Hmmph... this junior is a good seed [Cultivation Management Quest]

[BadAtScreenNames]

...Hooo boy. Okay. Um... Pinging @Alectai for a new Good Seed. Because... Well, I like this quest a lot, basically.

Maria

Spoiler: Here she is as a teenager.

Spoiler: And also here, in her legionnaire armour!

Spoiler: And here she is again, rocking her new post-three masters look!

Spoiler: In which Maria loses her temper.

Spoiler: And here's Lyssa, Maria's split personality slash sister slash clone

Gender: Female.
Age: 97 (at start of turn 11)

Lifespan: 200 years​

Cultivation: 10th Heavenstage of Qi Condensation

Cultivation-Year Equivalent: 173 years​

Cultivation-Years to next stage: 15 years​

Impact: 0
Health: Lightly Wounded (at start of turn 11)
Treasures:

None​

Former Treasures:

Mask of Kuei Shin Tensei (Lifesaving treasure, Turn 8 omake bonus). A simple full-face mask made of black lacquered wood, with a stylised moon rising above a hill carved on the forehead. Maria took it from a blood path cultivator she encountered on the way to Three Frogs. It contains what's left of his cultivation, and the crystallised lives of the people he killed to forge it. Should she take a life threatening wound, the mask will feed her its qi to heal her. As it cannot be replenished or repaired, it's single use only. (USED IN TURN 9)​

Appearance: Deeply, unhealthily, inhumanly pale, and doesn't know why. Medical scans suggest it's something to do with her mix of turtle and Golden Devil heritage, but even that's a guess. Short, stocky, well-muscled. Slim, delicate features; she'd probably be pretty if she didn't have the worst case of resting bitch face on the entirety of the Turtle. Missing her right eye, and does not wear an eye-patch. Takes any suggestion she should as a challenge. Wears her hair shaggy and loose around her shoulders – she takes care of it, but doesn't really know how to and just *refuses* any help on the subject, so it tends to matte a bit until she essentially has dreads and just dunks her head in water until it's fixed. Basically lives out of her legionnaire's armour.

Background: The vast majority of Golden Devil clan members stay amongst their own. It's simpler. Most clans, sects and cultivators will happily murder them for heaven's favour, after all, and those are the kinder ones. And yet, for all that, somewhere in a slave pen, far away from the desert, a slave child was born with golden hair. That she wasn't immediately hacked apart for the favour of the Righteous is, in itself, a miracle. Her mother, desperate to save her daughter, dulled her hair with mud and dirt. It worked for a while, but good luck runs out for everyone – the children of the Lost Ones, most of all. When the child was found out, she was six years old.

But her owner was the exact right combination of stupid, clever, cruel, and calculating. He also owned a grubby, secret little arena where he'd make his property fight, and kill, and die. The child made for a fine draw. After all, it's not every day you get to see a Golden Devil bleed out in front of you. Except she didn't bleed out. She survived. Over and over again, alone in that place, the child survived. She won bout after bout, against impossible odds, and when she couldn't win, she walked away alive. It was a bad way for a child to grow up. But it was better than a pauper's grave.

Then, at fourteen, a chance to escape presented itself; she found herself suddenly overcome with a deep and blinding rage. When it cleared, she was free. To this day, she doesn't know what happened, or what she did to get out. Part of her wanted to go back and ensure her owner was dead. Instead, she fled. She knew she was a monster, born of a clan of monsters. Seemed as good a place as any to go. It took her three years to cross the many territories between her and the desert. But when she finally made it, she found herself surrounded by people who saw her, first and foremost, as family. They taught her to read. They gave her a name. They told her the truth of who she really was; not a monster, but a scion of a great and ancient legacy. A force for cosmic justice, against a cruel and savage heaven.

Cool Thing(s) (I may have gotten carried away)

• Stubborn like WOAH. Maria has basically survived this far by just refusing to die. That has not made her particularly good at things like compromising, listening to other people's opinions, or changing her mind, but hey, do what you can.
• Berserker. There is a button, somewhere deep inside Maria's brain, marked "NUCLEAR OPTION – DO NOT PRESS." Sometimes it gets pressed anyway, and Maria goes batshit. She'll attack any hostile in sight, heedless of her own wounds or any tactical disadvantage that "KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKIIIIIIILL" might incur. Bit of a mixed bag for a cultivator, but we make do.
• Awkwardly affectionate. Maria loves her clan. No, seriously, she LOOOOOOVES them. Her idea of affection, however, was mainly derived from watching other slaves in the pit she grew up in occasionally cuddle or fall asleep on each other, or her mother putting mud in her hair. Other Golden Devils will occasionally find themselves on the receiving end of really awkward hugs, or head pats, or, on particularly bad moments, mud pies on their pillows. This has made her surprisingly popular with the clan's kids.

EVENTS IN-PLAY​

Turn 7: Reached Golden Devil territory and defended a peddler (Lu Xu) who was being mugged on the Scorpion Road. This attracted the attention of Captain Ajax, who decided to send her to the Dawn Fortress for training.

Turn 7 Fate: To reach the 8th Heavenstage in under twenty years.. A century ago this was unknown for the Clan, but it seems such talents are as common as wheat stalks nowadays. Maria found herself on a whirlwind tour, the Clan's preparations for war meaning everyone was busy. Vaults of Spirit Stones were cracked open, and techniques often sold for Contribution Points were simply given out. Maria took full advantage, deployed to the Scorpion Road. There she worked diligently, and advanced far, stepping into the 8th Heavenstage on the eve of war.​

Turn 8: Maria had expected to be transferred to the border in preparation for the war. Instead, Captain Ajax informed her that she had been assigned to Three Frogs city, to assist in the training of soldiers. She was furious, but realised that orders were orders, and left. Along the route, she travelled with six clanmates and Oyster, a cultivator of the Cursed Mushroom clan. After a difficult journey, when they found themselves trapped by flooded roads, she engaged in a sparring match against her fellows - and triggered her berserk rages. While no-one was hurt, it separated her from the group. Only Oyster seemed unfazed. In time, the group found themselves in a small town not far outside Three Frogs that had been attacked by Kuei, a cultivator of the True Mask blood path. They investigated to find the place deserted and coated in a strange, dead, meaty substance that clung to the walls and floor. After deciding the find the perpetrator, Kuei attacked, and managed to disable all but Maria and her clanmate Adonia. They fled to get reinforcements from Three Frogs, with Oyster buying time for them. After a carefully managed cat-and-mouse game, Kuei's monsters forced drained enough Qi from the two that they had to hide and rest up. They managed it, but Adonia plunged into Qi exhaustion to achieve it. Sadly, Kuei still found them, and proceeded to attack. Maria was forced to confront her own dark side, but managed to take control of herself and defeat her attacker, walking away with his petrified mask. After finally arriving at Three Frogs, she found herself embroiled in a dark conspiracy of traitors and cannibal infiltrators; only with the help of Zeno Angelus, Commander of the Divination Platoon, was she able to unmask the town's commander, Gaiarados, as a traitor. Afterwards as things settled down again, she started taking occasional shifts with the city's garrison on the wall, and found herself caught in an attack on the wall by the Cannibals.

Turn 8 Fate: Maria entered the siege of Three Frog City in the 8th Heavenstage, and left it in the 10th. Innate talent goes so far, but coupled with luck goes far further. Instrumental in the defense of a falling wall, she managed to kill six Cannibals, maim three, and wound almost ten, pushing back an attack until the Foundation cultivators were able to arrive. From the corpse of a Cannibal she found something absurd. An Iron Advancement Worm, a creature that one could fuse into a meridian and see dramatic advancement. Such worms could not be absorbed by Blood Path cultivators, however, and was no doubt held to be sold. Fusing it into her meridians, she leapt forward dramatically (+60 cultivation-years), her own innate talent pushing what was an immense gain even further. Now in the 10th Heavenstage, she managed to push back a major attack on the walls working in tandem with Edric, serving as a distraction as he poisoned the second wave of a nearly-successful attack.​

Turn 9: After distinguishing herself at the Siege of Three Frogs, and witnessing the historic battle of Rina Callista and Ling Dan the butcher, Maria and her legion returned to the headquarters of the 263rd. There (over the misgivings of her legate) she was promoted to captain, sponsored by the centurion who had brought her into the clan, Ajax. She and her new squad were then deployed as an escort for her old friend Letha, heading up to join the Adamantine Bracers as a tactical consultant. They joined a Righteous Coalition group of various sects and clans caught outside the line, who were forced to wait to deploy to the Fearless Line until the destruction of the Abyssal tower. Frustrations built up amongst the allies, getting worse and worse until a tournament was declared to soothe tensions. Maria, angry after a fight with Letha, entered, and successfully beat her first and second matches. She was exposed, briefly, to a vision of her Dao, a bloody and violent thing, and in horror with what she saw she fled from it, running out of the tournament. Before her friends could help her understand what she saw, marching orders finally came in, and the group made it to the line. Maria and her squad patrolled the line, over and over, until they came to the attention of Shu Cangquiong, the infamous Mother of Mists of the Noble Knowledge sect. After a carefully executed trap, she drugged the squad with potent hallucinogens and then used telepathy to attempt to discern what of Maria's dao she could. Maria and the Red Place eventually broke free after confronting her own darkest secrets, and drove her out of her mind. After she and the squad were rescued, Maria at last realised what she wanted- to reach the Thirteenth Heavenstage, and forge a single pillar.

Turn 9 Fate: Maria spent her time on the Fearless Line boldly, and found herself outmatched several times. Despite her cultivation, the sheer numbers and boldness of the Blood Path cultivators overwhelmed her many times, and she found herself struggling to command as effectively as she might have liked. With this, she took a trip to the Qiguai Secret Realm. Unlucky at first, she fell into the sky-sea, nearly drowning. At the edge of the Secret Realm itself, she was hunted for months by a tribe of Spirit Fish who sought to eat her, slipping from air bubble to air bubble, and ended up taking refuge in a cave. In there she found the Clone-Splitting Competition Art (+16 Impact). Only usable by those who have two minds in one body, it splits the two personalities into one body each, both dependent on the other. When one clone is killed, the personality returns to the other body, and the clone can be remade. Only by slaying both clones within a short period of time can the user be truly slain. It has some weaknesses - when one clone is slain the other is debilitated for a period of nearly half an hour. However, when the dominant split personality allows the subordinate out, it strengthens - thus why it is called the Competition Art. The two personalities constantly contest for dominance, and the Art enables this contest. Both bodies are as powerful as the original that had been split, and a new clone can be generated in a matter of half an hour, making the user a truly fearsome and nigh-unkillable foe. With this, Maria returned to the Fearless Line, throwing 'herself' into impossible battles that should have crippled her, saving three large caravans of refugees. Unfortunately, her early use of the Art was incomplete, and she nearly died after her third split. Only the use of a treasure preserved her life, and the strain the Art had put on her body would take her decades to recover from before she could regain her full faculties.​

Omake (121889 words overall total)

Turn 7 (2737 words total)
Arrival Part 1 (1628 words)
Arrival Part 2 (1109 words)

Turn 8 (24815 words total)
Belonging (1245 words)
The Mirror, Part 1 (1941 words)
The Mirror, Part 2 (5105 words)
The Mirror, Part 3 (3083 words)
The Mirror, Part 4 (2122 words)
The Mirror, Part 5 (2080 words)
The Mirror, Part 6 (1632 words)
The Mirror, Part 7 (3037 words)
Lethal Hustle: The Blitzkriegue Case (9293 words, collaboration with @Juugo , not included in wordcount)
Gravebronze (2542 words)
Wall Duty (2028 words)

Turn 9 (28732 words total)
Ending the Siege (3342 words)
Captain's Pins (779 words)
Promotion Day (990 words)
First Assignment, Part 1 (1421 words)
First Assignment, Part 2 (2277 words)
First Assignment, Part 3 (3797 words)
First Assignment, Part 4 (5836 words)
First Assignment, Part 5 (7844 words)
A Private Correspondence, Part 1 (668 words, collab with @no. )
A Private Correspondence, Part 2 (@no. 's response, not counted in wordcount.)
A Private Correspondence, Part 3 (565 words.)
Mortals (1222 words)

Turn 10 (52066 words total)
In a Yellow Wood (3037 words)
A Private Correspondence, Part 4 (@no. 's response, not counted in wordcount.)
A Private Correspondence, Part 5 (526 words.)
A Private Correspondence, Part 6 (@no. 's response, not counted in wordcount.)
Dodging Echoes, Part 1 (2584 words.)
Dodging Echoes, Part 2 (1752 words.)
Dodging Echoes, Part 3 (2845 words.)
Dodging Echoes, Part 4 (1027 words.)
Dodging Echoes, Part 5 (2015 words.)
Dodging Echoes, Part 6 (2085 words.)
Dodging Echoes, Part 7 (5103 words.)
Dodging Echoes, Part 8 (713 words.)
Seven Conversations (1173 words.)
These Boots Are Made For Knockin' (1873 words.)
Maria and the Three Masters, Part 1 (4176 words.)
Maria and the Three Masters, Part 2 (5332 words.)
Maria and the Three Masters, Part 3 (3169 words.)
Maria and the Three Masters, Part 4 (4192 words.)
Maria and the Three Masters, Part 5 (4703 words.)
Maria and the Three Masters, Part 6 (5761 words.)

Turn 11 (12820 words total)
Contribution Board: On Wrathful Cultivation (1173 words.)
Price and Balance, Part 1 (1811 words.)
Price and Balance, Part 2 (2265 words.)
Price and Balance, Part 3 (689 words.)
Price and Balance, Part 4 (1385 words.)
Price and Balance, Part 5 (2592 words.)
Price and Balance, Part 6 (2905 words.)

Epilogue (719 words.)

 

[BadAtScreenNames]

Arrival
Part 1
Maria Turn 7 First Omake
​

She woke with a pounding headache and a litany of low, grumbling pains riddling her every inch. She ignored them. Scrubbed a palm over her bleary eye. Sat up. Sunlight was clawing at the mouth of the cave; looking at it, she'd judge it was early morning, an hour after dawn at the latest. Later than she'd meant; deserts were crueller under the sun, or so she'd heard.

"Fuuuuuuck."

