have yet more to teach you in the ways of the Adamantine Sword."
Raxri smiled and bowed. "Thank you, Abbot Wairojashra. My time here has been so significant. I will not forget you."
"Ah, the tattooist Ampun Sagara seeks you, in his cottage," said Yiwaritala. "He wishes to grant you a parting gift. Shall we? It should not take long. You and the Doctor must leave soon, after all."
"Right. Okay." Raxri rose and followed Yiwaritala.
Before they got too far, the Abbot called out: "Once you are done with the tattooist, find me in the Meditation House. I must teach you to consolidate your Sapi."
Raxri nodded, bowing with heart reverence. Pilinitala walked after Raxri and Yiwaritala as they left for the tattooist''s glade.
As they walked, Yiwaritala smiled and said: "I must thank you. I was dubious at first, but you have proven yourself to me. While I may not be in good terms with the witch Akazha, I can recognize you as a successful student and a testament to Akazha''s skill as a teacher."
"Wow," Pilinitala interjected. "Yiwaritala admitting he was wrong? How absurd!"
"I said no such thing!" said Yiwaritala, stammering. "All I said was simply that... Akazha might have some skill as a teacher. It matters not. All of Raxri''s skill might just be inborn talent or from their past skill."
Raxri smiled and laughed with them. "I will miss you, all of you."
"Be sure to return when the light guides you to," said Pilinitala, smiling. [1.39] Gods Axe Cleaves The World
The Revolution has succeeded. NOW WHAT WILL YOU FORGE WITH THE RUINS? Every peasant a king? Attain royalty? Consummate divinity? Commit genocide? Sell out to bring back the Old International Order? Crucify yourself upon the crucible of Community Law? Tear yourself raw to establish Popular Dictatorship? Utter the mantras of Self-Liberation? Kill yourself again and again for the Awakening of the Masses? Perform mandalas to bind them all together. REMEMBER: TRUE EGO DEATH COMES AFTER THE CONSUMMATION OF EGO. SHATTER THE I-YOU-ACTION ONTOLOGY. With your WILL: TOPPLE EARTH¡¯S TITANIC SPIRES. BREAK THE SKY¡¯S VAUNTED PILLARS. GOUGE OUT THE EYES OF GOD. DRINK THE SEMEN OF THE STARS. MASTER THE FORBIDDEN MANTRAS. REACH HEAVEN THROUGH ALCOHOLISM. YOKE YOUR MIND THROUGH MEDITATION AND PSYCHEDELICS. FUCK YOUR WAY TO ENLIGHTENMENT. SLAUGHTER GODS LIKE CATTLE. Dattreya Wairini''s Call To Action: A Treatise On Violence
Within the tattooist''s cottage, Ampun Sagara made Raxri sit down, after they had performed their prostrations to the Buddhas altar. "This is my parting gift." Raxri noticed that Ampun Sagara was more or less covered all over in white bandages, and bruises. Gifts from the fight that they had had to endure.
"You will be tattooing me?"
"A small one. We do not have time for a large one."
"Very well."
Ampun Sagara set to work inscribing the word BADRA RAYA upon Raxri''s pointer finger. This one hurt, just a bit. Like little knives stabbing Raxri''s finger. Obviously. The blade of the poker strikes my very bones. My very skeleton is scoured and struck with the strength of Ampun Sagara''s tattooing power.
The script was not in one that Raxri could read, but Ampun Sagara told them what it said. Is this more Elder Karitan script?
Raxri meditated upon the pain, being mindful of how the blade punctured deep into their skin. How it cut through veins.
It was over just as it started, just like Ampun Sagara promised. "There. A sign of might and power."
"What does it do?" Raxri raised their finger. Then they noticed that it wasn''t just one finger: both hands, the pointer, middle, and ring finger had been inscribed with the writing, ink carved around the section of the finger right after their metacarpals. Beautiful circular script carved around their fingers.
"Strengthens your hands," said Ampun Sagara. "So that your blades are always edge-aligned, as long as your Sapi and Skill permits it. I would have wanted to engrave the tattoos for lowering the chances of limb-decapitation, and decapitation in general, but those require long rituals and powerful wills."
Raxri smiled and bowed, reverently. They were thankful nonetheless. "Thank you, Ampun Sagara. I will return here to continue the latticework upon my skin."
Ampun Sagara smiled. "You''d better. Else, I will seek you out. Worry not."
"I will cultivate my strength so that you will see me in the future!"
Ampun Sagara nodded, approvingly. "You did great, out in the battlefield. Against the demons. No doubt now you have more questions than when you began. I can only pray that the Buddhas guide you, and that your inherent enlightenment cut through all delusion like the sharpest blade that it is."
Raxri performed the mouth reverence. "I take that blessing with great compassion and gratefulness."
Ampun Sagara placed their hands on Raxri''s shoulders. "Take thee care. Always."
The Abbot Wairojashra waited for Raxri outside of the tattoo artist''s cottage. With a nod, they walked ahead, deeper into the wood this time. Inhaling, Raxri followed.
They walked in silence. It felt like a procession. The path a hallway to a hallowed temple. The tree''s boughs forming a canopy for the pure light of the perfection of wisdom to pierce through. The silence was unnerving: even the gods watched with bated breath.
Eventually they arrived upon a cliff, overlooking not Pemi Island, but the Southern Seas. Looking far enough, Raxri could see the multiple islands that no doubt was the rest of the End of the World.
At the edge of the cliff was a still pond of pure clear light. Bamboos rose from it, lotus and lily pads did as well. There was a small tiger that walked across one of the gigantic lily pads.
Abbot Wairojashra flexed his Sapi and concentrated. He walked upon the pond''s still waters and sat weightlessly upon one of the lily pads. Raxri followed suit, sitting behind him, using their Light Body Technique to do so.
They sat in the lotus position, both feet placed upon their thighs, facing upwards. Raxri did not have the same limberness as the Abbot, so they had to pull their feet into place with their hands. I will do all things with these hands.
"I believe the witch Akazha has taught you how to meditate?"
Raxri said: "Yes."
"Good. Now let us meditate. Sink into that state of concentration."
Raxri did so, focusing on his breathing, on the blackness. Their eyes closed. At first their eyebrows furrowed, but as they sank deeper into concentration upon nothingness, their features calmed and loosened. Before long, they were in that state again of pure-light. Near no thought, save for the few strays. They bobbed in and out of it.
Then the Abbot said: "Now focus on the burning pit of your Sapi Furnace. This is the Inner Power, the Hidden Strength within all sentient beings."
Raxri did so, focusing on the burgeoning, bright fire that they could see in their Mind''s Eye. Within the pit of their body, with a thousand thousand strands of power and flowing flurrious winds flowing to every part of their body. The fire was the color of bright indigo... almost violet. The mixture of scarlet and azure.
"Now, condense it. Smother it. Force it to transform into your liver. Breathe and awaken!"
Raxri did so. They concentrated on the fires and it flailed about, as if trying to escape Raxri''s mental power. The veins on Raxri''s head popped out. They did their whole best to stay as relaxed as possible during the process, as becoming too stressed can knock one out of Pure Concentration. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
It helped when Raxri visualized a deity with six hands and a single scowling face, skin the color of deep ocean, hair the color of scarlet fire, eyes the color of azure. Who was this? They felt familiar... This wrathful deity seized the fire with six hands and began pressing it together, condensing it, solidifying it...
...until it was a beautiful shining pearl that infused itself with their liver.
When the deity''s wrathful face turned to Raxri, they pulled themselves out of their Pure Concentration.
More accurately, the Abbot pulled them out, by placing a hand upon their forehead.
Raxri''s eyes snapped open. They were back where they were, upon that lily pad, ripped away from the infinite void of concentration. Their body felt lighter, quicker.
The Abbot watched their eyes for a moment, and then said: "You''ve condensed your Sapi, now. You are more powerful, in ways you yourself might not even know. The more you condense your Sapi, the greater you get to arise in Cultivation. You''ve ascended past the Accumulation Stage and step upon the Emergence Stage now, thanks to your defeat of Silver Wind Witch Dog. You ascend quickly, but that is normal: the first Stage is the easiest to ascend."
Raxri nodded. "Thank you, Abbot. I can feel it. My Sapi, more significant. Filled with strength and power, coursing through my body through my Nihawa." Raxri bowed to the Abbot in reverence. Then, they said; "During my concentration... I saw a deity. Wrathful, fierce of form. With hair of fire, skin of deep ocean, with six arms..."
"That might be Daklaon. The Inevitable God of Time and Violence, manifestation of the Primordial Buddha Airotsana."
Raxri''s heart beat faster. "What does this mean?"
"It means Raxri Uttara of the Past was deeply immersed into Deity Yoga," said the Abbot. "It would be best if you would re-attain that as well."
"Will the Abbot not teach me?"
They shook their head. "I have no Empowerment of Hri Daklaon. That one is an esoteric, Unsurpassed Yoga only the Atmost Wizards can attain and teach. Or as we call the term in Elder Karitan: Anuttara Mahasiddha. Revered Mystics. You would do well to travel and find one. Our time together passes, frays, unravels. It is temporary, as with all things. Remember this, Raxri Uttara. All things are empty. Even your teacher shall pass, even your master shall pass, even God shall pass."
Raxri nodded in enlightenment.
Before they left, the Abbot taught Raxri a few mantras to utter whenever they needed it. They passed them a palm leaf booklet of these mantras, telling them to utter it as they needed its benefits. Raxri prostrated three times to the Abbot out of reverence, imagining and visualizing the Abbot as a buddha.
Then, the two of them returned to the Monastery. As they walked, Raxri began memorizing some of the mantras silently.
Before long, Raxri had returned to the monastery. Doctor Myu Fan was riding upon a giant monitor lizard, complete with a saddle and harness. Sungai was beside the monitor lizard, seemingly wary of the supposed predator. Raxri walked up to Sungai and stroked their mane. "You definitely had a more relaxed time here more than I did," they said, patting Sungai''s larger belly.
The little monk, Sugunitala, was it? He appeared again, patting Sungai. "Sungai was the nicest, but he sure was hungry. He loved squash, of all foods."
"Squash, huh? I''ll be sure to tell Akazha." Sungai neighed, seemingly happily. Raxri turned to Sugunitala. "Thank you, Sugunitala, for watching over Sungai these moons."
"I do all my duties with utmost diligence and concentration. It is my meditation." Sugunitala bowed, performing mouth reverence, and Raxri returned the gesture.
Pilinitala hugged Raxri from behind. "Do not worry, Pilinitala. I will visit."
"You better! And oh, the baskets in Sungai''s saddle are filled with foods I''ve prepared, okay? Rice cakes, fried tofu, fried spinach in soy sauce... be sure to eat them all, all right?"
Raxri smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Pilinitala. I will do just that."
Satisfied, Pilinitala walked back to where the rest of them were arrayed. The Abbot, Yiwaritala, Ampun Sagara, Sugunitala. They waved in farewell.
Raxri mounted Sungai. They turned to the Doctor, who was smoking a pipe. She smiled at Raxri and nodded. "Shall we?"
The two of them rode their mounts down the mountain path. The birds chirped, the sun dappled their skin lightly and was nice and kind for a change. Raxri and Doctor Myu Fan did nothing else but to bask in the tranquility that followed the absolute hell that they had just gone through.
As they galloped down the narrow mountain path, winding down the great Mount Jura, Raxri marveled at Doctor Myu Fan''s mount. "It is every fascinating that you have a mount that is in essence a monitor lizard."
Doctor Myu Fan smiled and shrugged. "Her name is Kasasa. And in truth she is not exactly a monitor lizard, though its easy to mistake her for one! Nay, this one is a juvenile land dragon. Squat low, with legs on both ends. Of the same family as crocodiles and monitor lizards, in truth." Kasasa''s tongue flickered in and out.
"I see. I am enlightened." Raxri continued to marvel at the monitor lizard until another question popped into their head. "Ah, doctor, if I may intrude and ask a bit on your practices?"
"Hm?" Myu Fan raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"That healing ritual... seeing as you are a woman doctor, would a man doctor be able to do the same kind of healing ritual?"
Myu Fan smiled, shrugged. "That is a hot topic even amongst us, I must have you know. In general, a vajra-bearing doctor that does not know the proper healing continuums can end up stealing cultivation from their subjects, while lotus-bearing doctors will have that come up much less, as the lotus inherently nourishes and gives. In general, the answer is yes. However, the problem with it is that many men doctor use it to abuse their patients. An awful, cruel abuse of power."
Raxri became silent for a moment. "Cruelty abounds yet."
"It abounds ever more, now," said Doctor Myu Fan. "At the end of the world, at the cessation of the universe... everyone scrambles for power in a bid to survive the end of the violent wheel." Doctor Myu Fan looked wistfully to the rising sun. "This only means that we must make good even more."
"A tiring endeavor..." Raxri uttered, not entirely meaning to.
And yet, Doctor Myu Fan nodded. "But one we must do." Myu Fan smiled as she turned to Raxri. "Set your heart ablaze, Raxri Uttara. The world moves ever on without you. Your duty is not done yet. Remember the adage: no mud, no lotus."
"So the world to become better it must first be worse?"
Doctor Myu Fan shook her head. "Hope blossoms even in the end of all things. You do remember the eternal axiom, yes? No Mud No Lotus?"
"Right. No mud... no lotus." Raxri''s eyes wandered to the sky as they thought.
"Yes. That means beautiful enlightenment comes from even the darkest and dirtiest of earth-muds. It is the wisdom of the saviors." Immediately after she said that, Raxri felt themselves thrown off of Sungai. When they looked up, they realized that it was Doctor Myu Fan herself who had leapt and pushed Raxri down into the earth of the path.
Raxri realized that they were at the base of the mountain now, by the forests.
Raxri realized that diminutive, goblinoid creatures now danced around them in a perfect circle, as if they and Doctor Myu Fan were offerings to an infernal ritual. "What are--"
"Gunggong," said Doctor Myu Fan. "More monsters."
Monsters? Even more? After we''d cleansed the Jura Mountain of the demon infestation? Raxri rose to their feet and unsheathed their blade. Puksa, still. Their handle felt like home. Doctor Myu Fan pulled out the handgun strapped to her thigh, held there by a pure gold band.
Sungai and Myu Fan''s earth dragon mount cuddled close to each other, while Myu Fan and Raxri bordered them. Raxri took a good look at them now: their skin resembled that of boars. They had no tusks, but giant black pools for eyes, and long fangs that belonged to ghouls. They wore interesting tunics made of abaca fiber, no doubt effective in catching sword slashes, and almost every single one wore a headwrap in the same manner as raiders. They similarly wielded the same weapons that bandits would wield: longknives, bows, rattan shields, and crude spears made of bamboo with fire-hardened tips. They danced around them, striking in and out.
"What are these things?" asked Raxri. Doctor Myu Fan bore no hesitation in her mindstream: she chanted a magick spell and her handgun exploded in a burst of flame, resembling the explosive breath of a water dragon. The flames engulfed a good chunk of the surrounding gunggong force; they broke their formation.
"Strike, Raxri. These are living weapons of the Invincible Blade Princess." [1.40] Cut In Twain, Sewn Again
Revolution. The direction of enlightenment. The specter of freedom and chain-breaking. Possessed of no gods¨Cin truth, you revolt even against the gods¨Cyou forge your own path. What is Revolution? Walk the Royal Road. Treatise On True Enlightenment by Dattreya Wairini the Twice-Buddha
Raxri followed the command. Hesitation was defeat, after all.
They unsheathed Puksa--which quivered in excitement--and then struck, slashing and thrusting and making quick work of the gunggong on their side.
When Raxri impaled one gunggong, that monster''s body would suddenly cramp up and contort into strange shapes. A chill ran down Raxri''s spine when they realized what it reminded them of: it was much like when a spider would die, and their body would naturally fold in and of itself as the blood used to move their carapace left their body. Is it the same thing here? What charnel sorcery powers these marionettes?
Raxri''s movements were perfect parries and deflections that flowed into bisections and decapitations. When a gunggong would leap too close to Sungai, Raxri would leap into the intervening space and cut down that gunggong, their blade piercing and impaling the open sections of their armors.
As they engaged in this intricate dance of violence, the demon gunggong would bark out nonsensical words. Raxri wondered what language they spoke--it definitely was not a language they could understand, and it did not sound like any of the languages Raxri had heard during their time in the island of Pemi. Was this some sort of creole or fabricated tongue created only for the Invincible Blade Princess'' armies?
A gunggong fired a crossbow bolt at Myu Fan''s earth dragon mount Kasasa. Cursing, Raxri dove in between the earth dragon and performed Heavenly Lightning Deflection. Blood burst from Raxri''s hand as the crossbow bolt''s trajectory was shattered, and it struck the ground uselessly instead. Raxri was resolute, however: it was imperative that Kasasa and Sungai were kept safe.
Seeing red, the remaining gunggong took this opportunity to strike. Spears and longknives and daggers in a frenzy of strikes. Raxri deflected as much as they could, but strikes and bites and slashes bit their way into Raxri''s skin.
Using Adamant Lightning Strikes, Raxri wefted through them like a river cut through a mountain: sure and steady.
Raxri left behind halo of blood.
They similarly sustained a number of wounds that no doubt would scar, and a few punctures that no doubt would take time to heal. Though it stung, they bore no worry: they had a doctor there, after all. As Raxri winced, examining their wounds, they realized how the wounds did not feel as painful as before. The sting of a wound, the heat of a slash... they felt muted, dulled, as if the concept of pain itself had diminished. Or perhaps Raxri had gotten too used to being struck and wounded?
"Raxri, are you okay?" Raxri turned to see Doctor Myu Fan dragging on her pipe. She tossed three pistols into the bushes. The doctor had sustained no wounds, though the dark circles under her eyes seemed larger and deeper now. "You''re wounded."
"The consequence of swordplay," Raxri said, shrugging. "But I am not defeated, and the pain is dulled yet."
"Attacks by those of lower Cultivation than you tend to feel more miniscule. That is the nature of cultivation. However, if you are not properly healed, those wounds will infect anyway and kill you." Sighing, the doctor walked over to one of her saddle bags and pulled out a few more ointments. She walked over and dabbed them upon Raxri''s wounds, each one soliciting a jolt of pain from Raxri. They winced at every touch.
"There. Done. You ought to practice on your defense, Raxri Uttara."
"I must get used to being struck, I would think, doctor." How can I protect others when I cannot weather the blows of heaven?
Doctor Myu Fan rolled her eyes. "Oh, there you go again. For what reason? So you can stand between the enemy and your friend? Take the strikes for them? ''It is better that I am hurt than they'' is that what you''re thinking? It is not well and good for a person such as you to be thinking along these lines. You should not be giving your life up for others. It is a gift to be still alive in this world, you know? In the World Belligerent."
Raxri smiled sheepishly, avoiding Myu Fan''s gaze. They wanted to show that that was exactly what Raxri was trying to say, but they knew that Doctor Myu Fan would not like that exact answer.
An exasperated breath. She said: "You must learn some defensive Skills. Perhaps learn sorceries that strengthen your body, or learn a skin-strengthening martial art such as Carabao-Body Style or Crocodile Swallows The Mountain. I cannot teach it to you, but you must endeavor to attain those techniques with utmost haste."
Raxri made a mental note and nodded. First things first. Defensive techniques that strengthen my body. "This is noted, doctor. Thank you. And thank you for being my constant healer. I think I would be long gone if it were not for you."
"You are correct," said Myu Fan, and she pinched Raxri''s side. A surprised yelp from Raxri. "So when I am gone, you must learn how to protect yourself. Or perhaps, even, to heal yourself. But, one thing at a time." She sighed, looking at the sky. The way she moved really did feel like she was some sort of elder sister to Raxri. "Come, we chase the sun."
They traveled a few more dragons down the mountain until the path was mostly level, and the forest had become dense around them. The cool fresh winds of the morning gave way to the sticky humidity of almost zenith, but the canopy of the jungle allowed them reprieve from the scathing heat of the sun. Sungai and Kasasa thrived here: especially Kasasa, whose blood was cold, and required the temperatures one would find in the jungle to regulate their body.
As they galloped through the narrow path, Raxri asked: "Doctor. What did you mean when you said that those gunggong were living weapons of the Invincible Blade Princess?"
Doctor Myu Fan blew out a long stream of smoke from her nostrils, like a dragon. "Though the Invincible Blade Princess was defeated decades ago, her actions wounded the very world. No doubt the Abbot has already told you: her conquest was the beginning of the end, and she has plunged us deep into the Latter Day of the Law. She did not do this alone: despite her great personal strength, she was also a master wizard, an immortal in all but name. Through her Blasted Alchemies and Sorceries she wove together great magickal armies that were perversions of the gods and the antigods. These were her Eternal Horde.
"Those things we fought, gunggong, are worse than monsters, in truth. Monsters often have a reason for living other than destruction. Demons can be redeemed, given consciousness. These warriors, however, are mockeries of nature. The gunggong are the infantry of the Eternal Horde, the foot soldiers and the fodder. When the Invincible Blade Princess died, they were left in this world, and now they rove the Utter Islands following the Blade Imperative. That is to say: all sentient beings must be slain."
"They are weapons in truth," said Raxri, pondering about it. "This one wonders why the Invincible Blade Princess was moved to such action. Instigated so much violence and war. Plunged this beautiful world into the throes of calamitous strife."
Myu Fan only sighed and dragged on her pipe. She did not say anything else.
"Our path bisects here, Raxri Uttara," said Doctor Myu Fan as they came upon a split in the road. Part of the road cut westways from the mountain, while the path Raxri had come up on was straight northways. "We must part."
Raxri felt a pang of sadness. Just a smidge. No doubt all their time together has caused Raxri to become somewhat attached to the doctor. They performed the mouth reverence to Doctor Myu Fan. "I can do nothing but praise the Doctor and be ever thankful for all the work that she has done."
Myu Fan smiled and shook her head. "It is my duty. Following that duty, a duty that saves sentient beings... that is of utmost importance to me. I would not be doing anything else." She tossed another gourd of medicinal waters to Raxri''s direction. Raxri caught it with ease. "You must take care, all right? We must meet yet still. And hopefully by then, you''re not a suicidal maniac attempting to put yourself in between the blade and your love."
Raxri managed a cheeky smile, though they still winced, as their wounds protested against Raxri''s sudden movements. "I-I will--ouch--I will, Doctor. Please, be safe and true. May the Buddhas guide your path, may the innumerable gods keep you safe. I will miss you."
"We will see each other yet. May the gods keep us safe until then," replied Myu Fan, managing another half-lidded, nostalgic smile, before turning and continuing down her path. She disappeared shortly into the dense woods of the path, and Raxri found themselves alone once again.
Raxri sighed, and then leaned down to pat Sungai. Silently, they urged the horse forward, and they trotted down their own path. A slight path, barely trodden, barely traveled. This was dangerous territory. One cannot wander into here, one needed to travel here purposefully and with a goal. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Raxri was happy. Yet, fatigue certainly did grip them. They wanted to go home and sleep for a few days. Despite this, the new techniques that they had learned from the Abbot danced upon the electricity of their skin. They were itching to pick up their sword again to fight.
The sun was at zenith, now. Noon time. Lunch time. I''m hungry. A little bit past that. Even with the thick canopy of the montane forest, streamers of the sun''s blasted rays struck the jungle floor, threatening to burn Raxri with every gleam. Thankfully, they were few and far between, and even those that did hit Raxri were benign rays, only slightly burning. The winds were cold, perfectly humid, as if standing beside a river. They preferred this humid cold than the dry cold of the higher mountains. They preferred it when their lips would not cut and their skin would not break against the dryness of the world. They preferred it when sweat would glisten their skin as they traveled, keeping them slightly cooled. In the Utter Islands, water was not a scarcity, but an abundance.
Looking around, Raxri realized that the majority of resources here in the Utter Islands were in abundance and not scarcity. This truly is the world of spirits, and we are simply tenants living alongside them.
Raxri could feel the watchful eyes of those that lived inside the trees, those that took on the form of insects and gliding lizards and geckos and slithering pythons. They could feel the gaze of those that were the lines or the shadows within the hallowed boughs within trees, the little gods and the spirits of the woods.
The world is so beautiful after its destruction. How could the Invincible Blade Princess and the Merchant Empires destroy it?
Raxri was afraid they knew the answer to the question. But they did not heed it. Not yet.
Let me sing for a moment of the truth of the spirits. As Raxri traveled across the wood, they would see things that seem to resemble the faces of people and humans. Some doctors and sages might call this a psionic justification of our mindstream, imposing ourselves onto the world. We see faces where there are no faces to be seen.
However, some of those faces truly are the faces of the gods. Sleeping, watching, sometimes judging even. The vast majority of them are not malevolent: malevolence is a quality we impose upon them. It is not a malevolence if a hurricane would annihilate an ant: that is simply the way of the world. In the same vein, we are the ants to the hurricane that is the gods and the spirits that inhabit, and in truth, make up the totality of not just the Utter Islands, but the entirety of the Hingsajagra. Idealist Mind-First philosophies have largely been forgotten for psycho-physical constructions of reality. The interplay between consciousness and the material.
Many believe that the reason why we humans do not see the gods as much as we do is because they have materialization magics. This is not entirely wrong, but it is important to also realize that many gods innately have the capacity for transformation. It is part of their privileges as being gods and spirits. Many gods and spirits take on the shapes of winds, of fires, of trees, of leaves, of plants, of tigers, of holy lions, of crocodiles, of dragons. It is exceedingly rare for them to apparate as humanoid: to them humans are a baser realm, lower on the Six Paths of Wandering. Why would they want to return to it?
Of course, the schools of thought such as the Jinadharma, Anantadharma, Anarchism, Communism, Libertinism, and Pureflame Dogma, believe that the human may be the middle of the road for living in Hingsajagra, but these humans are also the most susceptible to Emancipation. Or otherwise Unity with the Absolute Reality. Humans, not being swallowed by pride or power as gods are, or not subsumed by suffering and pain like the hell-beings and ghosts are, are in the prime position to cultivate enlightenment and spiritual transcension.
As Raxri rode Sungai down the path, they realized then that the gods watched without eyes--why would they need eyes? Only humans need eyes. Bats see with sound, other animals follow scents rather than sight. The gods experienced them as they experienced the world. All of this in reification of the truth: humans are simply living within this world of spirits. That is the first foundational principle of Hingsajagra. It is beautiful, in a way, of course. But it is important to realize that that beauty, as with all things in Hingsajagra, are fleeting and will fade away, and are nothing to the impenetrable beauty and radiance of eventual Extinction.
Raxri spurred Sungai into a faster gallop when the roads leveld out and became wider. Sungai, now confident, burst forward in speed. He was moving and galloping faster than a few moons ago. Raxri did notice that Sungai had gotten faster. Perhaps that monk that took care of Sungai truly did know how to nourish Sungai.
Raxri watched as Sungai''s gallops cut through a stream, sending water about everywhere. Beautiful birds of bright indigo plumage and crimson beaks flew across them from left to right--a good omen, they remember. If it wer ethe other way around, that would''ve been a horrible, horrible omen, and anyone that would''ve seen that would turn back around and travel another day. In this world of spirits, it is omens that give us humans the capability of surviving. Omens tell lesser beings to be careful, that the gods and the fates and the destinies are not going to be good for that day. This is why diviners and seers and shamans are so popular. Everything is a percentage chance of happening, and these percentages can be ascertained with the proper rituals. This is where geomancy, astromancy, necromancy, and more come from. Those ways of seeing through different rituals.
Through their travel, Raxri saw the great Godtree, now to their left, canopying the sky as well, sending down rays of silverine light even in the middle of the day. Long, slender, serpentine dragons danced around their giant boughs, so large that they no doubt could contain cities in and of themselves.
Eventually, they passed a familiar boulder for a moment. Raxri uttered a small breath of prayer and appreciation and dedication to Vibujja, who they knew followed them about now in some form or another. As Sungai galloped, Raxri looked up. It was difficult to make out which cloud Vibujja was, straining against the thick canopy of the jungle. The mouth of Nunuk Vale.
It must have rained because eventually, Sungai and Raxri had to stop in front of a great river. "Whoa. Was this not just a small ford when we first passed here, Sungai?"
Sungai neighed in confirmation. It was a large and wide ford, yes, but it was a ford nonetheless. It was such a shallow ford that Raxri barely even noticed that it was a ford! But after three months during the monsoon season, the river had built up again. Crocodiles glided across it, and freshwater fish and catfish rested deep within. No bridge had been built here. No doubt because during the dry moons, it would be a ford.
Raxri crossed their arms and said: "I''ve forgotten that we''re in the middle of monsoon season. Though the clouds be thick and strong, the rays of the sun are strong yet."
Sungai neighed again in agreement.
Raxri, nodding, dismounted from Sungai and led him to the riverside so that he could drink some water. It was Sungai that chose where he was going to drink. Just as well: no doubt Sungai could see the lurking crocodiles and pythons and dragons that waited for food.
As Sungai lapped up the river-water, Raxri washed parts of their skin again, removing the dirt accumulated from sweaty traveling. The water here was adequately clean, thanks to it being a rapidly rushing river. And since there was no rain just yet that time of day, there was no impurity mixed with the water.
When Sungai had finished, the two of them walked over to the giant roots of a nearby tree and rested upon it. Dawn approached now. Travel in the middle of the night would be no doubt dangerous. Even worse, they did not know how to cross the river!
Raxri looked out at the rushing river. It was too wide and too deep to swim across, no doubt about that. Besides, the dangerous creatures that floated within those very waters would rip them apart at the very chance. What choice did they have?
Raxri leaned on the root, contemplating what they could do. At intervals of their meditation they would look up at the clouds to see if Vibujja would offer any help, to no avail. Vibujja was not arriving. Was Vibujja only there if there was a fight? Or perhaps... Vibujja would have to attend to other matters why they were there so they wouldn''t be able to meet them constantly. I should have asked about the terms of when Vibujja would come up, Raxri thought. Perhaps I''ll be able to do that when I''m with Akazha. Oh, Vibujja should meet Akazha.
As Raxri swam across the sea that was their thoughts, they saw Sungai walk out and gesture with his snout to the direction of the Sun''s Drowning. In the direction against the river''s flow, otherwise upriver.
"What is it, Sungai?" Raxri walked over to Sungai but saw nothing but trees and grass, though they noticed that there was a walkable path that followed up the river. "Ah... you want us to travel upriver? Huh. You might be on to something. Perhaps there is a bridge there, upriver. Or maybe even a town."
Sungai nodded. "All right," said Raxri. "Let''s do just that. Come on. We can take refuge there as well, should night fall."
They traveled then upriver for a few more hours. The river rushed against them. The spray of the water was cold, cooling the area around them. Raxri liked traveling nearby rivers: it was always cold and properly moist while they were around them. Though the jungle canopy was somewhat sparser here in the river, the waters cooled down the blasting rays of the sun. Though as they traveled, the sun sank lower and lower, so the sun''s rays did not scathe them as they normally would.
Insects jumped to and fro: giant grasshoppers the size of Raxri''s hand. Sungai had to jump over a python that they thought was a fallen log, due to the almost straight lined pattern of the python''s scales. They had to maneuver around a resting crocodile, so flat against the muddy banks of the river, as it basked in the last few moments of sunglow.
A few macaques swung overhead, chittering and chattering. One of them landed behind Raxri and leaned there for a bit, eating a little fruit. When he was done, he threw the seeds of the pomelo to the river, and then tried to steal Raxri''s sword. Raxri swatted away his hands and commanded him to shoo.
Mock-laughing, the monkey leapt up and caught a stray vine as Sungai galloped past it. The majority of the monkeys that were playing around with Raxri and Sungai immediately disappeared into the darkness of the jungle when they heard the cry of a golden eagle flying overhead.
Through this all, the river rushed beside them. A few black and white herons flew beside them, though in the direction of the river''s flow, no doubt heading towards the swamps and fens where they would be able to find sleep and food.
Raxri also couldn''t help but notice that so much of the green here was interspersed with multicolor. Giant purple flowers, magenta vines, orchid the color of bioluminsecnt aquamarine. Trees with iridescent bark, giant shrubs with scarlet flowers. Trees with beautiful golden flowers, though these flowers were falling in bunches to the ground, like golden rain. No doubt they flowered during the sun''s season and then began falling and wilting during the monsoon season.
This cacophony of nature was beautiful, basking and living alongside the primordial. And Raxri knew many of these were the very gods and spirits that watched and lived here. That one fallen golden petal could''ve been a god, the giant eagle whose wings created a canopy of its own was no doubt a god, even the monkeys that played with them might have been spirits and gods! It was impossible to know who was a god and who was not a god, but perhaps that dichotomy is a dichotomy we ourselves have imposed, owing to our broken and incomplete understanding of the world.
When the Sun had fully drowned beneath the waves of the horizon, and the fireflies became the only guiding light for Raxri and Sungai, they saw a distant stone lantern, tall, emanating with a bright light, shielded from the cold winds of gloam.
A second wind of relief ran through Raxri. They were getting tired and had begun to think of ways to light up bonfires without burning the surrounding trees and shrubbery. "Sungai, look. Light!" [1.41] - Presently, Through Darkness
The Nunuk League is a fiercely spiritualist society that follows their Shaman-Kings and Queens, as it is through them that protection is guaranteed. The End of the World, the region where Pemi is, is one of the most dangerous, filled with the most violent and most savage of spirits that care the least about humanity. Having a strong spiritual guardian is required to survive in Pemi, and so the Nunuk League is centered around the Spiritual Leader. These Spiritual Leaders are however, immersed and chosen from the masses, and so the geist of compassion for the people lives among them. Spiritual Leaders are chosen by a council of guardian spirits and elderly wizened humans who inherit the Wisdom of the Ancients. Shennin Daily News, 23rd day of the Dragon Moon, Earth Season, Air Dog Year of the 11665th Cycle
Sungai kept quiet, still with that familiar disdain on his face. They walked toward the stone lantern. This eventually grew into a crowd of stone lanterns, revealing a village from the darkness of twilight. Underneath the indigo sky were houses built on thick hardwood, rectangular stilts, with giant window-doors and high roofs that allowed cold wind to circulate and removed the lighter hot winds. Those peaked roofs were decorated with dragons and saints.
The houses were built haphazardly upon uneven terrain, running up hills and going down ditches or sometimes built onto the hillside. It was a proper village, or a proper town. A feeling of warm coziness emanated from Raxri''s Sapi Furnace.
As they entered the borders of the village, Raxri noticed a few women and men washing dishes and clothes by the river. A handsome young boy clad in a crimson cloth tunic, sarouel, and reed sandals conversed with the middle-aged women wearing beautiful tie-dyed smocks and light cotton skirts. Some of them covered their heads in a textile kerchief. Others wore a salakot.
Those women turned and waved, smiling at Raxri and Sungai. "Hey! Greetings!" one of the women shouted out, in the trading language. She turned to the handsome boy, whose hair was tied up into a high bun, and said something in their local language.
The boy, smiling, laughed and nodded. Raxri noticed that they were holding onto a red yew bow, and across their back was tied with red string a bamboo lance. The boy ran from the river and across the bridge to meet and greet Raxri and Sungai as they arrived at the other side.
The boy was a young man when he spoke. "Greetings, hallowed travelers. What brings you to our region this time of night?"
Sungai fidgeted. They were restless. Raxri, eyebrows furrowed, reached down and stroked his snout. Then, to the boy, "Hail. I am Raxri Uttara and my blessed companion here is Sungai, the great stallion. What village this be?"
"It is full great to meet you, Raxri Uttara and Sungai. I am Kamiro, the foremost protector and chief-in-waiting of this humble Iri Village. It is nearing the darkness however, and many of our peoples are heading to rest for the night. As one no doubt knows, roving demon hordes and gunggong bandits threaten our very safeties especially at night. Ah, and if it be of any consolation to you, Iri Village is part of the Nunuk League." They gestured to the lotuslights and the house lighting, which no doubt signaled that it was part of whatever power grid the Nunuk League was.
Sungai kept flailing about, as if trying to get away from Kamiro.
Kamiro raised a hand, asking: "May I?"
Raxri looked dubiously at first, then acquiesced when they realized that they shouldn''t be so distrustful. The boy pat Sungai''s snout.
Sungai resisted at first, but then quickly calmed down afterwards, sinking into eventual relaxation.
"Thank you. Forgive me, Sungai is a rowdy one." Raxri nodded at the very bridge that Kamiro now stood upon. "In full honesty, all we wish is to be able to cross the bridge. We are... on our way home."
"I see," said Kamiro, nodding. They looked behind them, glancing at the peoples wrapping up their final chores and walking back to their homes. They had porcelain and earthenware pots stacked and balanced atop their heads, making them resemble walking stone spires. "Well if that''s the case, may I persuade you to rest for a moment in our humble village? If only until the morning, so you will not have to face the dangers that lurk at night. We have a guest house prepared for you, and it is placed right beside mine."
Raxri bit their lip. They did not know if now would be the right time for it. But then again, they''d seen the kinds of dangers that now danced about the Utter Islands. And to add to that, they were still covered in wounds themselves!
Trusting better judgment, Raxri shrugged-nodded. "That might be the more erudite course of action, Honorable Kamiro. I will be in your debt."
Kamiro smiled and nodded. Raxri noticed they moved as if a heavy weight had been lifted from their shoulders. A burden, or perhaps, a grudge. Raxri, being the not great socialite mastermind that they were, asked: "Are you okay?"
Kamiro blinked. "Of course. What makes you say that? Come, follow me. It is not too far from here."
Raxri looked at Sungai, and Sungai shrugged. Raxri did not know what to make of that, so they instead followed the honorable Kamiro.
They walked through the village''s slightly dense housing situation. Houses placed a good distance from each other, no walls or fences to separate them, built atop hardwood platforms. At the edges of the village where the farmers and the hunters and the fishermen would be, one could find stilt houses built atop thin bamboo poles.
The cottages here were large and built upon thick hardwood cut into squared poles. The largest house was built atop a hill, overlooking the entire village, and had multiple annexes. A wall of lacquered stockade protected the longhouse.
The houses here were painted a dark blue, as opposed to being kept the same color of wood as the trees they were hewn from.
The entire village was lit up by beautiful stone lanterns, cut and dried. They were chiseled into their shapes, with an idol carved atop, holding lotuslights. They had power, here, as opposed to the monastery, which relied on more natural means.
Kamiro must have noticed Raxri looking at the stone lanterns. He said: "The lotuslights have for the longest time helped in keeping the monsters away."
"Is there a problem in this village?" asked Raxri, having pondered on that very idea for the longest time. "You are... wracked with anxiety. This village rings with a cold hue, as if it is chilled and stalked by a demon."
Kamiro only smiled. "It is not safe to speak of such things out in the open, honorable wanderer. Let us get to your cottage first."
