The plan remains the same. Dear diary, I refused to falter even as a bat with wings that stretched to the edges of the horizon whose wingbeats caused 100ft waves to swallow a nearby Spanish galleon. Through the cracks of lightning, I saw men sink beneath the waves; I felt something happened I hadn’t expected. Bits of spiritual matter rose, repeating itself as it invaded the bodies of sea life. Gukumatz, the name, repeated itself within the motes of light as if they possessed sharks. The terror that filled the waters turned into despair beneath the waves. Sharks picked apart the struggling survivors of the capsized Galleon.
My understanding of the situation only deepened my frustration. The realm of Chi Gathering, a power potentially turning the tide, was still a distant dream. My journey into body tempering had barely begun. Yet, I stood with my thumb up my bum on the bowsprit, the waves crashing against the ship’s beak before me. The men, their lives hanging in the balance, desperately needed aid. I yearned to do something, anything, to alleviate their suffering.
There was nothing to be done. Men died, and I shivered before the great spirits of the Yucatan. Below deck, I could hear Fray Juarez preach a sermon. Terror-soaked faith rose from the ship and dissipated into the Ayther. They were pouring out concentrated emotional food for the spiritual beings that lived everywhere but were not drawn. Two Apex predators were feasting on the Spaniards.
Warm sea spray blasted my body as rain pelted me from all sides. The boots on my feet kept my chi from being sensed even by those apex predators, or so I believed. My chi wasn’t stronger than the other two predators'. It could be like the parasites; I wasn’t worth hunting.
Mortals dealt with mortals, and cultivators dealt with cultivators. Only demon sects on the path of destruction killed mortals so brazenly. Disguising myself as another Spaniard only gave me so much protection.
Well, there was one thing I could do. I took the main staircase on the upper deck to the hold and found the six resting while the ship teetered on the edge of sinking.
“There wasn’t much I could do above. How are you?” I asked.
They looked at me nervously. “You can use my body like before,” Venus said.
Her words sounded a lot like progress. I smiled at her, which is something I didn’t do often. Smiling in a sect was done only privately. Stoicism, while not a philosophy directly taught, was deeply rooted in the culture. I noticed that there was not so much of it in other sects. The cultivation of controlled emotions and virtue was essential to rounding out a superhuman being. I smiled gently at her and held out my hand.
“We want to come with you as well. Even if we can’t help, we can cheer you on.” I nodded my assent, and Venus took my hand. Despite her constant work, she had soft hands.
My smile vanished when I saw the stares from the other women and the grumpy-looking minder with a toothpick in his mouth.
“Senor, you came from above what is happening.”
“The storm won’t last forever. We’ll arrive at the Yucatan either tomorrow morning or evening. The coast is nearly in sight.” I said.
I watched the man relax. “God bless you, senor.” The man said.
I closed the door. Venus lay in my hands, one on her hip and the other on her ribs. My arms pumped, but she barely felt like anything. I placed her back on the ground and rolled over on my stomach.
“You two grab that leather sack of wet sand. Then, two of you sit on my back.” I said.
The weight helped with my conscience. After one pushed the back in my direction, I tossed it over my back and felt the weight settle down. When the two girls sat atop the sandbag, I felt a pleasing twinge in my muscles.
What I did was hardly work out. No, I was destroying and rebuilding my muscles, almost replacing them. The blood I bled from the rats had already been regenerated with chi within my new blood cells. Every time I damaged myself somehow and healed, the new cells would contain some chi.
If I hadn’t cared about advancing more than human life, I could have found a technique to damage spirits. That was possible, but my advancement would stall out in the chi-gathering realm. I didn’t know what I wanted, and that hadn’t changed.
The people who died were made to suffer to empower the spirits more. The spirits fed on emotions to sustain themselves. I suspected any benefits they gave only happened when they received more in return. The conquistadors were investors, but so too were the spirits.