Growled the curse at the back of her throat, mingled with the dust of long travel. Her waterskin was wrapped up in her blankets; half-empty now. She drank a little, washed it around her mouth before swallowing to wet her parched tongue. Better to ration the rest. She'd need it soon enough. Next was her hair. The closest she had to a mirror were her blades. It'd be wrong to call them swords. Cleavers, even, was pushing it; they were rough, jagged things, two feet each from crossguard to tip, with crude handles nailed into the tang. Any swordsmith would take one look and weep. Still, they held an edge, and they were shiny. That's all she really needed.

The girl tilted one of the blades to catch the sunlight, and eyed herself critically. No real change. Short. Broad shoulders and a strong frame, cut down to scrawniness by food snatched or stolen on the move. A dozen scars from lucky fights and older, darker things. Sharp, glaring grey eyes set into an exhausted face. One grey eye, one gaping socket.

Hair a matted mess of muddy dreadlocks. Skin wrapped up in rough, ragged cloth and smeared with dust. Hidden, still. She looked like any other child of the Jianghu. No sign of the mad gold that marked her out, or the inhuman whiteness of her skin. It had been better that way, as she'd travelled the last few years. Too much of a risk for anything else.

She nodded sharply. Rose.

The blades she thrust roughly through travel-beaten sheathes she'd cobbled together out of scrap leather and fur. The waterskin went into her torn layers of robes. The blankets were quickly swung up over her shoulders like a poncho. It'd keep the sun off at least. Then at last, the nameless girl started out of the cave in the foothills of the mountains, and down towards the rolling gold desert.

---

Yu Xu hadn't expected today to get worse, but then again he never did. Optimism seemed to be immune to experience, in his case.

"Honourable masters, I thank you again for your offers," he gabbled, trying not to keep his eyes off of their knives as they pressed against his throat, "and truly it would be an eternal honour for two such great warriors to guide this humble peddler along the Scorpion road, but-"

"But is a bad word, worm," growled the larger of his assailants. There were cliff faces less imposing, and foetid pools that smelt better. "But makes me take offence."

"Here we are, off'ring our services out of the goodness of our hearts," said the second, sneering, a thin line of a man packed with malice and sadism and far, far too many yellow teeth in his cruel grin, "askin' nothing for this kindness but a look inside your big old pack back there, and what do you say but no? Impugning our honour, are you?"

"Implying we're thieves?"

"Robbers?"

"Bandits?"

"Keepin' you safe, we are. Golden Devil territory, this is. Worst demons in the world."

"Went to war with heaven I'sself. You know what that makes this place?"

"Hell," said the little one, drawing the word out with hideous glee.

"'S'right. Be a bad, baaaaad idea to be here alone. So stop. Being. Rude -"

"-And open your fucking bag."

Yu Xu shut his eyes. His mind danced. Either he opened his bag, they took his wares, and maybe he lived long enough to starve to death a pauper, or they killed him now and took it after. The latter was more honourable. The former he might recover from.

Life or face. What a choice.

"Leave him be."

A new voice. The pressure of the knife-blades on his neck lessened a little. He opened his eyes again. Both of his assailants were looking away from him, towards a… a…

Girl. It had to be a girl. There probably wasn't such a thing as a sentient grime monkey, and even if there was it wouldn't be wearing most of a pile of laundry. She was staring back at them, face blank. Not angry or cruel, just… empty. Bored, almost.

"Didn't you fucking here me?" she said again. Her voice was rough, haggard from disuse. "Put your knives away. Leave him be."

He watched his assailants glance at each other. Then back at her. Then at each other again.

And start to laugh. Huge, rolling guffaws from the big one, a staccato cackle from his partner. It went on for a few seconds. The girl reddened.

"Or what?" gasped the little one, eventually. "You a martial hero, brat?"

"Didn't know there was any ragpile fist stylists left," said the big one, and they fell back laughing again.

"Oh gods," said the little one. "Ragpile fists. You're funny, Ma. You really are."

"Thank you."

They finally calmed again. "Good laugh you gave us, little one," said the little one. "Very good laugh. For that, do you a favour. Fuck off, and we won't kill you."

The girl didn't look bored any more. Instead, she was angry. Really angry, if her bared teeth and staring eye were any judge. She wasn't going to fuck off. She was going to try and intervene, and then she'd just die too. A girl, barely more than a child. Yu Xu found, suddenly, here on the edge of death, that he didn't want that.

"All is well, honourable niece," he said, pasting on a smile he knew would look desperate at best. "The fine masters here merely wished to offer their services. I am humbled by their honour, and your valour too! Truly, the next generation have found their virtue early! But let us not-"

"They're robbing you," said the girl. "Not offering anything."

"Ah- A mere misunderstanding! I had sadly-"

"What, you want to be robbed?"

"Robbing him," said the skinny one, quietly. He wasn't laughing now. "Yet another insult to our honour."

Lu Xu's voice stilled. So they were dead then. The two of them. Gods, he should have stayed on the plains.

"From a knee-high little bitch doesn't know she's been born, Ping," said Ma.

"Insults her elders."

"Sticks her nose where it ain't wanted."

"Rude, Ma."

"Very rude, Ping."

Ping turned back to glare at Lu Xu. "Move and we'll take it personal," he grated. Then the two turned back to the girl.

"I think," he said slowly, face locking into a rictus-snarl, "that it behooves us, to teach a lesson."

"In manners?"

"And life-skills. Picking battles. Learning one's place."

And the two began, slowly, to advance.

Lu Xu looked back at the girl again. "Run," he gasped. "Run, for Heaven's sake, now."

She looked at him. Smiled a little. "You're nice," she muttered.

Then the smile went. She seemed to still, somehow; like her breath had left her, and her flesh had turned to stone. Like a blank slate, almost, empty and clean.

Ma snorted. "Waste of my time," he grumbled.

As last words go, not great.

The girl exploded. Lu Xu didn't see her move – one moment she was there, the next Ma's arm was spiraling lazily into the sand, and the air was thick with screams. Ping was staring, face blanched white, but he didn't have long. Ma had flung himself backwards, lashing out with his knife, but the girl was on him, swinging two savage-looking hunks of edged steel with mad speed. She was screaming, Lu Xu realised. Screaming and snarling and gasping with fury, her voice contorted into a grating bellow. Who *was* this girl? *What* was she?

Ping had shaken himself from his shock by now, and lunged at the girl's back, his knife flickering like light on rippling water. He was good for a bandit, but it didn't matter. She brought the second blade back around in a blistering arc and drove him back. Then she was back on Ma. He lasted half a second before she cut/tore his head from his shoulders.

"Oh fuck," gasped Ping. She roared in fury, and scissored her blades through his waist. He fell, in two halves, onto the road. The whole thing had lasted less than ten seconds.

The girl snarled again, still clutching her swords. Struck down at the sand once, twice, three times. Howled her fury. Calmed, slowly. The rage gave way to an almost serene stillness, marred only by deep, lung-shattering breaths.

Lu Xu didn't move. Didn't dare to.

After a long moment, she turned to look at him. "You alright?"

He nodded.

"Good. S'better that way."

Light gleamed in the distance. Lu Xu managed to find his voice again. "Legionnaire."

"What?"

"Legionnaire. Of the Golden Devils." He took a shuddering breath. "They keep the roads safe."

Something complicated happened to her face. She turned to follow his gaze.

"I… I cannot pay you-"

"Hush. S'alright. No charge."

The legionnaire, running at inhuman speeds, skidded to a halt from them.

"Who are you?" He thundered. "Who dares disrupt the peace of the Scorpion Road?"

Lu Xu went to speak, but the girl got there first.

"I don't have a name," she muttered, eyes suddenly fixed on the paving stones. "But I'm… I'm…"

She stopped. Growled.

"I was born in a slave pen, and my hair grew in gold. I am a Golden Devil. And I've come to meet my clan."

 

[BadAtScreenNames]

Arrival
Part 2
Maria Turn 7 Second Omake​

The scar across Ajax's hip tightened. It was going to rain soon. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. Rainstorms always cleaned out the air, and he liked that, but it screwed with the Qi flows that ran through the desert back to the fortress. The arrays would be jittery for weeks. That meant Array engineers, clogging up his outpost. He hated that. They always got so sniffy about maintenance.

He closed his eyes. Sighed. This was stalling of the worst kind. Imperator, he was better than this. He was not going to let himself be scared by a teenaged girl.

She'd been dragged in that morning by Orrin, one of the new assignments. A mortal peddler had come in with her, babbling about bandits. Two charming representatives of the Martial Village had apparently decided to try and part him from his goods. Stupid of them. Xia who pulled this shit either died or wished they did. The road served too many of the clans too well to let mortal thugs ruin it for them.

The girl had apparently gotten there first. Normally, great. Kid took out the trash. She'd get a rap on the knuckles for killing without the Golden Devils' permission, a completely coincidental donation (cash, food, whatever worked), and that'd be that. Except this girl had turned around, shook out gold hair, and said she was a Devil. And with that, ruined Ajax's whole day. Heaven's gutless balls. This was going to *suck.*

He turned at last from his post at the outpost balcony and started limping back into the building. The steps down to the cantina were far too steep for him, but he'd have gutted himself on a fish-hook before he admitted that out loud. He'd made it through the damn trials alive. He was not going to be defeated by a staircase.

He heard her (and the poor mortal – Lu Xu, his name was) before he saw her. Voice like a vulture chewing broken glass.

"Stop worrying."

"Honourable mistress-"

"Not your mistress."

"-The legion will not be happy. To kill on their road-"

"Killed bastards. Like killing a dog."

"Certainly they were valourless dogs, but still-"

"Lu Xu." Her tone had changed, somehow. Firmed up, warmed, almost. Still sounded like sandpaper. "Listen. You're going to be fine. Okay? I'll talk to them. Tell them you're just a pup needed looking after."

"…A pup?" The sheer offended dignity pulled a laugh out of Ajax that he had to catch in his hand.

"Yeah. Don't fight, don't kill. Pup."

And that killed the laugh stone dead. That kind of perspective said far too much. And she was seventeen. Fuck.

Time to do his job. He straightened, ignored the painful protest from his hip. Came around the doorway into the cantina. The mortal saw him immediately, and stood. He nodded back, but he didn't look away from the girl. She'd fixed her eyes on him. There was something in that look that made him… uncomfortable.

She wasn't looking at him like a jailor. She was looking at him like he was her dad. He looked away, to the mortal.

"Lu Xu, was it?"

"This humble one is honoured by your attention, great master," the man gabbled, bent almost double. Ajax hid a smile. "Truly, your presence alone is a shining example."

"Of course, sir merchant," he replied. "I am glad you are unharmed. And your possessions, you still have them?"

"Ah, great master's wisdom is far reaching. Yes. My trivial wares are still with me."

"Good. I have arranged a guard to take you back to the road. They can escort you wherever you were going."

The mortal nodded, and Ajax waved him away. He could still feel the girl's eyes on him, but he waited a while until Lu Xu had left. Then another while. Stalling again. He faced her, and those big, longing eyes.

"No name?"

She shook her head. "The man who owned me, he didn't name his slaves."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. Ajax filled in the blanks in his head anyway; slavers didn't like humanising their property. Broke the illusions they used to get through the day. But she wouldn't know that.

"So. Your hair."

She nodded again. "Golden. They said only you have hair like that. So. I'm one of you." The hope was naked and desperate in her voice. Ajax kept his face still, and tried not to think of his own daughters back in the fortress.

"And where was it that this all happened?"

"On the plains. Don't know where."

His face must have showed his scepticism, then, because she coloured a little. "They kept us in the pens," she said defensively. "Never went outside till I got away. Don't know how far I got, either."

"Surely you must know something."

"I'd gone to the red place. Never remember anything there."

"…The red place?"

She nodded. "Inside my head. When I get angry, or fight. I go to the red place. When I come back, they're dead or I've run away."

Ajax stared at her. "…The peddler said you… attacked the sand. After you killed the two bandits."

"Still in the red place. Had to fight still. Came back quick enough. Didn't hurt him."

She said it casually, like they were talking about the weather. Her own mind, fractured and psychotic, didn't seem to rate as much as the colour of her hair. Ajax breathed out.

"No, you didn't," he said, heavily.

They sat in silence for a few long moments. She started to fidget after a while, looking away from him.

"Your hair's short," she said abruptly. "Thought. You know. Everyone would wear it long."

"Some do. I like it short. Easier to clean."

She snorted. "Easier without mud in it."

"I imagine so, yes," he said, smiling despite himself. She seemed to brighten at that smile, and sat up, grinning at him. She didn't look seventeen. Not then. She looked five, or younger, like she'd just discovered her words and at last, at last, her parents had let her into the conversation. He looked at her and saw only echoes of his own children.

She was mad, this girl. That was clear. But mad was not the same as evil, and she was here seeking family. If someone was going to take it from her, it wasn't going to be him.

"I'm going to send you to the fortress," said Ajax, leaning back. She gave him a sharp, inquisitive look. "The heart of the clan. Where our elders live, and the great families. It's… a good place. They'll help you."

"Oh." She considered that. Nodded.

"Alright."

 

[BadAtScreenNames]

Belonging
Maria Turn 8 First Omake​

Ajax knew what sort of day he was in for the instant Maria landed on his back, giggling like a school girl and locking her arms and legs around him. An undignified sort of day. Ridiculous, even. She laughed like a piglet, all snorts and supressed squeals, and to make matters worse she buried her face in the crook of his neck to smother them.

And no. He was not smiling. The twist at the corner of his mouth was entirely coincidental.

"This is not proper legionnaire behaviour," he scolded. Maria shook her head, sending great curling waves of her golden hair into his face as she did so.

"Terrible." Her voice was muffled and twitched with barely constrained levity. "Should be ashamed of myself. Bad Maria. Bad bad bad."

"What would Rina Callista say?"

"Naughty Seed! Bad junior! Thirty laps!"

That broke him. A snort fought past Ajax's lips. He reached back, caught Maria by the collar of her robes, and pulled her off. She didn't resist. Time hadn't changed her much, he reflected. She was still that short, stocky little brat he'd taken off the road. A little taller, perhaps. Her hair was cleaner. And the legionnaire's uniform was a much better fit on her than the ragged robes she'd been in before. Otherwise, she might as well still have been protecting peddlars from wandering thugs.

