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

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Gaius Antonius 83 - Greater And Greater
Gaius Antonius 83 - Greater and Greater​

In the wake of the powerful revelations of the previous floor, Gaius found himself deeply relieved when the twenty-sixth merely contained a monster. A wide and tall cylinder of a room, the upper levels were lined with some kind of interlocking net-like structure affixed to the stone, to which the newest obstacle clung.

The Floor Guardian appeared to be some kind of owl, over twenty feet in height. A great beast, bearing feathers of gold and silver amongst the white and brown, it bore itself aloft on huge, powerful wings, and carried two sets of talons. It did not attack right away, instead tilting its head and watching closely, waiting for an opening.

An exhalation of tightly-held tension unwound itself from Gaius' lungs, until it felt as if his bated breath was large enough to fill the entire cave network. Khardaza's axe was consumed with flame and re-formed into a greatsword, and Gaius took a steady, defensive stance. His third eye opened, and the world exploded into information, as many possible futures became clear to him.

Diving down from above, his foe pecked at him repeatedly, and Gaius dodged it all. The owl reared up to rip into him with its talons, only for Scylla to burst out from her tank and headbutt the bird. The two went on a combined offensive right away, as Gaius leapt onto Scylla's back and pursued the retreating enemy.

He slashed at it again and again, firing off waves of bloodflame and volleys of Aegis projections, but the owl was just too fast, dodging it all and circling around to attack the pair from behind. They split up, Gaius jumping off Scylla's back as she dived down, both avoiding the newest charge.

The dance continued on for some time; in truth, this enemy was about as powerful as the fire spirit, but far more difficult to throttle. His emanations were perhaps reducing its power by one quarter, but that was enough. The two sides battled evenly for some time, Scylla blasting the beast with fire and wind and Gaius assailing it with his constructs. Occasionally the owl would gain the upper hand, only to be pushed back before it could do much damage. At other times, Gaius and Scylla would take the dominant position, only for their enemy to slip away into the air and reposition itself.

This sort of battle, as Gaius knew, was the way Cores fought. Hours, sometimes days, wearing one another down, with victory being clawed away by inches. His way of doing things, however, wasn't so passive. Allowing the beast to get close, he parried its lunging beak aside as if it were a sword, then kicked it in the head. It stumbled back, and Gaius saw something new.

All at once, the road split one more time. Additional routes opened up, where it had previously not existed, highlighted by the appearance of several new before-echoes. This monster had a weakpoint, a wound on its belly, hidden beneath that curtain of feathers, which had been infected and allowed to fester. As a result, the skin was thin and discolored, and the tissue beneath weak.

That scar had been there already - Gaius had glimpsed it, then dismissed it as irrelevant information - but it had not been vulnerable. It had been a harsh line of rough, thick tissue, nothing weak or exploitable. But now, as of this very moment, that had never been true. The new truth was as such: that weakness had always been present, and a way forward was thus shown to the King.

The name had come to Gaius the moment he took up the power of the Second Reinforcement: Open Causeway. The power of miracles of impossibility, a power that could turn zero into one.

Juking to the side and allowing the great bird's beak to pass by him, Gaius thrust with a blade of gold, striking the scar and tearing into the skin. He twisted the blade, straining against its thick, nearly immovable flesh, and ripped it out. Angered, the owl pecked and clawed at Gaius again and again, forcing him to back away beneath its furious assault, then flapped its mighty wings, blowing the King off his feet.

But as the owl rose into the air, blood dripping from its re-opened wound, ready to plunge down upon its enemy, a humongous mass rose up behind the great bird. A wall of blue and green scales with lustrous bronze filling in the spaces between. Her roar seemed fit to tear the entire cave asunder. Nearly fifty feet in length, the sheer mass of the thing she had became served to dwarf the Floor Guardian, and made the chamber suddenly feel so much smaller.

Scylla's teeth - brutal fangs the size of saber blades now, not the daggers of a Rainbow Carp - sunk into the great bird's flesh, and she wrenched it backwards. The owl let out a booming, angry squawk as it thrashed this way and that, trying to throw its heavier opponent off, leaving just the opening Gaius needed.

Kardaza's axe, now twisted and elongated into the shape of a spear, pierced into the owl's belly, right in its weak point. Another spear, this one an Aegis projection, followed, striking the butt of the first and driving it farther in. A third spear immediately crashed into the second with unerring accuracy, driving the first spear another foot deeper.

The owl screamed and redoubled its resistance, finally throwing Scylla off. Blood sprayed in all directions from the great bird's wounds, and it began to lose altitude, attacking Gaius in something of a controlled fall. Vaulting over that desperate final lunge, Gaius landed on the mighty bird's back and focused the full force of his will onto the weapon inside its body.

He pulled, telekinetic might straining against the beast's natural resilience - even its insides were extremely tough. With a brutal wrenching, the spear moved upward, tearing through its entrails, through its lungs, and finally bursting out the back of its neck. The owl was reduced to feeble, tortured twitching, lacking the strength to scream. It skidded across the ground before coming to a stop, where Scylla clamped her jaws around its neck and mercifully ended its suffering. Everything fell quiet as the pair caught their breath.

Even as Scylla's movements came to a near-halt and her bloodlust died down, Gaius could not deny how intimidating it felt to stand before her now. There was an almost divine presence about her in this form, a regality achieved by simply existing. Scylla felt almost hyper-real, etched into the word by the finest chisel.

Such was the presence of a Dragonfish, a being close to a true Dragon. A scourge of divine judgment, able to wipe out cities and boil lakes. As such, even a False Core Dragonfish, the weakest of them all, instilled in the human brain an instinctive desire to submit. It would be best for Gaius to turn his mind away from such unsettling thoughts, then.

"That felt too easy." Gaius muttered, continuing to carve the corpse into pieces. The real prize was found deep within, a seemingly mundane Beast Core, albeit a fairly large one. It was a dull gold color, and rather than firm all the way through, it had a hollow center filled with gas. His Celestial Bronze dagger cut into it smoothly, splitting it perfectly into two halves.

Gaius began to eat one half, and tossed the other to Scylla. "A Core doesn't die like that, right? Not in a matter of minutes." He muttered through a half-full mouth.

Scylla either didn't hear her companion or was too caught up in the beauty and power of her fleeting transformation to care. She snapped up the core in one bite, and reluctantly allowed herself to shrink down to the usual form so she could cultivate.

"I mean, clearly I'm strong, but in theory, a Core should have an advantage at this level, right?" Gaius asked. He hacked the corpse up as his body digested the hefty beast core. It would be another minute before he had even processed the thing enough to properly cycle it.

Scylla snapped up a flying leg in mid-air and tried to chew on it. The bones snapped under her jaws, but she couldn't bear to chew it at all. After a moment, she spat it out, coughing, as loose feathers fell from her mouth. "Eugh, why does anyone eat anything with feathers?"

Gaius sighed, dismissing his worries. What was the point of dwelling on it? He had won, and that was what mattered. "Well, if it works, it works."

—-

"This is where I'm fated to die, Scylla." Gaius said, peering through the entrance of the twenty-seventh floor. Before him was a sprawling expanse of desert, with the crystals up above on the ceiling giving the illusion of a starry night sky.

"I suppose so. It said you'd die on the twenty-seventh floor, cut apart by an invisible mantis." Scylla noted, her voice taking a grim tone. "But revealing the future leaves it vulnerable to change. Prophecies can sometimes be wrong."

"I've already seen how it happens. It kills me in that future because I don't know anything about it." Gaius muttered, reaching into a pouch and retrieving his invisible arrow. "Didn't have a good chance to use this thing, but I think now might be the time."

"Do you really think the mantis will fall for its own ability?" Scylla asked skeptically.

Gaius grinned savagely. "No, I think it'll realize what I'm doing. Fear will be my weapon. Stay out of it."

"Glutton."

"I don't wanna hear that from you."

Gaius trudged through the sand, each step causing the tension to rocket ever higher. The waiting was the worst part; knowing he was about to be in danger but having no way to avert that outcome. Knowledge of the future would become less valuable the moment he changed it. Everything up until the moment he broke away had to be perfect. Sweat dripped down his neck and gathered in his palms from the anxious anticipation.

Right now. This was the moment it all began. It flashed through Gaius' mind all at once - that inauspicious prophecy of doom. Once more he saw it, his body carved to pieces by an enemy that could not be glimpsed in the slightest. It would approach him from the left, and the appearance of prints in the sand would draw his attention at the last second. He would launch an attack, which the beast would narrowly dodge, then sever his arm while dashing past him.

Instead, Gaius conjured up a sword and threw a faint at, seemingly, nothing, then pivoted away at the last second. The feeling of a blade slicing through the air stirred the wind into his face, and he threw a low kick. Something impacted his leg, but, eerily, the collision produced no sound whatsoever. The only sign that something had been there was the imprint in the snow as the Floor Guardian tumbled across the sand.

Gaius strode out farther into the chamber, flinging a handful of conjured knives at where the beast had fallen and, seemingly, missing. He drew out the invisible arrow, commanding it to fly around this way and that, in the vague direction he knew the Floor Guardian to be. Once again, no dice. Prints in the sand began to appear here and there, the only sign of the beast's passage. This was, presumably, what the sand was for; without it, the challenge would be even less fair. It couldn't be seen or heard - what an asshole.

"I've seen your moves already." Said Gaius, pitching himself to the side and feeling the rush of air as an attack flew over his shoulder. The invisible arrow struck in response, but the beast had already moved. "Not once, but endless times. The alternate self you killed lasted a while and mostly figured out how you fight. I've already solved these rudimentary attacks!"

Three steps to the right, and another invisible swing went wide. The arrow flew once more, and missed once more. "You're so weak. An ambush predator that preys on other Early Cores with dirty tricks."

The scratches left upon the sand grew harsher by slight degrees, deeper in some spots and shallower in others. The beast was getting angry, aware on some instinctual level that its place on the food chain was being challenged. Good, let it get frustrated, let it lose focus, Gaius thought.

The enemy was outside of Gaius' perception, but that was not an advantage it monopolized. If neither could see the other's attack coming, then the exchange would come down to instinct and intelligence. Tabula Rasa stayed off. Without enough sensory information, the predictions would be inaccurate, hazy things. Better to focus the entirety of his capabilities onto merely understanding the present.

One step back, two to the left, and the monster's charge went wide. More tracks appeared in the sand in front of Gaius as his enemy stopped and spun around to face him again. Spurred on by the force of Gaius' telekinesis, the invisible arrow whirled in circles around him, faintly whistling. The Floor Guardian was definitely trying to avoid the arrow on top of attacking him; he'd been hoping to land an attack before it even knew the arrow existed, but as he had said earlier: fear made a good weapon too.

Waving his hand, Gaius fired off a spray of conjured needles in a wide cone, none of which hit anything, but prompted the prints in the sand to move around him. Gaius whirled around as his enemy rapidly approached - swinging from swordfighting range wasn't working, and now it would try something riskier: lunging into extreme close range and stabbing him. At such a distance, dodging without sight would no longer be possible.

The sharp fwit of his arrow, right in front of the invisible mantis, stopped it short. It immediately leapt to dodge the equally invisible assailant - right into a trap.

A gout of blood burst out of thin air in front of and above Gaius, as the invisible arrow smashed all the way through the invisible beast from behind. The sound it had fled from, the only sign of the weapon Gaius had employed, had come from his own mouth, a distraction built upon repeated psychological conditioning.

Partially outlined in blood, the arrow flew into Gaius' hand. Upon touching it, he saw that it was broken, having shattered from the force of penetrating all the way through a Core-level beast's body. Already, its charm was wearing off, causing it to flicker into sight.

The heavy flow of blood, flickering in an out of sight, marked the location of Gaius' enemy clearly. He focused his Emanations more tightly upon the body of his foe, which crumpled entirely before the pressure, fading fully into view. A grey-green insect, clad in a thick exoskeleton with bladed arms like those of a mantis, it twitched miserably as its life bled out through the hole in his head.

Gaius chuckled, the tension of that deadly battle releasing bit by bit. "Damn, that was a lucky hit!"

After making certain the beast was dead, by way of impaling it several more times, Gaius slung the insect over his shoulder and slunk off to find a smoother place to sit. "And that's all she wrote." He said with a smirk.

Scylla followed behind, laughing joyfully. "Slaying an invisible enemy with an invisible weapon? Very amusing."

"Oh? I actually impressed you that time?"

"Sometimes miracles happen."

——

Anytime Gaius started getting used to the cave's challenges, something new showed up. This one seemed particularly novel, in that it was the most artificial-looking challenge yet.

No stone here at all. Beneath his feet: a steel grate, like a metal net , suspending him over a massive boiling lake. Lining the walls: cannons, massive array contraptions of fire and steel far beyond his limited expertise. Half metal tube, half arcane projection, they took metal balls filled with some explosive substance and accelerated them towards him.

Immediately Gaius began dodging and running. There was no time to think whatsoever. Several small explosions resounded right where he had just been as he juked this way and that, activating Tabula Rasa to see it all. However, before he could go far, Gaius found himself violently throwing himself to the side as a huge gout of thick steam erupted beneath his feet, scalding the skin on his legs from the near-miss.

The exit, where was the exit!? Gaius focused his senses in one direction for a single risky moment, only to find the painful truth: it was about a mile away. Alright then: no way out but through.

After that initial minute of surprise and confusion, Gaius realized that he was more than equipped to handle this chamber. The gouts of steam were child's play to avoid. For most, predicting them would be difficult, but to Gaius, the beginning signs of each and every explosion were made clear to him as if they had been painted on a canvas. His route, seemingly random from an outside perspective, ensured that none got anywhere close to him.

The residual heat, dangerous in its own right, was more of a chore to deal with. It made sweat pour from every inch of his body, eating away at his skin bit by bit. Nonetheless, the Blood-Forge conferred enough heat resistance that exhaustion and heat stroke were not an immediate concern.

That left only the cannons; simplicity itself. The immediate intervals were irregular, but there was a larger pattern. Three shots in three second intervals, then four shots in four second intervals, then three shots in two second intervals, then a five second gap, followed by a final shot, after which the pattern reset. A few dozen cannons lined the walls in total, each with enough range to reach across the course, and each one staggered one tenth of a second ahead of the last. It felt like a constant, chaotic stream of destruction, but in truth, it was eminently predictable, so long as one kept track of every individual cannon separately - Gaius could do that too.

The intent of this course became clear rather quickly; a test of his precognition. Unless one was far enough above the level of this floor to react to all of the dangers with reflex alone, then survival would depend upon one's ability to predict what was coming at all times. A precognitive technique, one requiring constant focus, might wear one down if used continuously for a long time, but Tabula Rasa was a part of Gaius. It came out as easily as breathing, if he let it.

As such, his success was yet another predetermined thing, no more surprising than any other predicted outcome. Gaius' feet crossed the threshold where metal grated gave way to cold stone ground, and the cannons ceased firing.

Immediately, the reward made itself known. A relief of a man strung up by his wrists was carved into the wall by the exit, a dull green glimmering in his mouth. Reaching in, Gaius carefully pried this new treasure out, finding it to be a piece of raw jade, removed from the earth but not shaped into any particular form. An oblong lump, unremarkable if not for the way it made his soul alight with excitement at the slightest brush.

"Did you call out to me, darling?" Gaius asked, a sweet smile blooming across his aristocratic features. Not bothering to wipe the blood from his hands first, he turned the lump of jade over in his hands to examine the whole thing. It was heavier than expected, dense in some unusual way. It was not only unrefined, but impure as well, forest green dappled with speckles of black and white.

The blood rubbed off on the jade, and Gaius saw flashes of insight.

He led his forces against a beast with no form, driving it back to the depths it came from. In the end, it spoke one word: 'Niddhogg'. Wings of brass lifted his followers into the sky, and hands of gold cradled their fragile flesh. Ancient Wills, stacked in neat rows and packed together into the smallest possible space, charted their course. It was there for a instant, and then it was gone. Only a crude recollection remained.

Was that a prophecy, or a memory? He pocketed the stone before it could torment him further; he would examine this thing more closely in a more comfortable spot. He longed to get out of this heat.

—-

No no no. This couldn't possibly be real.

Gaius knelt, battered and tired, atop the body of some huge armored thing, and cast his senses out upon the lands before him. If the place where he fought the bats had been akin to a small, petty fiefdom, then this one was an entire country in earnest. To the west, the sea stretched on, before suddenly hitting a wall and stopping. To the east, the shoreline slowly turned to rocky ground, leading into rolling green hills. To the north, more shoreline. Past the hills stood thick forests and small mountains, each mountain dotted with foothills.

The spaces, having grown more impossible with each successive descent, had culminated in something truly unbelievable. This was an island; a big one. An entire large island, inside of a cave. More uncanny though, were the qi signatures.

The beast beneath Gaius, a hard-shelled thing akin to a fat, tail-less scorpion, had been difficult enough to deal with on its own; much of the beach was a blasted ruin now. Some hundred feet out, Scylla carried another beast of the same species, already drooling in anticipation. Both of those had been Core Formation beasts, if quite weak ones. Possibly two of the weakest animals on the island.

They numbered in the thousands, roaming the island snuffing one another out - thousands of Core Formation spirit beasts, enclosed here together like some kind of twisted zoo, the strongest of them even reaching Mid Core. The only reason Gaius was alive was that they didn't seem to instinctively know his location the way most Floor Guardians did.

Could any country support a density of Core Formation creatures like that, in their blighted dead sea? It wasn't something he could properly fathom. What kinds of resources would thousands of Cores need, in order to sustain themselves? It would take an economy with a production several times than that of the present Golden Devils, surely.

But the truly frightening part was that this was a single floor. Floor Guardians could, through some mechanism, move themselves, that was true. That meant it was possible that not every possible floor was "staffed" constantly. But even so…

Even so…

"What the hell is this place, Scylla?" Gaius asked, voice trembling. "This is one chamber, you know. Even if all of these monsters died, it would resurrect them all like nothing happened!"

His eyes grew wide and wild as he tried to process the sheer implications. "It's the twenty ninth floor, only a few floors into the Core Formation section. After that is the entire Nascent Soul section." He gripped his hair in tight fistfuls and huddled tighter and tighter. "Every single one has an appropriate threat, and this cave can revive all of them over and over. Scylla, how is it not all duels now!? How are there still armies at a level like this!? How many Cores does the whole network have!? How many Nascents!? How…"

Gaius' own anxiety closed his throat up tight, leaving the last question unsaid. How much qi was in the caves, to fuel it all. If this one chamber eclipsed the entirety of the Golden Devil Clan's economic capacity in upkeep cost, then how many thousands, or tens of thousands of times over, did the entire network do it? How strong were the ones who built it?

Gaius had never felt so painfully small. Not even when standing before the grand Elder did the sheer scope of what stood between different classes of beings make itself known to him in such a fashion. And here he was, so very far beneath the earth, walking into the machinations of being so far beyond his comprehension.

Scylla was shouting something, he realized. There were some kind of words, or at least he was pretty sure they were words, beating on the inside of his head. He couldn't hear it over all the ringing.

Beneath Gaius, the cloudy black eye of the dead beast seemed to stare up into his soul. How could something this strong be a weak prey animal? What did that say about him?

Why did he tough it out for five hundred years?

Gaius doubled over, clutching his abdomen. What was this pain? Some poison, perhaps, affecting his intestines? He retched, bending forward until the top of his head touched the ground. Colors swam before his eyes, and it felt as if a terrible shaking had taken the entire world.

Against the unraveling of his being, something in the depths of The Seeker's mind grasped for clarity, for life. He arched his back, raising his head up - then brought it down upon the monster's shell, cracking it from the sheer force and filling his head with a tight, fuzzy feeling. Blood relentlessly dripped down Gaius' face from his cut-up forehead, but despite that, he felt somewhat better now.

"Can you hear me now!?" Scylla growled, headbutting Gaius in the chest and making him stumble backwards. "Say something, damnit!"

"I hear you just fine, sorry about that." Gaius sighed, soaking his hands in the blood and using it to slick his hair back, out of his face. "I got a little intimidated."

"I'd say you were more than a little intimidated." The Rainbow Carp sighed. "You were terrified, completely hysterical. What, do you find it frightening that the natural world contains things more powerful than human nations?"

Gaius laughed, both amused and furious with himself for nearly breaking his Pillar, for that, unmistakably, was what he had done. Unacceptable; he was still far too green. "Maybe I do. You'd probably call that the 'coddled mindset of a monkey', wouldn't you?"

"I would. Who cares how much strength is concentrated down here?" Scylla declared, puffing out her chest. "If they wished, the forces of nature could engulf the works of the civilized world at any time. The reason they do not is because they do not collectively care. They do not benefit from building sprawling empires, made up of hundreds of nations who barely know one another."

Gaius smiled, carefree as could be. "This hole in the ground has enough strength to slaughter every human being in the Third Sea. Whatever. Another one of life's absurdities; it won't keep me down."

And so, they went back into the fray.

On and on, those battles continued; blood-drenched combat suitable for Hell itself. Gaius cut the throat of a bull-man, drenching himself in gore. Scylla burned away a giant venomous plant, which spewed billowing clouds of multicolored smoke as its toxins combusted. Gaius was best upon by demon, fiercer, larger and more deformed than Kardaza, and ran it through. Scylla smashed apart the rotten, reanimated remains of a long-dead dragon, insisting that only she had the right to perform the deed.

But more than anything, they hid. The massive landscape, the size of a large island in its totality, housed monsters around every corner. Rather than an all-out killing field, it was more like a place of measured carnage. Everything in this place hated everything else, attacking their neighbors on sight. Thus, nothing could move out in the open for long without risking destruction itself. Gaius and Scylla learned the ways of this place quickly.

Their bodies braved a constant storm of punishment and injury, testing the limits of their sturdiness and resilience. The ability of the Blood of Bronze to enhance the body's healing was taxed to the utmost, and ever so steadily began to diminish, until their bodies didn't seem to recover much at all.

A month passed, with dangerous battles happening almost every day, before the two, utterly exhausted, approached the end. Climbing out of a deep, rocky valley, they came upon the exit, marked by a ring of False Sun Crystals and surrounded by a deep groove carved into the stone. All that was left was to cross that line and they would be safe.

Gaius' skin had grown pale and his nails discolored from infection. He shook and sweat, even when not fighting. One of his legs was broken; twisted ninety degrees to the side and seeping blood which soaked his pant leg. The sight before him, shown through blurry vision, was wonderfully sweet.

Just one problem: The hulking Sphinx which sat in front of the line. True to the descriptions Gaius had heard of the beast, it had the body of a lion, the tail of a scorpion and the face of an old woman. Supposedly, many variations existed, but this was a common one. It turned to behold the two, eyes flashing in the glimmer of the crystals in an inhuman fashion.

"My my my, aren't you something?" The woman-faced cat asked, her voice distorted by a mouth full of fangs. "You've come all this way, still fighting so hard, and for what? Treasure? Enlightenment?"

"All that and more." Scylla declared, baring her own fangs. "Shall you be another sacrifice to that end?"

"Mmm, tempting, tempting it is, but I've already eaten well today." The sphinx laughed, flopping over on her side and grinning at the pair. "You know, there are no grudges in this room. We are all reborn after a day, to die and kill again. The ones you've killed, they gossip about you."

"Oh do they?" Gaius smirked, crossing his arms. "And what do they say?"

"That you're strong, and smart. That your will to live is your greatest weapon. That the blood is settling in quite nicely." The sphinx cooed, rolling over onto her other side. "Indeed, I think you're ready for another dose."

With that, the beast unhinged her jaw, opening it up to a grotesque width, until it seemed like her face was about to split in two. Deep red light shined from inside her throat, bathing the man and fish in an infernal radiance. Gaius' skin itched intensely as he felt cuts closing all over his body, along with the grinding, piercing pain of new teeth growing in.

It was over in moments, and the mercurial creature got up, stretching out languidly before trundling off as Gaius and Scylla recovered from the daze. At the last moment, she turned around to address Gaius again. "You'll go far, I'm sure of it. You have the scent of a conqueror."

With that, the threshold to the exit was open, and no more enemies blocked their way. They simply crossed the line in the stone and it was done with. They took a few hours to simply rest their weary minds and bodies, not speaking or even thinking much.

The mending of their wounds was a laughable reward for fighting through such a hellscape. It wasn't really a reward at all, so much as a lessening of the inevitable consequences of the attempt. Perhaps, then, the real prize was the experience; harsh battlefield wisdom, teaching through direct demonstration the ways in which one survived in Core-level combat. Gaius couldn't deny that he had indeed become a better fighter, but it wasn't the sort of gift he would ever give thanks for.

"Should we keep going?" Scylla asked, trying to make it sound more casual than it was. "We seem to be brushing up against our limits. We will be risking our lives on every floor, from now on."

"Don't give me that crap." Gaius laughed, walking around to test leg, which seemed to no longer be broken. Well. Perhaps 'no longer broken' was a little too generous. It still hurt, and itched deep within too, in the way that a halfway-mended bone does. But everything was aligned and pointed the right way, which meant his body could do the rest within a couple of days.

"I mean it, think about it."

"No you don't. I know you, and I know that you want to do more."

Scylla rolled her eyes. "It's not about me. I'll ask you again - do you want to leave? Your mental state seems fragile, brother."

Gaius hardly registered Scylla's words, still enraptured by the little chunk of elucidation given form. "What? No. I feel alright. I'm fine…" He muttered. "Can't clear the floor out. Have to stay here by the exit for a couple weeks…"

Sit. Medical tools. Clean the wounds, set the bones, clean Scylla's wounds, set her bones, stitch, bandage. Spirit stones. Replenish qi. Rats, mice, bugs, moss, Legionnaire rations. Eat. Bedroll, barrel. Sleep. The routine the two performed at the end of every chamber had become a well-worn one at some point.

—-

The thirtieth floor, as it turned out, filled Gaius with almost as much dread as the twenty-ninth. After what he'd seen in that teahouse, a restaurant could only mean one thing.

The building was seven stories in total, a rectangular stack of floors with elaborately curved red roofing. In the center of the first floor was a big, wide set of doors, already open for him. To either side of the door stood a doorman, both of whom bowed deeply and beckoned Gaius in.

Gaius sighed. Time for another lesson with Ji Shin, then. His feet carried him in with a mind of their own, as his body instinctually approached his destiny. The inside of the restaurant was tastefully opulent; not overly ornamental or ostentatious, but tastefully displaying wealth through the quality of the marble floors and the rich wood of the furniture.

Before Gaius could get far, he found himself stopped by a zombie, one of a similar type to the ones back at the teahouse. The man's cloudy, bloodless eyes looked at Gaius politely as he bowed. "Thank you for dining with us today, sir. However, we cannot allow pets in the establishment."

"I am no pet, little corpse!" Scylla growled, bursting out of her tank and looming over the waiter. "And you're the ones who put this building here in the way of the exit!"

"Stop it, there's no point getting violent here." Gaius chided, before turning back to the waiter. "Look, We're both very worn out, as you can see. We've been fighting down here for a long time. Can't we both eat?"

"Not to worry, sir." The waiter said, maintaining that serene tone flawlessly. "We have all manner of kitchen scraps we can feed to the beast. She may wait in the storage area and can eat all she likes, but she cannot take part in the tests themselves."

"Tests, you say?" Gaius asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, tests. We apologize for any discomfort, but we have been advised to administer a series of tests to you before you can leave." The waiter explained, bowing again. "Not to worry Sir, none of them pose a risk of physical harm, and you may attempt them as many times as you wish."

Gaius snorted, then broke into full-blown laughter. A free win!? This was nothing, he had persisted for five hundred years already - any trial which could be overcome through a brute force approach was, as far as Gaius was concerned, already overcome.

The restaurant, he soon realized, was true to its word; they didn't care about anything as long as he didn't get in the way of the tests or the kitchen. This was a game-changer, because it meant Gaius could do whatever he wished, right there in the dining hall. He kept up his training, taking a break every dozen or so consecutive meals to exercise in the limited ways his confinement could manage.

He practiced with all of his newly acquired treasures, ideas already forming in his mind. The flames of the Blood-Forge danced at his command, melting this bauble and that together into a crude weapon.

The pommel was inlaid with that raw chunk of jade. He wove the tassel from the jet black silk of those space-warping spiders. For the guard, he made use of the beautifully resonant horn of that silver beetle. Finally, the Celestial Bronze made for a splendid base, and some of the metal from Khardaza's axe filled it out farther, until it was large enough to be called a sword and not a large knife.

It was a crude thing, unpleasing to the eye and forged with amateurish hands and no tools. It could be said to be a saber, in that it was a crescent of metal with a sharp outside edge. Lacking a hilt, Gaius smoothed out the bottom until no roughness remained, then bound it tightly in rope. Alloying with mere Spirit Steel would slightly reduce the hardness and cutting power of the blade, but it would still be sufficient to cut through Core Formation hides.

These, however, were merely diversions. Mostly, Gaius ate.

Enough noodles to fill an entire room. Meat so dense, it took ten minutes to chew a single bite. Sauces so spicy they verged on poison, making Gaius sweat and sweat until the floor beneath his chair was soaked. If there was any rhyme or reason to the challenges, Gaius could not tell, but one by one, he ascended the floors of the restaurant. After all of this descending, it was a novelty.

It was comical, more than anything else. A man dressed for war, dirty and shabby from his struggled and wearing the sad remains of what was once sturdy masterwork armor, sitting around eating an endless series of prepared meals. His friends would all have a good laugh about this, once he got out and told them.

One day, flummoxed by the fifth floor and unwilling to eat anymore for a while, Gaius beckoned over a slim waitress with a long, thick braid of hair. She approached at a brisk pace, bearing the doll-like expression typical of a woman providing a service to her social superior.

"Is there anything else you need, Sir?" The waitress asked demurely, bowing at the waist.

Gaius chuckled. "There's a lot of things I need, and you people can't give me most of them."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that, Sir." She replied with no change in tone. "Is there anything that we can do for you?"

Gaius exhaled slowly through his nose, looking down at the half-eaten bowl of stew before him in disgust. He quickly decided that he'd rather look at the pretty woman calling him 'Sir', and turned back to meet her gaze. "What's your name, miss? Where are you from?"

She blinked hard, taken aback by such a personal question. "My name? It's…" she trailed off, eyes half lidded, and stood stock still for several seconds. "Gong Chunhua." She finished, snapping back to reality. "And I am from the Shanqu Clan."

How interesting. He'd suspect the woman of lying, if not for the total certainty with which she had spoke. She really hadn't remembered her own name?

"How did you come to this restaurant, Miss Gong?" Gaius asked, turning to the side and leaning his forearm on the back of his chair. "Did you try to dive down here once?"

If the undead woman could sweat, he imagined she would be sweating now. Her hands, which were folded behind her back, must have trembled terribly, because her shoulder were shaking too. "I am sorry, I don't believe this sort of conversation is allowed within protocol."

"Who wrote the protocol?"

Gong Chunhua's pupils shrunk to pinpricks, and she took a step back, her unsettled body language contrasting strangely with her lack of breath or heartbeat. "I… I… our job is to provide you with service, Mr. Antonius."

Looking over Gong Chunhua's shoulder, Gaius spotted two more waiters entering the room and standing by the door. They kept their eyes affixed squarely on the woman's back, watching with hawk-like sharpness. He heard the waitress' teeth begin to quietly chatter behind her smiling, painted lips, as if their attention had physically struck her.

This angle wouldn't go anywhere productive, it seemed. Alright, time to try another. Gaius pushed the chair away from the table, turning it to face the door, and sat with his legs spread apart. "Service, huh? Alright. And you say you'll do anything you can for me. Then let me hit you with a hypothetical."

Gaius looked Gong Chunhua in the eye and pointed at the ground in front of him. "Hypothetically, if I were to tell you to get on your knees and give me oral sex, would you? I'm not telling you to, of course, that would be very rude."

The building fear finally threatened to overwhelm Gong Chunhua's fake smile, and she began to shake again, but with a monumental effort, the waitress righted her face and posture once again. "Hypothetically… I would follow your request, Sir…"

"And how does that make you feel? Would you really be okay with doing that? Right here, in front of your coworkers, in front of…" Gaius gestured vaguely, at the cave itself, or perhaps at its governing intelligence.

Gong Chunhua would definitely be crying now, were she capable. The cognitive dissonance of her conscious mind pressing up against whatever compelled her was practically audible. A sharp, unpleasant discordance; she had probably not felt so much free will in a very, very long time. "As w-waiters… as waiters in this restaurant, we are to service the customer h-however we can…"

"I know!" Gaius snapped, getting to his feet and taking a step closer to the terrified zombie. "I know it's your job, but that ain't what I'm asking!"

Hegently put one hand on Gong Chunhua's shoulder. "Hypothetically, if I were to tell you to get on your knees and suck me off right here, would you find it agreeable or disagreeable?"

Gaius didn't know why he was taking this idle curiosity so far, but something within him felt driven to do so. Perhaps it was just his nature: The Seeker is free, freer than anyone else. He simply couldn't tolerate seeing such a suppression of free will before him. To struggle and move forward no matter what, that was the meaning of life.

Gong Chunhua was like a clockwork doll on the verge of breaking down. The other two waiters by the door watched stoically, not saying a word. "D… d… d…" she wheezed out, the tendons in her neck bulging. She wanted so badly to speak, perhaps more than she's ever wanted anything.

"I can't hear you, Miss Gong." Gaius said, placing his other hand on her other shoulder and forcing her to look at him. "Would you, Gong Chunhua, find it agreeable or disagreeable?"

Though now gripped in the throes of a full on panic attack, the zombie seemed to regain a semblance of life, becoming more aware of her situation with every passing moment. The two other waiters approached calmly intruding on the scene and siezing Gong Chunhua by her arms. They tried to pull their coworker away, but she stayed put, Gaius' grip easily overpowering theirs.

"You can do it." Gaius said softly. "The only one silencing you is you."

Something finally broke through. "Disagreeable! It would be disagreeable, Sir!" She shouted, just as a pair of fleshy tendrils burst from the floor and dragged the surprised Gaius back into his seat.

He snapped them, only for a dozen more to wrap around his limbs, holding him tightly in place. "Get off me! Ain't the customer always right, huh?" He growled, continuing to struggle as yet more restraints fastened him down.

"I wouldn't want to do it! I don't want to do any of this!" Gong Chunhua cried out triumphantly, even as the two waiters dragged her away. "My name is Gong Chunhua, from the Shanqu Clan! I wanted to be a dancer! My caravan fell into a sinkhole and into Ji Shin's clutches! You're just like the man he worships! You can-"

The door slammed slut, cutting off the rest of Gong Chunhua's words, and all went still.

—-

Those tendrils bound Gaius tightening for a little while longer, and he didn't bother to fight it. There was no point in starting a serious battle in this place, where the conditions of victory could be achieved with no personal risk.

Another waiter arrived shortly after Gaius was released, advising Gaius to please not antagonize the staff any more, to which he agreed. And just like that, the test went back to how it was before, as if nothing had happened.

