Bouncing his twin children on his knees, Gen exchanged smiles with his beloved Bei, eager to taste the sumptuous dinner feast she prepared using the bounty from his latest hunting trip. As much as he loved his infrequent trips out into the forests with his friends, these quiet monts were what he lived for, spending ti with his beautiful family in their cozy little ho. A simple but fulfilling life, one which made his younger selfs dreams of glory and riches seem cold and empty in comparison. So long as his wife and children had enough food to fill their bellies and warm beds to sleep in at night, what more did he need?
A sombre sigh drew his attention away from his perfect life, and he found an unfamiliar grandfather sitting across the table from him. Even without his embroidered silk robes or gold, silver, and jade ornants worn about his person, one could tell this grandfather was a wise and powerful man of ans from his bearing alone. Stroking his perfectly grood moustache and silken white beard, the grandfather shook his head in poignant disappointnt and said, Little worm, an endless font of regret and disappointnt. Ti and effort this Sovereign has sown, yet failure is all We reap. Gesturing at the surroundings, the grandfather scoffed at Gens ho and family as if offended. And now, this Sovereign sees why. Is this what little worm desires? Heaven Blessed with luck and talent, yet possessed by such agre dreams and lack of ambition, a waste of potential and promise.
Oh, this poor old man must be senile and have co to the wrong ho. Bei, so tea for our guest please. Smiling at the grandfather, Gen said, Good sir, we are but a humble village, and I a simple man. I do not understand your aning and I fear you have the wrong ho, but you are welco to join us for dinner. My lovely wife is an excellent cook, and my children well-behaved.
Enough little worm. Focus. Gesturing around them once again, the grandfather said, All this is but a fignt of imagination, for there is no ho, wife, or children. We sit within a pitifully lacking Natal Palace, one crafted without proper foundation or support, but also crafted without aid and even touched upon the Truth without guidance. An impressive achievent which blinded this Sovereign to little worms innate failings, a promising talent and ultimately, poor investnt.
The world spun as Gen was overco with a sudden headache, his body aching and eyes blurring. No, he said, shutting his eyes for relief, but there was none to be had. No, I dont... youre wrong. This is real. This is my life. I am Gen, hunter and chief of the village. My wife Bei gave birth to two children, a boy and a girl. Brother? Samat? Where are you? Help explain. Deng? Kash? Are you there?
You are Gen, yes, but this is not your life. Your brother died before you were born. Your wife died shortly after your nuptials. You have no children and you murdered your parents. There was no malice in the gentlemans tone, only apathetic boredom, as if listing chores for Gen to do instead of revealing life-shattering revelations. You, little worm, are this Sovereigns sha and Disciple. Rember your life, the one you lived, not the one youve imagined here. Rember the things youve done and people youve killed. Rember it all and suffer. Use the pain, embrace it and think: why do you hurt, little worm?
No...Stop! Despite Gens pitiful protest, the rejected mories flooded into him and his world shattered to pieces, never to be rebuilt again. Qing-Qing, Baledagh, Laughing Dragon, and more, Gen rembered everything he went through before he crafted his perfect little world, his place of safety and solace to hide away from the harsh reality of his cris in reality. The mories continued erging in his mind, mories of torture, bloodshed, cannibalism, and worse, a life filled with horror and misery while lived amongst the most vile subjects humanity had to offer.
Mother in Heaven... What have I beco? Pa... Ma... Im so sorry...
The burden of his sins weighed heavily on Gens shoulders and he fell to his knees in the darkness of the void. Why? he asked, looking up at the Uniter, for this old monster was no ntor of his. Why couldnt you leave be? I didnt want this, I never wanted this... Hands, his hands, covered in Pas blood while Ma pleaded for him to stop...
Flicking his sleeves, the Uniter almost looked ashad and apologetic. Alas, fate and circumstance left this Sovereign with little choice. You, little worm, suffered grievous injury at the hands of your foe, and now you lay comatose and senseless with broken skull and distended brain.
He cheated. The snarl slipped out as Gen wrestled with his mories and emotions, rage and sorrow vying for supremacy within. He trapped the Spirits and left without their guidance. With their help, I could have torn him limb from limb, beaten him as easily as turning my hand. It wasnt fair. It wasnt right...
Perhaps, but such is the price one must pay for excessive reliance on... the Spirits. The Uniter spat out the word as if it left a poor taste in his mouth, his tone haughty and patronizing. This Sovereign warned you, did he not? The razors edge, little worm, tread it lightly. Surrender too much or resist too little and doom yourself to a life of diocrity. You, little worm, you glimpsed true power and twisted it to your advantage, but still you indulged your dark desires for the sake of indulgence alone. This, more than anything else, brought about your downfall. Little worms life was spared thanks to this Sovereign personally distracting the Devourer, but the whelp grows resistant to Our persuasion and beguilent.