She was giving him another of those lopsided grins. He tried not to smile back. It didn't work.

"Going to keep me hanging here all day?"

"I was thinking about it. You might make a nice wall hanging."

"Curtain. Keep the sun out."

"Not with skin that pale, you'd blind half the outpost."

Another squealing peal of laughter. He let her go.

"It's good to see you, Maria."

She nodded back eagerly. "Very good. Very good indeed."

It was a nice moment. Of course, it ended almost immediately.

"I have a new assignment for you."

She tilted her head. "Yes?"

"Come inside."

He shepherded her into his office and locked the door behind her. Less chance of being overheard.

"Where?" She asked as soon as he sat behind his desk. "Far end of the road? Near Jingshen? Near the Cannibals?"

She had that spark in her eye the young ones always got when they talked about war. Imperator save him.

"No," he answered. "No. Not the far end of the road."

Maria sat back. Considered. "Up by the mountains, then?"

"You're leaving the road." That made her stop. Ajax barrelled on, before she spoke again. "Not to the frontlines, either. You're going to Three Frog city."

They sat in deep and heavy silence. Then, "where the fuck is Three Frog City?"

Maria's voice sounded like broken glass. Ajax made himself hold her gaze.

"Nowhere important. There's a map."

"And why-"

"Training. We have soldiers there. They need someone to break them in. That'll be you, among others."

"…War. War with the Cannibals. War with the Cannibals very, very, VERY fucking soon. And you want me to teach greenhorns how to hold a spear?"


-----



She felt her fury in two places, as she always did. Coiled in her throat, and her brain. The former felt like gristle and dust, something heavy and rough and right on the edge of painful. She was used to that by now.

The anger in her head was a lot more distracting. For twenty years, she'd learnt to ignore it. Golden Devils were controlled, stoic, disciplined warriors. Anything else broke formation. But the Red Place hadn't gone anywhere, and on moments like this she felt it singing in her brain.

Come, child. Sit by my door. Let my corridors solve... everything...

No. She shut her eye. Bit her lip. Forced breaths into her lungs. I don't need you. Go away.

Ajax was still speaking. Maria forced herself to pay attention.

"…not a question of your skill, legionnaire," he said. Her rank. Not her name. The captain was apparently being *official*. "You made 8th​ in 20 years. That's exceptional. But we're short on bodies and that needs to change. Quickly."

"*I'm* a body," she growled. "Sir."

"One body. You can put hundreds into the field-"

"I want to fight!"

She hadn't meant to shout, or to stand, but she was doing both now and couldn't seem to make herself stop.

"This is *my* clan! MINE! You want me to let cannibal man-eater FREAKS eat us? Let them – fucking –"

She couldn't find the words, so let herself snarl instead, putting anger straight into the air without the need for language.

Ajax watched her, stony faced, for a few long minutes. Then, at last, "you can stop or I can stop you. Pick one."

She hissed.

Growled.

Conceded the point. Stillness didn't come easy, but she forced it on herself until the anger wasn't dragging her around the room any more. Breaths. Deep breaths, and even, like they'd taught at the Fortress. Slow. Careful.

Calm descended slowly, but she got there. Shame came with it. Ajax's stare felt heavy and judging. She looked down at her feet to avoid it.

"…Sorry."

"Sorry, Captain."

"Yes. That. Captain. Sorry."

The silence hung for another second, and then he carried on.

"I am not asking you anything. I am ordering you. This is a legion. I can do that."

"I know."

"And your orders are to train soldiers. Because you're right. War with the Cannibals will start, and soon. Wars are won by whoever puts the most troops in the field."

"I – yes sir."

"So what, legionnaire, is the problem?"

She made herself look up at him. "No problem, Captain."

She felt him considering her. Judging. She must have passed.

"Good. Sit down, will you? Hurting my neck looking up at you."

Normality. Maria released a breath she hadn't even realised she was holding and sat opposite him. When had they even gone to his desk? Too angry. The Red Place had stolen memories, and she hadn't even been in it.

Ajax pulled a bottle of something sweet and alcoholic out of his desk, and poured her a glass. It smelt like peaches and honey. Present from his wife, she guessed – the captain didn't tend to buy this stuff himself. She sipped at it to be polite and watched his eyes. Something sad about him, today. Something tired. Heaven's worthless shit, she couldn't have picked a better time to lose her temper, could she?

"I know it's hard," he said, eventually. "I was young too, once. War looks like glory, to you. Proving yourself a hero. But that's not what it's going to be like, Mar. It's – " And he seemed to grope for the words like a blind man reaching for his cane, for a moment – "it changes you. There's honour in a fight, yes, but a battle… You know I was at Pleuron?"

She shook her head.

"I was. Barely hit 3rd​ heavenstage, but we needed men if we wanted to survive the Tribulation, so there I was. And."

Ajax stopped. Drank.

"Anyway. War is not what you think it is. So don't be too upset. Heaven's cruel enough anyway. You'll find your way there eventually."

Maria said nothing. What was there to say? So she sat, and watched her captain drink his glass, and then they waited in the silence for a while.

And later, years and years later, when she thought of her captain and that war, she'd know that he was right.

 

[BadAtScreenNames]

The Mirror (Part 1 of 7)
Maria Turn 8 Second Omake

​

"It is important," said Kuei, as he gazed off over the open, barren plains of the desert, "to keep things in perspective. Don't you agree? Don't trouble yourself, friend, I see that you do. One can get so… distracted. By foolishness, mostly. Of course we don't realise it at the time, but – years later – foolishness. That's what it was. Silly attempts to be who people want us to be, not who we are. And then there we are, on our deathbeds, regretting every wasted moment."

His companion didn't respond. Kuei forgave him. It wasn't his fault. Things were on his mind.

"It's why I did all this. Spent a long time just… just lying to myself. You know? Didn't realise what I was doing, of course, but ignorance is no excuse. Twenty seven years. Twenty seven years pretending to be a merchant. Because father told me to."

More silence, but this time he felt something… judgemental.

"…Alright, let me clarify. You shouldn't blame him for this. I certainly don't. Good man, my father. Loving, affectionate, kind… but didn't let away with everything. He could be firm when he needed to. He could be a disciplinarian. Much better at it than my mother, she was always a soft touch. Even the merchant business – back to my father, now, friend – was because he wanted me to have an income. Poor men starve in the street all the time, after all. And it let me travel. You know. See the world. And I appreciated that. That he'd considered it. I did. But the truth was… it just wasn't me."

The silence took on an enquiring cast. Kuei nodded.

"Yes. That was why I left Seven Heavens. If you want anything other than coin in your life, then it's not the city for you. The dreams were helpful, of course, but honestly they were just an excuse. You know. It could as easily have been a nice girl or – or a passion for music or something. It's just that the dreams were what turned up. Anyway. Across the desert I went. Had to go a long way, too, so I didn't go near the Waycastle. Thrake. Nice place, but the family are very… controlling. Wouldn't have understood. Which, yes, was the reason I had to avoid the guards. Wouldn't have managed it at all if I wasn't expected."

He sat back for a moment, and this time let the silence sit before continuing.

"I hope I'm not boring you. Sorry, I know I tend to ramble on. Conversation's a very pleasant thing, but they all tend to be a little… one note, these days. Which of course isn't your fault. This is a big moment for you after all."

He turned to look at his companion. The technique was almost finished – he could feel the beginnings of dark, glistening connections in the back of his mind. It was always interesting to see the final stage in action.

The peddler stared off into the distance with wide, mad eyes. His lips were dragged back into an awful rictus, baring his teeth at something only he could see. The bulging veins ran all over him, now, deep and rich and burgundy, pulsing in time with his frantic heartbeat. And underneath…

The connections were starting to blossom inside Kuei's skull. He smiled beneath his scarlet mask. The peddler twitched. Shuddered. Blinked. Died.

The thing that wore his flesh sagged into a bow. Kuei nodded appreciatively.

"So very pleased to meet the real you," he said.

---

Maria hadn't really expected travelling companions. This assignment already felt like a punishment; adding in witnesses seemed cruel.

Not a punishment, though, she chastised herself. An order. Task for the clan. A good soldier is stoic.

Besides. They might be nice.

Ajax had told her to wait for the others in a teahouse a few miles off the road. She'd seen it a few times before on her patrols, but this was the first time she'd ever gone inside. It made her strangely nervous. Too quaint, maybe, or pretty – like a painting of a place by someone who'd never seen it in real life. The place was small, with carefully lacquered wood to keep the sand out, and paper screen doors everywhere painted with scenes from fairy tales.

Heaven's bullshit mercy, she wished they could have picked an inn. Or at least somewhere with a bar.

No. Stoic. Stoic.

There's always-

Fuck off.

The owner had ushered her inside the minute he'd seen her hair. Now he was hovering at her side like a neurotic moth.

"The honourable legionnaire's comrades are in a private room," he said. It was the fifth compliment he'd paid her in the last thirty seconds. She didn't like it. "They have taken some tea already. Shall I make some for your exalted self?"

Maria ground her teeth. "No," she muttered. "Thank you. Which room?"

"Ah, do you not wish for a private room first, lady cultivator? To rest from the road?"

Rest from – she was 8th​ heavenstage, she hadn't needed a rest in months, why –

She caught her temper flaring and stamped it down. "No. Just the room."

The innkeeper fluttered uncomfortably for a second, then bowed and led her deeper into the teahouse. The place didn't grow on her any in the journey, nor did she find the private room itself very charming. More paper screen doors. A low table. Tea and cups all over it.

Six of her clanmates in the room, too.

She didn't recognise any of them. Not off the top of her head, at least. They had the gleaming metallic gold hair of the Optimatoi, though, and the usual armour of combat legions, so at least she'd have that in common with them. Beyond that, they were a study in contrasts. Three men, three women. Some younger than her – one of the boys couldn't have been older than sixteen – most older. The eldest was gnarled and lined like a tree root, her hair pulled back in a severe bun.

And all of them were staring at her.

Maria felt herself blush. New people. Always new people. New people who's opinion she cared about, too. Gods.

" …Hello," she grunted. " 'M Maria. 263rd​ Legion. You – you all going to Three Frogs too?"

There was a pause as they considered that. The old woman's eyes narrowed a little, and the teenager tilted his head. Her accent. Twenty years back among her true family and she still talked like a scale-plains hick. She should explain –

"Yes," said one of the men. He was older than her, but not that much; she'd guess forty. "To assist in training. I am Zeth Castellanos, of the 46th​. A pleasure."

"Alcander Diakos," said the teenager, still staring at her. "Also the 46th​. Why-"

"Letha," said one of the women quickly. "The 115th​. A pleasure to meet you, cousin."

"Yeah, but why-"

"And these," Letha continued, gesturing at the remaining Optimatoi, "are Priam, Kyra, and Adonia." They nodded, except for Adonia, the old woman, who kept staring inscrutably at Maria. "How was your journey?"

Maria gave an awkward shrug. "Okay. No bandits or nothing. Some mortals had a cart with a broken wheel, so. Helped them out. Not really much… else."

"You were able to fix the wheel?"

She relaxed a little. Letha seemed okay so far. "Yeah. Well. No. They fixed the wheel, I just lifted the cart for them. So they could put it on. Saved them waiting for a patrol."

"Is that," asked Adonia, voice quiet and without inflection, "why you are late?"

Letha winced. Maria felt herself starting to blush again. "…Yes," she muttered. "Sorry. Were – were you waiting long?"

"Of course not-" began Letha, but Adonia spoke over her. "Two hours. Two hours that could have been spent travelling towards our objective. Time is a resource like any other, soldier. And you wasted it to fix a wheel that would have been fixed already."

Maria forced herself not to look away. "Said I was sorry."

"Yes. You did."

The room stewed in uncomfortable silence for a moment before Alcander spoke.

"Why is your skin like that? Are you sick?"

Oh good. Her favourite subject. Maria looked at the boy.

"Just is," she said shortly. He didn't get the hint.

"But surely you must know. Your parents must have sent for a doctor, or-"

"No. No doctor." Shit. They all had that enquiring look, now. Alright. Better to just tell them and get it over with. "My family – my mum, she – slaves. We was slaves. On the plains somewhere. No doctor."

The silence was even worse, this time. Adonia had turned her head away, at last, but now Letha was looking at her like she was a puppy with a broken paw, and that was just humiliating. Alcander looked horrified, at least, and Zeth was shooting him the kind of glare that should have left a charred outline on the floor.

This was the worst kind of awful. She needed to change the subject, and now. "So. All here now. You ready to go?"

"Ah – regrettably, cousin, there's still another in our party who's yet to arrive," said Letha. She still had that pitying look on her face, but at least she wasn't trying to talk about it. "A consultant from outside the clan. Apparently very renowned amongst their people."

"Oh. Who are they?"

"I'm afraid I only have a name. Oyster."

"…Oyster."

"Yes. I'm sorry. My superiors were busy with war preparations, they didn't give me much."

"They're a combat specialist," rumbled Priam. His voice was leaden and deep, like a cave just started speaking. Given the man was easily seven foot and broad as a mountain range, it fit the rest of him perfectly.

"Ah!" said Letha, brightening. "You have been briefed more thoroughly-"

"No," said Priam. "Just common sense. Look at us. Fighters. Good ones, but not so good they can't make up the loss. Teaching soldiers who're about to get thrown on the front lines. Anyone else 'll be the same. Specially if they're an outsider."

He paused, then started to say something else, but the teahouse's owner was back again, flitting ineffectually back and forth outside the door. Zeth reached out and opened it.

"Yes?"

The owner bowed again.

"My apologies, esteemed lords and ladies, I do not wish to overstep, so-"

"You didn't. What do you want?"

"Ah – it appears, honoured legionnaires, that a… guest… has arrived for you. I assumed it was a lie, of course, but it had this letter in its possession."

He handed Zeth the letter. Maria watched the older man read it, then grunt.

"Seems in order."

"Ah – really? Well, sirs, madams, I must admit I am-"

"The guest. Where is he?"

"I had it wait outside-"

"We shall meet her there," said Adonia, unfolding herself and rising from the table. "Thank you for the tea." She shouldered past the owner, and the others followed. Maria found herself at the back, and tossed a handful of coins back onto the table.

