“Hello, my friends,” Silvanio said, his gaze moving from Alistair to Ko Pao and the others. Chills went down Alistair’s spine as his nearly black eyes washed over him. Silvanio’s presence felt more like a Dark Lord than an eight-time martial arts champion. “Master Ko Pao, it is good to see you again. Has it been seven months since our last encounter when my daughter Elerie soundly defeated your prized disciple?”
Silvanio’s voice was quiet and soft, with a touch of raspiness like he was whispering at full volume. However, Alistair couldn’t mistake those eyes. They were that of a predator looking at its prey.
“An excellent bout, if I say so myself, Governor Silvanio.” Ko Pao responded without skipping a beat. “Wouldn’t a rematch be proper?”
“In good time, in good time, my elder friend. Next year’s tournament seems like the perfect venue, would you not agree?”
“That would be wonderful,” Ko Pao said.
“And what have you for me today? An outsider who wants a bout with one of my fighters? What is his request?” Silvanio once again stared at Alistair with that unnerving gaze of his.
“To leave, along with his friend,” Ko Pao said. “That is all.”
“There is a reason that none are allowed to leave the Holy Ravine until we can understand the situation better. Outsiders are dangerous. That reptilian monstrosity could have killed everyone in the Holy Ravine. This is a tall ask, outsider.”
“If outsiders are so dangerous, then isn’t that all the more reason to have them leave?”
“The outsiders are dangerous on the outside,” Silvanio replied. “Here, they are powerless.”
Left unsaid was the eventual implication to that train of logic. If the outsiders got their powers on the outside, and therefore couldn’t leave, then what would happen to him and Oliver?
“We have a difference of opinion on the matter. I ask with the traditions of this place in mind, Silvanio. He may make a request of you as is within his guest right. Considering you were capable of letting the beast leave, it is not unreasonable, even if it is not to your liking. As an outsider with little training in the arts, he should face your weakest champion.”
“I have no weak champions,” Silvanio retorted with some bite.
“Which is why I did not say ‘weak.’”
“That is true, that is true. Very well then. I do not wish to make things more impossible than they already are. He will face Brutus Caligoris in single combat for his request. In the meantime, shall I get to know this intrepid outsider? Please, come in to my humble abode.”
Silvanio bowed and opened his arms wide to indicate they should come in. Behind him, the massive doors creaked open, sounding like they weighed thousands of kilograms.
Alistair looked to Ko Pao, who smiled at Silvanio with a warmth that only a wizened old man could muster. “We would be delighted to.”
----------------------------------------
The inside of the church was just as magnificent as the outside. They walked through a massive hallway decorated with huge tapestries that depicted scenes of combat. If the paintings were to be believed, from time immemorial, members of the Church of the Holy Ones had been draped in the finest silk and fought always giant men outnumbered by impossible odds.
Alistair found their whole abode distastefully overdone. What happened to the principles of humility for martial artists? It felt wrong that these theatrical braggarts were the strongest in the Holy Ravine.
Silvanio himself led them through the temple, showing off their various facilities. They had hot springs, cold baths, and fine eating shops inside of the building. It was practically a five-star hotel!
There were starry-skied acolytes rushing everywhere he looked. There were far more members of the Church of the Holy Ones than members of the Silver Comet Sect, especially among the young people. The ratio of those under eighteen to those over for the Holy Ones was almost one-to-two, whereas it might have been one to four for Alistair’s sect of choice. A displeasing fact for Ko Pao, no doubt, and one central reason he opposed the rule of Silvanio so doggedly.
I must remember, the Silver Comet Sect are not being entirely altruistic, Alistair thought. I break bread with them and they are nice to me, well, as nice as a society of battle-trained martial artists can be, but in the end, they have their own goals. I would hazard a guess that the favor they want from me is to wallop the Church of the Holy Ones once I regain my full power.
Silvanio’s eye remained on Alistair for almost the entire tour. He spoke so passionately about the glory of the Holy Ones and their advantages over the other six sects in the Holy Ravine, that it almost—wait, Alistair thought. Is he trying to recruit me?
Alistair shook his head. How bold. Alistair needed every ounce of power that he could get, but he was no traitor. The Silver Comet Sect had taken him in and assisted him. Plus, why did he get the feeling he was better suited for their style than the Holy Ones?
That thought lasted as long as the moment they entered the training hall.
Scratch that, the Holy One style suits me way better.