Gaius didn't see that particular waitress again, after that incident. What had been done with her, he couldn't say, but he was glad to have given her a moment of individuality again.

The fifth floor was simple: finish a meal, then roll three six-sided dice. If the result was three sixes, he could move on. Yet after over one hundred days, eating ten meals per day, he had no success.

The odds of three sixes were 1 in 216; over one thousand attempts to achieve it was unlucky, but not to an absurd degree - Gaius wasn't good enough at math to figure out the numbers without a visual aid, but he knew that much less common things had happened to him plenty of times.

After that was done with, and the sixth completed without much fuss, Gaius was again flummoxed by the seventh and final floor. Here, there was no path to victory other than straight through. Whereas others had a time limit, or a hidden puzzle, or some other method of obfuscation, this one was incredibly basic: eat the dish ten thousand times.

Ten thousand roast ducks. Not Gaius' favorite, or his least favorite, though he suspected he might hate it by the time he finished. Oh well.

For over three years, Gaius sat at that table eating ten ducks a day. Scylla popped in to say hello once a day, but otherwise kept to herself, apparently working to master her abilities as a False Core Dragonfish. Understandable; jumping back and forth between significantly different levels of power was a difficult thing to adjust to, and training in seclusion was as good a method as any to figure it out.

In a way, this whole delve could be considered training in seclusion. How many years had it been since Gaius had felt the sun on his face, or spoken to a real human? Even leaving aside the relative time of his imprisonment, that left about a year of cumulative time in various floors, plus five in the thirteenth, plus three and a half on this one… almost nine years? Where the hell did the time go?

But of course, it all eventually came to an end. Gaius ate his ten thousandth duck, and the doors of the restaurant's seventh floor creaked open to reveal a familiar figure.

Ji Shin was still clothed in the body of Jin Muyi; perhaps he found it comfortable, given the two had become similar sorts of beings. Gaius reluctantly rose to his feet to meet the mysterious entity; at the very least, this newest prize promised not to be boring. Idly, he grabbed a new napkin from a nearby waiter and wiped his mouth and hands to make himself more presentable for his… teacher? Captor? Stalker?

"You were supposed to come to an epiphany, you dumb pig!" Ji Shin barked, exasperation creeping into his tone. It was the first time Gaius had seen that old monster be anything less than unflappable. "You didn't even try to think of another way through?"

Gaius shrugged. "I'm sorry, but you just made it too easy to brute force."

"T-too…" Ji Shin trailed off, blinking rapidly. "You ate the duck ten thousand times!"

"Yeah, but it wasn't hard to do, just took time, so I did it. You should have hid the number."

Ji Shin's palm struck Gaius sharply on the ear, which rung a bit in response. It was almost gentle, the chiding way in which he did it. "Idiot." He repeated. "If you only eat in the restaurant, you'll never learn to cook."

With a wave of Ji Shin's hand, a chunk of the wall beside him simply disintegrated, leaving behind a sizeable hole. "I'm not even giving you the treasure on the top floor because I'm so disappointed. I'll give you something of equal value that you need a lot more."

Looking out the hole, Gaius saw down to the ground, where he beheld a large stone cauldron, suspended over a fire. Before he could even respond, there was a twisting of space, and he was sitting on a rock before the cauldron. Ji Shin stood nearby, tapping a wooden spoon on the rim of the cauldron as he paced around it in circles.

"You are a bull-headed student. Not nearly as elegant as that man, but similar in temperament. Even so, you will never amount to anything. Want to know why?" Ji Shin's arms and neck stretched out, over the cauldron, until his brawny hands gripped Gaius' shoulders, and he looked him in the eye from less than a foot away. "Because you're on the thirtieth floor of another restaurant. You're a useful puppet, but you can't be more than that."

He pulled away. Gaius, once again finding himself paralyzed, simply nodded in response. Even that motion was slow and heavy, like swimming through a thick syrup.

"None of you can. You're waiters, you're chefs, you're servers, but you don't decide. None of you can decide anything. Fate has - kpo cphvi xcvixz vo gzvqdib ocz rjmgy ji cjgy."

Oh no, there it went again. Ji Shin's words degenerated into nonsense and white noise once more, and the man stealing Jin Muyi's face seemed to have no idea it was even happening. It was painful, in a way that Gaius lacked the words to explain, to have knowledge brushing up against the edges of his mind, yet still being denied it.

After a few minutes, the painful babbling finally came to a stop as Ji Shin's words once more shifted into comprehensible language. "So that concludes the explanation. The Heavens, my master, everything. Do you understand?"

Gaius looked on blearily, trying to conjure up the strength to speak. Before much progress could be made, the ground began to shake, and the heat of the fire beneath the cauldron skyrocketed.

The fire roared, brighter and brighter, and everything seemed to swirl and shake. A loud crack resounded all around the two, as reality began to fracture and the soup, smelling of everything and nothing, boiled over entirely. From the fissures in the air, holy white light poured out, and bolts of scintillating lightning lashed through the opening.

Ji Shin was blasted once, twice, thrice, stumbling with each impact as chunks of his body were blown apart. Burnt, pulverized brains spilled of from the side of his head, and one eyeball hung loosely from its optic nerve, not that it seemed to bother him much. "The lecture! Do you understand any of it yet!?" He shouted, as one leg, then the other was burnt away from under him.

"No, it's all fucking nonsense!" Gaius shouted, ducking behing the cauldron to avoid the lightning himself. Strangely though, none of it seemed to hit near him.

"Very well!" The monster shouted, voice slurred from a blood-filled throat. "Then let me give you a cruder message!"

The spilled ichor from Ji Shin's ruined body swirled through the air, dissipating into a red mist which shrouded both them and the pot. The lightning, try as it might, could not break through, its energy seeming to simply vanish upon collision with the blood. As each bolt vanished, some amount of mist seemed to as well, proportionate with the size of the bolt.

Concentrating into thin, dense tendrils, the mist lashed out, striking at the fissures in reality and sealing them away. Little by little, the cracks closed as if they were being welded shut, the blood quickly expending itself to do so. Ji Shin's body began to disintegrate, shredding itself down into bloody particules to reinforce the cloud.

Gaius gaped in shock. This wasn't supposed to be possible, not under the jurisdiction of this world at least. Whatever Ji Shin was doing, it wasn't just clashing against the power of Heaven but directly counteracting it. An interaction of mutual annihilation. But that would require…

"An equal and opposite force?" Gaius said quietly. It should have been drowned out by the crashing thunder, yet his words seemed to equo throughout the chamber.

"There is so much you do not know!" Ji Shin shouted, fading away into the mist entirely. "Seek strength, and the rest will follow!"

The fire beneath the cauldron exploded into a blaze three times its previous size. The soup did not boil over so much as burst like a geyser and wash over Gaius. In the instant before the impact, though, something clearly formed before his eyes.

A piece of onion here, a clump of spices there. A noodle here, a chunk of stringy beef there. The ingredients of the soup congregated together into lines and blocks. More characters.

解放

And then it all went black.

—-

Gaius' eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he registered was a sharp, stinging pain. Scylla loomed over him, body awash in holy light as she enveloped him in a soothing numbness.

"They tied me up at the bottom of that forsaken restaurant. Half a dozen Core-level beasts showed up out of nowhere to restrain me." She said sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, I should have been there to protect you. The next time I see that demon, I'll kill him myself!"

Ever so slowly, The Seeker raised his hands, only to find them covered in a mosaic of burns. His arms told the same story: a haphazard smattering of scalding wounds all over the place. Why hadn't he put the Aegis up in time? Perhaps Ji Shin had stopped him somehow.

The remaining pieces of his armor, sad and half-melted as they were, were gone entirely, shredded apart and thrown this way and that. The leather beneath had fared a bit better, though a few small chunks seemed to have fused to his skin entirely, and were gruesomely detaching under the influence of Scylla's healing spell.

"This won't fix the damage entirely, it will just ease the worst of it. That's all I can do without good regents." Scylla muttered. "We'll just have to hope the rest heals without an infection."

"I'm strong, buddy. You know that." Gaius rasped out, smiling fondly up at his companion.

"Not compared to this place." She growled bitterly, looking away. "We're both just playthings, kept alive for their own purposes. It wounds my pride."

"All men are playthings. We're just being forced to confront it." Gaius chuckled; he was grateful for the conversation, which distracted him from his vulnerable current state. He turned his head to the side to find the restaurant completely gone. All that remained was an entirely empty chamber, with the exit right beside him.

"And you're okay with that!?" The carp scoffed.

"No. Never."

—-

I do have to admit, I'm growing a little disillusioned with trying to make every floor feel meaningful, and thus I've started making the unimportant ones a bit briefer. In the next Cloud Cave installment, I'm gonna take up a somewhat faster pace so that I can actually get through this whole thing. The original version of floor 29 that I had planned, in particular, would have been miserable both to write and to read. Just a gauntlet of several fights in a row, fights with no real stakes because the enemies are just monsters, after which it would get into Gaius' near-breakdown. I ended up scrapping all of those fights because they were crap.

The exchange with Gong Chunhua, where Gaius tries to make an undead slave regain her humanity through a combination of manipulation and boorish shock value, is one I was looking forward to for a while. His philosophy may be a selfish one in the way it sustains himself, but Gaius does care about others. He respects all free will, though he will ultimately prioritize his own free will. It makes him happy when he sees people becoming their best selves, grasping for freedom and understanding in a cruel world.
 
Gaius Antonius 84 - Unbinding
Gaius Antonius 84 - Unbinding​

Having grown up in an extremely landlocked region, travel by sea was an immense novelty to Hong Xuan Fang Tai. The former scion may not have been able to see the ocean in all of its purported beauty, but the intense scent of the salty air and the rhythmic bobbing of the ship was captivating in its own right.

Five days of travel by sea, even through a Sea Lane, communicated with vivid clarity the weakness of the Third Sea, and the power which dwelled in all other places. The unmistakable signatures of multiple Nascent Souls could be detected, lurking within mere tens of miles of one another near the edges of the Lane. The existence of such titans was a casual thing in the boundless ocean, hinting at the far greater beings which lived farther from the shore.

The destination: a small island a few hundred miles off the west coast of the Virtuous Flipper. This landmass had a simple name: Signal Island. Thus named for the constant, easily felt qi signature it gave off, like some kind of light or beacon that had been left permanently on. This, Fang Tai's visions had told him, was the key, the place he needed to go in order to put a stop to the future he had glimpsed.

The vessel on which he was riding, a relatively simple thing made for short-distance travel rather than real cross-Sea voyages(very few of those happened anymore), slowed to a stop as the island came into focus to the South of their position. At the helmsman's command, the wind stilled to a halt, no longer pulling at the sails and allowing the boat to slow.

Heavy, leisurely footsteps announced the approach of the ship's captain, a portly, hairy man in the Great Circle of Foundation. A speck, compared to the things lurking in the deep water, but boundaries were boundaries, so anyone could sail a boat within the Sea Lanes. "That'd be it, right over there - Signal Island." He noted in a gruff voice, pointing it out before remembering he was talking to a blind man and lowering his hand.

"Mm, and everything is ready to get me there?" Fang Tai asked, hands clenching on the wooden railing in front of him.

"Aye. The starboard catapult is ready to go when you are." The captain confirmed, before sighing and leaning over the railing himself. "But I really can't fathom what you'd come all this way for. I've seen the signature meself, it doesn't belong to anything. Just a phantom."

"I've been chasing phantoms for a while now, Captain." Fang Tai said with a small smirk, before turning and bowing in gratitude. "I really must thank you for making this trip on such short notice. The pay can't have been much for an Expert."

"Ah, it's nothing, the crew and I were already headed out in this direction." The captain said, leading his charge to his destination.

An unusual contraption of silver and cobalt with jade inlays, the "catapult", as the crewmen called it, was a device for shunting matter through compressed space, so as to travel outside of a Sea Lane without touching the water. The central structure was a sort of bowl in which the cargo was placed, with a pair of flat, array-inscribed rods pointing outward. The left rod "pushed" matter, and the right rod "pulled" it. The whole thing was on a swiveling mechanism, allowing it to be aimed. The shape made Fang Tai imagine a giant tuning fork affixed to a telescope stand.

This particular catapult was small, only transporting an object up to twenty miles; thankfully, Signal Island was only a few miles outside the Lane. When he'd asked the crew's Arraysmith how the thing worked, he'd gotten a worryingly nonchalant shrug. As the smith had said, it was a design you couldn't hope to understand if you weren't in Core Formation, and very well-studied at that, but Arraysmiths on ships learned to construct it through simple memorization. No safer method of crossing outside a Sea Lane had yet been discovered, save for simply flying high enough that nothing in the water would take notice of you.

Fang Tai hopped inside, sitting down inside the metal bowl and feeling the tingle of an active array. Nearby, the Arraysmith began channeling qi into the catapult, building up to its launch.

The captain patted the underside of the catapult, producing a sonorous clunk clunk. "We'll circle back around in a week. I hope your business is settled by then."

Fang Tai breathed deeply in and out, trying to relieve some of his nervous tension. "It should be; it's a small island, after all. I'll find what I'm looking for quickly."

The catapult began to hum, and that hum soo became a whine, as its energy was focused and directed. The folding of space worked absolute chaos on Fang Tai's hearing, as vibrations from all around were scrambled and thrown about - he couldn't imagine how strange it looked. Finally, with something between a pop and a whistle, he was flung.

—-

Signal Island was, in fact, quite small. A few miles across, barely enough land to build a village and just enough farmland to sustain its inhabitants. Vegetation grew here and there, and small rodents scampered about. The shoreline cave way to gently rolling hills somewhere between sand and dirt, and beyond that, stone. At the center stood the only thing of import.

An unusual creation of stone and bronze, twenty feet tall, sat in the center of the island, inscribed with arrays which gave off a gentle glow. From the shape(a broad central structure topped by a thinner spire) one might suspect it to be a building, but there were no doors or points of entry of any kind.

Fang Tai pressed his palm to the mysterious object and felt a surprising amount of warmth, in excess of one hundred degrees. There was energy here, alright, but the exact nature of it was beyond his senses. Furthermore, it didn't seem to be going anywhere at all, simply sending out a signal in all directions for thousands of miles.

Fang Tai pulled his hand away, raising his voice above the quiet hum of the machine. "At the beacon in the sea, Hong Xuan Fang Tai meets an old man hewn into wood, and is changed into something greater. Is there an old man here?"

"Indeed there is."

The ground rumbled for a moment, and then it arose; a mass of squirming, shifting roots. They soon merged together, forming a sturdy tree, perhaps three times the size of a man. On a large knot in the middle of the trunk, features emerged, until the face of an old, bearded man could be made out in the wrinkled bark.

"I am the Well-Wisher, the one who sprouts in places of power!" It announced with a booming, grandiose voice. "You have done well to find me here, young one. Perhaps this was a fated meeting."

"It was." Fang Tai replied, taken aback but not especially fazed - when following a prophetic dream, it was best to go in ready for the unexpected. "I… this event was foretold to me, among many other things. You have the power to change people, right?"

"That I do." Said the ent. "But not all are worthy. I have appeared to many, but I have yet to find a proper vessel." It went quiet for a moment, prodding at Fang Tai with the edges of its awareness. "You are in Qi Condensation, which makes you a candidate. Only the malleable first Great Realm will do."

"I think we're going to have a wonderful partnership, Well-Wisher!" Fang Tai exclaimed, spreading his arms. "Administer your test!"

"My, you are a bold one!" The tree laughed. "Very well, I shall explain the rules…

——

When the ship sailed back into position, the crew set off a powerful audio signal in the direction of the island to alert Fang Tai. Thirty minutes later, the catapult pulled in something else.

Hunched over and bloated, his braid undone into a wild mess, and his muscles twitching strangely, Fang Tai already looked in poor health. What cemented it, though, was the five foot tall tree growing out of his back, forcing him to stoop in order to walk at all.

"By all the spirits of the sea!" The captain exclaimed, horrified. "What's happened to ya, boy!?"

"Exactly… what I came here for." Fang Tai rasped, forcing himself to his feet and, with some difficult, climbing out of the catapult. "Don't worry, I don't need help. I'm not ill."

"Shit, I'll take your word for it…" The old sailor sighed wearily, keeping a considerable distance. "The recklessness of youth, it boggles me mind…" he muttered, trundling off to shout at whomever he caught doing an imperfect job first. For such a rough and tumble man, the captain was surprisingly fussy - Fang Tai supposed one needed to be, when at sea.

After hauling himself back to the small quarters that had been loaned to him, the former scion collapsed onto his hands and knees, beads of sweat falling from his face to stain the hard wood below him. Walking was still a challenge, but it was getting easier. For the first two days he hadn't been able to stand at all, and it was only on the fourth that he could get anywhere without falling over. His body was adjusting to being the Well-Wisher's vessel at a fairly good pace, or so it had said.

I still can't believe that was the secret." Fang Tai mumbled breathlessly. The squirming within his flesh as the roots spread was, distressingly, less painful than it should have been.

"Indeed." Spoke the face of the old man, which now grew from the trunk on his back. "A Qi Condensation cannot get through my field with a protective layer up. Only the truly fearless and ambitious can receive the blessing I carry."

Fang Tai laughed, for as unpleasant as this ordeal was, it was a sign that his fate was trending upward for once. "Don't face the test as a battle, but as an embrace, I believe you said?"

"Indeed. You willingly tore yourself open to reach me, which no other has done. They all think they, pathetic Qi Condensation insects, can conquer nature and reality." The tree practically spat the last few words, so contemptuous was the idea to him. "Accepting your limits and overcoming them requires true sacrifice. If you'd let yourself be broken and still failed to reach me, I would have left you to die."

"You're an honest man. Tree. Spirit. You're honest." Fang Tai replied, too exhausted to be unsettled by those words. "I like honest people."

——

After getting back onto land, Fang Tai was quickly picked up by a retinue of sorts, a large group dispatched by the Time Shatter Sect to help Fang Tai complete his difficult journey. Indeed, their help had already been indispensable in warding off any number of nuisances that would have slowed a lone traveler down, be they bandits, spirit beasts or simply toll roads he lacked the funds to pay for. He was still incensed about those prices - the war had driven the cost of everything up, even things which could not, by definition, run out.

All of these bodyguards belonged to the same organization as Shi Jiang and Chen Jinhua, the ones who had used him for experiments and, in doing so, given him a second chance at life. This organization, unofficially coined the Paradox Task Force by its members, had a rather impressive collection of combatants. Nevertheless, Shi Jiang overshadowed the rest by a wide enough margin that he was considered the face of the organization, even moreso than its actual director, Elder Wufei.

Technically, their official partnership was already over. Fang Tai had told the Task Force everything he had foreseen and let them do all the tests they wanted, and in exchange they had freed him from his curse. But Chen Jinhua was a more generous person than she first seemed. Fang Tai had given them far greater insights than had been anticipated; not just into Gaius Antonius and the Kings, but in the fields of chemistry and spiritual biology as well. And so, Fang Tai was given one final gift: an escort.

Alongside the blind seer walked several Experts from the Task Force, all of them formidable fighters. Behind each Expert trailed a team of handpicked subordinates, further bolstering their numbers to forty in all. At the head of it all was Dai Xiaohui, master of the Mind-Flaying Glaive. Tall in stature and commanding in bearing but unflattering in the face department(or so he had heard), she cut a distinctive figure, as she left her long hair completely unbound to fell where it may. This was, in fact, because Dai Xiaohui's hair was entirely prehensile, but she had a mean tendency to not tell people, so that they would get spooked when they later saw her using it to perform mundane tasks. To her back was latched the signature Glaive, the long blade wrapped in layers of thick cloth and covered in array slips to suppress its frightful powers.

Each of the Task Force's experts had trained for the possibility that they might have to go against a King. A few had ascended from the Twelfth Heavenstage themselves - veritable strategic weapons, more prized than ever by all factions in the modern era where welders of Dao Magic were becoming more and more common. Those who did not were still quite strong in their own right, and often employed Soul Arts or equipment designed to mitigate the damage caused by Dao Emanations.

However, for all of their preparation, only a scant few could be said to really be the equal of a King; the rest simply pursued the already difficult goal of 'survive the attention of an angered Dao Tyrant and return to home base alive.' While Shi Jiang was the most major outlier, Dai Xiaohui was arguably number two, when going by raw power. Adequate protection against any Experts who might, for any reason, impede Fang Tai's journey.

"Is it true?" A voice cut through the mental noise, piercing through to finally gain Fang Tai's attention.

"Hm?" Fang Tai cleared his throat, then nervously whet his lips. One downside of a lack of sight was an inability to know what kind of face people were making at him. "Er, Is what?"

"Is it true that Golden Devil men are into buggery?" The voice asked in an amused tone. Fang Tai put that voice to a name slower than he should have - Big Chen, not to be confused with Little Chen, the other Task Force member of the same name. Ironically, it was Big Chen who had the higher pitched voice between the two, so he mixed them up sometimes. "I mean, I cast no judgment. I've known some fine men in my time who were cutsleeves. But people keep telling me that Devils have an, er, unusually strong predilection toward such things."

Fang Tai wanted to scoff, but to do so in front of a Senior, especially once performing an indebted favor, would be pointlessly rude. He used to be rude, but he just didn't have the energy to be audacious these days.

Honestly, how did men like Big Chen get so old whilst maintaining the mental maturity of schoolchildren? No shame in indulging the man's curiosity, he supposed. "It's not more common, I think. They just think about it differently."

He could practically hear Big Chen's eyebrow raising. "Differently, you say? How so?"

"As far as they're concerned, it's fine to be with other men, unless you're, well…" Fang Tai grimaced, trying to find a way to put things that wouldn't be too crude. "To a Devil, it's normal by itself, but it's weakness to be the receiver. An old superstition, I guess."

"A bit ungrateful, isn't it?" Another man - Ashen Meadows, a Sword Artist and painter who Shi Jiang had said was very good at both - laughed. "You find a man kind enough to let you bugger him, and then you call him a sissy."

"I don't know, do I look like a Devil to you?" Fang Tai shrugged. "The Hong Xuan aren't Devils, just vassals to them. They're left to their own devices, as long as the taxes are paid."

The mention of Hong Xuan sent a pang of homesickness through Fang Tai's heart. Despite everything he had learned, some craven part of him wished to go home. To be with his friends and family again, to wait out the end in peace.

That was no longer an option. He could do nothing but defy; it was all he had left.

——

To hope that the journey would go unmolested was the height of folly - all great accomplishments are met with great hardships on the way. They would not be great otherwise.

In a dark forest in the middle of Great Drunkard land, they arrived. Peeling out of the darkness with eerie alacrity, a gang of interlopers made themselves known; the fact that they could have been attacked unprovoked was not lost on anyone in Shi Jiang's group. Dozens of the strangers emerged onto the dirt trail they'd been following, and the rustling in the treetops as more of them positioned themselves closer told of quite a few more.

"That's enough!" Said an old man at the front of the group. "Halt, we must speak with you."

The most interesting factor, though, was their manner of dress. The way the wind caught their clothes told a story of fur wrappings, clothes hewn of simple, rough-spun cloth, and armor that smelled sharply of iron, rather than the more mixed scent of steel. Between that and the odd dialect they spoke, Fang Tai assumed that this was a technologically primitive group, perhaps some secluded tribe. Not exactly the type of people to attack a group with modern equipment without a very good reason.

"Apologies for the interruption, but we cannot let you get through. Please comply, and there won't be any trouble." Said one of their number, a lanky man crouching atop a tree branch.

Fang Tai sent out a heavy qi pulse - no need to be subtle at a time like this. One main group stood blocking the road, with many others lurking in trees all around. These guys were stealthy, if nothing else. He kept his mouth shut: he wouldn't have any idea what to say for himself at a time like this. Maybe someone else could negotiate their group out of this.

"If you're here to rob us, I assure you it won't be worth the effort." Dai Xiaohui said with open hostility, her hair fanning out like the tail feathers of an exotic bird. "You have a chance to get out with your lives intact."

"Robbery?" One of them called out. "We're not here for your treasures, we're here to do away with the one bearing the Well-Wisher."

The old man in front, possibly the leader, called out to them in a raspy voice. "We are the Order of The Axe. The accursed Well-Wisher shall not take root. No matter your reasons, the dire consequences cannot be accepted. Please leave that man with us."

Several Experts, a few dozen Juniors, all scattered around the woods. What in the world would an entire group like this want To stop Fang Tai's ascension?

"Unbelievable! They found me again!?" The Well-Wisher exclaimed in disbelief. "Why are they so persistent?"

"You know these guys?" Fang Tai asked, getting behind Dai Xiaohui and backing up a few steps.

The ent scowled bitterly. "I am afraid so. As you've heard, they call themselves the Order of The Axe. A bunch of pathetic upstarts who refuse to let me do my duty, even though they are indebted to me."

The old man continued unabated. "I ask you again, please listen! The Well-Wisher's blessing is something that should not walk the earth; though it exists to destroy a scourge, it is a scourge in and of itself."

As the group's attention was pulled to the front, one of them crept up from behind. Drawing a strangely curved dagger, a shadow peeled off from the surrounding darkness, lunging for Fang Tai-

Only to be stopped dead in its tracks by the mighty squelch of a warhammer to the face. Big Chen's hefty weapon, swung with mechanical accuracy, turned the hidden assailant's head to pulp. Fang Tai jumped a few feet, startled so badly he felt he might leap out of his skin.

"You stupid little fuck." Big Chen scoffed, resting his hammer on his shoulder. "A basic trick like that won't work on us."

"Form up!" Dai Xiaohui commanded. "Circular formation!"

In command, the Task Force turned their backs to one another and grouped up into an outward-facing circle, immune to any ambushes. Fang Tai tried to join in, only to be shoved inside of the circle by Big Chen.

"You're a VIP, buddy. That, and you aren't in any shape to fight." The Expert explained over his shoulder. "Just leave this to us."

It seemed they had a much longer and harder trip ahead of them than expected.

——

They'd found a cave, somehow. A stroke of luck, or perhaps the hand of fate. Either way, the Task Force stood strong, if not whole. Nearly a third of their number had been lost to the Order of The Axe's ambushes already, and the destination lay farther from them still. Many of the survivors has also sustained injuries, such was the nature of warfare.

Fang Tai ran his thumb over the piece of jerky in his hand, and found he didn't have enough appetite to eat any at all. He sighed and hung his head. "I'm sorry. I truly am."

The forty soldiers Fang Tai had been escorted out of Time Shatter by, which had seemed so excessive at the time, now felt inadequate. Twenty eight still lived, and he wondered how many more would die for him before this business was over with.

"It is what it is. We made a deal, and I follow through on my deals." Said Dai Xiaohui with a shrug. She stared into the wall, not making contact with anyone. "Violence happens sometimes. Don't apologize for being victimized."

"I'm no victim." Fang Tai mumbled, hugging his knees. "I sought out a legend, and didn't think about the consequences. I've taken advantage of your generosity."

"Don't worry about it, man." Dai Xiaohui commanded with a wry grin. "It's better for both of us if we hold a grudge on the people trying to kill us. You think too much."

If anyone had a dissenting opinion, they weren't about to voice it in front of this woman's commanding presence.

Small fires crackled, providing ambiance which broke through the oppressive quiet of this grim night. The roots digging through Fang Tai's flesh made it hard to sleep, but he eventually managed.

——

When Fang Tai arrived at the spot of his tribulation, he was all alone. This was not because his entire company was dead, thank goodness, but because the survivors had stayed behind to cover for him, blocking a narrow pass to let him through. It was shameful, he knew, to rely on other to such an extent; it seemed that every week, Fang Tai learned a new lesson in how weak he was, how unworthy he was of the revelations he had received.

In the past, when the stakes weren't so unbelievably high, he would have fought alongside those comrades, dying with honor in his heart and free of regrets. Now, all Fang Tai could do was hope desperately that some would make it out; if he succeeded here, he would have to make their sacrifices not be a waste.

"So this is the place?" The seer asked wearily, wiping the sweat from his brow. The heat, the feeling in the soil, the slightly dirty air, it was painfully familiar.

"Yes." Said the tree trunk over his shoulder. "This place has the ideal conditions in both climate and cosmological alignment. I picked it out long ago."

A volcano, Fang Tai supposed, was certainly an appropriately dramatic place for a tribulation. It was dormant for the time being, about twenty feet of solid rock between the magma and the surface within the caldera. Even so, life thrummed beneath the earth, like a heartbeat. The soil, burnt time and time again, was black - this much Fang Tai knew, even if he couldn't see it. Combine that with a humid environment, and you have the perfect place for life to sprout. indeed, patches of woods almost thick enough to call a jungle dotted the landscape.

"And the conflict will be over once I ascend?" Fang Tai asked, though he had heard the answer more than once already.

"Indeed." Answered the Well-Wisher. "The people who live at the foot of this volcano are bound by honor and magic to assist the one I have chosen."

"They sure don't act that way."

"A loophole - until you ascend, you are not my vessel. I should have been more diligent when that pact was written."

"Then let's do it now." Fang Tai declared, shrugging his pack off of his shoulders and setting it down to rummage through.

No matter how skilled he became at operating without eyesight, there were certain niches that no other sense, no matter how sharp, could provide. For example, it was only through careful, rote measurement that Fang Tai could be certain his protective charms were placed in the right geometric configuration. It was only through careful practice and the Well-Wisher's verbal assistance that his protective array was not skewed.

Just another thing the Devil had taken from him. He'd done it for no reason at all, just to satisfy his wounded ego. Gaius Antonius was so fragile that he couldn't protect his own sense of self without breaking him down. That alone proved Fang Tai right.

A perversion of order, a fool born to inherit a plan he couldn't even comprehend. It would be laughable if he weren't so dangerous.

He clenched his fist so hard it felt like his bones might shatter. "I will get past this. I will get past everything; I have something worth living for now, Gaius. For the sake of all of us, I will put out your flame."

The thunk thunk thunk of knives embedding themselves into Fang Tai's chest seemed deafening enough to shatter the sky. The seer toppled backwards, scattering his carefully prepared treasures this way and that and scuffing out parts of his binding arrays.

"I made it. I actually made it…" The voice came from atop the nearby hill, sailing through the humid air. There stood a warrior of the Order of the Axe - one had slipped past, it seemed.

Or perhaps they hadn't. Sending out a qi pulse far too late, Fang Tai realized this woman was crawling, legs dragging through the dirt behind them. Her arm came up, and Fang Tai pushed himself back with the last of his strength. Three more knives hit the ground where his chest had been.

Bad idea. Something in his chest had definitely been cut open when he moved just now. The flow of blood grew dramatically in scope, soaking through his tunic and pooling on the ground.

"Shit, that's all I had left?" the assassin muttered, approaching slowly. No more projectiles came. "Just die already; you've been fooled and there's no going back." She wasn't even crawling with both arms, just one. What kind of mental toughness let her carry on with her mission after so much damage.

Fang Tai tried to retort, but all that came out was hacking, blood-tinged coughs. The scent of ozone grew stronger, the water in the air more dense. Could he do it? Under these circumstances, while under attack? It was suicide.

"A poison to fight the poison. Madness to fight madness. Where does it end?" she sputtered, dragging herself forth relentlessly with her one good arm. She stabbed her dagger into the earth, dragging himself forward before stabbing it in again, as if she were using a tool to scale a sheer cliffside. Fang Tai, lying there as his lifeblood watered the thick black soil, could only listen as the assassin approached.

"I won't let the box open!" The woman snarled, a foamy mixture of blood and spittle dripping down her chin as she hauled herself onto Fang Tai. Above, grey clouds darkened to black. Not quite; the angle wasn't correct yet. "I will defend the honor and dignity of the Order of the Axe!"

Even if Fang Tai had eyes, they would not have met the frenzied glare his attacker carried, even as she raised her dagger to pierce Fang Tai's heart, for they would have been staring beyond him. They would have beheld the furious sky, the doom of death and rebirth churning far above. They would have seen the bright blue of Heaven's lightning flashing within, bringing clarity to his fading consciousness.

Roots emerged from Fang Tai's wounds, burrowing into the soil in preparation for the coming impact. It was a painful relief, like a broken bone being set back into place.

The sword of penitence fell, delivering cosmic wrath unto the blasphemer, the heretic, the demonic and the deviant. Heavenly lightning coursed through the body of a man utterly unguarded and unprepared to receive it, burning him from the inside. Fang Tai reached up and wrapped his arms and legs around the assassin, letting the lightning pass through her and into him. She spasmed violently and vomited blood, her many wounds rendering her unable to properly resist this attack. The disgusting scent of oxidized flesh overwhelmed Fang Tai's nose, but he held on despite the woman's desperate thrashing.

Taking Tribulation lightning directly instead of properly resisting it was a foolhardy thing, even with the other man soaking up a significant fraction of the energy in Fang Tai's stead. In a few moments, Fang Tai's final obstacle died, and without any qi circulation, his flesh lost the lively sturdiness of an Expert. The incoming bolts blew apart the body of Fang Tai's enemy, until nothing remained to shield him, and he was struck by the unmitigated force.

It didn't hurt that much, for he was already growing numb. He felt the essence of himself diffusing,becoming less distinct. Perception grew hazier and hazier in the following minutes. Fang Tai felt himself growing and stiffening, becoming slower in thought and duller in awareness. He became one with the ground, and the pain of the lightning faded more and more, until it stopped entirely.

Scoured but alive, Hong Xuan Fang Tai slipped into a cold, dark and fitful dream.

——

If you were to visit the Great Drunkard Sect, you might hear of a mountain of fire, a temperamental, all-hating goblet filled with the bubbling essence of the inner earth. Its name was Death-Spewer, and it was the destroyer of any city or settlement built in its vicinity. This had been tested: any permanent buildings constructed around Death-Spewer were soon destroyed by an eruption, but the simple, nomadic tribe who lived nearby were never harmed. Thus, the Great Drunkard Sect had never bothered to officially bring the Death-Spewer worshippers into the fold, despite the richness of their soil and the mineral wealth beneath their land, and instead made vassals of the tribesmen.

But those simple folk, normally kind and accepting, would not let you in if you tried to see the volcano for yourself. Recently, things had changed, and the land around Death-Spewer was now ravaged by unrelenting storms every night, driving the primitives into caves and other secluded places. Amidst all that destruction sat a towering tree, thick of root and trunk. Lightning flashed again and again, flowing down its bare branches and into the primary mass. Blackened by the heat though it was, the wood did not catch fire despite the onslaught, though any who drew near would feel an intense heat which radiated from within.

Every day the story was the same; when the sun rose, the dark clouds parted and a thick canopy of leaves grew upon the tree in minutes. The bright sunlight filled the tree with strength, revivifying it and mending the wounds of its previous ordeal. After the sunset, the clouds formed once more and the storm assailed the tree, quenching its roots with torrential rain, enough to kill less hardy plants even without the lightning.

Indeed, that had in fact happened; what had once been a verdant forest was now a strange marsh, empty of complex life aside from its single mighty inhabitant. Beaten down by this constant punishment, all other plantlife had long since died out, and so the tree's roots spread deep and wide into the rich black soil. With each passing year the tree grew larger, and the heat within more intense, until a dim orange light began to throb from the center of its trunk like a heartbeat.

