I dont dream very often, and I never rember them.
Nightmares though? Those stay for hours after I wake, sotis even until Im ready to revisit them the next night. Granted theyve grown less frequent in recent tis, as several months away from the front lines and two wonderful marriages has done much to ease my troubled mind, and my tried and true tactic of smothering the bad thoughts with floofs is always applicable. Still, there are mornings where Ill wake up in a cold sweat with visions of dead comrades, horrific Demons, and zombie pig-n haunting my mories, while Mila or Yan stare at funny and ask if Im alright. Thankfully, I dont kick or scream in my sleep, I simply tense up, tremble, and sweat, but it still cant be a pleasant experience for my beloved wives. One good thing thats co from all this is Ive learned that Mama Bun is a genuine, self-taught support animal, who throws herself across my chest if Im trembling too much and nuzzles until I settle down. According to Yan, this usually works and calms down almost instantly, though Mila has yet to witness it since my nightmares are rarely bad enough to wake her in the middle of the night.
I can tell theyre both worried, but they ca to so sort of agreent with the rest of the family to let deal with it on my own terms. I cant imagine nightmares are a rarity amongst the survivors of this hellish death world we all inhabit, and while everyone has been extrely supportive, no one has co out and forced to talk about it, which is good because I wouldnt even know where to begin. Do I talk about reliving through my tis in the mines, or should I explain about the imnse backlog of guilt I have yet to process, from soldiers lost to truths left unspoken? What about my irrational regrets, like being unable to save Mahakala from Anathema, or not telling Grandpa Du about Panacea, or getting more people killed because they were trying to protect ...
That last one really hurts for so reason. Like, they all hurt to think about, but the last one hurts so much I cant keep thinking about it, so I go back to musing about nightmares. Theyre not all about blood, pain, and gore, because lets be honest, Ive gotten pretty used to all of the above. This ans my brain has to get creative when trying to tornt , and believe you , its up to the job. Sotis, Ill be running from sothing unknown, or frantically trying to complete so impossible task, or rushing to an exam Id completely forgotten about, and the sheer terror is enough to carry through the nightmare and keep from wondering about the details, because my brain just feels like panicking for no real reason. Thats just how it is, and considering my history of traumatic events and ntal issues, Im grateful things arent worse. The nightmares are simply a fixed constant of life, and Ive been getting by well enough with the support of my beautiful beloveds, loving family, and adorable floofs.
As for dreams, those are as rare as unicorns and double rainbows, unless you count daydreams. Okay, maybe less rare, since I dont think either of those things really exist, but I cant rember the last ti I woke up from a nice dream, which makes today all the weirder. I dont exactly rember dreaming, but I rember... doing sothing and having a sense of accomplishnt maybe, with many other warm, fuzzy feelings. Still half awake, I bask in the aftermath of these good vibes and try to rember what I was dreaming about, but the more I struggle to cling to the mories, the faster they slip away. All I can really bring to mind is a fleeting sensation of concepts I dont entirely understand anymore, but sohow did in my dreams. Its like dream logic, where everything makes sense, until you wake up and wonder how you ever got from point A to point D, without coming across B or C.
All I rember is I did sothing, and it worked because I know things. Knew them. I knew sothing about... Dio? It was ? No, thats not right. Dio Oxyotl Ribs and Nuclear Acid. How do you say that word? Nuh-cu-ler. New-clear? I think the dream also had sothing to do with Panacea, though theres a curious wrongness to the word now, as if I should be calling it sothing else, but I cant rember what. There was a table of periods too, though Im kind of glad I dont rember what it looked like, because now that I think about it, that sounds real gross.
Long story short, there was a problem, and I think I fixed it, but I dont rember what the problem was, what I did, or how I did it. Sothing happened, then I felt a big sense of accomplishnt, so Im pretty sure I succeeded, except now I feel... empty. The accomplishnt is still there, but its... foreign. Unfamiliar, like its not mine, and now theres a void in my heart, mind, and soul, because Ive just lost my greatest accomplishnt ever to soone I used to be. I was warm, confident, and most importantly, happy, but now I cant even rember what that felt like, and the emptiness remains to remind of the loss I cant rember.
