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“The work progresses,” Balagra said, standing beside Vir. “But I have to ask—at what cost?”
Vir pursed his lips as he cast his gaze over the budding base from the ramparts of its tall walls.
A week had passed, since Vir had led his demons to the forest, and the camp was finally beginning to feel like a home. It wasn’t just the many wooden structures that had stood proudly where there had previously been only dirt, or even the routine the demons had fallen into. It was the small things—sleeping under a roof, the pounding of the blacksmiths’ hammers, the idle chatter.
There was an atmosphere of hope here that simply couldn’t have ever existed at Garrison Atnu. Thanks, in part, to the relative peace they’d won. The local Ash Beasts had mostly kept to themselves, and the opportunistic among them had either fallen into the moat, where they’d been picked off by defenders, or had turned tail and run when they’d been blasted with magic.
It hardly felt like the Ashen Realm at all.
And with Malik overseeing logistics, concerns such as sanitation, orderly distribution of food, ash sweep duties, guard duty, and a myriad of other affairs had been taken care of with little issue.
Of course, Malik certainly didn’t feel that way, but the demon had proven exceedingly capable of handling problems on his own without Vir’s aid.
As for himself, Vir continued his regular scouting patrols outside the garrison, but he’d been doing fewer and fewer of those as his attention shifted from construction to instruction.
That was both good and bad—it allowed him to concentrate on the real reason they were here. It also deprived him of the opportunity to search for nearby Ash Gates. There were practical reasons for those outings, beyond just Vir’s desire to report to Cirayus.
While the camp had a handful of blacksmiths among their number, they’d need access to new metal to repair armament when they inevitably wore down. Not to mention, blacksmiths could only do so much without anvils.
They also needed a thaumaturge—both for Vir to try and learn the arcane art—and to inscribe tattoos on the demons who currently lacked them.
The sooner every fighter in their army possessed an Aspect or Bloodline tattoo, the sooner they could begin mastering it. Vir was under no delusions that they’d learn quickly, but some tattoos were easier to wield than others. They might not turn the force into an Ash Beast slaying machine overnight, but they’d at least help even the odds.
On the whole, their situation would be almost idyllic, were it not for the unusual characteristics of their current location within the Ash.
“The time flow might not favor us here,” Vir said, “but we do have time. We have no other pressing engagements. No reason why we couldn’t spend another month in this place.”
“A month that may be close to a year outside,” Balagra said. “I suppose the world had written us off, anyway. What’s another year?”
While that might’ve been true for the troops, it certainly wasn’t for Vir, personally.
What of Cirayus? What of Maiya?
It was the latter he worried for the most. Maiya had been in a precarious situation when he’d left her. Was she alright? Was she safe?
Vir had to find a solution to this issue—and fast. As much as he wished to spend time in the Ash with his troops, he had obligations outside that he couldn’t afford to miss.
While he couldn’t be sure of the time discrepancy, he doubted—he hoped—only a month or two had passed in the outside world while he was gone. Whether that was simply a fool’s hope, or hope brought about by his understanding of how deep they were within the Ash, he couldn’t know.
For now, it was a problem without a solution. For now, the demons came first.
“Care to join us today?” Balagra asked. “Not that they’re slackers, but the troops really give it their all when you’re around.”
Vir smirked. “I was planning to, regardless.”
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“Again!” Balagra barked, and fifty demons fell into a forward stance, throwing a right punch and holding it there. After experimenting with larger groups, they’d found that fifty was the workable maximum with the limited instructors they had. While the garrison was large enough to easily support more troops, any more and the demons wouldn’t receive the attention they needed.
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If there was one thing worse than no form, it was poor form, and Balagra wouldn’t have any of it.
Both Vir and Balagra walked—well, Balagra slithered—through their orderly ranks, inspecting their form, but it was Balagra who oversaw the class.
“No, twist your torso,” Balagra barked. “Your strength flows from your legs, through your body, and into your arms. To deal damage, your whole body must be engaged. Why, you ask? Why does it matter when we have our bloodline arts? Because a strike with magic begins with proper form. Master your body, and your arts will follow, growing stronger, faster, and deadlier.”
Vir paused to consider those words. While he hadn’t ever questioned it, Cirayus’ training in the Ash had forced the errors out of his form—not that it was bad to begin with. Especially for Vir’s own magic, which relied heavily on his body, it made total sense. That the same principles applied for everyone else made him a little happy. He’d spent so long being different that normalcy could be nice at times.
As Vir walked, he nodded to the trainees, who either gawked openly or averted their eyes. There didn’t seem to be much middle ground in their reactions.