The darkness of night had wrapped about them now as they arrived near the edge of the village, upon another, lower hill. It was upon an outcropping that provided a good look over the village. It was a watchman''s hill, one for watching over others.
From here, Raxri could see the extent of Iri Village. It was not particularly large, and not particularly dense. A few households lived here, around three dozens of families judging from the number of what seemed like permanent residences. All of them had lighting, it seemed.
Kamiro''s house was similar to the residential houses of others: squared poles and dark blue painted hardwood, lacquered as protection from the humidity. No doubt when the river flooded they weren''t reached up here, so this and the chief''s longhouse acted as refuge areas. It had two roofs, meaning people could climb up to a second level.
There was a smaller, single-roofed house situated a few tails down the path from it. One would walk through it before walking to Kamiro''s house. This one was fenced off by a low bamboo fence, and then flanked and made beautiful with various bamboo that framed its entrance. There was a roofed shade shelter that had hooks upon its poles so that horses and other mounts could be left within without worrying about them wondering off. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
"This is our guest house. Please, enter. Your horse Sungai has his own pavilion that they can slip under." They walked over and tied Sungai onto the pavilion beside the house. Afterwards, they walked up the stairs that led to the porch, washed their feet from the porcelain pot beside the door, and entered.
The house itself was spacious and large, though it only had one attic. It had no partitions: the sleeping mat was placed more or less beside the large window, but was thankfully veiled with a mosquito net. In the corner there was a stone stove built atop a stone vessel where charcoal could be put without burning the rest of the house down. Kamiro walked over to it and lit it, and then they poured what seemed to be milk and tea leaves into the stone pot and let it cook.
"You have my full gratitude, Kamiro," said Raxri, bowing and performing the heart reverence. "Your hospitality will not be forgotten."
Kamiro turned and smiled, nodded. "It is of no problem. It weighs upon my conscience to let you travel around at such a time. It is exceedingly dangerous, one should know. Only fire wards away the monsters."
"Have monsters been a long worry of this village?" Raxri walked over and removed the monk robe that they had been given by the monks--this one was only an overlayed robe, large, almost like a gown.
Kamiro shrugged. "For as long as I and my father and my grandfather have been alive here, yes."
"So three generations, more or less. Is it because of the Invincible Blade Princess?"
Kamiro shook his head. He was doing his best not to look at Raxri. No doubt they thought Raxri was undressing there and then, but Raxri was just removing their outer robes, revealing a thick sleevelesss tunic and a very very wide sarong that wrapped around their waist twice, and the excess cloth was pleated and folded many times into the shape of an orchid flowing from the sky. "Perhaps... it was aggaravated after the wars of the Invincible Blade Princess, but no, it was not because of her. Monsters and devils have been a long problem of the Utter Islands. It is simply the way of this world. Little pockets of order and safety, these sanctuaries of community, are the only places that are truly safe in this world."
"You speak with a wisdom beyond your years." Raxri sat beside Kamiro in front of the stove. They had two clay cups readied to take milk tea. "So what problem does this village have?"
Kamiro looked around for a moment, then. They looked uncomfortably long at the open window.
"A giant haunts the road that leads north from here." He said this as he looked back to the milk tea. "It traps travelers in his forest maze and then eats them after it is done toying with those very same travelers. We have lost many people of this village to it. They are not an old monster either, this giant has been here only recently. Having chosen a particular tree down the road as its particular abode. It enjoys feeding off of the terror of the travelers it traps."
Raxri furrowed their eyebrows. "How terrible."
"That is the way of things here," he replied. "It is of no consequence: we already forbid people from traveling at night or even in the darkness of gloam. It is far too dangerous. The monsters and demons will eat you up."
Raxri watched the fires rising from the charcoal. "So, fire keeps them away?"
"Fire is one of the things that keep them away. Commonly it is gods that keep the monsters away. This is why priests, priestesses, shamans and the like are integral for any village. I''m sure you understand this. Almost every sanctuary in this world has some sort of holy person that makes deals or speaks to the gods."
"Right. I have noticed this." Raxri blinked and said: "You speak to me as if you speak to a child."
"You have the eyes of someone lost," said Kamiro. "We have many of those people. But you are not lost physically. You are lost mentally. Your very soul is gone." Kamiro sighed. "You have lost your memories, have you not?"
A chill down Raxri''s spine. "How did you know?" And he speaks of souls?
"I was right, then? It was partly conjecture and partly due to my own shamanic eye."
"You are the shaman of this village?"
Kamiro nodded. The dark circles under their eyes seemed to become heavier, against the low light of the fires. "I protect this village both physically and spiritually. Hence, it is difficult for me to get any rest." He let out a heavy breath. "I am... tired."
"What do you mean my soul is gone?"
"Do you not know? Every being has a soul. The thing that gives us vivacity, emotion, passion, thrill for life. The will to live, that kind of thing. Its also the face of our magnetism, our inherent presence. Souled beings, spirited beings, are said to be very energetic or very forceful creatures because of that. That''s what souls are. That''s why many souls and specters still linger if they were particularly attached to something in this phenomenal world. These souls, ghosts, wraiths, specters, what have you... they are not beings, but manifestations of attachments. And so Souls are one of the three bodies of a sentient being: Body, Soul, and Mind, with the Senses tying them altogether, and with Technique sharpening them."
"I see. And... you don''t think I have a soul?"
"You do," said Kamiro. "But it is small again. You had a different soul, before, once. A more powerful one... But there are flecks of your past Soul, reflected upon the Mirror of your Mind. What the gods have told me is true, then."
Raxri blinked. They moved back a bit. Away from Kamiro.
Kamiro watched Raxri unblinking. "You are Raxri Uttara, Heaven Dancer."
Raxri reached around for Puksa, realized they had placed it by the sleeping mat. Shit.
"What do you want, honorable Kamiro?" Keep the reverent tone. It might buy me some time...
"Taking care of this village has eaten away at my very soul, Raxri Uttara," said Kamiro. "Please, help me."
"How can I help you, honorable Kamiro?"
"Let yourself be eaten by our chief, Chief Dulumnan. In so doing this village will become exceedingly safe, blessed by heaven, and no monster will ever strike us ever again."
Raxri shook their head. "Forgive me, I cannot allow this. I am not yet done with my duty. I still have to do something. I cannot die again just yet."
"Then you truly are the Heaven Dancer that Heaven seeks."
Raxri took one long look at Kamiro and realized that they truly were just a human that had been given a task too much for a young man such as he. Mustering loving-kindness in their heart and then sending it spooling toward him, Raxri said: "Help me help you, Kamiro. I am that Heaven Dancer, but I do not wish to be eaten. Why am I being hunted down?"
"My Chief is not a mercenary. He is not one of the Glaives of Heaven," said Kamiro, and the fatigue that bore down them weighed heavier. "A Warlord from Heaven has told every holy man and every priest and priestess in the Utter Islands that consuming the flesh of the Heaven Dancer will grant one boundless Sapi and immortality, skyrocketing them past the many strata of Cultivation and into the Formless Realm. This immortality matches the immortality of True Immortals. Of Ascendants."
Raxri shook their head. "No, no. That has no basis in reality. I myself am cultivating my Sapi from the ground up once again. I have lost all of my Sapi!"
"But this is your flesh yet, yes? Then it will still hold all that residue of your own cultivation. Heaven dogs your footsteps, Raxri Uttara, and whatever Heaven does, the Earth follows."
"I cannot be consumed," said Raxri. "And I cannot allow such greedy people to partake in such power. That kind of power will only corrupt. Power without the proper guiding principle of Compassion only destroys you and others."
"That may be true," said Kamiro. "But I am still my chief''s subject."
"Let me go," said Raxri. "Let me go and I will never return to this village and you will not have to face the dilemma of offering me to your chief."
"And then the giant will take you," said Kamiro. "It is better for the chief to consume your flesh and obtain the Power to protect our village than the giant to consume your flesh and obtain the power to destroy the entirety of the Nunuk Vale."
Raxri exhaled exasperatedly. "And if I go and take care of the giant that strikes at you?"
"Then there will be more monsters that will hunt us, and seek to bring us down. Please, great sage. Realize. This will be a way to help us."
"Forgive me. I cannot." Raxri was of course conflicted. Was what they were doing not in accordance with compassion? Was giving up themselves the better way? Was self sacrifice something they had to do to stick to the precepts of the Law?
But then they realized that they still had so much to do. Their cultivation was not yet done, and no doubt ending their journey here would not be of any use. They had to fight for themselves: their self sacrifice should come after they can perform virtues and austerities for those that need them.
To save others, they must first save themself.
"This world needs no heroes," said Kamiro. "It needs kings and lords to facilitate the safety of their subjects."
"A world of only kings and lords is a world strangled by chains it forged itself. Better every peasant a king than a few be gods."
Kamiro exhaled. They shot forward, blade flashing suddenly in their hands. Raxri leaned backwards to dodge the glinting razor, and then concentrated their Sapi into their feet. Scarlet energy burgeoned from it as Raxri kicked at Kamiro''s gut. Devastating Red Hand, but channeled through their feet.
Kamiro careened up, crashing into the roof and then falling back down. As they fell back down, Raxri rolled to the side, sprung to their feet, and then spun, bringing their feet with them and performing a Devastating Red Dropkick right as Kamiro fell in front of them. The impact was perfect blow: Kamiro careened again, this time into the wall, and then through the wall, destroying that very side of the house, and they tumbled into the ground, unconscious.
Through that wall, Raxri realized that hundreds of those villagers had gathered around, with torches and rusty blades and rusty harpoons in their hands. Their flesh withered and desiccated, as if sloughing off their bones.
Reanimated? Raxri shuddered. Their resolve faltered. It was no small feat, to be able to maintain one''s resolve in the face of walking corpses.
Raxri turned and dove for their monk robes and Puksa. They fumbled for their satchels and sashes, making sure they had an ample inventory of medicines and curatives. "Curse fate for leading me into a literal ghost town!" [1.42] - The Corpse Brigade
Reanimated creatures arise from the spite, piety, and prowess of Charnel Wizards who practice the dread Grave Magicks, incantations that draw power from the interpenetrating symbolic power of charnel grounds, cemeteries, mausoleums, and the like. A large contingent of them also worship the Unconquerable Maiden, who keeps them safe from agitated and vengeful spirits that might arise from these places of death. Those reanimated are not those people kept alive, they are new beings entirely. And they are not Sentient. True Resurrection is one of the Five Impossibilities of this world. Any resurrection is nothing but a homonculus of a true being, and while they might move and act like a real being, when their consciousness is severed, it does not go into the Interstitial, but rather, dissipates into nothingness. You might be wondering, then: what is the difference between a Conscious, Rational Sentient Being and a Conscious, Rational, Non-Sentient Being? The answer will take you closer to Revolution. From Treatise On This World''s Beasts And Monsters written by Cobalt Mace Sage
Raxri inhaled. Their Nihawa rushed through them like a newly flowing river. The Sapi coursed through every point in their body.
When they exhaled, they jumped out of the cottage, diving straight into the crowd of undead that had gathered at the front of their erstwhile home.
The pungent smell of fresh corpses, blade-like, cutting through the air and Raxri''s senses. They felt as though they waded through a charnel ground. The dawn-haired swordmaiden uttered their mantras and performed their hand signs as they struck and wefted through the corpses with their blade, cutting and slicing and slashing and destroying.
"Forgive me," muttered Raxri. "May my violence bring you into better reincarnation."
The reanimated''s rusted longknives and polearms and tridents and harpoons struck out, wildly, violence unbridled. Raxri''s flashing blade and flickering live hand parried the majority of them. Countered one, breathing as they vaulted over a walking corpse and decapitated them, blade-burning.
Raxri hurricaned through the corpses. A whirlwind of iron peonies, slashes blossoming and parries and defenses deflecting and turning away attacks from the reanimated warriors.
Every time Raxri killed one through stabbing or decapitation or bisection they dissolved into bone dust that fell onto the floor, too heavy to be carried by the winds. In the end, silence.
The courtyard now quiet.
Raxri breathed heavily, ignoring the minor wounds they had sustained.
Then more Reanimated shambled in. Their lower jaws hung laxly off of their heads, their teeth falling and rotting, their eyes popped out of their sockets. Their bones jutting out of unnatural angles. Their flesh almost melting away.
Raxri cursed. They turned and ran towards the pavilion where Sungai was. Sungai was busy goring and kicking away a few stragglers that managed to avoid Raxri''s cutting, flashing blade. "Sungai, let''s get out of here!"
Sungai neighed in acquiescence.
Raxri untied Sungai, promptly mounted him, turned, and ran down the path leading to south of the village. Sungai leaped over the throngs of reanimated corpses. Raxri unsheathed Puksa and cut down the few reanimated corpses that stood in their way, cutting on either side of Sungai.
The village''s exit neared. How close they be! Only for their escape to be staunched by a larger, corpulent reanimated corpse. No, it was four different corpses fused and stitched onto a large behemoth. In one hand they wielded a giant butcher''s knife--a knife not for butchering livestock, but for butchering giants.
Sungai faltered.
Raxri shook their head and exhaled, patting Sungai. They visualized their Sapi coursing through their proud stallion. "Set your heart ablaze, Sungai," said Raxri. "Do you trust me?"
I don''t even know if I trust myself right now, they thought to themself. But they reached for that thought with their mind-hand and threw it away.
Sungai neighed, as if to say: "I don''t have a choice."
Sungai burst forward, renewed vigor, gallop turning into lightning strides.
Raxri breathed, concentrating on their Light Body Technique. They kicked themselves up to stand atop Sungai. The wind threatened to blow them over, but proper control of breathing flow allowed them to stand without faltering. They held Puksa up to their side, pointing, as if a wing.
Concentrating, breathing, they guided their Nihawa to pool Sapi into the blade. They chanted the mantra as they performed the hand seals with their other hand.
There were seven mudras to this one in all, Raxri was taught: Dragon, Thunderbolt, Lotus, Demoness, Angel, Blade, and then Omen.
The Omen Mudra was one of a threatening pointing gesture with one, two, or three fingers. Raxri had gotten used to using two fingers. With their hand in that mudra, they ran it down the flat of Puksa''s blade, imbuing it with the coruscating heaven-to-earth white lightnings.
As Sungai galloped closer, the reanimated beast roared and charged. Raxri somersaulted up into the sky, arcing over the reanimated chimera, screaming: "Adamantine Sword: Heavenly Lightning Saber!" They unleashed five slashes of purelight.
The five slashes cleaved straight through the giant as if he were butter. At the end of it, smoking and cut into ten pieces, the reanimated giant fell into bone dust, chopped and carved by heaven-to-earth lightning.
Raxri finished the arc of their somersault. They landed lightly, feather-like, upon Sungai''s saddle. They quickly sat down, releasing all the concentrated Sapi, and they galloped away from the village.
Looking behind their shoulder, Raxri saw that the reanimated corpses and puppet skeletons still moved, still gave chase. "We can''t rest, Sungai. Forgive me. We must run the night!"
Sungai did not protest. He galloped, running down the narrow and tight riverside path--
--a shooting star lance of purelight streaked through the air. It impaled the earth before them.
Sungai dove to the side, throwing Raxri straight into the dirt. They slammed into the soil, engaged their Light Body Technique, flipped over to land on their feet.
Puksa at the ready, live hand up in a protective hand sign. It was here that Raxri realized their solid physical protective means lacked. I need armor, thought Raxri. I keep getting nicked and struck. Myu Fan will not like this.
Raxri''s minor wounds and abrasions reminded them that they were alive.
Raxri looked up.
It was Kamiro.
He walked towards them, alone. In one hand he held a shining pink arrow, and on the other a yew bow as long as he was tall. His eyes burned a bright magenta. A starburst exploded from his bow.
Raxri grimaced. "Forgive me, Kamiro!" they yelled, Puksa still at the ready. "I cannot be an offering! I must return to my master, my teacher!" I must fulfill my duty. Save those that betrayed me. Accrue power. Cultivate compassion.
In response, Kamiro unleashed another shooting star arrow. It streaked across the night darkness. Raxri took a half step forward--
--and then deflected the shooting star arrow with their defensive mudra: Heavenly Lightning Deflection.
The straight pink line that was the arrow immediately curved, arcing in a steep trajectory, and then fell into the rushing river.
"Peace!" yelled Raxri. "I wish no harm unto you!"
"Then perish!" Another arrow burst from his bow. Cursing, Raxri took a half step forward again and performed another Heavenly Lightning Deflection, turning the arrow''s trajectory and causing it to strike deep into a nearby tree.
I can''t keep this up. He will skewer me if I allow this to happen.
Of course, Raxri would be overwhelmed as they did not have their own ranged attacks that could match the absolute distance of a shooting star arrow. They had to get closer, they had to close the gap.
Concentrating, they exhaled, engaging their Light Body Technique, and then they bound forward. Huge steps across the space between Kamiro and they.
Kamiro fired off another shooting star arrow.
Raxri struck another Heavenly Lightning Deflection mid-leap, sending the arrow straight into the ground.
They spun mid-bound and struck both feet into the soil. Raxri exhaled, and then leaped, somersaulting through the air. Arcing towards Kamiro.
Another arrow exploded from Kamiro. This one had the breath of burning Sapi, differently colored. Bright yellow, almost gold.
Kamiro uttered a silent spell; the arrow that burst from the bow split evenly into a thousand arrows, tiny javelin missiles, a burgeoning chrysanthemum. The glare illuminated the night, turning black into orange. Stolen story; please report.
The harsh rays reflected on the black eyes of the thousand gods, watching from the shadows.
The chrysanthemum arrow attack spread across the sky... and then converged into Raxri. They could do nothing else but employ evasive maneuvers, concentrating their breathing entirely on their Light Body Technique.
They leaped and dove and vaulted and hid behind tree trunks, zipping and flickering and moving in a zig-zagging pattern. The chrysanthemum missiles struck the ground and dissipated. Others struck each other and also dissipated.
However, the others were too fast for Raxri to completely dodge, and the ray-arrows tore and ripped skin. They immediately cauterized the wounds they created in their destruction.
I have to do something. I will not hold! Even in the flurry of their dodges, Raxri saw Kamiro readying another straight shooting star shot while the chrysanthemum flurry continued on.
I have to get closer. Raxri, still dodging about, employed their evasive maneuvers in such a way that they came closer and closer to Kamiro instead. Kamiro noticed this; they immediately fired off another shooting star arrow.
Raxri, in midair, performed Heavenly Lightning Deflection as they spun around in a corkscrew, deflecting all incoming arrows from every direction. A shower of gold and pink emanated from them, a blossoming flower pattern. All the javelins deflected in a firework display.
"What--" Kamiro fumbled for their next arrow, but Raxri was there, right before him. As their feet slammed into the soil, Raxri lunged, their shoulder slamming into Kamiro''s gut.
The last few chrysanthemum missiles flew towards Kamiro...
...and then dissipated right before it hit him.
Curses. No friendly fire.
Raxri tumbled behind Kamiro, twisted into the air, and then dove in with their blade. Kamiro turned and tried to leap into the sky, but Raxri''s Adamant Lightning Strikes flashed faster and brighter than the thunderbolt. Raxri''s blade cut deep, slashing, lacerating, and they managed to cut off Kamiro''s bow arm.
Kamiro screamed in pain and tumbled in the air before slamming into the earth.
Raxri landed on the ground before him, dashed forward, and then stabbed down. Puksa''s blade impaled Kamiro''s hair, pinning him in place.
Raxri, breathing heavily, rose to their feet. Sweat beaded from their brow. "Why...?"--they caught their breath--"Why would you strike me down!"
"I am my chief''s subject!" said Kamiro, who at this point was also breathing heavily, their ragged gasps chasing air. They winced as they spoke, their hand grasping at their torn arm. "This is what I must do to repay him."
Raxri shook their head. "You can leave, you know! Do you mean to tell me your chief is some sort of warlock?"
"He has kept his loved ones alive for centuries," said Kamiro, with a tone that seemed to say: you wouldn''t understand.
"And so they are reanimated? That seems more disrespectful if anything." Raxri removed any weight they had on Kamiro, seeing that Kamiro could no longer move, and was focused on mending their broken arm.
"They are kept from reincarnating into a worse body," said Kamiro. "Prithee, tell me, is that not a better circumstance than being born in hell?"
"So these are sentient beings trapped in the bodies of the reanimated?!" Raxri mopped their face in disbelief. "And they attacked at me?"
"Their loyalty to the chief is not something that you would be able to understand!" Kamiro tried to bounce up, but Raxri quickly dropped their heel down Kamiro''s sternum, knocking the wind out of them.
Raxri fell onto their ass as Kamiro squirmed on the ground, grasping for help. "Does the League know of this?" Raxri knew almost nothing of the League, other than them being mentioned by Myu Fan, but they figured that they had some sort of regulating committee to help with situations such as these. Would a spiritual society would condone such practices such as willful stopping of the turning of the wheel?
"Damn the League." Kamiro inhaled: "Damn the Vale! They''ve done nothing for us. Look at them! They are safe within their vale walls. Within their forest groves! We have long been lost. The Chief only wished to keep us safe! And now look at us." Raxri was surprised when they saw tears glistening on Kamiro''s cheek. "Now look at us."
Raxri inhaled, breathing deeply. They turned and looked at the accursed, haunted village. "Where is your chief? Perhaps I will be able to speak with him, and strike a bargain."
"Our chief? Our chief?!" Kamiro looked like they were grasping for words. Raxri stepped back; perhaps they needed space. Unfortunately, instead, Kamiro burst into a full-on sob. Like a child, they wiped away fruitlessly at their tears that flowed and flowed. They wanted to say something but it was replaced by a child-like wailing.
Raxri pouted, moved to tears themselves, though they kept it in. Despite this, they held Puksa at the ready, and kept looking around to see if there would be any reanimated that would ambush them during this time of conversation.
It took some time for Kamiro to settle down.
Sungai had returned, mostly unharmed, and Raxri had hauled Kamiro to the riverside, where they lit a small torch as their bonfire for the moment. When Kamiro''s wailing fit subsided, he shook his head. "Forgive me."
"It is all right," said Raxri, though they were not sure if they should continue to console Kamiro or not. They worked on wrapping their torn arm with white cloth that they had found in Kamiro''s own pack, though Raxri made sure to apply that healing salve beforehand.
"Our chief, Chief Dulumnan... he has been long dead. His mummified corpse, kept in such a way to allow his sorcerous powers to keep the reanimated in the village going. All at once our chief and guardian deity. By day, they look like normal villagers, my old loved ones. By night they become the shambling corpses that they truly are."
"I see," Raxri said, crossing their arms across their chest. "If that is the case, then you are...?"
"Also Reanimated? No. In the final ritual, the Chief gave me a small modicum of immortality through his powers. He transferred his Sapi to me, and strengthened me. But I have not been cultivating my Furnace. In truth, it has been full difficult to cultivate anything when surrounded by the shadows of your loved ones."
"Then why did you wish to sacrifice me?"
Kamiro sighed. "I thought... I believed that if someone of powerful enough Sapi would be sacrificed... if someone whose flesh could grant immortality was given to the Chief, he would awaken again. Revive. And maybe complete his infernal ritual and bring everyone back from the dead."
"The Chief does this because...?"
"Because we are constantly haunted by demons and monsters, being at the border of the Nunuk Vale. But no matter what help we asked, it was never enough. Eventually they stopped sending us help, and we had to take matters into our own hands." Kamiro winced as Raxri finished wrapping their arm. "This land of everwar is hell to live in." Raxri gave Kamiro a sip of Myu Fan''s healing gourd.
"Why don''t you leave?" asked Raxri, tilting their head to the side. "Why don''t you live your own life, and let this one become a memory? Iri Village... countless communities have risen and fallen. There is no need to stick to one."
"I cannot leave," said Kamiro, shaking their head. He raised his remaining hand and Raxri could see, as the light of the moon shone down, that the lunar gleam cut through Kamiro''s flesh. "Even now I am at the borderlands of my reach. I physically cannot leave this place until the sorcery is ended."
"I see." Raxri sighed, looking up at the star-speckled night, beside the Gash of the Invincible Blade Princess. "Then I will free you. In the morning."
"What?"
"I will free you. I will put an end to you all. In so doing, you will be free to move into the cycle again, and perhaps find better circumstance."
Kamiro was quiet.
"However..." Raxri began, realizing what Kamiro was thinking. "You are not sure if this is what you want, huh?" Raxri sat down, Puksa unsheathed laid atop their knees. In the pale moonlight, Puksa''s silver blade gleamed, as if a small torch itself. Never to go without light in darkness.
"I do not know if what you wish to do... freeing or ending this nightmare... I do not know if this will be enough." Kamiro thought for a moment again, before saying: "And... I''m not sure if this will be the end of it all. What if they all return to the Whorl, and I stay here, alone, without anyone? To wander until my final days?"
To this Raxri thought for a moment as well. What was there do to when everything you''ve ever known disappears before your very eyes? No doubt there will be huge bouts of loneliness, no doubt there will be huge bouts of anxiety. Without community, without those that we depend on... what are we? What are humans but beings defined by everyone else? What is anything but something defined by something else?
Raxri realized then just how close the situation would be to where they were right now. Without their memories, without even a memory of who their mother was, of who their father was.... If they had family or if they didn''t... Who were they? What were they supposed to do...? Were they even family, in truth?
But then there Raxri was. Taking a step every day. One by one, focusing on what was right in front of them. All things will be revealed eventually, their steadfast mantra. And so far it worked, or at least Raxri liked to think so. Thinking too much about the future, thinking too much about the past... it was like thinking about nothingness. Neither of those existed. The only moment Raxri ever had was the one they were going through at that moment.
But Raxri did not know if that was something Kamiro needed to hear right now. Nobody ever wants to hear those words, but those are the things they realize eventually...
Breathing, Raxri said: "Would you not think that to be a freedom?"
"What?"
"No duty to chain you down... No obligation required. You are not bound neither by responsibility nor by sorcery to stay here, in this place suffused with undeath. You will be free to roam, to escape, to find out what you wish to do, who you want to be."
"I am not much for soul-seeking. I am not like those nobles that travel to find out themselves."
Raxri made a compassionate hand gesture and said: "Those nobles are deluded. Anyone attempting to find themselves is only on the first step of Enlightenment''s Ladder! Those on the true Royal Road are those that understand that there is no self to seek, only the cultivation of one''s mind."
"What precept do you speak, swordstress?" asked Kamiro, their eyes gleaming with genuine curiosity.
Raxri smiled. "I am no cleric, no monk, no priest. I cannot speak to you of the Dharma. Just that I am one such example of it, and I am a cultivator of the Holy Doctrines."
"I know of Giant Stone Monastery, upon Mount Jura."
"Right! I''ve just left there. Traveling home was I, before coming through this hallowed place."
"I see," said Kamiro. "Then you are truly someone who has cultivated real Virtue. Seeing as I glimpse the Dharma gleaming through you, a candleflame under a cloth."
Raxri shook their head. "I am no paragon of the Anantadharma," they said. "I am but a lay practitioner, one who dives into the esoteric mystique of the Buddhadharma. If you wish to learn the Law in truth, then you will have to travel to Giant Stone Monastery itself. There the Monks will be all too happy to receive you. Tell them that I, Raxri Uttara, sent you."
Kamiro was deep in thought again. Raxri sighed and said: "Here. It seems as though we are in a relatively safe place for the night."
Kamiro nodded and said: "Yes. That we are. The giant lurks just down this road, and none of the reanimated wish to come close to this section of the riverbanks due to it being too damp. They cannot walk across running water, you see. They can wash dishes and clothes in it, for that was what they did when they were truly alive, but they cannot swim within it, cannot walk across it. A fatal essence when living in the Utter Islands, surrounded and penetrated by water as we are."
"Okay," Raxri said, making a mental note about the riverbanks. "Then, why don''t we make camp here? I can rest until the morning. And then, perhaps after a night''s sleep, you can tell me if you have decided. If you wish to be free, then I will fulfill my repsonsibility of seeing your chief, and perhaps I can even provide him aid. Else, if you do not wish a thing, then I will be on my way, and you can return to your life."
Kamiro thought for a moment, and then said: "That sounds like a good plan. However, you seem awfully trusting of me not to slit your throat while you slept."
Raxri shrugged. They said: "I am not afraid of death. And besides, you would not be able to."
The next morning, Raxri awoke to Kamiro sitting by the river, meditating on a flat rock. When they stirred, Kamiro broke his meditation and looked over his shoulder. Silently, Raxri was full glad that Kamiro didn''t decide to cut their throat while they slept. Sure they would''ve woken up anyway for it--that was one of the benefits of having good meditation--but it was better safe than sorry.
Kamiro''s arm had healed quickly, but it was just that, a stump. It did not seem to faze him, however, Raxri noticed. What manner of thaumaturgy did Kamiro hide then, at that moment, that they were not too worried of missing an arm? In such a violent world at the end of calamity?
Kamiro''s face was resolute. The same kind of face one would take when allowing a deathly procedure for a loved one''s wellbeing. It scared and inspired Raxri all at once.
"Do it," said Kamiro. "Free the people of Iri Village." [1.43] Liberation Due, A Debt Paid
"''Spirit'' is the term used to refer to a number of beings that reside within this world and have magickal powers, but do not have king-like powers over them. They wander about the world and are residents of it like any of us. They are the fifth of the Six Paths, they are the ones seized by wrath. It is very easy to anger them. The gods are those that exhibit some form of hegemony over their domains, and therefore have the power to ward and stop spirits from moving past them. Finally, monsters are stragglers, a sub-path. It is a condition, a state of being, one where you are called to reinforce the Wheel of Violence and keep others in suffering. You can find monsters anywhere across the Six Paths. Therefore know the truth: there are more monsters than spirits. There are more spirits than gods. There are more gods than animals. There are more animals than humans. From Chapter 4 of the Treatise On This Wheel''s Deities by the Lazulian Monk Siwatara Kewagu
Raxri made Sungai stay back by the river, to keep him safe from the reanimated. It was the morning and the Sun''s Blasted Rays kept the reanimated at bay, searing through night''s black sorceries. However, Raxri could never be too safe when it came to Sungai. Besides, Sungai was not their own horse, Sungai belonged to their master and dear friend Akazha.
How I wish Akazha was here now.
But Raxri was not one to shirk responsibility. And so they strode into Iri Village with their hand resting upon the dragon pommel of Puksa. Every step blossomed purpose. Their Sapi fountained out of them unseen, yet felt.
The quiet village slumbered haphazardly: crows and owls watched their every move, but no human walked out of their doors. Raxri felt coldness spike the nape of their neck. The residents of this village were watching them, no doubt about that. Watching and judging and plotting.
Resolute, Raxri powered through. Through vine choked stilt houses, through barren streets, through sheds of blacksmithing equipment laid bare and forsaken. They arrived at the village center, and saw a singular effigy shaped like a spire rising from the stark center. The smell was horrendous, the stench of charred corpses. Raxri had to concentrate to keep down the vomit rising from the pit of their own stomach. They hadn''t even eaten yet today.
At the top of the spire was a body that no doubt belonged to a lady. Her entire body had been charred, pieces of burned silk and cloth, frayed. Scorched skin, hair completely burnt off. Body impaled upon the spire. A piece of her hand had fallen onto the ashpile below at the base of the spire.
The sky was the color of cloth left undyed.
Raxri inhaled deeply. Then, they uttered the Compassion Mantra ("Ahum Muyara Sawa Homa," Elder Karitan for: We of the Treasure Lotus) alongside the Graceful Rebirth Mantra ("Naamu Awadavoh" which is Elder Karitan for "Homage to the Unlimited Radiance Buddha"), both of which they had learned during their time training with the Abbot. The Compassion Mantra they recited for them to generate compassion in their heart and for those around them: even those that watched them with disdain at that very moment. The Graceful Rebirth Mantra was specifically for the woman atop the pillar, and additionally for those at the ashpit, for Raxri could see that there were corpses within. To facilitate a better rebirth, one in the Realm of the Unlimited Light, greater even than the gods.
When Raxri uttered their mantras the humans--or perhaps, more accurately, the reanimated that watched--immediately retreated into their homes.
Fear gripped Raxri''s heart. It threatened to cease from beating.
And yet. And yet, and yet, and yet.
Raxri pressed on, towards the stone stairs, up it, onto the rocky outcropping where the giant longhouse of the village chief rose. As they placed their sandaled foot upon the first step of the stone stairs, however, a voice beckoned from behind.
"Hoy."
Another chill through Raxri''s spine. They inhaled, concentrating on their mantras, concentrating on their breathing. They turned and saw what seemed to be a woman, her hair bundled into multiple tresses atop their head, her body wrapped in two layers of tube skirts and then a shawl over even that. Her skin was the healthy color of bamboo bark, but her eyes were unfocused.
She saw but did not see.
Raxri took their hand off of Puksa''s pommel, performed a heart reverence. "Greetings to you, villager."
"Where do you think you''re going? The chief lives up there. Did the chief call for you?"
Raxri shook their head. "A-ah, forgive me. He did not. H-However--"
"And where''s Kamiro, huh? Something happen to him?" She interjected again. Villagers walked out of their houses with fishing harpoons and rakes and farming longknives. "Who are you?"
Raxri performed the heart reverence again, quicker this time, as they took a step backwards, up the stone stairs. "I am Raxri Uttara, a wandering beggar. I am of no consequence, I am simply on the Royal Road to Enlightenment, as so many others are. Kamiro is safe, they are working to help my horse, Sungai." Raxri grit their teeth and resolved to tell a white lie so that they would not incur the villager''s wrath. So that they themselves would not be forced to commit unneeded violence. "I was told by Kamiro to go to the chief to ask for help from him."
"Oh yeah?" The woman looked at Raxri from head to toe for a moment. "Well, if Kamiro said that you were fine then I guess you--"
"Don''t listen to that demon charlatan!" A man ripped out of a stilt cottage brandishing a bamboo spear. Their entire left arm was missing. "They were here last night! They slashed at me and cut my hand off!"
The woman''s eyes turned to Raxri and they ballooned. "You liar! You dare endanger the sanctity of Iri Village!" And the villagers--reanimated, now, looking normal for all that was worth--descended upon Raxri.
"Forgive me," muttered Raxri, performing a mudra and then unsheathing Puksa.
Raxri fought backwards: they parried and sliced and skirmished while retreating up the stone stairs toward the village chief. They parried one thrown bamboo spear and then used that bamboo spear to skewer another man into the grass beside them. These Reanimated were not imbued with powerful Sapi: they were walking automata with no prowess over Sapi, and so Raxri found them to be of no consequence.
Unfortunately, there numbers were their balancing factor. Raxri sustained cuts and hits here and there, but nothing too deep, and nothing like when they fought the gunggong.
When Raxri reached the front porch of the chief''s longhouse, they noticed the front door was slightly ajar. They could''ve sworn there was an eye peeking out from it, watching them fight off the hordes of reanimated villagers.
There''s my chance! "Devastating Red Hand!" screamed Raxri, as they struck the largest of the villagers that was in front of them and knocked them back, sending them crashing into the throng of villagers behind them.
While they were distracted from that sudden outburst, Raxri turned around and leapt towrads the door. The longhouse''s front door shut closed, but Raxri quickly wedged Puksa''s sheathe in between, stopping the door from slamming shut. Using that as leverage, Raxri forced the door open and slipped in, turned, slammed the door shut.
The door sealed magickally. Made to feel as though the longhouse had no doors at all, and that the "doors" they walked through were nothing but door-like decoration.
Raxri swallowed a growing anxious lump. What magick suffuses this place...?
Raxri turned around to see the insides of the cursed chief''s longhouse. It was beautiful, as was par for the course for a chief''s longhouse. Vaunted roofs with pillars and beams of hardwood, lacuered and engraved with intricate depictions of the stories of heroes. Floor of smooth wood covered with soft cloth or textile rugs, perfect for walking and sitting upon. The back quarter of the entire longhouse was higher than the rest of the longhouse itself, and upon the center of it was the seat of the chief: a silk cushion throne with a back made of weapons and swords.
Sitting upon that very seat was a corpse.
Raxri swallowed. They uttered again the Compassion Mantra and the Great Rebirth Mantra.
The corpse moved. Its jaw creaked, cracked open. A sound escaped from its agape mouth. A low groaning sound burned gradually into a cackling, coughing laugh.
Bones cracked as it turned to face Raxri.
Raxri gripped Puksa''s handle.
"WELL... WHAT HAVE WE HERE NOW?" The corpse was still clad in the trappings of a chief: a great sarong, a battle tunic, gold sandals, gold armbands, wristbands, anklets, shin bands, combat paduka. Most of all a giant headwrap with the front in a triangular position, taller than the rest, almost piercing the sky, the color of bleeding scarlet. Still strung to his waist upon a golden sash was their hallowed heirloom blade.
He moved. Erratic, sudden, bones cracking, dragonfly flitting. He rose to a stand, and unsheathed his heirloom blade. Its handle was ivory, and was in the likeness of a skeletal god. Its tassels were bejewlled, clanking rubies and emeralds with human bones. Its blade gleamed bright, oiled by some twist of magick.
The Chief of Iri Village. DREAD CHIEF DULUMNAN.
"YOU BEAR A WEAPON OF YOUR OWN...?" He pointed with the tip of his blade--a kampilan, meaning it widened at the tip, and had a bifurcated blade, with the longer side being the bladed side.
"I am not here to fight, great chief. I seek to speak with you about the Royal Road of Enlightenment."
A gasp, laugh-like. A facsimile of one. "AH. THOU MAY NOT BE HERE TO FIGHT. BUT I REVEL IN VIOLENCE! UNSHEATHE THY BLADE, LASS, AND QUICKSOME! MEET MY STEEL WITH WHATEVER FORTITUDE YOU MIGHT POSSESS!"
Raxri cursed as Chief Dulumnan leapt off of the raised section of the house, shooting straight toward them. It was sudden. Untelegraphed. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Raxri concentrated and unsheathed Puksa, deflecting Chief Dulumnan''s thrust in the same motion.
"AH!" Chief Dulumnan''s voice was hoarse and broken and striking. Produced from magicks mixed with the grating of bones and the clattering of teeth. "YE HEAVEN DANCER... THOU KNOWEST YET THE MECHANICS OF THE BLADE. EXCELLENT! LET US DO BATTLE UNTIL OUR SONGS ARE BURNED INTO LEGEND AND CARVED UPON TEMPLESTONE!"
"I am not the same Heaven Dancer that you know!" Raxri had to clarify.
Chief Dulumnan repositioned himself, scampering on all fours, before twisting into an unnatural angle, shot toward Raxri again. Raxri leaped into the air and used Heavenly Lightning Deflection, parrying the Chief and sending them careening down into the floor.
The Chief slammed into the longhouse''s wooden slat floors upon all four appendages.