Which sucks a big one. I still rember every last detail of having my fingernails pulled, but the greatest feel-good mont of my life was so fleeting it already seems like an illusion, and so unreal Im not ever sure if I really dreamt it, or Im dreaming of dreaming it. If thats the case, then theres sothing seriously wrong with , because then Id be dreaming about a dream in which I was unequivocally, impossibly happy. Probably because theres no other way I can envision that level of happiness. Fucked up right? Its easier to inception the idea of happiness to make believe it sohow exists, that theres true perfection out there, because I believe I will never make it that far on my own.
Hang on... Inception? That ans the beginning or the starting point of sothing. What the fuck is wrong with my vocabulary? I dont really know what that word has to do with dreams, but it fits, so whatever.
With that cheery thought in mind, I ignore my throbbing headache and force open my eyes, only to find myself enveloped by darkness, but no matter how much I yawn, blink, and stretch, my enhanced night vision refuses to kick in. Pretty sure I got that from almost going Defiled, seeing how no one else I know has night vision like except for other, almost Defiled Martial Warriors like Dastan, Ulfsaar, and a few others. Eventually, after inwardly grumbling about my malfunctioning eyes and muttering about candles, I steel my nerves and shift a leg to slide off the bed, only to discover I shifted the wrong way. The edge of the bed is on my right, which throws off since I almost always sleep on the other side and never have trouble orienting myself in the dark anymore, but as I slide the other way to get out of bed, the world finally cos into focus and I shy away from the cold air to retreat back into the warm comfort of my heavy blankets.
Scanning my familiar room with head buried in the pillow, Im struck by a certain sense of wrongness in everything around , though that might be the headache talking. I cant quite put my finger on what it is, other than the fact that its not the colours of the room, the texture of my blankets, the firmness of my pillow, or the physical arrangent of objects. Nothing stands out as different, but nothing seems entirely right, as if Im looking at things from the wrong perspective, but not in a physical sense. Its as if this isnt my room, but an exact replica which lacks the hoy, happy feelings I associate with the place. Maybe Im just not used to my new manor, though youd think Id have gotten used to the place after three months of living here. Then again, its been a long ti since Ive woken up alone in bed, which might have to do with why everything feels wrong. Im not bragging about my sex life or anything, since there are mornings when Yan wakes before I do and leaves to sleep, but I can always count on Aurie and Mama Bun to keep company, except theyre curiously absent, and I dont like it.
I was... doing sothing... before bedti. Sothing important that kept out of the house. Sothing unpleasant too, which ans Id rather not dwell on it, so I give up on going out to forage for floofs and roll over onto my side instead, hugging my pillow tight as I close my eyes and silence my tortured and conflicted mind. Part of wants to get up and find out whats wrong, but another, larger part of wants to wait out this headache, go back to sleep, and chase down that happy dream. Instead, neither side gets what it wants as I drift about in the unsatisfactory space between blissful dreams and waking consciousness for an unsettling amount of ti. Im not even sure if I fell asleep, but each ti I return to my senses and open my eyes to the lonely, not quite right room, I surrender to inertia and go chasing sweet dreams once more. How many tis I repeat my futile efforts, I cannot say, but I am... not happy, but satisfied with wallowing in this indistinct non-action, at least until the fog lifts from my mind and the world feels right again.
Except...
Shouldnt I have to pee? Ive been lying in bed for like... forever now, but Im as empty and unhurried as can be. And its quiet. Really quiet. Too quiet. No rustle of leaves or whispers of wind, no crickets chirping or frogs croaking. Im not hungry either, or even tired if I really think about it, just unwilling to get up and face the day without a hug from Aurie and a nuzzling from Mama Bun. In the absence of modern pharmacology, my floofs are my choice of drug, while a snuggle session with Mila or Yan is like thamphetamine for the soul. Well, without all the bad side effects of course, since drugs are horrible and will ruin your life, except for good drugs given to by my loving Taddy and sweet wifey Lin-Lin.
