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Chapter 790
🕑 Added 2022-03-26 01:17:58 +0000 UTChttps://docs.google.com/document/d/1pKUWjlclA5FbfA0uxJ9wB-czHPBZY4xfJLGQ9iSg4_o/edit?usp=sharing
Multitasking is hard.
Not the act of multitasking itself, as thus far, I’ve found it a fairly simple process. My squadron of tethered Natal Souls are handling things well enough from their desks inside the Call Centre of the Void, scanning the crowd for receptive Imperials before dispatching severed Natal Souls to go help them, and there are many successes to be noted. Not only am I being more efficient with my resources by utilizing the minimum amount of soul, I’m also able to specifically target individuals who will have the greatest overall effect. One basic tribesman deciding to turn around and leave won’t be enough to tip the scales, even with help from Heavenly Energy and Insight, but helping Mila and Yan understand their respective Blessings has forced the Enemy commander to rethink his distribution of troops, while Luo-Luo is affecting the hearts and minds of Imperials and Defiled alike now that she’s tuned into the music of the world itself. These are but three of my many successes, but the hard part is trying to put together a coherent sequence of events beneath the deluge of information and emotion flooding through my brain.
Sure, I’m spreading myself thin by continuing to sever Natal Souls about, but the difference is now I can sense the damage I’m causing and can more easily stay within my limits. To say I have a migraine would be doing it a disservice, for this is far more than a mere headache, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Or so I thought, but now the beating of my too-loud heart threatens to shatter my skull from within as the pounding rain drops do the same from the outside, and the thunderous roar of cannon-fire only makes it all that much worse. My vision blurs, my mind fogs, and I struggle to find myself in all the chaos and confusion within the tangled weave of thoughts, emotions, and sensations happening all at once. Live and learn, or so they say, except I never seem to learn, not without an excess of needless suffering first. In Meng Sha, I experienced first-hand how unpleasant it was to have countless Natal Souls telling me their life’s story all at once, yet here I am suffering from the same issue again, except this time, I brought it upon myself willingly. Even knowing information overload was a problem, I decided the best option moving forward was to create a pseudo hive-mind of tethered Natal Souls so I could experience all their thoughts and emotions in real time, and now I am paying the price for my foolishness.
I had my reasons for doing things in this way, good reasons too, but I definitely should have seen this problem coming ahead of time. With my Call Centre Agents all tethered in, I can pay the emotional costs associated with their individual experiences, leading to no consumption of Heavenly Energy when they feel anger, frustration, amusement, or whatever. The problem is, I have never been great at managing my emotions, nor am I particularly kind to myself, so having a whole hive-mind of other me’s unloading all their emotional baggage is almost too much for me to bear, and my self-disparaging remarks puts me over the edge. Hubris is what’s done me in, sheer arrogance in thinking I could handle these burdens and soldier on, because the benefits surely outweighed the drawbacks.
Except I sort of forgot about Blobby for a bit, and when you have a stowaway Heavenly Spirit ready and waiting to Cleanse away your very existence should you ever step a toe over the line, you wanna make sure you have this Balance thing on lockdown. Now, historically, even though Balance has always come easily to me, I’ve also had my issues with it as well. That’s why I said fuck Balance and set out on a new Path, but this option is now closed to me once I reunited with Blobby. I can no longer afford to send him off on a trip through the Azure Sea, because I need his help to defeat Zhen Shi, who I know is nearby but cannot for the life of me find. I know this in my heart of hearts, though I admit I’m not entirely sure how the Heavenly Tear is supposed to help, but I’m not willing to risk sending him away with the endgame now upon us. This means that I need to keep to Balance, but I’m really struggling with it now that I’m feeling so very much from so many different perspectives. The sum total of one Falling Rain’s emotional baggage is usually too much for me to handle, and now I’ve got enough luggage to fill an airport carousel and then some. It’s not a simple matter of just focusing on the positives, because that’s not what Balance is all about, nor can I allow myself to succumb to the deluge of negatives threatening to bury my psyche in a deep, dark hole from which it can never return. I need to find Balance, find a way to feel these emotions without giving into them, to neither struggle nor surrender, which is easier said than done.
With Heavenly Energy, it’s a simple enough concept, to become the dam, the wall, the forge, and the drill, an instrument with which to interact with the natural forces of the world, but emotions are a whole different kettle of fish. How do I watch someone die and perceive all his regrets without being affected? How do I immerse myself in the righteous fury of that dying soldier’s allies without getting swept away? How do I indulge in the heady vindication of striking down a killer without being intoxicated by the allure of vengeance? This is but a brief snapshot of what I’m getting from a single Natal Soul’s perspective, which is already burden enough, but there are hundreds of more perspectives to consider all at once.