The Chief''s skull twisted on his neck so that he faced Raxri still. He moved like a demon; he did not maneuver himself with the assured dignity of a warrior chief nor of a warlord.
With kampilan at the ready he swung, blade arcing across the space between them.
Raxri winced and used Heavenly Lightning Deflection again, feeling the burning of their Sapi rising and rising within them. They turned the kampilan aside, but they were still stuck in the air. Engaging their Light Body Technique, Raxri used the momentum from the deflection to launch themselves over the chief and behind him.
The Chief struck again and again, even as Raxri repositioned themselves, arcing over the vaunted hall. Raxri had to desperately defend themselves with Puksa. In the storm of blows a few kampilan strikes struck home, slicing and lacerating the points where Raxri was bare. Most of them were minor wounds. The majority of their cuts became slight abrasions against the monk''s robes Raxri wore.
"THOU COMETH HERE WITH PRIDE UPON THINE HEART, SEEKING TO PREACH FALSE TESTIMONIES, YE FALSE PROPHET!"
"I am no prophet!" retorted Raxri, flipping over a wide kampilan swing, stepping lightly on the blade, and then using that to cut three times while in the air, sending the Chief stumbling backwards in surprise. "I wish to help you and your people find peace!"
"ME AND MY PEOPLE NEED NONE OF THY PEACE! WE ARE NOT BENEATH YOU. LEAVE US TO BE FREE!" They exchanged blows again, Puksa versus the cursed kampilan. Their flurrious round of combat sent burning sparks into the air. The erratic, beastly swings of Chief Dulumnan were countered and defeated by the trained and quick strikes of the Adamantine Sword Practitioner, Raxri Uttara.
"You endanger all those that travel here!" said Raxri. "You rob the good people of your village of their chance at a better life, stuck here as shadows of themselves, unable to become true sentient beings cultivating Enlightenment!"
"THINE ENLIGHTENMENT LEADETH TO NOWHERE BUT HELL AND FURTHER SUFFERING. NO MONK, NO NUNUK LEAGUE WARRIOR CAME TO US DURING OUR DIREST TIME OF NEED, YE LOATHSOME FOOL! WHEN THE DEMON HORDES RAVAGED US, WE WERE THE FIRST LINE OF DEFENSE AGAINST THE WORLD''S END, FACING THE SEA OF THE UNIVERSE. IT WAS UP TO ME. ME!"
Another furious round of combat, trading ferocious blows, suffering gashes and cuts. They moved so fast and Raxri let their Concentration become the whole of their being. Parry, block, deflect turned into counter, kick a shin to knock them off-balance, swing down only to be dodged by an erratic movement, follow it up with a flickering hand with the strength of an elephant.
Raxri gained upper hand as they read and memorized the eratic patterns of Chief Dulumnan. They realized that there was a method to all his madness. The Chief managed a few good strikes in as well but none of them ever broke skin. Raxri''s shield yantra tattoos gleamed brightly.
"But you keep your subjects in suffering! You keep yourself in suffering, if you are to stay craving and thirsting for that very thing. You have become a hungry ghost! A monster, who shall never find satisfaction!"
"AND YET I CHOSE THIS OF MY OWN WILL, CRAFTED AND CULTIVATED BY ME. I HAD TO EXCHANGE MY LIFE FOR DEMONIC CULTIVATION: THE ONLY WAY TO KEEP IRI VILLAGE SAFE FROM THE DREAD MARCH OF THE INVINCIBLE BLADE PRINCESS. YE SLATTERN, GRANDSTAND NOT ABOUT THY VIRTUE AND PRECEPTS. ALL I DID WAS PROTECT THE HUMAN LIFE IMPORTANT TO ME! LEAVE THY HYPOCRISY TO BURN!"
As the Chief''s Rage increased, their strikes became even more erratic.
Easier to dodge. Raxri weaved and repositioned to easily stay away from the range of the wide kampilan swings. Though the Chief''s attack accuracy decreased, the strength of his every blow only increased. With every strike, blades of wind emanated exploded from the sword, slamming and cutting into the very pillars. Raxri dodged one strike by bending forward and then twirling around to get out of being backed into a corner, and the blade shattered against the pillars, shaking the deities depicted in that corner of the house.
"You have spent all you needed to spend in this purgatory," replied Raxri. They traded more blows. Raxri kept themself purely concentrated and focused, even as they spoke, even as they thought of the words to fully convince the Chief that there was a way out. "I am giving you a way out. An absolution! I''m sorry you''ve had to go through all of this. But there is a way out, there is peace yet to be achieved!"
"NO!" The Chief summoned pallid green Sapi into their blade and sliced upwards, sending a wave of annihilating energy slicing through the house. Raxri barely dodged it, feinting to the right and then fluttering to the left with a flex of their Sapi to avoid it completely. "I WILL NOT LEAVE. IF I DO NOT... WHAT WILL ALL OF THIS BE FOR?!"
Raxri''s heart mourned. "There is nothing else I can do for you, other than have you be accepted into the Buddhas''s Mandala and being absolved. A prayer and a chant and then you will be blessed. With the great rebirth mantra your mindstreams will be sent to the Pure Lands to cultivate in bliss!"
"LEAVE US BE. WE HAVE NO NEED FOR THY SALVATION!" The Chief struck a perfectly angled diagonal cut.
Raxri parried with a twirling Heavenly Lightning Deflection, parrying the blade into the ground, twirling, and then stepping on the blade. "I offer no salvation but refuge and repose! I am no savior! Just someone that wishes to try and help!"
"THEN THY REWARD SHALL BE DEATH!"
Raxri uttered the mantra of great compassion for a quick moment, and then said: "Then I will have no choice but to eliminate you."
This solicited a hearty laugh from the Chief. "HA! THE HEAVEN DANCER AND THEIR FEARSOME EGO! YOU HAVE LOST ALL YOUR CULTIVATION. YOU HAVE NO POWER BUT IGNORANCE. THOU FACE IMPOSSIBILITY. NOW STAND DOWN AND I SHALT CONSUME THY SUPPLE, BEAUTIFUL FLESH, AND ATTAIN IMMORTALITY. I WILL BRING IRI VILLAGE TO THE HEAVEN BEYOND HEAVEN!"
Raxri sighed. "Then I must show you the extent of my training! Tell me, thorugh all these years, have you cultivated your Sapi?"
The Chief unleashed a barrage of attacks then. Raxri avoided the first few, parried the next few, and then dove into close range with the Chief so that the rest of his attacks struck the wall behind them. There they unleashed five strikes of Adamant Lightning Strikes, finishing it off with a Devastating Red Hand straight into the chief''s reanimated sternum.
"WILL?" The Chief coughed out as it twisted in midair and ground its skeletal feet into the ground so that it did not slam into any part of the house. "MY POWER IS MY WILL. BLESSED AM I WITH THE STRENGTH OF THE CHARNEL WIZARD! MY WILL IS THE WILL OF THIS VERY VILLAGE! I HAVE ATTAINED CHARNEL CULTIVATION!"
The Chief leapt towards Raxri again. Raxri was ready. Blade met blade, converted into an intense trading of blows, but Raxri parried every sword stroke from the chief with a confident live hand. Their clash ended with the Chief on the back foot.
"Then I must tell you that I am far along the Accumulation Stage of the Desire Domain," said Raxri. "With judicious use of my Sapi cultivation, I will defeat you handily and easily."
"SILENCE, YE CRAZY AMNESIAC! WITHOUT YOUR INTERNAL AND EXTERNAL CULTIVATIONS YOU WILL ACHIEVE NOTHING BUT UNTIMELY DEATH! NOW MEET THY MAKER!"
Raxri dodged three more sword strikes from the Chief, but that was nothing but a distraction. The Chief''s skeletal hand shot out and grasped Raxri''s entire body--it seemed to enlarge on its own! The Chief leapt into the sky and slammed Raxri down into the hardwood floor, breaking it and sending wood up into the air. Raxri''s body groaned in pain. As they bounced up because of the force, the Chief threw down his kampilan straight through Raxri''s body.
The kampilan slammed and impaled Raxri onto the floor, and then the Chief Dulumnan''s great feet slammed onto the kampilan''s pommel, driving it ever deeper. Raxri spat blood in pain. Steel ground against flesh and bone.
The Chief''s demon-skull came in close. Parts of his bones had been chipped off. The Chief would not be able to sustain any more damage from this. Wincing, Raxri summoned the Devastating Red Hand. "THOU ART LOST OF ALL POWER. YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED DEATH. THOU WILL NEVER ATTAIN THE CULTIVATION ONE HAS LOST. NOT FOR A THOUSAND YERS."
"All things unattainable I will attain all the same!"
The Chief scowled. "YOU FOOL!"
"Set my heart ablaze!" Raxri yelled, a battlecry. Before the Chief could say anymore, Raxri''s Devastating Red Hand slamed against the Chief''s kampilan and shattered it, effectively removing Raxri from being impaled. Then, with their sword hand, Raxri pierced up, up, up--straight through the Chief''s liver, then up the ribcage, and then deep into his floating gleaming gloam-heart.
The Chief screamed. An ear-piercing, spine-chilling sound, ripping through the afternoon light. The zenith sun''s rays blasted in through the tear in the roof that the Chief himself had made.
Raxri wasn''t done, however: they corkscrewed, sending the Chief off of them completely. Then, before the Chief was blown away completely, they unleashed Strikes 1 and 2 of Adamant Lightning Strikes, slashing in miniature circles that turned into big circles and then finally into arcs that cut straight down, swordwhips that struck like the thunderbolt.
The Chief skidded across the longhouse floor, tumbled and then slammed into the pillar.
As Raxri hit the ground, they bounced up with a push of their feet, spun in mid-air, threw Puksa blade first into the Chief''s heart, pinning them there.
Raxri performed the mudra on both hands to summon Devastating Red Hand onto both of them. Kicked the shattered pieces of the kampilan into the air. Punched while they were in midair, sending a rain of kampilan fragments cutting into the skeletal mien of Chief Dulumnan.
The final one was the kampilan''s handle, which still had a larger chunk of its original blade, now turned into a jagged edge. Raxri twirled and kicked the pommel in mid-air, sending it straight, straight, straight into Chief Dulumnan''s cranium, splitting it in half, embedding it into the pillar behind him.
The longhouse fell silent, then.
The skewered through body of Chief Dulumnan groaned. "THEE... A MOTE OF THE HEAVEN DANCER''S POWER YET. HEAVEN HATH FUCKING LIED TO ME ONE LAST TIME..."
Raxri only watched, their face resolute. They performed the great rebirth mantra and the compassion mantra as the chief slowly melted into violet balls of flame that would eventually dissipate into fireflies. "HA! AND EVEN AFTER ALL THIS..." the Chief said, even as his voice grew smaller and smaller, as his Sapi dissipated. "THOU DEEM ME WORTHY OF COMPASSION YET. AH, MY HATRED FOR THEE IS UNSURPASSABLE..."
Raxri continued uttering the mantra as the bony skeletal death chief completely turned into balls of flame, that eventually dissipated into the ever flowing mindstream. "May you walk in light again," chanted Raxri. At that moment, the sun shone upon them.
A moment of silence for the now departed. Raxri looked around for whatever other items they might be able to use. The first thing they did was walk over to where Puksa was. There they noticed the deep crimson headwrap that was upon Chief Dulumnan''s head. Raxri took that and tied it around their right bicep, where a cut been engraved. Retrieving Puksa, they looked around a bit more.
A shrine on the western portion of the longhouse. No doubt it belonged to gods whose faces and hands were now desecrated. Raxri uttered a mantra of protection and took a step forward. They found rotting fruit and stale water upon the offering plate. Raxri threw those away and replaced them with grains of rice and a freshly lit joss stick. They bowed three times in respect.
Raxri felt eyes watching them. They fully expected a god to appear, showing themselves finally... but none did. Did this community still have a guardian deity? No... perhaps not. Perhaps that''s why Chief Dulumnan was brought to such extents.
When Raxri ascertained that there were no more accoutrements or regalia to find, they bowed three times in the direction of the throne room, and then walked outside of the door, back into the town.
Outside, piles of corpses littered the ground. Despite this, there was no smell of fresh corpses, and there was a certain lighter tint to the air. Similar to the moment where morning first rises after the darkest part of the night. The corpses were the reanimated, now completely cut from the strings of the black sorceries of the charnel path. Raxri uttered the great rebirth mantra as they walked through the village. They realized now too that the houses here had been replaced with run down ruins: the truth behind the illusions, no doubt, cast by the same sorcery as the Dread Chief Dulumnan.
As they walked to the center of the village, drinking an elixir of health to help their wounds heal and to recover all their stamina, Raxri noticed a lithe and tall man, skin the color of alabaster, hair as black as the abyss. Their eyes were the color of gray basalt. They wore a shawl-cloak of pure black, with indigo script inscribed upon it in seemingly haphazard placement. Underneath the shawl-cloak they wore pure black raiment: shadow cloak, tunic, wrap-around robes, trousers, hands wrapped in blackened cloth, and wrap-boots. Over their shoulder was slung a leather bag, made from the skin of crocodiles.
Upon his brow, Raxri noticed, was a vertical eye tattoo, the color of bright blue.
Raxri froze in their tracks.
The man watched, curiously. [1.44] Acolyte of the Unconquered Maiden
Death comes for all of us. Don¡¯t you understand this? Even Gods. Even Immortals. These are all under the inevitable executioner¡¯s blade of Daklaon, Great Time, who has manifested upon this very world as the Unconquerable Charnel Maiden, tutelary deity of charnel grounds, cemeteries, crypts, mausoleums, and all places of death. Of accidents, of executions, of genocides, of suicides. She is there, always kind, always understanding. Then, with her Subatomic Blade, she flenses away the Phenomenal Body, and tosses you into the Interstitial. The Unconquerable Maiden is Death. And none can conquer Death. From the Treatise on the Fifty Great Emanations by Sage Asaraka
Confusion lanced through Raxri. It manifested as a slightly crooked furrow of the Heaven Dancer''s brow.
What was this, now? Something new, again? Raxri''s hand fluttered to Puksa''s handle. Their body still ached, more than usual. No confidence imbued them, considering the stamina they had left.
The two stood in the midst of that abandoned ghost village.
The center of the village held still that corpse upon the spire.
The man was a jade beauty: skin porcelain, face narrow and angular, sharp. Eyes sharp, angular, like a tiger. Cloudy, gray, hiding intention. Lithe of frame, muscles bundled and slithering near their bones. Scars and ink lined his neck, disappearing into their robes. His hair fell on both sides of his head, jet black. Facepaint clad around his eyes: dark ink, the cosmetics of a dancer.
His beauty was a sword''s edge.
His lips were supple, soft, as if he never used them. They were up in a slight smirk.
This man is dangerous, thought Raxri, lowering their stance. All things beautiful are dangerous.
The man exhaled. Had he been holding his breath? "Interesting. A survivor?"
Raxri held their stoic gaze. "Who are you?"
"A specter, a ghost," said the man. "And you?"
No merit in revealing my identity, yet. What if they were one of my hunters? One of the 108 Glaives of Heaven? "A passerby, trying to commit a good deed."
"Mmh." The man shifted where he stood. "And what good deed would that be?"
Raxri stepped back, found their foot upon the first step of the stairs behind them. "Helping this village." Keep the answers short, contrite, brief. Sweet.
"Mmh. You wouldn''t happen to be... well acquainted with the way of death, would you?"
"I''m no warlock, I''m no charnel wizard," replied Raxri. It was getting hard to keep their face placid.
"Ah, but you are a Cultivator, no? An erstwhile attainer of certain transcendent immortality through Will or Compassion or Devotion."
Raxri scowled.
The man''s smile widened.
He continued his sword/wordplay. "So you are..." the man''s voice lilted, slightly seductive. He took a step forward, and the clouds above shifted. Raxri felt the man''s Sapi against their own: like how two flames would meet. Roughly of the same flame, yet the man''s control of his Sapi seemed to be more refined. More consolidated.
When the man took another step forward, Raxri grit their teeth. Their Furnace... it is stronger than mine! He expresses his aura! An oppressive force, like hurricane gale winds, pressed down upon Raxri from where they were. This warrior was a stage higher than them in Cultivation Rank, no doubt. We can tussle. But will I like what I have to give up to be able to match him?
The man spoke, as if reading Raxri''s thoughts: "Ah, scared, are you?" The oppressive feeling became a blade, then a chill. It cut through Raxri, and gave them visions of impending death. The blacks of the world felt blacker, the whites of the world dulled into gray. There was no light, suddenly.
The man''s third-eye hummed with a low light.
"It is okay," he said. "It is time to rest."
Raxri had to get on the offensive. "Leave," they replied. "I will not tell you twice." Raxri unsheathed Puksa and pointed it at him. No thought, no thought. Raxri silently muttered the Great Compassion Mantra. I have to survive. I have to get back to Kamiro.
Akazha waits for me.
"Let us see if your actions can back up your words, shall we?" The beautiful man grinned, and then dashed forward.
Scowling, Raxri met him as he flew overhead with their initiatory attack. Blade clashed against iron-hard fist. "Hm," said the man as he hovered overhead, mid-attack. "Quick reaction time."
Raxri set their Sapi ablaze. Concentrating, they let their head burn with the flow of their Sapi. In that state of battle concentration, all Raxri''s options were laid before them once again.
The man arced to the ground, and then burst forward towards Raxri again with nothing but their iron-hard hands. Raxri performed Adamantine Lightning Strikes to both strike and counter the would-be assassin''s flurry of blows.
Sparks flew. Steel clashed against hands. Strike, strike, parry, parry, parry. No attack between them passed their defenses. In the end, Raxri wielded Devastating Red Hand to push the martial artist away.
The martial artist used the same technique.
Their attacks clashed, and they both flew away from each other. Well-needed space opened in between them. Back to neutral. Finally.
The man stretched their neck. "So you truly are a cultivator. Your will... It is cold, interestingly. Most Sapi are hot. Conjecture: perhaps a Sapi Parasite or Sapi Blocker prevents your true strength from flowing?"
Confusion lanced through Raxri again, which they quickly banished with indignation''s mace. They said: "You know nothing. Leave and I will spare your life."
The man grinned widely, showing off white teeth. "Ha! You dare speak to me in such a way, when I am your superior? Truly new cultivators forget their etiquette! Would you speak in such a way to a god? Of course not! Why speak to your better in such a way?"
"I will cut you down where you stand nevertheless."
"Tell me your name," the man said, grin now turning into a defiant challenge. "So I might find out if you can."
Raxri shook their head. They did not move from their spot: for them, it felt like it was against compassionate principles to strike first. So they did not strike. They focused on waiting for the next attack.
"Quietude has seize you, eh?" The man dashed forward. The next instant, he was before Raxri again, fist in front of Raxri''s face. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Raxri was too slow now to block it.
"Big mistake," whispered the man, and their fist slammed against Raxri''s cheek.
Raxri flew back, skimming across the ground, spinning in the air, tumbling to a stop and crashing into a nearby abandoned house. The house''s roof and porch groaned, creaked, and then fell down. None upon Raxri, however.
Raxri winced when they came to. Their Sapi was still strong, of course. But now their face was horribly bruised. They had turned their head away at the last second, so only their left cheek would be bruised. All their cultivation must have made their bones stronger as well, for other than the throbbing ache, they felt no broken skull fragments or cheekbones. Or perhaps it was the work of the tattoos? A burgeoning latticework of magickal working?
Groaning, Raxri rose to their feet, pushing away the pieces of debris that fell upon them. They walked out of the rubble, Puksa at the ready, flashing, glinting in the light. They concentrated on their breathing, meditating upon the flowing winds rushing through them, carrying their Sapi to where they need to be.
"You are young, yet... your Sapi..." the jade beauty raised his hands again. "Who are you, truly? And what have you done with this here village?"
This one''s strong. They matched me blow for blow with nothing but their fists. Their empty hand art proves to be powerful. I find no weaknesses I can exploit. And agh, fuck, my cheek fucking hurts.
Do I tell him the truth? Raxri was wracked with conflicting thoughts. How were they getting out of this one?
Sighing, Raxri chose to take a risk. They said: "I''ve come to this village to liberate it from the sorceries of Chief Dulumnan, who held the Mindstreams of Iri Village in thrall and kept them reanimated, arising every night. The Chief Dulumnan needed to be appeased," Raxri said. They shrugged: "I suppose everyone does, in the wake of the Invincible Blade Maiden''s Devastation."
The man narrowed his eyes. "So, what be you... an Exorcist? A Pureblade, perhaps? A Shaman, a Priestess, a Ritualist?"
Raxri shook their head. "Just a cultivator, as you''ve said."
"A warrior that has managed to quell the Chief Dulumnan?"
Raxri nodded. "I''ve sent them into the Interstitial, where their karma will bring them to the next world." Raxri only bore a slight familiarity with the word Interstitial, but they deemed it fair to be said here, and so they did. I will have to ask Akazha what that is.
"Interesting. And as a Cultivator, you are not afraid of the certain karma such a thing incurs?"
Raxri''s heart beat. They breathed to quell it. Silence their anxieties. "I will perform austerities and rituals later. All my doing is in service of the Law and of the people. Every poison can be turned into medicine. Every thing can be used as skillful means."
"Ah so you are of the Esoteric Vehicle," said the man, smiling. "Interesting. Killing beings will weigh you down, you know."
"I do not endeavor to kill, only to protect," Raxri barked back. "Yet, some things must be done. Even if I shall walk a thousand years through blistering blue lotus hell, it will have been worth it if I have saved a hundred more."
"You must have come from the monastery upon Mount Jura," said the man. Raxri did not respond. "And yet your head is not shaved, which means you did have not taken the vows. How interesting. An upasaka?"
Raxri allowed their patience to run short. "State why you trade blows with me. I seek no quarrel."
The man straightened and then bowed with a heart reverence. "I am Batan of the Violet Lotus, Errant Knife of the Night. Cultivator of Devotion to the Unconquerable Maiden, Goddess of Death. Practitioner of the Razor Hand Way, Monkey Leaping Style, and Shadow Shrike Blade Art. Cross me at your own peril." Batan of the Violet Lotus took on a battle stance, both hands flat and bladed, feet in a stable stance, one foot stretched out to be able to push and pull at a moment''s notice. "Now, it would be mighty rude of you not to announce yourself either."
Damn. What an entrance. Do all martial artists need resplendent names such as that?
Raxri took on their battle stance with Puksa. Blade on their opposite blade, ready to launch, always a chambered strike.
ANNOUNCE YOURSELF. ANNOUNCE YOURSELF.
"I-I am Raxri Uttara--" and from that Batan''s face already turned into a confused scowl. Raxri pushed on. They must announce themself. "--Cultivator of the Anantadharma, dancing upon the Adamant Road. Practitioner of the Whorl Hand, Light Body Technique, and the Adamantine Sword. I commit all my cultivation to loving-kindness for the entirety of the Trichiliocosm. Until all beings are free."
"I have heard of you. Whispers among the Black World... that a certain Uttara walks again. A revenant in truth. A broken one. One who has been reduced to nigh nothingness and has lost all memory. You have an epithet, you know. They Who Danced Against The Heavens."
That title. Is that not the title that Silver Wind Witch Dog called me? Is it truly my epithet?
"But based on your performance here, you have done nothing exceptional," said Batan, shrugging. "I think I will kill you and take your Sapi. No doubt the strength I will attain will be significant."
"The Unconquerable Maiden... who is she?"
"Death Goddess," replied Batan. "Lady of Endings, Turner of Life''s Wheel. She has all in her Maw, for she is Time. And time Ends All Things. Through her one realizes that all of reality is tremendous violence. Living is tremendous violence. Being kind is tremendous violence. Now, perish softly and kindly." Batan flicked his hand in a wide arc, and shadow spikes coagulated in mid air following that arc. With a whispered mantra, the spikes shot forward like bullets.
Scowling with effort, Raxri used their Light Body Technique to flitter and dodge out of the way, but the needles were too fast. Raxri was impaled from their left shoulder and down the length of their left arm, and even parts of their left thigh. They fell to the ground, tumbling. With concentration, Raxri managed to kick themselves into a stand. They tried to move their left arm and found that everytime they moved it, nigh unbearable pain shot up that arm.
Curses. Raxri pulled out the needles and they came out easily. Thankfully, they were no arrowheads that stayed embedded within the flesh. They tried to pull each needle out as fast as possible, but when Raxri looked up, Batan was already upon them.
A ten hit combination of fist blows, ending with a kick that knocked Raxri to the air.
Puksa was on the ground.
Batan leapt up and unleashed five more blows, with the last one a heel kick sending them crashing to the dirt ground. Raxri cried out, both in pain and in surprise.
The good news was that the needles were all out. The bad news was that Raxri''s bones groaned, creaked. Adrenaline and Sapi running through them, Raxri rolled out of the way just as Batan summoned a lance of blackness through their bladed hand and sent it penetrating into the ground.
Kicking up, Raxri loosened themselves--now covered in blood, their own. They grasped Puksa, unleashed their own mantra and hand sign, and then sent five slashes of light flying towards Batan. "Heavenly Lightning Saber!" Raxri announced.
Batan saw it coming and immediately used their Monkey Leaping Style to leap and dodge and weave the slashes, which seemed to arc and move around to follow Batan''s movements. The only way Batan could avoid the slashes were to let the slashes cut and dissipate into cover: he dove behind fallen rubble, the spire, and boulder.
When the last of the slashes were gone, Raxri was already upon him, eyes burning bright, tattoos glowing dimly.
They announced: "Adamant Lightning Strikes!" Raxri unleashed a 15-slash combo, each one filled with the strength of their Sapi. Batan put up a desparate defense, managing to block a good chunk of the attacks, but being struck by the majority of it.
"Maiden''s Tits, you''re quick!" They crouched down to avoid Raxri''s last horizontal strike, twisted, and then kicked Raxri into the air. Raxri managed to turn around at the last second to mitigate the damage of the kick, but the force sent them into the air anyway. "Yet, witness!" Batan of the Violet Lotus performed five hand signs to focus their Sapi and summon esoteric energies, and then cried: "Shadow Shrike Blade: Thousand Screaming Razors!" He outstretched his last hand sign, pointer, middle and pinky fingers outstretched at Raxri, and a myriad of black needles coagulated behind him. By stretching his ring finger, he sent the summoned myriad needles toward Raxri in the air.
Quickly! What now...! Raxri followed their instincts. Even here, they focused all of their Sapi--which they felt quickly dwindling--to concentrate on using Heavenly Lightning Deflection on their live hand, and then unleashing Adamant Lightning Strikes with Puksa. With those two in tandem, Raxri deflected the myriad black needles, shattering them and sending them bouncing ineffectively.
"Annoying pest!" Batan of the Violet Lotus performed another hand sign and imbued his hands with violet Sapi. Then he leapt up using Monkey Leaping Style with the speed of a bullet, and sliced through Raxri.
Even using Heavenly Lightning Deflection, Raxri''s right side was sliced through, ripping open a deep wound.
In mid-air, Batan spun, sending another heel kick straight into Raxri''s back. Raxri shot down to the ground, slamming first into one of the hardwood rubble before bouncing and slamming into the earth.
Raxri found their limbs failing them. They tried to move. The pain was so unbearable it barely registered.
This is it. The end of Raxri Uttara, once again. Why must they keep facing enemies more powerful than them? Why cannot they meet someone of same power? Raxri lamented this sad state of affairs, but there was nothing to lament in the pure blackness of no-sense.
Batan landed on the ground swiftly but lightly. Spreading his hands, he said: "An expected outcome." He raised his hand across his chest and summoned another black feather needle from his fingertips, poised to throw with a backhand. "Now time marches on. Heaven shall move without you."
He flicked his wrist. The black needle flew toward Raxri. [1.45] Heaven Moves Without You
O gods, o monsters, grant me the perfect wisdom. The unclouded luminous mind whispers to me. Therefore allow me to leave, set my heart ablaze Offer me the chance to blow you all away. My path is that of the Road of Revolution, The Way of the Worker, hand gripping the grass blade. Whispering: Enlightenment Is A Direction. Gleaned through toil in this wretched world of Wandering. With my blade of broken dreams, forsaken, forlorn, Grant me the strength and vigor to tear apart the House of weak bamboo and wood built by kings and queens Only by love and fire can we snatch the world away-- --from the Jaws of Certain Doom, the curse of progress. The World Before clings, all suffering is craving. Wield the Handleless Blade, bleed for Liberation Beyond Liberation, Love all through Revolution. A Song By Asing Rato Sangtanara
Raxri shut their eyes. This was it. The end of all things. Their third death, now. They had pushed their luck for far too long. They were not giving up, they were accepting their fate. Better luck in the next life, Raxri said. Where I won''t make any mistakes. They pooled their Sapi so that their power can transfer across the Interstitial, the Pillar of Kings. Until all beings are free.
NO. RELY ON ME AGAIN. THERE IS STILL TIME. MOVE. MOVE. WALK. RAXRI UTTARA. MOVE. Was this... their Killing Intent, speaking again?
I''m so tired...
YOU''RE JUST HUNGRY. YOU''RE ALWAYS HUNGRY. REMEMBER THAT. MOVE IT TO THE SIDE. LET ME TAKE CARE OF IT. BE WHO YOU ARE ALWAYS SUPPOSED TO BE.
Raxri sighed. It was right, however. Die on my feet rather than on my knees. No easy way out. The only way out is through. Raxri nodded. They pushed themself to their feet.
The black needle skewered through the air.
The sound of a taut drawstring released.
Kamiro''s lance of light cut through the black line of the night dagger.
Raxri turned their head just enough to see Kamiro standing atop a broken pillar, once a part of a roof of a stilt cottage. "Leave." Their arm that had been cut off was now a consolidated bow of puredark.
Batan of the Violet Lotus scowled. Sighing, he turned to Kamiro and said: "Ah, you are the sole survivor of Iri Village, are you not? Kamiro of Iri. The Lance of Light. A hundred years old. You''ve stopped aging due to your Bow Cultivation."
"And I will not hesitate to use my Bow Cultivation upon you."
"Your Bow Cultivation is not as strong as you''d like... meaning you could not stray too far to search for relics. You are bound to this place."
Raxri found their voice then, harnessing all their willpower to speak. "No longer!"
Batan, shocked look upon their face, turned to Raxri.
"No longer," repeated Raxri, fighting through stutters. "He is freed from the binding of their dread chief Dulumnan. Let him be free! Kill me instead."
Batan smirked, but then Kamiro unleahsed another lance of light from their bow.
it skewered through Batan''s shoulder.
It tore his right arm off completely.
A minute passed for what had happened to register.
Batan screamed in pain, clutching at the stump his shoulder had become. "You monster!"
"Leave!" Kamiro reiterated, his eyes burning with Sapi. He strained himself now: a low shimmer of pallid green wrapped around him. The color of his Sapi. "Or I will kill you and send you home early to your Unconquerable Maiden!"
"Leave, Batan," said Raxri. "Kamiro is not as kind as me."
Batan roared at them: "You will all regret this very day! The karma of the Unconquerable Maiden fluttereth, a lance in the night!" Batan then pulled out a stone of low shimmering power, and bit into it. He floated alongside the stone; disappeared as a claw of shadow ripped him apart into flickering feathers.
Silence filled the waiting in between, the tense confirmation that this was all over.
Kamiro lowered his bow. He made his way, flitting and leaping across beams and pillars, all the way down to Raxri. "Are you all right?"
Raxri fought through the paralysis to nod, slightly. "The needles. Please. Pull them out."
Kamiro nodded and did that in short order, with quick precision and with a technique that resembled a bowman removing an arrowhead from a comrade. The needles fell
Raxri sat up, wincing. The pain subsided now, but scars and gashes and cuts--and a large slice across his right gut--did not bode well for them. They took the healing gourd from their pack and gulped it down. The relief was near instant, but they needed something to cover their cuts. The majority of the damage was deflected and reduced by their shield yantra tattoos.
"Thank you," Raxri said, to Kamiro, who stood surveying the broken and rundown ruins of his village. "After I dealt with the chief, this is what I came out to."
"The world is colder and the clouds are heavier," said Kamiro. "But I am free. Thank you, Raxri Uttara."
Raxri bit their lip. They reached out and held Kamiro''s hand. "Everything will be okay. Persevere. Bear the burden. But don''t you dear surrender. Your days will be beautiful. If you want, you can perhaps come with me, to Akazha''s home, where you can recuperate."
Kamiro flinched a bit when he heard Akazha, but otherwise said nothing. "I will be okay. After I recover my bearings and I make proper ritual offerings to the spirits here, I will leave upon a boat from Tannum Village. I will find my fortunes elsewhere."
Raxri sighed. "If that is what you will. I wonder, however. Where is the guardian deity that protected this village? Each village has a sanctuary, yes? For this world is a dangerous world of spirits and monsters."
"The guardian deity made a deal with the Dread Chief," said Kamiro, rising together with Raxri. "That he would grant the chief the power to protect his people. But he needed to perform a dread ritual, one that consisted of him consuming the guardian deity. That is how the chief became so strong... but it looks like not strong enough. Not strong enough against you." Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Raxri shook their head. Again, their entire body throbbed with pain. But at this point, they had gotten so used to being in pain that they were quickly acclimating to this new state of being of being in constant physical pain. "Fortune favored me, is all. The Chief was strong in truth."
A silence. A cold wind passed over them, as they watched the spire where the corpse desiccated. What was there left, for Iri Village? Emancipation in death, finally."
"I can feel it," said Kamiro. "The villagers. The beings that were once here, this confluence of mindstreams. They are all gone, no longer screaming. No longer begging for help from me. They have passed onto the next stage of the Interstitial." Kamiro turned to Raxri and put out a hand. Raxri, wincing yet, and chewing on their medicine, took it and shook it. "I am ever in your debt, for helping us. All of us. Perhaps, if heaven wills it, we will see each other again."
"May karma intertwine our strands once again," said Raxri, managing a small smile. Kamiro smiled as well.
In short order, Kamiro walked over to the boundary gate of the village and began performing ritual rites, to make sure that no vengeful spirit arises from the village. He could not spend the time to bury everyone: that would take more than a day, and he didn''t have enough before the darkness arrived and night''s black monsters would strike at him, and so he left it at spreading salt across the perimeter.
At the end, they each said their goodbyes, and then left. It was somewhat bittersweet, as quick as it begun.
"I have nothing to gift you on your journey," said Raxri, apologetic.
Kamiro shook his head. "I will be fine."
"Ah, actually!" Raxri dug into their pack and took out another one of the edible medicines that Doctor Myu Fan had given to them. "Please, take this. This world is a violent one. I would not want you to die to your wounds. Not to say you''re not a great warrior, of course! You are an excellent martial artist!"
Kamiro blinked rapidly. Raxri saw their his watering. After a moment of biting his lip, Kamiro said: "Th-thank you." In the smallest voice possible. If he spoke any louder he would burst into a sob.
Raxri smile never left their face. "Keep safe, always. I''d love to fight you again someday in the future! So until then, keep training, eat well, and don''t sleep too late!"
Kamiro managed a smile now. They wiped their eyes with their sleeve. "I will," he said, smiling. "Thank you, Raxri Uttara. You are kinder than I thought you would be. From the stories I''ve heard, I would''ve thought you would be some sort of ogre!"
Raxri shrugged. What kind of stories are they telling about me? "Well, you know me now!" They laughed. What kind of person was I?
"Stay safe, great Raxri Uttara."
"Your days will be beautiful, Kamiro. Set your heart ablaze."
Raxri found Sungai peacefully grazing on some grass and flowers and some taro. "Wow," said Raxri. "Kamiro fed you well, huh?"
Sungai did not neigh, which meant he was in a particularly good mood. Raxri loosed him from the tree and began leading him down the path. "We should get going, before the giant that Kamiro was talking about attacks us."
Sungai bobbed their head up and down in agreement, and they set out on the path once again.
As Sungai galloped once again across the path that they had left from before, Raxri meditated upon what they had accomplished in Iri Village. Though they had slain a sentient being, they still chanted the Rutra Buddha Mantra to cleanse all of their karmic afflictions. It was for the greater good, though... they thought to themself, but doubt still gripped their heart.
It really is a paradox, a problem. Having to live in such a violent world, where killing something is the only way to prevent it from taking more lives. I don''t have the mental strength yet to turn them to the Law, to the Teachings. And I know for sure that there will come a time I will not be able to do that. Some beings must be killed... But the Precept is to never kill, even those that are evil!
But what greater responsibility is there but to suffer the negative karma from killing a being, when you know that you would have saved a thousand lives from such an act? O, Bodhisattvas help me. I should have asked more questions during my time in the monastery. When will I next find another thunderbolt master?"
Raxri thought that that was the next thing they should do. Find another master, preferably one that could teach them both martial arts and maybe even magick. All they want is to cultivate their strength. In this violent world of mid-calamity, they knew that having strength and power will be one of the only ways to impose your Sapi upon the world. Of course, your will must be aligned with the Compassionate Precepts of the Law... lest it lead you astray and turn you into a demonic regressor who spends eternity trapped in the Wheel.
They meditated until the path took them to the fenced witch hut. Akazha''s hut, once again, finally, again.
The first thing Raxri noticed was, on the far side, thankfully not yet seeing the two of them, was a giant bird-raptor. Their claws were feathered, but a saddle wrapped around their long torso, reins wrapping around their beak. It was beautiful, colored of pure silver with red highlights, as if the bird had been painted.
Then, Raxri looked to the hut and saw an armorclad man. A warrior, perhaps a knight, from the looks of it--unless they had stolen their armor. They were clad in scaled armor, colored silver, adorned with azure and crimson highlights. It made the knight look like a dragon.
In one hand they bore a rectangular shield, which had the grinning face of a time demon god upon it, eyes bulging. In the other hand they wielded a long and slender curved sword. It did not have the broad blade of a longknife, and it was only sharp on one side. This curved sword was kept in a sheath, embroidered with magnolia and civet cat designs. It looked... familiar. A Shennin blade, perhaps?
The man looked fierce. Though they bore no helmet, their eyes were made sharper by bright red face paint. Their long hair was tied up on top of their head, adorned with two beautiful white and red pheasant feathers. He stood a whole three heads taller than Raxri as well. His feet were clad in scaled boots, no way they added any extra height.
A true heavenly general.
Raxri stopped Sungai immediately and turned him to go and hide between the trees and foliage. They both watched from within the shadows of the trees. What''s going on here? This one looks like some sort of commander of an army.
"Witch Akazha Han Narakdag. I know you are within! Come and speak with me. I have a few words for you." His Bazaar Kyapo is weird and choppy. Can he even roll his R''s, and pronounce them as if they were soft D''s?
Raxri watched in wait, but their hand was upon Puksa''s handle nonetheless.