Still unable to sleep, I shift beneath the blankets and peer out the window, only to get the direction wrong again and have to readjust. No idea why I dont just move to my side of the bed, but its warm here and I dont want to change things. Straining my neck to get a good angle outside, my efforts earn nothing as all I can see is the dark nights sky, with the moon and stars hidden behind inky black clouds. Maybe less ti has passed than I thought, or maybe Im just having trouble sleeping again. Im no stranger to insomnia, though its been a while since Ive felt its disquieting hands settled upon my shoulders, like an unwanted frontal massage with full on eye contact from the creepiest person in existence. My insomnia pretty much went away after... well, after Baledagh went away, since it turns out having a split personality does horrible, horrible things to ones brain chemistry. Natal Souls are really an incredible useful application of Chi, but there are downsides to be wary of. While Chi appears endless in the Natal Palace, practising there does co at a cost. My constant fatigue and insomnia was probably a symptom of overusing Chi, which is an actual thing I never knew about. No one warned because they didnt know I had a second personality toiling away inside my Natal Palace at all hours of the day, and I never cared to ntion my constant fatigue, throbbing migraines, and inability to think clearly.
Other symptoms of Chi overexertion, headaches and a fogged mind, so maybe I cant sleep because Ive been using too much Chi? Doubt it, considering my Core is in shambles, but like I told Yan, human beings and Martial Warriors use Chi or ambient Heavenly Energy far more often than they suspect, so it might be overuse of Heavenly Energy. Humans use it to regrow teeth, and I assu animals use it to live for ridiculous amounts of ti, so who knows what else we inadvertently use Heavenly Energy for in our daily lives? Hell, we could be dependent on Heavenly Energy in so many ways and never even know it, like needing it to filter life-ending contagions out of the air or shield ourselves from flesh-lting levels of radiation.
Oh man... What if I never transmigrated, and rely reincarnated? I an, what if this was earth all along?
...
Nah, that cant be right. Ive seen maps, and poorly drawn though they might be, it looks nothing like the world I sort of rember. For one thing, I dont recall any giant super-continents from my old world, and... well, thats all I got.
Whatever. Who cares? Old world, new world, sa difference. The world still sucks, so I might as well stop wasting ti not sleeping and do sothing productive, like sleep. Or, failing that, I could get up and read or sothing, but that would be productive and I dont like that. Even though its technically the middle of the night, any day that doesnt start off with wives or floofs is bound to be a bad day, so I just want to put it off getting up for as long as I can. I shouldve installed pet doors, but I still havent gotten around to it. No chance Mama Bun or Aurie will co looking for , but maybe Yan will pop over for a midnight liaison, or Luo-Luo will try to seduce again. The Naked Woman play, a bold, yet effective gambit. Totally wouldve worked too, except the Abbot made his presence known just in ti. Then he did it again, except I was the one trying to seduce Luo-Luo, sorta. Man, that girl has so of the worst luck ever, getting clam jamd by the Abbot twice now. In his defence, he had a really good reason the second ti around, considering...
Oh shit. The Abbot. GangShu.
...
And Guan Suo!
...
AND PING PING! NOOOOOO!
Leaping out of bed, I pause briefly to make sure Im clothed before bolting out of my room, though it strikes as odd I was sleeping in my normal, everyday outfit. The unlit courtyard flashes by as I sprint through the overgrown grass and out the manor doors, which for so strange reason have been left open and unguarded. Rationalizing it as my Death Corps guards having been deployed to set a periter before I blacked out, my argunt falls flat as I do the sa after tripping over sothing hard and tallic only a few steps outside the manor. Thats what I get for running headlong into the night with faulty night-vision, but my muttered curses die down as I get a good look at what I tripped over.
Or rather who. Whom? No, now is not the ti, this is serious business.
Pale face frozen in death, Kuang Biao stares back at with unseeing eyes and lips stretched in a silent scream. Theres no mistaking his corpse for a sleeping soldier, as his torso abruptly ends around the rib cage, with the clean, glimring cuts in his dark, Death Corps armour indicative of the work of a Honed edge. My knee-jerk reaction is of course to look for his lower half, but the investigation doesnt take long as I spy another armoured, Death Corps corpse.
