“Let the clarions of Aun’El ring out for our final contenders! The prize: the glory of joining the illustrious order of Planeswalkers! The combatants: Mah-Jung and XJ-V of the Eternal Dragon!”
Ori’un’s call reverberated through the crowd like a divine wind, sweeping them off their feet and forcing them into premature cheers and applause. Looking up into the rafters, XJ-V saw his friends waving to him, along with Arha and even the Gui’po, Gira, nodding to him sagely as he took his position on the cusp of the arena pit.
When the gate opened, his eyes met those of his opponent with knowing—for he could almost be certain that the presence he had felt pushing against him in the Dao all this time was that of Mah-Jung’s Dao-consciousness. And if that was the case, then the Rank 9 Temperer was far more dangerous than any Disciple knew.
But in his chest pulsed power that Mah-Jung had touched in the dream-state of the Dao when their incorporeal eyes had met across a field of fog and the shrouds of time. XJ-V had felt his fear when his form recoiled from the light at his core. Mah-Jung had been afraid, and he had known XJ-V had seen him.
If such fear gripped his Brother now, however, it was not noticeable on his face. Jung strode onto their battlefield with the confidence of a warrior who was ready to die. The grizzled look he flashed at his opponent told him as much: “If you wish to win, it will cost you. Because I am prepared to meet my end this day.”
And as XJ-V stepped out to meet his Brother, bowing in accordance with the tournament rules, one question ensnared his thoughts like a serpent: Why?
The dark, brooding eyes of Mah-Jung provided no answer.
“For the final match,” Ori’un then announced, “the arena’s makeup shall be of a special kind. Though not for us, honored Disciples. We shall see naught but the sands beneath the combatants' feet. But for them… there will be a whole world known only to their hearts. Core Regulators? Make ready to descend!”
XJ-V and Mah-Jung both looked with surprise at the words of the Planeswalker, watching as the top Regulators descended like angels from the roof and began the strange weaving of their hands that summoned up creations beyond the physical.
“Don’t get distracted, XJ!” the Cog then heard from the rafters to his right, seeing Fai-Deng shouting at him as he watched the Regulators unfold whatever mystery they had in store. “Stay focused on the reality of your opponent, not what you see around him!”
The reality of my opponent, XJ-V mused. What does he mea—
“Come on, XJ, you’re our guy! The Cog whose stars shine in our sky!”
Arha was rhyming from atop Feng-Lung’s shoulders right next to the Tiger brothers, and XJ-V flashed a smile their way—a smile that faded as soon as he turned his attention back to the changing landscape before him.
First, he felt the searing heat of flames that did not come from any natural source. Then, he heard the screams—the screams of villagers he knew, people he’d sworn to protect, and people he’d let down when the time came. He saw the crushed roofs of the houses and felt the pain and anguish of the people as they burned within their homes—those who hadn’t even had time to prepare for the attack.
And there he was, standing there dumbstruck, looking through the flames at Mah-Jung’s equally shaking body.
He was back in Hensha. He was back… where his journey began.
At first, he said nothing, merely wobbled from side to side like a statue ready to crumble and fall. Then, he thought about running. In the back of his mind—the logic matrix that governed his physical being told him that what he saw was not true, could not be true.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
But yet another part of him lurched with a renewed sense of pain. He was being made to look at the dying and the dead that littered the streets. Even the sky had changed to a blackened canvas of emptiness, with caustic smoke fumes being funneled into the once-clear air.
No more could he hear his friends, if they tried to call to him at all. Now, he was completely subsumed in the illusory world that was born not from his dreams, but from his nightmares. It was as though the Regulators had plucked the strings of his metal heart and found the place that conjured the most pain for him.
So he staggered, and he shook, confused and alone—a perfect replica of his cowardice.
So this is your greatest test, Ori’un… his consciousness managed to mumble. You are more of a sadist than I gave you credit for… You want me to show you that I can overcome my past trauma—that I have grown since the time of my creation.
At least, that was the only way he could rationalize this madness.
For his part, Mah-Jung seemed similarly struck, but clearly not by the sights of burning Hensha. His Brother’s eyes wavered and watered—XJ-V could swear that he saw the warrior’s knees begin to buckle, so consumed was he by a spirit of fear. He had never seen Brother Jung exhibit the emotion. He had never even known him capable of such.
Then, all at once, the dark eyes of his Brother closed over, and he shook his head.
“So this is the cruel test of a Cultivator's true strength,” he said. “What do you think, XJ-V? Do you look upon the sight you see before you here and feel pride for the Order you chose to cling to?”
“It is the Order we both chose, Brother Jung,” XJ-V replied shakily but confidently, trying to phase out the sounds of burning victims screaming in the nightmare heat all around him. “I am honored to have called you Brother under its walls, even if you feel nothing for me.”
For a moment, the Cog watched Mah-Jung’s face twist into spiteful, bitter rage—not quite the kind of fury that precipitated a hate-fueled attack, but more the kind of full, deep spite that bordered on envy.
“A Cog speaks to a human of feelings,” he said, re-assuming his perfect Gong’bu and channeling his Qi through deep, sustained breaths. “While we are together alone in this realm of illusion, I must ask you: have you enjoyed pretending to be one of us? Has it given you pleasure to siphon away the dreams of your Brothers, all to claim your own ambitions?”
The fires of the High Eagle’s assault licked at Hensha’s houses and brought them down one by one. As they collapsed, the dust kicked up by their residue spread throughout the ashen battlefield, and Mah-Jung seemed only more energized.
“It is my victory that has been seen in the Dao, Mah-Jung,” XJ-V replied as he assumed a confident Siulubu, neon eyes burning with power, trying to cut through the horror they beheld. “I have seen it since before the Planeswalker first came to live among us. My Brothers have seen it and acknowledged me as the one chosen by the heavens. And you have seen it, Mah-Jung. This, I know, though you have denied the sight with all of your being.”
The eyes of the great Temperer narrowed, his face framed by the flaring fumes of the smoking village.
“My question to you is: why do you deny what you know to be true?” XJ-V asked. “When did you allow such spite to take hold of your heart—a heart that I know is good—and a heart that belongs to a man who is proud to stand within the walls of Ramor-Tai?”
Mah-Jung’s fists clenched with greater intensity. Already, XJ-V could feel the power surging behind them. He was readying Aun’El’s Rebuke—and without his focus engaged on keeping the Dao closed to the Disciples outside, he was free to focus all his energy into the attack this time.
“A being like you,” he told the Cog, “will never understand.”
He will throw everything he has at me, XJ-V observed. Whatever is burning in his chest right now is stronger than the spirit of any Temperer I have ever met. There is a will there to end me, and a justification for doing so… if only I knew what that was.
Then the realization struck the machine-man:
Was this what you wished for all this time? A chance to end me? For who? For yourself—as a means to snuff out the flame of some old, buried resentment against my kind? Or for someone else…
But the Cog shook such thoughts from his mind as soon as they formed. Mah-Jung was not the only one with a powerful will within his chest.
“So be it, Brother,” XJ-V then replied—the screams of the dying becoming a clarion call for him to rise up and do battle against the threat he saw.
This time, he would not run.
“Let us end this tournament.”
***
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