Bristling with resentnt over his lost paradise, Gen asked, Then why wake from my dream? Why not leave to die in peace?
Oozing with condescending amusent, the Uniter scoffed. There is no risk of death, not with this Sovereign here to Heal you, but for all its wonders and complexities, the mind is a fragile thing. The flesh endures, but the mind is gone and this Sovereign lacks the patience to nd it, leaving only this remnant behind, the weak and naive village boy who could not bear to face the truth.
So Gens evil half was dead and gone? No, the other Gen was still him, but a Gen bereft of love and compassion, conscience and morality, all tossed aside in his pursuit of power. A grave mistake, but one he would not make again. I will not be your tool, Gen declared, finding strength in his grief and remorse even as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. My sins may damn my soul in the eyes of the Mother, but at least I will die in Her light.
Religion, hmph. A feeble excuse for those happy to remain ignorant of the workings of our world. Waving his displeasure aside, the Uniter sighed and said, No matter. Little worm is mistaken, for he is no longer of any value to this Sovereign. This relationship began with such high hopes, but little worm disappointed at every turn. Perhaps one of the others will prove superior, but all lack little worms most desirable quality. Gesturing at said quality, it was only then Gen realized his hands had turned tallic, a reflection of reality now that hed lost his shelter. A puzzling conundrum Blessings are, so infrequent this Sovereign rarely has a chance to study them, much less learn the key to unlocking humanitys full potential, but with luck, this one can still be salvaged.
The Uniter snapped his fingers and Gens body flooded with pain, his headache intensifying and mind growing so cloudy he couldnt even catalogue his aches and injuries from his beating. Speaking over Gens agonized groans and whimpers, the Uniter continued, This Sovereign intended to guide little worm for decades to co, nurture a Disciple with patience and guidance, but ti is no longer our ally. The Devourer walks a new Path and already proves great hindrance, an anomaly and outlier this Sovereign sought to eliminate, but little worm failed and fell. Fear not, for little worm can still be of use and the mission accomplished yet, though considerable potential will be lost. This Sovereign abhors waste, but distant water cannot quench nearby fires. Chuckling at a joke which was lost to Gen in the throes of pain, the Uniter added, Now, this Sovereign must borrow this form to correct little worms mistakes, so return to your dreams, where there is no loving family to await you.
With those words, countless Spirits burst out of the Uniters embroidered robes, no, from the embroidery itself, streaming out in numbers greater than hed ever seen before. It was all Gen could do not to recoil in horror as the void filled with their horrific forms and their wailing filled his ears, dragging him away and condemning him into the Fathers maw for all that hed done. Failure was all he was good for, tornt his lot in life, misery what he deserved, and suffering all he would know, this and more they promised, screaming their ssage in a thousand tongues and again in a thousand more. When the madness settled and he ca to once again, Gen laid bound and helpless upon the rack while he, the other him, the soulless him, stood ready with tools they both knew all too well.
Oh how Gen scread when the other him set to bloody work, and how it smiled to watch him suffer. On and on this went for what felt like an eternity, and when the pain grew too much to bear, a second voice whispered in Gens ear. There is no need to suffer so. Surrender, and your pain will disappear.
And in his pain and desperation, Gen foolishly believed him.
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With the Demons out in full force to guard Gens retreat, theres little I can do to kill him, but there is still plenty of fighting to be done. The Enemy forces are in disarray as the tribal Defiled flee the field, heeding the instructions of their Spectre parasites to get as far away from as possible. Thrilling as it is to send hundreds of thousands of Defiled into a panic, my mood is dark as I lead my quin-riders away from the Demons and take out my frustrations on the retreating Defiled.
Which only serves to put in a fouler mood.
Exterminating ones enemies sounds fun and all, but it takes a real toll on the psyche. The battle is no longer a battle, but a massacre, a bloodbath of butchery and carnage. Its one thing to kill a person in self defence, but another thing altogether to stab soone in the back while theyre running away. This isnt the first ti Ive chased down fleeing Defiled, and it certainly wont be the last, but no amount of rationalization or justification will ever make feel good about what I do here. Defiled or not, they are still human lives, ones which Mahakala claid could be saved.
Im not saying I want to save them. Killing these savages is... prudent, if not necessary, but doing it like this leaves a bad taste in my mouth. There are no innocents here, but its hard to see the Defiled as soulless monsters when they run screaming from you in wide-eyed terror.
Not too too hard seeing how theyre all wearing human-skin face-wraps, but still...
