Fight or flight is very different when youre no longer beholden to bodily instincts.
Almost everyone has experienced it at one ti or another. Danger or excitent presents itself, and the world slows down until it stops. The pounding of your beating heart echoes in your ears as it sends a spike of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your mouth dries, your skin goes clammy, your body shakes, and your mind is either racing at a million thoughts per minute or silent as the grave, rendered helpless by the staggering overflow of information presenting itself. These circumstances are not ant to encourage careful deliberation and rational thought, but rather instinct and reaction, readying your body to do the aforentioned fight or flight.
The problem is, the foundations for basic human instinct were laid down back when we were naked, fire-worshipping cave-dwellers. Humanity has co a long way since then, and while our instincts served us well back when we competed with wolves and tigers for food and shelter, theyre all sorts of useless for the modern-day warrior. Even here and now in the Empire, where we fight with spears and bows rather than tanks and rifles, most of a soldiers training is ant to counteract instinctual behaviour. When faced with an overwhelming horde of enemies, for most, their instincts will be screaming at them to charge forward and fight or break ranks and run, but a soldiers training teaches them to stand fast and hold strong. When fighting as a unit, ten average Martial Warriors should easily fend off forty to fifty average Defiled tribesn, simply by virtue of combined arms and cooperation, the effectiveness of which only scales up from there. A hundred infantry cant do much against a thousand Defiled, and it might well look like all hope is lost, but if those infantry were to follow their instincts and start running for hills, the three-hundred heavy cavalry waiting in the wings wont have a nice, clumped up crowd of Defiled to hamr away at.
What Im trying to get at is, when it cos to warfare, base instincts are rarely correct. If they were even remotely effective, then training and experience wouldnt be so important. Ive been fighting in this particular war since I was sixteen, and I still dont have it all down pat, because here and now, my first instinct is to cut and run. Flee back to the District and seek shelter in the manor, where my family and guards can protect . A dumb move, if I were to make it, because not only would I be putting innocent civilians and noncombatants in danger, I would also be leading a squad of readied assassins towards my sleeping loved ones, which I fear would not end well for them. These killers ca prepared to face not just and my guards, but also Dad, Akanai, Grandpa Du, and all the other notable Warriors in my family. They sent sixty killers, which ans they either dont have any more to spare, or they thought sixty was enough to finish the job.
So in a way, coming out here to get stabbed wasnt the worst thing in the world, assuming I survive of course.
This is the conclusion I co to as I stare into my would-be killers hazel eyes, brimming with suspicion and disbelief. Hes surprised because he didnt think itd be this easy, that I would just leave my bastion of safety and co out to et him alone, unard, and unprompted. Much like with everyone else, this mans thoughts and emotions are all right there for anyone to read, though Im still not entirely sure how Im able to pick up on it. Its just... there, as perceptible as a scent in the air or a breeze across my skin, just sothing I know and understand as easily as breathing. There is no remorse in him, no regret or sympathy, only professional concern and curiosity as to why his targets behaviour is so unexpected. Beneath it all, lies a bed of relief, because the task hed been given was not an easy one, and hes glad everything worked out. Murderer though he might be, hes glad this mission turned out so well, because the alternative wouldve left many of his comrades dead or injured.
But his relief is asured and muted, because he knows his job is not yet done. Theres more to his mission, and hes already thinking about how to best carry it out, because there are still others he has yet to kill.
Its been three months since I lapsed into this coma, three months since Zhen Shi trapped in a lifeti of suffering, and three months since I severed everything and anything in order to retreat into the Void. This morning, I Devoured all my nearby Natal Souls and took in all the sorrow, misery, anguish, and regret Id severed away in recent weeks. Then, I spent every second from lunch onwards subrged in joy, love, and floof in order to Balance all that gloom and doom, but still it wasnt enough. Now, thanks to these assassins, I am able to experience what is left in the gamut of human emotion, the darker, more malevolent side that lurks just beneath the surface of our minds.
These bastards were sent here to kill not just , but also the people I love. I dont know if they have specific targets or if they were ordered to kill everyone and leave no survivors, but regardless of their intent, I will not allow them to even try.
