The magnanimous master Jorin Karr, has, in his infinite wisdom, decided to distribute weapons to children.
“The spear is a peasants weapon,” his voice travels across the field, “easily made and easily spread. It is the most common weapon you’ll find in mortal hands, and that is for good reason. It is effective, few are the mortals that could survive being run through. It is also, conveniently, the easiest weapon to teach. Stab, slash, block. That will be your routine for the next month, I will drill spearmanship into your very souls before you can even think of moving on to another weapon. Now, spread and scatter, I do not want you to accidentally stab each other.”
The children, vibrating with excitement, do as he says as Tantra reluctantly finds a place where she can swing around her death stick without hurting anyone. Master Jorin settles into a stance, left leg forward, right leg back, like how one might stand if they were fist fighting. The difference being in the weapon settled into both hands that he steadily points forward, providing a barrier of guaranteed injury to anyone who dares enter.
“First, the stab,” He says, shifting his legs slightly as he rotates his hips and extends his reach as he pushes the spear forward, “A simple motion, keep your footing firm, and put your body into the blow like you might a punch. With your off-hand you will aim, and with your main hand you will thrust. Now, demonstrate.”
Tantra takes a deep breath as she shifts her muscles to mimic the master, putting all her weight on her front leg as she pushes with her back leg. She points the spear ahead and thrusts, a quick and powerful motion, even for her. Most of the others forgot the master's words and simply pushed the spear forward, Jorin noted those who performed properly in his mind.
“Now, the slash” He brings the spear up slightly, then pushes it down as he pushes forward, the spear cuts through the air smoothly as master Jorin resets and does the same for the horizontal and diagonal. “There is no need for dramatics. The slash isn’t something you’ll use often with the spear, unless it becomes your weapon of choice, but always remember to keep your weapon pointed at the enemy. Wind-ups only serve to make you look foolish. Demonstrate.”
Tantra brings up her spear, pushes slightly forward, then cuts down, copying the master's motions. She does the same for the horizontal and diagonal.
“Finally the block,” the master goes through a confusing series of forms all unique from one another and focused on a different part of his body, “defence is always the most difficult to teach, because it is dependent on your opponent's offence. For now I will teach you the basic block that you will practice daily, the overhand block. Watch.”
-
If pulling on the Qi of the air is like breathing in mist, then pulling from a Qi stone is drinking from the ocean. There is so much condensed energy in the pale glowing rock the size of her palm. It only takes half an hour of meditation to gather enough Qi to make her core full. She could just disperse her Qi after training and be done with it, sure it’s massively inefficient, but it works, and it’s what she assumes the rest of her peers have been doing. She…technically doesn’t need to do her control exercises anymore, at least not until the stone runs out of Qi, and by then she should already have another. But something feels wrong about that, this was a gift, and while she finds the concepts of gifts nebulous at best, the librarian doesn’t really have anything to gain by currying her favor. Would it be right to simply ignore such an opportunity? The book surely came from the upper floors, the ones that require a proper foundation to even survive, and white she hasn’t gotten very far in the first exercise, it has been helping in her circulation. But she can’t spend half her days circulating just for the sake of it.
She decides to compromise. She will disperse her Qi after training, as inefficient as that is, then she will dedicate herself to control training for at least three hours in the evening, leaving the day open to forage or train as she pleases. She nods, yes, that is quite the good compromise.
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“Why are you nodding to yourself?”
Tantra screeches as she jumps off her bed and assumes a fighting position, only to find Sola sitting innocently with a slight smile.
“So you’ve moved on to fight, eh?” She says with a chuckle.
Tantra grumbles, “I thought we were done with this, you haven’t pulled your appearing act for the whole month!”
“What? No, ‘honourable senior’? What happened to my sweet little Tantan?”
“She died of a heart attack, and don’t call me Tantan” Tantra retorts.
“Ranya calls you Tantan.” Sola points out.
“Ranya is a child. Convincing her to use my proper name would prove a greater challenge than moving a Terradorak.”
“Some cultivators can do that.”
Tantra snorts, “only in stories I’ve met an immortal, and while they are horrifying, they aren’t that strong.”
Sola perks up, “You’ve met an immortal?!? Oh you have to tell me this story sweet sister, or I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days.”
Tantra grumbles but acquiesce
-
Tantra has indeed met an immortal, once. About a third of her life ago when she was just eight years old. She hesitates to refer to what she saw as a person, it looked like a person, talked like a person, even walked like a person.
But it couldn’t have been.
Standing next to her father was a thing radiating mist, with pupils of pure white that pierced through her soul. Its skin was porcelain, like a well crafted sculpture . It wore robes of blue with a yellow trim.
“Daughter!” Said her father, all jubilation and no fear, “come child. Come greet the venerated Rokun Daza! He has come a long way from the barbarian lands to grace us with his presence.”
The sound of wind chimes echoes through the hall as the thing lets out a soft chuckle.
“Now, now Tokar, no need to overwhelm the child. So you are Tantra? Your father has certainly sung your praises. So much so that it has left me intrigued. I would speak with you, if it wouldn’t be any trouble.”
Tantra’s throat was too dry to answer, and that’s assuming she could have mustered the courage to do so in the first place. She had never felt death before, never felt suffering. Not as a tangible force at least, but this thing wore both as a cloak. It was too intense, so much so that even her mammalian instincts couldn’t come up with anything to do but freeze and hope that whatever was in front of her wouldn’t be her end.
Her fathers smile had grown a little brittle at the awkward silence that ensued, “Tantra,” he had said, “do not be rude to our venerated guest, come and give your greetings.”
There was a hint of paternal warning there.
She didn’t move an inch.
The thing rubbed at it’s chin as it stared into everything that she is and will be, “are you afraid child?”
Tantra barely mustered the strength to nod.
It raised a brow and then it was in front of her. Not like teleportation, or anything so simple. In one moment it was next to her father, in the next it was in front of her, as though it were always there. As though reality bent to recognize its desire, and did so without complaint.
Tantra almost fell on her ass, the only thing stopping her from doing so being how tense every muscle was in that moment. It took her a moment to realize she was shaking.
“Interesting,” said the wind chimes, “you can see it can’t you?”
Tantra shakes her head.
It tilts its head, “you can feel it?”
She nods.
The thing taps at its chin, “that should not be possible,” it muses.
Then It gives a light tap to her head with a finger.
The next thing she remembered, she was laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
-
“Oook, all I got from that is that it’s badass. How does that prove your earlier point?” Sola queries
Tantra harrumphs, “it was too skinny.”
Sola blinks at her, “Tantra, you realize that muscle mass doesn’t matter right?”
“It’s an image problem.” Tantra retorts, “how can someone skinny as a stick manage to carry anything?”
“He knocked you out with a touch.”
“That was just his Qi.”
Sola tilts her head, “are you just arguing for the sake of arguing?”