Though panic reigns supre, so of the Defiled are still holding their ground, naly the intimidating, heavily armoured bunch standing a kilotre away. Soon enough, orders from Hongji arrive telling the cavalry to stand down and return to camp. No doubt the Colonel thinks the Defiled retreat is a feint or a trap and doesnt want his cavalry to overextend, but I know better. The tribal Defiled are running because they are more or less controlled by the Spectres within them, and the Spectres are terrified of being Devoured, but the Defiled soldiers? I kept thinking there was sothing off about them, and I think Ive finally figured it out.
Theyre not Defiled, not really. Gen, his mounted bown, the disciplined soldiers, none of them are true Defiled. Or maybe Im wrong and its the other way around. The tribal savages, the ones were used to seeing, most of them are little more than hate-filled at-sacks for the Spectres to guide, but these new Defiled, these disciplined soldiers, Id say theyre more like... well...
The closest analogue I can think of is... .
Dont get wrong, theyve gone well past the point of drinking tea with Spectres, and in keeping with the analogy, Id say they have a tric butt-tonne of Spectre squatters bunking inside their heads, but the individuals themselves have yet to submit to their spiritual overlords, much like what happened with Baledagh and . Scary as it is to see what I could have beco, Ive no doubt the Spectres inhabiting those stoic Enemy soldiers are freaking the fuck out about being Devoured, but it sure as hell doesnt show in their hosts expressions. Even as I ride back to the Imperial camp, the Enemy soldiers busy themselves rounding up the fleeing Defiled to keep them on the battlefield, forcing the shirtless savages to join the armoured soldiers in their formation.
A line of tribesn followed by a line of soldiers, a literal at-shield for the army of Imperial soldiers turned Defiled.
Eager as I am for the battle to start anew, out on the exposed northern flank, my tired allies are less than enthusiastic about the process. Fatigue and lancholy hang heavy from their shoulders as they rest where they can, their morale low and courage faltering at the sight of this fresh, elite army arrayed against them. Fighting off hordes of shirtless savages is one thing, but now we face a disciplined, well-equipped army of forr Martial Warriors whove been turned by the Enemy. Normal Defiled are tough and fearless, but theyre also reckless and impulsive which makes them simple to deal with. If the Imperials had fought this battle on an open field, we would have been overwheld by the Enemys superior numbers within minutes, but hunkered behind our defensive positions, there was only so much surface area for the Defiled to assault. The Enemy didnt even bother to surround Sinuji beforehand, though I suppose they had to worry about Imperial reinforcents riding to the rescue or sothing. Regardless, as hard pressed as the Imperial forces were, we were only engaged with a fraction of the Enemy forces at any given ti, while the majority were stuck waiting around for their turn on the front lines.
The field is thick with corpses of the fallen, and so of those Defiled tribesn never even ca within spitting distance of the walls, but they dont care. Theyre here because the Spectres want their pound of flesh, and they dont care who they get it from.
This disciplined Defiled army presents a different sort of threat. Yo Ling showed the Empire what an organized Enemy force could do when led by a competent commander, and the Imperials have yet to figure out how to react. Even without knowing what I know, every soldier in Sinuji can see the Enemy not only outnumbers us, but theyre also better equipped to boot, with every single soldier clad in heavy armour or better. One could even argue the Enemy army is also better trained than the Imperial forces thanks to guidance from the Spectres, and doubly so because a large portion of our troops are little better than glorified militia, with little to no experience fighting against disciplined Martial Warriors on a battlefield.
Truth be told, Im not entirely certain Sinuji could hold against this fifty-thousand strong army of Enemy soldiers, even without the tribal auxiliaries to support them.
Luckily, after a brief, but stressful interlude, it turns out the Enemy army has a different plan in mind. Mounted on one of the few surviving gajashias, Gen breaks away from the army and rides towards Sinuji alone, his progress slow and stately as if out for a morning jaunt. Im surprised hes already conscious considering I literally bashed his face in, but the Spectres are probably masking the extent of his injuries as they often do, or he has soone skilled in Healing to support him. Regardless of how he recovered so quickly, this is my chance to end things once and for all, so without waiting for him to spew his despicable lies and hate-filled rhetoric, I ride out to et him on the fields of Sinuji.
Needless to say, Argat is not happy, but at least he knows better than to bring my morale down before a duel.
Having learned from my earlier mistakes, I reach for Balance and shut out the mass of Spectres still swirling about my Core. Its only been a few days, but already it feels so needlessly complicated absorbing Chi this way, having to focus and keep myself anchored amidst Heavenly Energys bipolar personalities, the calm embrace of the Mother and the raging demands of the Father. Lean too far one way or the other and things go wrong, either rendering slow and talent-less or turning into a rage-filled murder hobo. On the other hand, Devouring Heavenly Energy to turn into Chi cos with neither of those downsides and is as easy as flicking a switch, because all I need to do is think about opening my Core to the world, and the world rushes in.
Problem is, Devouring wont help here. Im topped up on Chi, there are no free-floating Spectres to Succ, and I need Balance to keep the Spectres in my gut from manipulating my thoughts.