Fuelled by black hatred masquerading as righteous fury, my fist hurtles towards the handso assassins face, and my heart soars with joy and satisfaction as I watch his features crater beneath the impact. The warm spray of blood and bone sets my skin to tingling as I take in the heady, tallic scent of death and marvel at my newfangled toughness. Despite exploding my foes head with a single punch, my hand is neither bruised nor scratched, protected by my erging Domain and the rough, yet pliable skin resulting from weeks of carefully asured dicinal baths. While a sharp knife will still cut , I could spend hours punching solid steel without scuffing my knuckles, much less breaking my hand like expected, for which I have Taduk, Taiyi Zhushen, and Li TieGuai to thank.
Bodily refinent, high cost for minimal gains, but Ill take every advantage I can get.
As my Domain billows out into the murky darkness, it reveals the general distribution of my foes as their erging Domains materialize to obstruct my own, forming a cage to prevent both sound and Sending from passing through. Though I am unable to sense the exact locations of every assassin here on the plains, its easy to sense where their resistance is weakest, the sa way I can tell the difference between a sturdy wooden door and a paper one through re touch. Sowhat unsurprisingly, the weakest point is due north, while the strongest resistance is due south, which is where they expect to run if given the chance. More proof that instincts arent always reliable, but east and west are only slightly less guarded, as the Sentinel camp lies in the first direction, and an Imperial training camp in the other, while to the north, there is nothing but farms and grassland, with the occasional handful of houses to break up the monotony.
My foes an to herd away from the District, away from safety and reinforcents, but while they think theyve got trapped here on the plains, they will soon learn that our roles are reversed.
For I am the Predator, and they, nothing more than prey.
A single bound brings away from my headless foe, which still stands despite my lengthy introspection. More importantly, it brings out of sight as I disappear before their very eyes, rescinding my Domain until it barely extends past my skin. This leaves blind to their presence, but it does the sa to my foes as I slink into Concealnt and scurry through the frosted grass, an eager predator searching for a chance to strike. Numbers an little in a battle like this, for the sa darkness they used to hide their approach has now turned against them to assist . Defiled see better than Imperials in the dark, but even they need so light to see, and with heavy clouds obscuring both moon and stars, I can barely see my hand in front of my eyes. It will be the sa or possibly worse for them, and while my Domain is large enough to uncover them all in a single sweep, none of them can say the sa.
As I lead my foes on a roundabout chase, I go over my options, of which there are precious few. I have no weapons and no ans to obtain one, aside from the black blade still embedded in my flesh. Poison seeps into my blood and targets my nerves with its paralytic agent, but a simple working of Chi and Panacea breaks down the insidious toxin into harmless waste products, which will later be filtered out by my liver and kidneys. Ill be pissing black sludge later and will need to drink plenty of fluids to flush it all out, but I cant afford to remove the blade just yet, not before I figure out how theyre tracking . Its unmistakable now, because as we move ever northward at breakneck speeds, I can sense they arent even trying to find through Domain, but rather honing in on my position no matter how many twists and turns I take and moving to ensnare within their web.
Each step brings hundreds of ters away, but still I remain trapped within their encirclent. Worse, theyre closing in around , and if I go too far in any direction, I will be caught in their taphysical trap and cut down as I pass. How irritating. I cant kill them if they know Im coming, especially not injured and weaponless as I am, but I dont understand how they keep finding . The Empire has so secretive ans to track Officers tokens and such, but I dont have mine on , nor am I wearing anything given to by the Imperials. Sight, scent, and sound are all covered by Concealnt, while Ive yet to feel them even try to find through Domain, not that they could if they tried, which leaves...
Ah right. Ive encountered this before, in what feels like a lifeti ago, with killers hot on my trail no matter how carefully I ran. The Society used so of Songs blood to create so sort of mystical tracking matrix, one which they claid could not be blocked. The only solution was to burn the tokens containing the targets blood, which prompted us to launch a near-disastrous assault on the Society encampnt in hopes of destroying all their trackers. That ended poorly, with Yan taking grievous injury in the attempt and the rest of us only making it out of there by the skin of our teeth, mories which prompt a flood of emotions I put aside to process later while focusing on the vital information before . As I recall, the tracking matrix works through trigonotry, with a single device pointing towards the target, so its best to use two or more devices in different locations to pinpoint the targets actual location. Its not perfect, as they have no way to account for elevation, but using blood to set up so sort of triangulation device is quite honestly so of the most magical shit Id ever heard about since coming to this world. No one I asked knew how it worked, but to be fair, I didnt ask that many people, because in those days, I was scared shitless all the ti and working really hard to get over the trauma of the chase and focus on the coming calamities instead.