The worshippers of that fell mountain of fire were held to but one commandment: bring more stones. Each day, they dug into the caldera, extracting Fire-aspected spirit stones which were then buried all around the great tree. Such were the terms of an ancient pact made with the Well-Wisher in a time shortly after the life of the Demonic Soup Chef. Their masters, the Great Drunkard Sect, did not interfere in this business, for such things mattered little so long as tithes and taxes were paid.

As such, Death-Spewer's servants had grown much poorer in the past six decades, their wealth extracted by two different masters without much left for themselves, despite the abundant resources of their territory. They were, at least, granted succor by the tree's divine fruits, each one a precious gift endowed with fire and lightning. They resembled plums, vaguely, with a firm outer layer but soft flesh. They were of a pale color, with green coloration around the part closest to the stem, making them resemble some bulbous eyeball.

Eating of these fruits, the Elders of the tribe grew strong; strong enough to be of great use in the ongoing war against the cannibals. Strong enough that the Drunkards turned a blind eye to the ongoing ritual.

—-

"Long ago, pillagers arrived on wings of gold, to extinguish the life of a great beast and its children. The Turtle Emperor did not want to fight, and yet he was assaulted, scarred by their rapacious conquest."

Bright blue flashed across the tree's interior as a retaliatory bolt of lightning struck the tree. The sparks spread throughout the plant, dispersing their energy, before rushing inward. At the center sat a sac of amber, which squirmed as the power of heaven was fed into it. Within, surrounded by the primordial fluids of the womb, was a half-built body.

A mostly-complete skull shrouded a brain, with bits of flesh and skin beginning to sprout in small chunks. Below the skull hung the dense bundle of nerves that formed the spinal cord, vertebra encasing the upper half. From the spine, nerves flared out in all directions, trailing off like bits of thread. Collarbones jutted out proudly like the gleaming pauldrons of a mighty general, one of them capped off by the ball joint of a shoulder. Over half of the ribs had also taken shape, protecting the mush within which would soon become distinct organs.

Deconstruction followed by construction, performed in the most tender and meticulous way possible. Granted to a champion who the Well-Wisher knew could handle it.

"They were defeated, with great difficulty, the remnants beset with curses which ensured they would not rise up once again. This world was far reduced, but with a distant hope of recovery. Conditions gradually improved as our world entered a state of brumation, with the World Fusion Cultivators acting as guardians of the natural order."

Once more the tree was struck, an automatic response to the sharing of forbidden knowledge which it deliberately triggered. The few tendrils of muscle that had managed to sprout thus far squirmed in delightful agony, swelling and lengthening ever so slightly. The yawning hole in the side of the skull shrunk the tiniest bit as new marrow bubbled forth. The harsh blue light soon faded once more, though, and the sac grew dormant once more.

A scant few million cell divisions with each strike; an agonizingly slow rebirth. But it was worth it, anything was, to stop what was coming.

"But as you know, their wickedness is immortal."

BOOM

"The selfish greed of what were once the Fifth Sea's shock troopers, eternally assured in their superiority, has changed their mission. The Iron Pillar, created to outmaneuver the invaders, has become a tool of game hunting. Now, the Devils resurge, wielding the wicked power of the Chef."

BOOM

"The Demonic Soup Chef, consumer of one of the few remaining Turtle Children. Mighty as he was, he rewrote the fabric of fate with his actions, setting forth a new path."

BOOM

"The Single Pillar Path, the Path of Kingship, is a path which leads to Armageddon. The Kings, one and all, are the embryonic form of the ultimate destroyer."

BOOM

None of this was new. This story, and many others, had been shared with Hong Xuan Fang Tai over and over. Eldritch secrets, forbidden to humanity, were hammered into his mind over and over. There could be no chance he would forget it through the haze of pain.

What went unsaid was the missing piece. Of the region's Kings, two were the most likely to bring forth the end. Devils both, of course. They had to die; them and their Clan, who threatened the future of this world and beyond.

The telling of the story ceased for the time being; even such a mastercrafter conduit as this could only take so much lightning in one day. A new, softer light glowed from below, as the tree's roots took in the power of the spirit stones buried amongst them, drip-feeding the energy into the slumbering chosen one. Instead, the voice of the Well-Wisher took on a soothing tone.

"You are so very brave. We are well past halfway done, child." They crooned. "You will be the first of your kind, a new breed of warrior. Already, you surge with potency."

The shoulder joint rotated, pointing up with the little nub of bone that would eventually become a humerus. The skull, too, imperceptibly tilted upward.

"Do not be impatient, young one. I promise, one day you shall be complete, and then you shall walk the earth and sky once more, perfect and Unbound."

——

I figured I'd give a little update on what Fang Tai's been up to in the time since he had his procedure done. I considered making this bit of storytelling an entire arc, but decided I could get it all across with a series of vignettes instead. This is gonna get like two likes anyway, so no point writing thirty thousand words nobody cares about. The resulting product feels a little bit awkward, but at least it gets across all of the imagery I was hoping to include.

The Well-Wisher and the Unbound is a bit of worldbuilding I've been turning over in my head like a rotisserie chicken for a while now, but thankfully Fang Tai won't be hatching until turn 17, so I won't have to cram him into a point in the timeline that's already crowded. I do plan to bring in Dai Xiaohui again sooner than that though; she's not as important of a character as Shi Jiang, but I feel bad for sidelining the story arc that would have been her time to shine. I'll have to figure out something to do with her, since I already came up with so much information on her.

Honestly, I should spend more time refining my in-progress ideas than thinking up new ones - I have so many thoughts that will probably never go on the page.
 
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Gaius Antonius 85 - Unsteady Progress
Gaius Antonius 85 - Unsteady Progress​

Things were never easy in the Qiguai Realm. Even the most fortuitous of encounters required great struggle to pry forth its bounties, and many struggles did not give out rewards commensurate with the danger. In this place, where pockets of space from across the world converged, all manner of anomalies were constantly being born.

Case in point, a bunker built into a mountaintop, filled with wood and iron puppet soldiers deprived of all purpose. Such a thing is awfully prevalent in the Qiguai realm, a dangerous thing stripped of context, falling through the cracks and ending up there.

The whip-blade lashed again and again, ripping through the bodies of the puppets. Balthazar tore deep into their chests, removed their limbs, wrapped them up and slammed them into one another. Very little of it out a soldier down for good. Though nothing special in regards to speed and power, these puppets carried an admirable amount of resilience. All Balthazar could do was slowly wear them down.

The Centurion panted, hard and heavy, parrying aside the bladed arm of a puppet and kicking it away. His boots scuffed against the smooth dark stone floor as he slowly backed away, swiveling his head to keep an eye out for flanking maneuvers.

On the other side of the bunker her spotted Mara, bringing down one soldier after another with ruthless efficiency. She smashed one puppet's head in with the side of her heavy shield, then pushed past it to impale the one behind it. Said puppet didn't stop moving, and so she skewered it several more times until it fell, motionless. As expected, her style was more suited to bringing down such resilient targets than Balthazar's, which was one of fines and precision.

Deeper in, Nikolas took on something more formidable than these simple automatons. A fifteen foot metal beast resembling a spider, it lunged at him with a dozen legs, trying to skewer him again and again in a torrent of metal. Nikolas struck back in turn with his huge blades, carving deep gouges into its armor and massing the much larger enemy blow for blow. He didn't take a single step back, that dependable wall of a man.

"Damn, I can't let you both outdo me like this!" Balthazar chuckled, drawing forth a small jade jar. His whip lashed out, severing the thin leg of a nearby puppet and sending it sprawling, where it caused two others to trip. "Formation Mu!"

At Balthazar's command, the whip crossed over itself again and again, drawing a pattern in the air before him; a simple channeling array. Popping out the cork on the jar in his other hand, he scattered a fine powder of silver dust and beetle carapace, prompting his whip to light up in a brilliant blue. Balthazar jumped and aimed the array downward, and a thick, unbearably cold mist streamed out, blanketing the area below him and freezing the automaton soldiers in place.

The Centurion landed, and behind him, the loud crashing of Nikolas' blades came to an end. He turned to behold inevitability; the spider hacked and smashed to pieces, and the giant looking only a little bit worse for wear. The grizzly work done, Nikolas let his swords clatter to the ground, futility reaching for a spot near the middle of his back.

"Hrm… this is a bit…" Nikolas muttered, fumbling against his own bulk. He grasped awkwardly at the spike embedded in his flesh - the tip of one of the spider's legs, but lacked the leverage to make any progress. "Pardon me, would you mind-"

"I've got you." Mara said miserably, trudging over to her comrade and planting a foot on his backside. With one good pull, she extracted the blade from Nikolas' back, causing him to groan in both pain and relief. He fell to his knees gasping as Mara tossed the leg aside, threw down her shield and spear and began looking around the bunker.

"Four months and still hardly anything." Nikolas grimaced, managing to drag himself upright and sit down on a mound of rubble. "Just some minor trinkets and a few herbs."

He paused for a moment, seemingly second-guessing his own objectively correct statement. "Still faster progress than on the outside though." He concluded with a shrug.

Balthazar rolled his eyes and re-fastened the cork on his jar. Enough left for three more uses of Formation Mu, he idly noted, before placing it in a bandolier with a dozen other small jars.

Something in between a Mekanikos and a frontline soldier, fighters like Balthazar were called 'battlesmiths' by some. Or 'dropouts', if you were to ask a real Mekanikos. By using a variety of methods to create arrays on the fly in battle, they could fill a wide variety of niches. While their hasty creations didn't have as much efficiency and power as more meticulously crafted arrays, it meant they were more adaptable.

"You're allowed to complain, Nikolas. If shit sucks you can just say it sucks." He remarked.

"You do enough complaining for all of us." Nikolas shot back, rubbing as his wound. "Should probably must some medicine on this…"

A telltale rattling caught the pair's attention, as Mara fiddled with a compartment in the corner of the bunker. "I found a hidden compartment!" She called out, keeping her eyes on her work. After a minute or so, she managed to pop the latch open, folding up a section of the floor and reaching inside.

"What have we got this time?" Balthazar asked, trying to find the strength to lift his weary and battered hopes once again.

"Uh, something." Came Mara's voice, muffled by the box she was now sticking her entire upper body into. "Let me just get a hold of this…"

With a gruesome sound of wrenching and sucking, the Centurion pulled forth a mass of fine, thin chains, each one no thicker than a piece of twine. It was hard to make out much detail, dripping as it was with some sort of thick, awful-smelling slime. "I'm gonna be honest, I can't tell what this is."

"Bag it up; we can run an analysis tonight." Called out Nikolas, who was now loudly and forcefully taking apart the spider's armor, looking for anything that could be of use in its innards.

Mara made a face. "I'm not putting this with my stuff. Not until I've cleaned it for like… five years."

—-

It was decided that camp would be made here; their elevated position made them impossible to ambush, and it was better to wait until they were fresh than to face unknown dangers while tired. This, at least, was a much needed bubble of normalcy and control in this otherwise unpredictable dimension.

Nikolas crossed his arms and glowered into the campfire. He'd learned as a boy to not turn his dirty looks upon other people - someone so large needed to take precautions in their body language or risk being seen as a threat by everyone around them. "The Legate's judgment has brought us this far, hasn't it? A Legion at half its maximum in less than a century isn't normal at all."

The fact that it's not normal is what worries me." Balthazar replied, tearing into a piece of salted fish.His face, normally quite pleasant to look at, seemed to grow a bit more sour with each passing day, as the pressure wore on them. "If the Brotherhood ever decides they want more out of life, our logistics will fall apart. And those Revenants; I'm telling you, they'll turn on us one day."

"They can't turn on us." Mara said "Without maintenance, they'll become mindless husks. And the Brotherhood like being slaves, it's a part of their whole… sub-culture, whatever you call it."

"They're not slaves!" Nikolas snapped, a great gust of air billowing from his nose. "They're proud, devoted ascetics. I know a few of them and they're wonderful."

"Devoted is right." Balthazar said with a smirk. "I can't imagine anyone else would want to go into one of those creepy things…" He shuddered a bit. "It's a step too far, is all I'm saying, and I hope that little experiment stops soon."

"You two are so stuck-up and arrogant!" Growled Nikolas. "The Kings are leading us into a better future, and all you have is complaints."

"Well, pardon me if I want to be more than an observer." Mara sighed. "If I'm going to protect my people, I have to go beyond just a Centurion. That means increasing my understanding, which means seeing things as they are."

"Not everyone is ready to settle, man." Balthazar chimed in. "I want to ascend, I want my own Legion."

"I'm not settling…" Nikolas sighed, hanging his head. "But unlike you two, I know to show the proper reverence. We have no right to question how the Legate does things."

The giant got up and stormed off, flinging down a seal which instantly unfolded into a tent. The standard issue Instant Shelter was a bit cramped, and yet again he'd forgotten to have a larger one made, but Nikolas could still fit if he curled up. He got inside immediately, no longer wishing to see his compatriots' faces, but sleep was elusive.

Spoiled kids, both of them. Sometimes Nikolas wished he had been born into peasantry and worked his way up from nothing, so that he could better appreciate his own standing in the world and not risk developing a big head. By Nikolas' own reckoning, there were at least three other Centurions in the Stargazers who deserved to enter the Qiguai Realm alongside their Legate more than he did.

Outside, Mara and Balthazar engaged in hushed, stilted conversation for a few minutes before Mara retired to sleep as well. In truth, none of them really wanted to talk to anyone right now. It was hard to believe that the three of them normally got along so well, and yet were falling into infighting after less than half a year.

Nikolas stared at the unmoving canvas of his tent and heard the popping sound of another Instant Shelter being deployed nearby. Maybe it was inevitable, given the circumstances. Something had happened to Gaius, causing him to disappear and leaving the trio to fend for themselves amidst this deadly place. With no way to leave early and no way of knowing what was going on, they had simply left to wander around on their own, worrying all the while that their future might have gone up in smoke.

It was terrifying, in a way that even the strongest enemy warrior could never be, to think that natural forces could simply swallow a man whole. Even a man as mighty as a King was no exception; Gaius very well could have been crushed to death or flung far away by a random bad interaction with that portal. The Empty King, a paragon who upheld the values of the Clan, one of the greatest talents of an entire generation of heroes, eaten by the world upon the whims of fate.

What were human beings, in the face of such mindless destruction? What was civilization, what was life?

What was Nikolas?

—-

Mara imagined that if the ruined stone building floating in the air before them had a name, it would be something like 'The Forlorn Ziggurat'. But, as far as she knew, it had no name at all; just a piece of architecture that somehow fell through space and time and ended up in this place.

It was large; big enough to fill perhaps a tenth of the Dawn Fortress' entire area. A sprawling network of worn-down rooms and stairwells and sprawling great halls, they were so old that their original purpose couldn't really be sussed out. Not only that, but the place had brought with it some kind of native vine which had grown to enshroud almost the entirety of the place. Entire areas were locked off by plantlife as hard as iron, requiring it to be torn away by hand.

They didn't even know if anything worthwhile could be found here; they had simply decided that they might as well check. And so here they all were, tearing out weeds, not using techniques to clear them faster on the off chance some awful beast would descend upon them from the shadows.

And worst of all, Balthazar was moving his mouth. Sounds were even coming out of it! "The next Trial really is key, or rather, the century after it. I've heard there's a plan brewing." He rambled distractedly as he worked.

"There's always a plan brewing, what's different about this one?" Mara asked, ripping out heaving handfuls of vines one after another.

Balthazar paused for a moment, perhaps wondering how many of his private channels he ought to disclose to his fellow Centurion - most people knew he had them - before settling on 'none'. "I don't know exactly, but it's a much bigger sort of plan. Just trust me; if it goes off, we might be untouched this time."

"Untouched? Seriously?"

Balthazar nodded. "Yeah, entirely. And if that does happen, then we'll continue to be unbothered, for a while at least. More time to build ourselves up and not be cut down. More time to refine those accursed Revenants; even if I hate them, they're a game-changer for the Legion's strength."

"More time for us to reach our full potential too." Mara said quietly. "That old, half-working Technique Palace-"

"That'll never get done and you know it."

"Shut up, yes it will, when we have the money for it!"

Balthazar laughed. "When we have the money for it, the Elders will spend it on something else. Some projects just never get done, and that's one of them."

"Ugh, whatever." Mara scoffed, getting back to work.

Balthazar continued talking, because that was what he always did, even if she didn't want to hear it. "My point is, another century where we aren't attacked and we can build up our strength is exactly what we need. By the time it's over, we'll be ready to take the region."

"You're too ambitious if you think that's enough time to take it." Mara replied, reaching shoulder-deep into the mass of green. "And there's no guarantee the other nations will remain distracted for that long."

"Oh, I think they will, I've heard some interesting rumors down the grapevine. They say the Legate's got a way to bolster the Blood Path nations, to ensure they stay in the fight."

Yet another rumor that sounded too good to be true. Gaius, who was famously quite reticent about the full scope of his abilities, was said to know all manner of secrets, but small and large, and there was no way to tell truth from lies. It didn't help that her sister was Gaius' biggest fan, and bought into all of them. If the Legate continued to get stronger and more ostentatious, Mara worried he would amass some kind of cult.

Hell, he already worked with one cult.

It wasn't right, Mara thought, to be so critical of the people who had given her so many opportunities. And yet it seemed at all times that, with the exception of a few close advisors, the King attracted those predisposed to adulation and blind obedience. To defend something, one needed to know what it needed to be defended from, and that meant knowing how it was weak.

In what ways were Mara weak? That, she knew intimately. She was impulsive when her pride was wounded. There was also a mismatch between where her talents lay and what she wanted to do. She was physically average for a Devil, which made her somewhat weak for a Quintia, who tended to be on the large size. Finally, her resentful tendencies worsened her ability to work together with her peers, should they do anything to provoke a grudge.

In what ways were the Clan weak? Easily pinpointed, in some cases; they were too confident in the superior strength of their blood, for one. They were overly enamored with the brilliance of the Grand Elder and blind to the fact that he too was just a flawed human. Some were sanctimonious, believing the hardship they had historically endured for so long gave them a virtue that all others lacked. Moreover, the series of successes that defined the current era relied upon all other nations not having an incentive to try and destroy them, either through a good opinion or being too busy with other matters.

All things needed to be understood this way, or everything would fall to ruin. Vigilance toward all potential threats, all avenues by which one might be attacked, and all blindspots one might have.

Wrapping her fingers around a pulsating, soft orb, Mara pulled hard. Her progress halted several times as she navigated her hand past one knotted tangle after another, but with steely steadiness, she finally wrenched the payload free. In her hands, she beheld some kind of oblong red organ, and watched as the vines before her rapidly began to wilt.

"Huh, so that's how you do it?" Balthazar remarked. "Damn, that's a lot faster than how we've been going so far."

But she didn't know the entirety of her Legate's weaknesses, because she didn't know the entirety of his strengths. Such secrecy and intrigue only undermined his own Legion's effectiveness, as far as she was concerned. Just what was Gaius Antonius plotting? How many secrets was he hiding from his own people, and for what reasons? She'd ask him face to face when next they met, on the outside. She knew he was alive - something so laughably simple wouldn't take that man's life.

—-

Move. Move. Move.

Matter was an illusion, as was distance. All things existed within and without.

Gaius opened his eyes, briefly emerging from his meditation to behold the space before him. It wasn't quite a void; more like a place in which everything folded inward. When he conjured a light, it curved around back toward him; if Gaius were to reach forward with a ten foot pole, he would touch his own back. Every direction, it all curved back onto him - a true bubble of spacetime, with no beginning or end.

No change, then.

With no reference whatsoever, it was difficult to tell how long he had been in this place, so Gaius had taken that matter into his own hands. By conjuring a construct designed to degrade over the course of 24 hours, he could count the days. He was four months in already, and he didn't want to consider what might happen if he was still here when his year in the Qiguai Realm was up. Did this even count as being in the Qiguai Realm?

And then there was the matter of the hallucination. It had been a while since there was one so vivid, or one so beautiful. A man festooned in colorful flowing robes and bearing an elegantly curving bow upon his back, the figure observed Gaius with curious amusement.

Every curve of that man's body, every strand of his hair, told a story of deadly, perfect strength. The hue of that man's eyes was something endlessly compassionate, yet not sympathetic in the slightest; the unconditional love one might extend to an animal, or to someone with whom one cannot communicate. There was no hate in those eyes; there simply could not be. "Come to me, my enemy." The figure said. His voice dripped smooth and heavy, like honey, like blood, like magma.

How could Gaius refuse? This was no mind control, no compulsive spell, it was merely the response anyone would have. "I can't move. I can't reach you, you should come closer instead. Closer." He muttered, reaching out fruitlessly, as if something as elementary as distance separated him from that divine figure.

The figure spread his arms in welcoming fashion, not responding at all. "Beloved adversary, come to me. I shall pierce your heart with the sweetest reverence."

"I told you I can't…" Gaius lamented, hanging his head and letting a curtain of golden hair fall between him and that unattainable temptation. It was gone, or it was never there, or it remained; all three were possible, and there was no difference, for no more words came from that direction either way.

Now, how to leave? A place like this was not hospitable to a human, that crude thing of three dimensions and simple matter. There was no leverage with which to move, though propulsion might be achieved with techniques… if only his qi would listen to him. It would not respond; without the spark of reality, the flame could not burn, and Gaius was not afforded such luxuries as concrete reality in this space.

In that case, the Dao would bring him deliverance, and reveal to Gaius the path out of this non-space. All it asked of him was that he Seek, with deeper devotion than ever before. The King had attempted this task many times already, but in this space, there was nothing he could do but keep trying. He breathed, though there was no air in this place. He waited, though there was no time. He looked farther and farther out, though there was no light with which to see.

He saw the sharp eyes of his slayer, and the arrow destined to lay him low. He saw two new shadows of the most supple, tender blackness stretching across the land. He felt a surging in his blood, higher and higher. He saw nine nails, forged of truly immutable matter, being pounded into his back.

He saw a man of silver conjuring a pinprick of unfathomable weight; a mouth which consumed infinitely. He saw wings of brass and gold, delivering them forth into the void. He saw a secret betrayal, an act of cruelty from which there could be no redemption, but could not remember what that act was. He saw his body, burned from within and entombed in a place outside time.

It did not matter how much time passed in that place, for it was a place without time, but let us say, for the sake of simplicity, that it was only a moment. In that moment, the world's axis seemed to shift, bringing forth new perspective, new control, new understanding. Imaginary matter bubbled up, like melting wax in reverse coating a small area at the base of Gaius' spine. It spread in thin strips, like rivers carving through the land, reinforcing flesh with strength of idea.

Pale and thin like a membrane around the eye of a toad, this substance nonetheless brought sensation to every patch of skin it covered. Gaius slipped deeper and deeper into a gorgeous, sensual synesthesia, and it all just seemed to make sense. There was a way out of this place; it was beyond his current abilities, but it existed, and he had ways of surpassing his limits. Now he just had to-

One more moment, and that heady feeling slipped from Gaius' fingers. The fragile epidermis, spread across less than half of his body, shattered into something finer than sand or even dust, leaving him exactly the same as he was before. The sensation of grasping such sublime enlightenment and losing it in the same breath might drive some mad, but Gaius was already mad. That feeling, that constant awareness of his own imperfection, was one which he lived with every day.

"Okay. Let's try it again…"

—-

I failed to get any writing done for so many days straight, but I finally got this little thing done. Ah well, not like this is gonna be a short turn anyway; the last two trial turns were quite meaty, and this one might be even moreso.

I wanted to give an update on how these characters are faring in the Qiguai Realm, as well as foreshadowing several different future updates.
 
Gaius Antonius & Amaranth Castellanos - Dear, Sweet Child
Gaius Antonius & Amaranth Castellanos - Dear, Sweet Child​

"Dear, sweet Aletheia. Why did you have to be born this year?"

The bundle in his arms was, objectively, not heavy in the slightest. Seven pounds of baby, wrapped in two pounds of cloth. It felt unthinkably weighty, like Gaius might lose his grip at any moment.

"A bad year for us, but a good year for the family." Axia sighed from the bed beside him, bringing a hot cup of tea to her lips. "An heir secured less than a decade before a Trial is something a lot of people would kill for. It means she'll be one hundred and ten years old by the time she becomes a target in one."

For all the calculating coldness her words sought to convey, her tone was despondent. His wife's argument was aimed to persuade herself, not him. As always, Axia was more dutiful and fastidious than Gaius - he thanked his guardian stars that she was the wife, not him. He could never be cut out for motherhood.

It could be worse, The Seeker thought to himself, trying to pick out whose features got passed down(a fruitless task; babies were so doughy, especially in their first week of life, that they all looked equally strange to him). He could have conceived the poor thing right before going into seclusion; he'd feel guilty for the rest of his days if he missed the birth of his firstborn. Hell, at least it wasn't one year out from the Trial; he could at least explain to his daughter why she wouldn't be seeing him for a year, or maybe never again.

"Maybe I'll snatch some heirloom off a Trial Hunter, for her tenth birthday present." Gaius cooed, poking Aletheia in the cheek, which made her scrunch up her face and wriggle in response.

Axia snorted at the thought, lacking any of her usual stoicism. "You're not putting foreign battle treasures in the hands of our baby. We've got more appropriate toys."

"Who said anything about a treasure?" Gaius shot back, turning to his wife with a lopsided smirk. "I was thinking maybe a heart."

Axia huffed and rolled her eyes, still smiling. Honestly, how many years had it been since the two of them shared such a simple, blissful moment, with no complicated emotions at all? "Not that either, small children are always putting things in their mouths. She would chew on the heart and stray to the Blood Path before she even started cultivating."

Gaius sighed playfully as he handed the little bundle back to her mother, who took her gratefully. "As usual, you are gravity itself, dear. Without you I would drift away." Axia, Gaius knew, was in bed by choice; as far as he could tell, it was for some kind of novelty. She could have walked within an hour of giving birth if she wanted to, and run within a day or two. Remaining in bed with her daughter was a sort of sweet sentimentality that Axia wasn't normally known for.

That thought distantly terrified Gaius - in what uncharacteristic ways would parenthood make him act? Hopefully it would never come to that.

He suppressed such anxieties with an ease born of suppressing far worse things. "I'll let you two sleep. Send for me if you need anything." Gaius said as he left the room, turning in the doorway to catch one last glimpse of the perfectly beautiful, perfectly human scene before him.

——

As the little girl grew, it became swiftly apparent that she saw things with greater clarity than others of her age. Most things came swiftly to Aletheia, and tutors were brought in and out year after year. Without something to work on, she became terribly restless, and did foolish things out of sheer curiosity. She pried the shells off of living insects with forks to see what their insides looked like, slipped away from her nanny to explore the sewers, and climbed onto the roof of the manor so she could look as far into the distance as possible.

The bright-eyed child learned quickly that there was more she could get away with than most children, thanks to the influence inherent to her position in society. She also learned soon after than excessive use of this power would get her scolded, and so it had to be used strategically. In the short term, this meant two desserts; one in the dining room and another in the kitchen straight from the cook. In the future, this prudence would no doubt be used to more ambitious ends.

Too smart, Gaius sometimes thought. Growing up far too fast. Already, she seemed to have an inherent sense for people, an ability to read their intention with surprising accuracy. As she shot up in size with each passing year, these moments of eerie clarity seemed to become more common.

And so, there was no way to address such precociousness than with discipline. Axia started the girl early, earlier than even most children of noble houses. Aletheia's hands learned how to grip the handle of a sword, how to form a fist, how to take a proper fighting stance. She learned the odd, numbing pain of a sword's vibrations, when it strikes metal at a bad angle and bounces off. She learned the sting of sweat pouring into her eyes when training on a hot summer's day. Perhaps it was harsh, but it was the only way either of her parents really knew.

One day, in the middle of her exercises, Aletheia suddenly stopped moving and turned to look at her father. She wiped a lock of sweat-slick hair off of her face, walked up to Gaius and looked into his eyes with an innocent yet piercing gaze.

"Auntie Marlissa said you're a King. What is a King, papa?" Aletheia asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity. She was beginning to take shape now, looking less like the indistinct doughy appearance of a toddler and taking on the sharp-featured visage more Quintia girls shared. The chin, the ears, the cheekbones, all of it closely resembled her mother, but her nose and eyes came from Gaius, as did her lanky physique.

"A King? A King is a whole lotta things, Sweetheart." Gaius answered, squatting down to look his daughter in the eye. A King rules over other people. He decides how society works, and tells his soldiers to fight other Kings' soldiers."

"Why are the soldiers fighting each other? Do they hate each other?" Aletheia asked m, tilting her head.

"Sometimes they hate each other." Gaius shrugged. "But sometimes they don't. Most people are mostly the same as each other. They fight who their King tells them to fight, because that's how society works."

The little girl thought on that long and hard, and the gears turning in her head moved around the sort of child-logic that Gaius could no longer comprehend. "Then why don't they fight the Kings?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Fight the Kings? Why would they do that?"

"These soldiers are the same. They're only fighting because the Kings tell them to." She explained, looking not at her father but right through him, as if the object of her curiosity were standing behind Gaius. "But their Kings are making them fight each other, even though they're the same. Shouldn't they work together and fight the Kings ?"

Gaius chuckled, only to meet his daughter's eyes and find that she was completely serious. The laughter died in his throat, and he began searching for words that Aletheia could understand.

Gaius conjured two figures in his hand. The first was a common Legionnaire in plain, unadorned lamellar. The second was a King, dressed in fine robes and glittering jewelry. "Because Kings are stronger than soldiers. The people who rule, rule because they can defeat their subjects." As he spoke, the King grew larger and larger until it was the size of a real person, while the soldier remained a few inches tall. "Even a thousand soldiers fighting together couldn't defeat a King."

"But why?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

Gaius made a puzzled expression. "Because sweetie, if the King isn't strong enough, he loses to someone else who wants to be King instead."

"But if it will always be like that, then why do we fight?" Aletheia said after a moment of consideration. "If all Kings rule the same way, what are they making the soldiers fight over?"

"Ideals." Gaius said with a wistful smile.

"What are ideals?"

Gaius ruffled Aletheia's hair fondly, then spoke. "Ideals are the things you get out of bed for, even when you're sleepy and don't want to wake up yet. Ideals are the things that make you keep training after you get tired, even if no one else is making you do it. An ideal is something you believe in so much, you'll die for it."

"So a King is someone who makes other people die for the King's ideals, not their own?"

Gaius nodded proudly at his daughter, encouraging her to keep listening even though she was clearly getting confused. "That's what nations are made out of. Get enough people to believe in an ideal so much that they'll die for it, and you have an army of great soldiers. True heroes."

Aletheia looked down, tugging at the hem of her dress as she grappled with emotions she was too young to fully process. "That means… to be a good soldier, you have to have the same ideals as your King?"

Gaius patted her on the shoulder before answering, putting on his best 'inspiring commander' voice. "That's right, little one, and that's why Golden Devils are the greatest soldiers in the world. Because we believe in the Grand Elder, because we know our society can build a better world."

Aletheia's eyes seemed almost to sparkle now, so taken in was she by the performance. Gaius continued, relieved that he was getting through to her. "Our enemies don't understand, so they try to destroy us. But always remember, we make war against them for their own good. Even if they die, their children will live in a better world."

It seemed Aletheia wasn't sure what to think about that, because she had no further questions. Indeed, she seemed to be reflecting inward rather than looking to her father for any further guidance.

It wasn't right, Gaius thought, for children so young to be thinking so hard. It would be better for Aletheia to have been born into a world in which death did not have to be reckoned with at such a young age. He had chosen a path full of strife, and whatever a life as The Seeker brought him was his own business; Aletheia hadn't chosen anything at all yet. Shouldn't she have been playing with friends, not learning the basics of war?

His head ached.

There wasn't enough time, not nearly enough. The girl was only five years old now and already Gaius felt like he wasn't doing enough. The serious possibility of death had not stung so sharply ninety-five years ago, when his hands were not so overflowing with things to protect and people who needed him. Ideally, Aletheia would already have decided her own path forward by the time he marched out to meet the Trial, but such an idea was foolish on its face. A ten year old child would not be an independent, fully trained philosopher-warrior no matter how hard Gaius pushed her.

Propaganda, however, was one-size-fits-all. In the coming age of war, doubt and regret would lead to suffering and death. Aletheia could find her own way of life later in life, but a strong backbone of loyalty was required. More than anything, what Gaius needed to give his daughter in the time he had was strength. She would be strong; she had to be.

"Always remember, do not lose sight of your ideals, Aletheia." Gaius said, in the warmest tone he could muster. "No matter how crazy you get, you can't forget them. Can you promise Papa that?"

"I promise, Papa." Aletheia declared, nodding as solemnly as a five year old could, before scrunching up her face in confusion. "But what is crazy?"

Gaius jabbed a thumb into his own chest. "It's what we call people who don't think like humans are supposed to think. Everyone becomes crazy, if they cultivate for long enough."

That seemed to take the little girl aback for a moment, giving Gaius a momentary reprieve from her questioning. Aletheia scuffed her shoe against the sand, pushing the grains around aimlessly. "Does that mean I'll be crazy?"

Gaius' smile grew wider, but his eyes grew sadder. "You will, one day. You'l find your way to live, and you'll split open anyone who tells you to live your life another way, because you're my girl."

With this conversation concluded, Gaius sent his daughter off to continue her regimen. From running to jumping to lifting to throwing, this physical conditioning, aided by a course that had been built just for her, required a broad range of physical motions, so as to build all the reflexes and muscle memories of a great athlete and warrior from a very young age.

He walked away until the glare of the sun was banished by the refreshing shade of an overhanging roof. There he beheld a familiar large beast sitting nearly motionless in a pool of water about twice her size. Many of these little aquatic recesses had been built on the manor's property; not for swimming, but for cultivation.

Scylla could not exceed the cultivation level of her partner, but the multiple layers of blood enhancements with which she was burdened ate into her cultivation base enough that her full effort was needed to simply keep pace with Gaius. Her Dull Bronze Constitution was qi-resistant, but made cultivation less efficient. Furthermore, it had been modified to reinforce itself over time, thickening with each passing year and eating into her cultivation base to do so. And on top of all that, she used a cycling pattern which advanced more slowly than the standard Golden Devil pattern, but produced greater qi reserves.

All of those restrictions, and she still kept up with Gaius, aided by the equalizing factor of the Beast Bond. Watching the Rainbow Carp cultivate was a feast for the spiritual senses, a cascading torrent of energy obeying her every command. It was not the steady, disciplined qi flow of a human cultivator, but something more primal; the prodigious natural cultivation of a Sacred Beast blessed by Heaven.

Scylla was roused from her cycling trance as Gaius sat down right next to her pool, spilling some sand into the water and irritating her gills. She burst out in an explosion of motion, spraying her companion and letting out an almost equine huff. "How many times must I tell you, the meditation pool has to be pure!"