And then another.
And another.
And still, another.
Dozens, or maybe even hundreds of dead lay strewn about the fields, familiar Death Corps and Sentinels who died defending the manor doors. Dried blood, broken weapons, severed limbs, and putrefied organs help sell the picture, and as far as I can tell, these Warriors died quickly. Many died like Kuang Biao, bisected across the chest, and a bit of ntal rearrangent is enough to conclude that whatever killed them did so as easily as killing chickens, slaughtering multiple Martial Warriors with every slash. Even Spiritual Weapons provided no defence against this foe, as I spot the remains of Tenjin and Tursinai lying side by side, with their shattered weapons scattered in the blood-blackened grass around them.
The further out I look, the more powerful warriors I recognize, and I slowly piece together the story from the clues left behind. Theres Kyung, lying atop Grandpa Dus frail form, no doubt dying in an effort to protect him. Binesi and several comrades from the Fad Fifty ca up from behind the assailant, but it did them no good as their opponent was not caught off-guard and killed them all in one hit, Peak Experts dying like chaff to whatever calamity befell them. Ghurda and Naaran led several forr mbers of the Iron Banner in one last valiant stand right in front of the doors, and the killer took its sweet ti with them. The aged, amber-eyed Naaran left behind a whole corpse, embedded no, pulped and plastered across the manor walls, while Ghurda, strong, sweet Ghurda, kneels with axe in hand, as if ready to surge up and fight again even though her guts had long since spilled out of her belly.
This cant be happening.
Following the trail of violence away from the manor, I head towards the pond where I last saw Ping Ping and continue unravelling this grisly tale. A massive crater in the earth stretches across the once beautiful fields, with bits of steel and bone embedded within the soil itself. Standing at the epicentre of the impact is Nian Zu himself, whose ragged corpse is only recognize thanks to a shard of armour with half the Situ characters written across it and his unremarkable trademark mace sticking up out of the dirt. It seems he unleashed the Shooting Star directly at his feet, in a desperate gambit to take his foe out with him, but given the ss back at the manor, it would appear he wasnt successful.
The crater removed a good chunk of ground, so I circle the outer edges in search of more clues. After an empty stretch of grass and nothingness, I arrive at the exact spot where Guan Suo breathed his last, which I only know because his corpse is still there, utterly untouched and exactly as I rember it. The furrows of dirt where Ping Ping dug in to guard him are still there, but as I approach, a splash of vibrant red catches my eye and my heart stops in my chest. There sits a lock of Milas beautiful hair, as fiery as her personality and attached to a section of tattered scalp. With detached dread and growing horror, I spot more bits of my wife dispersed about the grass, including two untouched legs lying beside one another and directly under the majority of her splattered corpse.
Sothing stomped her flat, probably where she stood, unard and still groggy from sleep. My wife, my Mila, is dead and gone, and I wasnt here to save her.
No, I was here, I just couldnt save her. Nor could her parents avenge her, as evidenced by Akanais cold, lifeless remains splayed out face first in the grass, with Husolts hulking form kneeling in the grass beside her, his grieving, horrified expression frozen in death. Mom and Dad are also here, their corpses lying just short of the Shooting Stars blast radius and only a few centitres shy of holding hands. Mom died first, which I know because Dad left a trail of blood and guts behind him when he dragged his broken body over to her, but it seems his body gave out re seconds before he could make it to her side.
Cold anger burns in my chest as I turn away from this grueso and heartbreaking scene, my grief and anguish given over to the fiery inferno. This is my fault, I brought this upon them, why did I survive where no one else did, these thoughts and many more tumble through my mind as I make my way back to the manor, but my singular purpose drowns out all the noise as my smouldering anger takes over. Inside the courtyard, I spot the clues left behind which I missed in my haste to leave, with Yan and Eun dead in a corner and the corpses of my pets tossed haphazardly about. Luo-Luo and her handmaidens are also here, though not much of them is recognizable, as are several of Grandpa Dus student guards who moved in along with him. Grandpa really made himself at ho here, but that was kinda the point when I invited him, so I really shouldnt complain, though I could do without Euns efforts to frill up the place. Without bothering to study any of these macabre displays in depth, I march back to my room and take a seat on my bed before closing my eyes to seek calm. Thats more or less what Balance is, or at least, thats how I used to see it. Returning yourself to a neutral state, unaffected by emotion, though the more I learn about Balance, the less sure I am about anything.