No matter. I made it out in one piece, and I know one thing for certain: my foes are definitely using a tracking matrix to hone in on my location. I have no idea how I know this, Im absolutely certain this is the case, so sure it never occurs to to question it before setting to work on a solution. None of my opponents know where I am exactly, theyre working in independent groups to keep trapped here between them. The matrix always points in my direction, so the answer becos clear. Intent gives purpose to the Predator as I make my presence known, expanding tendrils of my Domain which ultimately give my location away, but only to about twenty individuals. As expected, my foes do not fall upon imdiately, because even though Ive revealed myself to a third of them, they still need to pass that information along to their comrades before they can act. This leaves plenty of ti to study their movents as I dip and weave about the plains of Central, circling around in a wide loop so as not to get too far and isolated. Six Cloud-Steps later, I rescind my Domain after identifying five distinct groups amongst my foes, all moving independently yet working together to tighten the noose about my neck.
It belatedly occurs to that I couldve hidden the presence of my Domain from my foes, the sa way I slipped past my guards and away from the manor unnoticed. Just goes to show that this sort of instinctive knowing without knowing isnt perfect, but alas, its all I have to work with. I can barely direct myself to squeeze Taduks hand when taking full control of all my faculties, so I can only rely on this janky thod of independent control to face my foes on the field of battle. In so ways, its similar to how I used to fight as Baledagh and Brother, with the forr taking control of the body while the latter independently offering advice. Now, its just offering Intent and the Predator taking action, that deadly killer who erged during the final battle of Sinuji.
I still have no earthly idea why Zhen Shi chose that na for , but it just feels right.
Its not another personality or Natal Soul. At least Im pretty sure it isnt. No, Its just using the State of Enlightennt to the fullest extent, to the point where it feels like Im experiencing current events from two different perspectives, one which is moving in the mont, and one where ti has slowed to a crawl. I think thats the answer, though it doesnt explain why the Predator can Conceal, Cloud-Step, use Domain, and other stuff without lessons or practice...
Questions best left for another ti, for the jaws of this deadly trap are fast closing in around . Five groups, five matrices, and every group is running directly towards at all tis. However, I know the tracker only indicates direction, because if it told them any more, they wouldnt need more than one to find , information I can use to my advantage. Though Ive rescinded my tendrils of Domain, I still rember where each group is, and unlike them, I know which direction my quarry is headed: straight towards . Thus, all that is left to do is to set the Predator upon them with the darkest of Intents.
Kill.
A single Cloud-Step brings into a crowd of my foes, all of whom are caught off-guard by my sudden arrival, my Concealed presence clearly felt within their overlapping Domains. Professionals that they are, their surprise barely lasts for the blink of an eye, but that is all the ti I need to unleash my Mountain Collapsing Stomp, one containing all the energy Id been storing up since leaving my first kill behind. The silence shatters as the ground roars in pain, and I allow myself a mont to appreciate the power Ive unleashed. The earth crumbles beneath my foot as pillars of hard-packed dirt and stone erupt on all sides, and a fissure opens up and swallows five unfortunate souls, their death knells cut short as they are buried and crushed beneath the incalculable weight of the shifting earth. The remaining seven are thrown into the air whereupon they are battered about by flying debris, shocked and disoriented by my unexpected and overwhelming attack.
Hardly as impressive as Mitsue Juichis entrance onto the field of battle, but its not bad for a first try.
Broken bones are the least of my foes worries as I set to deadly work, traversing through the unstable chaos with laughable ease. The stone and debris seem to move to accommodate , whether it be to offer a steady foothold where none otherwise exists or veer away from striking as it approaches my position. So form of highly advanced Deflection, it seems like, though rather than pushing things away, it catches them in an invisible current which moves to my will.