And so, feeling myself slip beneath the weight of all these emotions and Blobby’s growing hunger and agitation, I deal with my emotions the best way I know how, by distancing myself from it all. Though I know this is only a temporary solution and that I will have to deal with these emotions eventually, this will buy me some time at the very least. Immediately, the pressure lessens as I feel myself fade into the background, no longer an active participant in the battle of Shi Bei, but an observer watching it all unfold before me.
Thanks to my newfangled clarity, I stumble across another solution, one I’ve utilized before. I could sever all these unwanted emotions and offer them to the Heavens instead, just like I did in JiangHu, but tempting though the prospect might be, I refuse to even entertain the thought. A dangerous gambit, utilizing the Energy of the Heavens this way, for it is akin to how regular Divinities wield it, and all it would take is one errant desire to taint my intent and set us spiralling towards disaster. In JiangHu, I severed my emotions in a desperate bid for nihility and oblivion, but in order to achieve this escape, I needed a satisfying conclusion to the events in JiangHu, one I could walk away from without guilt. This is very different from wanting the Imperials to win, or wanting my family safe, or wanting the Defiled dead and gone, but something else entirely, and it was this combination of largely innocuous desires and intents which the Energy of the Heavens responded to, a Will driven by fear yes, but otherwise largely Balanced in terms of emotions, with equal parts anger and hatred plus love and compassion, and everything else in between.
A good thing too, because only now do I realize how badly that whole debacle could have turned out. The Energy of the Heavens are driven by Will, so it’s easy to imagine what would’ve happened if I’d snapped and succumbed to anger and hatred instead of something as harmless as a yearning for oblivion. If I severed my emotions with the intent to kill the Defiled, I might well have nuked both armies then and there, killing everyone on the battlefield including the people I hold near and dear to my heart. Going in the opposite direction, if I’d gone in with the intent of just saving the people I loved, then the Heavens could have just whisked them all away, leaving the rest of the Imperials to their lamentable fate. Neither option would have been acceptable to me, and might well have pushed me over the edge, meaning I avoided a calamity in JiangHu by the slimmest of margins.
Ha. And to think I said what I did in JiangHu was stupid, but effective. That’s like saying winning the lottery is a valid retirement plan. It totally is, on the one if several billions chance that things actually work out exactly as intended, but more often than not, you’ve just plotted a course headlong towards disaster.
That’s why I can’t just sever my emotions and let the Heavens take the wheel here in Shi Bei. I am no longer driven by the desire for nihility and oblivion, but a desire to kill Zhen Shi and win this war once and for all. That alone is enough to taint my Will and Intent, and the Heavens are not bound by human failings like empathy and compassion, nor does it care about collateral damage, but I care deeply. I made the right choice in spurning false Divinity, because as much as I love to delegate, I can’t really count on the Heavens to do things right.
Which leaves just me, myself, and I to carry this burden, multiplied a couple hundred times thanks to all my Natal Souls. It also occurs to me that I could sever our connection and simply supply them with a finite amount of Heavenly Energy instead, leaving them to endure the deluge of emotions until they burn themselves out and arrive at their inevitable end, but while I’m not my own biggest fan, I can’t bring myself to treat my Natal Souls so harshly. Besides, ignoring the ethics of creating disposable mind-clones to suffer in my place and their propensity to unload everything on me regardless, there’s just no way I could trust my Natal Souls to endure without hope, which is admittedly the more concerning issue here. The last thing I need is a whole host of rebel Natal Souls spurting goatees and raising hell as they seek out a body to inhabit. Interesting as it would be to see what happens when a quasi-Balanced Natal Soul takes over a body, that’s well beyond the limits my conscience will allow me to cross.
As fascinating as all these hypotheticals might be, I have better things to focus on now that I have the attention to spare, and I set to overseeing my Natal Souls at work. Rather than try to understand everything that’s happening all at once, I focus on one incident at a time and let the rest sort of just flow into the background of my subconscious. I shudder to think of the damage I’m doing to my psyche, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay to foil Zhen Shi’s plans yet again, and I make sure to celebrate the minor successes that I can before I become overwhelmed by all the devastating losses.
Like seeing how far the Stormguard have come in so short a time. A year doesn’t seem like much, but in war, you learn fast or die trying, and these men and women are survivors first and foremost. Discipline above all else, that’s the philosophy with which Akanai approached their training, because at the time, the Stormguard were all newly minted Martial Warriors and we needed them battle-ready as quickly as possible, and the easiest way to do so was to ensure they knew how to work together. Though their initial speed of development was impressive, after being tempered in the heat of multiple battles, the Stormguard are showing other Martial Warriors how true soldiers should fight; as a unit. Standing shoulder to shoulder in tight formation, they form two braced lines of bristling spears which the Defiled throw themselves on time and time again, with a third line standing two steps back ready and waiting to support their comrades should they falter. Their tactics are simple and effective, with no flashy Movements or fancy Chi skills, just thrust and retract, with the occasional application of boot or shoulder whenever necessary. A far cry from the soldiers around them, who need room apart to swing their weapons and thus are fighting next to one another rather than as a unified whole, and the difference is staggering to behold. Most Imperial units are just barely clinging on even though the fighting just started, the pressure mounting with each passing second as the unending waves of Defiled threaten to overrun their position, but the Stormguard are a sea of calm in an otherwise turbulent ocean as they hold the line with ruthless efficiency.
