Chapter 2 Right in the Kisser

As soon as Varnan said the word “what”, Khyree hit him dead in his mouth with a devastating right-hand punch. Varnan was caught completely by surprise, he stumbled back a few steps and spat out some blood. Khyree, unwilling to lose the momentum of the fight, rushed Varnan and tackled him to the ground. Varnan’s eyes bugged out as the wind was knocked out of him by the impact of the ground. In only a matter of a few seconds, Khyree had managed to hit Varnan more than a dozen times.

By that time, Varnan’s associates finally looked over and saw what was happening. In a flash they were all on him, pulling Khyree off of Varnan. Daquan laid curled up forgotten on the other side of the road.

“How dare you lay hands on the Immortal Varnan of the Covenmoon House?!” yelled one of the cronies, as he and the rest of the group proceeded to pound on and stomp Khyree into the road.

“The nerve of these peasants these days,” snorted another one of the group.

Khyree was no stranger to being on the receiving end of a beat down, as such the first thing he did was to curl up in a ball and protect his vitals. He knew that he had lost the momentum of the fight and that he was in for a rough time. Fine, it was something he could accept.

He knew that it was not possible to win every fight. But he would be damned if he just let them have their way with him with no consequence. That was how he was raised.

He picked his openings in the briefest moments that they appeared and kicked out, punched, or bit his targets with rabid ferocity. He was determined to share his pain with his aggressors. He figured he might lose this fight but everyone was leaving the scene bleeding. He just couldn’t believe that he was losing so badly.

With all of the essence beasts he had fought while growing up, he had never thought fighting a human let alone a group of humans would be such a difficult situation. It felt like every time he hit one of them, it was like he was hitting the toughest of stones. Even their skin felt like the strongest of tree bark between his teeth. He could actually feel the microfractures as they occurred in his hands, and in his bones as he was repeatedly punched and stomped on.

He had lost count of how many times he had coughed up blood due to the extreme pummeling he was getting. He knew that that meant that he was suffering some internal damage. But instead of being afraid and begging for mercy, he growled and fought back as often and as hard as he could. Moments turned into minutes as the beatdown continued.

Varnan was in a state of shock. He actually could not believe that a mere peasant would dare to hit him. As a spoiled favored son of his family, he had never been in a fight before. As such he never before had cause to develop the instincts of a fighter. Until his cronies pulled the stranger off of him, he had just laid there in a state of bewilderment.

Moments after the realization of events finally caught up to him. As an early Immortal, the pain was immaterial, but what got him was the audacity involved with the act. Then there was the humiliation of his followers seeing him in such low straits. He would not let this incident define him.

“What are y’all doing?!” he said moving back into the fight. “He is one guy! Just hold him down.”

“We’re trying, but this damn peasant is squirrelly as all abyss,” one of his men replied. “It’s like trying to pin down a monkey.”

Varnan who was full of arrogance and a mix of anger and frustration, exasperatedly yelled out, “Watch out, let me show you all how it’s done.” While all of his followers were in the early stages of being Immortal like himself, Varnan was a full rank above them in his cultivation. Thanks to his family’s wealth and connections he had already started actively cultivating, using a rogue Immortal cultivation technique. He quickly took charge of the situation and had his men secure the stranger’s arms and legs.

He then proceeded to concentrate his attacks on the stranger’s torso and head. He was thrilled by the sound of hearing the sound of ribs being broken, the gasps of pain being uttered between clenched teeth.

Khyree hung on for as long as he could as the thunderous blows kept coming. He refused to give his attackers the pleasure of hearing his screams or begging for mercy. He gritted his teeth in silence. As the pain mounted from the assault, he felt himself losing consciousness. The beating continued.

Daquan had long fully recovered. He wanted to rush over and help the stranger, but when he saw fierce expressions on the attacker’s faces as they went at the stranger his fear got the best of him. Instead, what he did was sent up prayers for the stranger and counted his own blessings. He knew that Varnan and his crew were a particularly vicious group, but he never would have thought that they would beat up on a mortal peasant like this.