Humans were a type of ape, and some humans resembled a particular species of ape. Gaius, Scylla thought, looked a bit like a macaque; long-limbed, long nosed and golden haired. The resemblance only grew clearer when the man was wet, causing his long, faintly metallic hair to adhere to his skin and almost look like a coat of fur.

"You don't need it perfect, you're just spoiled." Gaius groused, wringing out his hair and glaring at Scylla. "Can't I say hello to a friend, you diabolical trout?"

Off in the distance, Scylla spied Aletheia doing her daily routine, given to her as soon as she was able to perform the motions. Now that all of her other exercises were done, she would hit a wooden dummy with 500 forward sword strokes, followed by 300 punches and 300 kicks; a moderate number, for she was only five years old. The sound of her little fists striking the post again and again produced a rhythm which her father seemed to find quite pleasing.

Scylla didn't buy it - she knew this man far too intimately for his deceptions to ever work on her. "What troubles you, Brother?" She asked, floating a few feet above her companion and turning upside down to look him in the eye.

"I'm scared of what I'm becoming." Gaius said, the stark shadows falling across his face and rendering him in abstract, semi-visible shapes. "Men like me shouldn't have children; there's not enough room in our hearts for that simple kind of love. "

Scylla wanted to roll her eyes at the sentiment: the parent-child bonds of pack animals didn't make sense to her. Over the course of her life she had laid many eggs - such was the nature of fish, who spewed out their offspring in great clutches to live and die of their own accord. How many of them had become viable infants? Of those infants, how many had grown to adulthood? Of that fraction, had any reached Foundation Building and gained great intelligence?

There was a wistful affection to those thoughts. The idea of being outlived and honored by one's own blood was touching in its own way. But mammals who gave birth to a single, large offspring at a time approached it quite differently. From her perspective, it was a maddening sort of love, one which overtook rational senses.

Perhaps it was only natural that a species which reproduced so slowly would feel such attachment to each and every genetic prospect. Fewer chances at success meant each one became a greater priority. Supposedly it became the same with dragons, once they grew mighty enough - Yellow Dragons, Scylla had heard, reproduced so slowly that every egg they laid was protected as if it were the lynchpin of an entire nation.

When Scylla saw how Gaius played with his tiny little daughter, she saw the same fathers she'd seen in all sorts of places. It was refreshingly mundane. "And yet, you have found the room. You are becoming a simple man."

"What actions will I take, if I'm all bound up in those sorts of thoughts?" Asked Gaius, turning once again to look at his daughter. "I can't stray, Scylla."

"What reason could she even give you to stray?" Scylla replied, unimpressed by all this brooding. "This is nothing but baseless paranoia."

"I dunno what the reason would be, and that's the scary part… still, I reckon there's enough room in my heart for all of us." He said after a moment, bursting up to his feet. "Each and every Devil, as a collective; That's a lot easier to hold than one person. Mayhaps I'll drag the nation upward with me."

Scylla couldn't help but guffaw at such a simple solution. "And where will you take it?"

"Out of this desert, though I'd bet it could do that even without my help." Of its own volition, Gaius' finger pointed upward, drifting forward and to the left until it settled in a direction which just felt right. "Out of this dead Sea, out of this decrepit world. Off to someplace more suited for stalwart folks like them."

A star in that direction held their future, he thought. It just seemed to fit.

"You say it so casually."

"I was gonna fight for them anyway. I'll just have to carry them a bit farther than I planned." Gaius said with a shrug. "I can make it a part of my path without much friction, and so I will. All there is to it."

—-

You could tell at a glance that those two were related.

It wasn't anything as simple as just features, though Aletheia had come to look like her father in many ways (not the ears and chin though, Axia's genes held those in a vice grip). It was the way in which they both walked, a deliberate carelessness, a deliberately maintained confidence which became something instinctual. It was in the eyes, a shade of blue just bright enough to not look entirely natural.

It was also in the way those eyes looked at things. When Aletheia looked at something that caught her interest, really looked at it hard, it was as if she were disassembling it. Things, people, it was all the same; the girl meant no offense, but she just couldn't help it.

"I don't understand, Papa." The girl said, turning that same scalpel-eyed look upon her father. "Why do we have to make the offering on top of a mountain?"

"Well, the Imperator lives far away, you see." Gaius replied, bearing perhaps the most gentle smile Amaranth had ever seen on his face. "If we get up as high as possible, it'll be easier for him to see us. Ain't that right, Amaranth?" Gaius called out over his shoulder.

From a distance, far enough that the man wasn't even a dot to Aletheia's eyes, a voice called out. "That's for sure, Gaius!" Peculiarly enough, it almost sounded like the sound ripped itself forwards as he spoke, rapidly increasing from a faint noise to a more audible volume.

An emerald flash soared in from the distance, slowly becoming more distinguishable, until a wildly laughing figure appeared over the surface. With a thump, a single boot touched the ground. Unsteady, the man seems like he's about to topple over, but he brings himself on his feet after a few swaying motions. "Alright, maybe that one was a bit too far." Despite the force of the landing, the ground is completely undisturbed, which seems to make him look a bit proud.

Whatever veneer of unflappability the young girl carried quickly faltered at the sudden shock. She yelped and backed away behind her father, who only chuckled. "You're late, man. I was getting worried." With that, he immediately pulled Amaranth into a tight hug. "How are you, buddy? 's been a while."

Amaranth returned the hug, and started talking. "Oh, you know how it is. A giant toad who you offended a hundred years ago ascends to Core Formation in the middle of an island in the void, and decides to try to poison you in the middle of a fight that it really should've thought it'd have won either way. Fantastic stuff, really!"

Amaranth really did smile when he said that. Something as exciting as that, well. Compared to the last few times he got injured from relatively inglorious bits of bad luck, he'd call that proper good luck. Heck, considering that he managed to get some advancement to make up for all of that in the process, it really was a net positive in the end. "Anyways, I just came back from getting my meridians purged of Water Qi, which honestly took longer than I expected. Man, that mess really takes longer than you'd expect. Has to do with the patina inside of your meridians, I hear? Honestly not sure." Amaranth shook his head a few times. There was still a bit lingering inside of his ears, to be quite honest, but it was marginal compared to how it was before.

Gaius gave Amaranth a baffled three-eyed squint. "I… I know I've asked you this before, but are you one hundred percent sure you didn't desecrate some fu…" He glanced back at Aletheia for a moment. "Flippin' toad god shrine when you were a kid?" Seeing Amaranth roll his eyes at the same line of inquiry he'd been getting for many decades, Gaius sighed and backed off the topic. "Well, whatever. I'm glad to see you're in good health after all that. And you uh…"

His eyes briefly flit to the box on Amaranth's back, before returning to his eyes. "Good, you've got the offering too."

Whirling around and pushing Aletheia out in front of him, Gaius gave off a positively glowing grin of pride. "But first thing's first! Sweetheart, you haven't met this man, but he's met you, when you were a baby. He's a war buddy of mine, and one of my closest friends."

Shaking the apprehension from herself like a dog would shake off water, Aletheia composed herself into a polite bow. "Hello, it's very nice to meet you, mister. My name is Aletheia, of House Quintia."

Amaranth chuckled a bit. "Aw, you don't need to be that polite with me. Man, has it been just eight years? You've grown so big so fast! Guess time really does move faster with age." Amaranth looked a bit wistful, but drew himself back into a semblance of composure in short order. "Anyways, hiya! I'm Amaranth Castellanos, though I'm sure you already knew that from your dad."

"This guy," Gaius began, clapping Amaranth on the shoulder. "Is here to help us with our business today. He's brought the offering to the Imperator, freshly prepared." His face fell for a moment, but he quickly affixed a more pleasant look into himself, one Amaranth could tell wasn't quite as genuine. "In a few months… well, you already know what's happening. It's a dangerous time for everyone, low and high. So we're getting this ceremony out of the way now, even if you're a bit too young for it."

Upon hearing the words 'too young', Aletheia tried her best to pout in a regal manner, however contradictory a notion that was. "Papa, I can do it, you worry too much. I'm nine, not six!"

Gaius snorted at that, giving Amaranth a long-suffering but deeply fond look. "Every day, it's like this."

Amaranth smiled sardonically. "Yeah." He stretched that word out a bit. "Kids be like that. It's been the better part of my third century, but I still remember way back in the day, how much the younger kids cared about tiny differences in their age. Hell, there was a time that I called myself seven years and five months old instead of seven years old, just because I wanted to seem older than the others. Man, that's nostalgic. Guess some things never change, huh?"

"Guess not." Gaius sighed. "But we'd best be off. Sundown's the best time to do the deed, and we're a little behind schedule already."

With that, the three of them began their upward trek. It was agonizingly slow for the two Kings, to move at the pace of a mortal child, but there was something refreshing in it too. Something dangerous. In those few hours, in which ascending a small mountain felt like something momentous, Gaius and Amaranth brushed up against their own humanity - risky behavior for a King.

To keep their minds off such things, as well as the possibility of their impending doom in a few months, they discussed all sorts of frivolities. "That was quite a leap back there." Gaius commented idly. "Most Elders couldn't jump like that, I'd imagine. New trick?"

"Oh, that leap?" Amaranth smirked. "Would you believe me if I said I used only the same amount of force as the last leap you watched me do?

"If I recall correctly, there's a law against that. Says you can't make energy out of nowhere. Are you breaking the law? Are you some kind of outlaw, Amaranth!?" Gaius clutched his chest and swooned theatrically.

Amaranth snickered and slapped Gaius on the back. "Hell yeah I am, but that's not the trick that I used." Amaranth theatrically whispered, as if he were saying some great secret, but not nearly quiet enough if he actually wanted only Gaius to hear. "You know that feeling of rushing wind you get if you move fast enough? Turns out if you just eat a certain little thing that makes you push against that wind in the first place, you take longer for it to slow down. I don't really fully get it myself, but it seems to work well enough." Amaranth wipeed a fake tear from his eye. "Though, you haven't even noticed the best part yet! Do you remember how the ground was fine when I landed?"

"Oh, I just figured you'd been dieting." Gaius chuckled. "Seriously though, that was odd. You didn't move like… like an object? Or…" he cupped his chin, trying to figure out some kind of analogy.

"It was like a soap bubble." Aletheia cut in suddenly. "It moves however it wants, even though it doesn't weigh anything."

Amaranth dramatically points a finger at Aletheia. "Ten points to you! Yeah, that's not a bad comparison at all. All I did was just eat a bit of that thing that pulls things down at certain parts of my fall, so I fell as lightly as, well, a bubble or a feather or something else as light as that. I don't really have the specialization to go any further, though, or to do it for any longer than it takes to cancel out a fall. Still, it's a nifty little thing to have in your back pocket."

"You know, if you told that to Abel - he's this special officer of mine - if you told him that, he'd shiii-" Gaius paused, glancing down at Aletheia. "He'd uh… be very frightened. I don't think you fully understand what you've accomplished."

"Eh, how big of a deal could it be?" Amaranth scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I mean, if I threw a rock at something and it didn't fall, I'd be pretty weirded out, but I'm sure it wouldn't be any worse than that." He nodded decisively. "Hell, you could do the exact same thing with a bit of Wind Qi. Would be cheaper too!"

Gaius seemed like he wanted to press the issue for a moment, but then shrugged his shoulders and relented. "Well, either way, it's strong; strong in a way that's not too common either. Lotta the time, it's the esoteric skills that save you when it's down to the wire. The ones they wouldn't expect."

As Gaius spoke, his gaze flashed over to the box for a split-second, then drifted down to the back of his daughter's head. The daughter in question didn't notice, too busy climbing a steeper incline on purpose. "You're gonna regret tiring yourself out now when we're on the way home, girl!" He called out.

"I'm not tired, this is easy!" Aletheia called back.

"Where does that kid energy go?" Gaius asked Amaranth. "I mean… I know I literally have more energy in my body than I used to, but that secret sauce that never seemed to run out in my youth, I hardly ever feel that these days, you know?"

"My personal opinion? Enthusiasm. Variety is the spice of life, after all, and when you're just starting out, everything seems new and fresh, so you throw yourself at it at full force." Amaranth tilted his head, contemplating the concept; thus far in his life he'd proven fairly resistant to the ennui that frequently gripped Cultivators in their third century and beyond.

Even so, he couldn't deny that he didn't spring out of bed with the same electric enthusiasm that he used to. "You know, there's a limit to how many times you can surprise yourself, and if you don't try to push against it, you're going to run into it soon and feel bored for the rest of your life. Just a thought, anyway. I mean, I make no claims to enlightenment. I'm honestly in that exact same position too, but I'm certain that's just because I haven't gone far enough yet."

"Maybe… maybe I ought to take a vacation after this big rumble." Gaius mused, seeing the mountaintop come into view. "A real vacation, I mean. Not a tournament, or a solo monster hunt, or a deathmatch against a super speed science geek with a face full of holes…" after that last one, Gaius trailed off into annoyed muttering for a moment. "There's more than one way to make progress as a person. A bit of softness… it ain't so bad, is it?"

Amaranth nodded sagely at the comment. "Killing and cultivating is fun and good and all, and I wouldn't give it up for the world, but that all being said, if I had to live life with only that, I'd go insane. You got to fill it up with spice, you get me? What's the point of fancy-ass abilities if you can't show them off and make people go 'ooh, that's neat?' What's the point of an eternal life if everything day in and day out is just the same?" Amaranth gestured broadly, towards the sky. "Life is constant, exquisite change and transformation, something that makes you glad that you're still here even as it makes you curse it at the same time.

What's the point of extending that life forever if you don't use it to enjoy this world in its entirety, even if you break it to pieces in the process?" Amaranth paused for a moment, blinking hard as if being awoken from a dream. "Ah, I said something odd there. Let's just ignore that."

Gaius also blinked - once, twice, three times(or was it 4.5? Was a three-eyed blink equal to 1.5 regular blinks?). Then turned back to Amaranth. "Uhh, right, makes sense."

He sighed, seeing that they were finally cresting the top of this small, nameless mountain. Aletheia immediately sat down, wiping the sweat from her brow and beaming at the sight of so much land stretching out before her. "That's amazing! I can't believe I can see so far!" She exclaimed, gazing out upon the landscape as if she were mentally devouring it all.

Gaius looked around for a moment, before zeroing in on a flat patch of ground. "Sure is, kid. But compared to a really tall mountain, this is nothing. Scylla will fly you up one, when you're older." As he spoke, he motioned to Amaranth to bring the box forward.

Amaranth plopped the unusually tall rectangular box onto a smooth patch of ground, with a much louder thud than its size implied. Amaranth slaps the side. "I've got the pumpernickel, Gaius, packaged just like how you ordered."

Gaius strolled over to the box and knelt down, placing his hand on it. "Amaranth, I really must apologize. I won't touch my head to the ground, but maybe I should. This is probably the third most troublesome thing I've ever dragged you into… maybe fourth."

Breathing smoothly and slowly, Gaius pushed his Will into the box, which began to emit a soft yellow light. "Stars of Gold." He commanded. In a bright flash, the box vanished entirely, becoming notes of golden light which then dispersed out into the air, leaving only its contents.

All was quiet for a moment, and then another moment. Finally, the little girl spoke up. "P-papa? That's… that's a…"

"It's a person, yes." Gaius replied, his gaze all at once becoming something not quite human.

Hands and feet bound by spirit-steel manacles, a ragged looking Golden Devil in the dirty, simple clothes of a prisoner writhed on the ground, eyes burning from the sudden switch from total darkness to evening light. He mumbled on and on into a cloth gag, though it was unclear if his speech would be any more intelligible without it. The look in his eyes was already that of a broken man.

Aletheia stumbled backward in a stupor of disbelief and terror, but Gaius pulled her back in with telekinesis and placed his hands upon the girl's shoulders. "I know you're scared, sweetie. I know you are, but please let us explain."

Amaranth's face, in contrast, didn't lose a bit of its cheer. "Well, I think it's simple enough, Aletheia. That man right there is a traitor to the Clan. Your job is to kill him."

"That's the important part, dear." Gaius continued, nodding solemnly. "Your father is a cautious man, even if he doesn't look that way. I can't go to the Trial unless I know you're ready to carry on without me."

"You said you would definitely live!" Aletheia yelled, still trembling but no longer trying to get away. The analytical, almost clinical look she often fell into was gone entirely now, making her better resemble an actual age. "Why do I have to…" she couldn't even say it, and in that critical moment, the young girl made the mistake of meeting the prisoner's eyes.

It was only for an instant, but Aletheia turned away immediately as if she had been struck. "I don't understand…"

"You must." Gaius said in a steely tone, or at least a semblance of one. His resolve faltered for a moment, and he fixed his daughter with a deeply sad smile. "There's no time. Oh child, if you'd only been born five years earlier this would be so much easier…"

Amaranth spoke then, though he had been watching carefully earlier. "These Trials are a cruel thing. Even though I've survived through them twice now myself, I can't really say that I'd come out unscathed with no doubts, even assuming that I hid instead of going into the densest parts, as is my nature, and as is your father's nature. And that's for when things are—" Amaranth caught himself and stopped.

An array of emotions were clearly visible in his eyes, as he seemed to not know what to say next. Then, he shook himself, and it seemed like that mist had cleared.

"Well, anyways, it's not like it's that big of a deal." Amaranth nodded sharply, took a deep breath, puffed himself like a bird showing off its plumage, and put on the best patriotic voice he could manage. "This man, right here, aided a defector to the Blood Path. Our Clan, our glorious Clan, does not ask for much among those who serve under the Bronze Aegis."

"No, not much at all. There's room for all sorts here." Said Gaius, smoothly continuing where Amaranth had left off. That moment of distraction had given him the chance to regain his composure, and now he was back on the script they had planned.

Well, perhaps 'script' was too specific. It was more like stage directions, in a play where the actors were given permission to improvise. There was a general idea of how this would go, but no way to truly be fully prepared.

"But what we do ask is loyalty. We're soldiers, girl. A besieged army." Gaius reached to his hip and unsheathed a sword - not his Dream Sword, a weapon that by now had become rather famous in its own right. No, it was a simple Gravebronze weapon, forged from the bones of some poor Foundation expert who died a hundred generations ago, only to have his tomb looted and his bones melted down to meet the endless demands of the Clan's industry. "They have taken so much from us. So much."

Aletheia swallowed with so much force, it's as if she were choking down gravel. The girl peered up to meet Gaius' eyes, which from Amaranth's position were now blocked by the brim of his hat. Whatever silent exchange happened in that moment, it was in a language only the two of them understood. "A-and… he's a traitor, you said?"

"Yeah, he is." Gaius replied, seizing his daughter's hand by the wrist and placing the sword into her palm. Aletheia's fingers twitched; wanting to hold the sword, but not yet finding the will. Her father closed those fingers with his own hand as he continued to speak. "People died because of what he did. The Golden Devil Clan gave this man everything he ever had, and asked only for loyalty and duty in return, but that wasn't enough for him. He wanted more, and he left us; throughout the ages, under the reign of every Archegetes in recorded history, the punishment for treason has remained the same."

Aletheia's lips made the motions of speech, though she could not find it in her to speak above the barest whisper.

"Death."

Gaius released Aletheia and slowly stood back to his full height. His daughter did not drop the sword, nor did she collapse, but she did not move either, caught between moments like a rabbit in a snare. "By the cross. By beasts. By beheading or hanging or burning." Gaius trailed off, stalling for perhaps just a few more seconds of time. For what reason, it was hard to tell. A few more seconds of innocence, maybe. "The form changes with the times; the cross is back in style these days, after being unfashionable for a while."

Almost conversationally, Amaranth leaned in closely and said, "At one point Pleuron had their own way of doing things: by tree. And no, not hanging, or stretching, or anything like that. Back when Muyi— he was before your time, but when he wasn't really mentally here yet, around a hundred eighty years ago or so, it was pretty popular to toss traitors right at those parasite vines near to Pleuron." The jocular tone faded from Amaranth's voice and he went silent for a moment.. "…man, I miss that guy. Anyway,, those deaths were some of the most intense ones. You'd think that with all of the bodies rotting around in that mess, that it'd finish off its earlier meals, but I guess that wasn't really what it was after. Now, once he was awake again, you couldn't say he wasted any tiny scrap, but back then, well. It was something."

Amaranth wasn't sure where he was going with this, exactly, and that was fine. As long as he kept talking, he was still hanging out with his old friend, not doing… whatever this was supposed to be. "And once he was awake again, you'd better bet he was mad. This might sound surprising, since he was a tree monster and all, but he was one hell of a neat freak back when he was a human, and that carried over as much as it reasonably could. I heard he was still finding bones on him decades after the fact."

"He was my Centurion for a while, did I ever tell you that?" Gaius unexpectedly cut in, turning to fix Amaranth with a bittersweet look and joint him on this digression back in time.

"In the Seventh Cannibal War, right?" Amaranth replied. "Yeah, he sent you on that rescue mission where you found that volcano spirit."

"Wasn't much of a rescue mission. Half of captives didn't make it out."

"And the other half wouldn't have made it without you. Do you still feel bad about that?"

"I dunno, it was my first war mission, ya know? Could have…" Gaius stopped speaking suddenly, looking Amaranth in the eye and holding that look until both men wearily accepted that they couldn't procrastinate any longer.

The whole time, Aletheia didn't respond to them, though now she was moving, at least. One step, then another, she advanced on the restrained prisoner. He squirmed, but no doubt the man had failed time and again to break his bonds, and so his attempts to break free were half-hearted at best. Aletheia held the sword up to her face, adjusting her grip, tilting it this way and that, testing the balance. She was stalling too.

"Your first century of life will be more violent than mine." Gaius said, voice starting to quaver again. "You were born into a Great Era. Fortune rains down on the world, and men take their true shape. We are beings of will; all of this meat? That's just how we move around and keep it in one place."

All of a sudden, Aletheia's own voice returned, and she peered at her father with that analytical look she'd had before, as if all of this weren't happening. "What happened, papa? Why are you scared of the Trial now, when you weren't before?"

"Everything gets more dangerous in times like these. The Year of Sorrows ain't any different." Gaius replied, crossing his arms. "I don't intend to leave this world, but if I'm forced to, I won't go without knowing you'll be alright."

"How!? How does… how does killing someone make me alright!?" Aletheia shot back, voice growing shrill and distressed. It set in, in that moment, how large the standard Legionnaire's sword looked in her hand.

"There's not enough love to go 'round, not enough justice. You'll never prosper if you don't grab ahold of every last scrap you can get and never let go!" Gaius shouted, pointing down at the prisoner. "Some say the weak don't deserve to live. I call those people evil. But in the hardest times, the weak can't live, and we're entering some very hard times, girl. Kill the bastard!"

Eyes wide, the little girl shook like a reed in a storm, as if her father's voice had conjured a gale. She raised the sword above her head, but seemed about as likely to topple over as she was to bring it down.

Amaranth's voice took on a strange fervor. "Let me tell you something, Aletheia. Even if your father doesn't die, in order to succeed in this world, you must have the resolve to live. And if you are to have the resolve to live, you must have the resolve to destroy, no matter what path you walk." He stretched out his hands as if to encompass everything. The air shimmered, warped reflections flashing across the translucent surface if one was to look in the corners of their sight. "Do it."

"Remember what I taught you; a soldier's duty is to kill for someone else's ideals. You're a soldier of the Golden Devil Clan." The Empty King's eyes gleamed with a mystical, alluring intensity as he issued his command. "Do your duty."

Aletheia's second hand found the sword's hilt, and though this model had not been made for two-handing, her hands were small enough to both fit, with the exception of one pinkie. It was a rookie mistake to stick out that particular finger; when it comes to gripping a sword, the pinkie is the most crucial finger of all. This would serve to only make the deed take longer, but neither of the two men dared interrupt this private moment of rebirth.

Gaius Antonius made himself watch as his daughter brought down the sword he had given her over and over into the neck of their prisoner. Being a fairly seasoned Cultivator, said prisoner did not die easily. The first few impacts cut shallowly and only made him redouble his efforts to escape.

Soon, the strokes became more sure, and the cuts deeper. Having already begun the process of ending a man's life, the desire to finish the grisly business as fast as possible motivated her to kill him properly. The young girl adjusted her grip and drove the edge of the blade into bronze flesh with fewer wasted motions, following the direction of the edge more closely.

She hacked deeper into the prisoner's neck, again and again. Until he stopped moving. Until he stopped breathing. Aletheia couldn't have known exactly at which point the man died, and didn't seem to be in a state to judge such things anyway. She brought the blade down again and again, flecks of blood splattering all over her hands and face and chest and knees, until she stopped hitting a man at all, and was only hammering away at the stone where his neck had once been.

After her blade rebounded off the stone several times, the vibrations grew too painful for Aletheia to hold on, and the sword fell from her grasp. She stood in place, looking down at what she had done, not seeming to fully comprehend it.

Looking at the result, Amaranth simply smiled. It was a small smile, tinged with tiredness and relief all at once, less vibrant but no less true than the one he wore at the start of the day. "Good."

Gaius spoke again, after an unclear amount of time had passed - no one there was quite sure how long. "That's what soldiers do, Aletheia. That's what the Great Era means."

He put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. The girl flinched for just a moment, before leaning into his grasp, shivering and weeping. Turning back to the mangled remains of what had been their cargo, Gaius enveloped it in a shroud of his own will, thick enough it almost seemed like it could be touched, and the prisoner too dissolved into innumerable scattered motes of light.

"Now, I know you will be ready."

Amaranth's gaze grew hazy, staring off into something in the distance. "She sure will, Gaius. She sure will.". He looked back to his friend, and felt something that he didn't know how to categorize. Pride, maybe? It was something close enough. "I'm not sure if I've said this to you before, but you've raised a good kid."

The climb back down the mountain was quiet and solemn. No one said any of the things they might have otherwise wished to, and all three resolved to not speak of this moment again.

——

no.: And that's that. I was workshopping this whole entry for quite a while, because I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to introduce Aletheia as a character. I needed to get it just right.

Gaius is not a good father - a man like him never really could be - but he does want the best for his daughter. The problem is that he's crazy, and also a product of a culture which valorizes a glorious death and service to the nation through labor and violence. The two things don't mix well, and the anxiety that he might be about to die is only making it worse.

I also wanted to check back up on his friendship with Amaranth - the two have hung out plenty offscreen, but it was nice to have them interacting in an actual story again.
 
Gaius Antonius 86 - Motivation
Gaius Antonius 86 - Motivation​

Gaius took a long drag of his pipe as her stared down the elderly woman across the table from him. She was dressed in fine, practical robes and had her white hair pinned up in a tight bun. She fidgeted slightly under the Empty King's gaze, waiting for him to finally speak.

"So, how's everything been, Nanny Wu?" Gaius drawled. "Has Aletheia been good? She doin' well at her studies?"

"Most certainly, my lord!" Wu said a little too quickly, glad that the silence had broken. "She takes to the subjects well, studies hard, and learns from her mistakes. The Young Lady maintains good manners and etiquette, and is especially skilled at arithmetic."

The crone beamed with pride as she spoke; it was rather heartwarming, all things considered. Children ought to be minded by people who truly love them, not people doing it out of duty. When her parents couldn't be around, his daughter ought to still have that emotional anchor.

"That's nice, good to hear it." Gaius replied with a nod. "But what about training, is Aletheia slacking off when I can't check in on her?"

Nanny Wu's face grew a bit paler at that, and she fussed with her sleeves as she began to speak. "My lord, the training… the Young Lady continues to train, yes. Most intensely, indeed."

"And why are you saying it like that?" Gaius said insistently, leaning forward and causing the old chair beneath him to creak. A stray lock of hair swung down in front of his face, and he slowly tucked it away without breaking eye contact. "Is there anything wrong?"

Nanny Wu's lip trembled as she considered her words carefully. When her voice did come out, it was creakier and less friendly than before; more carefully guarded. "The Young Lady performs the training regimen set out for her most dutifully, My Lord. I only wonder…" She paused and swallowed, seeming to shrink inward. "I only wonder if it is appropriate for a girl less than ten. Ever since she returned with you from that trip to the mountains, she has been requesting ever more rigorous training."

"Yeah, sure, that's all great." The King drawled, rolling his wrist in a circular motion to not-so-subtly communicate his desire that the nanny get in with it. "But is she actually doing the training? What about the punches? Is she doing her two thousand punches every day?"

The nanny chewed the inside of her lip nervously. "My lord… I really have been meaning to speak with you about that routine."

"So she hasn't been doing them?" Gaius' eyes narrowed slightly and the little old woman seemed to shrink even further in fear.

"No, no, she has done them, I've made sure of it!" Nanny Wu hastily cried out from between chattering teeth. "It's just… that level of body conditioning isn't healthy for such a young child. Are you sure you don't want to consider a more restrained regimen, my lord?" The way in which she raised her shoulders and lowered her head made her look very much like a snail retreating into its shell, which Gaius found quietly amusing.

"Healthy? It's not about healthy." Gaius replied. His hand shot up, the motion eerie not in its speed but its smoothness, its lack of hesitation. He cradled the nanny's face in his palm from underneath, long fingers brushing up against the old woman's cheekbones. They came to rest just below the deep crow's feet which looked almost like old wounds when one squinted.

Nanny Wu was trembling now, but Gaius continued nonetheless, his tone taking on a sleepy, drifting quality. "The greatest people ain't healthy, not in the sort of way children raised in a textbook way grow up to be healthy. It's about dedication, about teaching her the right way to live and die: like a hero."

But for all her timidity in the face of power, the nanny nonetheless had the pride of one nearing the end of her days, and so she spoke truthfully to the King. "S-s-so doing two thousand punches a day as a nine year old girl gives her heroic qualities, my lord? Her hands, they'll be gnarled things; good for pugilism, but without the delicacy to write her name."

Curiously, the Empty King looked deep into Nanny Wu's grey eyes, and found himself a little bit impressed by the her conviction. Conviction, convincing, coincidence. Conviction, -viction, victim, victory. Conviction, convent, convalesce, content, consent, contract, contact.

"My lord? My lord?" Nanny Wu called out to the unresponsive Gaius, who did not heed her words. "Are you having an episode? Do you need me to get anyone?"

"Contact…" Gaius whispered, fingertips gently caressed the nanny's cheek. "Contact. Eye contact is burning, eye consciousness is burning. Burning with what? Burning with desire. Burning with the fire of affliction…" He soon trailed off, not fully cognizant of his own words, and let his hand fall.

He realized in that moment that his grip had been growing steadily tighter. How strange. He didn't want to kill old Wu, did he? He was grateful for all the crone had done.

Gaius blinked three times, re-centering himself before he spoke again. "My hands turned out fine. I abused them just as much when I was a boy. I can write." He waggled his calloused fingers dextrously as a demonstration before turning away.

"I know how you feel, my lord." Nanny Wu rasped, her voice thick with emotion. There was no hostility or resentment, despite the way Gaius had just treated her. "You carry yourself the same way I've seen many old friends carry themselves in recent years. The same way, I suspect, I will soon."

Gaius said nothing, facing away but not leaving. He picked up his pipe and took another long drag, then overturned it to empty the spent ashes into a tray.

"You carry yourself in the manner of a dying man, My Lord. You wish to set everything just right before you go." The nanny continued, some of the formality leaving her voice. "I cannot claim to know what is going on, but I can see that much. A person who will not see the future for themself wishes to align the pieces in such a way that they can imagine it vividly. It is a comfort we all seek in the end, when it comes with warning."

——

Being a gatekeeper is, generally, one of the easiest jobs one can have. So easy in fact, that gatekeeping duty is usually rotated by groups of soldiers so that no one goes soft by being a permanent gatekeeper; after all, a guard that's gone soft can't guard anything.

Today, it was Maria's job to be the gatekeeper, standing watch over the one entrance to the Quintia Manor. In times of political tension or military conflict, a whole squad might be assigned to such a position, but for the time being it was just a formality, something for a fairly strong Legionnaire to do when they weren't in the mood for a more intense, high-paying mission.

The only problem about this job was the boredom, which meant Maria was actually rather happy to see someone approaching along the brick pathway to the manor. A tall, broad-shouldered person silhouetted from behind by the glare of the sun made their way to the gate, moving with the sort of brisk walk someone uses when they're very determined to be at their destination, but doesn't want to look unprofessional. When this visitor arrived, they came to sudden, jerky stop less than ten feet from the gate, as if the idea there was a barrier in their way hadn't occurred to them until just now.

"Um… I didn't know there was gonna be a big gate…" the figure muttered, and Maria was taken aback by the tone and pitch of the voice that emerged. This wasn't an adult, it was a teenage boy. A teenage boy already taller than most adult men; had he started cultivating already?

Not that it mattered. The Legionnaire cleared her throat, prompting the boy to jump in place and whirl around to look at her. "You can't just walk into a great house's manor, kid. What's your business?"

Collecting himself quickly, the visitor pressed his fist into his hand and bowed sharply to Maria before speaking. "My name is Apollo. Don't have a last name; that's kinda why I'm here actually." The boy chuckled nervously before continuing. "I… I'm here to speak with my father."

Apollo wore a sturdy, rough-spun traveling cloak over the unremarkable pants and tunic of a commoner as he reached up to pull back his hood, Maria spied large hands, thick wrists and rough-skinned fingers and palms, all signs that the boy's short lifetime had been one of difficult labor thus far. However, it was what she saw when the hood was gone that left more of an impression.

There was a powerful sense of brashness to the way this teenager moved, all coiled power with hardly any grace reigning it in. He was big, too, which only added more physicality to every motion. A short mop of golden curls fell messily all over the place, and every now and then he had to brush a few over his ear to clear his vision.

Those bright blue eyes stood out the most, though - big, expressive and sitting on either side of a perfectly straight nose which jutted out of his face like the point of a dagger. Though still hidden by the last few bits of baby fat on his face, a chiseled chin and jaw could be made out as well.

Frankly, the boy looked kind of like if Gaius Antonius had been inflated slightly. Made more solid and broad than the scarecrow of lean muscle that the Empty King was. Did that mean…

"Please." Apollo said gently, looking the gatekeeper in the eye in vulnerable fashion that made her wholly uncomfortable.

What was Maria meant to do here? She'd been given no instruction about how to handle such things, and either letting this visitor through or turning him away seemed equally likely to get her scolded. How could she best avoid the ire of the man betrothed to the Quintia heir(and this one of the most important members of the family she was currently working for)?

After another moment of silent contemplation, Maria fished a carved array-slip out of her pocket and pressed it to the wall beside the gate. I'm response, it opened almost too smoothly. The relative lack of noise made the structure feel a bit uncanny, and served as a subtle reminder of the wealth that lay within.

"This seems prudent, so go ahead. Don't cause any trouble." The gatekeeper quietly commanded Apollo, her voice shot through the uncertainty as she stood aside. The visitor gave her a short nod in thanks, and then his attention shifted right away to the manor, fully fixated on his goal. She'd seen the Empty King coming and going in the past, and that looked familiar indeed.