Granted, this sort of tactic is most effective against the unarmoured tribals, but considering those make up the bulk of the Enemy forces, that’s nothing to sneeze at. What’s more, the Stormguards’ smooth sailing is in part thanks to their exemplary officers, Warriors who were largely promoted from within their own ranks and have earned the trust of their soldiers with blood, sweat, and tears.
Officers like dauntless Ogum Chuwon, a dusky, southern-born father of two who lost his wife and children to Defiled bandits years ago, and was never the same since. He moved to Central with his brother to lend a hand on the farm, but when the recruitment call went out, he was among the first to respond. At forty-three years old, he was well past his prime for a commoner, and it showed in his slender, wiry frame and wrinkled, weather-worn complexion, but he saw an opportunity to avenge his family and he would not be swayed. Though far from the most able or talented of Irregulars, his persistence and determination won his comrades over, and those same qualities have seen him progress as a Martial Warrior to stand head and shoulders above the rest. He’s no innate genius, no brilliant duellist, just a tried-and-true soldier who does what he’s told and fights with the fury of five soldiers and the endurance of three.
He was one of the Irregulars who came to my rescue in JiangHu, hurtling himself at a wave of Demons with only an iron knife in hand. He had no expectations of survival when he did so, only a desperate desire to buy even a single second by sacrificing his life, a trade he thought well spent. Today, he stands with Spiritual Spear in hand as a Captain of the Stormguard, impaling his foes as they approach while emitting a steady, sturdy, standard Aura of courage and conviction to bolster the hearts of his allies while vocally proclaiming that victory is all but assured with the Legate here fighting alongside them.
A sentiment echoed by Yazhu, a cobbler’s son turned Stormguard Banner Bearer, who even now refuses to put down the bow-tie bunny emblem as he wields his Spiritual Spear with one hand. Darting Fang, Pierce the Horizon, Skewer the Blossom, and more, his every thrust displays a different variation of a Movement which encompasses a wealth of hidden nuances he has yet to wholly understand, but he doesn’t even bother trying. Not that he has to, as he immerses himself in Insight and discards logical reasoning in favour of gut instinct and tactile response. Just as he was the first to sound the rallying cry in JiangHu, he leads his comrades from the front, driving them ever forward step by step in his eagerness to test his newfangled abilities and denying the Enemy purchase upon the parapets.
Shodo, Wen Na, Tengo, and more, the Officers of the Stormguard rise up to the occasion as my severed Natal Souls help further them along the Martial Path. Every member of the Stormguard receives some benefit, for they are more receptive of my assistance than most, because each and every one of them has the utmost faith in my abilities and believes I will lead them to a resounding victory once again. There is a power in faith that I cannot describe, a unifying strength and bolstering influence that affects not only those who have faith, but also those around them who lack it. The other Imperial soldiers see the Stormguard fight without fear, which is enough to ignite their courage and competitive spirits as they refuse to be outdone by a band of Martial Warriors who formed their Cores only a year ago, which sets into motion a chain reaction that has all of Shi Bei fighting that much fiercer as they embrace faith and hope upon the battlefield.
This alone is not enough to hold back the Enemy however, and while the rank-and-file Stormguard are lacking in personal strength, their commander and second-in-command are more than enough to hold up the Heavens for now. At twenty-eight years young, Lixian is by far the most promising of the bunch and it shows as he stands apart from his soldiers to draw the attentions of all Champions and Chieftains towards him. With Runic Shield raised to cover most of his hunched frame and Spiritual Spear held ready to thrust, his stance is hardly the most domineering around, but it’s difficult to argue against results. Block and thrust, that’s how most his duels start and end, with a single block and a single thrust. An amateur might see this and think Lixian’s opponents are all trash, but an expert would point out the precision and timing of his blocks and counters, for he does far more than just hunker down and wait for impact. The former farm-hand has a knack for active blocking, meeting every strike with one of his own to throw off his opponent’s sense of timing and create an opening for the subsequent killing thrust. Neck, heart, liver, and groin, these are his favoured targets, all fatal targets save for the last, but not even the crazed Defiled can keep fighting with their nether-regions impaled.
In keeping with the theme of frightening efficiency, my former second Mister Rustram had finally come into his own as a Warrior of renown, wielding his rapier to kill every Enemy who comes within range. A deceptively long range to boot, given his newfangled familiarity with Domain Plating and Honing, which he uses to extend the length of his thin sword and kill without even having to touch his foes. A skill he picked up all on his own I might add, without the need for assistance from my Natal Souls, so the only help I offer now is a quick top off of his Core. With Yazhu holding the centre, and Ogum, Shodo, Wen Na, and Tengo on the wings, their battle-line soon turns into a crescent moon, with either end pushing forward while the centre stands in place, creating a killing ground around Rustram and Lixian standing alone at the forefront.
