‘Why did I choose to follow him?
Why do some choose to watch the sun rise and fall? They may tell you that the sight is beautiful. That it inspires hope. That it is nostalgic. Invokes peace.
Regardless of the answer they give you. The reality is that they have no idea why they do it.
The same is true for me. I have no idea. Other than I simply wanted to.
Though I will tell you that he saved me. He- like he’s done for countless others- liberated me. Not from a set of manacles or the heel of an oppressor, but from myself.
‘Know yourself. Always seek self-improvement.’
More than magic. More than martial technique. More than philosophy or science. That was the most important lesson he taught me. Those two rules served to break me from my shell and remove it from my back.
But that is not why I follow him.
It is not because he saved me from myself. It is not because he guided me to my potential. Neither is it because he is one of the few who are both powerful and honorable. Nor is it for any of the following reasons.
He commands respect, but he does not demand it from his subjects. He earns it. He is the guidepost that leads to freedom. He is the key that unshackles oppression. He is the bane of the vile. Hope for the dreary. He is good. He is evil.
But that is not why I or anyone else chose to march through the night behind him.
We march because we are all selfish. Just like him. We march because we don’t care about being labeled as saviors or sinners; heroes or villains. We follow him because he has dreams of bringing great change to the Mortal Plane and will help us achieve ours in exchange.
So then, the question to ask is: What is my dream?
Like a few others, I have none. Other than witnessing the change to come.
I have no dreams. Other than being a part of the unending march.
Because by marching, I’m able to influence the work that leads to change. Thus I can make my own change in this cruel world.
Now then, I ask you: Why do you march?’
Excerpt from ‘The Journey of Realms.’ - O.E.M.P.B.
***
Amun.
***
“Hey!”
Perhaps it was due to my recent time in the library, but when Peter spun wildly on his heels in response to my call I almost didn’t recognize him. He was still on the shorter side, but his already toned body had built up a decent amount of mass in the time that we’d been here. His skin, still tanned and leathery, received a much-needed break thanks to the expansive forest around us and the lotions and creams Zakira demanded he use liberally.
Now, he could easily pass as someone of his social standing. A Bodhi Tree Page. His hair was greased and tied back into a ponytail, showing off the windshield forehead and beaming eyes he usually kept hidden behind his curls. Although, parts of the old him were still there. Specifically, the wide smile as he began skipping toward me. But I quickly halted him with a raised hand.
“I’ll tell you later.”
He stopped at once and nodded with a small grunt.
“Believe in yourself, Pete.”
“I know.” He smiled. “I do.”
“Good.” I grinned. “I believe in you too. So don’t hold back. Ever.”
“Thank you.”
With a final nod, Peter trotted off to the crystal to grab his fans and went off through the portal without a look back. Leaving me to sigh a final time before stepping inside to face the music.
“AMUN!”
Zakira pounced on me like a spider monkey the moment I entered. Followed by the rest of my party approaching in waves with their probing questions.
“Your courage knows no bounds!” Slate stepped forth with a brew of honey tea cupped in his hands.
Stolen novel; please report.
“So, what happened?” Scarlett asked.
“I didn’t want to kill the dragon so I banished it.”
“Banished?” Her head recoiled in confusion.
“Yeah.” I nodded and caught a suspicious look from Urshure as I turned to find a seat. “Disappeared it from the Mortal Plane.”
“They said it was a red Wyrmling!” Samson exclaimed while pointing to Peter, on his screen. “Sixteen years old and that powerful! I’d have shat my pants!”
"Yes," Cononthoth growled with pleasure. "Roasted on the spot, he would have been. All of them. Except for the scaled one, perhaps. He would be mine."
‘Eating my family and subordinates isn’t a part of our deal.’ I snorted in turn. ‘Me or anyone else, however, is fair game.’
"This ‘moon’ you spoke of. What is it?"
‘I’m sure one as mighty as the Exalted Gloom senses it?’ I mentally chortled while placating my classmates. ‘The divinity that lies dormant inside me? It will awaken once I complete my ritual, for I am Amun. Champion of the Creator, Telin. Anyone not blessed by me is fair game for you to eat.’
Looking through my eye from my Twilight Domain, Cononthoth studied my peers for but a fraction of a second before emitting a condescending huff. "And these among you will be… blessed?" She asked.
‘Most of them.’ I nodded. ‘Take this one for example.’ I turned my gaze towards the screens. ‘He was a coward when I met him just six months ago. He was a former slave who let those in high society step on him even after he obtained power and freedom. I implore you to observe him as he is now, Cononthoth. Watch him as he fights and tell me what you see.'
"My observation stems from curiosity alone, Tiny Devil.” She spat in my mind. ‘Remember that!”