But I am sure about one thing.
This is all bullshit.
You know, I say, once I feel calm enough to control myself and ignore the torrent of accusations playing on repeat in my mind. It amazes that I used to believe your bullshit. Like, how gullible do you think I am? My words echo out into the silence of the void, and after a few seconds without a reply, I shake my head and sigh. Really? Youre going to pretend Im not talking and keep playing gas? Real mature.
The dark room fades around , and is replaced with a sterile, white room, so bright and nondescript it makes my head spin. Theres nothing to focus on, so I focus on my hands instead, until out of nowhere, I beco aware of a kindly grandfather type sitting across from . There is no chair underneath him, rely empty air, just as theres no bed underneath , for this is not the real world. I dont know whose Natal Palace were having this eting in, but Im guessing its not mine seeing as I havent been able to visit since I shattered my Core. That ans Im either in Ping Pings Core, which has implications Id rather not get into, or inside this stately and imposing aged seniors Core, which ans Im kinda boned.
Why do all my enemies look so sharp and put together? Just once, Id like an enemy with a hunched back or is prematurely balding or sothing.
You look better than I expected, I begin, studying Zhen Shi from head to toe and taking in his elaborately embroidered robes depicting horrific acts of war, engraved jewellery fashioned in the shape of human body parts, and his silken, luxurious, and neatly grood full-faced beard, all white and soft like a unicorns tail. I figured youd look younger. Weird right? I an, I know youve been alive for eight-hundred years, but like... who wants to live that long as a geriatric senior?
The amusent drops from his expression like a sack of bricks as his eyes narrow in irritation, which is suspiciously transparent. Youd think he would have learned how to hide his emotions better, especially considering how he used to be an Imperial Scion of worth. I dont know the details, but according to Luo-Luo, they dont hand out Shen Zhen (Divine Truth) titles to anyone. Divine True Corpse doesnt sound like the most prestigious designation around, but even Divine True Diarrhea would be miles above my station, though I have no idea what the criteria are for naming conventions. Either way, Zhen Shi, or more accurately, Shen Zhen Shi, is quite possibly the most dangerous person alive right now, which ans angering him probably isnt the best idea in the world.
Well, I whatever. I have a headache and I wasnt feeling very kind. Also, Im pretty sure he cant directly kill here, else he wouldve already done so instead of playing make-believe with Spectres and illusions.
The young and the foolish know not the true aning of fear. Stroking his beard with a strong, supple hand, Zhen Shi sighs and shakes his head. No matter. Little Worm will learn this lesson soon enough.
Little Worm? Psh. Sticks and stones. Falling Rain thinks Old Fart needs to hear how speaking in the third person sounds pretentious as fuck. See how he likes it. Jerk. Now, is there a reason for this visit, or are you just smitten by my dashing good looks and rakish charms?
Quips and insults do little to hide fears and insecurities, little worm. Despite the puffed up retort, the set of Zhen Shis clenched jaw gives away his anger as he studies close. A mystery, you are, an insignificant fly who irritates this Sovereign so, yet evades death ti and ti again through nothing more than random chance and fortunate happenstance. Long have you been a thorn in this Sovereigns side, and for this, you, little worm, have earned so small asure of respect.
Gee, thanks.
My next words cut short as his hand clamps around my throat, and all of a sudden, Im not sitting anymore. He didnt rush over and lift off my invisible chair, he just appeared with hand around my neck and my chair disappeared, leaving caught like a chicken bound for slaughter. Your impertinence does you a disservice, so this Sovereign shall help you hold your tongue, while enlightening you on matters of importance. With a smile smug enough to be called gloating, he materializes a War Bond in his free hand and holds it up for inspection. While your ability to elude death is but a minor annoyance, this sche of yours is vexing to the extre, for its existence stands in complete opposition to the ideals this Sovereign holds dear. Finance and politics have no place in this world, for they are the tools of the weak to control the lives of the ignorant. Greed is a powerful weapon, so this Sovereign comnds little worm for his clever innovation, and sees you in new light.
