“A Cog…”

The word turned to ash in the pale warrior’s mouth as his Xu’Jan readied their blades, each of them chanting the words of power that their Lord of Light had bequeathed unto them.

“You see?” Ori’un said playfully. “Even the stones of this earth themselves reject your Lord, bone-head.”

The commander of the Xu’Jan stood calmly, head held high to watch the machine as it crept forward to face him.

Not a single sound stirred in the village. XJ-V had eyes only for the pale-demon that watched him, his hand resting on the hilt of his thin blade. Even the blazing embers of the fires seemed to fade away as the Cog of the Dragon and the human of the Eagle met each others’ stalwart gazes across the blighted stones that remained of Tenak village.

The villagers shriveled in their captivity, watching as the Xu’Jan all turned to ready themselves for battle.

And then, with a predatory licking of his lips, their commander gave them the word.

“Slay it.”

The Xu’Jan charged with deadly intent, blades held high, swinging through the air in arcs of dazzling light that would have cut through the Dao itself. XJ-V stayed calm, focused, and present. He breathed, felt the Qi running through the Chakras of his soul, and let them come.

The first warrior thrust for his chest and he sidestepped the blow, spinning to deliver a Flaming Dervish that snapped the warrior’s neck and sent him spinning off into the burning debris of a building. The next Paladin he caught with a quick, steady hand, employing the Tiger’s Flurry Earth technique he had gleaned from Fai-Deng after weeks of being pummeled with his lightning-quick punches. He twisted the Paladin’s wrist effortlessly and sent him cascading down the streets like a bowling ball right into his sprinting friends.

As the melee commenced, the villagers began murmuring amongst themselves, their timid whimpers beginning to turn into cautious optimism.

But one prisoner among them certainly wasn’t keeping his mouth shut.

“HAR!” Ori’un cheered from the sidelines. “GO ON, BROTHER COG! Let them feel the bite of a metal dragon!”

XJ-V obliged, whirring to narrowly avoid another slash from a Xu’Jan soldier. He swept the boy’s feet with another Dervish that kicked him into the air. With a flourish of dazzling flame, the Cog followed up with a roundhouse kick that cracked the boy’s ribs as he fell to the ground, his sword skidding away from his twitching hands.

He readied himself for more. Now, he had gone farther than he ever thought he would. He had gone where his Dao-self had shown him he could go.

But, he realized as two more Paladins came swinging for his neck. It was a choice that I made.

His Dragon Tooth punches sent both soldiers skidding back, though they managed to slice through his firebolts with quick strikes from their light-imbued swords – light that XJ-V knew could sever his connection to the Dao right then and there. If they had done so to Ori’un, he’d have no chance.

So he ducked and rolled between them, administering a series of quick punches to their guts as he avoided their attacks. The boys spun, winded, and sent the edges of their blades down to slice clean through his head. In the next second, however, what they saw was nothing more than a blur of energy – the Cog’s hands had come up to grab the hilts of their weapons and knock them out of each boy’s hand before they could even blink. Once they did, they both coughed up a torrent of blood as they felt their chests implode with the impact of the metal man’s fists again.

XJ-V stood over his fallen opponents, watching them writhe in pain and seeing the once energized tips of their blades stutter and die as lightning cracked overhead, bathing the fiery village in rain. Still more of the soldiers charged him – some jumping out from the smoke-strewn depths of the village huts and aiming for his vitals. But he was ready. He had been ready ever since that night in Hensha, and ever since he had re-lived the pain these indoctrinated warriors had inflicted on him in Ai-Lee’s Grove. His vision then had shown him what he now saw to be true – these boys had been taught to fear him. Him – and all his kind. Killing them would do nothing but reinforce those fears. In the dream-vision he had struck without mercy. Here, amidst the hailstorms the heaven sent against him, he was focused on disarming those who came at him with his Dragontail Swipe.

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Because only one had to die here, tonight.

One by one, his opponents fell before him, and he began inching towards their ringleader.

Through it all, the pale demon simply stood and watched.

He makes no move to save his men, XJ-V thought as another Xu’Jan warrior tasted the plated steel of his ankle. He simply watches like a vulture. Maybe he thinks they will tire me out? Perhaps he wants his pawns to wear me down.

If that was the case, he was gravely mistaken in his strategy.

XJ-V’s hands moved in a blur of motion, knuckles coated with the blood and ichor of his felled foes, meting their cries of hatred and silencing them within mere seconds, until he finally came to the last line of five Xu’Jan who waited in defense of their Master.

XJ-V threw one of their comrades at them – his face a garbled mass of broken bones and bruised cheeks. They watched him fall before them, ignoring the cries of the villagers behind them.

“Now, that’s a Cultivator!” Ori’un roared from the ground, seemingly enjoying the whole bloody show. “How do you like it, men of the Order? Where is your mighty eagle’s wings, now?”

You are talking big for someone currently subdued, XJ-V couldn’t help but think.

He held his ground before the last line of Paladins, each one’s blade straight and still in their grip. Their faces were streaked with perspiration. Their hands - shakey with the emotion they thought they had suppressed long ago.

But these were not men of the Dao, XJ-V remembered as he lowered his Prancing Crane stance and met each of their eyes individually. These were just misguided boys.

So, amidst the wreckage of the windswept village littered with their groaning, wounded comrades, XJ-V shouted to the last of the Order’s men.

“You are not dull stones, are you?” he asked them. “You are men who have never had a choice in your lives. You have watched villages burn just like this one. You have watched your villages burn in the name of something you did not understand. Now, I am giving you the choice. Remain and fall with your brothers, or leave and live. Live your lives free of the Order. Let your Master answer for you.”

The Cog didn’t know what he was expecting. To see the boys falter? To watch them throw down their weapons and relinquish their blades, then and there? To break down in tears and cry out for forgiveness?

Whatever he wished to see, reality, as usual, had something else in store.

This time, it was the image of the Xu’Jan that remained raising their vicious swords as one, and twisting them as the barrage of rain above danced along their blades.

XJ-V’s realization that the men were about to charge was accompanied by the mirthless chuckle that came from their pale leader’s black throat.

“Compassion,” he said. “It is a weakness displayed by many humans in a world wreathed in darkness. It seems even a man of steel and stone like you has learned nothing but how to emulate the weaknesses of your Masters. Still, even with the death of that old bastard Qing, you are nothing more than a slave. Yet you have the gall to speak to us of freedom?”

XJ-V narrowed his eyes at the ghostly apparition standing behind the wall of blades that was his men. The Cog, for the first time in a while, felt a hatred grab his heart that he could not even say truly belonged to him.

His eyes found Ori’un sitting beside the group, the captive villagers huddled together behind his great back. Now, he was silent. Now, he was watching.

And then he gave the Cog a soundless nod.

“These men made their choice a long time ago,” the pale-faced leader of the wolfpack growled.

“They made the only choice worth making in this dull, dead world. They chose to follow the light of the true Lord of humankind. They chose to believe in the words of His greatest prophet – his High Eagle soaring above the burning lands of his enemies. And now, they shall choose to do what must be done.”

The warriors of the Order hunched their shoulders, their final battle cry punctuated by a strike of lightning above that showed XJ-V all their youthful faces.

And the Cog bowed his head for only a second before his hands worked of their own accord.

“So shall I,” he said.

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