"For the tea," she muttered. The owner started to babble his thanks. Maria fled before he got worse, darting after Priam's huge retreating back.

Outside, the others had stopped, forming a wall between her and their final member. She pushed herself forward until she saw-

-Oyster.

Well. That made sense of the name.

The mushroom man bowed low at the waste.

"Greetings. This one is pleased to meet your august personages. The Cursed Mushroom clan extends the Golden Devils its respect, gratitude, and joy that such an opportunity has been given to us."

 

[BadAtScreenNames]

I am not entirely happy with this one, but if I don't post it I won't write the next one and I really want to keep going.

The Mirror (Part 2 of 7)
Maria Turn 8 Third Omake​

"Really?"

"Oh yes. Just outside the Dawn Fortress. It's where I grew up."

"How wonderful! I wish my own family were as fortunate. My grandfather is master of the Economos Waycastle. A wonderful place, of course, but not as exalted as your estate must be."

Letha and Kyra had been chattering since they set up camp that evening. Maria wished they'd stop. They'd dance between topics like lunatic dervishes, never quite choosing one, and each would be as unerringly boring as the last; books she'd never read, places she'd never been, ways to cut your hair… the kind of pointless frippery she'd never understood.

What was worse, they knew she didn't understand it. Letha had tried to include her in the conversation at the start. It was a kind gesture, but Maria didn't have it in her to appreciate it; the awkwardness of those ten minutes had made her want to bury her head in the sand until they all went away.

Or perhaps admit that runaway slaves don't make good company for the exalted scions of great cultivator clans.

Shut up.

She set her teeth, hard, and glared away into the distance. This wasn't her. It wasn't. She was as much a Dev- Optimatoi as anyone. They just cared about stupid things.

The night had started to fall two hours ago, and they'd stopped to rest the horses. Now they were settled in around a campfire, their tents circled behind them with a watch set. Priam and Adonia to start, then her and Alcander and finally Zeth and Kyra. Which would hopefully mean there'd be less of that mindless rambling tomorrow.

…That was mean. She stopped trying to meditate, slumped her head into her hands, and sighed. None of what she'd thought was fair. It was just her own discomfort and old insecurities niggling at her. She should acknowledge that, at least. Letha was trying to be kind, even if she wasn't very good at it. Better that than Adonia's sharp glances, or thin-lipped little frowns whenever Maria spoke. She should apologise for being so… grumpy. Or at the very least try and be nicer in future.

She should go over now. Do it quickly.

But she didn't. Instead, she rose from her spot at the mouth of her tent and stepped out towards the desert. Too much awkwardness now. Too much embarrassment and self-recrimination. Even if it was entirely in her own head, she still wanted a break from it. The sand dunes, dark and cool and empty, would help her make her brain go still.

She stopped at the edge of the tent circle and squatted gracelessly in the sand. The moon was just starting to wane, a barely visible sliver of darkness squashed against its perimeter, and the world was bathed in its pale light. There was no wind to disturb the sand, either. Just a stillness that stretched out all the way to the horizon, and the distant gleam of the scorpion road.

Maria felt the day's tensions release inside her chest. She breathed out slowly. Peace. Peace was coming to her at last. A smile danced around the corner of her mouth. She loved nights like this.

"Pardon."

She glanced back over one shoulder. Oyster stood behind her with a bowl in his hands.

"I saw you hadn't eaten. Perhaps you might enjoy this bowl of what I'm sure is thoroughly nourishing gruel?"

He said it so calmly that it took her a second to realise he was joking.

"Oh. No. 'm good?"

"Sure? I can promise, from its texture, colouration and consistency alone, that it is certainly food of some variety. Depending on your definition."

She snorted.

"I'm sure."

"Reasonable." Oyster flicked his wrist with a practiced gesture and sent the (alleged) food flying out onto the sand. "I'm sure a scorpion will eat it eventually. Presumably karma will ensure it is an unpleasant scorpion."

Maria couldn't help it. She laughed. "Like a really mean scorpion, you mean?"

"Yes. Rude to its dinner companions, tips poorly at restaurants, doesn't tidy up in the communal scorpion kitchens, that sort of thing."

"Sounds like a real asshole."

"Well, one would hope. The alternative is some poor scorpion innocent would make the same mistake. I can't have that on my conscience. May I sit?"

She nodded. He folded his spindly legs under him and sat beside her, gazing out across the sand.

"You're the first Cursed Mushroom I've met," said Maria.

"I should warn you the others are far less conventionally handsome."

She laughed again.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yes. They have something around the eyes, though. A certain charm."

"I'll look out for it, I ever meet one."

"Do. It'll keep you from staring at their faces. They don't like it."

"That why you're here? Others were all too shy?"

"You would assume! But actually, no. I volunteered for the position. Thought I might enjoy seeing a bit more of the world."

Maria nodded, still smiling, and turned back to the view. Oyster was right. The world was very much worth seeing.



---



"… can I do for you, master Cultivator?"

Kuei blinked, and shook himself back to reality. He shouldn't wander off into his head like that. He'd miss what was right in front of him, and what kind of life would that be? He turned his masked face away from the moon and back to the innkeeper, currently smiling at him uneasily.

"My apologies, good sir. I was distracted by how lovely the evening looks tonight."

"Ah." The man relaxed. Good manners tended to do that. "Yes, my lord, very fine tonight. In fact, our village is blessed with a particularly beautiful view of it."

"Oh yes?"

"There is a hill nearby, on which we have built a pavilion and stone garden. There, you can see as far as Three Frogs!"

"My word! A tourist attraction, I must assume?"

The innkeeper nodded. "We have had the honour of some very fine visitors. The Sarapenchos family sent a representative five years ago!" The man's chest swelled with pride at every word. Honestly, he looked like he was going to burst.

"Such honour! I am most impressed. Sadly, I am merely a humble cultivator of no great renown. Might I still be welcomed?" Kuei pitched it like a joke, and the innkeeper laughed.

"Certainly, sir. Are you here for a room?"

"Please. And a meal, if your kitchen still serves at this late hour?"

"Certainly. My wife and daughters made their famous dumplings, this evening. I shall bring you some. And perhaps some plum wine?"

Before he could answer, Kuei's stomach growled audibly. The two men laughed. The innkeeper ushered Kuei into the dining room, now essentially empty but for the last few patrons polishing off their dinners, and sat him at a table near the fireplace. Moments later, a bottle and a full glass of the wine were placed in front of him. He poured himself a glass and tipped his mask up a little so he could sip it.

Rich. Sweet. The alcoholic burn giving it the gentlest kick. Oh, but he had missed this. Kuei let out a deep, happy sigh, and sat back in his chair.

The innkeeper came back after a moment with the dumplings and a few little dishes for sauce. Kuei nodded gratefully.

"My thanks."

"No trouble, lord cultivator."

"My thanks anyway. Might I trouble you for another favour? it seems a shame to drink and eat alone. I understand of course that you are busy, but if you have a moment might I ask that you join me?"

"it would be my honour."

The innkeeper pulled over a chair and sat. Kuei pushed the bottle towards him. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, and then began to talk.

"I must say," said Kuei, "this inn is very fine."

"thank you," said the innkeeper. "it has been in my family for generations."

"That long?"

"Oh yes. We were lucky. To begin, we were farmers. Then, when the tourists came, my grandfather built this place. It was just a side business, to start, but we gave up the farm last year. More money in this. And more interesting company," he said with a smile. Kuei smiled back under his mask.

"how wonderful to hear of such good fortune. I must commend your grandfather's wisdom."

"thank you sir. I-"

the innkeeper faltered. He seemed to remember, in that moment, how far the Gulf could be between cultivator and mortal. Kuei empathised. Not that long ago, he had sat on the far edge of that divide. There was no need to let the man suffer. He leaned forward and poured another glass of the plum wine.

"I promise you, sir, I do not take offence easily. Especially not with those who served me such fine libations."

Laughter.

"well, if you are sure, I wonder... That is to say, I have never-" the innkeeper groped for the words, then gave up. "might I inquire, sir, what sort of cultivator are you? I know of the Golden Devils and their blood of bronze, and I know of the sorcerers of Xin. I have heard tales of others too, from the Dragon empires of the divided mortal kingdoms, and the mad goat men and their strange magics. "

"you are well read."

"but I have never heard," said the innkeeper, "of anyone who wears such a mask as yours. Might I inquire, is it perhaps to do with your Dao?"

Kuei laughed, tipped his mask forward a little, and popped a dumpling in his mouth. It was filled with a sweet bean paste, and a little chilli powder for spice. He closed his eyes, and revelled in the taste. "I must say, you know more of the many paths of cultivation then I do. Why such interest? "

The innkeeper smiled. "in my youth, I had dreams of cultivation myself. I thought, perhaps, to run away, and join a sect or clan. They say that there is somewhere in the desert, a place where mortals may be bound to the blood of scorpions. I dreamed that I would find it, and there begin my climb. Didn't happen of course. My father stopped me, and then when I was older I met my wife. I am happy as I am, Sir, do not misunderstand. My life is full of little joys. but I suppose I am still..."

"Curious?"

"just so."

Kuei nodded agreeably. "my father was a merchant," he said. "I understand very much. And you are right. I do wear my mask for such a reason."

The innkeeper leaned forward. "your Dao."

"No. No, not that. I am blessed with a little talent, but I have not progressed that far. No, I wear this mask- ah well. You would not believe me."

"I would," said the innkeeper, nodding as if to convince Kuei with sheer force of his own assent. "If there is one truth I have learned in all my years keeping this inn, it is that the world is full of marvels. Should you be another, then I shall bless my luck to have met you, and not insult you with disbelief."

Kuei considered. Well. It couldn't hurt, could it? "You are sure?"

"Yes."

"very well. My path is esoteric. Its ways are... unusual. At its core, the path of the Truthful Mask concerns a simple contradiction- who we are, truly, is a secret we keep even from ourselves. Cultivation, at the higher realms, addresses this through the Dao. One cannot progress if one cannot admit what one truly believes. My path chooses to address this early- from the very beginning of our studies, in fact. Self mastery begins from the very moment we first draw in qi. And mastery of others, too."

the innkeeper's brows furrowed. "Others?"

"oh yes. You see, if you are not your own master, then you are anyone's slave. Would you like a demonstration?"

He did not wait for an answer. In truth, he had begun the instant he entered the inn. With a gesture and I flicker of qi, he sat his path loose on everyone around him. The other patrons. The innkeeper's wife and daughter. The sleeping souls upstairs. Each one, he delved inside, forging wet, red, gristly connections.

Across from him, the innkeeper stiffened. Thick red veins blossomed on his neck, running across his face and forehead like hungry vines. The beat of his heart set them twitching over his skin. Kuei watched as he tried to move, arms straining against themselves, but it would be no use; there was only the path now.

"it's alright," said Kuei. "I know, I know. You're afraid right now. Don't be. I'm going to help you. All those lies you tell yourself, I'm going to make them stop. You can be yourself. Your real self. And even better- you're going to be a part of something wonderful."

he rose. There was a window on the edge of the dining room. Through it, he could see the rest of the village- 30 or 40 houses, a few shops, a tea house, and the Hill and the stone garden.

"You're all going to be part of something wonderful. You'll see."



---



Two weeks later, and they still hadn't reached three frogs. The journey was starting to get on Maria's nerves. To make matters worse, now they were stuck. It was rare to see a rain storm in the desert, but now the Sky was thick with clouds, and the rain came down to beat the sand like it owed it fucking money. They were trapped until the sand dried up enough to ride on. Still, at least they weren't outside.

They had found this place almost by accident- an abandoned building, by the look of it recently. Something about it had made Maria uneasy. Why would anyone leave somewhere like this? Then again, she didn't really know where this was. Maybe people abandoned places like this all the time. It was really just a box, more than a building. Some sort of storage shed perhaps. And it kept the rain off her head. She'd take that.

The others had investigated it within a few minutes. She and Oyster had been set to prepare camp. It hadn't taken long. Now all of them were strewn about in various stages of boredom.

"a full day," said Adonia, glaring at the wall. "Wasted."

"Don't take it so personally," said Alcander. "It's just rain. It doesn't mean to upset you." he smiled. That counted as a clever joke for him. Zeth fixed him with a glare, and the boy shuffled awkwardly. A beat of silence. "I thought it was funny."

"perhaps this is a good thing," said Letha. "It might be good to take advantage of this- train a little. Obviously nothing too strenuous," she said hastily, glancing around the fragile structure they sheltered in, "but I'm sure we could manage something. Formation training perhaps. To get used to each other?"

"no point," said Priam. "not going to be fighting together anyway."

It was hard to read priam, even at the best of times, but today he seemed in a particularly inscrutable mood. He might have been furious, grieving, overjoyed- impossible to tell.

"still," said Letha. "it would be something to do."

"So would be punching a wall."

Beside Maria, Oyster tilted his head to hide his lips from view. "He must be amazing at parties."

"shut up," muttered Maria, fighting down a grin.

"Or perhaps at sporting events. He could start races. Or stop them, rather. "

"Oyster, I swear, if you don't-"

"he could stand at the finish line and tell them it was pointless to even try."

That was too much. Maria snorted as laughter forced itself past her lips. She clamped a hand over her mouth and shook. The others looked at her. When she could trust herself to speak, she looked up. "Sorry," she said. "Thinking of something else."

Adonia fixed her with a glare. "Perhaps you should keep your mind on the task at hand."

Maria made herself nod. Fixed a smile to her lips. Wanted, so badly, to beat Adonia into the ground. "You're right. Sorry."

There was another uncomfortable silence. Those happened a lot, whenever Maria said something. Adonia didn't look away. "you know," she said abruptly, "I think perhaps I agree with Letha. We should take advantage of this time. Sparring."

Priam glanced at her. She went on regardless. "We cannot let our standards slip, after all," she said, eyes still locked on Maria, "not when we will be shaping the future of our clan."

Alcander nodded excitedly. "Yes," he said. "Yes please. Finally some excitement." Zeth looked at him warningly, but it didn't matter. Aldonia nodded.

"It's decided then," she said. "first-"

"Actually," said Oyster, giving Adonia his most bland of looks, "I think I might go first. If it's all the same to you."