A moment. Commotion resounded from within the hut. Akazha came out, wearing a tight sleeveless black shirt--almost like a combat underarmor--and harlem pants. In one hand she held a sheathed kalis. Her hair looked like it was hastily tied up into a ponytail, and her face was completely bare of paint.
As Raxri watched, Raxri noticed little gods of the wood around them. They crept up on the leaves, branches, and their head and shoulders to watch as well.
Then, Akazha barked something in a language Raxri did not know. Was it... one of the Shennin region languages? To Raxri, it sounded as if she was speaking an alien tongue. It was completely intelligible to them. The sound however, resembled that of a snarling dragon, or a flowing river, or a fierce barking lion.
The warrior man looked taken aback for a moment. He composed himself and said something in the same language. His tone was deep and dark, reverent, speaking in that telltale polite tone. Meanwhile, when Akazha would reply, she sounded like fish vendor aunt shouting out prices for her wares, or yelling at people to buy her trade.
As she spoke, she scratched her head and shrugged. The man said something again, in a more inquisitive tone. Akazha looked up a bit, then she rolled her eyes and pointed up the path--the same path that Raxri had come from.
The man bowed deeply to that reply. He walked over to his giant bird-raptor mount and spurred it into a run. It quickly jogged off, giant powerful claws digging into the dirt of the path, which was slightly wet.
Raxri waited until the man was a good ways away, until they couldn''t hear the thundering steps of the raptor. Akazha walked out into the front of her stilt cottage as well, watching the man walky away. She exhaled, gripping her kalis. As she turned around to walk back into the hut, Raxri walked out with Sungai.
"Great teacher," said Raxri, while Akazha''s back was turned. "Who was the great man you spoke an alien language to?"
Akazha froze in her tracks. After a beat, she turned around and was smiling, despite the heavy bags under her face. Had she gotten enough sleep?
"Oh, Raxri Uttara. You actually came back?" [1.46] Turn The Wheel
The world above is the world of pride and wrath. The world below is the world of avarice and suffering. This world we have now is the world of both desire and enlightenment. To live in a world of suffering is detrimental to enlightenment. To live in a world of pure power, too, is detrimental to enlightenment. To become Buddha, one must bear both Heaven and Hell within you. Only when you understand that your heart already holds Liberation and Suffering-- can one realize Revolution. The Revolution Law Manifesto by Revolving Buddha Kafeng Masangwa
Raxri blinked at that. What did she mean?
Admittedly that was a pretty strange way to welcome home someone that you''d sent off into a monastery. "Think you that I would abandon you?"
Akazha smirked. "I''m glad that you missed me just enough that you never questioned you would return to me."
Raxri walked up to Akazha, bringing Sungai with them. Sungai nuzzled Akazha, and then promptly began walking into his old shed. His own home sweet home. Akazha watched him with happiness in her face.
Raxri said, naturally, without much thought because it didn''t need much thought: "Where else could I go? What home do I have but you?"
A soft pink washed over Akazha''s face. She turned around, away.
Nothing to Raxri, of course.
Akazha said: "I would''ve thought you would''ve stayed there in the monastery and taken on a life of a monk, and complete your cultivation."
Raxri smirked and shook their head. "I''ve decided not to. I have other Cultivation Systems I wish to see. I still have to return to my first master. And I must find out why I am here, shorn of memory, removed from power. Besides, you had only lent me Sungai, not given him to me."
Akazha rolled her eyes. "Sungai will be able to return to me just fine, don''t you worry. All you had to do was let him go." She laughed. A beat, then she said: "I''m glad you returned, however."
A lopsided smirk from Raxri. "Ah, so it was the great teacher that had missed me!"
Quicker than thought: a knee straight into Raxri''s gut.
Raxri fell to the ground, groaning in pain. They had a fresh wound there too! Raxri managed to croak out was: "I-I... a blade impaled me there..."
"Then have a great time meditating upon your pain!" She strode into the house and shut it behind her.
Worry not, however, dear reader. Akazha came out a few minutes later carrying medicines. She helped Raxri to their feet and into the house. Made them sit in the living room table and pulled off their monksrobes.
The witch Akazha quickly applied their healing poultice while they chugged on a pipe. When she saw that Raxri had sustained multiple other injuries, scars, and wounds, they continued to apply healing poultices across all of them, to aid in Raxri''s recovery.
She spent the most time dressing Raxri''s kampilan wound. "A nasty one, this be. Any normal person would have been killed from this, either by pain, or by infection. It almost wounded your liver, even, and punctured your stomach. But you seem to have drunken some sort of elixir to make it heal quicker and keep it clean from infections." Akazha nodded approvingly. "I''ll wrap it in bandages for now. Tonight, before you head to sleep, I''ll dress it with some more healing salves, all right?"
Raxri could only nod, wincing as their wounds finally made themselves known after Raxri had grown ignorant of them.
"You cannot keep trudging on in the face of all these injuries," replied Akazha. "You will only regret it in the end." After she was done patching them up, she offered a pipe to Raxri: "This will help. This one is made of asra seeds and godbugs. It has limited magickal healing properties."
Raxri nodded, still wincing in pain. They took a long drag of the dragon pipe, and immediately felt a relief surging through them. Akazha sat across the table, smoking the pipe as well. She sat silently, watching the window.
Outside the sun was shy and only heat up a portion of the earth. It felt like it was going to rain.
When Raxri found that they could speak again, Raxri asked: "Why did you strike me...?"
Akazha rolled her eyes. "I''m... sorry. I...''
"Master, it is all right. I''ve missed you too! Why wouldn''t you miss me?"
"Shut up!" She barked back, though she looked like she was holding back a laugh. Looked away. She said: "What did they do to you up there in Giant Stone?"
Raxri shrugged. Another wince. "I am not entirely certain either," they said. "But I did recover a lot of my old power during training there. And then some."
"I can tell. A new blade lies upon your hip."
Raxri nodded. They placed it on the table, scabbard and all. They pulled it out, showing the edge of it, the sheen. "It is a long sword I believe. A sundang, I think one of them called it. I used it to slay a demon chief. It is called Puksa."
"Annihilate." Akazha''s eyes grew wide. "That''s what it means." She smiled and said: "Slaying demon chiefs, eh? You have truly climbed up the rungs of the world."
"A long story," said Raxri. "Actually, everything that happened in the monastery is a long story. Nevertheless, I have stepped into the stream of sword cultivation. The Adamantine Sword."
"That geezer the old abbot taught you, huh?" She nodded, pride beaming from her eyes. "That old gurang. Good. I knew he would recognize you."
"Gurang?"
Akazha laughed. "It''s a mean way to say ''old person.'' Don''t use it."
"Ah. Hah. And yes, he did," replied Raxri, taking another puff. "He said that I had gone there around ten years ago, and I was possessed of great cultivation even then... but other than that all my past self did was get the tattoo and learn a bit of meditation techniques, I believe."
"But it is very auspicious," said Akazha. "That you had gone through here. This is not exactly something most people visit. This is eastern Pemi. This is the End of the World."
Raxri nodded. "Right. As I get glimpses of my past, I am only burdened with greater questions. What a predicament. My situation is a mire."
Akazha shrugged. "One thing at a time, Raxri Uttara. Now, tell me, what else?"
Raxri thought, tapping their chin. "Ah, I met the one monk that is the reason for your forbiddance from the monastery."
Akazha stopped a laugh from breaking out. "Ah, Yiwaritala?"
Raxri nodded. "It seems that you remain a touchy subject to him."
"Ha!" Akazha barked out. "A laugh. Yiwaritala is somewhat annoying, you know. I was simply friendly to him, and then he just fell too hard. Now he''s trying to spin it as if I was some sort of harlot. The nerve."
Raxri laughed. "Yiwaritala seemed like a good person, but he did seem a bit fraught at the fact that you almost made him break his monastic vows."
Akazha smiled. "Sometimes, being this pretty can be a curse." She flipped her hair, brazenly, mockingly.
"Ah, and I met a whole host of other monks. Pilinitala, who was a great warrior as well. Ampun Sagara--"
"--the tattoo artist! He has done some of my tattoos as well." Akazha grinned.
Raxri nodded. "Yes. And the Doctor Myu Fan as well."
"Ah, the great Doctoress of Nunuk Vale. She''s nigh peerless, but all that knowledge has made her quite haughty."
"But it is knowledge she puts to good use," said Raxri. "It was thanks to her that our casualties were kept low when we assaulted the Silver Wind Cave."
"Silver Wind Cave? What happened there?"
Raxri relayed the entire events of the assault, the attack of the demon horde, how they almost got killed by protecting a child monk (this solicited an indignant smack from her), how they trained for the Adamantine Sword, how they marched up with a whole battalion of mercenaries and warrior-monks. How they learned that Silver Wind Witch Dog was a servant of heaven. More importantly, that Raxri of the Past had made an enemy of heaven, and now a group of mercenaries, the 108 Glaives of Heaven, hunted them down.
After it all, a cold chill wind ran through them. Raxri noticed that Jikajika was nowhere to be found. Akazha took a breath, nodding. She rose to her feet and walked over to her work desk. "Let''s have some more to smoke."
"Okay."
"Have you eaten?"
Raxri shook their head. "Not yet. I am pretty hungry."
"Elder Jikajika!" yelled Akazha through the window. Jikajika fluttered over to the windowsill immediately, smiling. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
"Yes?--Oh, fabled Raxri Uttara! You have returned. I never doubted you would for a second, but the witch Akazha here constantly lamented about how she was sure you would never come back."
Raxri blinked at that, but didn''t respond. Only tilted their head to the side.
Akazha hissed. "Shh! Raxri is hungry. We still have some left over chicken adobo, yes?"
"Aye, that we do, ye bitchling!" said Jikajika. "Freshly hot as well. Let thine elder prepare the table for thee-and-thee."
Before long, the table was set up with an adobo meal: fresh, hot, and perfectly sour-salty. It had whole red chili peppers in it so it was slightly spicy as well, which only added to the taste. Raxri ate it up, along with white rice and flavorful milk. Raxri did not realize just how hungry their body was! It only made sense, after being on a monastic diet as well as having to train almost everyday for the last few days.
The food did not last long. Jikajika ate with them, and after Raxri had finished eating, the three of them talked over betel nut and dewa smoke. Dewa, Jikajika had said, meant God in Southeast Nilatpa, where the seeds come from.
Then, Akazha told Raxri to relay everything that had happened to Jikajika. Raxri did so, trying to also patch in the details they had forgotten to include. They were able to regale the entirety of the story in a much more efficient manner in this way.
When they had finished, their teeth stained red with the betel nut, smoking pipe and drinking carabao milk, Jikajika sighed. "I see. So the one we have here. This fabled Raxri Uttara... is They Who Danced Against The Heavens!"
Raxri Uttara asked. "Do you know who that is? Do you know what that means?" They spoke now in casual register, Raxri realized. They tried to catch themself, but Jikajika did not seem to worry about it one bit.
Jikajika looked at Akazha, sighed, and shook their head. "Unfortunately, no," said Jikajika, matter-of-factly. They spat a globule of red onto the hole beside the table. "I''ve already told thee, haven''t I? I may be a god in truth but I am a tellurian. As much as I want, I am not privy to the high-concept politicking of the high heavens, of the dancing celestines who lord over the earth. I am just as removed from the knowledge of thee as thou art."
Akazha nodded. "I must similarly admit. You must be a popular name among the spirit societes," said the witch, letting out a cloud of smoke. Her hair was loose now, stringing down her bare shoulders. "But not within my circles. Not here in the End of the World. Still, it is full worrying. You have those mercenaries chasing after you now, yes? The 108 Glaives of Heaven. Ha, perhaps 107, now, after you''ve slain Silver Wind Witch Dog."
"That be a good job, thou hast done, as an aside," said Jikajika to Raxri, smiling. "I''ve heard of the Silver Wind Witch Dog. Terrorizer of Jura Mountain. So terrible his reign has been that even we lowland spirits have heard of his name. And the mountain gods rarely let any of us learn about their troubles."
Raxri tilted their head to the side. "Why is that?"
"Hierarchy of course," said Jikajika, spitting again. "What else might it be, dear one? The mountain gods are closer to heaven. The only way gods from heaven can physically arrive upon the realm of soil is also through those same mountains. It is the abode of spirits, of gods. It is how the earth touches the sky."
"I see." Raxri nodded thoughtfully, before spitting the rest of their betel nut into the hole and then picking up a pipe.
Akazha spoke again: "This world be a dangerous one, you would know, of course. Remember you the armorclad that spoke to me earlier?"
Raxri turned to Akazha. "Yes, master. What about him? Oh, and what language did you speak with him?"
Akazha smiled, puffed out another cloud of smoke. The color was just slightly gold, Raxri realized, and had the faint smell of sandalwood mixed with a note of lavender. "First, I''m not your master anymore. You are now my equal, as I am similarly a student of Wairojashra''s Adamantine Sword. Though I am your superior, I am no teacher, I am no master. I am not a garo."
Raxri tilted their head to the other side, wondering again: "Garo?"
"A precious teacher or master. That is the word in Elder Karitan. Other languages have it as tigtudlo, shifu, sensei, rama, guru, guro, koro, sage."
"Got it," said Raxri, nodding. They''d never heard it used before. All they know is Sage in Bazaar Kyapo.
"Secondly, the armorclad general was, in truth, just that." Akazha pinched the bridge of her nose as smoke billowed from her lips. "A general turned adventurer after taking on your bounty. That means he is one of the 108 Glaives of Heaven."
Raxri''s face became solemn for a moment. So they converge upon me yet. It will not be safe... for those around me...
"Thirdly, I was speaking Putunghua," she said. "The Common Speech of Celestial Shennin Society. While the region of Shen is just as diverse as any other region, Putunghua has evolved as their trade speak, and so it became the tongue of many for the purposes of speaking with each other. It is in general the lingua franca of northern Utter Islands, while Bazaar Kyapo is the lingua franca of the southern Utter Islands."
"I see," said Raxri, nodding again in enlightenment. "If we ever travel north, will I have to learn to speak it?"
Akazha shrugged. "I can speak it just fine. Or perhaps we can find some sort of alchemist or wizard to craft a Translation Stone for you or something of the sort. We''ll figure it out when we have to."
Raxri nodded. "Ah, that reminds me. I was told that the Raxri Uttara of the Past was a wizard as well." They let loose smoke from their lips.
Akazha raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that so? But you''ve forgotten all of that, I can tell. Magick is just as powerful as one''s attunement of the Mind to it. You will need to rememorize and re-study everything you''ve forgotten." A beat, then Akazha said: "Perhaps that is one reason why your memory was torn from you. To weaken you to the ground, to the ranks of mortals. Your muscle memory still remains: that is how the phenomenal body works, after all. So your practice of Violent Systems remains. However, you''ve lost all knowledge of Magickal Praxis due to the loss of your memory, and so you''ve lost all magick."
Jikajika nodded. "Thou must have been one formidable magician, Raxri Uttara."
Raxri leaned back and sighed. "I wish to learn it again. I wish to study Magick. I''ve no recollection of that. Not even my muscle memory can bring it back."
Akazha blew out more smoke. "It will be difficult as well. I am not a garo. And my master is in Blacklight City."
"Blacklight City..." Raxri said. They smiled and looked at Akazha. "I guess that''s where we''re going next!"
Akazha couldn''t help but burst out laughing at that sudden proclamation. Jikajika laughed along with her. "Oh, so you''re calling the shots now here?" She said.
Raxri nodded, innocent smile upon their face. They drank a bit of the tea that they had forgotten Jikajika had brought out. It was real green tea, though it was also infused with some ginger, calamansi, and tsilum herb, a common and popular healing herb in the Utter Islands that could grow almost anywhere. It was known as just tsilum in Bazaar Kyapo.
Akazha rolled her eyes, though the endearment was palpable. "Oh, Raxri." She sighed. "I am due for a return to Master Sutasoma, so we might as well. She must be eager to hear about my exploits and my own progression and advancements. Just like you are so eager to tell me about yours."
Raxri''s eyes lit up. "Do you think Master Sutasoma will take me in as well?"
Akazha smiled. "You never know with Master Sutasoma. She is all at once fickle and too strict. It is always a journey with her, and I don''t exactly mean that in the best way. Yet she is my master all the same. All the good mystics and wizards are always fucked up in the head, one way or another." The way she said it was packed with longing.
At the back of Raxri''s mind they knew that being in such a place might grant them a better chance of staying safe, knowing now that heaven itself conspires against them. Their grin slowly faded as they sipped on their tea, wondering what else they could do. Akazha was in truth the only real friend they had, in this world. Other than the folks back at the monastery.
The impulse to go on alone, to save others from heaven''s wrath, lingered within Raxri''s conscience.
Akazha sighed. "Looks like we''re heading to Blacklight City. But first, a few days of rest for you. No doubt that you''re tired from all the traveling."
Raxri let out a tired breath. "I truly am. This world... we do not belong in it. A dangerous realm of voracious spirits and gods and ghosts..."
"Blame thee the Invincible Blade Princess, who began the Decades of Carnage," replied Jikajika. "Hingsajagra--that is, this violent wheel--is our world, you know. The world of spirits, of gods, of monsters. Just like how the gods own heaven. You humans are simply tenants and renters of this land. You cannot fathom the length we''ve been here, it is too much for your mortal brains. And so when the Invincible Blade Princess with her blade of Ultima Ego set about to shattering and destroying the very fabric of this earth, not only were the monsters agitated, but so were all the spirits societies forced to take upon their wrathful visages. The only way to stay safe in this world..."
"...is through Guardian Spirits and Tutelary Deities, to create sanctuaries." Raxri finished. "I can tell."
"This is a violent, bleak world, Raxri," said Akazha, releasing more smoke into the air. "Even more so in this Realm Belligerent of Martial and Magickal Artists. The normal world was already fraught, the Realm Belligerent is a world of hungry cultivators competing, always trying to win one''s Sapi from each other."
Raxri nodded in agreement. They could definitely see that. They regaled the story then of Iri Village, of Kamiro, and of Batan the Violet Lotus, that follower of the Unconquered Maiden. How they fought and how they liberated Iri Village through the slaying of the Dread Chief Dulumnan. It had gotten long, and when Raxri finished their talking they realized the sun was orange now, and low, about to dive into the Horizon Sea.
During the story, Jikajika had refilled their bowls with white rice and more adobo. When he returned, the little god said: "How delightful. You have gone through a slew of adventures on your own already!"
"Iri Village, huh," said Akazha, leaning back and drinking tea. "That''s interesting. I''d always thought they were completely fine. Looks like you caught them at just the right time. How serendipitous."
"Or," said Jikajika. "Perhaps, a karmic bond of some sort. A confluence. Who knows the vagaries of alaya-vijnana?"
"Yes, yes, all that estoery and metamagick," Akazha said, waving her hand. "But this... Batan of the Violet Lotus. The Acolyte of the Unconquered Maiden. He was not one of the 108 Glaives of Heaven?"
Raxri shook their head. "I think not. They did not announce that they were. All I know is that they were after me so that they can take my Sapi, which seemed to be a true font of power for them."
"Then it is real. It is like the tale of Suentsang," said Akazha. "The reincarnation of Aurum Beetle."
Jikajika nodded. "This be true. Whosoever consumes Suentsang''s flesh will attain immortality, for they were the reincarnation of one of the most powerful cultivators and followers of the Law."
"Did they say that consuming your flesh would grant immortality?" asked Akazha.
Raxri shook their head, they had taken to refill the contents of their pipe. "All they said this time was that eating me would be a huge boost in their Sapi."
"Hm. Then that makes our lives a bit more exciting, wouldn''t you think?" Akazha grinned. "Looks like we have to keep ourselves in peak form, and never let our awareness down."
Biting their lip, Raxri looked at the floor. They realized the heaviness of their existence now, the burden of who they are. "I''m sorry. I endanger you--"
"Nonsense!" Akazha interrupted, followed by a bark of a laugh. "The only way I will get to cultivate as well is if these kinds of things happen. Allow me to accompany you on your adventures, Raxri!"
When Raxri looked at Akazha''s eyes, they could feel a silent pleading behind it. A sadness. Raxri couldn''t pinpoint why they felt that. The eyes were the window to the soul, after all. Akazha''s words and movements were energized and spirited, but at the soul of all things Raxri realized that Akazha hid something that they could not yet ascertain.
Away, for now. At a later time, all things will be revealed, thought Raxri.
Raxri nodded, beaming with a smile. "Let''s do it, master! I mean... Akazha!"
Akazha smirked. Jikajika also had a look of relief on their face. Again, Raxri wondered why, but quickly dismissed the thought when it lead to unproductive thinking.
"But first, you should get some rest," said Akazha. "Feel free to feast for a moment. No doubt they hadn''t been feeding you a surplus in the monastery."
Raxri shrugged. "Just enough."
"Train well. Eat well. Get enough sleep," said Akazha. Raxri smiled--they had said similar words before. "That is the key to loving yourself. By loving yourself, you will love the world. In loving the world, you will love yourself."
"Sage advice dear Akazha!" said Jikajika. "It would do well for all of us to follow it!"
Akazha rolled her eyes, though she still smiled. "And don''t worry about doing the dishes. I''ll handle it for now. You must get your rest. Tomorrow I shall put you upon that road once again."
Raxri smiled again, and a giddy feeling welled up from the bottom of their chest. Like a fire, more golden than normal. A flame that did not scorch, but enliven. Invigorate.
They ate and shared stories well into the night. For a moment, all was all right. For that moment, for that blip in the grand river of time, everything was okay. Everything was all right, and there was nothing else to worry about. Happiness was easily attained there, when conversation became meditation. [2.47] - Flying Self Carving God Flash
In recent times it has become quite significant to be able to articulate one''s ideological platform insofar as its use within the grand stage of history. We are at the End of Time, where the greatest minds clash with not just swords but also words. Only the one that can exercise the most unsurpassable of violence can establish and claim the great Lotus Throne for themself. This is the requirement of Reason. It has been long said that the Lotus Throne will be ever empty. This is true. Only in the beginning and ending of each kalpa can a Lotus Throne be sat upon. Only in the beginning of time, to determine its trajectory. And only in the end of time, to mold the shape of the next world. The Nirvana Dialectic written by Mystic Kafeng Masagwa, Father of the Shennin Revolution
Later that night, Akazha knocked on Raxri''s door as they removed their monks robes. Raxri let her in. She carried with him a large bronze pot, decorated with intricate dragon designs, and filled with dried herbs and leaves. "Oh, good, you''ve removed your top."
Raxri paused for a moment, wondering if they had committed some sort of social faux pas--they were liable to forget those things from time to time after all--then shrugged: "Right. I''d forgotten you were going to tend to my wounds."
"The wound is near your belly, so you''re going to have to lie down. Your liver is stronger now," she said. Raxri acquiesced and laid down back onto their bed. All they had on were their undergarments, a bahag, as it was called in Pemi Island, a sort of kilt-like garment, heavy and bulky, perfect for indoors and the humid hot weather of the Pemi region. It is a garment often reserved for men: women would wear saya, or simply, skirts. More importantly, they were tube skirts that could be pulled up to their waist, their chest, or even over their shoulders.
Raxri''s muscles rippled in the moonlight. A good amount of fat had been layered over it, no doubt from all the eating. This was good, Raxri knew: they needed to have a healthy layer of fat over their body to be able to withstand even more blows.
Raxri watched Akazha mix the wet and damp leaves around with a porcelain spoon in her bronze pot. "What a fancy pot," said Raxri.
Akazha smiled. "It''s an ancient Tongson bronze pot, from the Southern Regions of North Ra-om," said Akazha. "A very old culture, some say the culture from which North Ra-om and South Ra-om cultures inevitably descended from. You can find fragments, potsherds, and other artifacts on both the northern section of South Ra-Om and the southern section of North Ra-Om, betraying that it was once a contiguous piece of land, cut in twain by the Invincible Blade Princess."
"Ah, I see," said Raxri, nodding.
Akazha chuckled. They scooped out a good portion of the poultice and placed it on a piece of white gauze. Then they set to work removing the white cloth around Raxri''s midriff. "You always say that, that affirmation. ''Ah, I see.'' Making another person know you''re listening to what they''re saying."
Raxri blinked. "Are you not supposed to do that?"
Akazha shrugged. "Sometimes you don''t need to. Other people tend to ignore you."
"Or perhaps you''ve been telling tales to people that don''t listen?"
Akazha was silent as they removed the white cloth. The kampilan wound was deep, but it had healed up pretty quickly and cleanly. The pink flesh betraying skin that would inevitably scar. Akazha muttered: "Damn that Myu Fan, her elixir is near magick."
"Healing magicks must be common in the Utter Islands," thought Raxri, pondering on the nature of violence.
"Yes, well, they have to be. When the technology that drives progress is the Blade, then there would be a surplus of wounds that must be healed. The original magick has always been that of healing and medicine." She thought for a moment. "But supranatural healing is rarer, much rarer. While there have been major advances in the field of medicine, to the point of the mastery of surgery, therapy, anasthetic, and more, true healing magick is hard to find. True Healing--that is, that which ignorers the natural regenerative capacity of the human body--is the purview of Mystics and Wizards and a few rare Holy Doctors. It requires years of meditation and practice. They are few and far between: the rising need for medicine has created a need for easy healing to be available, and that is simply not possible with the training it requires to be a Mystic Healer."
"But the Doctor Myu Fan...?"
"She''s no Mystic," said Akazha, stern-faced. "But her elixirs and her healing gourds are of the highest quality, from ingredients found from ancient wellsprings around the world. She''s an adventurer as well, you know. Traveling across the world not for treasure, but for reagents and ingredients for her elixirs. She''s like a serpent, in the sense that she hordes great treasures of healing ingredients in some secret place that none of us know."
Raxri watched as Akazha coated their wound with antibiotic oil. She placed the poultice upon it, and wrapped it tight with the gauze, making sure no blood goes out. Raxri could see the importance of such a practice: even if a wound was fully healed, that would not mean it would not be able to resist infection from entering it during its accelerated healing process.
Akazha looked at the tattoos now upon Raxri''s hand and biceps, near their shoulders. "Your tattoos are strong. They reinforce your body constitution with supranatural symbolic yoking. Ampun Sagara truly is a great tattooist. These kinds of yantra tattoos are not common, you know. Only a few truly practice them, and even fewer are masters of them."
"It is serendipitous then that I awoke near a place that housed a disciple of yantra tattooing," said Raxri.
Akazha smirked. "Truly you are of a favored karma."
Akazha looked up and her eyes locked with Raxri. Raxri kept their eyes on Akazha, and Akazha tried to keep ahold of the gaze as well. Maybe out of some weird sense of competitiveness, or perhaps Akazha was trying to find out what Raxri was thinking. Raxri, on the other hand, was watching simply because they were thinking that Akazha was going to ask them something.
She broke off the gaze first.
"Your wounds are fine now." She coughed. Cleared her throat.
Raxri blinked. "Are you okay?" they asked.
She nodded. "Fine. Just a bit tired, is all. It is pretty late at this phase of the night."
"Right," said Raxri, nodding. They looked down on the dressed wound. It was bloodless, now. The room smelled of the antibiotic oil that had been placed upon it. Fragrant, pungent but not a bad odor. Strong, hot to the nose as Raxri inhaled. Felt like camphor, a mix of sandalwood, like a really strong incense stick paste. "My erstwhile master should rest, soon."
"I am not your anything, Raxri Uttara of the Present," she turned and flicked Raxri''s forehead. "I am just Akazha Han Narakdag of the Mystic Fires. Do well to remember this, got it?"
Raxri smiled and nodded. "Right. Of course. Akazha."
"Why do you smile?" asked Akazha as they cleaned the bronze pot and covered it again. Strange geometric shapes that formed caricatures of dragons and lions fit together to seal the pot.
"It feels as though I am meeting you again, for the second time," said Raxri.
Akazha sighed. "Well, if we are to survive together, especially as we travel to Blacklight City, then it is important we have a good foundation for our relationship."
"What is our relationship now, great witch?"
Akazha paused. She smirked, turned to Raxri. She caressed their cheek for a soft moment, and then said: "Rivals."
Akazha left Raxri alone to their thoughts for a few moments after. They felt their cheeks, their neck, their entire body burn up, hazing, fuming. They couldn''t control their emotion, skewering through them as if they were a pig roasting on a fire. Raxri squirmed uncomfortably, thinking of what Akazha had said.
Rivals? That thought excited Raxri more than they thought it would.
The next few days flew by. Raxri was barred from any fierce physical training until after four days, finishing an entire week of healing. Sighing, Raxri acquiesced. They spent this time mostly sleeping--they realized that they had needed much more sleep than they thought they would. They slept at a minimum of 12 hours a day, only waking up to eat. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
By the third day, they contracted a slight fever. They had to stay down for most of the day, and had to eat chicken porridge (lugaw as Akazha and Jikajika called it) to recuperate. The chicken porridge was delicious too, and immediately lifted Raxri''s mood. The taste of the ginger mixed with the somewhat saltiness of safflower (kasubha, noted Jikajika), were enhanced exponentially with a mixture of ground peppercorns and lightly spiced fish sauce. This was all mixed with a healthy dash of soy sauce.
The day after that, Raxri had been healed. They were allowed to do some physical activities, and so Raxri performed some light aerobics and calisthenics, which helped the flow of their Nihawa about. "Making sure your Nihawa are unhindered and properly delivering Sapi and strength to the Meridians in your body is crucial for cultivation," said Akazha, watching Raxri workout as they read on a long palm leaf manuscript.
"What do you read, witch Akazha?"
"Hm? Oh, this? Can you read it?" Akazha lifted up the cover of the book. It showcased a wrathful deity looking like a cross between a bulging eyed lion and a dragon, opening its maw. Within its maw a mandala. Written on top of it, in a script Raxri could surprisingly read, was: TREATISE ON ENTERING THE WRATHFUL MANDALA in Bazaar Kyapo.
"I can," said Raxri, surprised with themself. They read the title back to Akazha.
Akazha nodded. "I see. So you can read. Fascinating. Go ahead, continue your training," she said, puffing out a pipe and then sipping on tea. "You need to, if you want any chance of reaching my level."
Raxri smiled defiantly. They went back to stretching, balancing on a bamboo shaft that they had stuck into the ground. Raxri used a mix of their Light Body Technique with their own Body Dynamics so that they could perform a stretched handstand atop the bamboo pole.
After a few counts, they dropped back down and asked: "Akazha, what is your Cultivation Level?"
Akazha did not look up from her book. "That is for me to know and for you to find out, Raxri Uttara."
Raxri let out an exasperated breath, and went back to training.
By the sixth day, Akazha called Raxri to their old training place, by the stream. At this point, Raxri physically felt stronger and more stable, even as their wound continued to heal. "That wound will take at least two more weeks to heal," Akazha had said. "But you should be functional by next week."
At that point, Raxri was in their training garb: a simple pastel blue sbai, keeping her shoulder, armpits, collarbones, and midriff bear. Then, a billowing white sarong decorated and embroidered with floral pattern. Cloth wrapped around her hands, wrist, and feet, providing adequate protection for each. She wore her hair in a tight chignon atop her head, so that it never moved no matter how fierce her and quick her own movement was. Raxri had forgotten how small Akazha''s face looked, especially in conjunction with her long knife-sharp ears.
More strikingly were Akazha''s lines and lines of mystic script and esoteric geometries running up and down her body, forming into veritable flower mandalas. The writing felt similar to the esoteris sections of the mantra booklet that the Abbot had given Raxri. Akazha walked around covered in magick spells and prayers. A walking yokess of esotery, hands reaching inward toward enlightenment.
Raxri wore clothes that Akazha had bought for them when they traveled out to Tannum Village. "I knew it would be pretty on you!" said Akazha as she did her stretching. Raxri managed a smile. They saw themselves on the bronze mirror in their room after putting on their clothes. A light long-sleeved silk jacket of indigo (Raxri thought: Had she known about the color of my Sapi?), baggy silk trousers decorated with the color of flame, dyed to be as black as pitch, reed sandals that were tied around up the ankle, and then fitted with a hardwood sole. The silk-jacket only reached Raxri''s upper midriff, creating an interesting silhouette, accentuating Raxri''s now toned abs.
"I do look pretty great in these!" said Raxri.
"That should be your signature look," said Akazha, grinning, as she finished her stretching. She performed three mudras, and then pulled her kalis from a sheathe of light in the air.
"I still have yet to learn that," said Raxri, pulling out Puksa from its sheathe. They threw the sheathe down so that it embedded itself standing into the earth.
"It''s because it''s a magick spell," replied Akazha. "Not something I learned from Adamantine Sword. Now! You''ve been trained in the ways of the sword now, eh? Time to see what you can do!"
"So this be a sparring session, eh, master?"
Akazha nodded. As she stretched, Raxri realized the lithe and toned muscles that now also rippled under her skin. She hasn''t been slacking off, that''s for sure, thought Raxri. I wonder what kind of training she''s been up to while I was away... "And don''t call me master," said Akazha. "We''re student-to-student, now. Let''s respect real and actual masters, all right?"
Raxri nodded. Though, no matter what you do, I won''t be able to remove the stain of respect I have for you, witch Akazha, for saving me and teaching me what I needed to survive.
Akazha exhaled. As she did, she burst forwad, her kalis glinting in the sunlight. An omen, a sign. Raxri stepped diagonally to the side to avoid the thrust, deflecting it away from their center, and then immediately unleashing a flurry of blows--
--that were met with a flurry of deflections from Akazha. They exchanged a number of blows for a few rounds. Raxri struck with undeniable speed, striking and speeding through the techniques of the Adamantine Sword. Akazha struck back just as quickly, parrying away, and even using a telekinesis spell to manipulate her blade so that it floated about here, spun in front of her to parry hits. Raxri was fighting to express their newly trained skills, Akazha was fighting to show off. She hadn''t been able to, when Raxri was less-trained. No doubt for fear of harming Raxri. But now that Raxri was able to deflect even dangerously close strikes, both of their strikings and grapplings became surer, more confident.
Raxri managed a solid pommel strike into Akazha''s bare gut, empowered by Devastating Red Hand. The force sent Akazha flying backwards, but her control of her Light Body Technique was immaculate, and she landed on the ground like a feather.
Both of them lowered their battle stance. Leaning forward, like fighting tigers. "Not bad," said Akazha, smiling. She twirled her kalis, and then let go mid-twirl so that it spun around her. "Don''t hold back."
Raxri let go of an exhale. They had been holding their breath all this time. They had to keep meditating. Our cloud-headed warrior began panting for air. "I''m not."
"You can move faster than that, I''m sure! Show me the skill that could slay the Silver Wind Witch Dog."
Raxri shook their head. "I had help from two other Cultivators that were of a much higher stage than me!"
"Excuses!" Akazha performed a mudra with two of her hands, clasping them together into hand signs. Then, with an utterance of a magick spell, two more kalises materialized out of purelight from the space between her hands when she pulled them apart. With a thwip of her hand the three kalises spun around her, moving as if on their own. As if she had two extra sets of invisible hands that wielded the weapons for her.
"That''s not fair!" yelled Raxri, in between breaths.
"If you are not pushed," replied Akazha, her grin widening into an almost devil slasher smile. "Then you will never know if you are going up or down! Stand your ground! Set your heart ablaze!"
Akazha rushed forward, and Raxri did not want to be caught in the backfoot. The Heaven Dancer rushed forward as well, sword chambered to their side. They clashed in the middle of the stream, sending clean pure water into the air as their blades clanged, and they found themselves past each other.
They turned and clashed again, this time locking into melee. They clashed so strongly that sparks flew from their blades. Raxri was scared Puksa would shatter on them, but they saw Puksa holding their ground, as strong as a pillar of heaven.
Raxri concentrated and exhaled: they allowed their Sapi to flare about in every direction, carried by their Nihawa. A small ember of indigo fire blazed from their eyes. Their movements quickened--as they needed to be able to move in every direction, blocking and parrying three different swords dancing in and out, like bladed dragonflies.
Raxri was actually doing more than just moving fast enough to parry them: they were harnessing their strengthened meditational prowess to be able to expand their awareness to a small 1 tail bubble about them, making it so that they could predict the swings and arcs of the incoming three blades. Using this information, in conjunction with their greater concentration, Raxri wove movements that parried two blades at once, or both striking and defending at the same time, or avoiding a biting thrust while deflecting two slashes from the other two blades.
Akazha found an opening yet, her own eyes blazing a bright azure, the color of the zenith sky on a cloudless day. She caught one of her swords, sparking with embers as Raxri deflected it, and then spun and cut into the opening she saw, three movements early.
Raxri twisted desperately, changing the trajectory of their Adamant Lightning Strikes into an upward Heavenly Lightning Deflection. Akazha, still grinning with adrenaline, allowed that sword to be flung to the sky.
She commanded the two other blades to turn and skewer Raxri.
The sword that spun in the sky also found its invisible hand steadying it, turning its bladepoint to Raxri, and the sending it flying straight down like a devil god comet.
Thinking fast, Raxri''s next movement was a wide slash positioned diagonally towards the ground. They turned that into a Heavenly Lightning Deflection: they jumped, wielding all their Sapi to do so. Puksa struck the ground...
...and with Raxri not tethered to the earth, the force of the powerful swing sent Raxri flying backwards and up, tumbling in mid-air. The three swords only skewered each other, creating a twisted star of steel, and then falling to the ground, useless.
Raxri somersaulted in the air and landed on a bent over bamboo branch, maintaining their balance with Light Body Technique.
"Hm! You parried the earth! Your creativity abounds!"
Raxri could not reply. Their breaths were ragged as fatigue enveloped them.
"But I suppose this is the end," said Akazha, her grin now a satisfied smirk. Raxri would have been offended if they were a lesser person, but Akazha''s eyes glinted bright azure. She was enjoying this. "You must forgive me. I have not been able to show you any new Adamantine Sword techniques!"
Raxri shook their head, as if to say: "No, that''s all right."
Akazha smiled. "Let me exhibit one" Akazha summoned another kalis out of a sheathe of light, taken from one of the sun''s rays that beamed to their side. Then, they spun, and threw the sword. It flew forward, bladepoint first to Raxri, cutting through wind and gravity to pierce at Raxri.
Raxri, scowling in effort, pushed themselves off of the branch and flipped over it. As they landed on the branch, however, Akazha was there, flickering like Abbot Wairojashra, materializing out of a shimmering vertical cut of reality. They caught the kalis'' handle. Her grin was back, and her eyes were piercingly white against the darkness of the instant.
"Adamantine Sword: Flying Self-Carving God!" And Akazha swung with the force of a 1,000 Ogres. [2.48] Take Your Time
Train well. Eat better. Rest harder. Take your time. It matters not how fast you go, as long as you do not stop. From The Mind Sutra
Raxri raised their hands and blocked the strike. That did not stop the heavenly thundering hammer force sending them flying back and crashing into the earth. Pain blossomed from behind them.
