Plastic flooring groaned. The concrete beneath it cracked.
Two men charged, matching Dao against Dao.
A sword met fist. Air thrummed as a great waves of pressure washed through the hallway, ripping curtains off the windows, uprooting furniture, cracking lamps. Each step of their motions sent shivers down to the very foundations of the Asylum. Each cut, each punch, each move left an imprint on the walls.
Edges of the [Nice Guy Aura] sparked in colors of primal energies as it met the [Unlimited Abworks]. The room twisted and melted under the clash of two Daos.
A blade empowered by [The Last Gentlelord] met the [Jawline Guillotine]. A cut exploded upward, slashing through concrete, pipes, roof-tiles, and the skies themselves. Like a wrathful eye, through that diagonal slash across the heavens, peeked the moon, shining down on the two as their battle entered an elevator, broke through the elevator floor, and moved downstairs.
“REEEEEE!” screamed Neckbeardman, hitting me with a supernaturally empowered wave of cringe-energy.
I countered immediately with a Chad wisdom technique, “Confidence is silent. Insecurities are loud. Bruh.”
“Guh!” Double the cringe-energy of his attack was reflected back, causing Neckbeardman to stumble on his footing and bleed from his ears. He pulled out a cellphone and began scrolling a feed of mildly suggestive anime girls to recover his bearings.
I glanced at the lobby around us, noting that women of Happyland had been rendered harmlessly unconscious. Only one grim puddle of blood told the tale of a coldblooded execution. Most men were severely injured. Mr. Maxson, with a pistol in hand and a slash across his back, lay motionless beside my demonic hounds. All four were in critical condition.
While Neckbeardman was distracted, I applied [Believe in me who believes in you who believes in me who believes in you who believes in me!] and [Just Do It] to my friends, encouraging their cells directly to keep on being Chads and defeat their wounds.
In the corner of my eye, I spotted an arrow-sign made out of banana peels beside an unconscious Grog, and at once realized Silent Feather’s objective. Nelly. Someone must’ve told Silent Feather about her bloodline.
Looks like I might be getting more opponents to hone myself against sooner than expected.
“Remove your greedy fingers off of the m’lady!” Neckberdman demanded, as I set doctor Edelfelt to lie on her side so she wouldn’t choke. “[Vengeance of the White Knight]!”
“Hold on.” I raised my hand. “The building may collapse on them, if we battle here. Let’s step outside.”
Neckbeardman’s eyes narrowed, but he abided, waddling sideways towards the door and out onto the frigid courtyard of Happyland. “How cunning. Using my meme against me. Very low of you. Very un-Chadlike.”
“Guh?” An unseen pressure slammed against me as ambient Big Dick energy recoiled. I tasted iron in my gums. I’d just felt the backlash from Dao of Chadness. But how? There was nothing un-Chadlike about ensuring your friends were safe.
“Mfufufu.” Neckbeardman adjusted his glasses, smirking as he tilted his head backwards in a display of sneer. “I imagine the confusion that must be going through your head right now, Chad. How naïve of you, Chad. How awfully naïve. You didn’t account for my recent transition from a pure weeaboo to a cheeaboo-weeaboo hybrid in your combat plans, did you? Know this and despair before my superior intellect: I’ve studied over one million chapters of poorly translated Chinese web fics and defeated over one thousand r*dditors in intellectual fanboy argument battles. Using [300 IQ Gentleman Intellectualism], I’ve analyzed the cultivators who invaded our world and created a 101% accurate mental fan-wiki of their magic system. I comprehend the inner workings of both Qi and Dao as only one such as I can, and thus I know your weakness, Chad.”
“Ok?”
Neckbeardman adjusted his glasses again, his smirk intensifying. “You require the astonishment of others to generate Big Dick energy, and whilst you were distracted by the”—Neckbeardman spat on the ground—”uncultured men, I set up a live-stream for my two Gud Reads followers, both of whom are deeply depressed doomers!”
He flipped the cellphone around, recording me and showing me the stream-chat.
WhyLiveTho: “Meh. Bad CGI, his proportions are unrealistic. Modeler must’ve been some roided up normie, or a thirsty chick who’s never seen a real human male before. Kinda lame tbh…”
PepeOfTheEnd: “tfw even Chads have no Stacy in apocalypse lulz”
PepeOfTheEnd: “Also! What’s the point of muscles anymore? Cultivators gonna win with chinamagic anyway, so… yeah.”
The gloomy chat raced on towards eternity, ten hopelessly depressing comments a second.
Air grew cold as their negativity ripped a hole in my Big Dick energy. I felt the weight of the world fall upon my shoulders and the strain of battle settle in my muscles, as the supernatural strength of Big Dick energy flatlined.
“Clever,” I admitted, “You’ve gathered a peanut-gallery of doomers to hamper my Big Dick energy generation. But rather than being the way how a White Knight fights, this reminds me more of the Kevin I know.”