Like their robes, the walls and ceiling of the training hall were of the night sky peppered with stars. Their hall was at least three times as large as the one back in the Silver Comet temple, if not more. A hundred disciples used dummies, weights, and sparred against each other. Despite being behind enemy lines, Alistair felt a certain sense of camaraderie.
And their style—it was enthralling. Alistair used Zenaitsu Morogoni’s style, possibly named Psychopomp’s Discipline, though he couldn’t be sure if that was the real name or a creation of the Pathfinder AI. It was an all-out attacking style focused on killing the opponent as quickly as possible, through fluid, adaptable movements.
Fluid, then still. Soft, then hard. The Kiss of Death. That was its motto. There were many arcing movements and feints and trickery involved. Of course, Alistair’s personal tastes added a certain twist. He guessed the original style focused more heavily on striking, but somehow he had altered it over time to have more throws and grappling. Thankfully, the Dao of the Fist did not literally only apply to moves with fists or striking in general.
As a result, Alistair’s default state was to not like getting hit. At all. The Steel Body violated all of his instincts. The Holy Ones, on the other hand, seemed all about dodging. They moved like the wind, always evading their opponents by a whisker. On top of that, unlike the straightforward and strong, honest moves of the Silver Comet, they were tricky and guile.
They moved with such grace. It was a lie to say he wasn’t tempted by it. But who cared? It was good to be balanced. It wasn’t a bad thing to get accustomed to other styles.
Silvanio’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “There is my wonderful daughter. Elerie! Come here.”
Alistair’s breath was taken away as he saw Elerie Apostolos, the strongest champion of the Church of the Holy Ones and the daughter of Silvanio. She was beautiful. Tall and confident, she moved with preternatural grace. Every step was perfectly executed, every breath perfectly balanced. She wore a starry cloak like her father except hers had the sleeves cut off, revealing well-muscled arms with white bands around the bicep.
She had black hair and pale skin like her father. However, instead of his pure black irises, she had red eyes, making her look positively vampiric. Alistair doubted she actually had Shaded One ancestry like Caren, though.
Elerie bowed respectfully to Ko Pao and Pike, with a shallower bow to the latter. “Welcome Master Ko Pao, Brother Pike. Who is this newcomer I see?”
Ko Pao answered. “This is Alistair Tan, my newest apostle. He comes from the outside and will challenge Brutus for permission to leave.”
“A difficult bout,” Elerie said. “It is almost impossible. Brutus would be a challenge for even Pike.”
“Hardly,” Pike shot back.
“In my bouts against him and you, I felt equal challenge, that is to say, very little.”
“Children, children, this will all be settled in good time,” Silvanio said. “Ko Pao, I presume Pike will be your first seed in the tournament?”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Indeed,” the old man said.
“Elerie shall be mine. May they meet in the finals.”
“That would be most auspicious.”
“Though,” Silvanio said, appearing to look troubled for a moment. “I don’t see why they can’t have a rematch now? For training purposes.”
“I would love that, father,” Elerie said with a wide smile.
“I too, would not deny such an opportunity,” said Pike.
The only one who didn’t seem happy about the idea was Master Ko Pao. “This is neither the time nor the place. You know this, Silvanio—it is not within our customs.”
“I have less knowledge of the customs than the esteemed Master Ko Pao, eldest of the seven sects. Very well then. However, I must entreat you to stay for a while. Alistair, I would like to be regaled with tales of the outside, if you may.”
Alistair looked to Master Ko Pao who had a solemn look on his lined face. Yeah, there’s no way getting out of this one. He’s the ruler of the Holy Ravine, after all.
“Of course, Governor Silvanio. I would love to.”
----------------------------------------
Silvanio brought them to a cozy underground grotto, lit by torches on all sides. It was hot down there, hotter than the cool autumn temperatures outside, but still at a comfortable level.
There was an entire restaurant carved into the cave, which had murals engraved on the walls of some kind of Titanomachy, Alistair supposed. Deified figures, including a goddess of war that Alistair assumed was the Mother, fought against a legion of burning demons. The carving was ornate and detailed, a masterwork.
The tables were carved out of the rock itself, and Silvanio seated them. Ko Pao, Pike, Davnos, Alistair, Ko Min, Elerie, and Silvanio. At one table.
Alistair thought it was the most awkward thing he had ever been a part of.
Ko Min was a quiet, mousy girl, around the same age as Oliver. She was extremely shy, though she liked to help out the apostles of the sect. She had little experience with martial arts—only what her grandfather had taught her.