Despite having distanced myself emotionally from the fray, I cannot help but personally lend Rustram a hand, because despite his outer veneer of calm confidence, I can sense his concern stewing within. The moment I see a lull in the fighting, I Send, “Sai Chou is alive and well,” and it’s heartening to see his shoulders visibly relax as he takes in the good news. “Shares partial credit for killing Mataram YuChun as well.” Concern and pride war within my good friend, as well as no small amount of self-deprecation, no doubt lamenting how he’s even less worthy of his wife now that she’s killed a Peak Expert who was well on his way to becoming a Living Legend, a sentiment I relate with all too well. “Just a suggestion regarding your new ability to solidify your Domain; it is a skill as flexible as your imagination can make it, so don’t get too fixated on this singular use.”
Advice which he immediately puts to good use by extending his foot to trip a Champion trying to push past him, except the Champion was well out of normal reach. That’s Mister Rustram for you, always using his head, and I would love the chance to tell him that he doesn’t actually need to extend his foot at all, or even create an obstacle using his Plated Domain. Cover the floor in Deflecting Domain and watch your opponents slip like they stepped on a banana peel while you glide across it with effortless ease, or use it as a foot or handhold to brace against in order to change your angle of attack. There’s probably a whole wealth of other applications for Plated Domain, to say nothing of the defensive aspects which I should really learn, but Mister Rustram is in the thick of it now and I can’t afford to distract him again.
Trusting in Mom’s hand-picked guards to keep her Disciple alive, I move on to other small successes on the battlefield and find my good friend Fung in low-spirits as he fights with everything he’s got. Not because of the actual battle and bloodshed itself, which he hates but understands is necessary, but reading emotions is not the same as reading minds. It takes a good few seconds to parse through his feelings to figure out the source of his despondence, but his actions tell me more than his words or emotions ever will. First off is his lack of poetry, which I only recently theorized might be his way of regulating his breathing and flow of Chi, but he fights in silence and suffers for it. Not to say he’s doing poorly, because with sword in hand, Fung is easily able to match any young Warrior in the Empire short of the truly exemplary stand-out talents, but today, he lacks his usual calm and confident demeanour. This does him no favours, for his greatest strength is his formless style, able to strike or defend from any angle or stance without so much as a hint of warning. Fung achieves this by keeping his shoulders and upper arms slack and devoid of tension, but he’s out of sorts as he fights here today, his muscles all strained and taut from apprehension.
It’s not death he fears, or even defeat, because he’s wholly confident of leaving Shi Bei alive, even if the worst should come to pass. No, my good friend is twisting himself into knots because he’s standing so close to the woman he loves, yet unable to express his affection in any way, shape, or form.
Despite being an easy going and affable sort, Fung is not without his pride, and in his eyes, Seoyoon has made her choice to reject him, so he will not go begging for her to take him back. That doesn’t mean he’s over her however, as nothing could be further from the truth, because he’s discovered that no amount of meaningless sex will ever make him feel the way he feels about Seoyoon. I knew he was down bad and tried to help him get over it, but I never noticed that he doesn’t want to be over it. He wants to win her back, by hook or by crook, but his ego will not allow it, because his self-esteem took a great blow when Seoyoon ended things as she did, and he knows his heart cannot bear a second rejection.
Not even a hundred meters away from where my friend stands, Seoyoon fights with a similar lack of spirit, though you wouldn’t know it to look at her. Visually, she appears calm, cool, and collected as she wields her twin swords with grace and aplomb, but inside she is just as big a mess as Fung is, if not more. Every time she finds a moment to spare, she glances over in Fung’s direction, and their eyes have met more than once only for circumstances to demand their attentions elsewhere, but there’s no mistaking the hope and expectation in Seoyoon’s heart every time their eyes meet, or the pain and disappointment when Fung inevitably turns away. Why? As far as I could tell, Seoyoon could easily have refused being betrothed to Yong-Jin, especially considering his relationship with Shuai Jiao is more commander and subordinate than father and son. They share a bond of trust and respect that cannot be broken, but that’s all there is to it, so while the world sees Seoyoon’s marriage with Yong-Jin as a tie between the Ryo Family and Shuai Jiao, those in the know can see that it does almost nothing to bind them, for the Wood Blessed Mentor and Disciple pair are nothing if not pragmatic.