Maria jerked. Looked at him. "what are you-"

"I feel I would benefit most strongly from your instruction," he continued, heedless of her interruption. "And I'm sure standards must apply even more strongly in my case, yes? I am an outsider after all. And I will be teaching your clan mates. So much more risk."

Adonias face stilled. She seemed not to hear him. "Maria-"

"Unless, of course, you're afraid," he said very quietly.

That shouldn't work. Maria knew that shouldn't work. A Golden devil was stoic after all. And yet, despite that, Adonia's eyes fixed on him. Her nostrils flared like an angry bull.

"Of course, Lord Mushroom," she said, her voice sneering. "what sort of cultivator would I be if I did not answer so... charming... a challenge?"



Letha glanced back and forth between the two. "I'm not sure-"

"Shut up." adonia snatched up her spear.

A beat. Then, scrambling motion. Everyone drew away from the two of them. Maria found herself standing next to Priam.

"what is she doing?" he muttered to himself.

Good question.

Maria poked him hard in the side. "she'll kill him."

Priam shook his head. "No, she won't." But he didn't sound sure.

Oyster drew himself up slowly, spindly limbs unfolding like some strange puppet, before settling down into a loose stance. Adonia flicked her spear back over her hand, held it steady, stared at him.

"Lesson the first," she said "The weaker cultivator, without exception, loses to the strong."

And then she moved. An explosion of motion. Her flesh starting to gleam with the metallic sheen of the blood of bronze. She brought the spear forward in a brutal stabbing motion. her face contorted in an awful smile...

which curdled as Oyster brought his wrist up and snapped it aside. The momentum carried her forward, but he had already moved, leaving behind only one long outstretched leg To trip her. She stumbled, skidded, caught herself, turned-

A palm struck her in the face. Oyster was on her, then; A frenzy of long limbed blows arcing down over and over. She brought her arms up in defence. He snaked around them, landing strike after strike. Then, with an elegant flick, he cartwheeled back to land in his loose stance, lower this time, hands up to guard his face.

there was a stunned moment amongst the onlookers, Maria included. That had been almost perfect. The kind of unarmed combat you told stories about. This fight was a lot more equal than it had looked.

Adonia seems to have realised that too. She advanced slower this time , spear up, and probed him with three or four quick evaluating jabs. Oyster knocked them aside one at a time, taking little steps back and forth to adjust his stance. He seemed almost bored.

"Far be it from me to tell you your business, Legionnaire, but I think I know this lesson," he said. Adonia coloured, curled her lip, and set about him. This time, her spear snaked out, delivering the blows with care and precision. Long practise made her fast, too, and sent her attacks into the path of his movement- wherever he went, she was already there.

"Ah," said Priam. "There it is. Pity. Thought the little mushroom man had her there for a second." Maria shot him a confused look. He glanced at her, then back to the fight. "That's a glass and iron stance," he said. "Won us more than a few wars, none of them easy. Hard to master. See the way she's driving him back? He can't advance, because if he does she'll put a blade in him. But if he doesn't, she'll wear him down. Just has to wait him out now."

Marias heart sank. It might not have been long, but for a moment she had thought Oyster would shut Adonia up at last. But no. It seemed Priam was right. Adonia had Oyster caught- he couldn't move forward to strike her, only backwards in the face of her assault. The end seemed obvious, now.

...Except.

Except there were holes in her stance. Suddenly they seemed obvious. Gaps that could so easily be exploited for a strike. All Oyster had to do was step into one of them. And was it Maria's imagination, or was Adonia slowing? There was something laboured about the way she held her spear, the way she breathed. But that couldn't be. A Golden Devil, full of the blood of bronze, did not tire from one spear assault.

Except this one apparently did. After a moment, the stance disintegrated. Adonia, gasping for breath now, was left with nothing but great swinging strikes, her spear cutting an arc in the air. Oyster slipped past them with a casual ease. He'd started to smirk.

"Oh, well," he said, "this. This is a fine showing. I must say, when you offered to spar, I didn't realise you wanted to work on the basics..."

Adonia gave a ragged snarl, and pushed forward, her spear lashing out. But oyster had lost interest in playing with her. Something like green light shimmered across his back, down his arm and into the palm of his hand. As Adonia came near him he stepped forward, let her spear cut past his shoulder, and struck her chest. For one second, it seemed like nothing happened.

Then Adonia collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut.

Oyster stepped back, bowed slowly, and returned to the sidelines to stand byMaria.

"Truly, a masterful performance on her part," he said calmly. "I especially liked the bit at the end where she just waved her stick at me."

"What the hell was that?" Priam was staring. Oyster shrugged. "I worked a few things out. That and some good luck. Cultivation. You know."

Maria laughed incredulously. "That was brilliant."

He gave another shrug. "thank you."

"what did you do?"

"well. Since it's you asking. I might have figured out some... new applications to our traditional methods."

Priam breathed out slowly, closed his eyes, nodded. "Curses."

"The difficulty, of course, lies in casting time. Can't get off a good curse if someone is trying to punch you in the throat. But if, say, one were to prepare one's curses in advance? Leave nothing but the activation?"

"Smart. And the hand to hand?"

"I have a gift. Well, bloody mindedness and a great deal of time on my hands."

Priam gave a snort. you could call it a laugh, if you were feeling generous. "Not bad. You won, alright. Undo them now."

Oyster gave him a blank smile. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do." Priam glanced back to where Adonia still lay gasping on the field. "Counter curse, please. Not asking you to like her."

Oyster seemed about to object, but then he glanced over at Maria, back to Adonia, and then at Priam's spear. "Ugh, fine." he gestured, traced out some strange design in the air. Adonia took a deep shuddering breath. "You're lucky I'm generous."

Adonia rose, snarling. "How dare-" she began.

Priam got in front of her. "Good match," he said, tone seemingly friendly until you saw the way his hand was locked around his spear haft. They held gazes for a long moment, until Adonia stalked away, snarling.

Priam turned back, face as unreadable as ever. He looked at Maria. "You and me next."

"…What?"

He shrugged. "Adonia wasn't wrong. Sparring isn't a bad idea. I should have said it myself. Come on." Maria hesitated, something like uneasiness flared in her gut. She forced it down. It was just a sparring match. What could go wrong?

They took up positions opposite each other, spears at the ready, and dropped into fighting stances. She went for something simple; side on to him, her spear raised in both hands, the blade just below eye level. He glanced over it, nodded infinitesimally.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

Thud.

She didn't even feel the blow. He'd hit her with the flat of his spear blade, once, hard across the face, and pulled back into his stance before she'd even started to move.

"Don't look ready," he said, voice flat.

Maria's jaw tightened. "Try that again," she growled, and flung herself at him.

---

When Oyster had been freshly awakened, six years old at the most, a kindly elder had taken him to Acrocorinth. It had been part of some diplomatic issue he still, decades later, didn't entirely understand, but he had enjoyed it. It seemed that mushroom, mortal, and Golden Devil alike all had the same reaction to cute kids, and that reaction was "awwww!" He'd come home with so many presents and treats he'd had to give some away from lack of space. It was a fascinating place, too; the Waycastle was bustling with traders, miners, farmers, cultivators of every stripe – a mad collection of every kind of person in the whole world, he was sure.

But for all the spoiling, and all the novelty, what had really stuck with him was seeing Golden Devil spearfighters for the first time.

It had been an exhibition tourney, in honour of the Cursed Mushroom ambassadorial visit. Ten young legionnaires competing for some small trinket and bragging rights. Nothing fancy, the Elder had told him. Don't get too excited.

And then they'd started, and Oyster was in awe.

They fought like gods, he'd excitedly told his friends. Like genius gods trying to kill each other with lethal geometry. The spears traced out lines and arcs as they flew back and forth, so fast he could barely make them out. The fighters themselves had seemed almost irrelevant; their bodies were just fixed points. It was their weapons that mattered.

As he stood in that strange box of a building, watching Maria and Priam, the memory came back to him. Along with it, a realization.

Compared to these two, those half-remembered legionnaires looked like fucking amateurs.

Priam fought like a textbook; thrusts leading into swipes into blocks into shaft strikes into evasions, all flowing into each other and yet each one so perfectly clear you could almost take notes. This was a fighter with decades of experience, and time had bled all weakness out of him until all that was left was efficiency.

Maria, by contrast, was just power. There was technical skill, he could see that; her moves had that same quicksilver fluidity that Priam's had. But behind it was a strength and ferocity that took his breath away. Thrusts lashed out horrifically fast, aimed at heart, throat, head, groin – every defense turning back into attack almost immediately, ruthlessly aggressive each time.

He'd gotten lucky against Adonia, Oyster realized. She'd been angry, and that made her arrogant and careless. If she could have fought like this, then he'd have gone down in moments.

Except maybe she couldn't have. He found his eyes flickering across the faces of the others, finding the same thing each time. Awe. Pure, shocked awe. They watched each blow and counterblow with almost religious devotion, whispering amazed little realisations as they did;

"…skin of bronze, yes, but he's so flexible-"

"-never seen anyone move that fast-"

"-she can't have just learned this, she can't-"

"Who is he?"

"Who is she?!"

These are rare talents, thought Oyster, turning all his attention back to the fight. These are rare talents and I am in the room with them.

I am so glad I fought for this appointment.

But like all good things, this moment couldn't last. He could already see how it would end. For all that she was incredible, Maria wasn't as good as Priam. She should be. She was faster, stronger, a hundred times more brutal and only a touch less skilled. So why, then?

Oyster leaned forward, stared, focused. He had moments, if that, to work it out. He couldn't explain why it mattered to him, only that it did. There was something, some lesson hidden in this fight that he wasn't seeing. Blow. Counter-blow. Block, redirect, strike. Evasion. He couldn't find it.

And then he did.

It was the moments between, he realized, half stunned, half giddy with the realization. That was it. That was the tell. Priam's were smooth and fluid, yes, but they were that way because he knew what to do. No doubt. No hesitation. No thought. He went from move to move with total confidence. Maria was almost there. Almost. But there was always a twitch. Barely visible. Practically non-existent. But as clear and as final as a tombstone. She was stopping herself from following through. Each move was a choice, conscious and worked out, even if she did it in the barest slice of a second. A decision to go against her first instinct.

And that's why she was going to lose. Priam was only fighting Maria. Maria was fighting Priam and herself.

He had that understanding all of an instant. Then the fight was over. He didn't even see the move, just the results. A harsh thwack of wood on skin, and then Maria was on the floor.

Legsweep. Must have been a legsweep.

Priam stepped back, his chest heaving like a bellows. He was staring down at Maria with some cross between respect and exultation on his face. The others were already moving, streaming over to babble amazed plaudits.

Oyster was halfway up to join them when he saw it.

Maria's eyes opening.

A moment of brief eye contact, her and Oyster staring at each other. There was no recognition on her face.

Then he watched those eyes swivel up to lock on Priam.

And her face contorted with rage.



---

...Still really not sure about that last fight. Eugh. Sorry if it came off as me blowing smoke up my own character's ass, I was trying to illustrate where her head's at without just saying it. Also, @Alectai @TehChron @Humbaba , could I have this and my previous two omake for this turn (here and here) bookmarked, please? I've added the first one and my omake reward to the spreadsheet already.

 

[BadAtScreenNames]

This damn series keeps getting bigger. I figured if I didn't post this is would end up being, like- just too big, so here it is. @Kaboomatic @TehChron @Alectai may I have this ridiculous thing bookmarked, please?

The Mirror (Part 3 of 7)
Maria Turn 8 Fourth Omake​

Before the Legion – before the clan, in fact – Maria had never really remembered being in the Red Place. Her rages were like falling asleep; she'd open her eyes with a head full of dreamlike half-memories, fading even as she went through them. It never really mattered. But time had passed, and training and cultivation had strengthened her mind.

She didn't have the luxury of sleep or forgetfulness, now. She knew damn well what the Red Place looked like.

It wasn't really a place, of course, but she supposed her mind had to process this lunacy somehow. When she couldn't hold it any more, she'd find herself… here. A maze of marble corridors and stone floors, dimly lit. Cold slate rooms. Cavernous halls. No windows, though. No way out. Just the halls and corridors, stretching on and on forever and looping back on themselves over and over, in ways that made no sense. All cold. All hard.

And all red. Not blood red, nothing so obvious, but dark, muddy reds – rosewood and carmine and mahogany. Sullen reds. Brooding reds.

She tried not to think about what this particular hallucination implied about her. It opened doors she'd carefully locked a long time ago. Instead, she buried it as far from her thoughts as she could manage, and avoided its mocking voice, grating like broken glass and disappointment.

Until it built up too much, and she found herself here.

Maria set her teeth again, closed her eyes, fought down a snarl. This was bad. The sparring match. She remembered the sparring match. Priam's spear, sweeping through the air with textbook-perfection, and her own ever-growing frustration. Then-

Here.

Oh shit.

She opened her eyes again, awash in cold panic. What was she doing? What would she find there, when at last she fought her way back to reality? What awful thing would she have done?

The Red Place filled with mocking, twisted laughter.

Oh Child. So foolishly afraid.

She felt the snarl tugging at her lips again. "Let me out."

No.

"Let me out, you bastard."

Or what?

She growled. Her throat was starting to roughen with that grating burr from the pens and the fighting pits.

"Or I'll find a way to kill you. Some bastard out there has a mind path. Pay them to cut you out and put you in a bottle. Shit on you whenever I'm bored."

Oh, Maria. We both know you'll never do that.

She gave in, at last, to the feral roar building in her lungs. "Fucking watch me," she shrieked. Her spear was in her hand, suddenly – no idea where that had come from – and she let herself hack and stab at the walls, no thought of form in her head, only the raw ferocity she'd built up over decades.

That laughter again. Drove her crazy. She felt her lips draw back over her teeth, her hands tighten on the spearhaft till she heard the wood creak. Attack. Again and again, attack. Her enemy was beyond her reach.

And yet.

Attack.

She lost track of time, a hazy concept at best in this place, and found herself plunging down the yawning halls of the Red Place, destroying anything she found. But it meant nothing. When at last, her anger burnt itself out and she stood, hunched over, lungs heaving, in the ruins of some empty vestibule, everything was the same as before. Still trapped. Still tired. Still exhausted.

"Fucking… bastard," she gasped

I could say the same of you. You think your mother was married when she whelped you?

"Don't you fucking talk about her."