Wincing, Raxri moved to get up. Not yet, not yet! I have to get up. The too-sharp sword tip nipped their larynx when they tried to move.
The smoke cleared. Akazha had self-carved again in front of them. Kalis pointed at Raxri. Three other floating swords all honed in on them as well.
Raxri swallowed. Akazha''s foot slammed into Raxri''s chest and sent them slamming back into the ground, knocking their Nihawa out of them for a moment. "Oof!"
"You truly are naturally skillful," said Akazha. "In just a few moons, you''ve almost caught up to my level, after I''ve trained for a year."
Raxri took that as a compliment. They managed to smile as Akazha bent over them, one arm resting on her knee, posing as if they were some kind of gang leader. "Thank you," said Raxri. They managed a laugh.
Akazha smiled and laughed as well. "See? In terms of proficiency, we are two students only a few moons apart." She took her foot off of Raxri. She helped them up to their feet. Raxri licked their dry lips and refocused themselves, taking time to recuperate their Nihawa. After a moment, they were catching their breath. They could feel the fatigue of it all now.
Akazha took a step back and winced. Bruises formed on her body, there were some cuts on her biceps, and some bruising on her collarbone. "You banged me up pretty well, though," Akazha noted, somehow beaming. "Though I am of a higher Cultivation Stage than you."
"I am constantly ascending," said Raxri, matter-of-factly. "I have to become higher than I once was, in the past."
"Of course," said Akazha, nodding. "Such a conviction will take you far, Raxri Uttara. Take pride. You''ve internalized your training well."
Raxri smiled now. "Thank you..."--they caught themself-- "Akazha."
"Now, I''m sure Jikajika has already prepared lunch. Shall we?"
Raxri nodded.
They made their way back to the house, walking through the now shorter path as the stream has inexplicably risen (the typhoon season has brought stronger winds and thus greater water into every region of Pemi. Inexplicably, with Pemi being in the eastern section of the world means that it is struck both by the Warring Eastern Winds and the World Typhoons). Raxri asked: "Where did you learn such a technique?
Akazha turned to look at them, tilting their head to the side. "What technique? The one where I commanded three swords at once? Or the one where I carved my very being out of the world?"
"Both...?"
"Well," Akazha shrugged. She smoked on her pipe. "The three swords one is simple telekinesis. A practice that can attained either through Magickal Praxis or a Violent System... that is to say, a magical tradition or a martial art. I''ve learned telekinesis in both ways, so I have been able to attain much skill in such a thing.
"Now the Flying Self-Carving God technique is a very rare technique, and it requires at least the attainment of Sword Soul in the cultivation of the Adamantine Sword. I was taught it by a traveling swordsman in the past, handsome and brooding, who was killed when attempting to slay a Thunder God in the End of the World."
"A past boyfriend?" asked Raxri, smirking.
Akazha shrugged. "A fling, as all the others were. As Yiwaritala was. I am not one for commitment, and there are none that have been worthy of such a privilege, yet."
"Ha!" Raxri beamed. What a cool master I have. "How long have you been alive?"
"Around 25 harvests," said Akazha. "But don''t be fooled. The strongest of cultivators live for much longer, and have cultivated much longer. Hundreds of thousands of years. The weakest of cultivators will always have the largest amount of breakthroughs, while the later stages of cultivation always take longer and slower, due to the vast amounts of Sapi you must cultivate."
"Right. I have been told ascending through the Desire Realm is the easiest Realm to ascend through."
"It is," said Akazha. "Especially if you truly focus yourself in cultivation, retreating to hermitages and wilds. Drinking Sapi Elixirs, consuming proper foods, feasting on accumulated Livers... you will ascend through the Mortal State pretty quickly. But it gets harder and harder as one goes along."
"Is attaining this kind of power worth it?"
Akazha stopped walking and Raxri stopped alongside her. She turned and placed a hand on Raxri''s shoulder. "That will be up for you to decide, I''m afraid."
And then she turned and continued to walk.
Back in the house, Raxri could immediately smell the scent of spices and soy sauce that intermingled with the smell of roasted meat. Marinated to perfection. Dripping fat. When they entered Raxri saw that a porcelain plate with chopped up pieces of roasted pig had been placed in tthe middle, seasoned generously with multiple servings of lemongrass and other spices. It smelled immaculate. Beside it was a clay pot of rice. Around the table three porcelain plates had been laid out, and beside each porcelain plate were more clay sauce plates, filled with soy sauce with bits and pieces of calamansi and red chilis in the mix.
Jikajika was already eating, humorously. When he saw the two warriors come in, they raised a hand and said: "Oh! Come, let''s eat!"
"So nice of you to wait for us, Dang HwanHri Jikajika," said Akazha, smiling. She rolled her eyes. They had washed their hands and feet before coming inside.
"That looks delicious," said Raxri, rushing over to their spot on the table and sitting down on their silk cushion. They began scooping out spoonfuls of rice and placing them onto their plate. Akazha came in afterwards after dipping out and cleaning the contents of her pipe.
"Delicious it truly be," said Jikajika, grinning. "I would know. For I cooked it. So it must be."
Raxri took one mouthful of rice and roasted pork and the meat melted in their mouth. Even after they''ve swallowed, they could still taste it on their tongue, in their nose . The savory, juicy taste of pork mixed all the juices that dripped from it made Raxri almost awaken from pure bliss.
"There," said Akazha. "Now you understand that some people can cultivate their skill through cooking."
"I understand now..." Raxri said in between mouthfuls of food. Akazha managed a laugh and ate along them.
"Interesting to think even your memories of how roasted pork tasted like has been scrubbed from you."
After Raxri had slowed down from eating too quickly, they turned to Akazha and said: "Akazha, you said, Hri Jikajika. And the bidaree Vibujja spoke of a Hri Kresshana, the God of Wanton Destruction. What does this mean? I have even said it myself, out of reflex, but I''m not sure I remember where it comes from, and what it means."
Akazha shrugged. "An honorific. Hri is also from Karitan. It means, in a word: ''Noble,'' ''Excellent One,'' or "Great One." Sometimes, ''gentleperson.'' Often, it is only really used for gods and beings that come from such ancient faiths, or those that like the moniker. This is alongside Dang Hwan, which means ''Most Honorable One,'' reserved for kings, queens, high chiefs, and other high ranking officials. Often, though, they really are just used for gods and other supranatural beings. More than often, ser, dame, miss, your excellency, your grace, your majesty, his/her holiness, his/her excellency, and such from Bazaar Kyapo are more than enough."
"And are the equivalents of those spoken in that Trade Shennin language that you told me about?" asked Raxri.
Akazha only nodded. "Good that you''re picking up on these things. They''ll be most useful for when you must speak with folk from the other tribes."
"Things like Hri and Dang Hwan," said Jikajika, after swallowing a particularly large chunk of meat. "Are part of ritual language, more specifically. Language for when dealing with things beyond human ken. Language for performing the various ceremonies and rituals revealed to humans to appease the lords of the land."
"I understand," said Raxri. "Thank you for the revelation." And they continued to eat.
Raxri, as they ate, managed to portion their mind to think and ruminate upon the various intricacies of this land. They have not even left this island of Pemi, they have never even sailed the seas yet, and they are already skewered through with so many mores. The weight of history was unbearable. To survive it, they had no choice but to ride the current.
After they ate, they resigned to some post meal recovery by leaning back and enjoying some milk tea spiced with cloves, cinnamon, and cardamoms. Raxri and Akazha both smoked tobacco on their pipes now, though in small, meager amounts. Just enough for Raxri and Akazha to enjoy the nicotine. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
"Work hard, rest harder," said Jikajika, almost falling asleep due to being so full. "Now this is a true food comatose."
"It was auspicious and meritorious to have trained before eating," said Akazha. "Otherwise we''d be falling asleep."
"I do not get why we get so sleepy after eating so much," said Raxri, half-heartedly, puffing out smoke.
"Thy body digests it yet," said Jikajika. "Higher level cultivators probably digest food more quickly and more efficiently, especially if they are body cultivators first and foremost."
"This world feels like it is built upon the backs of cultivators," Raxri said. A fleeting remark.
Jikajika laughed. "It is built by an interpenetration of all things. No one thing has built the world. Thou would do well to remember this. The first of the cultivators were peasants."
Another moment of silence as they all relaxed.
"Be sure to gather your rest, Raxri," said Akazha. "In few days time we will journey to Blacklight City."
"And of course, I will stay here," said Jikajika. "Enjoying some peace and quiet, finally."
"Ha!" Akazha barked out a laugh. "The holy one will no doubt be inviting gods and spirits that they will encounter during their daily expeditions into the woods and rivers."
Jikajika shrugged. "What can I say? This old bird... I still have the spice."
Raxri laughed, finally understanding what they were talking about. "You two speak of Jikajika bringing back mates? A god seeks that sort of companionship?"
"What, thou thinketh we are all too different from thee and thine?" said Jikajika, with a good portion of humor. "Especially us tellurians, we are captivated by lust and desire yet. This is why we are still parts of the Six Paths, of the Wheel. We are still chained, unlike the Buddhas of the Revolution."
"Right," said Akazha, smiling. "What Jikajika is saying is that gods still fuck."
"And a lot!" said Jikajika. "In much greater volumes than an average human can. The capacity of a godly body is only worn out after they are forcibly killed or after all their godly karma is extinguished through pure existence." They laughed. "But thou now must realize why there are a surplus of demigods in this world. If anything, spirits that are captured and charmed by humans are so seized by desire that they threaten their path along the Royal Road for it!"
"How interesting," said Raxri, wondering. "Do you think I am a demigod, Hri Jikajika?"
Jikajika shook his head. "As far as I know, thou beareth no elements of one. Etheral eyes, silky hair, porcelain skin... thou are shorn of all these things. Ye are born of the dirt!"
Raxri laughed. That was all they could do. But that did make them wonder who their true parents were. And if they would still ever find them. And if they had siblings. Or if they had anything resembling that kind of a family in the first place.
In honesty, it was a harrowing, depressing thought. What if there was no one I could turn to? They no doubt must think I was dead. How long have I been dead, anyway? Raxri forced themself to throw away these thoughts. They would not bring to fruitful thinking. They would spiral into darkness.
Why shouldn''t I spiral into darkness? they thought. The thoughts moved too fast for Raxri to catch. Like an arrow of shadow. Why shouldn''t I sink into this murky pond of despair? If there is anyone deserving to grieve it is me, right? So much has been lost from me, and now so many people are trying to kill me. I should lie down and rot.
Raxri grappled with those thoughts until Akazha said:
"For the next few days I forbid you from any strenuous physical activity. These will be your rest days, and you must carry them all out to the end."
Raxri nodded, feeling heavier than before. "But I need to keep training. Else my muscles and my Sapi will atrophy..."
Akazha shook her head. She was done with her pipe and was staring at Raxri with her hands crossed. Still wearing the bare minimum, her forearms showed off sigilic yantra tattoos that looked like they would form a full mandala if she put them together at just the right angle. "Rest is the most important part of training. It is in rest that one''s muscles grows, one''s Sapi is consolidated, one installs the techniques, one internalizes new ideas and knowledge, one embodies the new spirit created by training. You would do well to keep that in mind."
Raxri exhaled and said, "R-Right. Thank you, Akazha." It made sense, of course. And Raxri was filled with a clear stream of relief as well. They could feel the fatigue creeping up on them, from their feet to their nose. They were already having a hard time breathing at times, if they were just sitting down. And the general temperature of the present time was more or less colder than normal, which meant Raxri felt like they were coming down with a common cold. But I''m sure Akazha has medicine for that. No way she has none.
"Travel to Blacklight City requires traveling to Imos Town through the river barge. Black Light Town itself rests at a small floating island off the coast of East Pemi. You will understand why it is called Blacklight City when we get there. For now, abstain from too strenuous of thought about it."
Raxri nodded, instead now wanting to think more about Blacklight City, instead of dwelling on the pitch black thoughts that they had.
Nevertheless, after the end of everything, they retreated to their respective rooms and decided to sleep.
In their bed, Raxri sat up, clad and protected from the fear of mosquitos and disease spirits thanks to the mosquito net around their bed. The window beside them was only slightly open, just enough for the cold night wind to seep in, intermingling with the winds coming up from between the slats on the floor.
They turned one on of their lotus lights with a touch of their hand. It hung over their bed, within the mosquito net, casting a unique orange halogen light upon Raxri. Their shadows draped the wall as they picked up their mantra booklet and went through it. They began chanting each one 3 times as they went through them. The Great Compassion Mantra, the Rebirth Mantra, the Perfection of Wisdom Mantra, the Luminous Revolution Mantra, the Aspiration Beyond Heaven Mantra, the Realization of Interdependence Mantra, the Black Tala Mantra for destruction of enemies, the Four-Armed Daklaon Mantra for removing all obstacles, and even the Severing Mantra, which was said to be passed down by the Primeval Buddha Airotsana.
All of these mantras they chanted while with the Abbot, but the Abbot never gave Raxri initiation into these mysteries. Only the mantras, the basest level of Empowerment. I should ask Akazha about Empowerments. The Abbot only said it fleetingly during one of my training sessions. Perhaps, so as to not overwhelm me? But I must know, now.
Each of these, they went through, but one mantra Raxri managed to repeat a hundred times: the Luminous Mind Mantra. The mantra that could clear anxieties and troubles, the mantra that quelled the mind. Before long, Raxri felt sleepy as the mantra cut through their anxieties. In that state of tranquility, they sank into their cloth blanket. With their eyes closed, nestled upon the comfort of their bed, Raxri began remembering about those Yokers that controlled their mind and thus attained even greater achievement through it. I should ask Akazha about Yoking as well...
Sleep came to them like the darkness of night. First, the twilight of consciousness-loss. Next, darkness.
The next day, Raxri woke up to the sound of drizzle. The rains have not let up.
Without anything forcing them to wake up, they were feeling their debt of sleep. They chanted a quick mantra, and then lazily and messily made their hair up into a bun--strands falling all about their face--and then put on a sarong and robes, nothing else.
They walked out to the sound of Akazha conversing with Jikajika.
"It will be too treacherous to leave any later," said Akazha, as she wrote something on her palm leaf manuscript. "You know this, elder Jikajika."
"Of course I knoweth this, witch Akazha," replied Jikajika. "That does not change the fact that perhaps Raxri requireth more rest."
"They can rest on the travel there," said Akazha. "Raxri has been hardy. Too hardy, in fact. Have you not noticed? They''ve been handling blows like a carabao handles labor. Steadfast and without complaint. Their endurance is fully refined."
"Must be some sort of muscle refinement technique," said Jikajika, as Akazha blew off some smoke again. "Done by their past life. The present Raxri Uttara definitely benefits from it."
"How funny it is," said Akazha. "That we speak of the past Raxri as if they were a different person, when in fact they are the ones exactly before us right now."
"Thou art observant," said Jikajika. "But what is there that nails them, crucifies them, upon the altar of their past? Whoever the past Raxri Uttara was is no longer they are now. It is up to Raxri to decide what they will now become."
"Good morning, everyone," said Raxri, smiling. They made their way over to the annex so that they could brush their teeth. During their stay, they had been using a bamboo toothbrush to clean their teeth, and then a strange concoction as toothpaste to keep their teeth strong, even as it stained red. "Planning?"
Akazha nodded. "We leave on the next Esara," said Akazha, glancing at Jikajika. Jikajika just sighed and reclined to drink hot coffee from a teacup. Other glutinous rice cakes were laid out as well on the table. Raxri brushed their teeth quickly so that they could return immediately and engorge upon the breakfast laid bare.
"Esara?"
"The first day of the Monsoon Market Cycle, or a Week," said Akazha. "Each moon, or month, has four Monsoon Market Cycles. These Cycles were codified by Lissome Monsoon Trader, a cultivator of trading who traveled to every corner of the Utter Islands and had laborers, peasants, and merchants adopt his way of following days. Five working days: Esara, Lusbel, Raka, Sunran, and Deba. Two rest days: Aree and Wuu."
"I see. And how many months... are there?" asked Raxri.
"Twelve," said Akazha, still writing. "In all. You don''t need to know all of it right now. This world is structured by the gods, you see. Just know that it is the month of the Dog, near the end of a year. Dog Month is the formal beginning of the Season of Air, but seasons always come and go in gradients. The first week of Dog Month is going to still be drizzly, as you''ve already probably noticed. By the next Esara, no doubt the rains will have subsided to make way for the cold and dry winds of the Hoarfrost Monsoon, coming from the Jagged Bladefields."
"I see," said Raxri, chewing on the sweet rice cakes prepared and sipping on the coffee. They were enjoying the variety of breakfasts that were being served here in Akazha''s home, as always. Sometimes the day was begun with coffee, sometimes with tea, other times with rice and cooked bacon. It was a very interesting household. Raxri could only attribute it to Jikajika''s cooking prowess. "Thank you. I will keep that in mind."
"You''ve been able to keep most of what we''ve been saying in mind," said Akazha. "Which is a good testament, I suppose, to your mental acuity."
Raxri simply just shrugged.
Jikajika smiled and pointed at the necklace around Raxri''s neck. The Tristone. "Ah, I''m surprised I did not notice it when thou didst arrive. Thou bear the Tristones, now? Thou hast truly stepped into the mandalas of the Law."
Raxri looked down and nodded. "Ah, right. Yes. I have," they said, touching and caressing the Tristones for a few moments. "Given to me by the abbot."
"Keep it safe with you," said Akazha. "While it is but a necklace, it will help you remember your place in this world, and the precepts."
"I do not yet memorize all the Precepts," said Raxri.
Akazha smiled. "That is well. The wizard Sutasoma who lives in Blacklight City will be able to reveal more of the secrets of the Law to you."
Raxri nodded and said, "I''ve been wondering, Akazha. Are there more... laws? Than the Law?"
Akazha continued writing on the palm leaf paper with her stele. She wrote in large, circular motions. "Other Laws? Well, if you see the Law as a doctrine or holy precepts to follow, then I suppose, yes. There is the Scarlet Order of the Rutra, the Prophet of Love Yenja, there are the Holy Warring of Eolo, there is the Timeless Precepts of Primeval Wisdom, the 36 Tenets of the Gods-Way, the Apotheosis Path of the Ultra Deity, the Manifesto of Sword Communism, the Gun-Ways of Gun Socialism, the Teachings of Utter Ego... there are a large majority of them. You will meet them soon."
Raxri blinked. "Soon? Why...?"
"You are now officially traveling along the Realm Belligerent," she said, shrugging. "I''m sure you''ve heard it. That''s what we call the conspiracy-esque web of cultivators, a world overlaid our world, in which violence is the law as all paths converge. This is the Law of the Wheel, after all. The continued revolution of the wheel of tremendous violence." [2.49] Sutra Concentration
All Buddha are Bodhisattvas. But not all Bodhisattvas are Buddha. [Translator''s Note: This makes more sense in the Elder Karitan. It says: Tan Murat e Muratsatta. Ri tan Murasatta e Murat. Murat is the ancient word for Buddha, in the far west they use the term "buddha." Muratsatta means "Buddha-Essence" or "bodhisattva" in the far west.] Bodhisattvas are, in truth, those with Enlightenment-Nature. That is to say, they are certain to be enlightened, but they have chosen to stay their complete transcension and chose to stay in the cycle of rebirths to help all suffering begins. One popular Bodhisattva, Sinapupunanrupa Muratsatta (Earth Womb Buddha-Essence), pledged that they will stay a Bodhisattva until "Heaven and Hell are empty." If you meet him on the road, give him some food. He is tireless in his compassionate crusade. From The Violence Sutra
Akazha rose to their feet and walked over to their work desk. Ink wells, feathers, blades, steles, paper made of palm leaf, palm leaf, betel nut, three different pipes, bamboo strips with multiple magickal formulae overlaid upon them. A mess.
Akazha took their bronze furnace holder also of Tongson beauty, verdigrised, and placed the paper over it. She whispered. Inaudible. Raxri could not hear. Exhaled sharply and performed a handseal at the same time. A small fire erupted from the tip of the incense stick and swallowed the palm leaf manuscript, ripping it from reality completely.
Akazha turned and said: "Consummation has been achieved. Raxri, rest for today. We will not push you any further. What is important is that you learn how to rest properly and fully. Even now, your Sapi is slightly diminished, as you cannot return to your full capacity without at least three days worth of rest."
Raxri furrowed their eyebrows as they sat upon the chair. "What will I do in three days?"
Akazha smiled. She turned and bent over, pulling out a few palm leaf manuscripts folded neatly into rectangles, bound by multicolored cotton threads. She placed it on the table in front of Raxri. "You can start by reading."
"Reading? What should I read...? What is this?" Raxri looked at the manuscripts given to them. Azure Lotus Scripture. Treatise On The Soul. Treatise on Sapi. The Sapi and Power Sutra. The Wizard Sutra. Treatise On Magick and Supranaturality. "I have to read all of this?"
Akazha shrugged, turning around to pick up her porcelain cup and sip her sugar-infused coffee. "If you want to be able to practice magick as my master Sutasoma teaches it, then you will have to have a good foundational base."
Jikajika snickered. "O, may the gods bless thee with comprehension, cloud-headed one," said the tellurian. "Even these writings be beyond the power us supranatural beings. Thy philosophers truly are some sort of strange breed entirely."
Raxri licked their lips, grimacing as they looked at the books. "Well, I suppose if I have no physical training I have to do during the next few days it wouldn''t hurt."
"You should start with The Sapi and Power Sutra," said Akazha, stretching. They only wore a simple chest band and sarong now, both of a pastel blue color. "That should give you a good foundation on what to expect when it comes to harnessing the Sapi found in every sentient being. Afterwards, moving into Treatise On Magick and Supranaturality or The Wizard Sutra might be good."
Jikajika shook their head. "No, no. Thou must begin with the quintessential Azure Lotus Scripture. It shall teach you the precepts and such of the Law! As well as a quick glimpse into the Cosmos of Hingsajagra."
Raxri rubbed their face. They weren''t much one for reading, so a certain sense of dread crept upon them as Jikajika and Akazha argued over which piece of writing they should read first. At the end of it, Akazha and Jikajika did not come to a concordance of opinion, and decided they had to leave because it was time for them to cook or tend to their crops. Akazha left to gather herbs and other reagents. Jikajika left realizing they had forgotten to close the pig fence.
And so Raxri was left alone with their manuscripts.
Stop thinking so much, they thought to themself. Just do it. Just do it. Onwards. Onwards. Cease hesitation, seize victory.
Raxri sighed. I did not even know I could read, but I can! O, what a curse.
Raxri leaned over and took the Azure Lotus Scripture. They untied the fiber that kept it together and opened it to the first scroll. Raxri saw that it was written in a script that they could read. A thought bubbled into their mind, a remembering? A memory? I should ask what the script is called, because it is being used to write Old Selorongian, a language I understand.
The first few words said: "This is a Text of the Law. Treat it with care, with respect, as a Holy Text can teach much in the same way a Master or Mentor can. Do not throw it around, and do not leave it on the ground.
"Ahom! All ye disciples. Thus have I heard: the Buddhas are those that have attained Revolution! Revolution is that which is beyond understanding, beyond Ignorance and Enlightenment. Greater than the teachings of the Jinadharma. Greater than the teachings of the Anantadharma. Greater even than the teachings of any Adamantine Path. The Azure Lotus is the rarest of lotuses, found only after being struck by heaven-to-earth lightning. It is a lotus that grows in the murkiest of mud, and burgeons only after being struck by lightning hotter than one million vajras. As such, this is the pure law, this is the greatest law. One unattached from the Thus-Come-And-Gone, the greatest impersonal truth that is all at once personal, and beyond the vagaries and dualities of Truth and Nontruth. It is nonconceptual, and so I cannot teach it to you. The only way to Revolution is by walking it. It is the highest Royal Road. It is the Road itself."
As Raxri read, Akazha walked back into the cottage with a rattan basket full of herbs and reagents. Dirt and soil smeared her pale skin, her biceps, her forearms, her collarbones. She was smoking another pipe and had on a salakot. "You should know that if something is a Sutra or Scripture, that simply means it is believed to have been taught by the Conqueror of this kalpa himself. Know you the meaning of a Conqueror, yes?"
Raxri nodded, remembering what Ampun Sagara has taught them. "I do. It was taught to me by the tattooist of Giant Stone Monastery."
Akazha smiled. "Good. I will be out in the kitchen as you read. If you have any questions, hesitate not to ask me or Jikajika."
"I do," said Raxri. "What''s the writing script, Akazha? And what is the language here?"
"You can read it, right?" asked Akazha. Raxri nodded. "Good. The writing script is called Kewa, a ritual script that is still used today but only for ritual and religious purposes. The language is Old Selorong, one of the many languages that has contributed to Bazaar Kyapo."
"Where does Bazaar Kyapo come from?"
"Bazaar Kyapo simply means Lotus Market Speech. It''s a trading tongue, the most popular across Southern Utter Islands, as I''ve already told you." Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
"I see. Thank you, Akazha. Ah, before you go, I would like to ask about two things that the Abbot did not expound to me. If your time is not bound by pursuit?"
Akazha raised an eyebrow. Rubbed her hands with a soft cloth. "Go, then, while I am within this here domicile."
"The Abbot spoke of Empowerment. This be a line he threw off like a dragonfly to the wind, I''m afraid. I''ve no context. What is this Empowerment, and do I require it?"
Akazha puffed on her pipe--she had found it while Raxri asked the question--and tapped her chin. "Interesting that the Abbot had given you Empowerment but not expounded upon it."
"All he gave me was transmission of the mantras upon my scroll."
"I see. Suppose it does follow sense not to overwhelm you with the intricacies of the Law. and I suppose it makes even more sense to teach you the exoteric teachings before the esoteric.
"Very well," she continued. "In a word, it must be known that the Infinite Law is the exoteric aspect of the Law, alongside the Elder Law. Certainty grips me that you''ve been taught of such schisms within the Law?"
"Liberation Law, Infinite Law... one is for the Buddhahood of self, the other is the Buddhahood of all sentient beings."
Akazha nodded. "The Infinite Law is sometimes known as the Great Barge Path of the Liberation Law. It subsumes all within it, nothing is heretical within the Infinite Law. Even the Scarlet God is encaptured within the great tradition of the Infinite Law. In fact, it is because of Scarlet God Worship that the Infinite Law arose."
Raxri said: "I remember Yiwaritala saying this."
"Good. This syncretism has caused interesting things to arise. For example: the Infinite Law emphasizes compassion and loving kindness to others, while the Liberation Law emphasizes more on meditation and treating everyone rightly and correctly. Love is not enough for the Liberation Law, while it is more than enough in the Infinite Law. This schism in truth is not some dualistic organizational thing, however. Some follow one, another region follows the other, but more often than not Liberation Law and Infinite Law adherents mix and match tenets and precepts as according to their material needs. That is skillful means, after all.
"Now some of the mystics and saints of these ideologies have managed to glean deeper, darker truths that are, in honesty, not even needed or required for the Mass Awakening--and therefore, Mass Salvation--of all sentient beings. However, by following the heretic path can one find the greater truth about existence, and therefore, the truth of awakening. Greater mystics and saints employ mystical, magickal means and methods, gleaned through teachings taught to them by the Buddhas themselves, or Bodhisattvas, while they meditated alone, at the nadir of their own life. These beings became known as Sida, experts or mystic masters. Though in Bazaar Kyapo, "mystic" is enough to denote them. They are different from Wizards from the fact that they do not attain Immortality. Instead, through the Rainbow Body, they achieve Limitless Revolution in one life time.
"These beings have then passed down these teachings that come from Primeval Buddha and Ancient Bodhisattvas. These Buddha predate even the Conqueror of this Kalpa. These primeval teachings are the Doctrine of the Conqueror anyway. It is, after all, the Law that reveals itself, as it is not created by a sentient being but rather, arises from Emptiness. These teachings, impossible to be gleaned by the mundane mind, are the Esoteric aspects of the Law. These that are magick and occult. Handily, it must be known that often Cultivators of the Law that compete in the grand world stage of the Black World are esoteric practitioners themselves.
"However, the trouble manifests! The quacks and frauds outnumber the true sida. And so, to show the people the true Doctrine, the true esoteric Law, they passed down their teaching to students. And these students then initiate others into the occultic traditions in the same manner. In this way, this creates a causal link that comes straight back from the true sida, whose teachings and Law come from the Primeval Buddha themselves.
"This act is known as Empowerment. Sometimes it is known as Transmission, sometimes it is known as Initiation. I suppose Empowerment just sounds more inspiring. Now, there are multiple levels to Empowerment, but the lowest level of Empowerment is almost always the Mantra. Soon that will become the Sutra. Eventually, if you wish to continue your cultivation, you might even achieve the Tantra. The Salvation-Device Empowerment."
"I see." Raxri nodded along the entire time. Fixated on new cultivation technology. "I understand it, but I will need some time to properly digest it, I believe. Hinder not your words, however, Akazha: prithee explain to me Yoking."
"The mystical practice?"
Raxri nodded.
"Very well. Ah, but do keep in mind I speak not as a master would tell. I simply repeat the words as they have been taught to me by Ultramystic Sutasoma. So any deeper understanding will not come from me, pardon your Akazha."
Raxri shook their head. "It is of no consequence! Please, I beg."
"Yoking... Where have you heard of such a term?"
"I was taught it by Doctor Myu Fan, who dances down the Yokess'' path. She''s illumined to me the grounds of Yoking. That is, it is to Yoke the mind and therefore gaining powers from that."
Akazha nodded. "I see." She raised an eyebrow at Raxri, and Raxri blinked. "Well, first you must know that Yoking is, in the mystical fields instead of the fields of natural sciences, known as yoga, which comes from Elder Karitan yauga. Yoga means yoking or union. Those that practice yoga are known as yogi or yogini, depending on which they wish.
"Now, yoga is a large field of practices that does exactly that: the control of the Mind. But not just that: even those that yoke the Body.
"The easiest of the Yoga abilities are those that focus on the Body. These are done through bodily movements. It''s exercise, in a way, but it is known as Rupayoga, or Physical Refinement Yoga. Even martial arts arise from this kind of Yoga.
"This Physical Refinement Yoga leads to great physical feats, such as flotation, element generation, body elasticity, and more. At the higher levels, intermixed with Bodhicitta Meditation, these Yogis can change shape at will, without the rituals required of other magick wielders.
"Master Sutasoma has always told me: there is nothing more dangerous and more wild than the Mind. This is why the Mind is often represented as the Unconquerable Monkey, wild and free and full of tricks to control you, instead of letting you control it. Thus why we''ve the story of Sung Ngokhon, the Monkey King, the Victorious Fighting Buddha, Sage Equal To Heaven.
"But even this notion of the Mind arises from ignorance of the true nature of reality. And from that ground of reality, and only from it, can one begin to understand how to yoke the mind. Yoga techniques yoke the mind by manipulating the Vajra Body--that is, the Inner Power, or the Subtle Body, or as we know it now: the Sapi--through control of the Nihawa. Nihawa, as I''ve already told you, flow through the entire body. And by positioning the body in particular ways, can let the Nihawa flow better or into a particular Meridian. Samadhi--that which we call one-pointed absorption concentration--is one form of staying in a meditative state to Yoke the mind.
"There are then even more kinds of Yoking. Azrayoga, or Deity Yoga, wherein you generate a deity within you and replace your form with it. Garoyoga, or Teacher Yoga, which is the attunement of one''s self with your garo, your acclaimed and precious master and teacher. And there are yet more that I''m sure Ultramystic Sutasoma will be more than glad to teach you."
"Is Ultramystic Sutasoma a yogini?"
Akazha nodded, puffing out one last puff and then putting the pipe down. "A dakyogini, a great unionist. You will learn much from her."
"I feel I will. I thank you, Akazha. Forgive this feeble-minded slave of yours for keeping you hither."
She waved her hand. "Silence. No self-cutting will happen here. You are worthy of knowledge. As much as I am. Now go, read. I am full glad that you can still read." Akazha left with her rattan basket again.
Raxri sighed and went back to reading. Seems like I can read ritual script. I suppose there is still some sort of storehouse memory that has been retained within my brain. What a predicament I''m in.
Though Raxri could understand what the words were saying upon the page, they could not get themselves to fully grok, to fully comprehend the words that were being transmitted. The Mind truly was a muscle, and without the refining that they had been doing with their body, their mind could not keep up.
There were some pangs of familiarity as they read: Revolution, Nirvana, the Royal Road... these terms that meant nothing to Raxri but they found as if they should be realizing what these meant. Raxri conjectured that these were whispers, shadows of a past understanding now beyond them, now removed from their grasp.
So many things to learn, thought Raxri, staring listlessly at the page. So many things to relearn. Will I ever be able to do them all, again? I have lost everything, both my Internal and External Cultivations. Whatever armors, whatever violent systems, whatever magick praxes I''ve learned, none of them are in my grasp now. They are no longer a part of me. Will I ever be that Raxri Uttara once again? Was it worth becoming that Raxri Uttara, once again? [2.50] - 18 Bodhisattva Precepts
As the great Dattreya Wairini Twice-Buddha performed entered samadhi upon a white mountain rock, her disciple Attawikah asked: "Garo, please, unveil the light within me. Tell me of nonconceptual thinking." Dattreya Wairini spoke without opening her eyes: "Homage to the garos and the wadzaracharyas. Nonconceptual thinking is known as Waraisip Isip, otherwise No Thought Thought. It is nigh impossible to describe positively the nature of nonconceptual thinking. For to think nonconceptually is to think in terms indescribable. How must I describe it to you? I can only do so in the language of emptiness. Nonconceptual thinking is the thinking in between your thoughts. As your thoughts are the islands, the silence in between is the grand ocean upon which all islands arise from. It is thinking without thinking of anything. It is thinking beyond thinking. To achieve nonconceptual thought, one must be dangerously close to Liberation, but only personal Liberation. If nonconceptual thought is not reached from a grounds of Love, then this is not Revolution. From The Violence Sutra
A thought crossed Raxri''s mind: But now I have the capacity to become better than Raxri Uttara, right? Than the past Raxri. But then again, that Raxri would have been working from a much higher road. That Raxri had far more potential than I do at this current moment. I am swimming the shallows again, I am treading the broken paths once again. I am not in the depths of the ocean of Cultivation like Raxri Uttara of the Past was. Is any of this worth it, then? Can I be salvaged? Can I regain what I once lost?
Raxri exhaled. They continued reading, and their eyes--perhaps serendipitously so--fell upon the following passage:
"Disciples, thus have I heard. Remember my foremost teaching: there are three Paths for dealing with anxieties, sorrows, and all the other almighty emotions. The first path is the Path of Counteraction: when sorrow arises, you must tend to creating the opposite of sorrow, which is happiness, or loving kindness. We reverse negative passions into positive passions, staying detached from them, seeing them for what they are. "The second path is the Path of Ego Death: when sorrow arises, we look deep into ourselves and see the emptiness of mind and, consequently, the emptiness of that sorrow. In the Path of Ego Death, we realize that sorrow is a dependent arising from a series of other elements, and so we look to those elements and we might either work to fix them, or work to live with them with our understanding of emptiness. "The third path is the Path of Poison: this is the most dangerous path, and not one that can be used by the greater masses. It is for use by elders, for committed practitioners, philosophers, sages, and the like. It is the path of converting Collectivist-Individualist Dichotomy into beyond Collective-Individual. In this path, we wield the passion, we realize it for what it is. We see our negative passions, our sorrows, our wraths, our lusts, our envy, and we accept it. Only in doing so, only by taking the poison, can we transmute it into its true face: all things harmful to you are, in truth, the false face. Remember this, always. Relax within this emotion, do not magnify it. Accept it for what it is, understand it, where it arises from, where it will go. In this casualness, you will have practiced the skillful method of Detachment. Detachment does not mean: Oh, I will feel nothing, for I am not connected to anything. Rather, Detachment is: I will feel this, and I will understand where it is from, but it is not the whole of my being, it is empty, it is interesting, it is loving. I will watch it as it enters and leaves, like a shooting star."
Raxri suppressed a smirk. A twist of karmic fate, perhaps? They continued reading. In the next few pages, it was revealed unto them the 18 Bodhisattva Precepts, as taught by the Conqueror of this Kalpa, Kitama Sanja Murat.
"Disciples, thus have I heard, that the more difficult yet most rewarding act of transcension is found in the Emancipation, in the Extinction, in the Liberation. You will know it as the Non-Abiding Revolution: the true Enlightenment that transcends Liberation and Extinction, as one both transcends the world but also chooses to stay to help it. Those that become these beings are known as Bodhisattva. "Those aspirant Bodhisattvas must vow to keep the following precepts. These are the Actions To Abandon. They are: "Praising one''s self, or belitting others, due to attachment to material offerings, praise, and respect. "Abstaining from giving material aid or not teaching the Law to the suffering and without protection nor a protector. "Striking at another, or deafening one''s self to their apologies. "Abandoning the Great Barge Path by saying that these texts are not the Law thsemelves. "Abandoning the Holy Doctrine by professing that these texts are not my word. "Wrathfully striking a monk of their robes, beating them, causing them to lose ordination even if their morality is impure. "Committing any of the Five Nadir Actions: killing one''s mother, killing one''s father, killing a Arhat, drawing blood from a buddha, or intentionally causing a schism in a Monk Community. "Holding views that distort the Law. "Destroying towns, villages, cities, or other sanctuaries by means of fire, bombs, pollution, or magick. "Teaching the truth of the Sacred Darkness to those whose minds are unprepared. "Causing those riding upon the Great Barge to turn away from attaining Buddhahood, and encouraging them to work for only their own liberation. They might attain Liberation, but it will not be Revolution. "Causing someone to break their Liberation Vows. "Belittling those of other Cultivation Systems. "Arrogantly stating one has realized Sacred Darkness and causing others to lead down one''s false path so that they may be as great as you. "Taking gifts from those encouraged to give you gifts intended as offerings to the Tristones. Never take something that was intended for the Buddhas, the Law, and the Commune. "Causing those in Calmness Meditation Cultivation to give up their Cultivation and give their belongings to those only merely reciting texts, disrupting the spiritual community. "Finally, disciples, one of the greatest abandonable action is the abandoning of Bodhicitta Cultivation. Either of the two: Aspiring Bodhicitta and Engaging Bodhicitta."
Raxri blinked. They lowered the manuscript for a few moments. There is no way I''m remembering all of those, they thought. At least, not yet. I will need it inscribed upon a booklet or scroll, so I may refer to it as I travel across the forsaken wheel of violence.
They opened the manuscript again and flipped to a previous page, and they immediately saw the section for Bodhicitta.