So why would Seoyoon accept a betrothal she clearly doesn’t want when she’s head over heels for Fung? I mean, her brother was so against the marriage he refused to even participate in the planning, which was why he wasn’t present during Shuai Jiao’s trap of a meeting, so there must be more to this marriage than meets the eye, but I sure as hell can’t figure it out. All I can do is dispatch two severed Natal Souls to the two star-crossed lovers and try to show them how much they mean to one another. “Remember who you are,” I Send to Fung, once I’m certain he has time to listen, “Tong Da Fung, the Great Wind of the Typhoon Brothers, a light-hearted and carefree poet and lover. She’s made her choice, but if there’s a man more charming and convincing than you are, then I’ve yet to meet him.”
“…And what happens if she rejects me again?”
In all our years together, I’ve never heard Fung sound so bitter and heartbroken, because even though I know he’s been broken up about Seoyoon, he’s never once mentioned it out loud. “Then at the very least, you’ll know you gave it your all and can continue on without regret,” I supply, knowing it sounds empty to a man in his position. “Sometimes, things are not meant to be, but you’ll never know until you exhaust all other options. I’ll tell you this much though, you’ll have a better chance of winning her over if you behaved more like yourself, and less like a sad sap who’s lost all will to live.”
Though there’s no reply from my good friend, I can sense Fung’s begrudging amusement and rekindled hope as his spirits lift once more, and his swordsmanship improves drastically as he relaxes and recites his first poem of the day. Over on Seoyoon’s side, she has yet to wholly understand what just happened when she subconsciously accepted my Natal Soul’s bundled emotions, but I can sense her spirits lifting as she looks over to see the man she loves in full form once again. That’s why she fell in love with him in the first place, not simply because of his dashing good looks and impeccable charm, but because of his carefree and lackadaisical demeanour which seemed wholly at odds with his superlative skill. This was a man who defeated the older brother whom Seoyoon idolized with all her heart, so when she dug deeper to try and understand how a no-good layabout could match the great Ryo Geom-Chi, she uncovered the little-known secret of how Tong Da Fung is, above all else, an upright and honourable man.
A rare thing to find in the Empire these days, especially in someone as talented and well-off as Fung, and she soon found herself swept off her feet by his silvered tongued charms.
I hope things work out between them, especially now that I know Seoyoon isn’t as cold and apathetic as she appears. That’s just a façade, a front she puts up because she doesn’t know how to be strong and feminine like her older sister, and it’s just easier to feign utter indifference than walk the fine line between Warrior and woman that everyone expects from her.
Speaking of which, Ryo Da’in is similarly conflicted, except in her case, the object of her affection refuses to even glance in her direction. Not because Kyung isn’t enamoured with the beautiful Sword Princess of Central, but because he believes himself unworthy of her affections. Of any affection, in fact, and Kyung counts himself blessed to have been adopted and spoiled by his hero and idol, the great Du Min Gyu. As a slave, Kyung has seen the worst humanity has to offer, so he cherishes what he’s found all the more, but it’s also left him wary about asking for more. He’s a lot like Song in this regard, too afraid to even hope because experience has taught him that hope almost always ends in disappointment, which is why he refuses to admit to himself that he is deeply in love with Ryo Da’in.
As for Da’in, she knows she loves Kyung, but also knows it cannot be, and after wracking my brain for a bit, I come to the conclusion that Da’in’s particular brand of resignation stems from responsibility and obligation. Even though she loves Kyung and dreams of marrying him, she knows it can never be, but like Fung, she has her pride and it stings to know that the man who won her heart had also rebuffed her prior advances. That’s human nature however, because if Kyung had drooled over her like every other man she knows, she might never have given him a second glance, though that might just be my own bias colouring my perception. Regardless of the reasons, I can tell Da’in is… not torn up, but feeling vulnerable, because no matter how beautiful a woman might be, it’s difficult to feel beautiful when the man you love refuses to even acknowledge your existence after almost twenty days of non-stop fighting.
I don’t really understand Da’in, not in the slightest. She was all ready and raring to jump Kyung’s bones before her mother caught her in the attempt, and she’s still unwilling to give up on the notion of romance despite knowing it can never be. It’s not because of their status, because if it were, she’d never have given him a second glance, but there are other factors keeping them apart, ones Da’in wholeheartedly accepts, but that doesn’t stop her from wondering, “What if?” Such alluring words, what if, and I know just how seductive they can be, as I love nothing more than pondering what I could do if things were just slightly different.
Alas, there’s nothing I can do for Da’in and Kyung, as neither one is receptive to a Natal Soul, but these two phenomenal Warriors need no assistance from me because they are already beloved by the Heavens above. Da’in embodies the pinnacle of skill, while Kyung exemplifies violence unbound, the gentle sword and domineering sabre so at odds with their respective personalities. Maybe that disparity is what drew them to one another in the first place, or maybe it’s Kyung’s rugged good looks and Da’in’s natural grace and beauty. Who knows. All I can do is wish them the best and move on to see where else I can be of use.