Similar to how I clung to that Lizard Demons tail in Sinuji, except back then I was subrged within the current, whereas now the current flows around . A subtle distinction, but an important one, because the forr left to the rcy of outside forces, while the latter allows the freedom to almost swim through the chaos and clutter. A hop and a skip brings within arms reach of my next target, chosen not for his proximity, but because he seed most likely to recover first. A glimpse back into my mories show that this man not only reacted to my arrival first, but also leapt into the air a fraction of a second before I unleashed my Mountain Collapsing Stomp, allowing him to escape the worst of the impact. Currently, hes partway through his spinning leap, rotating his entire body about in mid-air while utilizing his Domain to forcibly Deflect anything that cos into reach, all in hopes of avoiding the worst. Its not a perfect solution, but its worked so far, and might well have continued working had I not co to finish what I started.
Seeing him spinning about at such ridiculous speeds, a simple solution cos to mind as I reach out with both hands and grab him firmly by the head. An object in motion tends to stay in motion, and an object at rest stays at rest, so while I stop his head from spinning with sheer muscle, the rest of him continues to twirl about, shattering his neck and spine into who knows how many pieces. Just like that, a man who I suspect might well have been a Peak Expert dies by my hand, not because Im necessarily stronger than him, but because I caught him by surprise, an elent I would love to be Blessed by, were the Mother Above so willing. Alas, such powers are not for re mortals, so I will have to rely on my own cunning to keep utilizing this most effective of elents.
Pausing to study my foe, my hands go through his pockets with alarming speed, so fast it actually feels like Im moving at normal speed, while the rest of the world continues on in slow motion. My search uncovers only a single poisoned black blade in his free hand, and I notice he also lacks the customary disfigurents I usually see in Wraiths, as theyre typically even uglier than your average Defiled. He could have only recently turned to the Enemy, but despite wearing dark, flowing Western robes, he lacks the leathery, sun-tanned complexion of your conventional desert dwelling Westerner. The mans skin looks like its never seen the touch of the sun, a pale yet healthy complexion found only in the most pampered of Centrals Martial Warriors, alongside a full head of soft, silky, and luxuriously thick hair. Whoever he was, he was a man of wealth and plenty, but other than that, theres little left to identify who he is or who might have sent him.
Which is hardly unexpected. I an, its not like hed carry signed and sealed orders when going out to kill soone, but any clue wouldve been nice. Instead, Im left with nothing besides a wooden compass looking thing which I suppose is the tracking matrix, and his unused Wraith Blade which is a twin to the weapon embedded into my belly. Briefly considering if I should remove it on my way to my next target, I decide its best to let sleeping dogs lie, as its not life threatening and pulling it out would ruin all the Chi workings I already have in place. It can wait until ti and focus are not in such short supply.
Though I am unable to Hone or Amplify the Wraith weapon, its pointed edge is more than sharp enough to cleave through the closest assassins neck, albeit falling short of actually decapitating him. Despite being physically stronger than Ive ever been with Amplified muscles out the wazoo, cutting a mans head clean off isnt as easy as it looks, especially when said man is being buffeted about in the midst of a man-made earthquake. Learning from my mistake, I stab my next target through the neck, which takes more accuracy and focus, but dead is dead and speed is king. Although thus far I have yet to notice any armour under their robes or Runic symbols etched into them, I cant afford to stop and swing at the sa enemy twice. Already, my Mountain Collapsing Stomp has blown its load and things are winding down, yet Ive only killed eight of twelve in this squad while forty-seven more are closing in on this position. Even grabbing a second Wraith blade doesnt speed things up, as the bulk of my ti is spent moving from one target to the next.
Another thing I didnt take into consideration before setting out was stamina. I just spent the last three months lying in bed, so Im not in the best of shape. Sure, the body reinforcent baths helped strengthen my muscles, but cardio is a different sort of beast altogether as my lungs threaten to give out. Thats not all due to poor fitness, but also because I cant filter dust from the air and keep myself from inhaling clouds of it with every breath. The assassins arent too badly impacted by it because theyre dying before it takes effect, but Im only noticing it now because Im suppressing the urge to hack up a lung. All in all, things are going from bad to worse, especially since the explosion was probably blocked by the Sound Barrier which ans no one is coming to my rescue, a minor possibility I was kinda banking on if things didnt work out in my favour.
Like right now.