Why not? You don't.

There was something resentful and angry in that. Maria turned, slammed the haft of her spear into the ground, and pulled herself upright.

"So?"


So, growled the Place, one of the two reasons you survived that place, the only one who ever loved you, and you pretend she doesn't exist.


That stung, but she was too tired for fury. She spat, instead. "Not true."

Oh? So you remember her when I'm not looking, is that it? She protected you.

"Fat lot of good it did me," muttered Maria.

The Place –

Roared.​

It was like a hurricane had spun up in a heartbeat, right in front of her. The force of that fury flung her from her feet, into the nearest wall, and sent hairline cracks of agony running through her. The scream of pain it tore from her lips might as well have been silent, though, for all that she heard it; there was nothing but that bellow, that howl, that screech of sheer, tormented rage.

YOU LIVED.

YOU LIVED.

IN THAT PLACE, WITH THOSE PEOPLE, IN THOSE CHAINS, YOU LIVED.

YOU KNOW WHAT THEY WOULD HAVE DONE, IF THEY FOUND YOU ANY YOUNGER THAN THEY DID? NO USE TO THE FIGHTING PITS THEN.

YOU'D HAVE DIED.

YOU'D HAVE DIED SCREAMING IN SOME ALCHEMIST'S CRUCIBLE AS HE MADE PILLS FROM YOUR BONES.

IT WOULD HAVE TAKEN YEARS.

AND YOU PRETEND THAT'S NOTHING?!

EVERYTHING

EVERYTHING​

YOU HAVE GOTTEN SINCE

YOU HAVE BECAUSE SHE GAVE YOU


If this was real, Maria knew with sick certainty her eardrums would be shredded by the volume. As it was, her head rang like a beaten gong. But she couldn't pay attention to that, because there was something else too.

For a moment – less than a moment – there had been a flicker. Not much, barely anything, but enough.

A flash of the world outside. Her spear clutched in both hands, swinging down point first into Priam's guard.

She knew how to get out.

"Not very good at hiding me, was she?" she gritted. She couldn't hear a damn thing, but it didn't matter – the Place would know. "Six. Fucking six. Suppose you can't expect better from a slave."

The roar got louder.

SHUT UP YOU UNGRATEFUL

"Great plan, too. Mud. Mud in my hair. Sheer genius."

LITTLE BITCH SHE SAVED YOUR LIFE

"No. I saved my life. And she's dead."

LYINGLITTLEKILLYOUKILLYOUKILLYOUKILLYOUKILLYOU

She felt the room start to come apart before she saw it – the sudden staccato snap of cracking stone behind her back, digging into her spine. Then watched those cracks run across the walls and roof and floor, hairline thin to start with, then widening until she saw light gleaming through them, and hints of movement.

The Red Place was still screaming, ranting obscenities and hatred at her. She smiled with bloodstained teeth.

"Just me," she whispered.

Then the Place came apart.

She breathed deep on real air, gasped with joy at the sensation. It was perfect for all of one second before a fist cracked against her skull and she saw only blackness.



---



She woke up in the dark, but a different kind this time. There was a staleness in her mouth, and the dull copper taste of old blood. This was real. She blinked, eyes crusted with sleep, and tried to focus. She was outside, if the cool breeze was any judge, and the air had that clean feeling it got after a long rainstorm. Something solid was at her back. She tried to turn her head. A stone. A big one.

And her wrists were chained.

She gave them an experimental tug, and quickly learned two things:

One- they were strong enough to hold her.

Two- Someone had pressed the tip of a blade against her jugular.

"Don't," said Priam.

Maria closed her eyes for a moment. Oh good. She had in fact escaped from bad, and landed in the comforting arms of worse.

"Alright," she said, and relaxed her arms until the chains jingled a little against the stone. The spearpoint didn't withdraw. "Can I turn my head?"

There was a silence. Then the spear withdrew a little, just enough for her to move. She slowly shifted until she could see him, and winced in guilt at what she saw.

Priam's face was a mask of bruises. More of them, paler and less pronounced, ran down his neck under his armour, and little dark spots on his wrists and hands showed the extent of their reach. That, in itself, was a bad sign; Cultivation burnt through that kind of damage like it was nothing. She must have hit him *badly* if he was still healing.

"I do that?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Priam said nothing, didn't move, but for a second the speartip pressed a little harder. That was probably a yes.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, lowering her eyes. "Didn't – I'm-"

"What in Tartarus' guts was that?" he asked. His voice had a guarded quality to it. No anger, but… something. Something she didn't recognise, and didn't like.

"I- It's… complicated."

"We're not going anywhere," he said.

Well, he had her there. She let out a tired snort and closed her eyes.

"There's this. Thing I do. Since I was a kid. If I get too angry, I go to the Red Place."

"The Red Place."

"'S what I call it. Don't really go anywhere, though. More like… like I go away, and someone else takes over. Hurts whoever I'm fighting. Kills them, if it can manage it."

Priam said nothing. She waited for a moment, to see if he'd change his mind, and when he didn't she went on. "Before I got to the clan, it helped. Got me through a lot of fights. Not so useful now, though. Getting angry like that, it-"

"Disrupts formations," he said. "Breaks discipline. That's why you're here, isn't it? Only explanation."

She had to stop herself bristling at that. "Don't know what you mean," she said eventually.

"You're what, 37?"

"Thereabouts."

"And Eighth Heavenstage. That's impressive. So why let a cultivator like that stay off the front lines? Because you can't use her. She could snap at any moment. That puts her at risk. That puts her unit at risk."

"Hey," Maria snarled. "I don't-"

"So it's never happened during a formation?" Priam asked. She fell silent, but he wasn't done. "Or during training? That was just a spar, and you lost it then. That can't be the first time."

She avoided his gaze. He leaned forward. "Answer me."

The speartip was cool and unpleasantly sharp. She felt her kin starting to give. "Not for years."

"Liar."

"No," she growled. "Truth. At the fortress, spent years learning to control it. Keep it locked down. Works, by and large."

"So why-"

"You're good. Too good. Haven't had a fight like that in a while. So you-"

"Then why are you here?"

She went to answer him, and realised she had nothing to say. There was no good reason for her to be in Three Frogs and not on the front lines, or at the very least back on the roads. And yet here she was, on the way to a meaningless city to teach recruits how to hold a spear.

Something like betrayal welled up inside her. She turned her face away.

There was a long moment of silence. Then the speartip withdrew. After a moment, she felt the chain shake a little, then go slack with the click of a lock opening. She glanced up, surprised. Priam didn't look back at her as he brushed by to work on her other wrist.

"Adonia's idea," he said gruffly, shaking the chains at her. "After she got her lucky shot in, I think she wanted to… assert her dominance." He snorted.

"You're letting me go?"

"You still a legionnaire?"

She nodded.

"Can't keep you bound up then. Obstruction of your duty. Get my head kicked in by the Centurion. Come on. Others are ready to get moving already. Just waiting on you."

And he started away from her. After a moment, she followed.

---

Three days, Letha marveled. Three days since the sparring match, and not once had Adonia ceased her ranting.

"She could have killed you," she snapped. Priam, settled on the far side of the camp fire, sharpening his spear, didn't respond. "Or at the very least, she could have injured you. Badly."

"She didn't," he answered, still not looking at her.

"Through sheer luck! What if she'd been fighting someone else? Alcander, say? Or Kyra?"

"She wasn't."

Adonia actually screamed in frustration. "You cannot actually be this stupid! She is a liability!"

"On the front lines, yes. These aren't the front lines."

"That is *not* reassuring! Imperator's shit-stained raiments, are you telling me you want to expose her to juniors? Say it happens again? How many do you think-"

"I think she got orders, like the rest of us, and she's here. I *think*, unless you want to start complaining to her captain or legate, that she's going to teach at Three Frogs like the rest of us."

It went on like that for a while. Letha turned her attention back to the stew in front of her. Rabbits, some vegetables, and a handful of herbs that Zeth produced from somewhere. It might not be the sort of food she'd grown up on at the Economos waycastle, but it was a lot better than patrol rations. She gave it an experimental stir, then started ladling it into bowls.

"Supper's ready," she said. Adonia stopped for a moment, shot Priam a venomous glare, and stalked over. The others formed up into a queue behind her. Letha counted them off in her head – Alcander, Zeth, Kyra, Priam…

No Maria, of course. She hadn't joined them at meals since – well. Since that. Letha would have worried, if she hadn't noticed the leftovers going missing each evening. Zeth had seen her foraging, too, which was something, at least.

But it wasn't enough. Not even nutritionally, either. Maria had been on the edge of things since they'd met. It wasn't entirely unusual – those raised outside the clan could find the culture-shift very disconcerting – but the degree of it was… excessive.

Adonia had started up her rant again. Letha watched Priam for a moment, his face still impassive as he spooned the soup into his mouth. He'd brought Maria back afterwards. That didn't suggest a grudge. But he hadn't done anything about her… withdrawing, either.

She should do it herself. That was the answer, obviously. Just pick up her bowl and bring it to her clanmate's tent. Easiest solution.

Just pick up the bowl.

That's all. Reach down, and pick it up, and put the stew in.

…

And don't think about Maria's voice raised into an awful, raw bellow of fury, her spear a savage blur as she moved through the air for Priam's throat.

Gods damn it.

Letha closed her eyes and reached for calm. That wasn't fair to Maria. Whatever had happened clearly hadn't been intentional.

But it didn't make that memory any easier to shake, either.

A polite cough drew her back to the present. Oyster gave her a crinkly half smile.

"Do you mind?"

He gestured to the stew.

"Oh. Yes, of course," said Letha, and doled out a portion for him. "I was under the impression Cursed Mushrooms didn't eat human food?"

"Most of us can't. My lineage is a little different. Lord Shiitake was experimenting."

"Ah."

"I can't help but notice an absence at dinner," he said, his voice casual but his back to Adonia. Letha winced.

"Yes. I, uh… I suspect she's-"

"Perhaps embarrassed?"

She nodded gratefully. "Yes. Embarrassed. Yes."

"Hard to come back from a… faux pas."

"That's a very good way to put it."

"Thank you. I was going to say 'oopsie' but I felt it lacked a certain gravitas." He took a bite of the stew, and smacked his lips with every sign of enjoyment. "But I must say, this truly is exceptional."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Yes. Perhaps I might trouble you for a second bowl?"

Letha's brow furrowed. That was definitely not how rations were given out. But then she saw him tilt his head slightly towards Maria's tent, and understanding dawned.

"Oh… yes. Yes, of course," she babbled, quickly (and surreptitiously) passing him another portion. "That- yes. Excellent."

He smiled again. "Thank you," said Letha, realising she meant it. " Very much."

He gave one of his odd rolling shrugs. "Surely, I should be thanking you."

And then he was gone, wandering away from the fire.

---

Maria opened her tent flap before Oyster could knock, or more accurately cough politely. She'd been listening. He raised an eyebrow (or brow ridge, she supposed), then slipped in after her. He was uncomfortably good at expressing himself like that. Maybe it was a Mushroom thing.

He passed her a bowl of stew. Smelt fantastic, she had to admit. Her stomach rumbled.

"Letha sends her compliments," said Oyster.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yes. Adonia less so, of course, but then that's not surprising."

She laughed, sharp and low. They were quiet for a long moment. He was spooning the stew into his mouth when she finally broke.

"Just- ask. Yeah? This – the silence, this is worse."

He swallowed another mouthful. Put the spoon down.

"It seems obvious enough," he said. "Anger. Yes? Lots of it. To the point that you – cease to be part of the decision making process."

"…Yeah."

"I would assume it's happened for a long time?"

"Since I was a kid."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"So what are you expecting me to ask?"

Maria sat back, at that. She realised there wasn't an answer. Oyster gave her another considering look. "You were good," he said eventually. "When you fought Priam."

"Yeah, well-"

"Better after you snapped." She glared at him, but he went on, ignoring her. "Much better, actually. You weren't fighting yourself so much."

"I was trying to kill him."

"Very effectively, yes."

"I- fucking-"

"Why aren't you trying to control it?"

This had to be a tactic, or something. Bombarding her with questions from angles that made no damn sense. "I am trying to-"

"No. You're trying to supress it. Stop it happening. And I really can't understand why."

"Because it's not how Golden Devils fight!" It came out as a shout. She caught herself, bared her teeth in frustrated anger, dragged her voice down. "No stoicism. No control. Disrupts the formation. Golden Devils is all *about* formation. Can't just pretend like- like-"

She couldn't find the words, and gave up looking, burying her face in her hands and groaning in frustrated fury. Oyster patted her sympathetically on her shoulder.

"Ah," he said. "But you are a Golden Devil. And you berserk."

And that, she supposed, was the core of the problem.

 

[BadAtScreenNames]

The Mirror (Part 4 of 7)
Maria Turn 8 Fifth Omake​

They saw the place long before they got there. Or rather, they saw the hill.

"Back before the truce," said Kyra, shattering the silence they'd ridden in for the last three hours, "there was an outpost here. Glass Spear co-ordinators could see all the way to the scarred lands. Then, when our most exalted master made peace with Old Cannibal and the territories were ceded to us, it was taken down."

Maria listened despite herself. She'd never been good at the clan's history; too many dates and names. This was interesting, though.

"Why?" she asked.

Kyra's jaw tightened. Something uncomfortable, and a little afraid, flickered across her face. Her eyes strayed to Priam as he stared impassively off along the road. But after a moment *just* long enough to be uncomfortable, she answered.

"There were other battles to fight. We were preparing for the Trials and – well, and many other matters. As we always are," she added, voice taking on a school girl's piety. Maria closed her eye to keep it from rolling. Kyra talked about the clan sometimes like she was talking about a scripture, or some god or other. At least Maria knew it was full of people, not saints. "The resources were put to better use. There is a stone garden there, now. The town nearby sells tickets to tourists who come to see the moon."

"Is that a common way for tourists to spend their time?" asked Oyster. Something in his voice made Maria wonder if he was teasing. Hard to tell at the best of times. Kyra didn't seem to notice.

"Oh yes!" she said eagerly. "For rich mortals, at least. If one can afford the fee of a protected caravan, it is a very lovely way to spend one's time."

"Yes, yes, I see. Of course, they can't be expected to see the moon anywhere else."