“Hmph. Arrogant Chad. You resume this inane babbling despite having lost. Take away the world’s adoration of your Chadness and what’s left, Chad? A man. A regular uncultured man before the [Blade of a True White Knight].”
His cut came as fast and deadly as a hail of bullets.
And reflected off of my [Jawline Guillotine].
I smiled. “What’s left is still an Alpha Cultivator.”
Snarling, Neckbeardman launched at me. I met his Dao of Neckbeardism with the physical might of the Muscles-on-Muscles stage and mental prowess of one who’d nearly completed the Big Brain stage.
Snow billowed as we raced across the moonlit streets. I picked up a street light and met his technique with mine. Sparks glinted in the night. Steel on steel echoed in empty alleys, adding an off-note chorus to the distant blade-song of the Humming Blade sect’s street performers.
Reality bent sideways to allow Neckbeardman’s movements to make sense. His clumsy rolls, cuts, and stabs warped space itself and hits bounced off of his belly.
I took that bent over reality and spanked sense back to it, performing my movements with the fluid crispness of cultivation reps.
“Huff… huff… It must be crushing… huff… to realize… huff… that your ‘gains’ were all… huff… for naught, as it earned you… huff… neither female affections…. huff… nor victory.“ Neckbeardman wheezed.
I chuckled. “Exercise is its own reward. Pain is temporary. Gains are eternal.”
“Argh!” Neckbeardman grimaced, holding his breast as he again suffered vicious cringe-damage backlash. “Huff… you merely say so, yet you only practice the ‘gym’, because society has indoctrinated you with pitifully simplistic caveman values that prioritize body image over intellectual mind and cultured prowess.”
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I shrugged, countering, “Fit body. Fit mind.”
“Guh!” He coughed blood.
“It makes you love yourself and can be fun with friends.”
“Gah!” Neckbeardman staggered backwards. “Silence!” he shouted, and slashed at me, unable to battle Chad-advice on an even playing field.
“Your love for the blades is a form of exercise too,” I said as we continued to trade blows and jump across the rooftops.
“The Blade is a form of art, not exercise! A perfect art that only true intellectuel such as I can perfect after eons of solitary contemplation.”
“I remember when you first traded cardboard blades with me and Nelly. She loved those times, when you ‘taught us the blade’ almost as much as she loved discussing Dr*gon B*ll’s VFX effects with you.”
“Stop!” Neckbeardman’s face twitched, his blade slipping. “Don’t bring any m’ladies into our battle!”
I pressed on, forcing him to backpedal and retreat. “Even now it’s obvious that you’re excited to show me your blade, how proud you’re to match it against my fist, how glad you are to share your passion with a friend. It’s all fine and good to have hobbies, Kevin, but it’s the people around us that can elevate our enjoyment of them tenfold and truly make us shine.”
“NOO! SILENCE! REEE…”
Though his scream technique was Dao empowered, it could not stop him from hearing my words.
“I find these moments, when a friend lets you glimpse their earnest passion and effort, some of the best in life, as it’s in these moments when you glimpse into new worlds the size of souls. And I believe at these moments, the only right thing to do is to thank our friends, and acknowledge their hard work. So thank you, Kevin, and congratulations again on touching Dao. That belief, Kevin…”
“...EEEEEEEE…”
“...is part of my original Dao of Chadness, and I’ll make you admit that we’re more than memes if I have to smack you back to your senses, old friend.”
“...EEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”
A welcome breath of Big Dick energy returned to me, as Kevin subconsciously recognized my Chadness. I grinned, channeling every drop of energy into the [Hooo I’m Approaching You?] Alpha-walk technique, and let him know the full might of an Alpha Cultivator.
***
Day of the Seventh Dragon, year 19 562 of the Era of Voidflight came later to be recognized as the first proof of their return.
Countless cultivators caught glimpses of the event, though rare few realized the full weight of what they’d witnessed.
In the marketplace, when a fatereader of Hoot-Hoot clan was attempting to predict how she might best court a certain Earthly mortal, her reading kept mysteriously giving the result of the knight and the man, as if the great forces beyond were unable to focus on anything else.
In an alley of frozen concrete and snow-buried trash, a trio of drunken friends from opposing sects sang an old folk song from their abandoned homeworld. Between a lyrically genius (if somewhat problematic) transition from donkey’s cock to jade beauties’ butts, their words slurred to a halt, as the alley itself warbled and waxed, as reality itself both sped up and slowed.
A dark giant of a man crashed through the wall, followed by another man of equally imposing stature. A curved blade danced between snowflakes, its swings invisible aside from the rends it left in concrete, steel, and earth. In that moment of dreadful awe, the men felt in their very souls the weight of his swings, and knew with full certainty that no force they could dream of wielding could withstand that blade.
And yet, there he was, a man who could.
An angular silhouette as dark as his foe, his eyes gleaming dots, his body as impossible as the blade. Metal met his flesh and found its match, lighting the alley with sparks.