"Disciples, thus have I heard. The Bodhicitta is exactly that. The Enlightenment Thought. It is the state of being one must constantly take on to cultivate and generate compassion to liberate all living and infinite beings from suffering and into Buddhahood. It is the transcendent form of cultivation, for you cultivate yourself so that you may cultivate for others. Those that work through the Bodhicitta work towards Liberation Beyond Liberation. That is to say, Revolution. "Disciples, you might ask: what is Bodhicitta, in truth? It is the state of being harmonious with the truth of enlightenment and the nature of reality: emptiness. It is holding compassion for everyone for everyone is emptiness, and they must be liberated. This world is not a world of peace, any beautiful thing within it is a glimpse of Sacred Darkness. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "There are two aspects to a Bodhicitta: Aspirational and Engaging. Aspirational Bodhicitta is having this thought: to Cultivate one''s self for the liberation of all sentient and infinite beings to Buddhahood. This is achieved through meditation, reading of the Law, and reciting of the Law. This is also the Foundational Bodhicitta, for to engage in Bodhicitta practice, one must also perform it in accordance with the proper precepts and principles crafted by Bodhicitta. "Sometimes, this foundational Bodhicitta can be seen as a form of liquid, or as a nectar. It is the thing that connects us to the Sacred Darkness, otherwise known as Void. This nectar is the distilled essence of Awakening, of Enlightenment, of Liberation, of Extinction, of Emancipation, of Revolution. It is symbolized as Soma, and it flows through all things that have chosen to save all beings from suffering. More importantly, Bodhicitta is one of the most powerful sources of Sapi. It is a storehouse of Compassion. "Now, Engaging Bodhicitta is taking the steps to fulfill one''s compassion. Practicing Bodhicitta is done through the Six Diamond Sublimes: generosity, discipline, patience, diligence, concentration, and wisdom. By continuously practicing these things, one not only generates even more Bodhicitta for one''s self, but one also generates Bodhicitta for another. And in so doing, one helps all sentient beings achieve Revolution."
Raxri put down the sutra again.
Their mind whorled, spiraled.
Havoc seized it, gripped it. So many new ideas, so many new concepts, Raxri didn''t know what to believe in, or how to start practicing. Akazha walked in again.
"Fare you well so far?" she asked, moving over to her work table and picking up a miniature mortar and pestle made of smooth stone.
Raxri said: "There are so many new ideas here. New words for things: Waking-Mind, Revolution, Liberation Beyond Liberation, Compassion, the Diamond Sublimes... I am all too out of my depth, still."
"Ah, right, those things. I forgot the sutra had those things."
"You forgot?"
Akazha turned and shrugged. Unbearably cute, Raxri suppressed a smile. "More like, I suppose... I''ve never read the Azure Lotus Sutra. I know all of the concepts within, but I learned them differently, through the oral transmission of my master Ultramystic Sutasoma."
Raxri blinked. "You made me read scripture you yourself haven''t read?"
Akazha chuckled. "But your knowledge leaps rapidly, does it not? Reading is fun, no? Besides, I have no responsibility to order you how you learn your ideas, now. I''m not your master."
Raxri sighed. "It would have been helpful to me if you had given some guidance anyway."
"The Azure Lotus Sutra is an intermediary piece of writing," said Akazha, walking over to the outdoor kitchen again. "You will get the hang of it eventually, worry not. Oh, food will be served a phase after zenith. If you get hungry, eat any of the pastries there!" And then she was out and gone once again.
Raxri sighed and tried to read more. They spent the greater part of the post-zenith phases of the day trying to grok what had been said, to no avail. Everything they tried to absorbed slipped off of their mind: their brain had refused to become the sponge required for absorbing new knowledge.
When time for eating came, Raxri had completely given up on reading for now. They stacked the manuscript beside them and ate the fried rice and raw fish in vinegar, or kinilaw with Akazha.
As they ate, Akazha asked: "How''s your wound?"
Raxri shrugged. "I can hardly feel it anymore. Thanks to you, of course."
Akazha rolled her eyes. "Later, I must look at it. Reapply healing salves if I need to."
Raxri nodded, swallowing a piece of kinilaw. Delicious could not even begin to describe it: the fresh fishy taste made stronger, like a sword, through the white meat''s interaction with vinegars... Raxri could not contain chomping through rice with them in holy divine culinary tandem. "If that is what must be done. I thank you again, Akazha."
Akazha sighed and smiled. "You''re eating a lot more heartily, now. I am full glad to see it. It seems your body is recuperating well from, well, everything that has happened so far."
"I suppose it is," they replied. "Though, perhaps the tattoos that had been given me had been able to help with that."
Akazha nodded. "It protected you from completely dying from that kampilan impalement. Like I''ve said, Ampun Sagara is peerless in this field.
"A lot of the pain was also similarly kept at bay thanks to Myu Fan''s healing gourds."
Akazha smiled. "Myu Fan is a character, you know. One of the best doctors and healers in Pemi Island, maybe even in Wadzara as well. I''m glad she was there to take care of you when I couldn''t."
"You''re not so bad of a healer yourself, I would think," said Raxri, their kinilaw already almost halfway finished. "I would be proud of you if I were you."
Akazha smirked. "Thank you, Raxri Uttara." She rolled her eyes and continued eating.
At Sunset, when the Sun was halfway sunken into the ocean of the horizon, casting the world into an indigo twilight, Raxri took the time to bathe. Most of the day had been hot and humid, even if all they did was read. They welcomed the surprising and stark coldness of the stream.
Raxri submerged themself completely into the water, only keeping their face above the waters so that they wouldn''t drown. After a few moments of stillness and tranquility--no doubt this was a form of meditation as well--they sunk completely to wet their face, and then rose from the waters.
They opened their eyes. The naked body of Akazha Han Narakdag was there. She was covering herself with her arms. Her eyes wide with surprise.
An awkward silence. Raxri turned around. "Forgive me! I was ignorant that you were--"
"No, go ahead," They heard the sound of Akazha leaving the waters. "I''ll be back after you finish. You could pass for a ninja, you know, being able to so well hide yourself with your surroundings."
Raxri laughed. They realized then... why were they so nervous about seeing Akazha bathing? It was full natural to bathe. Nothing salacious about a body.
"It''s nice to know you know your social faux pas still," said Akazha, laughing as well.
"Looks like I beat you to bathing first, Akazha," said Raxri, snickering. Akazha made an annoyed sound.
"Is this because I called you a rival?"
"I take my rivalries seriously, Akazha." Raxri quickly washed themself with soap and coated their hair with fragrant perfumed oils. These belonged to Akazha.
"I can tell," said Akazha. "Well, go ahead and rinse yourself. I need my bathing time, you know."
"Of course, of course." Raxri quickly finished up. They ascended from the waters and wrapped themselves in a white cloth towel, and quickly made their way back up the path back to Akazha''s cottage.
As they walked, Akazha called out: "Oh, right, I will have to replace your bandages for the last time," she said.
Raxri nodded, and returned to the cottage.
When the night was so dark you could not recognize someone standing before you, Raxri completely dried themself and retreated to rest in their home quarters. The smell of incense wafting across the room, sandalwood, coaxed Raxri into a feeling of ease and comfort. They wore a simple silk jacket that kept their midriff bare, so Akazha could tend to the bandages.
After a few moments, a knock on the door. Raxri called out: "Come in!"
Akazha walked in. Bandages and another bronze pot in tow.
She set about to cleaning Raxri''s wounds. "No more pain in this region, I would hope?" A cold hand--too cold. What was she?--against their abdomen.
Raxri shook their head. "Thankfully, no longer."
"Good."
Akazha worked in silence for a few moments, before Raxri asked: "Akazha... I know almost nothing about you. As much as I know about me, which is to say, not a lot. Why are you an adherent of the Law? Why not seek immortality through the ways of the Witch?"
Akazha worked as she spoke. Mashed a herb. Heated a flask with a snap of her finger and a muttered mantra. "You have a lot of assumptions that you do not yourself understand," said Akazha. "It''s increasingly becoming clear that your memory had been removed, but there are traces, indelible markings of what your accrued knowledge has done to the infrastructure of your mind, leaving behind traces of knowledge to be used but no longer understood. How fascinating. You are like a walking ruin. A commune resting upon the wreck of an ancient empire."
Raxri nodded. Scarcely they could grok what Akazha meant to say.
Akazha continued: "It is... complicated. I found the Dharma, the Teachings, the Holy Doctrine, after a... let''s say, a vacation. Or a sabbatical, perhaps, from my old job. It became not only a source of foundation and stability for me after a harrowing period in my life, but also a form of expression, and a form of autonomy. Finally, after all those years in that work, I found that I can practice my own will, unchained by the will of a thousand years of history. That is the most important thing about history, you should know. Momentum."
Raxri nodded. "Right. You must have gone through something really traumatizing, then. Are you all right with telling me what happened? What the job was?"
Akazha shook her head. "Never let your rival know your weaknesses," she said, smiling. Sorrow crept up behind her lips.
Akazha finished dressing the wound in silence. Raxri was still thinking, but they hoped that they did not sour their relationship with Akazha by prying too deeply. "I know so little of you, Akazha," said Raxri, finger tapping their chin in thought.
"Perhaps, if you are a good little girlboy, then I will tell you more," she said, smirking.
Raxri scowled.
Akazha left the room then, bringing with her her medical accoutrement.
Again. Raxri alone and in the dark. Again.
I will find out eventually, they thought. I always do. I''ll make it out of this. They shrugged off any more thoughts and convinced themselves to rest early. [2.51] - Broken Enlightenment
Kill the buddha on the road. From The 22 Teachings of Tala
The next Esara came much quicker than Raxri could anticipate.
Four days flashed by. In that time, Raxri had finished none of the manuscripts Akazha had given them. Instead, Raxri bounced form manuscript to manuscript, soaking up what they could from each one.
First, Raxri found a grasp of magickal workings after reading a very small slice of THE WIZARD SUTRA, which talked about wizards and shamans (in Elder Karitan, veijza and sramana) and how magick worked in the Law.
Raxri did not understand all the terminology and had to jump to TREATISE ON MAGICK AND SUPRANATURALITY, which was written by Paramaterial Mystic and Sage Hri Kandu Patungkana, otherwise known as the Emerald Serpent Wizard. There they found out Magick meant: "the secret way of things, of mystique, of requiring initiation, the way of influencing the world through means only known to the initiated." And then they found out the meaning of Supranatural as "beyond natural" or "exceeding natural" and meant things that were hard to explain through natural laws, such as the secrets of sorcery. Here, Raxri learned that the gods and demons are all part of natural laws rather than supranatural. The supranatural were beyond even the gods and monsters.
Raxri wondered why they did not use the term supernatural instead. "That belongs to beings like us," Jikajika had filled in once. "We are beings of great nature. We are not beyond nature. That''s the purview of dread sorcery, you see."
Raxri thought for a moment, and then said: "The miracles you perform and the magicks wizards do... what is the difference?"
Jikajika had simply harrumphed and walked away. Akazha nodded, smirking. "You inch ever closer to Liberation, Raxri."
But then they fell upon a strange inflection of Sapi and what Power meant to magickers, and so they leaped over to THE WILL AND POWER SUTRA and at that point Raxri had forgotten what THE WILL AND POWER SUTRA were about. When they brought up to Akazha just how difficult it was to read THE WILL AND POWER SUTRA she laughed and said: "That''s Daknakraka for you. Impossible to read. She once said: ''All treatises on philosophy must be 15% difficult to understand, for other philosophers of the field to be happy.'' She''s a riot. She also said: "Never refer to real Analytology as Philosophy. Philosophy is the term coined by hateful sophists and used as a diminutive, jeering term. All forms of analysis are Analytology. All forms of discourse are Dialectology. All forms of natural inquiry are Mundology. Nothing more, nothing less."
Raxri had blinked. "You have that memorized, ready to utter like a sword ready to unsheathe?"
"Ultramystic Sutasoma," Akazha answered blankly. She walked away.
That sent a chill down Raxri''s spine.
On the day of their journey, Raxri, Jikajika, and Akazha woke up right at the start of Daybreak, the First Phase of the Day. Raxri and Akazha had readied up on clothes, wearing silks and cloths, to prevent mosquitos, flies, and sunburn. Rather poetically Raxri remembered the High Selorongian term for daybreak, or morning: Breaking Mornlight.
Raxri wore a sarong, and then bamboo sandals. They wore a strangely gauze-like shirt, which embraced their body so closely that the contours of their muscles showed. On top of the compression shirt they wore the heavy textile jacket that cut off at their midriff, and had sleeves coming to a close at their wrists. Dark gray with geometric patterns of bright vermilion.
Slung across their right hip was Puksa, still in their sheathe. They had been taking good care of Puksa. Oiling it, sharpening it, and making sure to cut with it once in a while to keep it in good working order and so that it wouldn''t rust. Raxri knew there was some sort of magickal formulation to it--most likely having to do with the actual magick formulas engraved upon the base of its blade--but neither Raxri nor Akazha could work out what it was.
Akazha on the other hand wore large billowy harem pants dyed pastel blue. She wore closed-toe boots made of hard carabao hide, blanched to look light gray. Those looked like armor--no one ever wore boots in the Utter Islands unless it was for protection. Her harem pants looked like they clipped into those boots, which reached up to her shins.
For her top, she wore a tube skirt that she only made to cover her top half, and then they made it fold multiple times around her chest, before pleating it multiple times and letting loose cloth hang to her right. She had no need for sheathes, as she hid all her blades within invisible sheathes of light: the rays of the sun, the gleaming beams of the moon, the silent glow of stars.
Over it all she wore an ankle-length sky blue textile hooded robe. Lines of silver threads ran through it, arranged in amazingly complex floral designs. Akazha used a gold belt, usually made to run around a waist, and wound it about her neck to cinch the robe near her neck area. Her silhouette was very distinct.
When Raxri saw what Akazha was wearing, they said: "Armored boots?"
"Expensive, these," she replied. "They came from trade. One must wait eternity for them. Perhaps there will be some war boots for you in Blacklight City."
Raxri nodded. "I am in dire need of armor."
Akazha nodded as well, both in agreement and in slight sheepishness. "I suppose I should have begun with that for you. But I am not exactly swimming in resources, you see."
"I understand, Akazha. I thank you anyway."
They ate a light breakfast--coffee, rice, dried fish--before they set out. They only had rattan satchels strung across their shoulders for their carriage. They both carried rations for the trip, along with flowers and joss sticks for offering as required, and then healing gourds and other medicines.
"Sungai stays behind?"
Akazha shook her head. "We ride the river barge down to Imos Town," she said. "Sungai is... not the friendliest with any kind of river god or entity." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Raxri turned to glimpse at Sungai, who was happily taro. "Is that so?" Sungai seemed almost too happy to be staying behind.
"Goodbye to thee," said Jikajika, flapping over to perch atop a pole. "This place will be kept safe, as it is a sanctuary."
"Don''t bring too many spirits over," said Akazha, checking her supplies one last time.
Jikajika shrugged, as if to say, no promises! Raxri only smiled. "Stay safe, dear guardian god," said Raxri.
Jikajika smiled and bowed. "Of course. May all the monsters that have ever and will ever be born upon this world be safe of thee and thine."
Raxri chuckled.
Before long, Raxri and Akazha began their trek, walking down the road toward the river, looking for all intents and purposes like true wandering swordsman. Like true vagrant knights.
They walked in, at least to Raxri, comfortable silence. The sky was cloudy; the unbearable heat of the sun was nowhere to be felt. The birds were still numerous overhead. The world sang and sang still, even in its death. Was this the beautiful sound of its throes? Or was it the waiting tune of a cosmos waiting to be rebirthed?
All things are reborn, after all.
Akazha walked in relative silence. She stared ahead, making sure to walk over large vines and creepers. The occasional wild hiss of a civet. The rare growl of a tiger. Nothing fazed her either way: there was nothing to be afraid of when one wielded power such as her.
When they first left, Raxri had chanted a Protection Mantra 108 times. Akazha reveled in it, but she did not chant her own mantra. When Raxri asked about why, Akazha said that she chanted along in her mind.
"How long will our travel be?" asked Raxri, as they walked.
Akazha smirked. "It''s barely been an hour."
Raxri shrugged. "I am merely curious."
"Two more hours, more or less. By the Hour of the Leaping Sun, we will have reached it."
"And now is...?"
"The Working Sun Hour. So called because work usually begins at this time of day."
Raxri scratched their head. "I... seem to have forgotten the Hour of a Day."
" Just know that there are 24 hours in a day, beginning and ending at midnight," said Akazha. She pulled out a pipe, snapped her fingers to summon a wick of flame, and lit the tobacco aflame. She put out the fire with a wave of her fingers. "Monks do not follow the usually movements of the day. Especially the monks of Mount Jura. All time is illusion, after all. Made by man. Made by us."
I suppose that''s true. Raxri made to meditate upon the truth of that. What is time but the attempt of the unenlightened mind to make sense of causality and movement? In the end, there is no time, but our failing comprehension and gripping to conceptualization.
Raxri shook their head. Now was not the time to glimpse into metatemporal ideas. Great, now I''m starting to think like an analytic philosopher, they thought to themselves, humorously enough.
The silence continued on, other than the sound of their footsteps crunching grass and dry leaves underneath. Raxri decided to savor the quiet. It was rare, and being in such a sacral place such as the forests of Pemi was enough to send one into deep concentration.
After a moment, Raxri stated: "It seems I had forgotten my own pipe."
Akazha blinked, looked over her shoulder. "Are you sure?"
Raxri nodded, sifting through the contents of their satchel. "It''s gone."
Akazha clicked her tongue. "Unfortunate. Perhaps next time you will take double care to re-check all the things that you need."
Raxri nodded. "Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, only something to learn. And you are no child, Raxri Uttara." Without looking, Akazha lent them her pipe. "Here, in the meantime."
"Ah..., are you sure? No poison suffuses this?"
"I am no venomous serpent to poison a pipe''s shaft," she said, rolling her eyes. "It is fine. Go ahead. You look like you could use it, anyway."
Raxri smiled and said: "If you insist."
They walked like that a few more dragons, passing the pipe between the two of them. After a while, Raxri asked: "Akazha, if it is all right, I have something to ask you."
"Hm?"
A beat of silence.
"Why... did you choose to help me?"
Another beat of silence.
Raxri saw deep contemplation pass over Akazha''s face, followed by: "Because I wanted to."
Want. "Very curt would you not say?"
"Actions done with ulterior motives is detrimental to generating and practicing Waking-Mind. I''ve done enough things in life under the invisible hand of selfishness and ambition."
Raxri thought about that for a moment. Right. Waking-Mind. Enlightening Mind...
Akazha--to fill in the silence--said: "Do you think I am maneuvering in such a way so as to take advantage of you?"
Raxri shook their head. "A-Ah, no! I would hope not, at least."
"It''s understandable for you to think so," said Akazha, shrugging, sighing. "Though the thought agitates me."
Raxri was silent. What does she mean?
She continued: "I am not going to consume your flesh, like the others," she said. "I do not contend with this Realms Belligerent in that way. Please, have it writ upon my soul, that I perform all the things I do for you in the name of Loving-Kindness."
"I know," said Raxri. "And I am thankful." But she''s hiding something.
_"_Just so we get ahead of it," she said, though she spoke without looking at Raxri. "Especially as we now journey together, not as master and student but as fellow disciples."
"Right." Raxri exhaled. "But in truth I was silent not because I was thinking that, but because I was trying to remember what bodhicitta was."
A quiet pause. She exhaled, clearly amused. "It is the mind to enlightenment, that thing that all beings upon the Law must aspire to generate, cultivate, and practice, so that every move we make brings us closer to Liberation. And perhaps, somehow, Liberation Past Liberation."
"Revolution," whispered Raxri. "It gets more complicated. And I thought it was already complicated!"
"Such a complication will only grow," said Akazha. "As you learn more of the different cultivation systems. The Infinite Law is not the most common cultivation system, as you know. That honor belongs to the Scarlet God Cult."
"Will we meet Scarlet God Cultists?"
She nodded. "They are everywhere, after all."
Another silence, then Raxri said: "Can I have the pipe?"
"What?" Akazha looked down at the pipe, and then shook her head. "No."
"Huh? But we were just sharing it...!"
"I changed my mind now."
"I beg--"
"Begging makes you repulsive. Cease!" But Akazha hid a burgeoning smile.
They walked on like this.
By the Phase of the Leaping Sun, after zenith, Raxri and Akazha had reached the river. It rushed, great and wide, enough to fit five outrigger boats. So wide it was that Raxri thought it was the sea at first.
"Witness," said Akazha, waving with her lit pipe. "The great River Wetan."
"It is beautiful."
"This is a larger section of the same river you and Sungai had to cross, coming here. Upriver one arrives at the now dead Iri Village," said Akazha. "You would do well to remember the rivers of the world, Raxri. It is the lifeblood of these settlements, the very thing that connects us together. Nothing is more impassable than the holy mountains, you see. Nothing is greater a mover, greater a transporter, than flowing water."
Raxri nodded in agreement. The two of them walked down the river, passing the pipe between each other.
After a moment, Raxri said: "Oh look. A lotus."
Akazha furrowed her eyebrows. "Lotuses out here? Strange. The water movement here is far too quick for there to be lotuses..."
"Look!" Raxri pointed with the pipe at the lotus.
It moved closer.
Akazha immediately readied herself. "What the--?"
A dragon erupted from the river. [2.52] River Dragon Prince
The greatest spirits of the world are the Water Spirits, for water spirits arise from everywhere. What is water but that which binds us? The most powerful of water gods are the dragons. Ruong in the Shennin tongues, Naka in Pemi and Nilatpan tongues, Nawa in the Charnel Isles and in Northern South Ra-om. These are beings that live in the great rivers or in the clouds, and can summon rain, thunders, cause floods, or cause droughts. Reverence is paid to the dragons to ask for rain for crops or flooding for rice, or to stop too much overflooding. It is said that the King of Dragons, or the Rakainaka, once used their own life to safeguard and protec the meditating Sanjah Kitama Murat from the javelins of Mada, the God of Dread Illusion and Craving. From The Treatise On This World''s Great Spirits
Raxri stood mesmerized. Akazha burst into action.
This is the closest Raxri had ever seen a dragon before.
Was this a Naka?
The dragon''s scales shimmered like pearls. Their eyes bulged. Black rimmed them as if it wore mascara. Its fangs were razor sharp. Blades flanged from its snout, executioner axes. Its claws were as long as kalises, gleaming pitch like meteoric iron.
This particular dragon had skin the color of the sky-before-dawn. Almost pearlescent. And even with its darkness, it gleamed. Its appendages and extremities shone with a bright orange glow, as if it was lava. As if it were on fire.
Volcano''s wrath breached the waters.
Raxri unsheathed Puksa, and Akazha chant a mantra while slashing the earth before them. A barrier of pure light sliced up in front of them, shielding them.
The dragon slammed into the purelight barrier, and immediately shattered it.
"Raxri, prove now your worth!" screamed Akazha.
Raxri snapped out of the mesmerization and said: "Oh, how nice of you!"
"Spare me your sarcasm!" The two of them dove in opposite directions, out of the way of the dragon as its claws came down and carved into the earth.
Raxri''s Light Body was defter. Stronger now. They had better control of their body. Their Sapi Burned Brightly. Instead of hitting the ground with their shoulders and rolling prone, they used their Light Body to flip in mid air, elegantly, as if they were swimming underwater, and planted both feet on the ground.
Akazha was already floating backwards, performing quick mudras with her hands. She put her fingers over her mouth and unleashed a burning stream of flame at the dragon.
The naka screamed and turned to Akazha. The fire turned sizzled into steam against the dragon''s black pearl scales.
But Raxri was upon them, Puksa glinted within the speed. The sword cracked into the pearlescent scales, inflicting a bruise which looked more like a dent. But no further damage was done: the dragon''s natural armor stood fortified.
The naka flickered toward Akazha striking with its claws as if it were human. Akazha met them with her blade, clanging against their sword-length talons. They clashed. An intense flurry of blows. The outcome: Akazha crashing to the ground, but managing a clean cut up the dragon''s throat.
"Raxri!"
Raxri dashed underneath the nak, performing the mudras for Heavenly Lightning Saber. When they saw the fresh wound, they unleashed it: three burning cuts of scathing light searing and slicing into the same wound. The nak screamed in pain, thrashed about, knocking down entire trees and sending earth into the air.
Raxri had to concentrate to avoid the nak''s havoc. A loose claw swipe struck their breastplate and sent them hurtling back into a nearby tree. The tree buckled.
Akazha was there beside Raxri. "The breastplate holds well," she said. "Rise, Raxri Uttara."
The dragon continued to thrash.
As it did, it shrank.
Raxri tilted their head to the side: "What happens to the great one?"
Akazha pointed to the scar. Burning writing engraved onto the flesh. "It means SEAL. A calming yantra. It will be enough to pacify the dragon for a moment. There is no way we will be able to kill it. Not yet."
"It shrinks...?"
"A common sign of divinity is shapeshifting," said Akazha. "That vaunted ability to change one''s form."
"Are all dragons divinity?"
"Aye," replied Akazha. "For better and yet for worse. But all naka can change their form at will, and many have human-seeming forms to traverse across our world all the more easier."
"I see. So say you, I might have met a dragon before, but would have never known?"
Akazha raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps. But that is not entirely relevant to our current conversation, I would believe."
"Oh. Akazha, look."
The dragon had shrunken now from its titanic, serpent like form into a still hulking figure of a man. His skin was the color of darkest blue, the night at its coldest. His hair was bright orange, fire from his scalp. So was his beard, though it was kept in check by gold bands and rings that kept them tied together.
He was kneeling, almost bowing, in the direction of both Raxri and Akazha. They still both had their weapons at the ready, just in case. One can never be too sure.
The man was clad in brigandine made of dragonscale of his draconic form. It looked as though it were difficult to remove.
The night-skinned man looked up and stared at them. His muscles rippled, he was a hulk of a creature. His eyes were the color of orange sunset, like his hair, and stood out in stark contrast against his navy blue skin.
He spoke, and his voice was hoarse, gravelly, but not completely basso. The voice of a dragon. "What have you done to me?" Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
"Nothing," replied Akazha Han Narakdag, floating kalises pointed towards the man. "Why did you attack us?"
"You refrain from killing me yet," said the man, still kneeling. "You preclude me from such a mercy."
"Killing is not high in my priorities," said Raxri.
The man stared again. "What? Ye be saints?"
"We have said no such thing," said Akazha. "And you have not answered my question. Prithee, reply to my interrogation: why did you attack us?"
The man stared again, and then rose to his feet. Raxri watched as he ascended to his full height: they were the height of two Raxris. Given, Raxri was not particularly tall either, they were just tall enough to be taller than Akazha, and they were both roughly of the same height. But even then, the man seemed to be a tail and a half tall.
"Sapi."
Raxri furrowed their eyebrows, confused. They gripped Puksa''s handle.
Akazha let out a breath. "If consuming our flesh is your objective then I must stop you, I am afraid. Death calls thee."
"But you have defeated me." The man looked down, and truly, he did look defeated. They looked as though they haven''t been fighting, despite their impressive bulk. "I am in no condition to fight any longer."
"A dog backed into a corner will bite," said Akazha. "Prove to us that you will not slay us when we have lowered our guard."
The man managed a smile. "Your paranoia is justified, witch," said the man. "I can only respect it. Very well, if I must prove myself docile and pacified: I am Sintra Kennin, Prince of Hri Asra Kinawetan, the God of River Wetan. I am heir apparent... but I lack the power to do be this."
A silence. Raxri''s eyes flickered between Akazha and Sintra Kennin, who breathed with large nostrils that no doubt housed flame.
Then, Akazha waved her hand. Her kalises disappeared. Sheathed again into the sun''s rays. "I believe you."
Raxri licked their lips. "Akazha I--"
"I was wondering why you were so quickly subjugated," said Akazha. "Now it makes sense. You have not been cultivating your draconic powers, have you not?"
Sintra Kennin looked embarassed. He shrugged. "To become the God of Wetan River one must be warlord. I am no warlord. I am a painter."
Raxri blinked. "Forgive me," they said, chiming in. "I beg your pardon?"
"I am no warrior," repeated Sintra Kennin. "More accurately, I do not wish to be a warrior. I wish to explore the visual arts."
Akazha held back a laugh. Sintra Kennin scowled. "You laugh at me, a Naka Prince?"
"Forgive your servant," said Akazha. "It is simply something new to me. How interesting the last few months have been."
"So what will you do with me?" asked Sintra, still towering over them, looking like the true warrior among the three of them.
"We will let you go," said Akazha. She performed a gesture: two fingers pointed at her heart. She cut down, as if cutting it away. the seal on Sintra Kennin''s neck melted into nothingness and Sapi. "Return to your River Palace. Forgive us. And do not bother us again."
Sintra Kennin sighed. In one hand he had a giant curved sword. A dakgatana, a single-edged, two-handed blade, enlargened to zweihander proportions. He did not unsheathe this. He held onto the scabbard, clean and unbroken.
"I cannot."
Akazha scowled. Raxri held their grip on Puksa. They waited for a reason.
"I..."
"Speak," said Akazha.
"It is all right," said Raxri. "Please, let out what you wish."
Sintra Kennin seemed to be at war with his thoughts. Raxri looked at Akazha, who seemed to be completely calm, almost too lax. In truth, Sintra Kennin''s body language spoke of no keening violence. Instead, it spoke of pure uncertainty, fear, doubt, and a dollop of shame.
With another final exhalation, he said: "I cannot. My father will kill me."
Raxri blinked. Akazha seemed to be waiting for more information, no reaction on their face. Not yet. A butterfly fluttered in Raxri''s stomach. Was Akazha this committed to protecting me? No, it must be because she is protecting herself. We are no longer master-student, after all.
"Why would your father kill you?" asked Raxri.
"Their disappointment is greater than the bleakest dark," Sintra Kennin replied. They spoke so softly, despite their ogre-like appearance. "Firstly, I am their firstborn, and I was already a failure for I manifested into a painterly woman form when I first came of age. ''Women cannot be warlords!'' He had said.
"When I asked why, he said ''It is tradition. The momentum of history!'' When I pointed out that we were shapechangers and could change our gender at any moment, he overtook him, boiling like milk upon a furnace. I changed my form to that of a warlord--" they gestured to his giant self, "--and embodied it... but my martial training lacking, unlike my brothers and sisters who had been trained thoroughly in the martial arts since their birth. They did this enthusiastically so.
"But since I was still the first-born, I was the rightful heir of the River Throne of Wetan. I struck my father in the face in defiance when they forced me into exhaustion in training for being a Warlord. In another fit of wrath, he exiled me and told me: ''You can only return to this family and this palace once you are strong enough to defeat all of your siblings in single combat! Until then, you are not my spawn!'' And so I was forced to leave. I have been wandering for years since, cultivating my Sapi, but found it slow-going. I am handily defeated by master swordhands. The only skill I have cultivated is my painting skill."
Akazha inhaled and then exhaled. She turned to Raxri, whose lip was quivering at the story. "Raxri...? Fare you well?"
Raxri nodded, successfully managing to burst the bubbling emotion of sorrow they had for Sintra. "It is all right, Sintra," they said. "Journey with us. Together we can cultivate your strength, and your father will bid you to return!"
Akazha turned and immediately added: "IF! If, you wish to return to your father, that is." Then she turned to Raxri and said: "Damn me, guard well your bleeding heart, Raxri."
Sintra Kennin bowed low and nodded. "I do. I wish it so. I miss my siblings, my family. We were all so happy there. And my siblings... they never hated me. I always cooked for them and helped them when it came to artistic sides of things."
"Oh, Sintra Kennin, great dragon of the river! Please, I implore you, travel with us. We will cultivate martial skill together! You will be able to return to your family in due time!" Raxri was practically leaping up trying to convince Sintra Kennin to go with them.
Akazha only mopped their face. She did realize that having another, large and physically imposing warrior with them would not be a burden, but a boon.
And so she stayed quiet. She let Raxri talk. She felt like they were doing a good job anyway, because Sintra Kennin''s eyes lit up, almost glistened. It was comical in a transgressive sort of way to Akazha, seeing this huge hulk of a warrior--nay, a warlord!--pouting and moping and being excited by a cloud-headed warrior half his size.
"I am not sure. I would hate to intrude, and I have never known a world beyond Wetan River."
"How long have you been alive, if it is not rude of me to ask?" asked Akazha, from behind Raxri.
"Eighty-four," said Sintra Kennin, gripping their blade. Despite not being peerless at it, or having suboptimal martial skill, the way Sintra Kennin carried themself and their blade was an imposition of intimidation all the same. A large number of humans would cower and forfeit at the mere sight of someone like Sintra Kennin, and perhaps that was violence enough.
"Hm. Relatively young for a spirit," said Akazha.
"That''s young?" asked Raxri, stopping from jumping around. "That''s so many years..."
"Maturity is different for each sentient being, you should know," Akazha noted. "And for spirits, sometimes it is slower than a human. Unlike humans who must toil under mortality, spirits rarely get diseased, rarely get infected, live for long times, and gain sustenance through the prayers and merits of those devoted to them and making offerings to them."
"I see." Raxri turned to Sintra Kennin and walked over to them. They stood so close to each other now. This close, Raxri was truly only half Sintra Kennin''s height. They had to look up to be able to meet Sintra''s eyes. "How long have you been cultivating, great spirit of the river?"
Sintra shook their head. "It is all right. You may call me Sintra or Sintra Kennin. And I have been cultivating for decades."
"Join us. I am Raxri Uttara."
Sintra Kennin stared at Raxri for a moment. From afar, it looked like the River Dragon Prince was scowling at the sun-haired swordmaiden. Then, they said: "So it is true."
Raxri tilted their head to the side.
Akazha caught on quick. Her hands flew into performing mudras.
Sintra Kennin continued: "So you are They Who Danced Against The Heavens."
Raxri frowned.
"If I consume your flesh," said Sintra Kennin, fire-colored eyes blazing, suddenly. "I will be awarded with power beyond reckoning. Sapi that shalt scourge the heavens themselves."
Sintra Kennin unsheathed his dakgatana. It fell in a deadly arc toward Raxri. [2.53] - Drawn Sword Catch
Sword souls are born the very moment they are forged from flame and given a name. Many other weapons, armors, and sacred items have these very same souls. They are of the Spirit Path of the Six Paths of Hingsajagra. It is these sword souls that bind and create symbiotic relationships with their wielders. Consorting with weapon souls unlock the greater secrets of these weapons, known as evocations. From The Treatise On This World''s Great Spirits
"Raxri!"
The unsheathing strike came out quicker than Akazha''s rapid hand seals.
Raxri''s Vajra Body exploded. Always meditating.
Without looking, depending not on instinct but something greater, transcendent awareness:
The dakgatana slammed into Raxri''s catching hand.
Burning with combined might of Whorl Guard and Heavenly Lightning Deflection. Hands iron.
The earth around Raxri exploded upwards. A shooting star crashed into the earth.
"Calm!" yelled Raxri straight to Sintra Kennin.
Sintra Kennin was already midway through a second slash.
Raxri turned to catch the second blade. Their hand slammed like iron against it, stopping it. They moved forward and swung Puksa out of their sheathe. Sintra Kennin swatted it away with their dakgatana, turned around, and unleashed another attack. Raxri dodged that one this time, weaving low.
The Heaven Dancer unleashed Adamant Lightning Strikes, cutting 12 different ways in a breathspan. Sintra Kennin raised their dakgatana to parry. Yet the slashes came too fast.
Rapid, rushing, the river.
They clashed, exchanged blows. Dodged, wove. Sintra Kennin thrust too low and Raxri stepped on their blade, cut three times, knocked Sintra Kennin with a kick.
The River Dragon Prince cried out. He gripped his dakgatana. His lifeline. He raised it up just as Raxri came in again, Puksa flashing. The River Dragon Prince powered through Raxri''s lightning assault--multiple plates of their bringandine struck off, cut and shattered.
He swung his dakgatana. Slashed Raxri''s upper right shoulder.
The Heaven Dancer was clad in protective tattoos, so the slash did not bisect Raxri outright like what the dakgatana would''ve done. Instead, the blow sent Raxri hurtling to Sintra''s left, tumbling and dragging through the muddy riverbanks.
Akazha stepped in, like bouncing lightning. Akazha was even shorter than Raxri, but their wrath overpowered Sintra''s own vanity. She leaped in with nothing but her fists, flurrying alongside a burgeon of cloth. This perplexed the grand River Dragon Prince.
They exchanged blows, quick dakgatana cuts being parried and deflected by Akazha''s bare hands, which shone as if they were steel. In the silent instants where Akazha saw an opening, she would rapidly summon her kalis and send it piercing straight into that opening. A few the River Dragon Prince deflected. This sent the kalis twirling away in a glint of light, though it never hit the ground. It was sheathed again in the sun''s rays...
...only for it to be summoned in Akazha''s hands again when another opening revealed itself.
The few that did get past the River Dragon Prince''s spirit-amped defenses struck deep and true, though thanks to Sintra Kennin''s mien they were more than capable of weathering a few sword stabs, which were also mostly blunted by their brigandine armor.
But after a few of those stabs, and a few more of those rapid, brutal, kinetic exchanges, where the two of them looked like evenly matched kung fu masters, Sintra Kennin felt the sudden, random jolts of pain when exerting with their dakgatana strikes.
After a few rounds of this violent back and forth, Raxri began to rise from their impact crater. Desparate, Sintra unleashed a relentless slamming attack: dakgatana raised high and then slammed down suddenly. Five times in quick succession. The beat resounded like a war drum.
Akazha uttered a mantra and perfectly blocked each one. Every block she did, her hands shuffled into a different mudra. By the fifth mudra, she uttered a magic spell, slipped in close to Sintra Kennin''s muscled torso (which at that point had showed due to Akazha blowing away chunks of brigandine) and lightly tapped Sintra Kennin''s stomach.
The light tap blasted Sintra Kennin back by five tails.
He hurtled backwards, tumbling and dragging across the ground. He managed to find his feet again eventually, sticking down, blade up. But his eyes eyes betrayed true surprise. Though his eyebrows blazed, his eyes flickered with uncertainty. Nay, not uncertainty. That is a word for non-warriors. Fear. It was fear in Sintra Kennin''s eyes.
And then Raxri Uttara was there, sending a Devastating Red Hand straight into Sintra Kennin''s right side. He groaned in pain. And then Akazha was there to his right, sending a savage twirling kick straight into Sintra Kennin''s jaw.
The River Dragon Prince stumbled, reeling, towards Raxri. Raxri grabbed Sintra Kennin while he was reeling and swapped places with him, blew him wide open with a fierce get off me, and then struck ten times with nothing but their fists, wielding their knuckles like daggers.
Akazha cried out from behind: "GING GING!"
Ice shards crashed into Sintra Kennin''s side. Frost burgeoned from the struck areas.
Sintra Kennin staggered.