Ah. He had been teasing. Maria tilted her head down to hide her smile.

"This hill. This hill and this hill alone. Is the only place the moon can be seen."

Kyra flushed. "Of course not-"

"The tales we fools have told for centuries will pale in comparison, I'm sure. Tonight, my friends, we will finally see. The moon."

The giggles were starting to fight their way past Maria's lips, now.

"All those years of dreaming-"

"If sir mushroom is quite finished," said Adonia, quiet but cutting. The laughter died inside Maria's mouth, unheard. Oyster's back straightened. She saw his fingers flicker in aborted patterns.

"Certainly," he responded, cool and charming.

"We need to push through to Three Frogs. We have a great deal of time to make up." Adonia's voice crackled with ice. "I, for one, will not allow my reputation to be ruined by another's incompetence."

Maria gritted her teeth. Adonia had been picking at her since they'd started out that morning. The weight of her spear across her back seemed suddenly deeply pressing.

One blow. Nothing fatal. Just one quick crack across the back of the head. Just a bruise…

"Still need to go through the town," rumbled Priam. Maria willed herself calm again. "Quickest route."

"If we continued along the hill-"

"Road's too bad. Horse will break a leg, we'll be lucky to make the city by tomorrow night."

"You underestimate our steeds."

"No, just know hills."

It would keep going on for gods knew how long, if history was any judge. Letha, it seemed, came to the same conclusion.

"The town," she said abruptly. "Even if we make it to Three Frogs tonight, we'll have ridden the horses half to death. If we were to cut through the town and stop, even for an hour, to let them drink and rest, they'll recover faster."

Adonia sneered. "You would delay us for the sake of a horse?"

"Pardon my foolishness, elder, but surely better that than to waste resources for the sake of our pride?"

Letha's face was the picture of innocence as she said it. It would have to be to keep Adonia from lashing out at a rude junior talking out of turn. As it was, the older woman's face bulged with shocked fury.

But she'd have to let it go. The war was already on the horizon; wasting resources would be the worst kind of foolishness. Not in the Clan spirit.

Priam grunted. "Settled then. The town." He turned his horse. The rest followed.

---

Not far away, Kuei watched them come. The thing that once had been the innkeeper rose up slowly, moaned.

"Good question," murmered Kuei. "I'll be honest. I wasn't planning on anyone this… developed? Is that the right term? Or advanced. Yes. Advanced. Honestly, in my head this was going to be a long thing. Start with people like you, stay there for a while, build up slowly… the war would make it even easier."

There was an awful, gritty noise behind him from the thing. After a moment, it took on texture, sound, shape. "…like…me…"

Kuei winced. "No. That- Alright, yes, I see your point. That was unfair. Mortals. I meant mortals."

There was a pause.

He sighed. "That's not better, is it. Gods damn it."

There was another awful rasp. "…like…me…strong…like…me…" The thing snarled then, a terrible gnarled gasp of a snarl, a noise like a dozen blunt cleavers buried in thick bone and old meat. It dragged on forever until it faded into a whisper. "Like I should have been."

"Yes," said Kuei. He leaned forward. "Yes, you're right. Anything else would be disrespectful."

---

They smelled the horror of that place long before they saw it; the hot iron tang of blood, spoiled meat, and the sickly sweet funk of rot. Alcander gagged, almost vomiting from horseback. The others weren't much better; even Oyster turned his head away, pressing his lips together and gulping. Only Priam seemed unphased, and Maria herself. There'd been worse things in the pit, and on her long trek to the desert.

As they closed in, the source of the smell revealed itself, and they stopped, their horses rearing up in horror and disgust.

Flesh.

Red-grey curtains of flesh, clinging to every building in the town. It blanketed roofs, carpeted the road, and climbed like particularly foul ivy across the walls and windows. All of it was streaked with thick black veins, bulging in some places, and hanging slack and distended like an empty sausage skin in others. There was no motion in that carrion shroud; no twitch of a heartbeat. It was dead, the sunlight cooking it in its own filth.

This time, Alcander really did vomit.

Take it back, Maria thought. Nothing was worse than this. The words felt far away in her head – like her mind had disconnected, fled in the face of this travesty of nature.

It took her a moment to realise Priam had dismounted. One hand was on his spear, but his face, as always, was as smooth and unreadable as a statue. He proceeded slowly to the nearest piece of the meat, leaned close, and examined it.

"Fresh," he said.

"What?"

"It's fresh. No flies. See?" He gestured. Maria followed his hand, and took hold of her mind, forcing it to turn, motivate, *work*. He was right. "Happened recently. I'd say an hour, if that."

"What," asked Leta, her voice taking on a leaden quality, "did this?"

"Don't know," said Priam. He turned, eyes darting over the rest of the town. A small place, Maria realised, now she wasn't so… fixated on the obvious details. Two streets, houses, a few small shops and inns. Tourist town.

"Cannibals?" she asked.

"No," said Zeth. "They wouldn't leave this much meat uneaten. Besides, the truce isn't up yet."

"You'd trust the honour of a blood path cannibal, would you?" asked Kyra, voice arch and thick with scorn.

"Not theirs. Their masters. Old Cannibal is cruel, but not stupid. Ending the truce early would prompt… consequences."

"Yes, but-"

"It wasn't a cannibal."

Maria turned. Oyster's voice had a flatness to it she'd never heard before. Something halfway between fury and grief was mingling on his face. "It wasn't a cannibal," he said again, slowly dismounting and moving slowly towards the meat. "It was a True Mask."

For a moment, she wondered if that was something she should know, but the guarded, blank expressions of the others suggested otherwise.

"The fuck is that?" she asked.

Oyster didn't look at her. "A blood path cultivator. There aren't many of them. They're supposed to be extinct – or dormant, at least."

"And how-"

"Not far from our territory," he said, ignoring her, "is a relic. A huge thing. They say that once, a long time ago, it was worn by a terrible being. A creature that had passed into spirit severing. Her power was beyond our feeble contemplation. In order to gain the grace of Heaven, she filled it with her essence, and flung it down into the desert to torment those farthest from the Jade Emperor's dominion."

"Can't be that," said Priam. But there was something unsure in his voice. Oyster shot him a dull, leaden stare.

"Look at this place. Tell me I'm wrong."

"It's guarded."

"Clearly not well enough."

"What are you talking about?" Maria could feel her temper fraying. This place was just… wrong. Oyster took a breath and carried on.

"The relic is a mask. If you draw close, it will speak to you. Teach you the blood path."

"Which blood path?"

Oyster's voice had the cold, dull finality of coffin lid closing as he answered. "All of them."

---

Kuei stood inside one of the houses and listened as the Devils bickered amongst themselves. It was more disappointing than he cared to admit. Most of his life, he'd heard tales of the golden haired barbarians and their unity in battle. They shouldn't be so… human.

"We carry on," said one of them, a grey-haired woman whose face was a maze of wrinkles. "No rest. Straight to Three Frogs."

"Are you mad?!" That one belonged to the youngest, a boy of (at most) seventeen. Some kind of prodigy, to make it to active deployment so early. "Our clan protects our mortal subjects - "

"We are a little late for that, Master Alcander. The mortals are either dead or beyond our capacity to save."

"But-"

"We can do nothing now. Instead, we should fetch reinforcements and return."

There was a few muttered assents, and Kuei felt his disappointment deepen. He'd consumed his servitors for *this*?

Then hope returned, growling in a voice that sounded rough with grit and scar tissue. He couldn't see the speaker from where he stood without revealing himself, and he wasn't ready for that yet.

"No."

"I'm sorry," said the old woman, her voice full of sweetness and venom. "No? You think we can find survivors?"

"Priam said it was fresh."

"Freshly dead is still dead."

"Means whoever did this is still here," growled Kuei's saviour. "Or nearby. We can still find them if we look."

"Our task-"

"Alcander's right. Our clan protects our mortals. You remember Pleuron?"

"I will not be lectured on our history by some turtle-blooded lunatic!"

There was a silence, immediate and brutal. The old woman had clearly crossed a line. His saviour stepped forward to stand close enough to kiss, at last visible to him. She had the Golden Devil's famous hair, gleaming in the sunlight, cut very long across her back, but beyond that he'd never have known she was a clan member; her skin was almost inhumanly pale, and her face had more in common with a plains gutter-urchin than it did the strange, sharp features he'd expect. The missing eye in particular didn't agree with the rest.

"'Protect the weak against the evil strong'," said the white-skinned girl. "The testament of Xiao Yi, right there. Everything he did. Everything he sacrificed. That was why. Look around you." She spread out her arms. "You can't see the strength? The evil? What else, Mount Tai?"

There was a long silence. Then, at last, the elder male spoke.

"She's right."

The others murmered in agreement. The old woman glared at them, but they stared steadily back. Her gaze broke, and she turned away.

"We spread out," the man continued. "Groups of two. Find the bastard, but don't engage. We'll gather first, and hit him in formation."

That seemed as good a cue as any. Kuei put a hand to his mask and flooded the dead flesh around him with power. It contorted under his command, animated by mockeries of his recent victims, and split in front of him.

"Excellent plan," he said. "But may I suggest an alternative?"

And he fell on them, full of hunger and darkness.

---

UUUUUUUUUUGH okay at least it hasn't added more installments to it. @Humbaba @Alectai @Kaboomatic may I have this monstrosity threadmarked, please. @Juugo I am so sorry I haven't replied yet, life got away from me for a couple days. Will send you a message ASAP.

 

[BadAtScreenNames]

The Mirror (Part 5 of 7)
Maria turn 8 sixth omake​

When a mortal thinks of a cultivator battle, he will usually start by naming the legends of his people. In the Divided Mortal Empire, he will speak of the duel between the first True Dragon Emperor and the Ten Sting Mother, progenitor of the turquoise scorpion clan. In the Colossus Footsteps, they would speak of Old Gold's battle with the Blood Mask, and the great scar he left on its face. Even out amongst the horrors of the Man-Farms of Cannibal territory, they might whisper of Lung-Swallower's last wardance, and the Nine Hungry Tongues who slew him and ate his corpse between them.

If that mortal considered further, he would probably describe the majesty of struggle; brutal, certainly, but graceful in its brutality. Power mingling with precision. Treasures of glorious potency, producing unearthly spells of heavenly might. Warriors springing into the air like eagles and battling without ever once touching the ground.

And at last, if he pushed on the last few steps, he might think (briefly, for it is unwise to let such a thought take root in case a passing cultivator sees it and takes offence) of the wreckage left behind; broken buildings, cratered landscapes, unlucky bystanders caught in the crossfire and… wounded.

But he would never think of the struggle Maria and her clanmates engaged in that day. Nothing so unpleasantly visceral would cross his mind.

The figure descended from a nearby balcony like a comet, robes flaring out behind him as he landed. It was hard to pay attention to him though, as the dead flesh carpets suddenly exploded into motion. The black veins suddenly shuddered as ichor flowed through them, pulsing to a heartbeat's rhythm, and the meat tore itself off the wall to reach for her.

Maria didn't stop to think. She just moved, one hand grabbing hold of Adonia's robes, another drawing her spear, and flinging herself into the air. It was a long way from the most graceful she'd ever been, but it worked. The meat smashed into the ground less than an inch beneath them. Adonia, twisting through space beside her, drew her spear and thrusted with a single fluid motion. The curtain – gasped? Howled? – and pulled back. The wound was deep but bloodless; inside, Maria could see the flesh undulating like a jellyfish.

The two landed, Maria roughly, Adonia with almost perfect poise, and darted back. Oyster was already there, hands full of throwing knives.

"Don't let them touch you," he muttered tersely, and threw. The knives sang as they cut through the air, lodging in the flesh-curtains as they started to advance. Again, that not-scream, but it seemed to last longer this time. Unreadable green sigils blazed with eldritch light seared themselves into existence. Curse marks.

"What happens if they touch us?"

"He can get into your head-" Oyster began.

"No," said the figure, and gestured. The meat curtains shuddered and surged, spitting out a dozen white shards. Maria reacted unthinkingly, her spear lashing out to intercept. Adonia's mirrored hers, and their blades sliced forward, up, back-

Guardian Steel Strike

And cut them out of the air, spinning harmlessly away.

Bone. The spines were hunks of bone.

"My word," said the figure. They could have been settled in a teahouse, from the way he talked. "You know, I knew you Devils were impressive, but that was… well. That was quite frankly educational."

Maria's eyes darted past him. The others were blurs of steel and motion behind him, fighting more of the meat-curtains. She couldn't make out who was winning, but –

He had to be focused on them, didn't he? If she could just keep him talking…

"Thanks," she grunted, glancing back up at him. "Adonia's better."

"The Glass and Iron stance," said Adonia. She clearly had the same idea. "A speciality of mine."

"Well, it is exceptional, it really is," said the figure. He reached up and pulled back his hood to better examine them, for the first time revealing his mask.

Maria's stomach roiled at the sight of it. The thing was made of the same dead-but-twitching meat as the flesh-curtains, but his was fresher. It glistened in the sunlight, layered flat against his face, twisted in some godsawful parody of a smile.

He bowed his head slightly.

"I think it's only polite to introduce myself. I am Kuei Shin Tensei. A privilege to meet you both, I'm sure."

Adonia bowed her head slightly. "Adonia Valerius, of the 178th​ Legion. A pleasure."

"Maria," said Maria. There wasn't much else to add. Kuei nodded.

"Well. Lady Valerius, Lady Maria, I'm very glad to make your acquaintance. Your friend, however, has to die."

As he finished speaking the curtains lashed out again. Shit. Not long enough to get a read on things. They'd have to stop him again. Adonia darted in front of her, sent her spear snaking forward in a flurry of jabs and slashes to take the brunt of the fleshy onslaught. That just left Maria with the leftovers. She twisted, arced her own spear in a halo around herself to cut any strays down.

Oyster had stepped back to let them work, but now they had a defence in place he started work. He wasn't bothering to hide his workings now; green light crackled and zapped along his long fingers as he worked it into sigil after sigil and settled them onto his palms. As the last one burnt home, he leapt, twisting through the air above Maria's spear.

"No," hissed Adonia, teeth drawn back over her teeth into a battle rictus. "No, you fool, you fool-"

The curtains surged up towards Oyster. He spun, knives cutting vectors of clear air out of his enemies flesh, until he reached the apex of his jump. He was upside down, vertical in the air, hands empty but for the light of his techniques.