——

Apollo, or Apollo Nolastname, or Apollo Nothing, or Apollo The Unwanted, depending on how rude one wanted to be, sighed with relief. He'd known the Quintia family was right, but he figured the guards would be in front of the house itself, not before he even got there. He breathed deeply and steadily, trying to steady his pounding heart as he grew closer and closer to that towering estate. The time right after the Trial would be too chaotic to get ahold of this man, what with all of his responsibilities. No, his only chance was now, in the calm before the storm.

And so, a commoner without much to call his own stood before the Quintia Manor. A groundskeeper eyed him warily, seemed to consider saying something, then turned and walked away. Apollo studied the door intensely. Obviously he wasn't meant to just open it and walk in - it might be locked anyway. Perhaps it would be best to simply knock, but how loud was he to knock? Too softly, and no one would notice; too loudly, and it would be rude.

How did bigwigs act when they visited one another? Apollo wouldn't know the first thing about that, not being a bigwig himself. It wouldn't be appropriate for him to act that way anyhow. How was a commoner who wasn't a servant meant to enter the manor of a great house? He supposed that wasn't something that ever happened without special invitation, and he didn't have that.

Before Apollo could get any more lost in thought, he was interrupted by the very reason he had come. A tall man in a dark green cloak with a wide-brimmed hat rounded the corner and turned to see the visitor. As the man approached, the boy told himself not to panic - he already had some rough plans as to what to say, and now was the time to put those plans into action.

The figure stopped a few feet from Apollo, who saw his three eyes and concluded for sure that this was definitely Gaius Antonius. "Now ain't that strange, that a visitor arrives just as I decide to go out for a walk." Gaius mused with a smirk. "You're not stalking me, are ya boy?"

"N-no, no, not at all!" Apollo replied, holding his hands above his shoulders and shaking his head. "Well, uh, I did come here to see you, but not because I'm stalking you!"

Gaius said nothing, simply crossing his arms and raising one eyebrow. Wow, they really did look alike!

Apollo would like to believe that he was not babbling, but simply recalibrating his own mouth. "I wasn't sure how I'd get to see you, I kind of came here hoping for the best, and then you were right out here. I… I'm sorry, this is sounding creepy, but it's not creepy! I just-"

"That's enough, I get it!" Gaius cut in, raising his voice over Apollo's and clapping him on the shoulder. "So you came here to see me. Here I am. What comes next… what's your name?"

"Apollo, sir." The boy answered, frozen stiff as a board at the King's touch.

"Don't 'sir' me, you don't work for me." Gaius chided him playfully, pulling away and looking the boy up and down. "Why do you want me here?"

"Because there was something I suspected." Apollo began, forcing the words out before Gaius got fed up with him and left. "Something I was ninety percent sure of, but needed to see you in person to confirm. Can we please talk for a while? Not long, just half an hour, maybe one hour?"

The Seeker sighed and shook his head, pacing back and forth as he spoke. "Listen boy, you've got gumption, but if I entertained every request every person had for me, I'd have none left to do the things that matter. You're asking for an hour of my time when you ain't even awakened your own qi. Check this out."

In his right hand, golden light gathered up. In fact, Apollo could swear their surroundings grew darker for a moment, though perhaps that was his own focus on what Gaius was doing. From that light emerged a solid piece of dark metal. It was a blocky thing, little more than a handle connected to a rectangular contraption which stuck out perpendicularly from said handle. There was a lever on one hand and a hole on the other, and for the life of him, the boy had no clue what he was looking at.

"This," said Gaius, twirling the little doodad he had conjured up. "Is something I got from a subordinate of mine. Perhaps you've heard of Abel Angelus?" He paused for a moment, only to see Apollo's blank face and snort. "Ah well, I suppose that's only fair; Abel's shy, he don't like to hog the spotlight. The point is, that man's got one hell of a brain. I should know, I dove in there and pulled this out when I was helping him train."

With that said, Gaius pointed the contraption at Apollo, whose instincts lit up with danger for reasons he didn't understand. The hole on the front of that device had a spiral pattern, the boy realized. It felt as if those spirals carved into the metal were a vortex trying to suck him in.

"W-what's it do?" Apollo nervously asked. He wouldn't, couldn't back down in front of this man, not if he wanted to confront who he was and where he came from.

"This." Gaius replied, followed by a loud, sharp bang that reminded Apollo of a small firework being set off. The whizzing that passed a foot from his head was, however, not something he had any reference for, save perhaps the time he stood on the edge of a ravine and nearly fell in. His stomach twisted up in exactly the same way, becoming aware of the the threat only when it had already passed.

"Amazing stuff, right!?" Gaius laughed, pointing that awful little weapon to the sky and letting out several more bangs. "This thing doesn't use any qi at all, if you can believe it; just regular blasting powder and a whole bunch of complicated mechanical parts. It's called a pistol."

The Seeker let that 'pistol' fall from his hand, at which point it released a bright flash and dissolved into golden motes which scattered to the wind like fireflies. "It doesn't use qi, but mortals can't even see the little bolts it shoots. Hell, almost nobody in Qi Condensation can either. I use it to fuck around with my Centurions and train their reflexes."

A man who could think up a mundane weapon that Qi Condensation soldiers couldn't follow? We're those the kinds of freaks Gaius Antonius had on his payroll? The man was infamously eccentric, and known for attracting other eccentrics, but now the distance between Apollo and Gaius seemed to get wider by the second.

Apollo realized after a moment that he was probably supposed to be saying something right now, and fumbled for some words to throw out there. "And, uh, is the pistol a wise metaphor or a proverb, or-"

"Apollo." Gaius said quietly, causing further words to die in the boy's throat. "If you can't even catch that bullet, can't even see that bullet, why am I talking to you? You don't work at the Manor, you're not one of my men, I don't think I've ever met you before." There was something mad in those eyes. Like curiosity, but more intense, intense enough that it needed a new word. "You've got five minutes. What is this really about?"

Shit, were they really going to hash this out right here, outside? Not in some sitting room or an office or some other place where business is done?

"Well, you see…"

He was supposed to just tell Gaius now? Without any real prelude? What was his original plan again? Had there even been one.

"I thought it should be brought to your attention that…"

Fuck, why wouldn't the words come out? Apollo spoke his mind how he liked; told it like it was, always. That was his policy, and it made him as many enemies as it did friends. So why was he struggling so much to say the truth now of all times? Now, when it was the most important thing he had ever said?

"You know… don't you think we look very similar?" Apollo managed after an interminable length of time. There was no sound, save for a very light wind that made Gaius' cloak and hair flutter a bit.

"…I suppose we do." Gaius said with a shrug. "Why's that matter?"

"Like… really similar? Too much to be a coincidence?" Apollo relied insistently, raising his eyebrows.

Gaius' gaze grew harder, more guarded. "If it's not a coincidence, then what is it?"

Apollo's breathing quickened under that sword-like look, but the pressure served to draw out more of his courage, and he pressed harder. "You… you know, mom talks about you a lot. She's always been sure it was you, because you rented her out for two weeks. That whole time, she was with you and no one else. And with the way I look, well…"

The King sighed and slumped forward, eyes briefly hidden beneath the brim of his hat. "When I'm not on vacation or a mission, I cultivate for eighteen hours a day. I sleep for one. That leaves me with four hours to train and one to do everything else." When Gaius raised his head once more, only dismissive pride swelled on his face. "One hour. How much of that hour am I supposed to spend letting a mortal ramble at me like this?"

Apollo's fist clenched, frustration he hadn't known he was feeling surging within him. "You really have nothing to say to me? Nothing at all, not even 'I don't care, go away'?"

"And why would I have something to say, kid?" The Seeker replied, his haughty look fading to a disinterested one. "Is there a reason I should hold any opinion about you whatsoever?"

Apollo 's fists clenched harder until it felt like he was about to break all the bones in his own hands. His heart raced. Gaius knew. He was a smart man, mom had said, so he had to have put it together. He was playing ignorant, because he thought Apollo wasn't even worth rejecting.

As this epiphany sunk in, the boy realized that he couldn't remember the last time anyone had made him this mad. Even two years ago, when an older boy with merchant parents had saved up enough allowance to buy Apollo's mother for a night and mock him about it the next day, it hadn't hurt quite this much. Shattering that smug bastard's face had been enough to quell his fury then, but he didn't think a dozen punches would settle this at all.

If he'd been rebuffed before he could get close, not even allowed to speak with the King due to the difference in standing, that would be one thing. If he'd been rejected entirely, told to never show his face to The Quintia family again so as not to shame them, it would be another. But this willful ignorance, as if Apollo's own birth was nothing but a speck of dust to be brushed away, was impossible to accept. "We're family. I'm your family…"

Gaius tilted his head, running the numbers on some evaluation Apollo couldn't hope to understand. Whatever conclusion he reached, it did not change his demeanor. "Of course you're my family; all people with the Bronze are."

A newborn, simmering grudge burrowed into the young Devil's body and sank to the pit of his stomach like a stone. "A prostitute named Rhea. Works in Emporikipolis. Tall, with a round face. Green eyes, bushy eyebrows, a mole on the back of her neck. Does any of that ring a bell?"

A nostalgic look flashed in Gaius' eyes for a moment before fading, leaving it hard to tell if it had really been there. "Listen, Apollo, I'm a busy man." He sighed, though it seemed from his tone like he was holding back more.. "If you have something to say, just say it already."

Two eyes met three, all five glinting with equal intensity. "I'm your son."

There was no sound for a few moments. Now forced to confront the information he had been so unsubtly dodging, Gaius' posture shifted, growing straighter, his body language more restrained and businesslike. "And do you have any proof of that?"

Apollo didn't bother to hide his anger anymore, openly glaring at this man who could turn him to dust. "Look at me, asshole! We look the same! I've got the same rare eyes, your eyes!"

Gaius' face grew meaner and more aggressive in turn, though he didn't stoop to such an openly hateful expression. "Lots of people look like lots of other people. Unless you've got something more substantial than that, I can't take those sorts of allegations seriously."

Apollo wasn't sure when exactly he got within two feet of Gaius, but here he was, all of a sudden, shaking with anger. His father really wasn't that large, he noted; the hat and the cloak added a lot of volume, but the King himself had to be well under two hundred pounds. Apollo could pick Gaius up, maybe even carry him around or toss him several feet. This was just a man.

Gaius didn't flinch, though something did stir within him, buried too deep to be clearly identified. "Are you going to swing at me? Even if I let you hit me, you'll only break your hand."

"If you don't want me, I understand. I'll go." Apollo growled slowly. The very wind seemed to be utterly silent. Nothing could get in the way of the two of them. "Just acknowledge that you heard me, please. For just a second, please recognize that I exist."

The light in Gaius' eyes shut off for a moment, revealing only the black iron of authoritarian will. "You shouldn't speak like that to people who outrank you, civilian." He replied, barely above a whisper. "You seem like you have a lot of potential, and I've got a good eye for these things. You oughta run along and become someone important if you wanna negotiate."

"Fine." Apollo answered, whirling around and striding away without looking back. Distantly, he heard his father walking away as well, as if nothing had happened.

As he began the long, shameful trip back home, Apollo found it strange that every step seemed easier than the last. It was as if a strength, an energy he never knew he possessed, was taking hold of his body. He didn't dwell on it long, for he was too caught up in his own rage, which burned hot, black and bitter like unsweetened coffee. "I'll be the winner in the end. Gaius Antonius, you will acknowledge me - I'll make you do it if I have to!" He declared, glaring off into the distance with newfound purpose.

——

Gaius leaned against a wall, peering out a window at the retreating form of Apollo, and saw in the boy's back the strength of one with newfound purpose. "Go get yourself strength that no one can deny. You can do it kid, I know you can." He said wistfully.

That had hurt a lot, more than almost any battle injury Gaius had received. He wanted, more than anything, to go out there and wish his son - his son, imagine that - well, to give him all manner of instruction. But dying men had to make sacrifices, so as to secure the future in the time they had left. Gaius was not sick, but with the special Trial coming up, his survival could not be guaranteed no matter what he did.

"Papa, who was that boy you were talking to?" Asked a familiar voice from behind Gaius. He did the best he could to cast off the weariness weighing down his bones and turned to face the sound.

There was Aletheia, dirty and exhausted, blood dripping from a few of her knuckles but eyes as sharp as ever. Gaius reminded himself what all of this was for, and felt reassured in his decision.

A soft, sad smile broke across The Seeker's face. "It's nothing. Just a boy who needed some guidance. I gave him an important gift."

"What kind of gift?"

"Motivation, drive. It's not something that can be given to you; it's something you have to find inside yourself." Unconsciously, Gaius' hand curled into a fist, and he gently struck the wall beside the window a few times, barely hard enough to make a sound. "When you don't want to do it anymore, that's when you do it harder than before."

Gaius had been aware of his bastard son for a two years now, ever since an agent of his had tracked down the prostitude who had borne him. Gaius found such things tedious, but Albinus was more fastidious than he, keen to seek out problems before they arose.

He had at first wanted to take the boy in - not necessarily into the Quintia family, but into his own care as a protege. The problem was, as always, the timing. The Trial was bearing down on him like an executioner's blade, and he needed to build things that would last beyond his end.

"Who is he?" Gaius' daughter asked him with a furrowed brow. "Why did you give something to him? Do you know him?"

"Oh, I know him. Not well, but I know him." Gaius said, looking out at the now distant form of his son. "Oh, dear Aletheia. I think you and him are going to know each other quite well."

Given Apollo's age, the Dawn Fortress would make him wait until the Trial's end to cultivate, rather than throw him to the wolves as a First Heavenstage. That wasn't actually necessary this time around, but such information was highly classified. He'd begin in two years at the age of sixteen, and then Aletheia would begin four years after that at fifteen. A fairly close starting line, if not perfectly even.

Apollo wanted to be recognized, and Gaius saw in the boy the same curse of mad stubbornness that he bore. He would push himself harder, faster and farther to be worthy, and Axia certainly wouldn't acknowledge a bastard unless they were so exceptional that ignoring them would be a political fumble. Aletheia, meanwhile, was truly loyal to her father, and would fight with all her might to not lose her position as Gaius' heir to an upstart bastard.

Yes, if Gaius died, those two would push each other forward competing over his legacy. Motivation, once lost, was a hard thing to regain, and he would leave behind a bountiful supply for both of his children.

——

And there's another plotline I've been meaning to start for a while now. I've had this thought in my head about Gaius' bastard child trying to gain his recognition, only for Gaius to rebuff them again and again so that they'll be motivated to become even more successful. I decided to tie that in with Gaius' daughter Aletheia, who I invented on somewhat of a whim. The number of important things I intend to establish that I haven't even posted any actual content about grows larger and larger.

Gaius is The Seeker. To him, human free will and ambition are the most important things of all, beyond anything else. His ideal world is a universe of pure thought and will, where people are sparks of identity that shape reality around them through their desires. Where battles and wars take the form of dreams and concepts smashing into one another like colliding galaxies.

He is often selfish, but he'll stop at nothing to ensure that the ambitions of those around him flourish, and in the event of his death, he wants his children to be eternally motivated to gain more strength.
 
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Gaius Antonius & The Builder - Immaculate Conception
Gaius Antonius & The Builder - Immaculate Conception​

An ingenious plan. A historic opportunity. A monumental war.

In just a few more years, the Centennial Trial was set to begin, but this time things would be very different. The offensive would be diverted entirely, leaving the Golden Devils free to wage war, as was their favorite pastime, unhindered. In this, their most vulnerable moment, the enemies of this great civilization planned to launch all manner of assaults, in response to alliances of convenience made against them.

The barbarians would be driven back, and in the furious fighting, glory and riches aplenty would flow. Under such circumstances, competition inevitably emerged - after all, every Legion wished to elevate itself to a higher status, to gain more resources, more lucrative and prestigious missions, greater sway within the Clan at large. The Stargazers were no exception, and it could not be said that Gaius Antonius was one to waste an opportunity.

"With all due respect Sir, why not just commission puppets?" Asked Penelope, following behind Gaius as he briskly walked across the Legion's camp toward the testing ground he had prepared in secret.

Gaius sighed and tilted his head skyward, dilated pupils wincing as they caught a glimpse of the sun. "Because puppets are stupid, Penny. Without an operator, they're useless. I need a fighting force that operates on its own. Real, thinking soldiers that we can make on the spot."

"Such a thing would be a very steep investment, especially in such a short timeframe. Everything else will have to work on quite a lean budget." The Amazon said, not quite sighing. No, a sigh would be too brash and insubordinate for such a straight-laced officer, so she merely let her tone grow firmer, adding more weight to her skepticism. "Forgive me Sir, but I fail to see the point of something this drastic."

"The point, my deeply uncreative Junior, is that I need more fucking men!" The King shouted, spreading his arms wide. "I've got five thousand here, and they're damn good, but that'll only get me so far. And for a good long time, ten thousand is the most I'm allowed. That's not enough either."

"A lopsided ratio of footsoldiers to officers is a dangerous thing, Sir. Communication might break down." Penelope shot back, unabated by the sheer energy of her superior. The people the two passed looked away, long since familiar with the exchanges that happened with Gaius got a huge new idea. "I mean no offense, but you hired me on the condition that I would speak frankly to you and without fear. I worry you might be too ambitious."

"These battles we're about to have are our chance to take this whole thing to the next level. Game time shit!" Gaius tried to snap his fingers several times, only to fail thanks to an excess of sweat between them, producing a sort of dull whacking several times before giving up. "Let's say each and every one of our boys gets enough action to kill three of the bastards on average; those are damn good numbers, that's fifteen thousand kills. Lotta wealth to go around from that, lotta clout. We'll see a whole lot of soldiers going up a Heavenstage or two in a short time."

Penelope furrowed her brow in consternation at the manic energy of her superior. "Sir, are you on stimulants right now?" She asked plainly.

"Yes, but that's not the important part. Use some imagination, Penny!" Gaius pointed to his temples, as if perhaps a visual aid would get such an idea across better. "Imagine if we had another five thousand soldiers; ones that didn't need to cultivate, didn't fear for their lives, didn't need to be paid. Let's say each of them kills three." He continued, giving his subordinate a pointed look

'Penny' finally relented, stopping dead in her tracks and drawing her mouth into a thin, grim line across her face. "Then, in that hypothetical scenario…" The Amazon began to answer cautiously, hesitant to enable her boss like this. "If all went according to plan, then all the spoils from another fifteen thousand kills would go to the five thousand actual soldiers."

"You're damn right…" Gaius muttered, rubbing his hands together and chuckling to himself. "The enemy won't know what hit 'em. Now, let me show you what the eggheads have cooked up."

——

Henrietta Stolo was stressed out of her mind, but what else was new?

Working for an ambitious eccentric like Legate Antonius held one strong benefit: when she took advantage of his manic episodes, she got more funding. Unfortunately, the young Centurion had finally bit off more than she could chew. Henrietta ran her fingers through her short, messy hair and inspected the comatose body before her. Standing a few feet back, another Centurion by the name of Anacletus Lupus leaned over a desk with a scroll laid atop it, charcoal in hand and ready to take notes.

Before her, surrounded on all sides by a coffin-like, array-lined container, was… something. Not a human, really, and depending on one's definition, not an animal either. After all, animals were born, either from eggs or directly from a womb - they were not built.

Its skin was pale, as infusing the Bronze would only complicate their project at this point. It was entirely without hair too, so as to make monitoring and testing easier. It was fairly thin and nearly seven feet tall, built for speed and endurance more than strength; the muscles could be enhanced once they had a model that lived long enough to reach the battlefield.

The facial features were not quite humanlike, though. The nose was broad and somewhat flat, to make it resistant to breaking. The skull was thick and the forehead sloped, to deflect blows. The eyes were large for good vision, but set rather deep into the face, again for protection. The small chin, flat teeth and square jaw provided additional resistance to injury. All in all, the experiment's head looked somewhat like a helmet; this was a creature meant first and foremost for combat.

This carried over to the bones, which had been thickened compared to a human's in places where it was possible. This was primarily in the limbs, although the ribs and spine had a bit of extra mass as well; as much as could be managed without a major drop in flexibility. The organs, too, were mostly like a human's but modified for combat; thicker and more numerous veins for greater bloodflow, and a larger heart to pump all of that blood. A third lung, so compensate for the heart's greater demand. The stomach and intestines were shrunk down a bit to make room for all of that - this expendable creature wouldn't be eating normal food, but a compact, nutritious paste, and so the digestive system was not a major issue.

There were no genitals, and while the experiment's impact-resistant face could be said to look masculine, inasmuch as it looked like a human face at all, it had no sex in any real sense. Dealing with that had in fact been one of the pair's greatest challenges - hormonal and humorous problems were nearly as likely to destroy the subject's body as heart attacks, strokes and ruptured arteries were.

It was not beautiful, but Henrietta held a sort of mild affection for the beast she had built nonetheless.

Each new model spasmed horribly, could only manage to walk a few steps, and expired in a matter of hours. Though a powerful warrior in theory, these fleshy recreations of a popular kind of puppet design simply weren't equipped to properly hold a Will yet; almost nothing was. True, each new model lasted longer than the last and moved more easily, but none had been truly viable. The last one had lived for fourteen hours, and this one probably wouldn't go past sixteen.

When the door to her underground workshop flung open, the alchemist Centurion knew immediately who it was. No one was allowed in here aside from the few assistants who were also in on the project, unless they had the permission of Gaius Antonius, Legate of the Stargazers. It was an old bunker, re-used from the Thousand Forts built to withstand Cannibal attacks a century and a half prior. A bit cramped, but it did provide a lot of security.

No one else but Gaius would simply walk in without forewarning, and so, Henrietta snapped to attention automatically. Anacletus got into position a split second later, saluting beside her.

The King looked casual enough in his demeanor, but it was hard to not be nervous when her superior stood two heads taller than both her and her coworker. Without saying another word, Anacletus fell back, stroking his beard in a soothing motion and letting Henrietta handle the talking as usual.

"Uh, good evening, Sir! What can we do for you?" Henrietta stammered out, trying to feel out the mood.

"It's morning." Gaius chuckled, prompting her to look over his shoulder - sunlight was indeed shining through the bunker's entrance. "And I've come to show Penny here that this project has a chance."

The Empty King stepped forward, letting the Centurion in question enter through the small doorway, and leaned over the storage unit. "Yeesh, it gets uglier each time I see it. Can't we get something a bit prettier?" Gaius joked as he inspected the specimen.

Henrietta swallowed thickly and slowly gave her report, one heel bouncing on the floor as she spoke. "Sir, our most recent model survived for fourteen hours and six minutes before dying of a heart attack. We've improved the integrity of the circulatory system, so we believe we can make this new one last over sixteen, and with increased physical strength besides."

"Not even a whole day, and they've been getting how much funding for ten months?" Penelope asked, raising one eyebrow impressively high.

"You're supposed to get more resources soon now that we've cut some more corners, but…" Gaius winced, running his fingers over the rim of the storage unit. "This ain't making me too confident."

Henrietta winced; of course her Legate would expect some kind of miracle from the first year of production. He was the sort of person who was used to miracles. "I'm afraid this model has plenty of flaws, Sir. It will take us more time to smooth everything out. We're breaking new ground here, building Cultivator bodies in this sort of way…"

Indeed, it wasn't the sculpting of flesh that was novel, but the idea of mass-production. Were Henrietta allowed to be more extravagant with her creation, to use more rare materials and spend more money, she could certainly make something functional. Hell, Anacletus could build an artificial man in three days if given no other restrictions. But a body functional enough to house simple Wills, powerful enough to fight on the front lines, and above all else simple enough for Gaius to conjure en masse was a very tall order.

Gaius took a pull of his cigar, glowering down at the timid officer. "War's coming soon, and this doesn't cut it. By all means, keep revising your designs, but we need a prototype we can throw at the enemy in waves as soon as possible. You can improve it all you want after that."

"I-it's as you say, Sir, but an organic body is a lot more complicated than a puppet, even if it does interface with a Will more easily…" She tentatively replied, her voice growing a bit softer with each word until she was barely audible. Why? Why couldn't anyone understand how complicated this sort of work was? 'Build me mass-produced artificial men, I'll handle the Wills' was not remotely the simple command Gaius seemed to believe it was.

What didn't help either was that Gaius was vain and flashy at times. He didn't have the patience for the scientific details, nor did he care that the fundamentals were improving in leaps and bounds; he wanted something that could be used for a demonstration.

"Henrietta, Anacletus, I'll be frank with you." Penelope spoke up, folding her hands behind her back and looking down at the experiment with a critical eye and a sickened expression. "Can you actually have these… beasts ready for mass-production in time? From what the Legate tells me, your progress has been incremental at best for the past six months."

"We assure you, Sir, if the only things you need are combat power and the ability to be controlled by a Will, then there are a few shortcuts we can still make. These incremental improvements help us pave the way for bigger changes." Anacletus cut in suddenly, putting a reassuring hand on Henrietta's shoulder and stepping up to meet their superior's eyes. Gaius seemed bemused - The short, stout alchemist didn't speak more than he had to, so to see him take initiative in a conversation like this was unusual.

"There are more breakthroughs we're working on here, and when we can implement those, the organism will become far less complex, allowing us to hone in on the flaws. We don't need to store it long-term; they'll be going into battle over and over as soon as they're created. They don't need spiritual anatomy complex enough to cultivate either." He nodded to Henrietta reassuringly, bidding her to take over. The sudden shift in the energy of the conversation seemed to please their Legate, who conjured up an ashtray on a nearby table and tapped his cigar on the edge.

The physician stroked her chin, trying to look like she had it more together than she really did. "Indeed, that will help out a lot once we get it working. An artificial creature like this wouldn't be stable enough to ascend anyway. We could greatly simplify the meridian network; that would make them more resistant to injury with only a small drop in qi efficiency."

Penelope seemed a bit less disdainful, albeit still skeptical. Gaius, on the other hand, looked relieved. "Well, I'm sure you can get it all done. Big things are coming, and I won't be around to supervise you when it's go-time."

"Sir, yes Sir!" The two scientists said in unison, both giving a sharp salute. The sooner they were alone again, the sooner they could get back to catching up with their timetable.

—-

With time, of course, the project did improve. As the Clan prepared for another wave of war amidst the sea of conflict that made up their lives, rumors began to spread through the Stargazers' ranks about a diabolical scheme concocted by the Legate and his pet nerds. Artificial bodies, to house the Wills of the dead and bolster the ranks of the Legionnaires. This soon came to be known as the Revenant Project, and by the time said project neared its completion, many already believed it to be true.

Returning from the Quintia Manor and on his way to the battle that might very well be his last, Gaius stopped by Henrietta and Anacletus' latest laboratory. As usual, it was constructed in whichever of the Thousand Forts was closest to the Legion's current location; in this case just ten miles from the main camp. When he arrived, he found that he wasn't the only visitor - the other key participant had already arrived.

The newest iteration of the Revenant looked crude on the outside - cruder than the last one, in fact. 'Simplify, simplify, simplify' had been the mantra of the project, finally arriving at this, a genuinely stable specimen. Capable of surviving for up to six months on its own, and over twice as long with regular maintenance. That meant that in a properly supplied Legion, each generation of Revenants would live for one year. Good enough, for now.

Replicating the Blood of Bronze had remained an impossibility for now; too expensive and too complicated. It remained a pale thing, but now it had leather-like skin resembling the hide of a wild beast. The thick, armor-like head was mostly the same, though it now had a larger jaw and a small raised ridge on the top of the head which made it look a bit like a gorilla's skull. Apparently, this shape increased the creature's biting power, which in turn helped the rest of the body generate power. Gaius knew gritting one's teeth helped with landing hard, forceful strikes, but how did gritting harder make one hit harder? He supposed this was why he wasn't the one building the Revenants.

The body was still seven feet in height and more muscular than before. The two alchemist Centurions had decided in the end that they would in fact sacrifice some flexibility for brute strength and running speed, as a narrower range of motion meant the nervous system could be made ever so slightly less complex. This large size also allowed room to store a larger amount of qi, more than the standard Fifth Heavenstage Legionnaire would be capable of holding.

A variety of natural weapons such as claws, blades or venom had been debated, but in the end, this particular specimen had been constructed without any so as to meet the deadline. Its four-fingered hands could wield weapons just fine, and reducing the number of digits on the hands and feet had made the limbs easier to get right.

In short, what lay on that slab would be what you might get if you asked a young child to draw you a warrior. There was so much room to grow, but at least they had an effective starting point now.

Gaius turned to the other man, who stood across from the alchemist duo, looking down at the test subject thoughtfully. The Seeker tipped his hat and smiled. "It's been a while, Builder. I'm sorry to call you over on such short notice; we really got down to the wire making this Revenant viable - got it done with just a month to go. Told ya my nerds could do it."

It is very, very rare for any member of the Brotherhood to think of resting. The single day in a month or year they call 'vacation'. But after the preparations for the Trials, that secret mission by the will of Old Gold, the forced work by the will of their original legate to make 'the best doggos ever'. And the pain of knowing that Abel Angelus is dispirited. Usually that would break a Man.

Fortunately they are Devils. And like a Man can shake off the feelings of war by going in a new war. The Brotherhood can shake the tiredness of work with more work. Great work. Work that will save lives.

The Legate Gaius commands that there will be some great work that will protect the Clan. Was all the Brotherhood needed to go even further beyond.

So, with still dirt on their bodies from the digging they just did to clear a path, with the Builder still being hit by the effect of a curse that made him a 13th heavenstage by accepting said curse. They all beat their tiredness and move forward.

They rushed to where the Stargazers were located. After some days of double duty march, they finally meet once more the King Gaius.

"By your will, Legate. Will start now." the Second Builder said. Then the Brotherhood starts another day of work.

The members of the 13th brother crew moved urns, disk-wills. Working and preparing new corpses from 'mortal' members of the Brotherhood that failed to become cultivators and die from old age. The (second) greatest enemy of their family.

Those brothers under the 13th brother dedicated their whole lives for this kind of craft, to the point they use skulls of people they loved deeply as their helmets. That is, when said people die from one reason or another. So, one can say they are fanatics even compared to The Brotherhood 'usual' members.

Others members help in the ways they could. By giving resources and/or money from what they craft, and/or helping with their knowledge of (mortal) craftwork, or just by giving their Qi in big formations.

The Builder, as a 13th heavenstage, got the lion share of the work. His was the duty to finish the preparations to turn 'disk-wills' into these 'spheres-wills', the delicate transfer of the souls of dead brothers and ancient ghosts from the curse land. And the use of the 'Ghoststone'. To make the project to be far cheaper than it should. Far faster than it should. And far greater than the Builder could do.

To finish, the Builder built a 'Abel-class' computer to serve as a core for these spheres-wills when they were not in use. In the same way Abel made the way for 'the Brotherhood Heaven'. A place the wills/ghosts can share their information and become greater than the sum of their parts.

One can say they Built A Hell for their own. A place where the ghosts will train forever, a place they will fight forever. Fight even their own brothers. And share what lessons they learn until 'rank' and 'disparity' appears among them. In order to make the best soldiers possible.

This is a sacrifice the Brotherhood would gladly do to themselves. They will do everything to make a better future for the kids after all. That said some would say that 'Hell' looks, in action, like a Gu's jar probably means that The Brotherhood went too far.

—-

And that was that. Everything had come together perfectly, inventing a whole new sort of blasphemy which lay in front of them on that stone slab. Well, it wasn't like the Golden Devils could get cursed much worse than they already had been.

All the chemical compounds upon which a body was built had been constructed to perfection. All the valves and tubes, all the squirming, pulsing things, all the pressures and tensions which pulled the body every which way until it reached an equilibrium. All of it, arranged just so. The resulting contraption of flesh, brought into the world with all the things which would allow for life, did in fact live. But it only lived. With no soul, it could not form new ideas, new thoughts, and so thoughts would have to be inserted manually.

Housed in the chest, behind the lungs and in front of the spine, was a sphere of Gravebronze that would let this happen: a hollow vessel, connected to the brain by thin, flexible tubes which emerged from the back and plugged into ports in the skull. Into this sphere, a Will would be placed, alongside enough soul-stuff to stimulate a degree of independent thought. And as for the Will? The Ghoststone, such a fabulous little object, made the collection of weak Wills trivial, and had been brought into the possession of those strange brothers by the whims of fate. A perfect match, and a perfect template from which to base the Will-vessels of the Revenants.

Only one thing remained now: turning this vessel into a true soldier.

"W-we will now commence the testing of version 3.22 of the Ghoststone Revenant." Henrietta declared, wobbling on her feet and barely awake. A surprising amount of her skin and hair had gone green in just a few years, and the same could be said for Anacletus; the project had damn near killed them, but they seemed confident in the results.

"Let's hope this all paid off, shall we?" Gaius said, laughing nervously. "Trust me, I'm as nervous as you… well, almost."

He turned to the Builder and held out his hand. With his other, he pointed a finger at the Revenant's chest and cut it open with a thin beam of yellow light. "Everything should be ready to go. Give me a Will-Sphere, whichever one you wanna bring back first. If everything's working properly, they should be able to control the body and move around. And if that works…" Gaius loudly clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Then we do the fun part."

The start seems too weak. Dispirit. And when someone is about to raise their dead one should deeply focus on WILL and HEART. The new warriors were too ready to just wait for instructions. And like the fourth brother says 'the first impression is the one that lasts the longest'. Together with 'always make a show'.

So, with the Ghoststone in his hands the Second Builder start to (horrible) murder a song to bring his fallen brothers and sisters (including the new ones) to the appropriated state of mind/spirit.

A song of the land of Pleuron. Made by a former legend. A song no member of the Brotherhood could accept in their hearts gives the main idea in its verses. And a music that fills his family hearts with the need to fight that fate.

So the Second Builder starts to sing. Loud and Badly.

"No! Regrets." Who among his family can say this without lying?

That alone made the Revenant shake. And made the ghosts looking and waiting for their time to become sphere-wills to literally raise from the ghoststone.

"No! I will not have any regrets" more and more those new warriors shake. Some almost moved away from the formation (of ghost legionaries). Eager to fix some regrets. Or fight for the clan once more.

Gaius gave a deranged grin and nodded enthusiastically at the display. "That's it! That's the kind of can-do attitude we all need more of! Nobody gets it, nobody understands that fire that'll burn you alive if you don't keep going until you can't move! That's what makes you a winner!" With a snap of his fingers, he conjured up a flask of whisky and took a big swig. "It's a fucking party! A resurrection party!"

Given the implicit permission to continue. But still not given no instruction for them to move (since only Gaius can do that). The Builder continues to (badly) sing. And hit a key part that always. ALWAYS. Make any elder angry.

"All the things that went wrong" some of the new warriors start to raise even more. And even some ancient ghosts left the ghostones. These ones come from the cursed homeland. And they were eager to enter the new formation.

"For at last I have learned to be strong" the Revenant's months start to open wide in anger (even without the sphere-will). In denial since they all know where the song is going. New muscles strain the new body.

"No! No regrets" some ghosts start shaking their heads in a negative way.

"No! I will have no regrets" there is just too much to do. They will always feel regret.

"For Grief doesn't last" it certainly does. For centuries.

"It is gone" "NO!" some of the new warriors yelled to heaven in negative. They are finally breaking rank? Good. These are the frontliners. They must be the Fury.