Releasing from his grip, he smiles and waits for to gasp and catch my breath, but I dont give him the satisfaction. While he was droning on about his ideals, I was rembering that this isnt my body and I dont need to breathe, so I could speak even with his whole fist wedged down my throat, though Id really rather not try it. Brushing my chest off before taking my invisible seat once more, I raise myself until Im looking down on him from above and say, You have a curious way of showing respect, considering I just caught you making an elaborate illusion ant to drive to despair.
What makes little worm think what he saw was an illusion?
For one brief, terrifying mont, I wonder how much of what I just witnessed was true and how much was false, because so of it might well have co to pass. We forget because Ping Ping is always so careful, but she could easily kill soone like Mila whilst lost in the throes of panic, and I could see Akanai and Husolt losing themselves in rage while trying to avenge her. What about Mom and Dad? Would they hold back if they thought I was in danger? Not a chance, which ans they could very well have died...
No, none of that happened. It was all made up. It didnt make sense. The bodies all told a touching story, an obvious and picturesque one at that. Mom and Dad, Akanai and Husolt, Tenjin and Tursinai, Kyung and Grandpa Du, one or two such heartfelt tales of death and sacrifice I can believe, but there were just too many to have happened organically. Real life isnt so neat and tidy. People die in ugly, ssy ways, leaving things unsaid and tasks unfinished. Even people I didnt really recognize had stories about them, and then there were stories I didnt entirely understand, like Naaran smushed against the wall. Why him? Why leave him mostly intact for to identify? Why not Grandpa Du, or Dad, or soone who Ive actually had a real conversation with? Not to say I dont care about Naaran, but he holds himself apart which ans I dont really know him all that well, yet a lot of effort went into arranging an artful death for him.
There were other things. The sll, or rather lack thereof. The fall didnt hurt enough either. My missing night-vision and the shitty replacent. Milas pulped body strewn in untouched grass, and, the most telling thing of all, the fact that I cant sense my Spiritual Weapons sitting in my room over in Mom and Dads manor, which kept throwing off. For the last year, Ive been unconsciously using my connection with them to orient myself, and without it, its like Im walking around blind and deaf, which is incredibly disconcerting. Thats why I felt like everything was off, because Zhen Shi didnt bother to replicate it, because...
Because he doesnt know about it, or my night vision, and hes gotten so used to fields of corpses he completely forgot about the sll. Hes not perfect and all-knowing, and neither are the Spectres. He has blind spots, he makes mistakes, which ans that even if hes a Divinity, hes as mortal as the next person.
Which ans he can die, and thats good enough for .
Please, I retort, rolling my eyes with feigned indifference. Your half-assed illusions are barely believable, once you understand the ga. Thats the only reason youve stayed ahead for so long, because no one else knew you were playing, but now that youre out in the open, your parlour tricks are diocre at best. Like watching a soap-opera with ham-fisted acting and imrsion breaking product placent. Once you see it, you cant unsee it, and while he had going at first, I dont think I truly believed him even for a second.
Such disrespect, Zhen Shi hisses, and his hand darts out to grab , but this ti Im ready for him. No matter how far he stretches his hand, it will never reach my throat, simply because I will not allow it, and my will makes it true. From an outsiders perspective, the two of us zip about the unending whiteness in a struggle to capture and evade, but from mine, we simply face one another while the world moves around us. My practice with Pong Pong serves well, as this is almost the sa as moving through water, except now, Im moving the water around .
Zhen Shi is good at the ga, but not as good as Pong Pong, so we are stuck at an impasse. Maybe he can eventually chase down and overpower , but it wouldnt change anything, because I am not here in the flesh. Our little back and forth lasts longer than it should since Zhen Shi refuses to give up, but as the seconds stretch into minutes, my amusent gives way to awkward pity and I consider throwing him a bone. Brightening up at the idea, I sigh and say, Fine, while allowing him to grab by the taphysical throat. Happy?