So, how did Christianity spread in a world like this one? Was I in my old world or one from a similar timeline? Was there something to the supernatural that I never saw or misunderstood?
I didn’t want to enter world lines as a body-tempering cultivator.
My muscles strained, and I had no idea how many reps I could do. The burning in my arms was becoming a problem, but I didn’t care. I needed to get some of my rage out.
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“Will you tell us what’s going on?”
“A Yucatec deity just slew the two spirits protecting this ship. The other Yucatec diety slaughtered the men in the water. For whatever reason, we are allowed to reach land unlike them.”
“You can see the gods.”
“If that is what you want to call them.”
The six stared at one another. “What is to become of us when we reach land?”
“You are my property. Where I go, you will as well. I doubt the ships will last long in any case.”
They looked pensive.
“What work will you have us do? Mostly, I want you to sway your hips, look at me suggestively, and say I’ll have to wait until chi gathering.” I said.
They looked as confused as ever. “Is this another Sapnaird ritual?”
“Yes, it’s the most important one before having sex. Anticipation is important. When I reach a new level of power, I fully plan to take all of your virginities.”
I needed to find a source of lube. My eyes met the girls, and they looked away.
One of the girls squatted in front of me, raised her skirt enough for me to see her legs, and looked me in the eyes. “Not until chi gathering,” Diana said.
That was precisely what I asked for, and it made me want to kiss her. I wasn’t sure if that would be a reward or a punishment. That was one of the problems with owning them. I wouldn’t know if they were playing along to turn on me or taking this opportunity for all it was worth.
With a shift, I moved one hand behind my back and began doing one-armed pushups. The extra weight helped, and I significantly increased my training. I wasn’t quite breaking my limits, but it was close.
My first lock required chi to break through. Unfortunately, I couldn’t control my chi until I reached the peak of body tempering or entered the chi-gathering realm. So, how was I going to do it?
I swapped my arms and took a long drink from my wooden cup. I was dealing with spirits that seemed to replicate themselves in chi. The very power I hoped to manipulate was what they fed upon naturally. Even when I controlled it again, I needed to find a way to resist their innate abilities. Sealing worked, but for how long?
At the moment, the spirits were powerful but unsophisticated. We were in a wild part of the world, and expecting them to remain simple as humanity evolved was foolish. How would they change during the Industrial Revolution and the information age, and what about space travel? Developing a counter was one of my terminal goals.
When I hit chi gathering, I would absorb chi through the air. They would infuse my body with their chi and take over my foundation. I couldn’t allow it to happen.
“So what are you going to do when we get pregnant?” Venus asked.
I nearly slipped but managed to keep it balanced.
That happened among mortals and cultivators. Often, the children were placed in educational institutions that taught them the basics of cultivation until they were ready to join the sect in full. That wasn’t an option, and there were no such institutions here. Since we were practically starting from scratch, my answer was simple.
“We would raise them,” I said.
I would need to teach them body tempering, and I hope everything went smoothly. Being outnumbered wasn’t an issue. Competition between cultivators happened over scarce resources and no outside threats. Neither was a problem for the foreseeable future. After all, we were in a nightmare scenario.
…
I bit through a chicken leg and ground the popping bones with my teeth. Calcium was needed in large amounts. Soon enough, I would have to break and heal bones one after the other. It was that or flayed my skin a little at a time until it was all replaced. Either way, the process would be painful.
Land was in sight, and I needed an edge. So, I took hold of a hammer and broke one of my fingers. I bit my tongue to stop myself from screaming. This made cultivators who did this to themselves so much stronger than the ones who had this done to them.
A short 12 hours later, I was ready for the next finger.
…
The shore was in sight, and coconut trees lined it. I went in with one of the first boats and stepped foot on solid land for the first time in weeks. The feeling was sweet. I scaled one of the trees and pulled free a coconut before cracking it open by squeezing it hard.
I scraped the flesh out with my nails and enjoyed the sweet taste.