Raxri flickered forward. Flicked out their hand; blood scattered across Sintra Kennin''s eyes. Dashed forward, slammed into Sintra Kennin''s lower half, sent them crashing into the ground.
Akazha somersaulted through the air. Slammed onto Sintra Kennin''s sword hand. Hand cracked opened.
Akazha twisted and performed the telekinesis mudra. Telekinesis flung the dakgatana away, clattering uselessly against a nearby boulder.
Sintra Kennin roared.
Raxri clambered on top of the dragon-man, Puksa unsheathed, and pointed it straight at Sintra Kennin''s throat. "This will be your last spear of compassion," said Raxri, and their voice was both resolute and desparate. As if to say: _please, I don''t want to kill you. "_Swear that you will not consume me. Swear that you will journey with us, and you will be able to fight with greater prowess than any of us." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Sintra Kennin scowled.
Then, he grinned.
A mad grin.
A ferocious, competitive grin.
"Your skill in violence exceeds mine. A dragon of the river. With nothing left to give but my life, I accept, Raxri Uttara. For staying your hand, I pay with my life. I am your servant, your guardian, your sentinel. Until my final days, I will keep you safe from harm. This will be my penance, for attempting to strike you down."
Akazha stared intently at Sintra Kennin, slightly hovering above ground. Witches and wizards loved defying standard Earth Laws.
Raxri nodded, leaping off of Sintra Kennin''s chest. Sintra Kennin sighed. Defeated. A few moments passed.
Raxri turned and offered their hand. Sintra Kennin accepted. "We will grow stronger together," said Raxri, a slight smile now back in their face. "And then you will return to your father and become the god of this river."
Sintra Kennin smiled and nodded.
Akazha caught their breath. In truth both she and Raxri were berathing heavily. This one took a lot of their stamina. Then, she said, eyebrows furrowed: "You''re... weaker than I would have expected from a Spirit of a River. You seem well fed, however. How is it that you have not cultivated your strength?"
Raxri blinked, turned to look at Sintra, wondering.
Sintra Kennin winced at their wounds, sat up. "I have already told you. I did not cultivate my martial skill nor any violent system. I cultivated my painting skill."
Raxri smiled. "I think that''s better than cultivating a martial art!"
Akazha shook her head. She took medicinal water bottle gourd from her pack and gave it to Sintra. "Here. Drink this. It will mend your wounds quicksome."
Sintra bowed deeply to Akazha. He stopped midway through, groaning from the pain. "This River Dragon Prince thanks you."
Akazha drank a few of their own medicinal waters as well. So did Raxri, after realizing that they had sustained a few injuries.
"You forgive far too easily for someone who has just been sucker punched," noted Akazha, after drinking a big gulp. While drinking, Raxri, eyes wide, pointed at themselves questioningly. As if to say: Refer you to me? Akazha nodded.
"Sintra Kennin is simply uninformed," said Raxri. "I cannot fault anyone for being uninformed." They turned to Sintra Kennin. "I have lost all my memory, great Sintra Kennin. I have no knowledge of whatever thing I''ve done to the Heavens. I''ve no knowledge of who has arranged the 108 Glaives of Heaven against me. I''ve no knowledge of any of these things. I am simply a warrior lost from time, shorn of memory and remembrance. I do not even know if I am the Raxri Uttara from before that you so claim to know."
Sintra nodded. "Then forgive me. I no not of anything of the grand scheme of the world. All I know is that consuming your flesh will grant the consumer certain immortality. And who does not want to become an immortal? Even the gods wish to become immortals. Only the High Gods, the Brahmas, do not wish this so. And that is because they have deluded themselves into thinking they are immortals already, due to their excessively long lifespans, which range for kalpas!"
Raxri asked: "How long is a kalpa again, if you would be so kind?"
It was Akazha who answered: "16 million years."
Raxri nodded, in seeming understanding but not in actual understanding. They could not fathom the true depths of that time-chasm. "That is quite a long time."
"Indeed it is," said Sintra. "But that is besides the point. A demon of torn attention befuddles your thoughts. All I wish is to be able to accrue power and strength so that I may prove to my father that I am all that he wishes me to be, and much more."
Raxri pouted, thinking. The three of them sat down in a crude triangle. Raxri said: "But why would you want to please your father when he is so hateful towards you?"
Sintra Kennin only smiled. He looked at Akazha, whose eyebrows were furrowed as they looked at Raxri. Shrugging, he said: "It is not as easy as just denouncing my father. The momentum of time and history is the greatest violence made to tread upon my being. I must become the next God of Wetan River, lest all the offerings made by the people of the river be in vain."
"I see," said Raxri. "That is unfortunate."
"You do not remember who your father and mother are?" asked Sintra.
Raxri shook their head. "I do not. This is my sorrow. To atone, I treat everyone as having been my father and mother at least once. In so doing I ground myself in compassion."
Akazha smiled and said: "Your training in Mount Jura has truly skewered you through with javelins of enlightenment. You speak like an insufferable yoker."
Raxri laughed at that. "I like being insufferable at times. It helps me forget that I have forgotten all my memory." Akazha rolled her eyes, though with a playful smile on her face, and lit a pipe.
"You are cultivators of the Law then?" asked Sintra Kennin.
Raxri and Akazha nodded. They shared a pipe between them. "What about you?" asked Raxri. "What do you cultivate? What do spirits cultivate?" Akazha''s long, knife-tipped ears twitched in anticipation for Sintra Kennin''s answer.
"Well, generally, we spirits cultivate and follow the same Ways that humans do," Sintra Kennin. "I''ve done River Blade Cultivation and Samadhi Water Cultivation."
"Samadhi Water Cultivation?" asked Raxri.
"These are Paths to Power," said Akazha, pointing it out. "The Law is a Path to Enlightenment."
"Right! The Abbot told me about that," said Raxri.
Sintra Kennin nodded. "Samadhi Water Cultivation is the appropriate use of Samadhi Water. That is to say, the ability to generate, control, and annihilate the element of Water, which is present in the rivers, the rains, the seas, and even the body. Everyone in our family has been inducted into the Samadhi Water Cultivation pathway, and I am quite useful with it. However, we also have our own bloodline cultivation Way: the Wetan River Dragon Cultivation. This is a cultivation system that grows as we grow. It is our inherent capability to do the things you would think a dragon of a hallowed river should be able to do: summon rains, transform into fishes, serpents, and naka forms, and be able to exercise godly control over their devotees."
"I see." Raxri tapped their chin. "So all the gods'' inherent powers are nothing but Bloodline Cultivations?"
Akazha nodded. "Remember, as with all things, the gods are empty beings. There is no essential thing that makes a god. And since a god is essenceless, defining a god as having the capability to control their dominion is in truth a worthless description. Some gods have control over their dominion, others do not, others are simply gods without dominions. That is the truth of this world."
The River Dragon Prince nodded. "Though, I suppose, as with humans, not all gods and spirits have this understanding, I would think. I only knew about it because my family is a fierce adherent of the Scarlet God, and they hold a similar doctrine. Everything without essence but Rutra."
Raxri breathed out a puff of smoke. "I see. How do you cultivate your Way, then, Sintra Kennin?"
"In the same way that you do," he replied. "By mindful training of it, understanding the ways, concerting with masters and manuscripts and manuals. Condensing and strengthening my Sapi Furnace through it, as Sapi is the flame from which all beings are wrought, and it is the very thing that will bring us transcension through cultivation."
"So drinking Sapi Elixirs will help you too, I take it?" asked Akazha.
Sintra Kennin nodded in confirmation.
"And for my bloodline cultivation," continued Sintra. "That gets stronger too the more offerings we get, and the more we eat soma. Hence why offerings are so useful for us gods, though it is not the only way to cultivate, and is truly just a miscellaneous addition to the primary way of cultivation through honing skills."
"I see. What complexities will I unveil next?" asked Raxri, mostly to themself.
"This is a complex world," said Akazha. "That is a facet of violence, I''m afraid."
A silence passed over them. Then, Raxri turned to Sintra Kennin. "So you are going to do it, then?"
Sintra tilted their head to the side. They truly did look like a fierce hermit warrior who has gone into the forests to perfect their martial skill. Is this the power of shapechanging? "Do what, great Raxri Uttara?"
"Walk with us. Journey with us. Attain glory and strength with us?"
Sintra smiled. "You two seem like adherents of the Law, while I am a faithful of the Scarlet God. How will this pan out?"
"It is no problem," said Akazha, shrugging. "The Law recognizes Rutra."
"Right. In the Infinite Law, Rutra is even considered the Termaganat Buddha!"
Sintra Kennin raised an eyebrow at that. Then, shrugging, he said: "If it is all right with you, then I share your goals. To get stronger. Ever upwards."
"To go beyond!" said Raxri, rising to their feet and pumping a fist into the air. "Until Ultrastrength is achieved!"
"Ultrastrength?" asked Akazha, stretching as she stood. A look of bemusement on her face.
"Yeah! Strength but... ultra. Forgive me, I keep hearing the word ultra being placed before words, such as Ultramystic. Does that not mean ''strongest''?"
Akazha smiled and shrugged. "It might as well. Until Ultrastrength, then."
Sintra Kennin rose to his full height, completely dwarfing the both of them, overshadowing their two pumped fists. He punched the sky and a gust of air flowed upward. He bellowed: "Until Ultrastrength!" [2.54] - Gods Brush Stroke
When we create implements of war It is the war that chases after us. This is the wheel of sharp weapons returning For what can cut a Buddha but a blade that we forge? From Treatise of Cultivating Waking-Mind Through Smithing
Together now, they walked. Strolling down the river.
Raxri asked: "Akazha, I was meaning to ask. Why do we walk down the river?"
"The River Barge Station lies a few dragons from here," she said, pointing with her lips down the river. "We sail to Imos Town. Then, from there, we ride to Blacklight City."
"Why is the Ultramystic Sutasoma in Blacklight City anyway?" asked Raxri, pondering on why they were undertaking such a journey.
Akazha shrugged. "Many reasons," she said. "The two foremost ones are that it is in the End of the World, and because of the Blacklight found within. It is hard to describe. You will have to trust in me, and I will explain when we get there."
Raxri sighed. "Very well."
Behind the both of them lumbered Sintra Kennin. Still clad in his proud armor. His giant dakgatana strapped diagonally across their back.
Raxri turned around and asked: "Where did you get that giant katana, Sintra?"
Sintra blinked. "Oh, ah, this? It was a gift crafted by a traveling blacksmith mystic from Wadzara. It is called a dakgatana. Dak for Great or Large. Gatana is just how you pronounce it when you add Dak at the beginning. This weapon, when crafted to me, was named God''s Brush Stroke. I thought it fitting." He unsheathed it and said: "See, the blade is made of meteorite. That is why it is black. Fallen from the firmament. It resembles the brush stroke of some heavenly god."
"''Tis true," said Raxri. They raised their now bandaged live hand, swaddled in poultices. "It cut through the Whorl Guard!" They winced and had to lower it.
"Once again, I do beg for your forgiveness, Raxri Uttara," Sintra said, bowing again. "It was nothing but pure craving for power. I do not excuse my actions."
"Good," said Akazha.
"Becalm yourself. It is all right," said Raxri. Akazha sighed, exasperated.
"No doubt you have faced a number of warriors doing the same thing. Attempting to seize the Sapi hidden within your flesh."
Raxri smiled and shrugged. "Yes, actually. But I welcome it. Through them, I constantly gain power and cultivate myself."
"Hm..." Sintra sheathed the dakgatana. "That is a good mindset."
Raxri smiled wider, proud of themself. They could practically hear Akazha rolling her eyes. "You understand me. I thought: I cannot change them due to the situation they''re in and the lay of the world. True anquish and sorrow lies in the fact that one tries to change something that they have no control over. Therefore I went and changed how I look at it." Raxri nodded at themself for thinking of this. They never really thought about it before: the justification arose from itself, here, at that very moment.
Sintra nodded again. "I see. But, that is easier said than done, Raxri," he said, stroking his flameing beard in thought. "We are more shaped than our environments than we realize."
"How wise you two speak now," said Akazha, in a haughty way. Raxri smiled and shrugged at Akazha, knowing this to be her personality.
"That be true," said Raxri, referring to Sintra. "I suppose I have only arrived at this mindset due to my cultivation in Mount Jura. It just seems too weird for me not to start from the grounds of Loving-Kindness."
Akazha said: "That is ideal," she said. "All cultivation done not from the Ultimate Ground of Compassion is the illusion of the Ego, who thinks it is not part of something greater but rather, the greatest thing itself. Thus saith Ultramystic Sutasoma: Bodhichitta, or Waking-Mind, is Compassion for all beings. The path to Revolution is through this. In theory it is easy. But those that sound easiest are often the hardest thing to do."
They walked down the rushing river. They looked like a true warband. Or a traveling troupe of wandering swordsmen. Just from Sintra Kennin''s mien, or Akazha''s scowling demeanor, any would-be bandit would think twice attacking them now.
The greatest violence is always the one that ends it.
A daypart after Zenith our dear travelers created repose from walking to eat some of their rations. Raxri opened up rice balls wrapped in banana leaves, kept fresh as scorched adobo rice with shredded pieces of chicken within. The vinegars in the adobo worked as a preservative, keeping it fresh and free from growing mold, even when Jikajika had prepared the food the night before.
Raxri expressed their intense love for the food by flopping backwards onto the grass in ecstasy. "Gods, hunger grips me!"
Akazha ate very brusquely, leaning against a nearby moss-covered boulder, arm prepped up by a knee, sitting very widely. In usual society those assigned the role of a woman must move very gingerly, tenderly, demurely. But not Akazha: Akazha ate as if she were the drunk divorced uncle that practiced dangerous magicks that no one in the house would ever dabble in and routinely climbs mountains. She ate adobo as well, and then drank a jarlet of alcohol.
Raxri on the other hand drank a delicious milk tea. The milk was from a carabao, and it was lightly sweetened with honey.
Sintra Kennin did not eat, for he did not need to. He was a spirit. Though he got hungry, he would not die from that hunger. Not immediately, at least. He would have to burn through all his karma first. He sat in a perfect lotus seat (padmasana, as the masters would call it), with the sheathed dakgatana, God''s Brush Stroke, balanced perfectly across their two knees. "Friend witch Akazha," he began. "Why do you drink when the sun is so far up, and without companions?"
Raxri raised an eyebrow. Turned to Sintra. "Why would they not? Is it against social mores?"
Akazha chuckled. "In general, someone who drinks alone, without the company of a social event or friend, are those that tow the dangerous line of alcoholism and divinity." She turned to Sintra. "Friend Sintra Kennin, far travels like these require some modicum of alcohol to keep me sane. Any alcohol to keep me sane, in truth."
Sintra Kennin nodded. Thinking deeply. "You speak like those Divine Fools."
"Sintra Kennin, friend, if you would excuse this lapse in respect," began Raxri. "Usually spirits such as you would speak in formal register. Yet you speak to us as if we were talking mortal to mortal. Why is that?"
Sintra shrugged. "There is no metaphysical reason for spirits speaking in formal register. It is a symptom of spirit society: that is simply how we are to talk to those that are on a lower Path than us."
"I see," said Raxri, nodding even as they laid on the grass. Their cloudy, cream colored hair spread around them like a halo. "I like it. It feels like we truly are friends."
Sintra smiled at that. "That is good. I have none of those."
"What, feelings?" asked Akazha. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Sintra shook his head, not acknowledging the weird attempt at humor. "Nay. Friends."
"Ah," Akazha said, sighing. She drank another gulp of the alcohol jarlet and realized she was out of alcohol. "Right. Of course. Forgive me."
Raxri chuckled. "How sad of our dear river dragon prince!" They reached out their hand. "Worry not. We are your friends now."
Akazha turned around and brought out her betel nut chest from her satchel. She popped it open and offered a quid to Sintra Kennin. "Please. As friends."
"Only devotees have ever offered me betel nut quids," said Sintra. They said this completely straight-faced, matter of fact, without an ounce of pleading for pity. "I thank you, friend."
"It is better to have you as a friend than as an enemy," added Akazha, smiling. Sarcastically or not? Who could tell. One of the many gifts of Akazha Han Narakdag.
"I would wish, Sintra Kennin," Raxri interjected, staring at the sky. The weather was exceptionally nice today: the sun bore down on them directly, the sky was that color of lazuli. "That us being friends would not strike out the possibility of fighting with one another."
Chewing on the quid, Sintra said: "Of course not. We can fight as you wish. Spar. Why think you of this?"
Raxri sat up and stared at Sintra Kennin in the eye. "I want to get stronger. So you have to get stronger! I want to keep fighting and fighting. I want to see how far I can go."
Later on, as they walked (Akazha, at this point, sat lazily on a floating kalis, which moved forward at a glacial pace. When asked why Raxri and Sintra couldn''t get on, and why the kalis moved so slow, Akazha answered that they didn''t want to tire out their Sapi in case there were more dangers to come).
As they walked, Raxri asked: "So your father is truly a despicable person?"
Sintra smiled and shook his head. "I would not say despicable. Simply... I suppose... a victim of the momentum of history. You know what they say: the greatest violence is time."
"A passage from the Celestial Song," added Akazha, sleepily puffing out smoke. She looked like a true witch, all she was missing was a large, broad-brimmed hat with many tassels and decorations dangling from its rim.
Raxri did not know what the Celestial Song was, but decided to just ask about it later. "Right. Of course. Forgive me, I must have spoken out of line." Sintra waved his hand to signal to Raxri that they were fine. "So you harbor no ill-will to your father?"
Sintra Kennin stroked their flaming beard, deep in thought. "I suppose I do harbor ill-will toward my father. It is one of those things that I cannot remove due to the momentum of my own history. My father was hateful, prideful, looking to his own ambitions and legacy rather than treating me as a being on its own. It is always like that, would you not say? Fathers and mothers have a tyranny over their children, when the oldest of sages have said that you must be the bow to your children''s arrow. Not a lord who treats their children as trophies and things to be owned."
"So that is what you meant," said Raxri, thinking as well. Puksa hung loosely upon their waist. "You have my sympathies."
"Was your father and mother like this as well?"
Raxri blinked. They thought for a moment, and then said: "I... have been shorn of all memory, you see. So I do not know. For now... I treat everyone I meet like my mother and father."
Sintra Kennin furrowed their eyebrows in confusion. "That is an interesting perspective."
"It is one shared by many devotees of the Law," said Akazha, puffing out smoke. "Due to the nature of this world, we have been and we will continue to be reborn a thousand thousand times. In this truth we realize: everyone has been our mother and father at least once in our life. It is a good grounding for establishing compassionate thinking."
Raxri did not know that what they had thought of was something that was shared in the tradition of the Law. Another echo of their educated past, perhaps? With all this reflexes, was the Raxri Uttara of the past ever gone?
"I see," said Sintra Kennin, nodding in understannding. "This Law. What is it?"
Akazha looked surprised at that. She said: "You do not know of the Liberation Law of Awakening?"
"Ah, of course I do," said Sintra Kennin. "I have heard it multiple times. Many adherents and monks of the tradition make offerings to me with the Buddhas in their hearts. As they do this they generate merit, and so do we, the household of River Wetan. But I have never heard the tenets directly. I have never heard of the precepts, of the teachings."
"Would you like to know?" asked Raxri, tilting their head to the side.
Sintra thought for a moment, and then nodded. "I think I would. It has been used to help a large number of people, I can see. The Buddha... I see them sometimes. In glimpses of dreams, in the shadows within the shadows. But they seem too esoteric to me."
Raxri turned to Akazha, and Akazha shrugged and nodded. "Let me speak, Raxri. The problem with your understanding of the Law is that you are deeply entrenched into the understanding of the Esoteric side. That side that requires initiation into deeper mysteries. For the river dragon spirit we must speak of the Exoteric. The one that all can listen to and benefit from."
Raxri had never thought about that. They had never thought the Law that they were learning was esoteric, and that they had been initiated into it before. And so, ceding to Akazha''s greater learning, they nodded.
"Let us put it in plain terms," said Akazha, turning around on her sword and lying belly down upon it as, as if it were a bed. "For the true Buddha are averse to the words of the rhetorician. Who confuses and disturbs others with their looping and perplexing turns of phrase.
"The Law as we knew it was transmitted once again to us for this kalpa by this kalpa''s Jina. Conqueror Kitama Sanjah Murat was once royalty of the great tribe of the Sanjah, who lived in the region now known as the Refuge of the Gnostics, some three thousand years ago. That region used to be much more covered in land, but has now been turned into a collective of desert islands due to the Unification Wars.
"Once royalty, he denounced everything he had and lived a life of non-attachment. He once became an ascetic, but realized that asceticism brought him nothing but more suffering in a world of greater suffering, and he realized that the humans survive through community. Thus, the great Dog Sage taught the Four Precepts: This world is temporary. We crave what is temporary, and thus we are reborn. We can liberate ourselves by letting go of this craving. We can do this by following the Royal Road. And thus it is known as the Liberation Law.
"The Royal Road is many different things. And in truth, there are many different Royal Roads, but they are Royal Roads all the same. You and Raxri might know it by this term: Cultivation. The most basic, as taught by This Kalpa''s Conqueror, is that there is the Trinity Sacrosanct. These are Correct Ethics, Correct Meditation, and Correct Insight. Any being can follow this, and attain certain levels of Liberation. However, and the Jina has made this clear: this path is also the slowest possible path. Once you have cultivated this, every rebirth you will have afterwards will be one step closer to Liberation. Until you reach your eighth rebirth, in which case you will attain Extinction and become a Arhat Buddha."
"I see." Raxri nodded. "What does this mean? What is the correct insight that I must have?"
"The core of it is that all things are transient," said Akazha. "Your form, your appearance, who you are... these are all things transient and inherently devoid of essence. There is nothing at all that states you are Sintra Kennin. That is to say, you are inherently essenceless. At the end of your life, you will be thrust into the Interstitial, and then be reborn according to your Karma. You are nothing but a being living in this world with everyone else. Suffering along with everyone else. And it is important that you know this, so that you will have Correct Insight as you move into meditation, where you become greatly attuned to the inconsequentiality of this world that we live in."
"I have been meaning to ask about the Interstitial, Akazha," said Raxri.
Akazha nodded and said: "Patience, dear fellow. Our River Dragon Prince here must grapple with the existential dread that comes with Cutting Through Ego."
And truly so. Sintra Kennin''s brow was creased in greater thought. Their hand gripped at the sheath of their dakgatana God''s Brush Stroke. "What mean you? That I am nothing? That I am just a being that will disappear anyway? That there is no meaning to what I do?"
Raxri grapple with this for a quick second, but the understanding of what this meant, and the harmony with the truth of it, was deeply entrenched into Raxri''s Mindstream. This cutting away of ego is essential for becoming liberated. It is essential for transcending the world of suffering and finally living unbroken and unbeaten by the world itself. This cutting through of ego is hard to arrive at through sheer rhetoric alone. Or dispute alone. The fault of logic and rationality is that it fails in the face of the illogical and irrational. Logic is inherently weaker than its contrast.
Raxri readied themselves to help with Sintra Kennin''s understanding. They turned and looked and saw Akazha steadily observing Sintra Kennin as they tried to reconcile this paradox. Sintra Kennin was a spirit, after all. A native of this world. A being who has a seeming soul or essence: that they are a River Dragon, a being that lives within the River Wetan.
But then Raxri realized, what did that mean in truth? When the River Wetan will inevitably crumble away and become a lake in the future, or when the great icebergs of the world''s nine corners melt and force the Oceans to rise, and Pemi Island will disappear under the waves. And a kalpa ago the River Wetan did not exist either! It was a stream, or perhaps the rains had not even produced enough water from the tops of the mountains to produce enough to cut through the soil. And river Wetan came from a specific mountain: when does that mountain stop and the River Wetan begin?
The interpenetration of all things arose from Raxri. A submerged leviathan breaching once again.
Sintra Kennin then spoke: "All these things are new to me. Thank you for sharing with me the Law," he replied, nodding, stroking his beard.
Before long, they were on the road once again, walking down the great path that was the river. As they walked, Raxri turned to Sintra Kennin, about to ask another question. But before they could, Sintra Kennin asked: "So how long have the two of you been as one?" [2.55] - The Scarlet Sonnet
That thing we must aspire absolute unity to is that thing we call the Scarlet God. We call Rutra the Scarlet God for He has engorged and libationed the Universal Poison that arose from the Spider-Serpent Encircling The World, otherwise known as the Milky Way. Only He could have done such a feat, you know. Only he could have performed such greatness. Because to him, Death is not separate from life. Poison is not a killing substance. And this we must realize so that we would understand our Godly Nature, so that our Souls will finally return to Him. Through this, we attain True Liberation from the Wheel of Pain. From Unsurpassed Yoking Rituals
"What''s that?" asked Raxri.
Akazha, who was sitting down upon her flying sword once again, stumbled over and crashed to the ground. Her kalis skewered the earth.
In the silence that followed, Sintra said: "You two act like an elderly couple who has grown tired of each other." He laughed.
Raxri shrugged. "I have only known Akazha for around three moons. After they saved me from the Vault of Souls."
"Oh, that place opens yet? I thought for sure it had been abandoned. Its guardian spirits have left it."
"And!" Akazha stood and raised her finger, patting soil away from her clothes. "And. We are not together."
"I have been living under her roof as a tenant," said Raxri. "So we are together in the sense that we live together."
"Raxri it would be wise of you to abide in silence," said Akazha, turning to Sintra. "It''s not... ah, we are not together in the way that you think."
"I see," Sintra stroked his beard. A certain playful smile boiled underneath his fire. He was proud of himself for having been able to do do this to them. "But... would the two of you not want to be together in that way?"
"Cease." was what Akazha said.
"What way?" was what Raxri said.
Sintra chuckled. "Forgive me. I was simply teasing. These are things you will understand in due time, Raxri."
Akazha shot Raxri a look. "Don''t tell me you truly don''t understand what Sintra Kennin has been implying with this teasing."
"I can only ascertain that perhaps Sintra Kennin thought we were in a sort of romantic relationship," said Raxri scratching their head. "But I did not wish to be so arrogant and think that!"
"That''s exactly what he meant," said Akazha rolling her eyes. She kicked her kalis up into the air and then rode upon it once again.
Raxri wondered if they would wish to be in such a relationship with Akazha, though they quickly shed this thought when they remembered what they were supposed to ask Sintra Kennin. "Oh, right, Sintra Kennin, I was meaning to ask. Would you tell me about the Scarlet God faith? I would love to hear about it from the perspective of an adherent."
The three of them began walking down the river once again. "Ah, you''ve never heard of the Scarlet God before?"
"I have, but I''ve never been to their temples and worship sites," replied Raxri, shrugging. "I''ve heard of the Scarlet God, but I''ve never heard the Scarlet God."
"Well, I will regale it to you through my own experiences, rather than appealing to what is similar to the Law. I shall tell the foremost tales I''ve been told by my father''s court priests, who were in charge of educating us. "
"Very well."
Akazha stayed silent.
"The Creator of All Things, from which every thing arises, is what we call the Oversoul. This Oversoul is, in a word, supreme reality. Everything arises from it, and everything returns to it. This Oversoul is known to us as Rutra, that is the name they often choose to appear in this world. Rutra is the Howling Thundering God of Destruction. But not wanton destruction, not destruction in the way that only brings sorrow in pain. Destruction in the way that removes obstacles, allows new life to grow, allows for the creation of a universe.
"According to the Rutraya Elderlore, the foremost of our holy texts of which we have a large corpus of, this world was created after the Absolute Annihilation of the last one. After which deemed it fit to rest."
Raxri tapped their chin. "Why would the absolute reality require rest?"
Sintra Kennin replied, "Firstly because absolute reality should include all things that are, indiscriminately, would you not think? Secondly because the Oversoul must teach us mortals all things that are good. What is an Oversoul but an example? And so He teaches that the first thing one must do in the face of annihilation or creation is always to find repose."
Raxri nodded thoughtfully. Akazha watched Raxri''s reactions from upon her floating kalis.
"After resting, two Great Beings, known as the Highest Gods, emanated from his two nostrils. Both of them were colored differently. You see, Rutra is known as the Scarlet God only to us and only because of his scarlet fire and his scarlet throat. In truth, Rutra is the color of camphor, which is pure white in color. And He is Pure White because White contains all the colors within it, and so Rutra does so as well, containing all of reality within Him.
"The two Gods that slipped out from his nostrils were Prajjah the Golden One and Kresva the Black One. Prajjah was Gold because He slipped out first, and in the kalpa it took for Kresva to slip out next, he had Created this Universe, as that was his destiny. Then, when Kresva slipped out afterwards, he formed everything else from the created universe, and became its vaunted protector, for that was his Destiny. In Pemi Island and in the Eastern Timog Ra-Om, we call this word Damla. It is a multifaceted word that means: ''Your Duty Is The Destiny You Yourself Will Choose.'' In other words, it is to say: ''It is both the Law and Your Choice. It is both your Past and your Future.''
"When Prajjah the Gold and Kresva the Black saw each other for the first time, they both had thought they were the only ones to have emanated from the Great Resting Prime. And so they fought. ''I was born first and my essence is closer to Him!'' said Prajjah. ''I created all this Substance!''
"''I was born last and my essence is Him Perfected!'' argued Kresva the Black. ''I arranged all your Subtance into Beauty!'' And so they fought and warred to see who was the most powerful one, who was the one who deserved to be as Rutra. Eventually, their warring brough wanton destruction across the Realms and the entirety of the Cosmos, harming all those that lived within. They hurled galaxy sized mountains, struck with weapons burning with the light-fire of the stars, fought with blades forged from the dust of supernovas. They fought so much that the intense and viscous sea of chaos that covered and submerged the world was churned and evaporated, creating the blackness of the night sky you see today.
"But wanton destruction is rejected by none other than the Oversoul of Supreme Annihilation Himself. Due to this violence upon violence, Rutra awoke, and made the two of them fight Him. Of course, in the end, Rutra won. And that was when Prajjah and Kresva kowtowed to him, supplicated, and created the first altar to him in the shape of a spire piercing the sky, for that was how Rutra defeated them. By becoming a piercing light that shone and burned them. Thus, Rutra gave them their tasks and went back to sleep. But Rutra''s sleep is light. For he has gained great devotees in the mortal realms, who have been taught of the truth of the Supreme Oversoul. And so, with joy, the Absolute Reality taught the First Sage Kasappan the secret ways to Liberation. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
"He said: ''One can attain Liberation through devotion and ritual to Prajjah. One can attain Liberation throguh devotion and ritual to Kresva. For they are both me, and I am both them. But devotion directly to me will be the secret way, the lightning way, the way of the shining rainbow. Devotion directly to me will be the Expansion-Device Ideology, the practice of spreading salvation through technicks of mystic and magick, methods of controlling the Sapi within one''s self and one another, for I am Sapi and Sapi is I.''
"Thusly, the great Prime Sage Kasappan traveled across the unsundered lands to spread the Expansion Device Ideology. During this time, our people, the people that live here in this region that was once the Great Southern Continent of Jambu Strangler Figs, now the Utter Islands, were told of the story of the White One Turned Scarlet. In this it is told that during the fight between Kresva and Prajjah, their respective clans, Azram and Dyewa, also fought. And in this fighting they churned the sea of milk which lies far below the world after a great number of yojanas. In churning the sea of milk, the sea began bubbling and giving boons through its bubbles. One of the things that was churned out of this great act was the awful, hatesome Scathe--as it is known in Pemi languages, Rosakan. It is the great poison of the universe, the venom that tears down the things that binds us together, that eats away at Sapi. There was only one being that could contain that poison, and it was the One Himself, in which all beings are subsumed. That is to say, it is Rutra. He ingested the poison and it burned his throat, but He consumed it all the same. Pure scarlet blossomed from the Oversoul''s throat, and from there the world would never be the same, as He would be known as the Scarlet God, Swallower of Scathe."
A quiet silence passed by, then. As they walked, the afternoon winds sent dead and withered leaves from their tree-branches, framing the entire story in a flurry of dead leaves and falling flowers. Through this, they walked. Their feet crunched into dead leaves. Flowers fell and floated upon the rushing river. And they walked through this, down the river, following the path.
Raxri on their feet, Sintra Kennin with their hands folded together as they walked, God''s Brush Stroke now dangling from their bag, and the witch Akazha floating across the way upon her flying kalis.
Raxri said: "Wow. Wow! How hallowed and awesome. No wonder it is the most popular way in the Utter Islands."
Sintra Kennin nodded. "To be sure, it is the most popular way in the southern half of the Utter Islands. The northern half tends to have their own views and a difference in the faith they follow, or the Doctrines they pay heed to, but the Scarlet God Cult is most popular nonetheless."
"Right," said Raxri, walking now with both hands behind their head. Fingers interlaced. "Of course. The wiles of the northern half of the Utter Islands fascinate me to no end. What fabulations have they there?"
Akazha sighed and shrugged. "Who knows? We might have to go up there anyway, to continue our training."
Raxri''s eyes glittered. "Truly? Why do you say that, Akazha?"
"Well, the Ultramystic Sutasoma has hands everywhere. She can bring us almost anywhere our training needs us to go."
"This... Ultramystic Sutasoma," interjected Sintra Kennin. "She is a wizard?"
Akazha nodded. "Though she''s... far from being the kind of wizard you should bow and kowtow to, like a Court Preceptor. Nay, she is of the Ego-Beyond-Ego kind of wizard, having meditated staring upon a single cloud for 100 years straight, performing all 12 Animal Hand Seals and all 24 Vajra Hand Seals 108,000 times. She is a High Yokess, practitioner of the Unsurpassed Yoga, and a burning firebrand of the Revolution Law who has as her meditation deity the Twice-Buddha Violence Bodhisattva Dattreya Wairini."
Raxri blinked, surprised and somewhat impressed. Sintra Kennin said: "So she is an Immortal?"
"Until the arrival of the next Conqueror," said Akazha, nodding. Though she looked nonchalant as she said all these things, Raxri couldn''t help but believe that she was extremely proud of her master, the same way a son would be proud of an accomplished mother. "She is Immortal until then. Then, after receiving the teachings from a Jina, she will consummate her Limitless Revolution and join the host of Bodhisattvas in cleansing this World System from all its negative karma and saving all sentient beings."
Raxri blinked. "How... grand."
Sintra Kennin smiled. "It is a grand thing, to be sure. We have something similar as well, the ideas of the Buddhas. These are the mountain hermits, the Rishis, who work to save all beings and teach all beings. Perhaps your Ultramystic Sutasoma was a Rishi?"
Akazha nodded. "I''ve no doubt that she was. She''s learned in many different doctrines and ideologies."
"I want to be like that!" Raxri blurted out as the two conversed. "I wish to be one who is well learned in the various doctrines!"
"For what purpose?" asked Akazha, raising her head. She continued to smoke her pipe. In the meanwhile, Sintra Kennin accepted another betel nut quid from her.
Raxri thought for a while, finger tapping their chin, one hand propped up on their other hand. Then they said: "I suppose... to further mine own cultivation? To achieve the power that they had? I think... I think I would need power to be able to protect all those around me, right?"
"Right," said Akazha. "And only a fool would think otherwise. An idealistic fool who thinks truth is determined by righteousness and virtue, when in fact it is determined by those with power."
Sintra Kennin nodded, sad. "I would wish it wasn''t so."
"Why not?" asked Akazha, raising an eyebrow. "It has ever been this way. Power will dictate who is right, and who is forgotten, and who is scorned. Power dictates who will become King, and who will become Deposed. Power will dictate who is morally virtuous and who is not. That is the truth of it. That is the reality in which we live."
Raxri nodded, thoughfully. In truth, within their mind, they thought of some sort of rebuttal. To see if this was not all there is. If there was a possibility of some other form of conception of this world other than savage power and tremendous violence.
It was hard to do, of course. Even the very thing that spins all of reality--time--is nothing but an engorging, limitless maw that will consume all in its path. Until itself is consumed.
What is reality but endless, tremendous violence?
Akazha continued: "It would be fruitless, I would think, to navel gaze about a world that is better, or a world that is possibly better. We live in this one right now, we must navigate it with our principles kept close to our heart, so that none may take it from us, and assert our will into this savage world of bandits and slavers."
"I would understand intrinsically the structures that bind us and force us to be something other than what we wish," said Sintra Kennin. "I have been through it, like meat through the grinding mill. I am one who has been made by my father something I am not supposed to be. However, do you not think that this same power can be accrued and made to change the very world? To force it to become something better? What greater violence can there be?"
Raxri nodded also to this, thoughtfully. "What greater violence can there be than the one that can stop violence?"
Akazha looked up to the sky. "All wishful thinking," she said. "All thinking must comprise of a healthy balance, a middle way, between longterm and short term. We must do what we can for now, without being stuck in wishing for a new world to be born."
"And thus why I travel with you," said Sintra Kennin. He turned to Raxri and nodded at them. "To accrue and cultivate that very strength."
"So that is your objective, then?" asked Akazha. "To become stronger so you can change the world?"
"Whatever strength I can cultivate," said Sintra Kennin, nodding. "Through whatever means. Whether it be internal, external, social, financial, or what have you. The world will be better through all means."
"Does that end justify what you will have to do, then?"
Sintra Kennin raised an eyebrow. "You are one to speak, who casts the world in such a dark light."
"I cast no world in a dark light," said Akazha, shrugging. "I reveal it through luminous mind. You speak of a better world, but to achieve that you will have to do equally unspeakable things. Are you ready to do that? Are you ready to justify your means with your noble end?"
A silence. Uncomfortable. Raxri bathed in it. Churned in it. What an interesting air, they thought. What an interesting thought. What an interesting discussion. What will I get out of this?
After a moment, Sintra Kennin asked, with the sun still shining brightly over them, only slightly having moved on its path to its Sinking. "And what about you, witch Akazha? What is your noble end?"
Akazha gave a lopsided smile. It was truthfully comedic, bizarre, and insane. To the point that both Raxri and Sintra laughed at the face of it. The smile was like a blade, snipping the tensions that had curdled from the discussion. "That is for me to know and for you to find out."
Raxri wanted to get in on it, and wanted to lighten the vibe. "I think I have no particular end," said Raxri. "All I wish is to get stronger and stronger and to keep all that I can keep safe safe."
"Right," said Sintra Kennin. "And so your means is your end..."
Raxri shrugged. "I''m not sure if that is the right way to look at it, but I suppose it is one way to look at it."
"Very well. Interesting. Means as ends has always seemed so... antipragmatic to me. Too idealistic. Which is funny coming from me, an idealist!" and Sintra laughed. Raxri laughed too, but they did not think there was anything else to add to the discussion. It felt over, for that time being.
Then: "Ah, here we are." Akazha rose and stretched, and then gestured to the wooden port jutting out of the riverbank. And beside it was a giant, double-decked river barge, complete with two sets of outriggers, and giant triangular sails. It looked almost like a treasure fleet, or a grand imperial junk.