Insolent worm, he hisses, releasing his grip in a rage. All but growling his next words, he says, But you are a talent who shows much promise, and much can be forgiven. Not just in the Martial Path, but in the tools of man as well, and this Sovereign has always been magnanimous in the search for Truth. Extending a hand in invitation, he says, Join this Sovereign, and he will not only restore you to glory, but also guide you along your new Path and bring you to never before seen heights. Refuse, and this Sovereign will crush everyone and everything you hold dear, while you stand crippled and helpless to stop it.
Taking all of a second to consider the offer, I shoo him away and say, Hard pass. Tempting offer, but I bet you made the sa one to Gen, and we all know how that went.
Hmph, Gen. Zhen Shis sneer drips with contempt as he scoffs at my refusal. Blessed with luck and talent, yet possessed by such agre dreams and lack of ambition, a waste of potential and promise. Still, not an investnt entirely without return, for this Sovereign is nothing if not adaptable. Eyes burning with fervour and excitent, he extends his hand once more, this ti as if asking to take it. You, little worm, live in the dirt, and you cannot see the grand designs this Sovereign has in mind. You stand on the wrong side of history, for the Dog Emperor and his Imperial Clan are but parasites on the human race, and this Sovereign intends to remove them. You, little worm, you toil day and night to help the people, but while your intentions are good, your thods are flawed. You seek to feed, clothe, shelter, and provide for them, and in doing so, you consign them to death. The strong thrive, and the weak die, such is the law of nature, and what you do goes against it.
Sure, if we were all still dirty apes living in the jungle. Scoffing at how stupid Zhen Shi sounds, I shake my head and explain, Humanitys strength doesnt co from strength of arm or durability of hide. It is our minds which set us apart, and my flawed thods are indicative of that. Your Grand Design would have us down in the dirt fighting wolves and tigers with fists and fortitude, while eschewing bow and spear because it would make us weak, but you dont understand the heights humanity can reach with our minds alone. I do, because Ive seen it, and I wont let so power-crazed maniac hell-bent on elevating humanity into half-Defiled abominations ruin my dreams of indoor plumbing.
Im sick and tired of shitting in an outhouse. It beats shitting in a chamber pot, but it stinks and I hate it.
Bah. Only a fool who knows not the heights of the Heavens would dare scorn its power so. Waving his hand in dismissal, Zhen Shi harrumphs and says, So be it. This Sovereign sees in you the hand of fate, a tool sent to stop this Sovereigns grand designs, but fate is not enough. Curling his lip in a derisive sneer, he adds, Especially when fates champion is a broken, beleaguered, failure of a child who knows not what he is ddling in.
I know enough, and Ill muddle through the rest. Seeing an end to the conversation, I decide to test my theory and raise one hand to grip him. Not his neck, but Zhen Shis entire body, held fast in a giant, invisible hand controlled by mine, and to everyones surprise, it actually works. Look at that, I say, marvelling at my work and enjoying Zhen Shis shock and anger while I try and fail to outright kill him. Im learning already. It takes an incredible amount of focus to keep him from slipping away, like holding onto a thousand slippery eels trying to wiggle free in different directions. Theres no way I can keep him here though, not without staying forever, so I might as well get rid of him. Positioning my other hand to flick him square in the nose, I add, By the way, tell Zhen Shi, the real Zhen Shi, that I look forward to eting him. You may have been the one to cripple , but ultimately, I cant hold a puppet responsible for his actions. Doing my best not to smile, I plant a small seed of dissent in the Natal Soul before , because Im positive thats who Im dealing with. The real Zhen Shi cant possibly be this... temperantal, which ans this is his Natal Soul whose been infected by Gens mannerisms. If thats the case, then maybe I can sow so discord between the Natal Soul and the original. Im not sure if Natal Souls can actually take over the original, but that would be an improvent since it would be much easier dealing with this... Gen/Zhen Shi amalgamation persona than the scary, unseen puppet master himself. After all, you only exist so long as he wills it. I may be a worm, but you? Youre nothing more than a slave.