My next target blocks my first attack and counters with a riposte, but one lacking stability as he has yet to find his footing. Still, his response forces to parry and lead him to overextend, allowing to drive my second blade straight up into his exposed chin. A loss of a single second, but it buys enough ti for the remaining three to recover and rob of my only advantage. A monts hesitation costs dearly as the opportunity to escape slips away and Im beset upon by all sides, their dark blades all but invisible to the eye as I dodge, block, parry, and Deflect for all Im worth. Despite the impressive start, I am still clearly outmatched and they know it. Worse, theyre fanatics in every sense of the word, leaving obvious openings that all but dare to take the trade, which isnt fair because thats my trick. Problem is, they can afford to make this trade since their allies are close behind. Its clear that these people an to kill , and so long as they succeed, survival is rely an unexpected bonus.
Ah. I see. Its not confidence that brought them here, but a willingness to die in order to succeed. Oddly enough, that makes feel a little better, because it ans they probably dont have a single Warrior capable of killing Akanai, but were rather planning to catch her by surprise or wear her down through strength in numbers. That ans I still have a chance. A slim chance, but Im no stranger to overcoming long odds.
The battle unfolds before my eyes, and though it sounds egotistical to even think this, I am in sheer awe of my Martial Prowess. With two Wraith blades in hand, I fend off my three foes, my weapons revolving in a ring of steel so similar to how Zian utilizes them. My Wraith blades are shorter and not as well-balanced for this sort of defence, but I make up for it by positioning myself to eke out every advantage I can as we make our way across the unsteady terrain. Whats more, my short stature ans theres less of to defend, which makes up for the drawback of using a shorter blade, and while its not particularly ga-changing, its sothing.
Though the end result is similar to Zians favoured tactic, there are no Forms in my movents, or at least none that I recognize. Instead, every step, strike, and shift of my body holds multiple movents contained within as I take what I have learned and copied before making them uniquely mine. For example, Zian has a very obvious tendency to attack with the right and defend with the left, a habit he uses to his advantage by flipping things around when needed, but with short blades like these, Im comfortable attacking and defending from either side, which keeps my opponents from finding a rhythm to follow. My actions even take my personal asurents and idiosyncrasies into account, with a heavy emphasis at getting in close and striking at angles most people are not accustod to defending from.
This is not utilizing the Forms, but embodying them, creating new movents as I go which can only be labelled as the Forms of Falling Rain, my own personal, distinct style which anyone can copy, but will only be most effective when utilized by and alone. Its thrilling to see in action, and seeing so many subtle changes to the standard Forms makes wonder why I never made those changes myself. The Forms are rely a guideline, but Ive been treating them like gospel, to be read and interpreted in different ways. Instead, I should have been changing them, adapting them, making them mine all this ti, a practice I can only appreciate now when I know the Forms well enough to determine whats right and wrong for .
Akanai taught this sa lesson so many years ago, on the very first day I t her, in fact. You are too reserved in the Forms, too fluid and unnatural, she said, after deeming my demonstration barely passable. The Forms contain the full spectrum of movents and emotions. You must also embrace the jarring and abrasiveness they contain. That was everything I needed to know, but its taken seven long years to understand. I am not supposed to adapt my movents to the Forms. I must adapt the Forms to my movents.
In spite of my superlative demonstration, my foes are a formidable bunch, working in flawless concert despite sustaining grievous injuries from my Mountain Collapsing Stomp. Its not just a big boot that shakes the ground a bit, Mitsue Juichis signature move emits multiple shock-waves in close succession which can cause indirect internal damage through Reverberation. Add to this the shower of dirt and stone they endured, and none of my foes were able to erge unscathed, yet still they can push to my limits without leaving any advantageous openings. Im not all-powerful, and in fact, I might even be weaker than my three foes, but that doesnt an Im guaranteed to lose. Giving up on killing blows, I risk striking armour and switch tactics to cause whatever damage I can in hopes of slipping away, only to imdiately call myself an idiot for not trying this sooner. The poisoned blades are easily dealt with when you have an in-depth education from the dical Saint, the ability to multitask, and knowledge of Panacea, and my foes most definitely dont have two out of three.