"I don't have any limits, I never did!" Gaius shouted, continuing to rant as the Brotherhood sang. "These earthly vessels, this meat and blood, it's all just shackles! It's built around us to make us think we were ever human! The truth is, each and every one of us is infinite! I can do anything if I work hard enough! The entire Golden Devil people, I'll raise them out of this world! I'll give them a better one, I'll give them a hundred!" He continued to take swig after swig from the flask, getting louder and louder and prompting the Brotherhood to get louder in turn.

Now perhaps would be the time to shift the song. After all they were murdering it already.

"We will never forget the past" and now to truly (Break) where the music should go. Still just this new beat already made the new soldiers to stomp the ground following the ritme of the song.

"And the memories we have" they start to hit the soil with any weapon they had or was close by together with the beat of their feets.

"I have just a SINGLE desire!" and that. Is the core part of the Brotherhood. So much so that many sing the same verse without any kind of preparation. And was not that horrible to the ears.

"That is Both Good and Bad" and now each brother starts singing their own version. It should be beyond ugly. But it clashes less than it should. For in their core they were of one spirit.

"I will even throw myself in the fire!" and with that the Builder looks to Legate Gaius if they should march outside or not. The new soldiers looked to be eager enough.

Gaius extended his shaking hand toward The Builder, meeting his eyes with his own delirious gaze. "Please… please, give me the sphere. There will never be a time more perfect than this…" He breathed fast and heavy, as if he were sprinting, or perhaps suffocating. "Give it to me… the power to create life…"

And with that The Second Builder bowed and gave the Legate the 'Seed' (sphere) that certainly will grow (with love and fury) into a mighty tree.

Gently, gently, ever so gently, Gaius commanded the sphere to float into the Revenant's chest, guiding it until it connected with the little hollow spot behind the lungs. With a wave of his hand, the incision he had made in its chest closed up. The artificial human spasmed slightly and seemed like it might rouse right away, but soon fell back asleep.

"Come on… come on, wake up…" Gaius commanded, voice quivering. By this point, the two scientists had gotten very, very far away, wary of what might happen if this final attempt failed. "Wake up, buddy, it's your birthday. Stand at attention for me, would you?"

It rockets to a ready position, artificial muscles shaking with unrestrict desire. Eyes searching for any possible cannibal, enemy. Or someone bullying the young.

Gaius stumbled backwards, laughing. "That's one hell of a response time! You can understand me, right? You know what I'm saying?" The Revenant nodded in response. Gaius stroked his chin in thought for a moment. "But do you actually understand? What's nine plus seven?"

He glanced back at the Brotherhood, many of whom had once been peasants in tiny villages. "Okay, bad question. What is…" Gaius pointed at his esteemed guest. "That man called?"

Getting more calm, the relevant say "this is one in life sacrificed its name. This one was one among the crew of 'the eleventh Brother'. In death pehars this one should regain the name of Marius". "Also this one dies at the age of 89, this one knows the glory of Devil's Math. it should be ninety seven" then it blinks "no! sixteen".

The Builder shook his head, perhaps the training was too hard. If a number as small as that made his fallen brother fail. And the Brotherhood use numbers to call each other. So, he certainly knew a 'sixteenth' for example.

Still the new soldier has the spirit, the (angry) heart, and clearly knows that even in anger he should obey Legate Gaius. So far, this test is going great.

"Okay." Said Gaius, suddenly calm again, at least on the surface. "Okay, alright, we get to do the fun part after all!" Making a big, sweeping gesture with both hands, Gaius called forth all of the Will-spheres in the Brotherhood's possession, several thousand in total, and arranged them into neat rows. "Everybody get back, way back, this is gonna be big! 'S gonna take everything I've got!"

As all present scrambled to create an appreciable distance between themselves and The Empty King, the air began to ripple with a powerful heat haze. Gaius dumped massive torrents of qi into the air around him, gathering the light of the noontime sun and making it as dim as twilight for over a mile all around. Little motes of golden light clustered around each and every one of the Will-Spheres, growing brighter and brighter as they were shaped by Gaius' will.

Memorizing the structure of an object is a bit easier than truly understanding everything about it; that was one benefit of Stars of Gold; as long as he understood all of the parts and what they were made of, Gaius could create something if he had enough qi to do it. Human beings were, ultimately, made of parts in the same way machines were, and the Revenant had been designed to be anatomically simpler than humans, which made memorizing every nook and cranny easier still to do.

"We've got a model that works, which means we've actually got five thousand!" Gaius declared, crossing his arms at the wrist over his waist. "With the nine sacred keys I open the nine secret doors and unite the nine holy crowns in the name of the true King!"

He wobbled on his feet, nearly passing out from the exertion. Even as a Single Pillar Artist with the Blood of Bronze, putting 99% of one's entire qi supply into one technique was a foolhardy and painful thing to do. "May the winds of North, East, South and West bless this birth with fortune and victory! STARS OF GOLD!"

Flinging his arms wide, Gaius unleashed the full extent of the raw potential he had been building in one wave of creative force. All at once, the blinding light around the five thousand Will-Spheres took solid form, creating five thousand Revenants, all standing in formation. The Seeker's own technique knocked him over, leaving him flat on his back, gasping for air and soaked with sweat. Blood oozed from his nose and the corner of his mouth as he strained to raise his head and look upon his handiwork.

It would be hard to describe this sound. Maybe the 'sound of silence', for what you can describe the sound of the void? Five thousand Revenants breathing at once using the 'Builder Breathing styles' with bodies far stronger than any of them had in life shook the earth, made a wind of their own. But there was no sound. Because they took almost all the air so no sound could be made. The rising members of the Brotherhood used the first 'spark' of life of their own bodies to do something each and every single member of their family carries in their heart as their 'motto'.

They Breath Qi and start the 'Oasis Formation' to give their Legate their (tiny) power, their (tiny) stamina and their (tiny) regeneration.

After all 'One For ALL. And All for One' is almost their religious belief.

Feeling a bit of energy returning to his exhausted body, Gaius painfully hauled himself back to his feet, pushing away the hair that had fallen over his eyes. "Good. Yes, yes that's very good." He drawled with a satisfied smile. The intense mania that overcame him before seemed almost like it had been drained out alongside his qi, leaving behind a clearer perspective. "Nerds!" he shouted, prompting the two Centurions to run to his side and salute.

"Gather the medical corps, as many as we can spare. Line these new recruits up and give them all a checkup." Gaius paused for a moment to breathe deeply, still gathering himself. "Get 'em all processed, get the Centurions up to speed, all of that. Penny will help."

"A-and you, Sir? What do you want to do now?" Henrietta asked nervously, looking out warily at the crowd of identical Revenants.

"Take a fuckin' nap, that's what. Damn, why'd I do 'em all at once…" Gaius muttered, pointing at one of the Revenants. "You. Bring me back to camp. Put me in bed, have somebody leave food and water for when I wake up." His command given, Gaius promptly let himself pass out, falling into the Revenant's arms.

Marius, the new (temporary) leader among the Revenant, nodded to that. Carrying the King in his arms like he was his own beloved son. After being sure the Legate was secure he looked for the rest of the new warriors.

"Secure the Commander, continues the Oasis Formation until commanded otherwise by him" then he point at some of his brothers "you and you check if the Commander's tent for traps" then he point to another "you will find a living member of the brotherhood to make sure they eat some part of the food to check for poison"

The scientists look to that with some concern since that was not entirely what the King said. The Builder just followed the 'horde' of Revenants. To see their reaction and write a report of what they would do on their own.

He continues to watch while they start commanding the 'eternal aspirants' trying to secure a better bed which was an impossible task given the aspirant that made that one was a master craftsman and that was already his 'Magnum Opus' , better food (almost impossible) and trying to find (good) water. Still, the 'horde' of new warriors were taking the safety of their new leader with the same zeal that any member of the Brotherhood would show for their kids.

So, he did not fear any kind of (significant) problems. Everyone here was family.

The Curse in the Builder veins pulsed.

We ALL are.

—-

no.: This was a concept I was ruminating on for a while, and now I've finally made it a real thing. We've reached a point in the story where a lot of characters have an incredibly broken ability, and when you combine those things you get some insane stuff. The Revenants were a concept that went through a lot of iterations in my mind, just as they went through dozens of iterations to create an acceptable prototype in-universe. Them ending up looking like Neanderthals wasn't something I intentionally thought up; that's just the face I ended up imagining when I thought "if you designed a human head to be as durable as possible without removing any senses, what what that look like? Still, the idea of this artificial, "primitive" human looking like a literal proto-human ancestor ended up being quite thematically poignant.

Gaius and The Brotherhood occasionally resonate in their madness, which causes them to rile one another up quite a bit. The sheer exhilaration of having his legion fielding this secret weapon in the coming battles is also getting him very excited. Well, that and the fact that he might be about to die, so leaving behind a legacy as big as possible, and being there to see that legacy being left, matters to him.

This omake, in addition to that one scene in my previous one where Gaius creates a modern pistol out of thin air, are also here to demonstrate to the reader the sheer power and potential of Stars of Gold as a technique. It's not a do-anything power as it has some fairly straightforward and rigid limitations, but it sure can do a whole lot, and Gaius doing big, flashy displays of wizardry is something I enjoy writing a lot.
 
Side-Omake: Good Seed Generations
Side-Omake: Good Seed Generations​

In the 299th year of Grand Elder Konstantinos' reign, a window on the third floor of the Quintia Manor was left unlocked and slightly ajar - the window to Gaius Antonius' bedroom. The next day, it was closed, and Gaius thought nothing more of it. He suspected nothing, and went on with his day.

Two months later, copies of the following document were disseminated amongst the Elders of several nations, both Righteous and Demonic. There was seemingly no motive surrounding which factions did or did not receive the text, other than whether they were willing to pay for it.

——

After quite a bit of searching, I've found the good stuff. Ambrosian wine is the sort of thing that even Elders save for the most special occasions of all. It's not that it is some incredible cultivation aid though; it's just very, very good booze. The sort of booze that drowns you in a sea of nostalgia, wondering when everything in your life got so complicated and sad. The way I see it, the Quintia family's elders are sad enough already - so is every last old fucker in this Clan.

I ain't gonna be sad when I die. I've got nothing to regret. I'll know that I pushed ahead with everything I had, that I got as far as I could.

I can't remember my mother's face anymore.

Why am I writing a journal entry again? I haven't bothered with one of these in half a century. There had to be a reason, I know I had the damn book open before I started drinking.

But now, all I can think about is what a piece of shit I've become how long I've lived, and how many things I've seen. How many people I've known - amazing people, Good Seeds of the Clan who performed incredible deeds.

That's it, the Good Seed project! Proof that the Grand Elder planned the whole fucking thing from the start. He really is a mastermind, cultivating like a fucking snail because most of his qi is busy keeping his giant brain working. That's what I was gonna do, I was gonna leak this shit for a laugh before I died fighting some big tough shit chosen by Heaven.

…is it High Treason to leak this information to the general public? I mean, it's not like it's crucial stuff; just a list of new Cultivators the Clan has decided to keep an eye on in the past. Damnit, wait a second, I might actually get executed for this…

I have to go now, someone is at the door.

I've been informed that these records are fine to own one copy of, as they're currently outdated. However, making more copies or sharing this copy without permission is not allowed(fine by me, wasn't gonna do that in the first place). I won't ask how they knew I had a copy of them in the first place; I'm too drunk to care.

——

The point I wanted to make was to examine the heroes of the past with the benefit of hindsight. I realized a few things, and the most amusing is that we can group them into generations. These ain't generations in the sense of genetic descent, more like eras in miniature.

I'm not sure if any valuable insights can be gained by looking back into these records, but I was just so curious, and now I can't help but reminisce.

The First Generation

The first to awaken. The reversal of fortune. The trailblazers. These are the ones who taught us that it was okay to dream again; some say that the uptick in gifted children under the reign of Grand Elder Konstantinos was the result of a dark deal made with some great entity. Some say it was the beginnings of the Great Era coming to us before other peoples. Some say that a lecture given by the Grand Elder to the first class of new entrants upon the year of his induction cause some sort of ripple effect in fate itself.

Nowadays, the accomplishments of the First Generation in their early years don't seem like much, but we ought to remember they didn't have as much to work with as the later heroes did. It was they who cleared the dark forest ahead of us so that others could pave the roads.

Most of the First Generation are dead - that goes without saying, given the stretch of time - and most members that still survive to this day have grown into a mighty Clan asset. Some, on the other hand, have entered a sort of semi-retirement in Foundation Building - still cultivating, but no longer striving to grow with all their heart and soul. Those who chose to rest have earned that right.

No they haven't. I can't comprehend how anyone could live without yearning. It baffles me, truly.

The surviving First Generation Seeds recorded by the Good Seed program are:

Achille Adephos
Aliki Floros
Amaranth Castellanos
Anastasia Outi
Antonius Emmanuel Eneanora
Aretaphila Myia
Aristoteles Kalokagathos
Chrysanthos Krimta
Demetrius Ceres
Diomedes Cestus
Eirene Of Nowhere
Ferenike, who has no last name
Jin Muyi
Lihua Kokkinos
Magnus Centennius
Matthias Outi
Minervina Barda
The Ninth Prince
Rina Callista
Savvas Nicolidis
Wei Feng
Yan, who has no last name

There are less of them left than I thought. So many people I idolized as a boy are nothing but dust now.

The Second Generation

When was the next hinge point at which our history could have diverged many ways? Anyone could answer that question: the first trial under Konstantinos' reign, one that might have spelt our doom without a whole lot of sacrifice.

It went both very well and very poorly. Well because, by raw numbers, our population was only culled by 25%. There have been much worse Trials in the past, and considering we'd nearly bankrupted ourselves at the time, we did alright.

(That technique palace, people underestimate it. Over the past two centuries, how many Juniors won a fight they would have lots because they had a technique up their sleeve that the palace gave them? How many of those Juniors lived to become Centurions? How many of those Centurions won important battles? It adds up, and when I'm the Grand Elder, we're going to complete the fucking thing already I hope it gets fixed soon.)

The downside is that we lost most of our Elders. A fight with two Nascent Souls gone wrong, that's what's known for sure. There's a thousand different versions of the story, but most have one thing in common: the woman who would have been the Second Elder summoned a tribulation she wasn't ready for to defeat the enemy. In this moment of truth we saved ourselves, leaving room to grow in strength if we could survive the coming days.

At the same time, the Indomitable Thirteen took the stage of history. Thirteen Qi Condensation Cultivators; mere children in the eyes of the world at large. They had simply intended to do as much good as possible, but by chance they ended up gathering in the city of Pleuron, which became a crucial holding point.

If the Trial Hunters could break the city walls, then not only would the inhabitants be helpless against them, but the destruction of a crucial link on the supply chain would force many others out of hiding. Against all odds, these thirteen(with help from a couple of Experts) were able to repel the invaders, as the rules of the trial meant only Qi Condensation hunters could attack them, and the Foundation Building hunters were distracted by the heroism of Xiao Yi.

In the aftermath of this trial came the Second Generation; the ones who joined the Clan after it ended. The reaped greater rewards and grew faster than the First Generation. They took bigger risks and pushed Unorthodox Cultivation further. Some of them were the pupils and followers of First Generation Seeds - others just idolized them. In the Seventh Cannibal War, the Second Generation distinguished themselves in deadly combat time and time again.

I can see it, clear as day. I wore the same lamellar as anyone else. I hadn't won glory yet, not the sort of glory that makes people know your face before they've met you in person. I was just another Legionnaire; sometimes a sergeant leading a single squad, sometimes a scout operating on my own.

All that mattered was staying alive for one more day, then having some drinks with your comrades. No politics. No legacy. Where does the time go?


I was a member of the Second Generation; one hell of a time to be alive. Every decade was something way different from the one before, but it made us so strong. Goodness, did it make us strong.

The surviving Second Generation Good Seeds are:

David Pupillus
Gaius Antonius
Jiang Chrysanthos
Konstantinos(no relation) Papadopoulos
Maria, who has no last name
Mildgyð Galene
Paulus, who has no last name
Shennong
The Builder
Xiao Yingzi
Xiuying Ten Jiang
Zeno Angelus

Less of us made it here than I thought. Maybe because we saw more war early on than the First Generation did. Or maybe some of the comrades I thought were amazing has never been considered much at all. How is my wife not on here? She could beat almost all of these people.

The Third Generation

When the Seventh Cannibal War came to a close, Rina Callista left the battlefield to attend to personal business. She returned as the first recorded Single Pillar King in the Virtuous Flipper Region's known history. Now, a whole lot of history has been lost, and there's more out there that we don't know about than we do, so it's impossible to say if the Shining Hope was the first one the Region had ever seen.

Shining Hope, we really called her that. No wonder the lady became so closed off after her ascension; bearing so much, being the only one of her kind… names like that must have made it feel even heavier. It's easier to pull things off when you're inspired, but in all things there is equivalent exchange. Being the one who inspires others, with no one to inspire you? That's a lonely way to live.

From a geopolitical perspective, the end of the Cannibal War and the death or exile of every single member of the Battle Blood Cannibal Sect is the catalyst for the generational shift. It changed the numbers, started a period of economic and military growth, and set the stage for us Golden Devils to take the whole damn desert for ourselves.

From a spiritual perspective, the rise of a Single Pillar King and the revelation of a totally different path, a totally different way to cultivate? That shook things up something fierce, and some people believe it also rebalanced the cosmic scales.

Either way, the Third Generation of Good Seeds were not thrown into immediate conflict(save the next Trial, of course). They enjoyed peace, for a time, and were tasked only to grow strong. To greedily gather up as much power as possible, so that the Jingshen Clan would be laid low before their own economic power could be brought to bear and two more Nascent Souls uplifted.

The Third Generation sure did father power. They grew in strength faster than the First or Second Generations did, and when the time came, they put it to good use.

The Third Generation learned from the First and Second, and I personally have acted as a mentor in some capacity to several of them. I'm so old, the people I used to think of as kids are now the ones thinking of other people as kids. People I taught are teaching other people. What does that make me?

The surviving Third Generation Good Seeds are:

Abel Angelus
Armus Hekurion
Cao Wei
Carvos
Chang, who has no… last name? First name? I have no idea who this is. I have no idea who most of these people are
Constantine Nikeodemos
Helel Ben Sahar
Janus, who has no last name
Kakos Alexikeravno
Katha Theodoros
Lipita Delphi
Lipp Galanis
Liu Mang
Pleuron
Samson Murus
Victor Wulf
Yang Fangxu

The Fourth Generation

The Jingshen Clan were defeated in just eleven years.

This came down to a whole lot of things going right for us at once: we recruited another Nascent Soul to help us in the fight, we delayed the Jingshen Clan's plan to raise up two more of their own, and several crucial covert operations were conducted to tip the scales further in our favor. On top of that, the war up North suddenly got a lot more ugly than had been projected, leaving the merchant clan all alone.

But the thing is, if you were to ask "when did everything change?" Most people wouldn't start with "the Golden Devils gaining mastery over the entire desert". They would tell you about the Blood Mist and the Great Era.

I will speak no more of the Blood Mist. I've already told everything I know over and over again. The last time a man accused me of causing the Mist, I took his eyes. For the rest of my days, I will do the same to any man who says such things to me.

If I think about it I'm dead. If I wonder how many people would be alive if I were never born, I'll be finished for good. It doesn't matter, I'll probably die soon anyway.

All I will say is that the world changed. One in five Cultivators not already cursed by the Blood Path were overtaken by madness and ate other humans in a berserker rage, turning them to the Blood Path. Three Nascent Souls switched sides, and the entire Ma Clan became a Demonic nation practically overnight.

The Righteous Powers, who'd been getting their asses kicked for a century and were finally turning the tide, got their asses kicked even harder than before, and united closer together in response. As this happened, the Great Era began. The Chosen started popping up. In short, the Region changed dramatically all at once.

Anyone who says they know why the Great Era happened is lying to you. It was something seers and diviners had seen coming centuries in advance, but it suddenly sped up and came upon us in full force. People and animals are born bigger and stronger. Crops grow faster, giving out double or triple harvests on the regular. Qi is finally falling from the sky again in this dead sea.

The Fourth Generation is privileged. Not disparaging their character there, it's just objectively true. Qi Condensation cultivation is dramatically easier than it used to be, and natural treasures are forming at a higher rate. The Great Era is rather indiscriminate by nature; it's a blessing to the land itself, not to a people. The Righteous benefit more from targeted assistance, but everyone is breathing in the runoff.

Once again, the new generation grows faster than the previous one. Everybody slows down to a normal rate eventually, once they hit the Great Realm they're most suited for. For most so-called prodigies it's Foundation Building, but the truly gifted, those who defy the logic of what people are capable of, blast through the second Great Realm too.

What kind of future awaits the Fourth Generation? We're not sure. No world-shaking event that, in my view, would mark a new Generation, had happened yet. Their legend is still being written; same as the rest of us, I suppose.

The surviving Fourth Generation Good Seeds are:

Ajax Tripedes
Cerina Polya
Damocles, who has no last name but is noted to be the "Child of Oblivion"(Or maybe his family name is just incredibly ominous?)
Decimus Diakos
Flavius Eirenikos
Gabriel Pompeius
Golden Grizzly
Hou Siren
Jianjun Quan
Kyveli Zarali
Lexus Macer
Marcus Quinctius
Spiros Wan
Sun Ji (Wait a minute, this guy has the Earth-Gliding Technique? The genuine article, not one of the knockoffs? I need to meet this guy while I'm still alive!)
Tarun Acmonides
Zhong

I don't recognize any of these kids except Cerina - that's Katha's new favorite Junior. Other than that it's all strangers. The people I knew are being replaced one by one. The clothes that were in fashion in my day are tacky now. Little by little, I am losing the ability to recognize the society around me. I need another drink.

——

My head hurts. I don't remember writing most of this, and I'm not sure how long I slept. The missus is yelling at me from across the hall, says I missed something important. I'm never drinking Ambrosian Wine again. No wonder the Grand Elder's got such sad eyes, if he's been drinking that piss for eight hundred years.

Maybe I should destroy those journal entry. I could rip them out, turn them into photons and fire them off into the sky in a hundred directions, and then that would be that. It would be the right thing to do, in a security sense. Even if I have permission, I'm not gonna do anything with this info anyway.

…no. I promised myself, as a boy, that I would never destroy anything I wrote down, even if it was gibberish. Even if it's nonsense, it's still mine. It's therapeutic; I remember why I liked to do this. Goodbye journal, thanks for being here after all this time. Maybe I'll say hello again soon.

——


The document cuts off here, the point at which the hasty reproduction by hand ended and the invader fled.

——

I found it interesting how the Good Seeds can be roughly split into different generations, each of which grew under very different circumstances which determined their careers and the ways in which they developed. I wanted to write something exploring that in some capacity, so I vomited this out I guess.

To make this in-universe document more accurate, I wrote most of this while drunk, then cleaned it up later.
 
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Gaius Antonius 87 - The Mega-Powers Collide
Gaius Antonius 87 - The Mega-Powers Collide​

The burning sun scorched the slaves every day as they labored until their skin darkened enough to protect itself. That towering ziggurat, that monument to vanity, would never be complete; not in their lifetimes at least. The master's plans simply grew larger with time; more wings, more stories, more sub-basements.

If they had to tear down a wall they'd already toiled to build so they could expand further, they would do so. If they had to destroy their own meager homes and rebuild them elsewhere as the structure crept outward and crashed into the settlement around it, they would do so. There was nothing to say, nothing to argue or consider; just work or die.

If they ran, they died. If they fought back, they died. If they did not work fast enough, they died. The most primal and simple form of domination - this was what it meant to be weak.

Men of stone watched them at all hours of the day and night, never sleeping. If a slave was suspected of fleeing, their punishment was immediate. The only thing on the mind of the master and the servants she built was to keep the construction going, forever. For over sixty years, this was all they had known, and the people who remembered a life before they had been subjugated were outnumbered by far by those who did not.

This was New Olympia; or at least, the spot that one day would be.

——

It was foolish to run after all, thought Yingzi, as she gazed up at the stone soldier, towering above her and holding a sword and shield of similarly foreboding scale. She had hardly made it a hundred feet from the outer edges of New Olympia before she'd been spied and caught up to, and now she was going to die. Well, that wasn't so terrible, was it? Yingzi had already accepted the risk when she decided to make a break for it. With trembling hands, she brushed her long, dirty hair away from her face and tried to meet her killer in the eye.

Well, perhaps not the eye; the stone soldiers the master constructed in her ziggurat did not have human faces but heads carved in the shape of helmets. The half-circle crests on top of the helmets were painted in a variety of vivid colors, contrasting the beige sandstone that made up the rest of their bodies. The rest resembled the armor of Legionnaires, the soldiers Yingzi's grandfather had seen a few times in his youth, but bulkier. The weapons, she imagined, were the same way.

She detested these things so very much. All her life, they had wordlessly pushed her around, not even enjoying their work. They were totally brainless, and yet they were more important than the slaves of New Olympia, forcing them to work their bodies to the limit day after day. And now, another one of those accursed dummies was wordlessly raising its sword, about to bring it down and put an end to Yingzi's life. The young slave knew she would die at the hands of a stone man eventually, but at least for a moment, she had been able to dream.

Before the sword could come down, it was removed, destroyed by a bright, hot beam of light that lanced through the air with instantaneous speed. Half a dozen more followed, piercing through the artificial soldier until it fell to the ground, non-functional.

Letting out a high-pitched yelp and turning toward the source of that blinding barrage, Yingzi beheld a man in a big hat silhouette from behind by the sun, a light shining from the tip of his outstretched index finger. "Damnit, that was too many shots. Still gotta work on my aim." The man muttered, before looking down at the slave girl and offering her his hand.

Trembling with shock, Yingzi took the offered hand and was hauled to her feet. In a daze, she kept walking forward, not entirely convinced that any of this was real.

"Hey kid, don't you go nowhere!" The figure said, wagging a finger at her. "I've got some questions to ask, and it doesn't look like you'd be safe on your own."

Freezing in place, Yingzi turned back to the stranger who now controlled her fate. Though she dared not meet the man's eyes, she still took in his appearance. Green robes over a boiled leather vest, a big hat with a very wide brim, a sword at his hip - even if it weren't for that spell he cast before, there would be no doubt that this man was a Cultivator. He was tall too, but a bit too thin to cut a truly imposing silhouette.

"The name's Gaius, and first of all, I gotta ask, what are you fellas building all of… this for?" He asked incredulously, making a sweeping gesture at the ziggurat.

"We're building it for the master, and…" The slave trailed off, looking down at her feet. She desperately wanted to find some kind of answer that wasn't 'because we were told to', even though that was the only reason.

She started in place as a weight settled on the top of her head; a moment later, she realized it was Gaius' hand. "Taking away people's free will for no good reason… that's something I can't abide." He sighed. "Alright, easier question: what's your name?"

"It is what it is." Yingzi muttered rotely. "That's what dad always says. And my name's Yingzi."

"Doesn't have to be, if you've got the will." Gaius scoffed. "But who, precisely, is this 'master', little lady?" He asked, planting his hands on his hips and continuing to gander at the ziggurat.

"H-her name is Thalia Cethegus…" she whispered, checking all around her out of reflex. "But the Master hates it when we call her by her name."

"So this really is where Thalia Cethegus is hiding? We'd all been wondering where that lady had gone." The man in the big hat sighed, shaking his head. "This is so disappointing…"

"Then you know of the master? Of where she came from?" The slave asked, enraptured. She wished to tug at the newcomer's robes and beg for help, but dared not; what if this man was the same vindictive sort as the woman who ruled her world?

"Not personally; can't say I've ever met Legate Cethegus." The newcomer replied, squinting into the bright sunlight to gaze at the work camp and the ziggurat which towered above it. "Heard of her though. A Legate - that's a military rank - who took a bad hit to the dome from a warhammer in the war against the Jingshen clan. Severe brain damage, they said."

He pulled out a little paper cylinder and snapped his fingers, setting the end alight. He put the other end into his mouth and sucked on it, breathing in the smoke lazily. "One day, she got up from her cot in the medical tent and ran off. There's been a bounty out on her ever since. Desertion, dead or alive."

Something warm started stirring in Yingzi's chest. It was a sensation with of she was entirely unfamiliar, something… painful? And yet pleasant. No, it was so pleasant that it was painful. "Do you mean… do you mean you're going to get rid of her?" She said, lips moving of their own accord before she could think whether or not to speak. "That you're going to free everyone?"

"Should probably get more men and come back." Gaius muttered to himself. Crossing his arms and tapping his foot as he considered the young girl's words. "But… gah, if it's this fucked up, then I can't wait one fuckin' minute longer! I want to get this done right now!"

Yingzi wasn't sure what to say at this point. Could this man even save them? The master was strong - incredibly strong. It was hard to imagine anyone more powerful than her could exist. Perhaps she was just acting delusional, now that she felt the slightest bit of hope.

"Tell ya what." Gaius said after thinking for a while, planting his foot on the head of the fallen golem. "If you've got the name Yingzi, then you have to live up to it. I've met the person you're named after, and if you're gonna be using the same name, you've gotta be brave. I'll teach you how."

—-

Yes, right now. That sounded absolutely perfect. Qi surged through Gaius' body, gathering in his third eye, then lanced out in a focused, powerful laser beam. He blasted it into one of the spires sticking up from that architectural monstrosity, cutting through it from one end to another as if he were sawing through a tree. Soon enough, the spire collapsed, a hundred tons of stone collapsing to the ground with a thunderous clamor.

"Get out here, criminal!" Gaius shouted, cupping his hand around his mouth and imbuing his Dao into his voice. "We know you're in here! Deserting your post is a serious crime; if you've got any honor left, it's time for you to fess up!"

There was no sound for a moment, and then Thalia emerged, stalking out of the darkness of her ziggurat like a wraith. She blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the light, then turned to the source of the noise with a hateful glare.

The former Legate had certainly seen better days. Her hair was long and unkept, left deliberately unstyled so as to cover her head as much as possible, but even through the thick mane, a sizeable dent in the side of Thalia's skull was visible. She was festooned in all manner of colorful jewelry with no mind paid toward coordination, color theory or good taste, and her clothes were similarly over the top and eye-catching. The feathers of some massive bird stuck up from her collar, and Gaius had no idea where she'd gotten her hands on enough ultramarine dye, one of the rarest in the world, to color an entire set of robes. Upon her head was a towering golden crown from which great prongs stuck up into the air, adding nearly an entire foot to her height. She'd probably been beautiful, once, but whatever monstrousness had been brought out of her now surrounded her in an unsettling aura.

With jerky, furious motions, the renegade strode toward the invader of her town. "Who dares? Who vandalizes the palace of mighty Empress Cethegus? Who lays hands upon New Olympia?"

Yingzi yelped and clung to Gaius' leg, but he pushed her away, looking back at his target without fear. "Gaius Antonius, the Empty King. Sorry for the commotion, but I needed to flush you out."

Thalia's face twisted in surprise, and she furrowed her brow, struggling to think like a woman lost in a thick fog. "King? King of what? Or do you… ah, one of the Single Pillar Kings, that's right." With two fingers, she rubbed at the temple that hadn't been caved in. "You don't feel like a Core Formation Cultivator; that must be why."

"That's right, so you should understand that me coming here is a big deal." Gaius replied, gesturing for the deserter to approach him. "It's time to come home, Legatus."

Whatever momentary clarity Thalia had regained faded, as she sneered in indignation at Gaius' words. "Legatus? No, that's not right. I'm an empress, the empress of New Olympia!"

"You ain't an empress, Thalia. You're injured and confused." Gaius sighed. "You need to get that dome treated; just come along with me."

"You think to call me a mere general? A general does not construct such mighty works!" Thalia declared, gesturing back at her obscene sandstone palace. "Gaze upon it! Is it not beautiful?"

The ziggurat was, if nothing else, impressive in its size and complexity. This construction project had been ongoing for every day of the past sixty years, and the building had expanded every which way like the vines of some parasitic ivy. The central spire towered hundreds of feet into the air and was flanked by several smaller structures which stabbed upwards along with it, each a different shape than the last. The base was completely asymmetrical, having simply grown new wings like tumors in random spots. Balconies jutted out, some not even connected to rooms. A fountain haphazardly added to one corner sprayed water onto the side of a spire, and would no doubt cause said spire to degrade until it fell over within a few years.

Gaius rubbed his chin, looking from the ziggurat, then to the deserter, then back to the ziggurat, then back to her. Finally, he spoke up: "Yup, you've definitely lost it."

All fell silent. After a moment, the slave girl turned and ran at top speed, fleeing madly from certain death. Thalia didn't respond to that, or to anything else, for a moment, before Gaius' words seemed to fully sink in and her face twisted into an expression of rage. This served only to make her slightly mismatched eyes easier to see; one of them, presumably knocked askew by the same blow that left that dent in Thalia's head, pointed off to the side.

For all her rage though, the deserter's voice remained quiet for now. "Explain yourself, intruder. What do you mean I've 'lost it'?"

"You're completely delusional." Gaius said with a smirk, pointing at the side of his head and twirling his finger. "You need help; every Legate is valuable, so if you surrender now, we can help you recover. You'll probably have to serve out a sentence though."

"Serve out a sentence? Me!?" Thalia shouted indignantly, bits of froth in the corner of her mouth. "Who are you to punish the empress of New Olympia, who dwells in the greatest palace in the world?"

The Seeker sighed and threw up his hands. "Wouldn't be me, dipshit! It'd be the Dawn Fortress! Deserting during a war, enslaving a bunch of mortals for sixty years, making them do some bullshit public works project to inflate your ego…"

"I'll kill you…" Thalia muttered, grinding her teeth. "You come to my city, you humiliate me in front of my servants? The sentence is death! I will wind your entrails around the central spire of my palace and let the vultures feat on your flesh!"

"I can feel it more clearly the madder you get!" Gaius declared dramatically, hoping his posturing would give the slave girl enough of a head start to escape. He'd be sure to go pick her up after all of this was over with. "The hit to the noggin that jacked up your brain? It threw you out of alignment with your own Dao. You're infected with a Heart Demon, a big one, and it's just about ready to eat you."

"I'm sorry to tell you, but he's right."

Both of them turned to see the source of the new voice, a man standing atop one of the ziggurat's lesser spires. Thalia, already sick of these irritating comments, summoned the sand below into her hand, where it stretched out and solidified into a spear of stone. With the force of a siege weapon, she flung the spear at the interloper, who dodged the projectile, then bounded across several rooftops with blistering speed.

The new arrival, who came to a stop beside Gaius, was a shock of red against the sand around him. His changshan shirt and black slacks made him seem rather unremarkable at first glance, but one look at his finely polished red shoes would dissuade you of such a notion. The crimson tassel on the sword at his hip and the many decorative piercings on his face only furthered such a notion. This was a man who had a strong sense of personal style, but no desire to stand out; a strange combination. Or perhaps this man simply didn't want to wear his nice clothes in the middle of the desert, which Gaius supposed was also sensible.