Stopping halfway between the Defiled army and Sinuji, Gen dismounts and awaits my arrival, his smile far too cheerful for soone who just got the beating of a lifeti. His armour bore the brunt of the damage and remains wholly intact, but I felt muscles tear and bones break beneath my assault. I hurt him, I know I did, so why is he so... calm? Its eerie how he just stands there with one hand behind his back and the other stroking his beardless chin, not posturing like a young noble but rely doing what cos naturally to him. Whereas he normally gives the impression of soone trying too hard to be cool, here he looks so composed and relaxed its as if hes done this a thousand tis before, like were old friends eting for a chat instead of hated enemies here to duel to the death.
Most uncharacteristic of all is his silence, not uttering a single word even after I arrive. Instead, he rely watches , studies , as if seeing for the first ti, and I note a hint of surprise within his gaze. With the bearing of a wise old grandfather, he looks up and down to take my asure, and I notice his fingers are still normal length and not at all sharp. Its as if he were a different person wearing the sa skin, which leads to believe he has yet to wholly recover from his earlier beating. Not surprising at all since head wounds are tricky to fix, but I find this mute, zen Gen thoroughly unnerving to the extre and almost wish hed go on a rant about the Truth or sothing.
With Unity in hand and Tranquility strapped to my wrist, I dismount from Zabu and send him away, just in case Gen targets him out of spite. Silence blankets the battlefield as I stand across from my foe and expect him to open his mouth and speak, but Gen continues to stand there in tranquil serenity, utterly still except for his wandering eyes and chin-stroking hand. The Gen standing before , he deserves all the wolves, tigers, and dragons emblazoned on his armour, not like the snivelling, weak-willed Gen I fought earlier.
Maybe I shouldve rinsed so of this blood off or at least put away the gourds of Chi-infused water. I look like a dirty drunkard who murdered a pig and rolled around in its filth...
Having studied long enough, Gen cocks his head in silent question and waves forward, a haughty invitation to attack if Ive ever seen one. Problem is, his calm deanour and confident attitude have wondering if Ive stepped into a trap, but if so, its already too late. Even if there are twenty mole-rat Demons lurking around us, I cant walk away from this, not after already letting Gen get away once. Taking my stance, I opt to approach with caution instead of my standard, all-or-nothing charge, but my foe waits with the relaxed patience of a true Peak Expert, as if it were Akanai or Nian Zu standing across from instead of the weak and worthless Gen.
Inching closer ever so slowly, I slip into striking range but continue to hold back, wondering what hes got up his sleeve. Then, the point is moot as Gen makes his first move, a single step forward to close the distance. Reacting on instinct, I thrust out with Unity and freeze in surprise as the blade pierces through the Runic armour and bites deep into flesh and bone. Still wearing that sa, calm smile, Gen wrenches the glaive out of my hands and leaves it protruding from his chest, barely even flinching as it quivers in mid air. Nodding in encouragent, Gen waves forward and invites to co quickly and finish the job.
Despite all my fears and reservations, the temptation is too much. Balance on Windy Leaf followed by Pierce the Horizon, and in the blink of an eye, Peace joins Unity embedded in Gens flesh. Locking onto my wrist with his steely grip, Gens smile widens even further as he looms overhead, not growing in size, but presence as he nods at my third and final weapon, indicating I should give it a try. Even though Ive dealt him two killing blows, I still feel like Im the one in mortal danger, not him, but nonetheless, I slide Tranquilitys dual blades between his ribs and marvel as he accepts the blow without flinching. Grabbing my left arm as well, Gen and I stand locked in this deadly embrace, and try as I might, I cannot pull free.
Be proud, little Devourer, Not-Gen says, his eyes twinkling in delight. For this Sovereign has seen your potential and deems you too dangerous to leave alive.
...Who are you?
Shaking his head, Not-Gens smile fades away as his physical forms ripples before my eyes. Dead n need no answers.
Behind him, a swarm of Spectres take the skies and rush towards us, freed from their fleshly constraints as the Defiled soldiers cut down the savage tribesn as tribute to Not-Gens Demonic Transformation. My mouth goes dry and panicked struggles grow frantic, but his steely fingers dig deep into my flesh and hold in place, too strong to break free but not strong enough to rend through flesh and bone. Then, all too soon, ti runs out and the Demonic Ichor coursing through Not-Gens veins dissolves my Spiritual Weapons caught in his flesh.
The dam bursts.
The wall crumbles.
The forge breaks.
The drill cracks.
The Void shatters, and my Core, my Natal Palace, my Aura are no more. Everything within surges back out into the world, the Spectres no longer contained and Chi and Heavenly Energy no longer mine. Crippled and defeated, I fall to my knees and await death, for what else can a re mortal do?
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