“Soldier, climb up that tree and get another one down. I want to taste it.” I turned to see Hernan Cortes in the flesh. This was my first time seeing the man covered in parasites like the others, and he wasn’t impressive. The man was 19 or a little older and sported a scraggly beard.
“I tell you what, let me have one sex slave first pick, and I will get you that coconut,” I said.
“From what I heard, you have six already and are far too gentle with them. They are objects to satisfy your needs, not women worth wooing with fair poetry and gifts. You aren’t trying to marry into a wealthy landowner’s family,” Cortes said.
“You may have 300 before the end of the week, Captain, so I don’t want to hear it,” I said.
“Fine, but only because such confidence raises morale. Now I’m thirsty, so get me a coconut.” I scaled the tree and handed the man his prize. He knocked on it and looked confused. “Is it not ripe yet?” I raised a finger, one I broke repeatedly, and punched it through the hull.
“Good man, you must show me how it's done later.” He turned the coconut up, drank heartily, and then threw it on the ground.
…
We waited eight days, scouting out the area, until we were finally told to follow a native to our target. Forests stretched as far as the eye could see over the horizon in various shades of green. We were on our way to rescue a missionary named Aguilar. While the wealthier men were mounted, I had to walk with the rest of the poor. Captain Pedro de Alvarado rode Buttercup through the wild wilderness as we followed a map drawn by the natives. I heard the sound of rushing water before we came upon a stream.
Spirits shaped like beautiful human women lay in wait. They giggled and splashed in the water in preparation for drowning us. They might make the current a little stronger at notice and cause a man to trip and be swallowed under. Creatures like these were called Naiads. They weren’t the only spirits; creatures in the trees were dormant and sleeping.
I checked the blade on my side. A rusty sword scrounged up just for me. A member of the local tribe stepped out from behind a tree and led us to his camp, where Cortes paid the chief lots of glass beads for the underfed, half-naked, and sunburned man. Geronimo de Aguilar spoke with the natives and stumbled with his native tongue from disuse.
“I’m thankful for your help, Cortes. I can return to Panama and continue my work,” Aguilar said.
“Perhaps if you are a powerful swimmer,” Cortes said.
Captain Alvarado spoke up. “We need a translator, and we spent many of our valuable beads on you. Others traded them for gold from the natives, but we traded many for just you.”
“I understand. I would be happy to help in any way I can. These people are horrible, and you can’t leave me here. They sodomize themselves by pouring what they call Blanche into themselves. Then they go wild and dance around fires and act like demons. Many men take women and sometimes other men behind like animals. It's terrible here.”
It sounded like one of the more laid-back parties I attended at the Thunder Eagle sect. Cultivators who reach a roadblock that they can’t overcome dive headfirst into hedonism. Their parties are extravagant, bloody things.
I saw a native with an interesting weapon. It was a club with an obsidian blade embedded in it. While the obsidian wouldn’t do much to steel armor, it was impressive. We left the tribe unmolested; there wasn’t much to gain from wiping them out.
“So you speak the native tongue,” I said.
“I speak Yucatec.” Aguilar said.
“I hope they speak it where we’re going. I would hate to play the translator game.”
“I haven’t heard of such a game. Was it invented recently?”
“There's Nothing like that; it's more of a situation. Let's say I tell you something to translate into Yucatan, and we need someone to translate Yucatan into another language. I think something will get lost in the translation. If we have enough translators, the words translated will mean something completely different,” I said.
“We can only pray to god that our meaning is conveyed clearly,” Aguilar said.
“Those poor unbaptized bastards, we’re going to ask for gold, and they're going to think we want to sodomize ourselves with something the color yellow. I’m sure they’ll wave around the maze, and we won’t know what’s happening.”
“Don’t joke about such a blunder. Cortes will trade me back to avoid the trouble. In all seriousness, we should try to avoid translating something more than three times to be safe,” Aguilar said.
…
Back on the ship, heading for the Aztec empire, I broke my wrist and let it heal before breaking it in a new spot.