"The Wetan River Barge. This is one of the last stops." [2.56] - Ride The River Lightnings
In all the islands of the Utter Islands, save perhaps for the great island that is the Core of all things, where the Center Kingdom resides, it is the waterways that provides movement. Villages are built on streams. Cities on rivers. Entrepots on bays. Being cut off from a waterway means being cut off from transportation, exchange of goods, and other people. Nothing is more dangerous than being alone in the islands of the Utter Islands, where monsters outnumber the gods. From Poems of the Stream Monks
Hither, for a moment.
Let me sing and sonder about that yonder port. The Wetan River Port of the Eighth Degree.
A port town should have been built at this junction. That is the way of the world. But the Wetan River God promised to only protect and safeguard the river port junctions if no towns were to be built upon them. And as you no doubt already know, as the sun rises in the east, so does demonry and monstrosity run rampant in the Utter Islands and all of Hingsajagra.
And so it was not a haggling contest. It was a demand. The engineers of the Nunuk League knew they could not keep a town afloat without a tutelary deity. And the spirit politics of this particular section is that any being that must pledge to be a guardian spirit of a town by the river must pledge allegiance to the River God. Otherwise, the river god will simply flood it, again and again, until its banks are stained red for a few moments. And then that too will pass, for all things are fleeting, for human lives are transient.
Despite this, due to the economical advantage of having towns by the river, there have been small families that live right where the River Ports are that have pledged to keep the Ports safe, protected, maintained, and most importantly, faithful and devoted to River Wetan. These families became known collectively as the Wetanta-o, meaning, Wetan People.
Of course, the problem with having such a monopoly upon such a thing is that sometimes people are corrupted with ideals of control, authority, and of course, power. Many of the Wetanta-o have become a fierce people, nigh autocratic in their regard for those that would travel down the river. Though a number of Nunuk warriors and enforcers have been dispatched to take care of them, their corruption runs as deep as their culture, for there is none to force them to change their ways.
And why would they? They are only doing this to survive the coming flood, the end of the world, after all...
But what fools will think a single family survive, and not a community?
River Port 8 is the closest to River Port 9, which is right before Imos Town. That is, the Town at the river mouth, for that is what Imos means. More importantly, it is the busiest of all the River Ports, for a great number of tributaries feed just before here. Therefore it is the junction, and in many ways, it is the center of the universe.
It makes sense for a Prince of the Wetan Dragon to have been lying in wait here.
River Port 8 bustled. Layovers are common: people get tired having to sit for hours while cruising down the river. The port bore food stalls and other such booths: gifts for bringing to Imos Town, wherein international departures begin.
There were mostly preserved or nonperishable foods, milks preserved in cans by alchemists, food stored in sealed bags, self-freezing jarlets that can hold and preserve liquids of varying qualitites. All of these crafted by alchemists and wizards, who sell them to make a living or to help their community make a living, for in the end of the world a few joss sticks is enough to spell life or death.
And yes, they traded in joss sticks now, there. Joss sticks as a currency is more popular in the nodes directly connected to the monsoon market and to the international trade, for it is minted as the official currency of Hri Wessan, the God of Wealth and Trade. Multicolored joss sticks that, when burned, supplied soma for the gods they were offered to, and so they were also the international currency of the spirit societies that overwhelmed and interpenetrated the world.
Alongside the foods were local goods, of course: textiles of beautiful patterns and color combinations, weapons crafted by blacksmiths, beautiful earthenware jars and pots,
And truly, this port was one of the largest ones. A large cavalcade of beings could be found here: wandering enslaved hell beings that have been summoned to this earth by Wizards, who now work as dockhands for the port. Spirits roamed here too: dragon-headed or bird-legged, or horse-headed, or upright walking dogs, or giant civet cats clad in armor.
Of course, the majority of people here were humans of all kinds: sun-haired, moon-haired, ocean-haired, leaf-haired. With sharp ears like Akazha, or taller than the rest, or with skin as translucent as snow or as grandiose as the night. Or skin ruddy from working backbreaking labor under the Blasted Sun, and now they bear the Sun''s Holy Light mark upon them. Some of them were as tall as the night 1 and a half tails of Sintra Kennin, hulking over Raxri, while others were much shorter than Raxri, standing only at about two wings in height.
Such diversity was not new to Raxri. But the sheer number of people lounging about here, waiting for their river barges to disembark or to arrive, filled Raxri with a bit of a thrill.
The port extended from the river a good ways into the forest, signaled by shops and booths, illuminated with lotus light or with pureflame or with normal torches, clad in technicolor arrays. The road up and down the river were but tributaries to the main road upon which the port created its trade. But seeing as there did not seem to be any living cottages or sleeping cottages, the people here no doubt arrived here early in the morning from upriver or downriver to peddle their wares, and then went back home to their communities come nighttime.
Raxri walked with Sintra Kennin and Akazha. Akazha had hopped off of her kalis, now, so that she walked without any weapons. The three of them blended in pretty well with the vast diversrity of the crowd, though the foot traffic was not completely dense. The three of them moved through it safely, clad in their stylisht traveling raiments, looking like a small band of mercenaries. Those have become popular during that time. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The entire port was teeming with them.
As they walked past, a warrior walked into Raxri without another word. The two of them bounced off of each other equally. Raxri was the first to pick themself up, of course, used to pain as they were. "Oh, forgive me!" They helped the man up, and the man shook his head.
"Don''t you dare get your hands on me!" The man looked respectable, and was wearing a quilted gambeson and some fancy golden sandals. Paruka, as they would be called here.
Raxri pulled their hands back, confused.
Akazha stepped in and said, "Hey you! You fucker, give back the satchel!"
The man''s scowl turned into a burning grin. "Try and get it then!" The man''s human mien melted away, wax dripping. Revealing a giant, multi-headed spider clad in steel. They chittered away.
"Malichi''s Tits! Get back here!" Akazha sprinted after the scuttling spider. Raxri reacted quickly, and began running as well in their direction. Sintra ran after them as well.
A small crowed gathered around them but quickly dispersed after seeing the man turn into a spider.
"What was that?" asked Raxri as the spider scuttled past the cargo area of the ships, loaded with chests of luggage. Akazha and Raxri both used their Light Body Technique, taking large strides and bounding and flipping over crates and chests. They ran through a shipyard filled with carpents and engineers, and they had to slip and slide and vault over moving ship hulls and women working on engraving ship prows.
The spider almost lost them. It made the mistake of stopping for a moment to figure out if it wanted to travel into the forest, or leap onto a moving river barge.
Raxri and Akazha were there. Akazha stretched her hands out and began performing the mudras for her telekinesis. Up close, Raxri realized the procession of hand seals were of the 12 Animal Hand Seals category. Cat, Goat, and then Elephant.
The spider leapt. Akazha caught him, brought him down. Raxri flickered forward in a sudden burst of speed, surging like the rushing river.
Their fist coming down, down, down: smashed into the steel carapace of the spider.
The spider groaned. Raxri''s satchel went flying. Sintra Kennin was there to catch it, transforming from a quickflying dragonfly back into his giant form.
Akazha caught up to Raxri quickly enough.
Akazha sighed. "What is this now?" The spider squirmed under her telekinetic grip. "A fucking spiderwitch? Damn my eyes for not knowing. What made you think we were good targets?" Akazha scowled. She let go of her mudra and the spider''s body went limp. He sucked in air immediately, after having been pressurized onto the ground through sheer psychic power.
"The big one looked slow," the spider said, spitting and coughing and gagging. "He was the only one that looked like he could break my bones."
"Has anyone ever told you not to judge a book by their cover?" asked Akazha. She materialized her kalis in a ray of light, pulling it from the sun''s frail strands.
"Oy, oy, mercy! Mercy!" The spider squirmed. They tried to get onto their feet, but Sintra Kennin''s gigantic ironclad boot slammed against the spider''s chest, and their dakgatana pointed at their head.
Akazha shot Sintra an appreciative look. "You should know. Your actions have consequences."
"Forgive me! I... I was only looking out for my family. I''ve a lot of children, you know. 18 of them. And though they''re great kids it''s hard to earn a good living here! Everyone''s tryna kill everyone. No one wants to hire me because I''ve got no connections. Please, mercy."
"Then you should''ve thought of your children before--" Raxri''s hand shot out and grasped Akazha''s forearm. Stopped her kalis from descending from its perch, upon her throne of indignation. "What?"
"Free him." said Raxri. "I think that would be for the best."
Akazha pulled her hands from Raxri''s grasp. "You don''t understand. If we show even an ounce of weakness here in the Ports--in any Port Town--we''ll be seen as easy targets. They''ll keep stealing our shit. I''m not going to kill him. Just teach him a lesson."
Raxri shook their head. "Akazha, please. Let him go. Perhaps it will be enough." Raxri turned to the man. "You are a victim of all of this, like we are too. Please, consider a different approach to getting your needs. One that will not rob others of their hard-earned earnings. We all suffer under the same iron hand."
The spider''s mandibles chittered. He spat onto the ground. "You don''t think I haven''t tried? This is the only dependable way. If you were in my position you would understand. Kindness is not something I can afford."
Raxri pressed their lips together, deep in thought. Sintra Kennin pulled a gold core from their own pack. They gave it to the spider and said: "Here. The last of my personal wealth. Take it, and try to help those you need to help, starting with yourself. That should be enough for a jumpstart."
The spider''s eyes dilated at the core. "O, great heavens! A blessing from the gods!"
"Yes," said Sintra. "Please. It''s yours now. And I''m no god. Under the condition that you harm no one from here anymore. Please."
"Of course, of course!" The spider hopped up and took the golden core. He caressed it, pressed it together, held it in his mandibles. "Oh, it''s real. A true Sapi Core! The gods smile upon me this day."
He began dancing a jovial jive. Raxri stared at him with half a scowl. They were not sure what to feel.
Sintra stared at him with a smile. Proud of this act of altruism.
Akazha rolled her eyes. "That''s enough. Go now, and honor your word. If you don''t, I will turn Karma''s Wheel myself."
"Oh, thank you, most beneficent ones. I will remember this until the day that I die!" They spun around and bounded into the darkness of the forest.
Raxri watched them disappear into shadow. Their heart was in turmoil.
"Looks like we looked too easy of a target," Sintra Kennin said, sighing. "Forgive me. My vigilance shall be honed upon the whetstone of this event."
Akazha waved her hand. She turned to Raxri: "You know? Some people deserve what they deserve."
"It is against the very Precepts to slay another sentient being." Raxri did not look at Akazha. They looked down upon the crater that they had made after punching the spider-thief to the ground.
Akazha only let out an exasperated sigh. Her scowl did not leave her. She looked like she wanted to say something, but instead rolled her eyes. She walked away, back towards the port.
Raxri turned and began walking back as well, following Akazha. Sintra walked with them.
Raxri asked: "What does the Scarlet God say about slaying people, Sintra Kennin?"
"Well," Sintra Kennin folded his arms, suddenly deep in thought. "The teachings say that it is some people''s damla to kill people. That is why some people are born into families of knights and kings. To make war and to subjugate others that cannot be. Additionally, all things are dead in Rutra, so killing some people would not make a true difference once you have understood the Absolute Reality."
"I see." Raxri''s thoughts were hard to ascertain, now. Their thinking leaped from one concept to another: Should I have stopped her? Let her continue? Was that necessary? Sapi the spider-thief just do it all again due to not suffering consequences? But he did suffer consequences, I almost broke his exoskeleton. No doubt that must have done something! But what if it did not?
At the end of it, as Raxri joined the crowd again where Akazha was waiting for them without looking, Raxri swallowed all of their thoughts in a giant inhalation. They kept that inhalation circling throughout their entire body, scourging through their meridians, before exhaling, and letting that overthinking disappear along with it.
Some remainders stayed. As all things do. But even the remainders are transient, Raxri knew.
Akazha was puffing on a pipe when they returned. "Come on," she said, her voice hard. "The barge for Imos Town leaves." [2.57] Blood In The Water
The most used vessel in all the Utter Islands is the dugout canoe, or bangka in Selorong languages. Only takes a few days to make, and can go through both river and shallow sea. Recently, however, with the mounting volume of trade and travel, the outrigger ship has become the go-to vessel for all kinds of travel. Kings, chiefs, lords all compete with each other in showcasing who has the better barge. From Movement of the Winds Volume 2
The river barge to Imos Town was a double-decker outrigger ship, showing off giant sails that could be easily folded should the river move through an arboreal canopy. It was at least 20 tails long, caulked, and had spirit rowers on either side, who were enjoyably munching on euphoria pills as payment for their rowing, for they never tired in the same way human slaves would.
The captain of that ship was a half-spirit woman with heavyset dark circles around her eyes, skin the color of the dark brown of her ship. Her torso was clad in baluti, her lower half was covered in a two layered sarong, and she walked upon paruka. Her representative, some would say her atubang, was a smaller, louder woman. Plump and kind, but when she needed to call people to get boarding...
"WE STILL HAVE TEN MORE FREE SLOTS FOR IMOS! COME ON IMOS! WE NEED TO GET THIS PACKED BEFORE WE CAN GO! BARGE FOR IMOS IMOS IMOS!" Her voice boomed over the rest of the callers.
Akazha walked straight past her, up the gangplank, and into the barge. Raxri and Sintra followed. Akazha did not wait for them, and so Raxri and Sintra Kennin had to chase her just to keep up. Eventually she found a seat by the edge of the upper deck, overlooking the river (though this part had a roof overhead to combat the sun).
She sat and puffed. Raxri and Sintra, both breathing heavily, caught up after her.
"Hey," began Raxri. "Pray, tell me, if anything bothers you."
Akazha stayed silent, looking out at the river.
Sintra Kennin said: "I believe she is upset."
Raxri thought about it. Was it because of them trying to stop her from killing the spider? "Be this about the spider?"
Akazha did not look. On the other hand, they seemed to be enjoying fully their pipe.
Raxri sighed. "Forgive me. But it is the Liberation Law. Compassion, loving-kindness... What kind of rival would I be if I couldn''t help you control yourself?"
Akazha mopped her face. Looking like a hamster. "Shut up."
Raxri would have began scratching at their own face out of frustration, but they decided to let it be, for now. "Very well," said Raxri, sighing. They pulled out their own pipe and walked over to the other side of the barge.
Sintra Kennin looked around awkwardly. "Uh," he began. "Would you--"
"Keep Raxri company for me, will you?" Akazha forced a smile, and then she looked away and her smile flickered away.
"As you wish," said Sintra Kennin, blinking all the while. He turned and walked over to Raxri.
Raxri leaned against the railing, watching the rest of the people upon the port. It bustled to the brim. It was just about moonrise, after all. Perhaps these are all people going home to Imos Town as well? Raxri heard at least 2 other callers and barkers saying they were headed for Imos Town. All barges heading for Imos Town.
Sintra Kennin leaned on the railings with them. They stayed like that, silent for a while.
They watched as the workers pulled the gangplank back. The servant spirits walked over to the outriggers and began paddling with oars taller than they were, around 2 tails long. Slowly but surely, the giant barge began moving out of their moorings. It wasn''t long before they cruised down the Wetan River''s flow. When they did, the servant spirits slowed their paddling. Some of them only needed to paddle to correct the direction of the barge.
They cruised down the river. Raxri wondered why they didn''t have some sort of turbine to power the barge with karma too. Or perhaps... not everyone can afford one. Or it''s not really something to be used for boats and vehicles.
Raxri asked, without looking at Sintra Kennin: "How long be the travel again, Sintra?"
"I''ve heard it will take a hour. I''d suggest resting for a moment, recline. Ease your mind."
"Right." Now would be a great time to meditate, Raxri thought. The barge was filled with people, however. They could not find a good enough spot to sit and absorb. They were still not in that state of samadhi.
Raxri sighed.
"I''m glad they let our weapons on board," said Sintra. "I was certain that they would confiscate it."
"Hm? Oh, that is full true. A sign of the times, eh?"
"Should the barge be attacked by monsters, there will always be someone to protect it as long as the passengers have weapons," said Sintra Kennin. "If I knew it was anything than a cost-cutting measure, I would have applauded it!" He laughed. Raxri cracked a smile as well.
Sintra Kennin was too afraid to talk about the tension between them and Akazha. Raxri appreciated it, nevertheless. There was nothing that had to be said, for now. Time must pass, as the river flows.
Raxri turned and their heart almost dropped when they did. Off in the distance, a tall man--though not as tall as Sintra Kennin--clad in that armor. Lamellars and brigandines and tassets of interlocking, interweaving dragon scales. Pheasant feathers long and flowing form the top of their peaked helmet.
They took that helmet off when they approached Akazha.
Akazha meditated while leaning against the railings of the barge. She did not need to be thinking about anything right now. She had to forgive Raxri--she knew that was the better thing to do. Or worst, ignore whatever they tried to do. But things done in her fits of fury are more easily justified.
She knew that was delusion too. The Mind, however, is a wild, leaping thing.
She mopped her face. Took out a pipe. Lit it, puffed out smoke. It wafted from the dragon.
"Does the smoke help alleviate your troubles?" A voice. Deep, inflection of a gentleman.
Akazha scowled. She did not want to be troubled as of the current moment. She looked sideways without turning her body and saw that it was that Shennin man. The warlord looking motherfucker. The general-turned-adventurer looking motherfucker.
"I would know," he said, smiling. "It helps me."
"Grand," said Akazha. "However, I seek no companionship as of this moment. Please, space." This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
They both spoke in Putunghwa.
"A-ah, yes. Of course. Forgive me." He put on his helmet again, as if defeated. He had a full head of luscious black hair beneath them, matted, straightened, and then tied up into a strict bun so that it didn''t interfere with his war-vision. "I would like to stay here and rest. If it is all right with the lady."
"It is not," barked Akazha back. "Leave me. There are plenty of other women you can try and fuck."
"M-milady! I...! I meant no such thing!" He genuinely did sound so offended. It made Akazha smile. "I was... I was simply meaning to ask something."
"Then ask? Why did you not ask it beforehand?"
Sat Lang coughed. Gulped. Then he said: "What would the pearlescent milady''s name be?"
"Wrong question." Akazha subdued the urge to kick the man in his balls.
Sat Lang coughed again. As if he had something stuck to his throat. "I am Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang of Yitsen, deployed in Fort Arajizo of the Southwest Gahara."
Akazha rolled her eyes and said: "I don''t quite remember me asking what your name was?" She still did not turn to look at him.
At this point, Akazha knew that he was trying to get something out of her. What she wanted did not matter. Her hands were ready to go into the two-handed animal hand seals. If this man wanted a commotion, then he will get it.
"I was hopeful that with such a name I would be able to wring out a modicum of cooperation."
"You have failed. Leave and try again next time." She puffed out smoke. Her Sapi blazed, controlled by her samadhi. Ready to unleash into magick or violence, the two sides of a single coin.
"I am simply come to ask again... have you seen the Heaven Dancer, Raxri Uttara?"
Akazha sighed. Smoke coiled from her lips. She turned.
Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang grinned smugly.
"What are you grinning for? This is the second time you have disturbed my peace to look for that Raxri Uttara. I do not know who that is. I have never seen a cloud-headed ''heaven dancer'' in my life. Now if you do not leave me be, things will get horribly loud."
Jin Sat Lang''s curved blade was partly unsheathed. It looked huge, a Shennin scimitar. "I would advise against any rash action, witch Akazha." His voice was low, now. Both demeaning and threatning. Akazha''s scowl only grew. "Everyone on this barge knows who I am and what I am. None of these sheep will move for you."
He was right. Everyone moved around the decks without a care for Jin Sat Lang, despite him bearing the most flamboyant of armors upon a river barge. There will be no help from them. Aside, of course, from Raxri Uttara and Sintra Kennin.
Akazha sighed. Using her samadhi, she felt out to feel the strength of Jin Sat Lang''s Cultivation. It burgeoned like a flower and crashed against her, wave to the shore. He was a stage or two above her, to be sure.
Her thoughts lingered again to Raxri Uttara of the Past. Who were they, really? Were they truly an enemy of heaven?
Thankfully, Akazha wore clothing lined with yantra and mantra. Her tattoos also protected her. Should she bruise from what she was about to do, she will be able to fend off most of the harm from her vitals.
Was she really going to do this? In her samadhi, her swords pointed invisibly at Jin Sat Lang.
"The captain of this ship saw you enter this very barge with two other people. A tall black human and a... cloud haired swordmaiden. What does this reveal, Akazha Han Narakdag?"
Her scowl became even greater. "Tell me what you wish to do."
"Oh, I wish to take Raxri Uttara and bring them straight to heaven. Then I will be awarded with immortality, and I can stop being an intern at a warlord''s broken home, and enjoy the pleasures of power and heaven. I would not think that to be such a worthless endeavor. I believe that to be quite reasonable."
"Reasonable for a lesser man, yes," said Akazha. "To crave such power is a sign of an idiot, and not of the holy kind."
Jin Sat Lang''s giant scimitar was against Akazha''s neck. Nicked it. Drew blood. "Tell me where Raxri Uttara is or your head falls off of this barge and becomes feed for the dragons of the river--"
Raxri was there, suddenly, Devastating Red Hand slamming against Jin Sat Lang''s face.
When Raxri saw all of this go down, they and Sintra Kennin watched with curious horror. They knew that this was the Shennin general that searched for them. Sintra Kennin said: "We should go."
"Calm. Akazha knows what she does."
They watched for a few more moments.
Jin Sat Lang pulled out his scimitar and pressed it against Akazha.
"Does this statement hold even now--" Sintra Kennin began, but Raxri was already sailing through the air, fist burning bright scarlet. They did not even unsheathe Puksa.
Their Devastating Red Hand crashed against Jin Sat Lang''s face.
The trees behind them shuddered. The boat rocked to the right. Everyone on board cried out, clinging for dear life.
The Lieutenant''s face only slightly budged from the impact.
Raxri scowled. Akazha breathed, then felt the razor sharp of Jin''s scimitar prick her skin.
"So this is the cloud-headed fiend. THIS is Raxri Uttara?" Jin Sat Lang grabbed Raxri by the wrist--quicker than they could take it back--and pulled the Heaven Dancer down, down, down. Until their corpus cracked against the railing of the ship.
Both wind and spit left Raxri. They were reeling. Nihawa scrambled. Inner Lightnings shooting out in every direction. Their core meridians caved in.
They could not even speak.
Jin Sat Lang turned around. Brought Raxri with him. He forced Raxri to their feet, and then brandished his scimitar. "Put on a good show, Raxri Uttara!"
Raxri shook their head, clapped their hands against their face. They recentered. Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang allowed them to regain their concentration. Their battle samadhi.
"Who are you?"
He raised his scimitar. It gleamed crimson against the setting sun. "I am Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang, of the Shennin Colony of Fort Arajizo of Southwest Wadzara. My deeds are yet unknown to you lot, but that shall not be the case overlong! The world will know my name!"
Raxri Uttara unsheathed Puksa, and then readied their live hand, imbuing it with Whorl Guard so that it was steel against the scimitar''s blows.
"No great proclamation from They Who Danced Against The Heavens? From the Thundering Swordmaiden Raxri Uttara?"
Murmurs rippled across the crowd. They''ve moved to opposite ends of the barge.
Raxri''s eyes flitted from side to side, unsettled. They had no space for words. When their Sapi''s flame flickered back to life, they engaged it immediately, manipulating it through their Nihawa. Subtle Body burst through. They dashed forward.
So did Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang.
Despite his heavy looking armor--which looked not too different from the heavy lamellars that Sintra Kennin wore--he moved with storm quickness. He was taller than Raxri by a full claw and that gave him the advantage no doubt. But the Adamantine Sword relished in the disparity of space when it came to shorter versus taller warriors.
Jin Sat Lang lunged forward with both hands on his scimitar. His first move was a diagonal scimitar slash. This Raxri moved into, moving diagonally to his left, to both avoid the slash and to also cut at his gauntleted hand. Raxri felt Puksa slice against the gauntlet, but it no doubt dealt some blunt force trauma.
Raxri, now in a position where Jin Sat Lang''s back was turned to them, unleashed Adamant Lightning Strikes.
Twelve strikes in the span of two breaths.
Puksa''s gleaming blade clanged and carved against the scale armor.
Jin Sat Lang kicked backwards. A move known by the many martial artists onboard as Horse Defies The Rider. Raxri caught the blow fully on the chest. The force sent them flying backwards. They had to steady themself with their Light Body Technique.
Gasping for air, Jin Sat Lang spun around and unleashed a slash of razor wind from his scimitar. Ready for it, Raxri took on the wide stance of Heavenly Lightning Deflection. They timed it nigh perfectly, the attack shattering against their deflection.
But that move was nothing but a distraction.
Jin Sat Lang was already upon Raxri. Their hulking figure blotted out the sun. Their scimitar, giant, in an arc of mortal karma. It swung down. Raxri blocked against it too late. Their Whorl Hand shattered. Their Sapi faltered. Their tattoos strained against the sheer damage inflicted by Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang.
Raxri used Whorl Guard to redirect the attack to their left, as they dove to their right. It was the right choise. The blade crashed into the deck''s bamboo slat floor. Raxri spun and hit the ground, steadied themself.
Their entire left hand blossomed purple. The interweaving of all of Raxri''s defensive talismans forced the slashing energies to be turned into blunt force. Of course, despite that, despite that. Raxri felt like their hand had been broken all the same.
Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang turned, and he seemed as regal as ever, even after unleashing such monstrous strength. "No. What a fucking disappointment you are!"
Raxri reached for their breath. It took all of them not to fall onto their knees. Their entire left arm felt like it was out of commission. "This is not the Raxri Uttara I was promised. There is no glory in this!"
Raxri still could not speak. Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang walked forward. He raised his scimitar. An executioner. "Nevertheless, a bounty is a bounty. Immortality awaits!" All this time he spoke in that accented Bazaar Kyapo. When he brought his scimitar down, he snarled something in Putunghwa; in his native tongue.
The arc of his scimitar was a brush stroke across the sky. It flurried. The strength and speed and weight at which it moved seemed to attract all focus upon his blade. It was an arc of deliverance.
It slashed the sky first before its burning arc cleaved downward.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Straight toward the fully blown wide open Raxri Uttara. [2.58] The Phoenix Blade Strikes
One of the greatest magical animals of the current age is the Phoenix. Known in High Hegemonic as funghong, the phoenix is the wind sovereign and the god-king of all birds. It can control the elements of fire and it is the great partner of the immortal dragon/luong. It is said that the great Shennin Hero Giro and his brother Kida defeated the Devil King Roghan by channeling the Na-Wo essence of the dragon and phoenix. From Treatise On Mythical Creatures Of The Modern Time by Scholar Tirundavar
Pang!
The bright flashing sound of a dakgatana meeting the scimitar.
Jin Sat Lang''s blade rebounded. Deflected. Sintra Kennin stood there, perfect blocking form, hands outstretched, pitch arms straining at the weight of the strike.
The two blades vibrated. The scimitar and the dakgatana clanging together was the gong of violence.
There! Akazha''s hand shot out, planting a palm leaf manuscript upon Jin Sat Lang''s armor.
Jin Sat Lang turned. His hand shot out. It caught Akazha''s neck. Akazha summoned two kalises with a flex of her mudras--her hand were still free, after all. They shot toward the Lieutenant. The Lieutenant swung his scimitar in a wide arc and parried both kalises away.
Distracted, Sintra Kennin performed a fearsome overhead slash. Straight down into Jin Sat Lang''s right wrist. The wrist upon which the hand that choked Akazha rested. The dakgatana slammed into the gauntleted wrist. Jin Sat Lang roared in pain and let go of Akazha.
But his scimitar was a flashing dragon. Steel met Sintra Kennin''s armor and the cannonball force cracked the lamellar. Sintra Kennin stumbled back.
Akazha lightly fell to the floor on her feet. She performed six mudras in rapid succession: Thunderbolt, Dog, Guardian Lion, Heaven, Earth, Saber. Jin Sat Lang unleashed his scimitar onslaught upon her. Akazha wove and dodged it all by fluttering back and avoiding the blade swipes. Flipping over wide horizontal slashes and spinning to the side to avoid the tight vertical cuts.
She finished her mudras. With two fingers, Akazha performed a diagonal cutting gesture and said: "IWA IWA!"
Half of Jin Sat Lang''s body armor fell away--cut completely and perfectly in two--exposing the Lieutenant''s extremely toned midriff from the rest of his armor.
Jin Sat Lang''s face ignited into wrath. "You churl! I will shatter your airy brains!" Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang erupted in an onslaught of rapid sword-strikes against Akazha. Akazha parried and fought back--even managing to trade the same rapid blows--by performing a mix of sword-summoning, Adamantine Sword, telekinesis, and Whorl Hand techniques. At the end of it, however, she barely managed to avoid a scimitar strike and caught it against the side of their belly. As if in sick retort: revealing Akazha''s own pure pale saffron skin.
That blow slowed Akazha down enough for the final strike to have been something that dealt a grievous wound. But Akazha summoned her Sapi and threw her kalis into the sky. As it reached the height of the throw, Akazha performed the mudras again in rapid succession and screamed: "Flying Self-Carving God Flash!"
And Akazha was there, grabbing the sword. A flicker. A blink.
The scimitar''s arc was already going down. It could not be stopped. The only thing that would stop it would be the boat. And the other travelers that were there, pressing against the railings, trying not to get hit. They were caught there, unable to make for the safer portions of the ship, away from the fight. Some even leaped out and into the water to escape the scimitar''s explosive arc.
Raxri was there. Puksa gleamed--they imbued it with their Sapi. Summoning all their Sapi they performed an incomplete Heavenly Lightning Deflect. The scimitar crashed into Raxri''s blade Puksa. Raxri redirected the force of the blow into a powerful galeforce surge of wind that burst into the sky.
Gritting their teeth, left hand useless, they said: "No casualties here. Have..."--Raxri winced--"some honor!"
Sintra Kennin''s giant boots slammed into Jin Sat Lang''s side, sending him reeling. He snarled: "Water Dragon Saber Style: Tributaries From All Directions!" Sintra Kennin cut in flowing, river current movements. He struck from all 12 directions. Cuts materialized in Jin Sat Lang''s face, arms, legs. Some of the dragonscale armor chipped off. Leather belts and cloth knots undone causing shinguards to fall.
Sintra Kennin''s onslaught exhausted, Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang--who was nowhere near as tall as Sintra Kennin but just as quick and just as strong--quickly parried back with their own steel flurry, a strike like a reverse-blossoming peony. Sintra Kennin cried in pain as they desperately tried to keep their defense up. Exhaustion gripped him after going all out with their Water Dragon Saber attack.
Just as Sintra Kennin desperately pushed away an sword thrust that would have punctured his left shoulder, a screaming gunshot ripped through the tense air. The hypnotizing, xylophone-and-gong-like reverberation of the clanging swords ended.
Pulled down from that state of elevated violence, Jin Sat Lang stopped their attack and turned.
Blood blossomed from his abdomen. Where the armor had been ripped off.
The Captain of the ship--Captain Ampalila--had shot him with a dragonmouthed arquebus.
"Clash blades further under certain threat of punishment," she said, her voice still tired. "No fighting on my ship. You''re paying for the charges!"
Jin Sat Lang roared: "Know you who I am? This bullet wound will do nothing!"
"The bullet is engraved with poisonous mantra," said Captain Ampalila. She reloaded her gun. She did not even look at the Lieutenant as she did this. "You are a strong cultivator, yes. But any more of this Rakhrin poison in your blood will coagulate your very Waters. You think I, a Captain of a Ship, do not know a thing or two about Cultivators and Wizards?"
Jin Sat Lang frowned. His furious, fire-like eyebrows ignited his gray eyes. He raised his scimitar and Captain Ampalila raised her arquebus once again and pressed: "Leave. Or die. It is your choice. We always have that." The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
With an indignant scream, he whistled a rising tune. At the end of it, his majestic peafowl mount flew in. "I will have your flesh yet, Raxri Uttara. Your body is mine." And then with another crow, his peafowl leapt into the air, twisted for a moment, and then disappeared into the Pemiwood.
The other passengers of the ship were silent. Eyes wide with awe. A mixture of "Did we just witness martial artists fighting?" and "Martial artists sure are dangerous... I never want to be near one again!"
Raxri collapsed onto their butt, and sat. Akazha floated down beside them. Sintra Kennin ripped off his lamellar armor to show that a fierce bruise now burgeoned from where Jin Sat Lang''s scimitar struck them.
"Now that is a powerful martial artist," said Sintra Kennin, looking to where Jin Sat Lang disappeared into the forest.
Akazha knelt down and checked on Raxri''s left arm. It was completely limp. "Can you feel anything from it? Can you move it?" Raxri shook their head on both questions. They could no longer feel their arm, but they knew it was still there. The pain was so great Raxri''s body could not register and interpret it.
Akazha pulled out some healing ointments and oils and began applying it.
The captain arrived and knelt down before Raxri. "That will need bandaging and some pills. And rest. Come, follow me. Not out here."
Sintra Kennin and Akazha carried Raxri to the portioned off section of the barge behind the entire passenger region. There, two small beds upon the floor and two wooden desks. They seemed to be for the captain and their barker.
Akazha finished up wrapping up Raxri''s arm. They coated it in healing oils, pierced the meridians with acupuncture needles, and then lined it with poultices that were then pressed upon the arm by the means of a gauze. Then, the captain offered Raxri a Reliever Pill to relieve the pain and throbbing. Raxri took it.
Catching their breath now, finally, they felt sleepy. All the adrenaline wearing off--
The room was not large. Sintra Kennin definitely would not be able to fit in here--Raxri immediately thought about how Sintra Kennin would fit into any of the houses in Pemi Island but then immediately bunkered those thoughts for another time.
"How fare you?"
Raxri winced and said: "Better--_ngh--_for now."
"That Jin Sat Lang is powerful. He has no doubt been training for decades."
"I felt his power," Raxri said. "I could not penetrate even his armor."
"His armor is of exquisite make," said Akazha. "As expected by someone from Shen. It will be hard to penetrate even for the most accomplished of mortal cultivators."
A quiet fell upon them. A fire burned in Raxri''s heavy-lidded eyes. "I am not yet where I want to be."
Akazha furrowed her eyebrows. "And where do you want to be?"
"Strong enough to protect everyone."
Akazha shrugged. She sipped on a porcelain cup of tea. "No one was harmed in the barge other than us three, for the most part. That is a victory in and of itself."
"True that may be, you know what I mean when I say these things."
"Then you better train hard," said Akazha.
"I will," replied Raxri. They inhaled. Akazha herself winced for a moment.
"Are you okay? Your neck..."
"Healed," said Akazha. They showed her neck and the wounds and bruises there were miniscule compared to the wounds Raxri had taken. "They were lesser wounds. No injuries. Just light flesh harm. Nothing grievous, especially compared to yours. Stop worrying about me for a moment. It will not do you harm to think of yourself."
"Right. Of course." Raxri looked up. "But that Lieutenant. He seemed as though he was of the Glaives Of Heaven. Those bounty hunters are fearsome."
"Fully fearsome indeed," replied Akazha. "There''s no knowing how strong the next one we meet will be."
"I should leave you. I should travel on my own."
Akazha raised an eyebrow. "And leave you to die? I''d be a fool to permit such a thing."
"But you will suffer because of me. If you stay where I stay, then you will have to keep fighting these powerful Cultivators that are after my flesh."
"So be it," said Akazha. Raxri could not read if there was hesitation in their eyes. "I will see your memories returned. I will see your strength returned. That is all there is to it."
"You should leave me alone."
Akazha inhaled. "Rest." She reached over and closed Raxri''s eyes. "Your doubts and your fears shall wither away with the river''s current."
Raxri could not understand why Akazha would not agree. They knew they were right. But then why? Of course, Raxri fully appreciated Akazha''s help. Were it not for her--or for anyone else really that has helped them--they would''ve been dead the second they stepped out of the Vault of Souls.
If they wish to be with me, then they must be my responsibility. I must become strong for them, so that they will not have to fight. My strength... where have you gone? My power. Return to me quicksome and with haste. The world awaits us.
Terrified of the too close encounter, Raxri broke eye contact with Akazha.
Terrified of the consequences of that, Raxri turned to look at Akazha again.
The door swung open. In walked the captain and her barker. Sintra Kennin''s silhouette blocked the door. He could not enter, despite wanting to. He had removed his armor now, shattered as it was. Raxri felt sad for him. We should buy him a new one when we have the chance.
"How is the warrior?"
Akazha turned and rose to her feet. "Good. I thank you, Captain Ampalila, for your gracious offering of room for our dear friend here."
"It is quite all right," Captain Ampalila said. "I would not suffer a warrior to die in my barge." She knelt down and inpsected Raxri up close. "You sure you''re all right? Your arm should have been ripped off by the looks of it. You must have really strengthened your inner power for this."
"My Sapi? I''ve tried but I''m nowhere near the power I need to be."
"You don''t need to be anything. Stay down." Raxri had tried to get up. Raxri laid back down. "You sure you do not know that man?"
Raxri looked at Akazha. They looked at each other, and then shook their heads. "No," said Akazha. "Though we know that he is Lieutenant Jin Sat Lang, as he so graciously announced himself."
Captain Ampalila''s atubang, Dewita, spoke up: "He asked me if there was anyone with cloud-hair that had gone into the barge. I assumed he meant you? But having light hair is not particularly rare, especially so close to the sun''s rising." She tapped her chin.
Raxri and Akazha looked at each other again. Silent understanding between the two. Be careful with your words. Captain Ampalila might sell you out.
Raxri decided that it was getting exhausting having to move around so gingerly, and have to hide one''s self so thoroughly so as to not suffer another killer on their tails.
"We do not know either," said Akazha. "He could be some sort of Shennin adventurer looking for some trouble. Perhaps he was looking for something specific?"
Captain Ampalila pointed at Raxri. "He called you Raxri Uttara."
Raxri swallowed and nodded. "Ah, yes. He did."
"So that is your name?"
Raxri nodded again. "That would be correct."
"All right. I do not know why he is looking for you specifically Raxri Uttara. But I do not particularly care either. I will not suffer potential damage to my barge. Unfortunately there already is damage to my barge. Brought upon by your fighting. Now, I can tell that you''re not the instigator here in any way. That Lieutenant has been harrassing our passengers looking for you, Raxri Uttara. I do not know what quarrel you have against each other, but you are still under my protection while you ride within this boat. That said, I will need some form of reparation for the repairs I will need to do upon my barge, and the lost days of work I''ll get from it."
Akazha licked her lips and said: "Right. Yes. Of course. Uhm. How much would you gather this to be?"
The Captain rose and sat in a lotus seat position. She thought for a moment--almost looking like a moment of meditation--and then said: "1,000 joss. That will be just about enough, I would think."