That said, theyre not wholly vulnerable to the poison either, though it does slow them down a bit, and after long, forceful seconds, I finally find an opening to escape in exchange for leaving a Wraith blade embedded into one of their legs. A few seconds sounds short enough, but at the speeds were moving, we must have traded blows upwards of thirty tis, and Im not sure how many more exchanges I have left in . Covered in sweat and heaving for breath, I Cloud-Step back towards ho in hopes of breaking through their Sound Barrier and Sending for help, but my foes are hot on my heels and intent on my death.
I killed nine and severely wounded one, powerful Experts one and all with at least one Peak Expert to boot. Maybe more, and I got lucky with my opening attack, which is an impressive showing all things considered, but I doubt Id find success with the sa tactic twice. Theyll see the Mountain Collapsing Stomp coming this ti, and Im not even sure if Ive got another one in . Things might be different if I had a Spiritual Weapon in hand, because none of these Wraith blades are actually Spiritual Weapons, or at least not as far as I can tell. If they were, I wouldnt have been able to block a single attack from the trio back there, as their Honed weapons would have cut clean through blade and bone alike.
A monts warning is all I have, but its enough to save my life as I narrowly avoid a thrust aid at my heart. Retreating is no good, so I press the attack, which catches my speedy, stealthy foe off-guard. My Wraith blade cuts through his robes and bites deep into his chest, but Ive no ti to finish the job and must be away before more of my pursuers catch up. Stubborn and fearless to boot, my wounded foe grabs the hilt of my blade and traps the weapon in his flesh. Yet another monts hesitation costs dearly as the wounded assassin brings his blade about and cuts deep into my right wrist, forcing to abandon my last remaining weapon in order to Cloud-Step away, wounded and Healing when I should instead be thinking about a way out of this ss.
Desperate tis call for desperate asures, I guess. I need a weapon, and the only one I have left is stuck in my gut.
As my left hand closes around the hilt of the blade, Im struck with a sense of warm familiarity. Deja Vu, of a sorts, like Ive sohow been in this exact situation before. Ah right, during my Binding Ceremony with Peace, but that took place inside my mind. I didnt actually stab myself with Peace, not really, and in the end, the Binding Ceremony didnt an much, which is weird because everyone else puts so much emphasis on it.
What did Mila say about it? That it was a ceremony that occurs in your mind, when you brand your weapon. A symbol of joining between you and the weapon. You do sothing that makes it a part of you.
I made Peace a part of . I am the sword. The sword is . Did the ceremony really take place in my mind? Im not so sure anymore...
Yanking the Wraith blade out of my stomach, I give it a once over before ruling it out as an option. The Wraith blade reminded of Peace, but this is a killing tool, a dark, ugly thing of murder and suffering. Dad gifted Peace when I was thirteen, a beautifully crafted weapon forged in the likeness of his own, but that is not all it was. He gifted it to back when I was only his Disciple and not yet his son, as I was still in my trial period as a possibly Defiled foundling, but the sword was proof he loved like his own already. Mom took longer to co around, but Dad had already accepted , while my sweet sister Alsantset took into her family the second she spotted limping alongside the riverbed. All this and more is what I used to think about every ti I looked at Peace, but I lost that when Gen Shi ruined my weapons and shattered my Core.
Or maybe not. I am the sword. The sword is .
Still fleeing from my pursuers with all speed, I heft the Wraith blade and use it to finish what the last assassin started, carving away the flesh of my right hand and leaving nothing but at and exposed bone behind. Technically, I probably dont have to go this far, but suffering seems part and parcel of everything I do, which ans it just doesnt feel right if it doesnt hurt. Casting the Wraith weapon behind , I hear a tallic cling which tells soone blocked the errant throw, but Ive already put them out of mind. Closing my eyes and blocking out the wind whipping through my robes, I envision myself as I was all those years ago, when Dad first gave Peace like it was a cabbage he picked up in the market, rather than a priceless gift he was eager to give to the son he loved so much. There I stood, with Peace hanging from my belt, the hilt in my right hand as I readied to strike down my nesis and training partner, Sir Woody Woodson. Ive since knighted him as he died in combat, but for a short period of ti, he beca my most hated foe. I spent many an hour that first week, wielding Peace and chipping away at Woody Woodson and his many clones in an effort to replicate Dads feat, as he used the very sa sword in my hand to cleave clean through a tal block.