Hours later, Khyree regained consciousness. He found himself alone in a strange room, and on a strange surface. It was firm with very little give. Khyree found it completely unnatural and totally uncomfortable. He tossed off his sheet and quickly jumped to his feet. The wooden floor squeaked beneath his feet.

It was a simple room that consisted of a modest sleeping area, some kind of a storage bin, a lonely looking chair and a simple table.

Khyree was pleased to note that he still had on his loincloth, though it did seem to have been washed and changed. Also, he noticed that he had been cleaned at some point as well.

After a quick but exhaustive search, he was unable to locate his satchel. A spark of anger ignited inside of him as he figured that his attackers must have taken it as their prize after his defeat. He was determined that he would revisit that conversation at a later date.

Moments later, Daquan came into the room. He was dressed in some thin linen robes. In his hands, he carried a tray laden with various bowls and towels. “Oh, you’re awake. I was just bringing you some more medicine. You should try and take it easy, you were hurt pretty bad.”

Khyree instantly recognized the man in front of him as the village stranger that was getting beat up when he came across him on the road. “Medicine? I feel fine. Where am I?” he said as he stepped towards the young man.

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After he set the tray down on a nearby table, Daquan stepped forward to introduce himself. “For your wounds..” Even as he said that his widened in surprise as he noticed that the stranger was completely blemish-free. “But they were just... You were just...” his words came to a sputtering halt as Daquan temporarily lost the ability to speak as he stared at Khyree.

He knew for a fact that when he had brought this stranger home, that Khyree had suffered multiple broken bones and that he had a host of internal injuries. Honestly, as far as he was concerned, he was surprised to see that Khyree had even survived, it was nothing short of a miracle that the young man had even held on for this long.

For days now he had been checking on Khyree every six hours as he fed him, changed him, applied poultices, and changed his dressings. The last time he had visited the stranger he had still been covered in massive bruises. But now all of the bruises were gone, almost as if they had never been there, to begin with. Impossible, Daquan thought to himself in amazement.

While he stood there with his mouth ajar, and facial expressions flickering, Khyree stepped past him and moved to the table. After a quick sniff, he proceeded to down all of the medicinal fluids in the small ebony cups in a very short order. He liked the pleasant burn as the drinks went down his throat.

“So you were saying?” asked Khyree in a calm voice.

Daquan quickly regained his composure and continued. “Right. So allow me to introduce myself, my name is…"

"Daquan," interrupted Khyree. "Yeah I caught that back on the road. I'm Khyree."

"Mourntree. Well since you appear to be feeling better, let's take a walk," Daquan said as he led the way out of the room.

Khyree found himself following Daquan down a short hallway that led to an open space that seemed to be an area meant for receiving guests. There were strange but comfortable looking pieces of furniture arranged around a fire pit with short tables interspersed throughout. The floor was hard packed dirt, and had a number of reed mats thrown about.

The ceiling was made of a very clear crystal type material that allowed the sun to shine through brilliantly. In the center of the ceiling just above the fire pit was a squared metered piece of dark porous looking piece of stone.

Daquan took a seat on one of the couches and gestured for Khyree to sit wherever. Once they were both seated Daquan spoke again. He had spent the short walk, collecting his thoughts and deciding what he wanted to say.

"Welcome to my home. Well actually this is my family's home. We have a small family farm, and a modest residence. My brothers and my dad are out working the fields even now. Normally I would be as well, but since it was discovered that I have the potential to be an Immortal, my time is largely my own as I pursue the Path of Immortality.

After that fight on the road where you were heavily injured I could not in good conscience leave you there to be at the mercy of the elements and the beasts of the land. So I brought you here and tended to your wounds."

Khyree nodded his head in understanding. "That is the second time I heard that word, Immortal. What does it mean?" He inquired.