There are so many more people to visit, but even most of my friends aren’t open to receiving any assistance, because most Martial Warriors have long since learned to rely only on themselves. That’s the problem with having to forge your own Path, as it instills a sort of arrogance and vanity in a Warrior since technically, they will always know best. Wu Gam fights on without any real care or concern aside from one, and I can make neither heads nor tails of his emotions, because as far as I can tell, he’s wondering if he’ll ever see his Mentor and half-brother again. Wu Gam sees the writing on the wall and believes Shi Bei will soon be lost, but rather than worry about his own life, it’s Exarch Gam he’s concerned about, because… he’s not sure if their Ancestral Beast of a mother will bother to save him in a pinch. Though somewhat naïve and simple-minded, Wu Gam is far from stupid, and he knows their mother doesn’t love her children and sees them as nothing more than an investment. An investment into what, Wu Gam doesn’t seem to know or care, but he doesn’t idolize her the way his half-brother, Mentor, and father figure does. Wu Gam has done the math, and he knows that even an Ancestral Beast will have trouble getting out of Shi Bei unscathed, so he’s unsure if he should say goodbye now just in case, or pray for the best and hope they both make it out of here alive.
And honestly? I’m not sure what to say about that, especially considering it’s like 75% guesswork, not to mention I have no idea what I’m supposed to say or do to help…
Huushal fights alongside his wives and retinue, but in his mind, there is only death and bloodshed as he throws himself at the Enemy time and time again. He loves battle as much as Dad does, relishes the thrill because he never feels more alive than when he takes another person’s life. It’s an ugly truth to admit, and Huu blames it all on the wolf inside, but I would wager this stems from his human side instead. Wolves don’t live to hunt, they hunt to live, a message I am wary to pass on just yet, because I’m not sure how receptive my friend will be. His rage and fury are frightening to behold, but I can also sense a thread of fear buried deep inside, entwined with more than a hint of schadenfreude.
Because Huu has been hunted before, has lost people he loved for it, and he is terrified of becoming prey again, so instead, he embraces the role of hunter and killer instead.
It makes so much sense that I feel stupid for not seeing it before. It wasn’t just losing his uncle Kalil, but also having to run from the Society Contests as well, feeling helpless and vulnerable while he and his parents were at the mercy of others for so long. Even though Ghurda is a Peak Expert, Elia and Chakha are just normal half-beasts. Stronger than your average commoner, but hardly a match for even a middling Martial Warrior, meaning that after venturing out into the world for the first time, Huu found himself responsible for his parents’ safety while fleeing from Society assassins and helpless to do anything about it. This was the first errant step which set him along on this self-destructive path, because in his fear, he gave into the wolf so that he would never have to be afraid again, but fear is not the enemy. Fear is natural and healthy, for it warns you of danger, but Huu suppresses his fear because he is too afraid to ever allow himself to feel it. That’s the root cause of his imbalance, one which is driving him further and further away from the people he loves as he runs headlong towards disaster.
“It’s okay to be scared.” Not caring if I distract him, I Send my thoughts and emotions to Huu, who is so closed off he doesn’t even notice his wives struggling to keep up, meaning there’s no chance for a Natal Soul to get through. “Fear means you have something to lose, and you are strongest when you have something worth fighting for. The wolf hunts to feed the pack. The Warrior fights to protect the Empire. What do you fight for, Huushal?”
Seeing my friend’s inner struggle is heart wrenching to behold, but I breathe a sigh of relief as his eyes turn towards his wives before he reins himself in on the battlements. No longer does he charge headlong into the fray, running this way and that along the battlements in search of a foe to slaughter, and instead, he takes a step back to rest and recuperate. His wives fall in alongside him, their shoulders heaving and lungs burning, and Huu berates himself for not seeing it sooner as he gestures for them both to stand behind him. Not to take them out of the fight, but so they can fight in tandem, with him in the vanguard and their spears guarding his flanks as they hold their ground together. A small step towards progress, but a significant one, because Huu has now acknowledged his fear of losing those he loves, but he refuses to let it control him.
A word of advice is all I have to offer, because Huu is still closed off to my more esoteric attempts to help. I mean, I get it, not everyone wants to mix souls, because truth be told, it sounds kinda gross and overly intimate, but c’mon now. Here I am trying to bare my literal soul to the people I care most about and a good half of them refuse to even entertain the notion, while so many strangers are more than willing to open themselves up to me. Then again, for all intents and purposes, I’m essentially trying to infect them with a benign Spectre, so I can see why Martial Warriors who spend their entire lives guarding against the lies of intrusive fragments of malignant souls would be reluctant to let me in.
All totally valid reasoning which I would be more than willing to accept if not for the fact that Gerel of all people is wholly receptive to my Natal Soul.