Those were the best of tis, my years in the village, and it was a long ti before I realized it. Even tainted by the knowledge that everyone suspected I was Defiled, I still miss those simple days, when I wandered the forest with only Pafu and Suret for company and didnt know I had Concealed Warriors watching my every move. I trained with Dad, studied with Taduk, played with the twins and kept Lin-Lin company, all while slowly recovering from my ti in the mines.
Reliving these mories elicit new emotions from within, emotions I long since forgot about and subsequently severed away so three months ago. A mistake, I see this now, because those emotions are every bit as precious as the mories they accompany, perhaps even more so because mories can be forgotten, but those emotions will stay with forever. Peace was a symbol of those emotions, of the loving gift I received from my socially awkward Dad, the help Mila and Husolt gave without question, and even the battles I fought and the victories I won with Peace in hand. I Guided this sword into Situ Gulongs shin, and then beat him unconscious before extorting his comrades. I used this sword in a duel against Zhong Lang, Elder Mings beloved nephew who I killed when I could have instead let him live. I did it because I was angry, but I couldnt kill an unard man, so I gave him his weapon back and forced him to fight. The wrong move, not because of the consequences which followed, but because that was a life I could have spared, and I didnt. Thats not . Thats not why I wield Peace, and while I want to say that this one mistake is the only one I made, Im not so sure thats the case.
These mories and more flow through my mind as I Heal my injured hand. The pain from growing new flesh is barely noticeable, but the experiences from my mories are fresh as the day I lived them. My victories, my failures, my accomplishnts and mistakes, I had Peace by my side in almost all of them, right up until I lost it. Even then, I tried to keep my broken sword safe, because I thought there might be so way to fix them, so long as I fixed my shattered Core in ti. That didnt happen, as the remains of my Spiritual Weapon were scattered to the winds when those half-step Divinity Wraiths ca for the Legates head, and a part of died that day. I wanted to beco strong again, to wield Peace, Tranquility, and Unity on the battlefield once again, for they were comrades just like everyone else I fought alongside.
I thought that dream died the day I lost my weapons.
I was wrong.
I am the sword. The sword is .
As I set Panacea to Heal my hand, I task it to Heal Peace as well, for though it was crafted from cold steel, it is still a part of my very being, to the point where my Soul could call upon it even while trapped within Beis Natal Palace. I rember it now, the thrill and exultation I felt while fighting off hordes of Spectres with my blade of shining light, with Peace illuminating the darkness of the Void and banishing the cold around . The cold steel is not what makes Peace my Spiritual Weapon, but rather the bond we share as weapon and wielder, a bond forged during my Binding Ceremony and quenched in blood.
I was wrong to say the Binding Ceremony isnt real. It doesnt take place in reality, but its still real, for like the title suggests, a bond between Warrior and Spiritual Weapon is one forged in the Soul.
Ti passes. A minute, an hour, a day, I don't know how long.
My nerves tingle, from my scalp down to my toes.
The pores on my skin open.
I feel safe. Alive. Accepted. Protected.
Nestled in the warm embrace of the Mother.
I open my eyes and smile as I greet my old friend, Peace exactly as I rember it, reforged through Panacea minus the lovely wrapped hilt and decoration. Mila can wrap it again later, but first, I have so business to take care of now that Ive found my fangs again.
Peace. I rejected it at first, feared having to pick up the sword to use against my foes, feared I would instead turn it against myself. Peace is a weapon, but it is also a deterrent, a tool to protect and defend those who cannot protect themselves. Though I use it to kill, I only kill in search of peace, a lesson Ive learned and forgotten too many tis to count, but this ti, I wont forget.
My foes have co to kill and kill those I love, so I will deliver them Peace, so that I might one day find peace for myself.
I am Falling Rain, and this is my Path. The Path of the peace-keeper, protector, guardian, and Sentinel. Path of the Legate, Path of the revolutionary, Path of a man who seeks a better future for all. This is who I am, and it is high ti I stopped fighting it, because despite my lofty ideals, I know my Path will be long and bloody indeed.
But such is life, trials and tribulations abound, so its high ti I stopped complaining, and started taking steps in the right direction.
Starting with the fifty-one remaining stepping stones so conveniently hot on my heels...
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