Unlike Balagra, Vir didn’t speak loudly, or even at all. He simply corrected their form when he saw errors, nudging their limbs gently. It was plenty. In fact, his attention seemed to have far more effect than Balagra’s.
“Good! Now, break up into pairs. Grab your training spears. We’ll fight one-on-one,” Balagra barked.
The response was mediocre. Several of these demons weren’t warriors, and they weren’t used to being injured, even if Balagra healed their wounds after.
Which was why he’d had the bright idea of tricking Vir.
“For this section, the Akh Nara himself will provide instruction. Listen well. Not every day you get to learn from a living god.”
Vir resisted the urge to Blink to the naga and wring his neck. Barely.
“Right,” Vir said, scrambling to come up with some words of wisdom that wouldn’t make him sound like a moron.
When he glanced back at the naga, he found him smiling back.
I swear, he’s got it in for me…
All eyes locked onto him with anticipation.
Vir cleared his throat. “I brought you to this realm to train. To grow strong, by pitting your mettle against Ash Beasts. But the first thing you must learn is that learning to fight Ash Beasts and learning to fight demons are entirely separate things.”
Falling into a rhythm, Vir paced as he walked, hands clasped neatly behind his back. “Ash Beasts do not use tactics. They do not need tactics. They will shred you with brute strength alone. While some demons prefer such straightforward ways, most will not. What beasts teach you, however, is the mindset of the Warrior.”
Weaving in between pairs of demons, Vir made eye contact as much as he could. To try and hammer home just how important this lesson was.
“Mindset is everything,” Vir said loudly. “The grit to look death in the eye and fight—this is what you must learn during your time here. Tactics? Skills? Weapons and armor? Yes, these are all important, but without the proper mindset, you will fail. And here, failure means death. Remember that when you spar with one another. Do not see a friend in them. Do not see a demon. See an Ash Beast, desperately attempting to end you. Only then will your training have merit.”
Vir rejoined Balagra, returning with a smile of his own. The naga’s expression was halfway between surprised and impressed. He nodded back.
“You hear that? Fight with all you have. Better to drop some blood here than drop an arm out there! Now get to it!”
The demons shouted back enthusiastic affirmations and fell into their training.
Vir watched over them for a while before retreating to his quarters. There was a more pressing matter he had to attend to. A wall in his training he’d been hammering at with every spare moment. One he absolutely needed to break down.
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Vir sat cross legged in the moderately sized log room that had been assigned to him. He’d initially refused, claiming such a space was an extravagance they couldn’t afford. Not even Balagra had that privilege—he shared a cabin with Malik and the other ‘officers’, as Malik had taken to calling them.
The remainder of the troops lived in the four long, rectangular barracks they’d erected. While cramped, it was still an enormous upgrade over the open bivy they’d had prior. Not a single one had complained. At least, not about their sleeping arrangements.
Fights had broken out—usually either over minor disagreements, or over one flavor of Akh Nara fanaticism versus another.
In the end, Vir had talked the demons down from building a multi-room abode to a single large space. With a raised bed of leaves in the corner as its only amenity, it felt painfully empty.
Vir hardly cared. He merely needed a place he could be alone for hours.
Opening his Foundation Chakra, he sunk into his mindscape.
The brown wood of the cabin disappeared, and Vir found himself in a forest like no other. Crisp, natural air tingled his nose as overgrown songbirds chirped high above in the forest canopy through which the rays of sunlight danced on the forest floor.
Vir wasn’t under that canopy. He was seated in a clearing, and there, the sun shined brightly, casting its warmth upon him.
A gangly demon crouched atop an enormous fallen Godhollow some paces away.
“Suggestions?” Vir asked Ekanai, who jumped down from his perch.
“This is not working,” his predecessor replied. “It seems that inflicting mental pain upon you will not open your Life Chakra.”
Vir’s fists clenched. “There must be a way.”
Given his powers, Vir should be incomparable to other demons. Untouchable. And yet, he was forced to tread with utmost caution every time he entered battle.
First against the Prana Gorger, then against the Chitran Army. The Warrior Chakra was like a knife in the dark, threatening him at every turn.
The one ability against which he had no defense. The Life Chakra, while useful in that it allowed him to hurl Chakra attacks, forcing his opponents to react in the middle of battle, was merely a stepping stone in his mind.
The one after that—the Shield Chakra—gave him proper defense against that of the Warrior.
“While I may not have grown closer to the Life Chakra, training with you here hasn’t been without merit.”
“Oh?” Ekanai rasped.
“I can feel it. It’s the same as when I trained with Cirayus. I can feel that I’ve grown closer to opening it. Perhaps not fully, but enough.”
“I see,” Ekanai said. “Just as you summoned me to this place.”
“Yes. I’m going to summon Shardul.”