Useless as an ally for mealtime conversation. What about Pike?
Pike was carving into his meat like a caveman. Not him then. What about—
Silvanio interrupted his thoughts. “Alistair, I have heard tall tales about the outside. Is it true there are creatures known as ‘Devil Kings?’ I have heard they are fiendish beasts without reason that can conjure fire strong enough to burn down the entire Holy Ravine in a single second.”
Alistair put down his fork. “One of them maybe, but he’s dead. I doubt the other one is strong enough.”
Silvanio looked at him with empty eyes. Alistair coughed. “Oh, sorry, forgot you don’t know anything about them. Well, they look human, except for their eyes and these weird markings that go down their heads and backs. They are human, they just have demon blood inside of them that makes them stronger.”
“Demon blood,” Silvanio said. “It is difficult to believe unless you’ve seen it within your own eyes. Men and women capable of flying and destroying cities with a thought. I would hardly believe it myself if not for over a dozen witnesses to the changes. And that powerful reptile, Vritra. Even as a master unrivaled in the Holy Ravine, I though that I would not try my luck against him. But you are not as powerful as him? Why is that?”
Alistair chose to answer truthfully. “As a beast, more of his power is innate to his body and cannot be negated by the suppression field in the valley. Perhaps you saw him at ten percent strength. For a human like me, it takes almost everything away. Of course, even with my full strength, I would be nothing compared to Vritra. He is one of the most powerful forces in the outside world, outstripped by less than ten people, by my estimation.”
He couldn’t forget that he was pulling the wool over Silvanio’s eyes. If he revealed his actual position, there was no telling what the man would do. They had come up with a good persona—a decently powerful martial artist that was nowhere near the heights of his real self or the Devil Kings.
“Ten percent strength and he outmatches all of us? That is a frightening thought. And how exactly did your people acquire these powers?”
He already knows the answer, Alistair thought. He just wants to hear what I’ll say.
Alistair had to play his cards correctly. Dev’rox? I need some of your ancient wisdom.
“You do, finally?” the imp said. “I was waiting when you would wake me from my slumber.”
“How much should I tell him?”
“The safest answer is nothing,” Dev’rox said. “Any information can be used against you by an opponent crafty enough.”
“How crafty do you think Silvanio is?”
“Crafty enough. He is a hard man to read.”
“Haven’t you been among humans for tens of thousands of years?”
“Bah.”
“Maybe. I think I have an idea. If I give him a little curiosity, I think it will help. What does he want? He is clearly interested in power—in becoming a cultivator. I’m thinking years down the line. Obviously, I want the Silver Comet Sect to win the next championship and become the ruler. I believe that Pike can do it. But what if Elerie wins? As I understand, as Global Mayor, I would be the planetary lord of Earth. I don’t think these displaced people are going home. That never happened before. So the Holy Ravine is going to become a part of our world, whether we like it or not. They could become valuable allies in the far future, with how solid their foundations are compared to the normal human.”
“It looks like you already made up your mind,” Dev’rox said. “You’ve become better at thinking strategically.”
“I learned from the best.”
“Don’t even try it. I am immune to flattery,” Dev’rox beamed.
Alistair continued his conversation with Silvanio, who Alistair realized at this point was probably wondering why he was silent for so long.
“When Earth was initiated into the Final Frontier Empire, the Pathfinder AI opened up the Dao and gave our bodies the capability to process Mana. Your planet most likely underwent a similar process near the same time.”
“Lisorte?” Silvanio asked, genuinely taken aback for the first time. “What makes you say that?”
“I saw Grandmaster Red Harmonia,” Alistair said, using his proper title to show respect. “He wasn’t on your planet. He was strong, probably the strongest person I’ve seen that was recently initiated. I think the fact that you already have had some Dao energy on your world before makes you stronger starting out. And now I find out that he was already the Grand Champion of the Martial League or whatever. That puts his strength into perspective.”
Silvanio went completely silent for ten seconds, making Alistair grow nervous. What if he had said the wrong thing? Was Silvanio about to go crazy and kill him for mentioning Red? Maybe they had past history and Red humiliated him and he would go insane at the mere mention—
“Most interesting,” Silvanio finally said, relaxing in his chair. “I had wondered what was going on with Lisorte while we were transported here. Thank you for telling me this, Alistair.”
“I just thought you should know.”