‘I’ll never forget.’ I rolled my eyes, then turned my focus to Peter, standing alone in a vast desert.
Across the sandpits and dunes, his eyes traced for moments and minutes until he snapped into motion.
Leaning down, he took off his shoes and stored them in his bag before sliding his feet across the sand. Carefully, and cautiously, he slid forward to sense the subtle vibrations in the sand to map out the environment. Then he squatted. With his muscles already bolstered with mana, dull-gray energy then began to form around Peter’s feet and the sand reacted at once. Congealing and condensing into a platform of solid stone that launched him into the sky.
The boulder mana continued building in his feet as Peter rose, reached his apex, and reached a critical mass as he began falling like a meteor onto his small court. Like an incorporeal bunker buster, the mana shot into the ground without resistance to detonate somewhere far below ground. Sending first a rumble to the surface that quickly crescendoed to an implosion of sand, rock, and a guttural scream echoing from somewhere within the chasm.
While the ground began cascading into the new aquifer carved into the bedrock, Peter’s pillar remained standing tall. He stood atop it, fans in hand as he spun in a majestic dance that entranced the winds themselves. With one spin on his heels, his fans followed and looped around him. Creating a temporary vacuum that pulled the surrounding air into a powerful gale around him. Pulling sand, stone, and dust into a billowing mushroom cloud that spread into the sky. Another spin and a dust devil of colossal proportions ensued to erase the surrounding dunes from where they stood.
A dip. A rise. Another spin. Another guttural scream echoed from not as far below loomed as the gale evolved into a tornado. Yet, deep within the eye, Peter kept spinning. He kept dancing. His fans kept calling for more and more winds to spin around his pillar until the bedrock itself was exposed and a living, screaming tunnel was pulled forth from the ground.
“Long time no see.” I chortled.
“Ah!” Winston exclaimed from a nearby corner. "So you’ve seen the Epethian Crawler? That’s a surprise.” He laughed. “Considering you fly around everywhere.”
“I have.” I nodded at both him and the hundreds of meters-long worm screaming from within the tornado. “Roheisa was going to kill it.”
“She should’ve.” He huffed.
“I’m sure someone else will take care of it.” I shrugged.
Winston stayed silent. He only flicked his eyes between the cyclone spinning in excess of 200 meters per second and Peter, still spinning with a slow grace atop his platform until he took a sudden dip. Then Winston’s eyes remained on Peter as he rose into a spin to produce a roaring serpent made of magical blue flames.
Enriched by the potent winds, the serpent spiraled and spun until it began expanding and eventually merged with the tempest entirely. If the sandworm was now screaming, it was but a whisper when compared to the infernal rage of Peter’s tempest. In blues and whites and reds, the tornado shone from ground to sky to flash the clouds to steam and melt the sand to glass while somewhere within, the beast burned to cinders.
We couldn’t see it, but Peter must have noticed it, as he suddenly ceased his rotation to begin swaying both his body and his fans back and forth. Side to side while his arms pulled a deluge into a figure eight around him. For seconds onto minutes, the interlude pressed on until the dance resumed with a sudden sweeping rise of his fan.
Like a living geyser, the deluge mimicked Peter’s dance and rocketed into the sky to be swept away into a fine spray of water and steam. The fire tornado was doused in an instant. Transformed into a steam-filled hurricane of epic proportions. Yet Peter kept sweeping his arms upward. Adding more and more water to the hurricane until the steam turned to a drizzle and then on to rain and sleet and hail.
The half-glass half-sand that had been Peter’s surroundings was soon caked into mud and swept away into the chasm, forming drains and canals for the violent downpour to converge and pour into a new oasis until suddenly, Peter reversed his movements. His fan was pulled down and around into a single counter-clockwise spin that served to instantly calm the storm in a violent shockwave of water and mud. What was left was Peter, breathing heavily atop his pillar of stone while glass chunks and sand patties and a downpour of nearly biblical proportions rained around him.
"Hmph." Cononthoth huffed from within her den. "He is puny and weak. But his skill is worth praise."
‘I’m in the process of leading all of them to their potential,’ I said through my domain while looking out at my Party. ‘I gave them knowledge and wisdom. Many of them have expressed interest in joining me already. Like this one.’ I turned to Zakira.
"Your lover?"
‘Somewhat. Our relationship is more or less open until I’ve accomplished my goals in exploring the realms. After that.’ I sighed. ‘I’ll be having a kid with her.’
"Good," Cononthoth growled, curiously so.
“Hey,” Zakira said. “I’m gonna go change. But…” Pausing, she leaned close to whisper in my ear. “What should I call you while I pray?”
“Uh.” I tapped at my chin for a few seconds before shrugging. “How about Mani?”
“Okay!”