With that said, I unleash the godfather of all finger-flicks and send Not-Gen flying into the all-white walls, which shatter to reveal the empty darkness of the Void. Taking a mont to look around, I see and sense nothing, which is less than helpful in determining if Im in my Natal Palace or soone elses. With nothing else to try, I close my eyes and will myself awake, but when I open my eyes again, Im faced with the sa black, unending Void all around , and with no Ping Ping, Pong Pong, or Zhen Shi to send back to my body.
...
Okay then. Might as well try again.
And again.
Andddd again.
One more ti.
...
Ill try twenty more tis, and then Ill think of sothing else.
...
Might as well keep trying, since theres nothing else to do.
...
Having long since lost count of which try Im on, I close my eyes, will myself awake, and open them again. Closing my eyes to try again, they snap open as I take in the darkness around , and find that its not so dark after all. This isnt the void, this is the real world, with back in my room at the manor. Rolling over to sit up, it takes a mont to register I barely even moved and that it takes a lot more effort to sit up than it should. Hello? I croak, or at least I try to, as my voice cos out dry and strained. Thankfully, I dont have to try again, as sothing shuffles in the darkness and scampers around on my bed, as if running in excitent yet mindful of my presence. After a few circuits around the bed, the floof finally slows down as my eyes adjust to the dark in splendid Defiled darkvision.
Only to find an adorably pint-sized Ping Ping wagging her turtle tail on the bed beside while tippy-tapping up a storm. Her smooth curves and wide eyes lt my heart, as does her loving Aura and furiously wagging tail. Before is Natal Palace Ping Ping, albeit much smaller than usual, though now shes the perfect size to cuddle and hold. Hey sweet girl, I half-croak and half-whisper. Good to see you survived. Learned how to Aura too I see, which is cool.
So still I didnt even see it, I flinch as another floof ambles across my bed, and I co face to face with the chonkiest, grumpiest red panda in all of existence. Rather than coming to say hi, the darling bandit bear ambles over, hugs Ping Ping around the neck, and glares at in a fit of adorable pique, all of which strikes as too cute to be real. Reaching over to pat the panda earns a dainty swat, though it looks like the little chonker gave it his all. Its adorable, hes baring his claws and fangs, but theyre so smooth and nubby. Leaving him alone for now, I tickle Ping Pings chin and ask, So you remade your Natal Palace already? Whys my room here now?
Of course, she cant answer, so I settle for a hug and nuzzle instead, and she finally gets so excited she lets loose with a chorus of squeals. Footsteps sound outside the door, and so seconds later, Luo-Luo sashays through wearing her silken nightgown and a tired smile. Shush sweet girl, she says, her voice lodic as ever, You keep doing this, and we might stop coming in to see whats wrong. Lord Husband will wake when he is - gasping in fright, Luo-Luo freezes in place before letting loose with a piteous cry of, Lord Husband! Rushing over with unladylike haste, she jumps into the bed and wraps her arms around my neck while driving headfirst into her frilly bosom, which oddly enough is more unpleasant than it sounds. I think she wrenched my neck clean off, and Ill need a long, hot soak to smooth out the kinks. Youre finally awake!
...Ugh, I rasp, worried about the implications of actually being in the real world with a pocket-sized Ping Ping, but there are more pressing concerns to worry about. What do you an, finally?
Youve been unconscious for almost two weeks now, Lord Husband. Freeing from her warm, bosomy embrace, Luo-Luo cradles my head and forces to look her in the eyes, her expression a mixture of joy and concern while I idly wish I could hug the red panda which they no doubt got to comfort Ping Ping. The Defiled have marched, and the war has begun in earnest. Rumours say the front line is readying to fall back, but whether they can evade capture before arriving at the second line of defence is a matter of so debate. Pausing as if unsure she should tell this next bit, she bites her lip and says, Sister Mila, Yan, and Alsantset left almost fifteen days ago to lend their efforts to the fight, and I am unsure how they currently fare.
...
Welp, out of the fire and into the frying pan. I suppose a few days to rest and recuperate wouldve been asking for too much, but at least I have a chonky red panda to cuddle now...
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