This discovery is so unexpected that the Call Centre Agent assigned to him decided to pass the buck over to me, and I can’t really blame the guy. I too would love nothing more than to hand the decision over to someone else, because let’s face it; Gerel is a difficult person to get along with. Not because he’s rude or obnoxious or whatever, but rather the fact that he closes himself off from everyone and everything with his air of general indifference which borders on disdain. While we weren’t exactly neighbours, Gerel’s house was pretty close to Charok and Alsantset’s, yet I can count the number of times I saw him out and about during the winter with two hands. I have no idea what he did with all his time when he wasn’t sparring with the other members of the Iron Banner, though I suppose he could have been spending time with his Mentor, Hua Lie. Keep in mind that this is a guy who is mom’s junior martial brother, dad’s second-in-command, and all-around peak genius of his generation, yet I know next to nothing about him besides the fact that his only friend is Charok and Alsantset doesn’t like him.
So I’m not the only one, and it shows. On the rare occasions I do see Gerel, he’s always standing apart from the crowd, and not entirely by choice. The People are an insular bunch, but they look after their own, so it’s strange to see Gerel being barely tolerated by the rest. A Warrior as talented as him should have friends and allies aplenty, comrades in arms who fight at his side and hoist drinks in his name, but even after revealing himself as a thirty-three-year-old Peak Expert, there was little to no fanfare among the People and Sentinels. Like me, Gerel is a social pariah in his home village, and while I have never stopped to ask why that might be, I get the feeling that he prefers things this way. Since his marriage to Yuzhen, I’ve seen even less of him around, but here in Shi Bei, I find that despite being one of the first people I met in this world, the person who brought me on stage to stand before the entire village and be accepted among them, Gerel is a complete and utter stranger to me.
One filled with so much hatred and anger.
His fury burns hot as he stands but a meter behind me, cloaked in Concealment so deeply that I can barely even tell he’s there. It feels as if I could blink and lose track of him despite being able to feel the heat of his emotions pouring off him like a roaring furnace on full blast, his rage fixated on the forces of the Enemy before him. He yearns to spill blood with sword and glaive in hand, hungers for the thrill and glory of combat, but more than that, he believes this is his sole purpose in life. That’s why he doesn’t care to make friends or socialize, because killing Defiled is all he cares about. In his eyes, the Martial Path is not something he pursues, but a calling demanded of him by the Mother Above, which he said as much several months ago when he criticized me for my lack of faith. At the time, I chalked him up as a religious nutjob, but it’s not piety and devotion which fuels his passion, but intense zeal bordering on fanaticism. The Defiled are a blight upon humanity, and he sees himself as one of many tasked with its removal, a Holy Warrior in every sense of the word. This is his faith, his motivation, his purpose for being, and he will stop at nothing until the Defiled threat is eradicated in full. Even if we win this war and drive the Enemy back out of the province never to show their faces again, Gerel would take it upon himself to ride out in search of the foul minions of the Father, even if he must go beyond the borders of the Empire to do so.
Which is why being forced to stand idly by as the Defiled fight and kill fills him with rage and frustration, but he understands the necessity of holding back. Tactically, it’s the right decision as the Enemy elites have yet to commit, but even knowing this, he yearns to throw himself into battle because it is all he has, a mindset even he recognizes is not healthy. His thoughts turn to Yuzhen and it shows in his emotions, so full of love and commitment but also fear and bitter regret, possibly because he knows that his love for battle and bloodshed will always come first, and that she deserves better than second place in his heart.
Unlike me, Gerel doesn’t dwell on his dark thoughts but simply accepts things the way they are, because he has long since given up on trying to become a better man. It’s a shade of resignation I know well, as I too have been stained by this same fatalistic acceptance, but Gerel has it far worse. He’s lived with it for so long that the emptiness has become a part of him, one he not only identifies with, but clings to because he has nothing else in his life worth holding onto, or at least that was the case until recently. This is who he is, Gerel, Warrior and Husband, and he wholeheartedly believes he is destined to fail as the latter, that he will meet his end on the field of battle and leave Yuzhen a widow, an outcome he almost looks forward to, because then she can find someone more deserving to love.
Before I can even come up with something to say, Gerel has already moved on from his dark place, or perhaps it’s better to say he was always there and is now focused on other things instead. A burst of pride pushes past all the anger and hatred, and while that is all I can read from his emotions, I notice that his pride is strongest whenever his attentions turn towards me. He’s proud of me, for some reason, delighted by my newfangled strength, and while I wouldn’t go as far as to say he admires me, his chest puffs and back straightens every time he glances in my direction. He’s… contented to see how far I’ve come, and takes no small measure of satisfaction from it, as if he had anything to do with it in the first place. I suppose we’ve sparred a good amount, and he was there at the start, but I have no idea why he’s so pleased by my accomplishments or why he would be proud of me in the first place. Not proud like, “Hey I know that guy,” or “I used to chop his legs off all the time,” but a more personal pride, like, “He’s finally living up to his potential,” sort of pride, something you’d expect from my parents rather than casual acquaintance that Gerel is.
What a weirdo. Thankfully, there’s no way he’s my father, because even though people think we look alike and sometimes mistake us for brothers, he would’ve been thirteen or something when I was born. Not impossible, but icky and improbable, so I doubt I’ll be calling him daddy anytime soon.