His hair was cropped rather short and his face, while handsome, was not particularly noteworthy. Tall, but not too tall. Well-built, but not musclebound. If anything, this man's looks were the exact sort of above-average that made for wonderful spies, if you took out the piercings. What caught the King's eye more was the razor-sharp look in the strangers eyes, the deep scar running along the side of his face from temple to jaw, and the overwhelming, unconquerable confidence he gave off.

"My name is Shi Jiang, just a traveling Cultivator." The stranger answered, drumming his fingers on the scabbard of his sword. His voice was rougher than Gaius expected; the voice of a man always on guard and looking for danger, and thus a man who is always a little bit tired. "I was passing through when I found this awful place."

"Really? And what brings a fella like you to a place like this? Coincidence?" Gaius laughed. "You don't expect me to believe that, do you?"

"How about justice?" Asked the man in red, unfazed by Gaius' taunting. "Does that ring a bell, Devil? If you can believe it, I really am here to take down someone who deserves it."

"I don't believe it for a second." Gaius declared, poking the other man in the chest. "…but I do find you interesting."

The stranger grabbed Gaius' wrist and wrenched his hand away, steely determination in his eyes. "If that's enough that you'll fight by my side, I'll take it."

"Disregarding me like this…" Thalia growled, the seemingly bottomless energy of a Golden Core pouring out of her body and into the world around her as she began shaping several techniques at once. "How dare you two look down on me, in my own kingdom!?"

In a great ride, dozens of stone soldiers leapt across the shanty town and landed with a great clamor around the two warriors. A moment later, dozens more arrived in a second wave, then a third. When golems finally stopped appearing, there were over a hundred of them - Thalia's entire force, most likely.

"All of these, just for the two of us?" Gaius chuckled, opening his third eye and drawing his sword. "What are you so worried about, Legatus?"

"Tear them apart!" Thalia commanded with a sweep of her hand.

The golems came upon the pair immediately. These man made constructs were faster and more energy-efficient than naturally formed Earth spirits, but of relatively simple minds. Their creator's own muddled thoughts served only to make them that much more crude in the ways of their cognition. Nevertheless, they were quite strong.

Each and every one of the large stone soldiers, hand-crafted by Thalia in the heart of her ziggurat, was in mid-Foundation Building, and there were well over a hundred. That commanding so many powerful golems was possible for the former Legste in her current state spoke volumes about the strength she must have possessed prior to her injury.

Three stone soldiers fell upon Shi Jiang, and they came apart in the blink of an eye. He slashed into them with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for the Second Great Realm, and even Gaius couldn't tell exactly how many times his sword had been swung. When two more came upon him and were cleaved apart as well, the second series of swings was even faster than the first.

Without even turning around, Gaius pivoted on the ball of his foot, narrowly dodging a thrusting spear, and sliced the offending golem's head off before impaling its core. Then, with a wave of his hand, he fired off a volley of golden laser beams, bringing down several charging golems at once.

Then, the horde reached the pair all at once, and individual actions gave way to the chaotic flow of open battle. Bits of stone flew every which way as the two warriors brought their strength to bear, slashing and smashing through one enemy after another.

Shi Jiang leapt into the air over a crowd of golems and swung his blade dozens of times, each slash bringing forth a crescent of energy which carved through limbs and bodies and left deep grooves in the ground below. Landing on the other side of the now destroyed constructs, he dashed forward to meet more of them.

Gaius let loose a cloud of golden stars, which clung to his surrounding enemies before solidifying into black powder which stuck fast to their bodies and seeped into their joints. Twirling away from the scything blade of a halberd, Gaius struck his sword against a rock, which produced a spark. The nearest golem came apart with a sharp crack that shattered its body to pieces with minimal waste, and the resulting chain reaction took out a whole gaggle of them.

It was over in just a few minutes. Any clumsy, simplistic techniques the golems brought to bear were easily swatted aside or evaded entirely by the preternatural skills of the two champions. Though they may have been built by a Golden Devil. The constructs were seemingly too slow-witted to use the Clan's signature formations - perhaps the one thing that might have stood a chance.

If the racket before hadn't alerted the slaves that something was very wrong, then this massive brawl had certainly done so. With their overseers gone, many people abandoned their work stations to come and see what was going on. Some gawked out in the open, but most peered out from behind walls or through windows.

Thaila's jaw clenched until it seemed like she would shatter her own teeth. Veins popped up in her face and neck, making the dent in her skull look all the more grotesque. If the qi swirling in her body had been a hailstorm, before, it was a typhoon now. "You would really go this far? You would disrespect me this much?"

Damn, maybe Gaius had fucked up; Thalia had been in Late Core when she was wounded - hence her disappearance being such big news - and while she had slipped by at least one Small Realm after messing around in the middle of nowhere for sixty years, her qi was still incredibly dense. It was like looking into the ocean and trying to perceive the bottom.

Perhaps one more shot at diplomacy, then? "I don't mean to disrespect you, ma'am, but you're out of control. This is your last warning, so think long and hard on it." Gaius said calmly, sinking into a low, defensive stance and waiting for whatever came next.

"...you're dead." Thalia said, cold and quiet as the grave. The deserter's leg went up, and up, and up, before coming down in a mighty stomp that shook the earth around her and blasted sand into the air. With a shout of fury, she sprayed fire from her hands, turning the sand into a wide, indiscriminate blast of glass shards.

Gaius threw up the Aegis to block the attack, and even an unfocused, area-of-effect attack from a Core Formation Cultivator of this caliber nearly broke through it. Shi Jiang changed. Gaius couldn't say exactly how he changed, but immediately, something around him seemed to shift, and he dodged the entire spray, body swaying and shifting so fast it was hard to follow.

Gaius and Shi Jiang approached simultaneously. He'd never fought with this strange fellow before, but basic group fighting tactics were something every Devil understood. How to not hit your squadmates, how to best utilize superior numbers, how to overwhelm the senses of a more powerful enemy by attacking in tandem; that was second nature to a Devil.

Shi Jiang sliced at the air as he rushed in, assailing his enemy with crescent-shaped bursts of sword qi. Thalia Drew forth another sandstone spear from the earth and deflected them all without much difficulty, but the momentary distraction was enough to cover Shi Jiang's attack. The two exchanged a series of blows, and Thalia was shocked to find that a foe from a lower Great Realm was keeping pace with her attacks. She was the clear superior in strength, however, and Shi Jiang's close range attacks could do little more than stall for time.

"Out of the way!" Gaius shouted, and Shi Jiang fell back a few steps without asking why. A powerful, focused laser beam blasted out from Gaius' third eye, striking the deserter in the chest with the sound of sizzling flesh. She took a single step back, and Gaius seized that opportunity to attack. He couldn't go at the same insane pace as Shi Jiang, but with his foresight, he could lead his opponent into patterns, striking in ways that influenced her into making moves he could deal with.

That still wasn't enough. Deflecting Gaius' assault, Thalia struck back with dozens of blows that would have landed had he not already foreseen them. Soon enough though, one made it through - a straight punch which crashed into a hastily-raised forearm, causing Gaius' bones to creak and throwing him backwards.

Shi Jiang returned to the fray and sped up even more, zooming past Thalia in straight lines several times while she was distracted, landing shallow cuts which bled sluggishly if they bled at all. Thalia whirled around with another sandstone spear to meet his next charge, which he narrowly avoided, bending his body backwards to slide under her sweeping blow. The low kick which followed it knocked Shi Jiang's feet out from under him, sending him bouncing along the ground as he lost control of his own momentum momentarily.

Having created some distance from her two attackers, Thalia gathered a typhoon of qi into her foot and raised it high. "Hurry up and die already!" She shouted, stomping her foot and unleashing a shockwave which tore through the ground in front of her.

Leaping over the wave of force simultaneously, the two warriors landed on a pair of ramshackle roofs next to one another. Shi Jiang channeled a stream of qi into his sword, which began to glow with a vibrant violet light, and turned to Gaius. "The enemy is in Core Formation; not a weak Core either. Do you have anything that'll stand up to her?"

Gaius scoffed, summoning a disk of golden light beneath his feet. "I'll be just fine; worry about yourself, hotshot."

Shi Jiang scowled down at their mutual opponent, thinking. "We can't take her individually. We need a plan."

"Hard to make a plan when we don't know what she can do yet!" Gaius laughed. "Gotta see all of her best moves before we make a plan."

"Indeed." Shi Jiang nodded. "Let's err on the side of caution for now."

That moment of respite had not only aided them, but also gave Thalia time to prepare several more techniques. Exhaling a mighty breath, she blew into the sand beneath her feet, kicking it up all around her in a radius over fifty feet and making a beige cloud far too thick to see through. As Gaius flew around the cloud on his disk looking for an angle to attack from, and Shi Jiang ran around it doing the same, another torrent of qi, the largest yet, was easily felt.

A bright red glow lit up deep within the cloud, and even from outside, both men could feet the temperature skyrocketing. They retreated, but not fast enough, as a gigantic explosion of flame blasted the cloud of sand in every direction, flinging countless tiny, superheated glass shards in all directions. Gaius threw up Aegis shields; dozens of thin, ablative laters to fend off this massive barrage. Shi Jiang, on the other hand, simply sped up even more. Sprinting, rolling, deflecting, he did everything he could to endure the attack, but nonetheless was cut over and over. Each hit was superficial, but in aggregate they left the ground below him stained as crimson as his shoes.

While Gaius was busy defending from one direction, his opponent was already attacking from the other, stabbing at his back with another spear. In the instant before the impact, his superlative senses realized what was happening and told him what to do. This meant that, rather than being outright impaled, he merely had a chunk of flesh gouged from his back as he dodged at the last possible instant. But even though he saw the next move coming - a left handed straight punch - there was no course of action that would let him prevent the hit and fend off the glass at the same time while still turning around.

Thalia's iron-hard fist crashed into Gaius' solar plexus like a meteor, making him crash into his own shield, which broke. The last few projectiles of Thalia's previous technique stabbed into his back, pitching him forward into the spear. Reacting immediately to Tabula Rasa's suggestions, Gaius opened his mouth and bit down on the stone as hard as he could, momentarily halting the attack long enough to raise his hand. The one with the summoning ring.

A five hundred pound fish moving at about two hundred miles per hour teleported into existence right in Thalia's face, slamming into the renegade and smashing her into the wall of the ziggurat. Without skipping a beat, Gaius spat out the sandstone spear, turned it around and flung it before diving into the ground. Thalia pummeled Scylla's side with crushing blows until she relented her grip on the renegade, then caught the spear before it could hit her.

As the Rainbow Carp fell to the ground hacking up blood, Shi Jiang used her body as a springboard, launching a flurry of blows that was hastily blocked. Before Thalia could turn the tables on Shi Jiang, Gaius emerged from below, attacking with a spear, then a hammer, then a sword, changing the form of the Dream Sword with every swing.

Slowly, shots began slipping through, landing glancing blows against the ex-Legate. Finally, Shi Jiang ducked under a sloppy counterattack, parried a second, and spun, slamming his heel into his opponent's face and cracking her head against the wall she was pinned to, causing it to finally cave in. Thalia gave ground, slowly backing into a room that, judging by the decor, was some bizarre combination of a wine cellar and a guest bedroom.

But Thalia was utterly unrelenting; her blows came nearly as often as her two opponents' combined, and she could keep this up for a lot longer. Stomping her foot, she called forth a wall of sand, then lit her hands on fire and struck the wall with her palms, creating a spray of burning glass which assailed the pair. Leaping above them before her first attack had even subsided, she threw another sandstone spear that detonated on impact. Too busy avoiding and batting aside the first attack, they were left vulnerable to the second, which blew them away and kicked up another cloud of sand.

One technique continued to flow into another. With smooth, circular motions, Thalia spun the sand in the air into a whirling, miniature sandstorm, with which she scooped up her opponents and slammed them into the ground. Forming two more sandstone spears, the renegade leapt after her opponents, preparing the final blow for both of them at once.

Unfortunately for her, Gaius had many tricks remaining up his sleeve. In that moment, a pair of huge jaws snapped shut around the renegade Devil, whipping her around before flinging her through several houses. The transformed Scylla, several times larger and positively radiant in her monstrous majesty, bellowed out a roar of challenge before flying after her opponent, spewing liquid fire.

For a few precious seconds, the two men lay there, breathing heavily and silently commiserating in the pain of their wounds, before quickly pulling themselves together.

"That should buy us a minute or two." Gaius sighed, sitting up and plucking a tooth out of his mouth. "Don't wanna leave my sister alone for too long though; she may be a Sacred Beast, but she ain't a real Core."

"I suppose it's time to stop playing, yes." Shi Jiang replied, resetting a broken finger with a grimace and wiggling it experimentally.

"Playing, you say?" Gaius asked, raising an eyebrow

"Yeah; there's playing and then there's making war." Shi Jiang explained, one hand raising up to his ear. "As long as that boundary isn't crossed, you can call it all off and say it was just an exchange of pointers - no point holding a grudge."

"Oh? So you're saying Miss Thalia's crossed the line now, not before?" Gaius chuckled.

Shi Jiang nodded curtly, not getting the joke. "Negotiation was a possibility before, but against this much lethal force, I have to neutralize her for my own safety. I don't have ways of non-lethally defeating a Core."

Gaius grinned savagely, the Dao Emanations around him thickening by an order of magnitude. "You get more interesting by the minute. Show me."

"You show me yours, I'll show you mine."

"Deal."

"Eye contact is burning, eye consciousness is burning. Spring Forth, Dao Vestment!"

A cream-colored, metallic substance bubbled up from Gaius' pores, spreading across his skin in a thin layer of solid, spiritual armor. With a flex of his will, Gaius destroyed most of his clothing, leaving him exposed above the waist and below the knees. The skin of his back bulged grotesquely, then ruptured as a pair of huge, eight-foot wings burst forth. Additional bright blue eyes emerged out from the middle of his chest and back, and in rows across the tops of his wings.

"Code Red. Emergency Protocol 777 Engaged. Wake up, Eternal Raiment."

Shi Jiang flicked one of his earrings, which rung out in a sharp, clear note like a bell. One part at a time, the very world itself unraveled around Shi Jiang's body, before coming back together and leaving him clad in armor of gleaming silver. It encased him completely, covering his mouth in an oddly shaped mask with vents on either side, and his eyes with a pair of oblong lenses. The armor glowed from within, red light seeping out from between the seams.

As Gaius had predicted, his companion was not holding up well in a one on one fight. Though Scylla's huge size and various advantages were affording her some success against Thalia, this was not some amateur Early Core she was dealing with, but a true veteran on the verge of Late. Even with her faculties addled by her mental impairment, Thalia was not an opponent she could overcome head to head.

Nimbly dodging beams of light, a spray of Dragonfire and a tail-whip that turned a pair of ramshackle homes into nothing but splinters, Thalia stabbed her massive opponent with a sandstone spear, then detonated it, blowing out a chunk of the colossal fish's flank. When Scylla whipped around and tried to bite her, the renegade jumped over Scylla's head and threw another spear, this time destroying one of her fins. Scylla again tried to tail-whip Thalia, but the renegade caught the False Dragonfish's tail, the momentum pushing her nearly ten feet before she came to a stop. With all the strength she could muster, Thalia spun Scylla around, slamming her into one of the ziggurat's spires and collapsing it on top of her.

However, before she could continue the attack, Thalia found herself assailed by a spray of hundreds of diamond needles, which she blew away with a mighty breath. She was less successful against the waves of Sword Qi, which bit into her arms and chest, staining her gaudy blue robes with blood and turning them the color of wine. Immediately after came the laser beams, far more numerous than before; too numerous to defend against. They burnt her flesh, individually doing negligible damage but very painful when added up.

Simultaneously, Gaius and Shi Jiang came upon Thalia. Shi Jiang's blows were faster and more powerful than Gaius', that strange silver armor making his previous blistering physicality look like nothing. Gaius' attacks, however, came from every possible angle; he flew around the enemy in circles, dive-bombing her at unpredictable angles or attacking from out of her melee range by transforming his Dream Sword into a twenty foot long pike. The chaotic, clamorous melee proved much harder for Thalia to deal with than before, and she rapidly gave ground, battered by blow after blow and accumulating more small wounds.

With a cry of frustration and rage, Thalia stomped the ground again, harder than she ever had before, and unleashed a shockwave which blew all three of her enemies back. They skidded to a stop a few hundred feet from the ex-Legate, bringing the battle to a momentary halt.

"What the hell are you two!?", the former Legate called out, a mix of vitriol and apprehension in her voice.

"Stick around, Senior. Maybe you'll learn something." Gaius sneered, cracking his neck and stretching out his wings. New sensory information, over an order of magnitude more than before, resonated through his body and shot into his brain like a typhoon of data.

The surface of his skin picked up sonic vibrations with the sensitivity of an eardrum. He could taste the minute fluctuations in the qi in the air as it brushed up against his tongue. He smelled the telltale scent of ozone from the electrical signals sparking through the brains of every person nearby. It was enough to drive a man mad.

"Let's get this over with." Shi Jiang declared, drawing symbols in the air with his finger and leaving behind a trail of light that soon formed an array. He finished it off with a circle, then reached in and drew forth a weapon.

Cylindrical, with a thick, study handle designed for two-handed firring, with a barrel that grew wider as it went from the handle to the end.The amount of contained power within the barrel of the weapon was staggering - Gaius wasn't quite sure how much was loaded in there, or how it had been packed in so tight. It resembled a small qi cannon, nearly six feet in length and weighing at least forty pounds. A weapon miniaturized to the greatest possible extent, yet still awkward and unwieldy. Shi Jiang slung the cannon diagonally across his back, where it stuck fast to the silver.

Thalia had all three of them significantly outmatched in toughness and endurance. Gaius wasn't sure how much damage that fancy armor of Shi Jiang's could take, but the man inside was still in Foundation Building, and no armor stopped 100% of all damage. She could also prepare multiple techniques simultaneously and launch them in rapid succession with no delay in between; a benefit of a true Golden Core. That was an advantage that no amount of raw power could overcome, and made the gap between the second and third Great Realm harder to cross than the one between the first and second.

She was more hurt than them, but they were firing on all cylinders to press her like this. Given enough time, they would exhaust themselves, while she would still have half her reserves remaining. Even discounting that, her queueing up of techniques meant she could capitalize on their mistakes in a way they couldn't on hers. A war of attrition would kill them, and a blitzkrieg might do the same.

'Might' was a hell of a lot better than 'would'.

"We have to keep it up. Gotta throw everything we've got while we got it." Gaius muttered, coughing as he got back to his feet and wincing as he discovered another of his ribs had cracked. That made four so far.

"Right. A simultaneous attack with overwhelming force." Shi Jiang's voice was distorted, magnified so it could be heard but still warped from bouncing around the inside of his helmet. Gaius also noted with some jealousy that the dust and sand didn't seem to be affecting Shi Jiang the way it was him. "How nostalgic."

"Hm? What do you mean?" Gaius asked, stretching his wings and preparing to take flight again.

"Doesn't matter." Shi Jiang said coldly, face unreadable behind his helmet.

"Man, can't you be a little more friendly?" Scoffed Gaius.

As if in defiance of that comment Shi Jiang punched Gaius in the arm a little bit too hard to be called friendly. "We're fighting for our lives here, can't you take this seriously?"

"Who the hell is this guy?" Scylla cut in, interrupting the pair's bickering, and Gaius realized that at some point, she had reverted back to her usual form. The two turned to her simultaneously, making her back up a bit. "I, uh, could really use some context. You just said 'get out here and kick some ass!' and I did that."

"He's uh…" Gaius began, glancing around as he considered what to say, before spying several large projectiles arcing toward them. "Ah shit."

Normally, he would throw up a large dome here, but as the oversized sandstone spears splintered mid-flight into hundreds of pieces of shrapnel, he saw exactly the path each one would take. With both hands, he flung fistfuls of stars, each one becoming a tiny shield which blocked a single piece of shrapnel without wasting any energy at all.

Then Thalia was there, and then Shi Jiang was there, and then they weren't. By the time Gaius reacted and turned to the commotion, his ally of convenience had already blocked an attack meant for him and been tackled off into the distance. With a mighty flap of his wings, Gaius followed after the two.

"Damn they're fast! How is an Expert moving that quick!?" Scylla asked, flying alongside Gaius and summoning a dozen Flying Swords made of fire, which began to orbit around her body.

"Dunno!" Gaius called out, changing the Dream Sword into a lance and routing qi into the eyes atop his wings. "He's Twelfth Heavenstage, I can't feel him that well! More importantly, kill that bitch!"

"Aye aye, brother!" Scylla cried out joyfully, charging into the fray despite her wounds.

Shi Jiang and Thalia zoomed this way and that, moving fast enough that they were nearly a blur, but Gaius could see the trajectory of their movement just fine. Dozens of phantom images split off from them, each one moving a few seconds ahead of their real counterparts and representing a way they could move. Before Scylla reached them, he narrowed it down to the most likely possibility.

The instant Shi Jiang, reeling from a direct blow to the head, backpedaled, he fired, unleashing a dozen laser beams at once from his wings and several more in quick succession from his off hand. Thalia saw the glinting right before the beams fired off and pre-emptively dodged, but several more still struck her. The sharp pain made the deserter falter and stop charging, and in that moment Scylla's blades of fire fell upon her. The projectiles were deflected, but then came Scylla herself, turning sideways to chomp down on Thalia's entire body.

As expected, not even that attack landed cleanly. Thalia's arms came up, stopping the Rainbow Carp's bite before it could snatch her up entirely. The fangs bit deep into her arms, but she held fast, forcing Scylla's mouth open and slamming her into the ground. Then came Shi Jiang again, sword flashing like lightning. Thalia batted the strike aside, but before the melee could begin again, she stomped on Shi Jiang's foot, causing the sand below to become sandstone shackles and hold his feet together.

With his footing disrupted, Shi Jiang's next strike went wide, and Thalia jumped taking that moment not to strike her vulnerable enemy, but to throw a sandstone spear at Gaius, just as he was about to shoot his laser beams again. Gaius had seen this coming - in fact, he had charged a shot just to make Thalia preemptively attack him. He threw up the strongest shield he could, which took both the spear and the bone-rattling explosion that followed soon afterwards, but was unable to stop himself from being flung away by the momentum.

As that occurred, Shi Jiang broke the shackles on his ankles and attacked again, this time joined by Scylla, whose blasts of fire created openings for the silver-clad warrior's blade to bite into his opponent over and over.

Once more, they fell into an absolutely exhausting rhythm. Thalia did her best to separate the group, to stop them from launching simultaneous attacks, to make them waste their strength on ineffective attacks. Her opponents, in turn, changed their tactics with every exchange, slamming Thalia over and over with all the force they could muster. Every fighter involved racked up wounds one after another; cuts, bruises, cracked or fractured bones. More houses were torn up, more spires upon the ziggurat fell like trees, and all the while, the cannon on Shi Jiang's back sat untouched.

Eventually, the balance began to shift, as the comparatively meager endurance of the three invaders started to flag. Gaius attempted to relieve Shi Jiang once more, but his wings did not beat with the strength they had previously, causing his altitude to dip and his laser beams to miss. Shi Jiang, his relentless attacks finally starting to slow down, fell prey to a feint from Thalia, who made him raise his guard before slamming a spear into his midsection and detonating it. Shi Jiang became an armor-coated missile, slamming into Gaius and knocking the wind out of them both. The pair slammed into the ziggurat's main spire, which rumbled dangerously but did not quite topple, then fell.

Thalia was beneath them right away, frothing with rage and bloodlust. She stomped the ground, solidifying the sand beneath the falling duo into a field of long, sharp spikes, then drawing forth another spear for good measure. But before she could execute Gaius and Shi Jiang, Scylla swooped in, spraying a wide cone of Dragonfire(mixed with a not insignificant amount of blood) down at the deserter and making her dodge away. A bit of it still caught Thalia on the shoulder, roasting her flesh and setting fire to her hair, which only made her angrier.

The Rainbow Carp caught the pair, narrowly dodging one spear before another blew off her left fin. Roaring in pain, she spiraled out of the sky, but caught herself right before she would have hit the ground. Gaius and Shi Jiang unsteadily got off her back, no longer stunned from the previous blow.

Thalia had halted the attack for a moment, summoning forth waves of sand to smother the persistent, clinging flames of Dragonfire. She screamed in frustration, lobbing curses and insults at the pair. Where once she had seemed like a regal, if utterly insane, presence, now she was little more than a vicious wounded animal.

Frankly, the other three combatants didn't look much better. Gaius would need three, maybe four hands to count the number of broken bones he had, and maintaining his Dao Vestment for so long made his head throb with intense, stabbing pain. Shi Jiang's injuries were harder to assess, but his qi supply was running even lower than Gaius', and his once pristine armor was cracked, dented and warped all over the place. In his midsection, blood was seeping through the silver plates, where a blow had finally penetrated all the way through. Scylla was doing the worst of all. Impaled in several places, missing two fins and half a dozen teeth, and no doubt suffering many internal injuries as well, her body served as a marvelous demonstration of the incredible resilience of a Sacred Beast.

"That was my last shot." Scylla stated, quite matter-of-factly given the circumstances. "I don't think I've ever totally run out of juice before."

"I've got about a minute to go before I can't keep the armor on anymore." Shi Jiang admitted.

"I don't think I can keep this form up much longer either." Gaius replied, rolling his neck. "Not fighting at this speed. Gotta let up soon."

"Thankfully, I think we've done enough." Shi Jiang noted, finally unslinging the cannon from his back. "She's weakened enough by all those injuries that I think I can get a shot off."

"Then let's get this shit over with." Scylla declared with utmost finality.

Jumping onto the Rainbow Carp's back, Gaius and Shi Jiang rode her as she charged back into the fray, the three clustering together so they couldn't be separated. Thalia stomped the ground, unleashing a shockwave which forced Scylla to fly higher into the air. She continued her advance, dipping back down and dive-bombing the deserter and roaring as she went. Thalia summoned a sandstorm, but Scylla countered it with her own conjured storm before pushing through. Thalia threw large exploding spears one after another, peppering the trio with shrapnel, but Gaius warded all of it away.

Gaius kicked off of Scylla and attacked Thalia head on, up close. The dream sword flashed between one shape in another, blows falling like rain, but nothing connected. Too exhausted to fight with his usual razor-sharp focus, Gaius faltered before the sheer difference in physical performance, and was pushed back on the defensive by a spear stabbing into his wrist and making him drop his weapon. That was fine though, a few moments were all they needed.

As Gaius fell back, Shi Jiang brought the gun up, but it was knocked aside by a spear as Thalia closed the distance. Sweeping Shi Jiang's legs, Thalia spiked his head against the ground with a throw, then kicked him in the chest as he rebounded, knocking him across the shantytown. Then, with a lightning-fast roundhouse kick, the ex-Legate spun and struck the charging Scylla in the side of the head, sending the fish through a nearby house.

Seeing his chance, Gaius capitalized. In a huge expenditure of power, the King summoned forth a construct of light, a massive armored arm which reached out at Thalia. The moment the hand closed around her body, pinning her in place, Gaius sent for a second wave of qi, turning the light into solid steel and holding the former Legate fast.

Roaring in defiance, Thalia burst into white hot flames, so hot they were nearly plasma, softening the metal in seconds. With a mighty flex, she burst out of her weakened bonds, half-molten metal flying every which way, and turned to Gaius, ready to go on the attack. However, those few seconds in which Thalia had stopped moving were all that was needed.

Zooming in at a speed more intense than any Gaius had seen from him before, the silver-armored figure of Shi Jiang collided with Thalia the moment she broke out, pressing the barrel of his cannon to her chest.

It was the sort of sound that's so loud it's silent. The air shattered with incredible force at the end of the gun's barrel, drowning out not just noise, but thought as well. The flash was bright too, of course - not a coherent beam so much as a massive explosion focused in a wide cone, an incredibly wasteful use of power. Thalia came apart; how could she not?

Shi Jiang was flung away by the recoil of his own weapon, slamming into the side of the central spire and making a sizable crater in the stone. The renegade's torso simply was not there anymore, and her limbs, head and smaller bits of flesh rained down all over the square.

Contrary to popular belief, the death of a hated tyrant does not immediately provoke an explosion of cheers. There were a few right away, to be clear, but a vast majority of the slaves were still in hiding, either in their homes or in the ziggurat, and would not come out for some time without prompting. Mostly, it was just silence, the only thing Gaius heard being the roaring of his own blood behind his ears, slowly winding down after the climax of the battle. His Vestment sloughed off like dirt in a bath, leaving his senses blissfully.

"And that's that." Shi Jiang muttered, extricating himself from the crater he'd made with his back and falling before landing on his feet with a clank. "Eternal Raiment, Release." He commanded, prompting his armor to warp away in the same odd manner it had appeared. Unburdened, he summoned his sword, sheathed it, and walked away from the square.

"That's one scary gun you've got there, metal face." Gaius chuckled as his ally of convenience reached him, reaching out to run his fingers across the weapon. Shi Jiang jerked away immediately, pulling his weapon away and raising his other hand. With another series of hand signs, he immediately banished the weapon back to wherever he pulled it from before.

It wasn't until the deed was done that Shi Jiang allowed himself to speak again. "It's not bad, I suppose." The Expert said quietly, expression guarded. "Gets the job done when nothing else will."

The Empty King looked Shi Jiang up and down, trying to get something else out of the man in red. He might be able to glean more if he were in his Dao Vestment, but if Gaius used that form any more today, his head might literally explode.

He took a few steps closer to this enigma, hoping to get a rise out of him. "So, how was that 'justice', Shi Jiang? Did you enjoy enacting it? Or are you going to tell me the truth?" He asked sarcastically from a mere eight inches away.

Shi Jiang scoffed and walked away, not rising to Gaius' provocations. "It wasn't a lie; I really did want to do that for it's own sake. I'm glad you led me here."

Gaius snorted, crossing his arms. "So you were following me then. Can I expect to see you again, Jiang?"

Shi Jiang's eyebrow twitched, and Gaius could faintly hear his teeth grinding. "We are not on given name terms, Antonius."

"Aww, don't call me that! I know a guy whose first name is Antonius, it's gonna get confusing!" In a flash of movement, Gaius pinched one of the studs above Shi Jiang's eyebrow and pulled him closer, only to receive a lightning-fast blow to the chin.

The Empty King stumbled back a step as his brain rattled around, then sunk into a defensive stance. "Oh? We doin' an encore, you little bitch? Wanna exchange some pointers?"

"You're annoying, really annoying." Shi Jiang scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning around. As he walked away, the stranger spoke a few more words over his shoulder. "And yes, you will be seeing more of me in the future. For now though, we're good."

It was probably for the best. Gaius knew that once the adrenaline of a life or death battle faded, he would be too tired to do much more than walk. Both men were breathing heavily, drenched in sweat and blood.

Casually throwing his sword, the heavily-pierced man tapped his foot impatiently for a few moments as it went off on some errand. He tapped his foot impatiently for a few moments of awkward silence, then held his hand up high and summoned the weapon back. The flying sword returned, this time with a satchel hanging by the strings from the sword's hilt.

As Shi Jiang took his bag and walked away, another person approached Gaius - the young girl from before. He was surprised that Yingzi had come back, rather than just continuing to run. Had she had that much faith in their victory?

And yet, she didn't seem that happy, even though the criminal who had enslaved her was dead. Tears poured from the young girl's eyes, and she fell to her knees at his feet. "I wasn't brave, even after you told me to be." Yingzi sobbed, unable to meet Gaius' eyes. "I ran as soon as she got mad."

"Nah, but you were braver than you were yesterday." Gaius said with a shrug. "That means more than you think."

"I won't get another chance. That was my once chance to impress you." Yingzi shook her head, scattering her tears into the sand beneath her. "I'm just a slave. I'm not worth looking at at all."

"Maybe not…" Gaius said, more to himself than to the girl kneeling at his feet. Yes, it was definitely there, more clearly visible now that it wasn't being smothered by proximity to a Core Formation aura. "Go to your house, if it's still standing. Grab anything that's important to you."

That certainly broke the young girl out of her moping, at least momentarily. She looked around in confusion, as if Gaius had been talking to someone else. "Eh? U-uh… yes Sir?" She stammered, and when the King said no more, she scampered off.

And this was why slavery was never worth it; mountains of human potential would be buried underneath the institution, never to see the light of day. That girl definitely possessed the capability to cultivate; in fact, she was rather talented. He'd have to stop by the Dawn Fortress and get her registered.

At some point in all of this, Scylla had dragged her sorry self out of that rubble she was buried in, looking quite unhappy with the entire ordeal. She sulked quietly, loitering around to make sure she wouldn't be needed for anything before she left to find the nearest river.

"You seem quiet today." Gaius noted, glancing up at his companion beast, who floated in place and kept her eyes locked on the shrinking silhouette of Shi Jiang. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"You're too friendly with your enemies." Scylla muttered, eyes narrowed. "That man, he clearly came here to see you fight. We could have handled this without him."

"Eh, if he wants to watch he can watch." Gaius shrugged. "I can't be expected to keep my abilities a secret forever."

"He's as strong as you!" Scylla snapped, circling around the King like a shark. "You're so reckless, and why? Because you think you're going to die soon?"

"Sometimes I just gotta feel something." Gaius sighed, turning back to the pyramid. "Now let's get those people out of there. I'm done talking about this."

——

It is embarrassing how long it took me to actually introduce Shi Jiang to Gaius. I have been planning this guy for literally four turns, but every time I write what would have been his first interaction with Gaius, I feel like it's just not right. Well, this one works well enough and sets up future events between these two.

Shi Jiang is one of those characters who doesn't really know how to fully turn it down. The sort of smoldering, troubled young man that's popular as a love interest in romance novels. He has both personal and professional reasons to be looking into both Gaius and other Kings, and he's incredibly strong.

That gun of his is a qi cannon designed for killing Cores by simply outputting enough brute force to blast them apart. The giant energy cost is supplemented by the fast that it can break down just about any energy source into qi to load itself. His sword manipulates gravity to raise or lower the weight of things it hits, in addition to being made of core-quality materials and able to alter its own mass and impart these properties onto any qi put into it. He can cast multiple powerful time-altering techniques simultaneously, usually defaulting to speed himself up and slow the enemy down at the same time. And his armor? There's a lot of secrets there, but it's a big stat boost and incredibly tough on top of its more esoteric properties. This is the kind of stupid shit a character needs to have to keep up with Gaius and other top tier Good Seeds. Now consider that Gaius isn't even close to the top-tier non-Core Formation Good Seed: that's Wei Feng.

I also wanted to write actual Core-level combat, and this served as a good excuse to do that. The Core Formation's biggest benefit is described as coming from its endurance, so I made sure to display how that manifests. A constant stream of powerful techniques, one after another with no reprieve, like performing supernatural feats is as easy as breathing. If you're in Foundation or Single Pillar and have the misfortune of fighting someone in Core Formation, your only real shot at victory is to destroy them quickly, because they will definitely outlast you. Thus, 'Core-killing' weapons and techniques are ones that prioritize doing a massive amount of damage all at once

There are many little things in here that I'm not 100% happy with, but I have to settle down and just post the damn thing. If I keep picking at it forever then I'll end up scrapping it yet again, searching futilely for the absolutely perfect Shi Jiang introduction.
 