“I am unaware of how much Master Ko Pao informed you about Grandmaster Red,” Silvanio started. “But he is no ordinary man. I had good fortune of meeting him one time. All the greatest masters in the Martial League were called to the capital in response to wanton aggression from one of our human neighbors. They thought themselves sly as the majority of our forces dealt with a particularly large incursion from the Wasted Realm.
“Red Harmonia is a step above every human I have ever seen in the fist. The moves of a master are incomprehensible to the amateur, yet we are amateurs before his divine understanding. If he has undergone this process you speak of, then it is no wonder he is invincible.”
Invincible? Alistair didn’t know about that. It was a wide world out there, after all. Red couldn’t be that impressive in the grand scheme of the multiverse. But he supposed that on the frontier, he might be invincible for his level, except for the young elites of the Final Frontier Empire.
He pushed his charisma to the maximum. “Is this process really necessary? What are you gaining by forcing me into this duel? If there’s a way for Vritra to leave, then surely it’s possible?”
Silvanio’s black eyes gave away no information. His dead expression was the same as always. If he was offended by Alistair’s impertinence, he didn’t let it reach his expression.
“It cannot be done. There are larger things at work than you realize. But fear not, I shall abide by my word. If you win your battle, you are free to go.”
Alistair didn’t understand Silvanio’s logic. It seemed completely off. Yes, there was some risk to letting him go. But wasn’t there an even greater risk to pissing him off and then letting him go if he won? If he wasn’t as nice as he was, he could go back and raze the Holy Ravine or even more specifically the Church of the Holy Ones for dare defying him. It all smelled off to Alistair. Did he really have that much faith in his champion?
A lumpy presence along his thigh made itself known as he adjusted his seating. Dragonus’s gourd, Heavenly Nectar Incense. Which now contained the concentrated power of a raging, Journeyman quality Mana Storm, inside a hermetically sealed hunk of golden metal that felt inviolable.
There was no doubt in Alistair’s mind that the hybrid concoction of congealed Dao energy, natural Mana, and mysterious incense was still fecund inside of the gourd. Whatever the Devonic Elision Field was doing, it couldn’t penetrate through the gourd’s protective walls.
However, he was unsure of what would happen if he unleashed it. It was entirely possible, and more probable than not in his opinion, that the dampening would immediately affect the contents, effectively putting his hard-earned lightning to waste.
No, it was better to keep that in reserve. He had captured the lightning knowing of his future battle against George Moulin. He would withhold for using its power for now. If he needed to escape as a last resort, he could try it.
The second object he had in there also made him squirm. The black marble with a thunderstorm inside of it. Given to him by Nenna Spindoller, an agent of a mysterious organization called the Cabal. It could never be lost and always returned to him no matter what. Like the gourd, it couldn’t go inside of his soulcore. Would the Cabal beam down from their far-off bases and come and rescue him?
No, that was far too good to be true. In a multiverse where struggle led to power, he couldn’t imagine they would or even could intervene in such a circumstance.
“I understand your position. This Brutus Caligoris, may I meet him?”
Silvanio shook his head. “It is customary for the duelists to have no contact until the moment of their bout. But besides, he is taken with other matters away from the sect.”
“I can tell you all you need to know about Brutus,” Elerie said, to what Alistair thought might have been the chagrin of her father. “Mad Brutus the Biter, he is called. He only joined the Holy Ones six years ago. While his technique is yet unrefined, his ferocity is second-to-none.”
Silvanio gave his daughter a stern look. “Thank you, my daughter. Ko Pao, how does two months’ time sound?”
“It is acceptable,” Ko Pao replied. “Under the standard conditions?”
“Let us have the match cloistered,” Silvanio said. “Out of respect for the delicate circumstances.”
“It is acceptable.”
Alistair felt like he missed something in their interaction, but he didn’t concern himself too much. He had his mission before him. Defeat Brutus Caligoris, and get the hell out of the Holy Ravine. And if plan A failed, he still had his gourd as a last resort. Then there was his last, last resort, which was begging the Pathfinder AI to be let out.
A genial voice interrupted their table talk. “Esteemed masters, guests.”
Alistair looked up to see a robed, kindly looking man. He was older, with crow’s feet and smile lines. “Shall I introduce you to the main course for our meal?”
Ko Pao clapped joyfully. “I am ravished. Governor Silvanio, what say you?”
Silvanio nodded to the waiter. “A feast fit for a king, Gorion. Nothing less for the eldest master of the Holy Ravine and his disciples.”