For a moment, he looked at Maria. In that moment, she saw nothing but serenity and iron will in his eyes.

"Curse Style: Extant Decay Barrage," he muttered.

And then

He

Moved

She'd play it back in her head, later. He struck, over and over, palm landing flat against each crude pseudopod of flesh with a dull thwack of meat on meat and a sharp flash of green light. The blows were impressive, but the speed of it was what she remembered, blurring from blow to blow so quickly she could barely tell them apart. The curtains reared back, slowed by the curses he'd hit them with before and the ferocity of his assault, until he was clear, landing on the far side of them and Kuei. He landed neatly in a perfect guard stance, then sent his fingers flickering through a complicated gesture.

"Begin."

The curse marks blazed with liquid green light so bright Maria had to shield her eye, cursing from the pain. Then the stench changed; the spoiled meat and blood subsumed by the sickly-sweetness of rot. She opened her eye again. The light was gone. In its place was thick white pelts of fur that coated the flesh curtains as they lay, still twitching feebly, on the ground. Oyster's hands filled with throwing knives again.

"Shall I tell you the true name of god?" he asked. It was the weirdest threat that Maria had ever heard, but damn if he hadn't nailed the delivery. And better yet, he'd given her a gap to exploit. Her spear flicked out towards his neck. Adonia was a second behind her, the shock of what she'd seen slowing her.

Two on one. Devils' kind of odds. Their speartips sheared through the cloth of his hood, into his neck-

-except his neck wasn't there any more. Their weapons scythed harmlessly through his empty robes. They staggered to a halt, twisted with the ease of long practice, came back to back in a guard position. No sign of him.

"Oh shit."

Oyster's face had gone slack with horror.

"He's – Oh shit. We have to go. Now."

Maria stared at him.

"Oyster, we're-"

"You don't understand, he can-"

A scream behind them tore her attention away. They could see the others now. Letha, spear up, shield held low. Zeth, on his knees as he stabbed up into a flesh curtain above him. Priam shifting from stance to stance in a carefully executed defence. Kyra-

Oh. Oh no.

Kyra, in front of Alcander, her spear broken and her chest blooming with jagged bone spikes.

The world froze in that moment.

I didn't like her. Maria's thoughts like little fragments of ice in her head. She made me feel stupid. Less than her. Less a devil. Like Adonia, but less direct, so – so I couldn't just hate her and ignore it. Thought I was-

After the… the…

Me.

The Red Place hadn't spoken since the sparring match. Its voice was ragged and hateful and furious.

After she saw ME. She hated you.

No.

She feared you. Like an animal. A mad little animal snapping and snarling, rabid like a dog.

That-

Is true. No more lies. She saw you as what you are. Me. You're me.

No. I'm-

LETMEOUT

The temptation loomed over her for a second. She could. That was the worst part. She could, right now, give in and let the Red Place tear this town apart, leaving nothing but wreckage and the shreds of these things.

She could. But the others would die.

They'd have to fight around her berserk, and she'd lash out at them as much as she did their enemies. And Imperator alone knew how long it'd take to drag herself free afterwards.

She steeled herself.

No.

I don't need you.

And the world unfroze, the Red Place's furious snarls die unheard in her ears. Kyra staggered back into Alcander. The boy had dropped his spear and was trying to hold her up. Zeth and Priam had started to advance towards them, Letha faster. Maria had to close. With all of them together they'd be able to throw up a formation. With Kuei gone that was their best option. Adonia was already moving. She joined her, matching her steps to the older woman's stride-

Until Oyster's hands caught hold of their collars and yanked.

Maria couldn't help herself. Some reactions were so deeply ingrained they might as well be instinct, and the pit had given her one response to hands at her neck. The spear swung around in a brutal arc. The mushroom had clearly expected something, though; he caught her weapon by the shaft.

"Don't."

"Whatthefuckareyoudoing!?" Adonia's voice hissing and high pitched.

"We can't gather, he's-"

And then Kuei struck.

His mask pushed up and out of the nearest flesh curtain as the others assembled. He was naked, now, but for the mask, and she could see his body. Rail thin, every bone and tendon clear as day through his dusky skin, hairless as a child. Warm golden gleam to his skin; turtle-born, clearly. He arched his back, spread his armed.

Screamed.

The curtains lunged, fused, becoming a tsunami that descended on the others from every angle. Maria watched with horrified fascination as they slammed down on her clanmates. She saw their spears flash for a moment, and then the tsunami closed over them.

"No."

She tried to recognise the voice. Realised it was hers.

"No, no, no-"

"True Masks control your mind first, then they take your body," said Oyster. He was spitting out words in a staccato burst, fast as he could manage. "That's how it works. The others aren't his yet, so he can't get their cultivation, but-"

Kuei's head turned back to stare at them.

"Ah, Sir Mushroom. I thought I'd made it clear – those are my secrets."

He started towards them. A flicker at the corner of Maria's vision drew her eye to the roofs of the street they were on. More curtains. Dozens of them. They'd be overwhelmed in seconds. Oyster followed her gaze.

Cursed.

Drew more knives.

"Go," he growled. Maria stared at him. "GO," he said again, voice hot with battle-fury. "NOW." And then he was up in the air again, throwing and drawing and throwing, curses exploding out over the flesh curtains as he did so.

For a second she didn't understand. Then it clicked. She and Adonia were clan members. He wasn't. If he bought them time to get to Three Frogs, they could raise the local garrison and return.

A long shot. But the best they had.

She grabbed Adonia's hand and ran.
---

Almost done. Almost fucking done. Jesus. This story. @TehChron @Alectai may I have this threadmarked, please?

 

[BadAtScreenNames]

The Mirror (Part 6 of 7)
Maria turn 8 seventh omake​

The sun had started to set a while back. Maria was still running. Adonia was ahead, twenty, maybe thirty feet, skidding to a halt and turning to fling her spear. Maria dived, rolled, felt the spear's passing slip through the air inches above her, came up onto her feet already starting a sprint. The curtain behind her gave a gasping scream as it took the blow. She reached back (still running), fingertips just grasping the butt of the spear, pulled. It came free.

They blurred away into the sunset, not looking back. The other curtains would still be following. Maria twisted, flicked the spear into Adonia's hands.

"Why- risk-"

"Can't- afford- to- lose- weapon," Maria gasped back.

It had been four hours since the ambush. The horses had been consumed not long after they escaped. Now, only their cultivation kept them from a similar fate. To begin, they'd tried to outpace them, but the damn things were fast, too; they'd been forced into evasive manoeuvres, zig-zagging and skirmishing when they could.

It hadn't worked. Worse, nightfall was taking what light they had to navigate by; Spiteful Heaven only knew how far off course they'd veer. And they were burning Qi too fast. They could keep going for days under normal circumstances, but the curtains had harried them so consistently, their numbers seemingly infinite, that they'd been forced to pull out the stronger techniques just to survive. Exhaustion was going to be an actual problem soon enough. That must have been Kuei's intention; wear them down until they fell, and his monsters could feast.

But there might be an alternative. The dozens of skirmishes had revealed a weakness; the curtains had no eyes, and their mouths were formless gashes riddled with bone teeth. Their only true sense was touch.

"Vibrations," Adonia had said, upon that realisation. "They're- using- the- vibrations."

"But- at the town-"

"He must have directed them."

That had led to more strategizing on half-breaths. If they could open enough of a lead, the vibrations might be harder to follow. It also might not, but they were short on alternatives, and otherwise they were already dead. As it was, they'd need one of them to launch a technique strong enough to drive back pursuit, and that would definitely burn through their qi. It might even burn their cultivation. They'd argued and searched, but there was no other way. One of them would have to risk it.

Maria couldn't say she knew Adonia well. She was just the old woman who sniped at her all the time. Who she was underneath that was a mystery. But it wasn't hard to guess how the argument over which one of them should do it would go. There would be snarled mentions of honour, sacrifice, the good of the clan. They'd go around in circles for gods knew how long, and with each passing second the Curtains would close on them.

They didn't have the time for that. She'd have to do it herself, now.

Maria put her head down, gritted her teeth, and pushed. Open up a little more space. Give herself room to-

And then Adonia ruined everything. The older woman caught hold of Maria's shoulder and pulled herself forward. The distance was minimal, perhaps inches wide, but it was enough to stare into each other's faces.

Adonia looked – tired. Sad.

"No," she gritted. And twisted, leapt.

Threw her spear again.

They'd covered the theory behind the Earth-Shattering Spear at the Dawn Fortress. An ancient technique, supposedly. Simple, too. You just channelled your qi into your throwing arm, pushed half of it into the spear, destabilised it, and let fly. The power of the Blood of Bronze would be amplified, and the terrain could be rearranged without too much difficulty.

The only problem was the price; every drop of qi you had.

The spear hit the ground behind them with a thunderous crack, echoing out across the desert The earth beneath them rumbled. Split. Yawned open. The curtains screamed like pigs in a slaughterhouse, but it didn't last for long. The gap went deep.

Adonia landed roughly, her knees buckling under her. Maria caught her before she fell. They were still for a moment.

Then, in the far distance, another howl-gasp.

"Fuck." Maria sur eyed the horizon. She couldn't see them, but that meant nothing. They could go low, crawl on their bellies like snakes, and you'd never know it. "We have to go. Now."

"Can't," muttered Adonia, sagging like a marionette in Maria's arms. "Nothing… left."

"Find something quickly, then."

"Leave… me."

"No."

"Distract… them. Eating me… stop them… chasing you." She turned an exhausted face up to Maria. "Go."

The two stared at one another. For longer than she'd ever admit, Maria considered. But fuck that. She'd not give the bitch the satisfaction. "He'll get in your head," she hissed. "And then he'll follow whichever way I go."

Maria shifted her grip, heaved Adonia onto her shoulders, and ran.

---

They found the cave after the moon had started to rise. She'd checked three before it, but they weren't deep enough. They needed darkness, and quiet. Here, at last, they'd found them. She heaved Adonia a little higher, and staggered inside. Deeper. Gods, she was tired. She could stop. Lie down. Sleep. But no. Deeper. Deeper into the dark. Kept going until at last the shadows wrapped her up like a shield and at last collapsed.

She lay like that, with Adonia piled up beside her, in those shadows, for gods knew how long. She didn't sleep. Knew that much, at least. Eyes locked on the cave mouth, and the pool of moonlight on the floor. Sat and waited. Long. So long. Any second. Any second there'd be that awful exhalation. Gasping, sighing, screaming flesh, puppeteered by black veins. And then they'd be done. Dead. Dead and eaten.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

They didn't come.

After a moment, Adonia stirred, coughed.

"Why?" Her voice was slurred. Qi exhaustion. They'd talked about this back at the Dawn Fortress too. Push too hard, go too far, and your body went into shock. "Why- didn't you…" another cough. Wet sound to it. "You don't even like me."

Maria sighed. "Shut up, Adonia." It came out wearier than she'd like.

"Should have left me."

More silence.

"Should have. Should have," Adonia growled.

"No."

"Could have made it to-"

"Told you, he could have found where I went in your head."

"I wouldn't have broken."

Maria tried to leave it. But Heaven's bullshit mercy, she didn't have it in her. Not today.

"Of course you wouldn't. Perfect little Optimatoi that you are," she muttered. The contempt didn't quite hide the envy.

She felt Adonia shift. Stare at her.

"What?"

"I don't like you? You don't like me. Fucking hate me, as far as I can tell. Because I'm Turtle-Blood, right?" The words were boiling out of her now like water from a kettle left too long over the fire. "Not just the Red Place. Started long before that. Because I was late that first day? Held on far too long for that. But you hate Oyster too. That's how I guessed. Turtle-blood. Too little Bronze, far too much everything else. Because you're better, aren't you. Yeah. Good family, stretches all the way back to Imperator knows when. Bet you don't even know. Can't even remember. Good little Golden Devil stuck with some bastard-whelped-"

That's right. Tell her. Tell her all of it.

She wasn't shouting, but her voice was starting to rise. Damnit. She hadn't even noticed the anger building up. Had to stop it, now. She caught her jaw with her will and dragged it shut. The furious words were piling up on her tongue, acidic and hot. She shut her eyes. Breathed.

Still rather lie, then. Stupid child.

Not listening.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. She felt the Red Place's thoughts withdraw into her head, denied this time. Kept up the cycle, still and consistent, until it was gone.

Adonia was still staring at her. She didn't look over.

"Just- go to sleep," she muttered. It was stupid, she knew- she wasn't going to – but she hadn't the will to spare for forcing an apology.

Adonia ignored her. Kept staring.

"…I don't-" she started. Qi Exhaustion still slurring her speech. Maybe that's why it stopped. She started again. "You- must know your rages are-"

"Said go to sleep, for fucks sake."

Another silence. Longer. Adonia turned her face away.

"…Not because of your blood," she muttered. Maria couldn't stop a derisive, disbelieving little laugh. "It's not. Turtle-bloods all through the clan. Still got the blood. Still… still Optimatoi. It's- Gods." Another silence. "How old are you?"

"37."

"And already 8th​ Heavenstage."

Maria shifted. "Lot of talents these days."

"A lot more. Not a lot." She coughed, gasped, continued. "I am 94. I have spent years studying, practicing, and serving the clan. I'm at the 7th​ Heavenstage. I will, perhaps, make it to the eighth before I die."

They sat in silence.

"…You're *jealous*?" Maria couldn't keep the incredulity out of her tone. Adonia grunted. "That's why-"

"I told you it wasn't your blood."

Maria couldn't help it. She started laughing.

"Shut up."

She didn't. As best as she could, she tried to stifle it, but she just kept laughing, shoulders shaking, tears running down her cheeks. When finally she managed to calm down a little, she spoke.

"Gods. I thought- Gods."

"Yes. Well."

"Kind of flattering."

The silence went on a moment longer.

"You," said Adonia, begrudgingly, "are a rare talent. An exceptional fighter. And an asset to the clan."

Maria felt her cheeks warm at the praise.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"You are welcome."

"How charming," said Kuei. The Carpets surged inside.

---

This damn series. Keeps growing. @TehChron @Alectai @Kaboomatic @Humbaba could this please be bookmarked