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Gaius Antonius 88 - He Who Gnaws Upon the Roots
Gaius Antonius 88 - He Who Gnaws Upon the Roots​

The north wind blew harshly that evening, carrying a deep chill that sunk beneath the flesh and seeped into the bones of those who felt it. It was this sort of wind, amongst the Gao Clan, which was said to herald troubled times. The fast, biting winter gales which froze men without shelter to death and carried cold fronts where they went were dangers themselves, vicious predators which sought to consume. This wind was not itself dangerous, but carried a fell omen.

As the sun dipped lower and lower and the sky began its transition from soft baby blue to the orange and yellow of dusk, this ill-omened wind blew through a canyon pass and crashed upon a fortress. Fort Darkhold, a rough-hewn callus of stone and iron, held firm and unflinching against the wind. Nonetheless, the cold air seeped through every crack, slipped under the bottom of the gate, and invaded through every window.

The first to feel the chill was a man who gazed out upon the pass his fortress was set to guard. It assailed him and he shivered, pulling the finely-embroidered cloak he wore tighter around his body.

Immediately, this man, Lord Meng Jinhai, scolded himself internally. He was deep into the second Great Realm of cultivation, and as such this wind would have to be at least sixty degrees lower to really threaten him. What kind of sissy was Jinhai, to lose his composure before such a meager discomfort? And so, even though no one was watching, the lord stood up straight and faced the cold wind without further complaint.

"Something is coming, is that what you're telling me?" Jinhai asked the wind, which only whistled softly through the window in return. His voice, a slightly scratchy tenor, was a fitting match for his face, which was well-proportioned but gaunt. He clasped his bony hands together behind his back, as if he were speaking to a diplomat. "What is it? Calamity? Great change? Or perhaps an opportunity?

A sharp knocking at the lord's door snapped him out of his musings. "My lord, the lookouts have spotted something approaching; we await your command." A soldier's voice called from the other side.

The news puzzled Jinhai, who had just been looking out at the pass with his Foundation Building eyes and hadn't seen a thing. Was his eyesight getting worse already, even though he was only three-hundred fifty two? That would be just perfect for him, wouldn't it? "What sort of something? An army, or an individual?" He answered curtly.

"Four people, my lord, but they can't make out any details yet."

Just four, that was a number that could mean anything. Travelers, adventurers, diplomats; all unusual visitors for a fortress like this, though perhaps they were merely moving through, and their destination lay beyond the pass. If they were diplomats, Jinhai would need to greet them himself, being the commanding officer here.

"Thank you for the forewarning, tell whoever sent you that I shall be out momentarily." Jinhai declared. He shrugged out of his nightclothes and opened his closet, picking out a sturdy blue robe more appropriate for greeting visitors.

He heard the clicking of boots and the swooshing of cloth that accompanied a salute on the other side. "Yes, my lord." He silently mouthed in mocking fashion as the soldier said the same, then departed.

Jinhai dressed himself, then turned to his full-length mirror, carefully fitting his long gray hair into a simple ponytail. He saw more or less the same feeble-looking man he did every day - a small frame, wrinkles fit for a man in his four-hundreds, sunken eyes, and a small, unmanly chin and jaw. He sighed, fitting himself with the stern expression of a general going out to war, and inspected himself again. He would never strike fear into the hearts of men, but this face could be made to look dignified when he projected the right sort of presence.

Alright, that was enough dallying. Jinhai slipped a pair of gold bracelets around his wrists and a ring with a large ruby onto his middle finger. Just one - if he looked like he was trying too hard, then what little dignity he could muster would crumble. The door to his chambers creaked softly as he opened it, and he made his way out toward the main entrance flanked by three guards.

Fort Darkhold, named both for the dark stone from which it was built and the metaphorical darkness it supposedly held at bay, was if nothing else very sturdy. It sported both an outer wall and an inner wall before the fort itself would be reached, and a large, heavy main gate after all of that. That meant three gates in total had to be breached before Darkhold could be taken, and any army large enough to do such a thing would have their mobility strangled by the narrow pass, making them easy targets for its weapon emplacements to slaughter. As Jinhai arrived, the first two gates were already ajar and the third was being opened, two men cranking a mechanism which caused massive chains to slowly pull the doors inward.

Another person of high standing was already there, a well-built, dark-eyed, black-haired woman in dark gray robes. Shi Lanying appeared to all the world like a living, breathing shadow, and was known to move like one as well, with a silence that belied her size. She greeted her lord stoically with a shallow bow, before turning back to the gates.

Jinhai had not always hated Shi Lanying, but he found that with each passing year, the feeling swelled up within him more and more. Here was a woman destined for great things, less than half Jinhai's age and already on the verge of matching him in cultivation. It was painfully clear in the second-in-command's demeanor too; where she once showed genuine respect and admiration, she now gave the bare minimum courtesy to a man who still outranked her, but not for long.

Five sturdy pillars hummed with strength in Meng Jinhai's breast - all the pillars he would ever have. His family's wealth had been sufficient to brute force this disappointment of a son this far despite his poor qi receptiveness, but to push him any farther would be ruinously expensive. No, this was a bottleneck Jinhai would never break. Hence, he had been sent to run this fort out in the hinterlands - a comfortable position, but one where he would likely never do anything truly important.

Shi Lanying had four pillars, and every year, her partially-constructed fifth grew in size. A clock, counting down to the day that the one bit of power Jinhai had ever had would be wrenched away from him.

"Just four, correct?" Jinhai stated in businesslike fashion, turning to face the pass. Slipping through the outermost gate were indeed four people, all wrapped in hooded, fur-lined cloaks which hid their features. "Quite a small delegation, isn't it?"

"Mm, it's suspicious." Shi Lanying confirmed with a nod, voice smooth and husky. "But they've got the proper paperwork of an ambassador, and they've invoked the Laws of Hospitality."

The Laws of Hospitality - a simple, binding agreement that ensured civilization could function in a land where people ate one another. The exact definition varied from one nation to the next, but boiled down to 'I will cause no trouble in your home, and in exchange you will not consume me.' They were laws with a strong metaphysical grounding, ones which inevitably brought terrible misfortune on anyone who broke them.

"I see. Well, we've got no choice then, do we?" Jinhai added, straightening his back. It did not slip his mind that Shi Lanying had given the order to open the gates before he had arrived. Whether it was an intentional slight against him or simply an error in judgment, the lord could not say, but scolding his subordinate in front of these guests would only make him look weak. His brother Meng Tingfeng and his sister Meng Xiaohui, so strong, so authoritative. Did their own servants go over their heads like this? Certainly not; a favored child would be treated properly by all they had authority over.

The guests arrived, and though they were bundled up against the cold, a few details could be gleaned. One was simply massive, a broad-shouldered man at least eight feet in height. Another carried a palpable air of ghostly energy; it strongly radiated from within her body and she did not bother to hide it, though she didn't feel bereft of life the way an undead would. Another wore a big hat with a brim that stuck out over a foot in all directions. And finally, the smallest member of the group had ashen and cracked skin, like he was made of dried clay.

The new guests all turned and bowed to Jinhai, who bowed back in turn. "It's real good to be inside again after all this time." The man in the hat said, prompting nods and statements of affirmation from the others. "Thank you for letting us inside, Lord Meng.

"It is no trouble, is there anything at all you need?" Jinhai asked, smiling pleasantly. "I am a gracious host, and you should rest before you continue to your destination."

"Oh, I don't think we'll be staying too long." Drawled the man at the front of the group, tipping his hat. "Probably just for the night. If you could just fix us up with dinner and breakfast, and let us sleep someplace warm for the night, we'd be ever so grateful."

"Well, that's no trouble at all." Jinhai answered, turning to a soldier. "Well, you heard them. Go tell the cook to prepare four servings." Then he turned back and looked at the huge man. "Make that six servings."

—-

Things went without incident, for a time. The four travelers conversed with the soldiers and gratefully took the food they were offered. As they told it, the man in the hat was an ambassador traveling from the Gao Clan to the Devil Bee Sect, and the other three were his bodyguards. When asked why they kept to such a large group, they simply explained that there was an urgent diplomatic matter and they needed to travel quickly.

The banquet hall was a little more lively than usual that day, as the travelers shared tales of the lands they had visited in the past and drank merrily alongside the soldiers and officers. Jinhai stayed relatively quiet, only chiming in from time to time from his position at the head of the table. The roasted pheasant was good, it really was, but it didn't bring him the same enjoyment as good food normally would. Perhaps he was simply in a bad mood today.

As the sun fully set and day became night, people began retiring to their beds bit by bit, their posts filled by the night watch. The little man amused himself playing card games and doing tricks with conjured clay, the woman with the ghostly aura boasted about various battles she had won, and the large man kept to himself and consumed huge quantities of beer.

As Jinhai prepared to retire to his own quarters, the man with the hat - now sans hat, actually - planted one hand flat on the table and leaned over to get his attention. "Lord Meng, I really must thank you for having us here, it's been a great time." He said, voice smooth as butter.

Jinhai recoiled just a little bit, not used to people so brazenly getting in his personal space. "Hm. Yes, well, it was only proper to do so. It was no trouble."

The ambassador smirked, stepping back. "Alright, alright, I can take a hint. You must be tired from all the excitement. I'll leave you be."

Something about that statement deeply irked Jinhai, even as he knew the feeling was irrational. Did this stranger really think so little of him? That he was so weak he needed to be put to bed precisely on time like a child? No, he couldn't himself leave that sort of impression.

"Would you care to join me then, good sir?" The lord said genially, throwing the ball back in his guest's court. "I would love to hear more of your stories."

This was fine, Jinhai thought as he led the strange visitor up the stairs and down the hall to his quarters. He would let the stranger prattle on for an hour, hopefully get a nice lay out of it, and then he could go to bed. In the morning, the four of them would depart and their secrets would be someone else's problem.

—-

When Jinhai and the ambassador reached his quarters, the lord allowed himself to relax ever so slightly. It was, after all, easier to curate one's appearance to an audience of one than to a crowd.

He broke out an old bottle of vintage wine, lit a fire and poured a glass for both him and the visitor. The two clinked their glasses together and pulled up a pair of fine, plush chairs before taking a seat. The whole time, the other man's expression remained as guarded and pleasant as Jinhai's own, ensuring the silence remained awkward. As they both relaxed into their seats, the lord prepared himself for some more vapid conversation.

"I was surprised that you let us in so easily. A lot of people are paranoid these days." The visitor mused, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag.

"Maybe they are, but I am an honorable man." Jinhai responded, crossing his legs and resting his head on his fist. "The Laws of Hospitality are sacred, and besides, we could use the company."

"Mm. Nice to see such kindness." The visitor replied. "The war's got everybody paranoid, and there's always some frightening myth going around too."

"Indeed. This time around it's the tale of the Wise Man." Jinhai sighed, fidgeting in place. Damnit, where was this inane conversation even going?

"That one's new to me, why don't you tell me about it?" The ambassador asked, that pleasant smile still plastered across his features. Jinhai couldn't help but wonder if he was being made fun of here. Was that a smug smile, or did this strange man actually like his company?

"Well, it's really not anything of merit." The lord said, pushing his gray ponytail back behind his shoulder. "A man wandering across the region dispensing 'wisdom' and looking for worthy vessels. Supposedly, no one has ever passed his muster, and he leaves behind victims with broken minds wherever he goes."

"Wise man, eh?" The tall man echoed thoughtfully, throwing some more branches into the guttering fire and picking up the ornate poker nearby. "Wisdom comes in many forms. What kinda wisdom is this fella spreading around, exactly?" He asked, prodding at the fire and causing it to flare back up. A pleasant warmth filled the room in response, and Jinhai sighed quietly in response.

"The rumors vary quite a bit." Jinhai responded, taking a sip of wine. "Some say it is a lost ancient cultivation method. Others, the secret to inner peace. The one constant is that he considers almost no one worthy."

"Is that so." The visitor said, gazing into the flames. It was not a question. "And what good is wisdom that hardly anyone can receive?"

"Well, I'd imagine it would be quite good for those who can, at least." Jinhai caught a glimpse of his warped reflection in his wine and scowled. "People are not created equal, that's simply the way of things."

"Ya seem troubled, Lord Meng." The visitor declared, turning to Jinhai with a soft, compassionate smile. He put down the fire poker and sauntered over to where the lord sat, circling around behind his chair and brushing one finger along an armrest. "Is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong?" Jinhai echoed, before pounding back the rest of his glass in an impulsive flash of anger. He set it down so hard, he was worried for a half second that the stem might break. "Is anything ever right?"

If he were sober, or perhaps in less of a black mood, Jinhai might have noticed the odd looseness he felt about himself. Not just in his body, but in his mind as well. All of the buried things, compressed tight into a massive tangle of negative emotions, were beginning to spill out. "It's never been right. I've never been right. It's not like I've been treated wrongfully, I just never measured up."

He distantly recalled all the time he spent as a boy, bedridden with sickness. He'd have died, were he not of nobility. Why, in this nation of man-eaters, had his mother and father done so much to keep their weak child alive? Sunk cost, perhaps - it was very hard for two Elders to reproduce, so even the leastt viable progeny had to be protected.

"But you are a lord, are you not?" Asked a second voice, this one a woman's. A pair of ghostly arms reached through the back of Jinhai's chair and embraced him. Some small part of him screamed to react, that this was an attack, but it was drowned beneath an ocean of utter exhaustion. "You have subjects, you have gold, you have strength few could hope for."

"Hardly did a thing to earn it." Jinhai muttered, slumping forward. His vision began to blur. "A real Meng child would be more than this. They're ashamed of me, I just know it. I'd bet you they laugh at me when I'm not around, and why wouldn't they?"

"What is it you really wish for?" The visitor asked. "What do you Seek?"

He couldn't see anything anymore, couldn't hear or feel either. "I wish I was dead. I wish everyone else was dead." He muttered, shaking.

"Is that really true?" The woman's voice asked, ghostly limbs embracing him tighter. The warmth of the fireplace was gone, replaced by the chill of the grave. "Is that what you truly wish for?"

Solid ground found Jinhai's feet. He was standing somewhere, looking at something.

"No, it's not, but I'm so tired, I'm so angry, I just want it all to stop."

"The Thanatos Urge is not a true ambition. What do YOU want?"

A hulking form sat before him, dressed in the robes of a judge, a meat tenderizer taking the place of a gavel. Jinhai looked up and up and up, but the judge's face was cloaked in shadow, too far away to make out. Golden rings sat heavy on his fingers and jewels glittered where they were sewn into his robes.

What did Jinhai want? What did he actually want? To be strong, he supposed, but so did everyone else in the world. To be good enough, to be loved? Again, that was nothing more than a universal desire, nothing he could call his own.

"Do you have anything at all?"

Smooth wood beneath his small, weathered hands. On either side, spectators watched, interchangeable and anonymous, staring at him like the pathetic spectacle he was. Merely ordinary, what a laugh. That was all he could ever hope to be.

Two siblings, both more talented than him. A sworn brother who had leapt into Core Formation and left him behind. A fort far from the frontlines, used only to receive and transport supplies to the real soldiers. A fitting punishment for merely being strong in this age, rather than exceptionally strong.

"Does it upset you?"

Perhaps it did, in the same way a monkey might be upset at its inability to fly. The fault lay entirely with his own inadequacy. Jinhai was simply not a person of real worth. Perhaps in some Righteous sect, he could wile away his days, content with a few scraps of power. He could write poetry and philosophy and gossip in the court of some ruler and pretend that his life had value. But among the Demonic sects, forward momentum was the key to prosperity. Those who couldn't keep growing would eventually be crushed by those behind them as they advanced.

"Then you are already condemned?"

Yes.

"Are you satisfied with this?"

Satisfied? Of course not. He wished more than anything to continue moving forever, to prove himself a great hero. But a good lord possessed the ability to face reality, and reality was looking grim for Meng Jinhai.

The courtroom dissolved back into reality, and Jinhai fell to his knees, gasping. Sweat poured down his face and his heart was beating like a battering ram. This wasn't what an Elder's pressure felt like, it was something entirely different. Something that he couldn't know for sure, but which was seeming more likely by the minute.

"An ordinary man, born into extraordinary expectations. Condemned to die as a failure and not satisfied with it, but not fierce enough to throw away what he's already got and take a chance." The ringleader muttered to himself as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So much resentment, so much despair… alright, I can work with that."

Despair? What a strange way to put it. Was the lord feeling despair? Right now he was, but what about before, in his day to day life? Such things felt so distant to him now, before all of this.

That nightmare in human shape paced around Jinhai leisurely, a far cry from his insensate captive. "Well, you're strong of mind to endure all of that, if nothing else. Ambitious too. And quite smart on top of that."

Jinhai tried to stand, to run, to do something, but found himself stopping short. Chains of fog wound around his wrists and held him fast to the floor, and no matter how hard he pulled, he could not break them.

The man's large hands clasped Jinhai's shoulders tightly, and his forehead split open once more to reveal his hidden third eye. "You are going to receive an exclusive gift, and it's going to change your life forever. In exchange, you'll be a pawn, driving history in the direction I need it to go."

"Finally, another pass." The Soul Artist said, sighing with relief. "Your standards really are high, Sir."

Despite the terror of this situation, Jinhai could not help but let an expression of disgust come over his face. A pawn in another, greater man's schemes, just like he'd been his whole life. Was this really all he could hope for, to be a game piece, wrenched from one master to the next? Without conscious thought, the prince found himself drawing a hidden dagger from his sleeve and lunging at his captor.

The blade stopped an inch from the man's throat as Jinhai reached the limits of his bonds, sending the leader stumbling back a few steps in shock. Blood trickled from a shallow cut on his neck, one which had stopped just shy of severing his carotid artery.

Before Jinhai could fully process that he had missed, the stranger's foot crashed into his midsection, fracturing several ribs and driving the air from his lungs - along with a not insubstantial trickle of blood. "Damn, I got too cocky!" the visitor laughed, clapping his hands loudly. "You really are a good vessel for what I've got to give."

"So the Wise Man is real, and it's you? Just kill me, you fucker…" Jinhai wheezed, stopping to cough up yet more blood. That man wasn't in Core Formation, so how did he kick so hard? "I'm sick of being a dog on a leash, so just take my life already."

"That's it!" The monster exclaimed joyfully. "Rage. Rage against me, against your enemies, against anyone who ever doubted you! All I need you to do is become great, with the help of this gift."

The Soul Artist stepped far, far away, retreating to the far corners of the room and covering her ears. Her leader embraced Jinhai with an inescapable iron grip, and whispered softly into his ear.

THE SECOND GIFT



IS PASSED ON


All went quiet. The heavy, painful tears of a broken man poured down Jinhai's face. Something took hold of him then; a deep, heavy sadness, weighing him down like an iron ball. "Why would you give this to me?" He sobbed. "I'll never feel whole again…"

In this moment, he knew he had become more than he could have ever hoped to be. And yet, he now also understood just how much he was missing. It was as if a rodent had become a mentally disabled human. Objectively, the rodent was far more than it had ever been before, but in gaining so much, it understood just how much it fell short.

The wise man gave Jinhai a sad, sympathetic smile and patted him on the shoulder. "That's the idea. Throw anyone who gets in your way into that empty abyss inside of you, and what is theirs will be yours. The role of a ruler is to take. Take from your enemies everything they have - that's your right."

Before Jinhai could say another word, the wise man turned and walked away, and the Soul Artist left with him. He opened the door and peeked his head out, calling down the hall. "We're done here! Fall back!" He commanded.

"W… wait, please!" Jinhai stammered, reaching out to the wise man's back and managing a few stumbling steps. "Please, I have so many more questions. Who are you? Why do you know this word? How can I hear the rest?"

His words fell on deaf ears, as if they were never spoken. The other two henchmen, now battered, bloodied and out of breath, soon arrived, taking brief glances at the sorry old man their master had chosen before all three of them reached out and placed a hand on said master. The clattering of armored feet resounded through the halls as Jinhai's soldiers pursued them.

"Don't go, please don't go!" Jinhai cried out desperately, running toward the four of them. "You can't abandon me too!"

Before his outstretched, grasping fingers could take hold of the wise man's collar, he slipped under, all four of them falling through the floor surrounded in a shimmering glow. The lord felt their presence slip down through the floors of the fortress, then into the ground, and then rocket away faster than he could hope to follow.

"My lord! My lord, are you alright!?" A soldier cried out, helping Jinhai to his feet. "Those visitors, they cast some technique on you. We tried to reach you, but…"

"They're all Experts, milord. Powerful Experts, the two that blocked our way fought us all off on their own." Another soldier said, causing those around him to clam up. Jinhai appreciated brutal honesty; he would have to remember that man's face and reward him in some way.

"They broke the Laws of Hospitality…" Shi Lanying said, making Jinhai nearly jump out of his skin in surprise and bringing him out of his reverie. Damn that stealthy movement of hers! "They'll be dead soon, or else much weaker than before. What could they have been doing here that was worth that?"

"I'm not sure, Senior Sister." Another man said, some gormless Early Foundation Expert whose name wasn't worth remembering. All of his officers were like that, all losers like him, sent out here because they weren't good enough for the front lines. "I-I don't think they were of the Blood Path at all. There was no blood qi in any of their techniques."

"Then they played us like a fiddle…" Lanying growled, fist clenched in anger.

They weren't even looking at him. They were talking amongst each other like Jinhai wasn't even in the room. It had always been like this with his family too. The lord's doubts all melted away.

"Leave us." Jinhai spoke, voice thick with a violent swirl of conflicting emotions. "Everyone except Shi Lanying, return to your posts."

After a moment, the troops hesitantly obeyed, leaving the two of them and quietly murmuring amongst one another. Only once the door was shut did the lord turn his gaze upon his second-in-command, and he took a small amount of private enjoyment with what he saw.

Shi Lanying's normally pretty face had seen better days, and she walked slowly with a painful limp. Evidently, not even her prized Shadowstep had been enough to overcome those two servants of the Wise Man.

That Shadowstep… if Jinhai had it, he could have won more battles, attained more glory. It was wasted on an ungrateful, insubordinate servant like Shi Lanying. Jinhai's misfortune came about because he lacked that which he needed. Never before had the lord realized just how incomplete of a being he was.

"Change of plans, Shi Lanying. Big change." Jinhai declared, already drafting new ideas in his head, ideas he never could have implemented before with his meager potential.

The black-clad officer looked puzzled at the bleak, yet determined look on her master's face and furrowed his dark, well-groomed eyebrows. "Sir?"

This fortress was a dead end. It was a crib, to hold an infant. Jinhai could have something much greater, if only he reached for it. "We have to repair the damage, but first, treat the wounded and gather up the dead. Don't eat them yet, I wish to do an inspection." He commanded, growing more confident with each passing moment.

The muffled thumping of a gauntleted fist into an open palm preceded the deep, ashamed bow of a subordinate who had well and truly failed. "As you command, Sir."

—-

That night, Jinhai weakened Shi Lanying with a paralytic poison, then slit her throat. He then performed a cleansing technique to purge the poison from her corpse, and began the feast. It was an utterly anticlimactic end to one of his most hated people, made simple by Lanying's total lack of regard for him as a threat.

He ate Lanying's dantian, as well as one of her legs, and learned the principles behind the Shadowstep. He ate the fingers of a poison artist, nails discolored from a lifetime of working with chemicals, and expanded his understanding of the alchemical arts. He ate the eyeballs of a bow artist and felt his own sight grow keener, and his fingers grow defter. He ate the flank of a Body Artist and felt his muscles grow denser and tighter with greater physical strength. He ate the heart of a curse artist and felt his blood sing with degenerative, primordial hatred.

When training, the first step is to set a strong, solid foundation. A broad base of knowledge and capability, ensuring greater room to grow later in life. All the dead and crippled who could broaden their lord's foundation became his meal, and those who would be of no use to him were tossed to his subordinates. He no longer had any need of a large force to man a fort; Darkhold could lay empty, he was leaving this place.

An intelligent Cultivator does not spurn a gift out of pride alone, especially one with no apparent downsides. No matter the circumstances under which this gift had been given, Jinhai would be loath not to make use of its potential.

Become great? Sure, he would gladly do that. He needed no encouragement to elevate his station, and there was no fundamental difference between strength one was born with and strength acquired by chance later in life. He just needed a little bit of time to get fully acquainted with his gift, to fully grasp its scope and limitations. When that was done, though?

Meng Jinhai, son of Meng Yan, would join the war. He would feast upon his foes and attain from them all manner of mastery and strength, and ascend to unimaginable heights.

—-

"Legate, I don't doubt your judgment at all…" Nikolas trailed off, in a tone that indicated to Gaius that his judgment was being doubted. "But were we perhaps too stringent in our standards? Will just two people really make that big a difference? The war is so massive…"

"It don't need to make a huge difference. In fact, I hope it doesn't." Gaius replied calmly. "Just a bit. Just a little bit of leverage down the line, to keep the Demonic Powers in the game."

"They say the wings of a butterfly in the East can stir up a hurricane in the West." Albinus declared. "Too many butterflies at once, and the whole world will be blown away."

In the back of the group, Zenovia sighed wearily. "You know, when I signed up for the Stargazers, I didn't think I'd be serving under a man with the power to decide history and end the world."

"Aww, ya make it sound bigger than it really is, Zenovia." Gaius replied with a shrug. "I can't decide history, I can only push it in one direction. Deciding history, that part comes later."

Zenovia's eyebrow shot up at such a provocative statement. "How much later?"

"Long enough that you fuckers can't count on me to bail our whole civilization out of the wars in this Region." Said Gaius with a smirk. "Cultivation takes a while, even for me."

"Ah, so you're in that sort of mood today. It's one of my favorites~." Albinus cooed sweetly. He stepped a bit closer to his Legate, closer than what could be considered professional, but not quite close enough to slip an arm around Gaius' waist.

The other two Centurions scoffed and rolled their eyes at their colleague's brown-nosing, and Nikolas reached into his pack to pull out a map. "So, where to next, Sir?" He said just a little bit too loud, so as to make Albinus bug off.

"Back to Demonic Altar territory, might as well give it one more pass on the way home." The Empty King gazed off to the South, as if he could see the nation all the way from here.

Despite the jovial attitude, none of those present could help but wonder, just a little bit, how this sort of influence would play out.

—-

This omake is another thing I've been trying to figure out how to put together for a while. Gaius empowered two more people with the Word of Power this turn, and Meng Jinhai was the first of them. The Demonic Powers are about to get hammered, and we can't let this was up north end yet, so I'm giving them a little present to help them out in the coming battles - just enough to ensure they stay alive.

This chapter ended up having a strong ASoIaF vibe, though I wasn't intentionally trying to put in there. I guess it sort of fits the vibe of an old, bitter lord holed up in a fortress stewing in his anger. I feel like the overall quality of the prose isn't very consistent. I tried to really take things to the next level and I didn't quite get there this time around.

It didn't come out perfectly; this story would work best as like a 20k word short novel in its own right, but I didn't really have that in me, so this is a somewhat compressed version of that. Originally Gaius spent several days at the fortress corrupting the lord, but I simply couldn't manage that. Still, I feel like it did a pretty good job of introducing Meng Jinhai, which was the purpose. It also gave me the opportunity to further explore Gaius as a Satanic figure, an embodiment of ambition, pride and desire.
 
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Gaius Antonius 89 - One Trillion Tyrants
Gaius Antonius 89 - One Trillion Tyrants​

The pen hovered over the page, suspended half an inch over the parchment. That half inch of empty air seemed impenetrable, the same as it had the last few times Gaius had tried to write. He had written something before the last Trial, hadn't he? It was harder to remember little things like that these days. Visions, fits, episodes, there were many words for it, but they all meant the same thing: the King was not as stable as he ought to be, mentally or spiritually. Little things sometimes slipped through the cracks.

Gaius sighed, putting the pen down and taking a sip from the teacup laid beside it. He'd drank a few cups' worth by now, but there was no worry of it running out. For him, creating more of a mundane tea like this took almost nothing. That was odd, wasn't it? Perhaps it was bad for Gaius, a man who occasionally struggled with reality, to attain this much control over it.

Three hours.

In three hours, Gaius Antonius would likely die. It was more than probability or common sense that told him this; whomever the Trial Hunters deemed their strongest member would no doubt be a monster, but he was quite the monster himself. No, for the past few years, the feeling of impending doom had only grown stronger and stronger in the Empty King's mind.

And so he had a thought: one last letter, a suicide note of sorts, before the end. Here Gaius sat, in a comfortable inn room in New Pleuron, a guest of honor, and he was sequestering himself away trying to write something meaningful. This wasn't some idle bit of poetry, or half-remembered accounts of a vision, it wasn't something that could be thrown out there carelessly. He had to write something beautiful and true, but what?

The Stargazers were long gone, deployed off to Yuan to help with the war effort. Nearly every friend from Gaius' youth was dead. Lipita was here, he supposed; perhaps he ought to talk to her and see if that could bring him the clarity to write. But no, her Single Pillar was too fresh, too vulnerable to being molded by outside influence. To expose his former pupil to excessive amounts of his own Dao Emanations would only hinder her future growth.

Amaranth, then? That was a healthy, well-formed Dao Pillar if he'd ever seen one, not in any danger of contamination. Maybe that old friend would have some guidance for him. Diomedes was around too, always a solid and dependable sort. Hell, he could even consult the Ninth Prince. Sure, he'd only ever had a few conversations with that strange sage, but they'd undoubtedly been fruitful ones.

No, the thought of any of those turned his stomach. It made Gaius angry, for reasons he couldn't begin to comprehend. He didn't want any one's advice; to take counsel from anyone right now would destroy him. He didn't even want to hear from Scylla, who was swimming around somewhere in the mountains but would hear him should he ever speak into his teleportation ring. Gaius had to settle this problem himself.

"This is a test." He said, to nothing and no one in particular but his own inner self. He scowled, staring at the ceiling and squinting. "I need to say something beautiful and true, right? Express how I really feel?"

How did he feel? That was a perilous question; more often for him it was 'how ought to I feel?' And yet, such shallow emotions would not resolve The Seeker's conundrum. And so, praying he would not unravel himself through doubt, Gaius pressed the pen down, and dug in deep

—-

Tho Those Who Would Seek

To those who walk the true path: embrace the fear that grips you as you stare into the expanse of infinity. Let the old times fall to ruin, as all things must. In the void of endless time, every love you felt will fade, every bond you had will break, and you will stand alone, mighty and sorrowful.

Mankind was not meant to live long lives, and so those who live long lives become less human and instead become something new. Each one of us, a new species, each circle of comrades, an ecosystem. The longer we live and the farther we go, the fewer people we know how to connect to anymore. This regimented military structure my Clan has built only holds up with enough force to press us together despite the endlessly growing differences which push us apart.

Should one wish to make Cultivators, those beasts of desire and possibility, into cogs as the Earl of Bronze did long ago, I suspect it works in twos. Whatever Great Realm the strongest member reaches, those two realms below can be pressed into neat little rows, but one realm below, they will always chafe. The Elders of the Golden Devil Clan are not regimented soldiers, they are individual supermen, as all men yearn to be as they grow old and strong.

The way the Elders live, free and individual, by a logic that only they can fully parse anymore, is more primitive than that of a true soldier, a true citizen. And yet, I find it is more truthful than the way of the Legionnaire or the Centurion, who is truly dominated by his own culture. That, as my end approaches, is what I have come to understand: that I do not respect civilization. I don't need a name on my grave; I need a fire in my heart and a defiant cry on my tongue until my final moments.

I dream of a world without boundary or law, where humankind is honest about their intentions. Where certainty becomes only probability, and impossibility becomes possibility. If I could, I would rip away the Orthodox Path and leave only the Single Pillar, birthing a cosmos which sails upon currents of wants and waves of dreams. I dream of a world of one trillion tyrants.

To whomever reads this document: seek strength. Seek hardship. Do not turn your head away from this world, but gaze deeply upon its frightful, beautiful features and decide what you see. Master yourself, then master the world.


—-

When Gaius' work was finished, he dropped his pen as if it were a rod of hot steel, as if the pathos he had just transcribed could cut him like a blade. Yes, this was it, this was lightning on the page, the force he'd needed to exert! With shaking, worshipful hands, he rolled up the parchment, tied it with string, and pressed it in was with the seal of House Quintia. Clutching the document carefully, Gaius stood, invigorated.

He tapped the side of his teleportation ring, speaking into it. "It's time, Sister. Rift opens in less than three hours, are you ready to rumble?" He asked, voice shot through with the grit of a challenger.

"Ready as I'll ever be, Brother." Scylla replied calmly, the sadistic cooing of a true predator echoing through his mind. "Just remember, I follow you, not the Golden Devil Clan. You owe me when this is done."

"Wish I could be so damn optimistic!" Gaius chuckled, conjuring a cigar between his fingers and chomping on it. "Fine, you're on. I'll give ya a big favor when it's all done."

Before sitting down to write today, Gaius had already bathed and groomed himself meticulously, picked out the perfect robes, jewelry and hat, and done some light training. Everything was in place. With all the confidence he could muster, the Empty King pushed open the door to his room and strode out. The sound of his boots against the floorboards as he walked to his end seared its way into his memory.

As Gaius descended the stairs, the innkeeper was there, as were many townsfolk. They raised their hands in salute as he went by, which made this whole production feel even more like a funeral. As he left the inn and strutted down the street, more people stopped and saluted as well. It was not the wild celebration of a few days ago, but the enthusiastic stoicism of a deeply military people.

Gaius stopped by a post station and handed his parcel to the courier with instructions to take it back to the Stargazers. They would be the first to read the document, then they would transcribe and distribute it across the Clan. With that matter settled, the King no longer had any reason to remain in New Pleuron.

The city's gates opened for The Seeker, and from there he saw his destination in the distance. Up on a hill stood the others; it seemed he was one of the last to arrive. Magnus Centennius, the demonic engineer, meticulously fiddled with his many gadgets, making sure it was all just so. Diomedes and Amaranth wrestled off to the side, both warming up and passing the time. Lipita, her ascended form resplendent before Gaius' spiritual sense, meditated calmly, though a deep well of energy bubbled like magma within.

With each step feeling heavier than the last, Gaius approached the group amongst whom he would meet his fate. Live. Die. Become something different from what he was now. Those were the pleasingly simple options before him.

"My oh my, it seems I'm unfashionably late." Gaius called out in a lazy drawl, tipping his hat as he strolled up the hill. He inhaled deeply from his cigar, which was now just a small fraction of its previous length, and blew out a small cloud of acrid smoke. "But still in time for the party."

—-

I'm not sure if this omake could be said to hold any narrative significance. It's more of a mood-setter, something I quickly slammed out after a certain mood took me. I guess you could call it everything falling into place; the last, last, truly last stop before the destination. There will be more omakes I post during this turn, but emotionally speaking, this one is turn 15's final note.
 
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