Or ever actually. Even if he is my father. Which he most definitely isn’t.
Truth be told, it’s easy to see why I don’t like him. He’s arrogant enough to believe it is his holy duty to fight the Defiled, and overly humble about his accomplishments, which comes off as haughty and imperious, as if he was merely setting the standard for Martial Warriors and those unable to match up were all failures. He’s antisocial to the extreme and makes no effort to connect with the people around him, not even those he meets with every day, and he prefers things this way. He lives his life at one extreme, pushing himself to the limits in everything he tries, so much so that he doesn’t understand how to dial it back. A spar with him is just a death match without death, which is why only the bored Warriors of the Iron Banner can stomach his company. Deep down, he doesn’t like who he is, but he doesn’t know how to be any other way, and though he loves his wife dearly with all his heart, he believes he’ll ultimately end up disappointing her and lives in dread of when that day will finally arrive.
In short, Gerel is me but better in most ways. He’s taller, more handsome, and radiates this chilling intensity which makes enemies and allies alike both fear and respect him. The only metric I’m ahead in is number of wives, and I wouldn’t necessarily say that’s 100% a win since it just means I’m going to end up disappointing more women than he will. That being said, I also admire the hell out of him, because even though I would never dare call myself his rival, I have always seen him as a Warrior to surpass. That’s why I always kept going back to spar with him despite losing so many limbs, because he was the means through which I measured my own progress. In my eyes, Gerel does set the standard for Martial Warriors everywhere, a truth I simply accepted because he embodies the concept of one in every way, shape, and form, so even though I never liked him, there has never been a day when I didn’t respect the hell out of him. Even when he was chock-full of Spectres and on the cusp of inviting them in for tea, I was still in awe of his strength and determination because any other person would have long since gone over to the dark side.
So while Dad is and always will be my hero, and Mila the person I wish to surpass, Gerel is the man who I will always measure myself again, because in my eyes, he is the ultimate Martial Warrior. A dedicated, hardworking man without any real flaws or weaknesses aside from his anti-social tendencies, which I can’t really comment on since I’m at least equally as bad, if not worse.
All this and more is revealed to him as my Natal Soul merges with him to share how I feel, and I sense his alarm turn to surprise, admiration, and gratitude as it all sinks in. “You’re a better man than you think you are,” I Send, using the language of the People to show my recognition of our shared roots. “A Warrior I am proud to fight alongside, and when this is all over, one I would like to share a drink with, if that’s alright with you.”
Oddly enough, Gerel reacts to my friendly offer with a spike of panic as he glances towards Dad and Sends something, who responds with wide-eyed dismay followed by palpable relief. Even if I wasn’t tapped in to their ambient emotions, I’d be able to read all this from their expressions alone, and I’m confused as to why they’re behaving like this. A long second passes as Dad studies my face as he Sends something back to Gerel, and then both of them try to play it off as nothing by simply pretending it’d never happened in the first place. “I look forward to that drink,” Gerel Sends, sounding anything but, followed by, “Though I’d much prefer a sparring match first. Would love to see how far you’ve come and if I can still take your legs off as easily as before.”
See, this is why no one likes him. He’s being one-hundred percent serious when he says this, which means he’s challenging me to a spar with the intent of dismembering me. I mean, yea, we tend to push the limits of propriety in our spars and have almost accidentally killed each other on multiple occasions, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy losing limbs and almost dying.
…though I suppose I can see why he might think otherwise. I mean, there were times when he’d cut my legs off and we’d keep sparring as soon as I finished re-attaching them, or I’d stab him in the gut and grin about it, so I guess we’re both equally to blame for this misunderstanding.
Whatever. Putting Gerel out of mind because his infuriating ways are threatening the delicate Balance of my emotional well-being, I move onto the next subject of interest here in Shi Bei. I came here to kill Zhen Shi, but seeing how I have no idea where the fuck he ran off to, all I can do for now is watch and wait. Much like Gerel, I chafe at having to stand on the sidelines, but unlike him, I’m unable to rein myself in. Pushing myself to the utmost limits and then taking a few steps even further, I settle into the rhythm of maintaining my precarious Balance for as long as I am able to while simultaneously waiting for my foe to show his ugly, wrinkled face.
Because the moment he does, I will end his existence by unleashing the greatest weapon I have at my disposal, and if that doesn’t work, I still have a Taddy and Pong Pong to spare, the former standing behind me and the latter hiding inside my man-bun because he thinks it’s warm and safe. Bring it on, Zhen Shi. Your days are numbered, for I am Falling Rain, and I have come to teach you the true meaning of regret.
Mm… too much? Maybe I should say something cooler, like, “This day next year will be the anniversary of your death.” Or go full edge and blurt out, “Omae wa mou shindeiru.” Then again, maybe it’s better not to say anything at all. I dunno. We’ll just have to see how it goes.