That one flash was all the men saw of the two giants in the dark. Given that they were merely at the second realm of their respective sects, the trio suspected they’d witnessed a private duel of two seniors.
Elsewhere, in a warm room dimly lit by the burning tips of Qi-infused incense sticks and lanterns muted by paper dividers, of the seven venerable elders gathered around the low table, two paused as they sensed trembles in their respective Daos. Despite their over three-hundred-year long personal enmities, these two elders of Humming Blade sect and Can Can Clan locked gazes for the first time since their grand-grand-grand-grand-grand children decided to marry against everyone’s wishes.
Unbeknownst to the other five, a conversation was had through Qi techniques alone.
‘Elder Hu.’
‘I sensed it, elder Ca.’
‘Sage realm, at the very least. Let us set aside old feuds for tonight.’
Elder Hu tilted his teacup in rebuttal that only elder Ca could understand.
Elder Ca raised his brow half a nanometer to express his bafflement. ‘Elder Hu?’
‘Feel your Dao, elder Ca. No sage realm cultivator has such control of their Dao as to make ours tremble. Take a seat, raise your tea-cup, and pray the fates that whoever is causing this spares our sects from their wrath.’
Unfortunately for the two, neither elder was privy to the politics of lesser deity and true deity cultivators, and were thus unaware of the dangers of pure Dao cultivators.
However, fate was not a one-sided coin. Thousands of kilometers, two seas, and a wasteland of ice away, on a glacier throne covered in the pelts of mammothic polar beasts, a lesser deity sensed foreign powers battling within his domain, and set forth a chain of events that would later lead to the annihilation of Townberg.
On the positive flipside of that coin of fate, on the internet, in an almost abandoned stream-chat populated by two souls forgotten by joy, sounded a ping, as usernames ‘junior bruh’ and ‘JustChad’ entered the chat.
***
At first, it’d been a trickle.
Now Big Dick energy flooded into me from distant sources and Neckbeardman, empowering my every technique and allowing me to unlock the full potential of the Big Brain stage, splitting my brain to multitask. One of my focuses narrowed entirely onto my next move, the angle of my posture, and the flex of my muscles, whilst another portion of my mind expanded to simulate his next hundred thousand moves and calculate optimal Chad-counters.
Alleys and sceneries blurred past us as we danced the lethal choreographies of blade and fist at concrete crushing speeds. Empty buildings collapsed behind us. Footprints were left on stone. We fought across the streets, over the rooftops, and in the interims of climb and free-fall.
Bruises accumulated on his armor of fat. My muscles collected cuts. For hours we fought, letting the world beyond the battle slip into subconscious.
Attack and parry.
Faint and evasion.
Cover and positioning.
Muscle and motion were all that I thought of.
The reason we fought became irrelevant, our identities secondary.
We were fist against blade.
Chad against Neckbeard.
Titan and Kevin.
He’d twisted reality to best me and burned through twenty bags of D*ritos and ten bottles of Mountain D*w a minute to fuel his techniques, but the battle had already been decided. It had been over the moment he’d subconsciously acknowledged my Chadness.
“[Blade of the One Who Has Studied the Blade While You Were Having Fun!]”
The Dao infused attack exceeded supersonic speeds, slashing air, rock, and reality. It was simply swatted aside by a single Big Dick energy infused [Alpha Slap]. I frowned, realizing our bout was nearing its end, which meant that soon I would witness the true nature of the man I’d once called a friend, and be forced to judge him.
“Hrmph. Is that all Chad? Your [Big Brain] has not yet proved to gain an edge over my [300 IQ intellectualism],” said Neckbeardman, huffing and sweating.
“I wasn’t only using it against you.”
“Nani?”
I nodded at the path of slashes he had carved behind us. With [Alpha Slap], I’d manipulated them into the shape of instructions to help paramedics get to Happyland faster, thus ensuring that my friends got the medical treatment they required.
Neckbeardman scoffed. “How unexpectedly noble of a Chad like you, but is that it?”
“There’s more. Take a look at your stream chat.”
Frowning, Neckbeardman glanced at his cellphone. I’d joined the chat shortly after my junior bruh, and together we’d used Chad encouraging techniques to make the two doomers open up about themselves and begin to see the light of life once more. Right now they were happily chatting away with…
“M-masaka?! How did my favorite animay voice actress join the stream chat?” Neckbeardman shivered from shock, struggling to peel his fingers and eyes away from the chat. “Guh. I acknowledge your move, but I won’t be defeated so easily. Is this it, Chad?”
“Hardly. Most of the battle was spent cross referencing the city map against your wedding schedule and one-by-one checking the likely locations, where we would find them.” I kicked a metal door right next to us off its hinges.
It flew into and through a second door and then a third, revealing a long hallway with a room at its end.
There, wrapped in a blanket, Nelly slept on the couch. Beside her, a fox-eared woman and a feather-garbed cultivator known as Silent Feather stared at us wide eyed, just as the former had been about to hand over a glowing forest-green orb to the latter.