"Immortal? How is it that you do not know this word?" Daquan asked in open astonishment. "Every child of man is taught this word from the time that they are old enough to walk and talk. It is the legend of the Immortals that inspire us to live intensely passionate lives in the hope that we might one day be worthy. It is also the word that teaches us to be aware of our actions, in fear of getting on their bad side."

Daquan paused as he noticed that Khyree's face showed no reaction. It was almost as if the words he had said so far meant nothing to him. How could this be, he thought to himself.

"Immortals are people who have the innate ability to cultivate the essence of the earth and the universe and use it to transform themselves into divine beings capable of destroying mountains, shattering the sky and other incredible feats. Entire civilisations have been created and destroyed by Immortals. To the children of man, Immortals are both gods and devils. To be feared and worshipped in equal measures."

Khyree while his face showed no expression inside he was jumping for joy. In all of the pictographs he had studied in ruins, there were tales of the so called Immortals. Men and women with radiant forms who flew in the skies, dominated essence beasts and carved through legions of enemy opponents.

He had thought that those tales were just the imaginings of a weaker species. A fairy tale that they told themselves to make themselves feel better. Khyree knew the truth however. For he had grown up in the inner depths of the Wilds, he knew exactly how weak humans were.

Or at least he thought he did. But if what this Daquan was telling the truth, then that meant those reliefs were more than just the products of imagination, that they were a history of humanity's achievements. For years, Khyree had always detested the fact that he was human, that he was born to be weak. To be dominated by the essence beasts of the world again and again. Painfully. But if humans really did have the potential to become Immortals, then that changed everything for him. It opened up a whole new world of possibilities that he had never considered before.

"So you're one of these Immortals, then?" Khyree asked in a clear voice.

Feeling somewhat proud of himself, Daquan nodded his head in the affirmative. "Yes, I am. The first one in my family to become one in over a thousand years," he replied.

"Oh so that means you can fly then?" asked Khyree.

"Well, no."

"Jump over a mountain in a single bound?"

"No."

"Shatter the heavens with a single punch?"

"No."

"I see. So how are you an Immortal again?" asked Khyree.

Eyebrow twitching, Daquan had to work on his breathing before he answered Khyree's question. "I am an Immortal because I can channel the essence of the earth and the universe. My capabilities far exceed those of regular humans," he boasted proudly.

"An Immortal that can't fly, jump super high or shatter the heavens with a punch. Hmm."

"I only recently became an Immortal, I'm still in the early stages."

"Sure. Sure. I believe you. I mean it's your story, you can tell it however you want," replied Khyree.

"I'll have you know that since I have started cultivating that I have become exponentially more powerful than I used to be. I can run faster and farther. I am stronger than ever before, and my lifespan has dramatically increased."

There was a gleam in Khyree's eyes as he responded. "Doesn't really seem all that special, I mean you were getting beat up pretty bad back on the road."

"That's only because they were Immortals as well!" Daquan shouted. Taking a deep breath, he then continued. "That fight never would have gone that way had it been a group of humans fighting me. Then there's the fact that when Varnan and his cronies set their eyes on someone it's best to just let them have their way until they get bored and wander off."

"Well that seems like a bad way to live one's life," Khyree responded. "What's the point of being an Immortal if you're going to live the life of a victim?"

"Easy for you to say Khyree, you've only just got here. It has always been this way for us. The strong get the right of way in all things. Varnan Covenmoon and his followers have been Immortals for half a dozen years already and are ranks above every other Immortal in town with the exception of the village chief and head of the guards. Both of whom almost never interfere unless it's directly related to the safety or the prosperity of the village. As long as no one dies, no one really does anything."

"So that means Varnan and his gang can pretty much get away with anything then. Well that's a pity." Khyree considered the problem for a minute. It seemed like the outside world wasn't all that different from the Wilds after all.

"Alright well tell me some more about your village. It seems I have a lot to learn.”