Tathāgata's serene countenance did not falter, but Karma saw beyond—peeled back reality's facade and looked unto Truth.
And Truth betrayed Tathāgata, much as it did countless others.
Truth beheld the demon hidden within Buddha's shadow.
I will tear this man apart, Truth raged. Not for others. For me. Not for what he knows—but for daring to know.
"Benefactor," lied Tathāgata.
Scum, spat Truth.
"We've chatted long enough. Let battle's capricious tides consecrate the Dharma's ire."
I tire of this meaningless squabble. I want to see you bleed. I want to see you gone!
The halo about Tathāgata's head blazed sacred gold as a necklace of 108 illusory prayer beads wound his neck.
A peal of thunder joined his palms at his breast.
"Oṃ."
Fwooh-fwooh-fwooh.
Bead after bead vanished amid shrieking gales, whistling toward Karma like a swarm of rancorous wasps.
Incandescent sabers flashed in and out of existence as Karma weathered the barrage. One after the other, buzzing prayer beads were cut down by azure-edged finger flicks, their improbable trajectories unable to escape Karma's absolute foresight.
Dink-dink-dink.
Husks of bisected spheroids fell amid a symphonic din, their executioner a lightning-riddled tempest razing nature's iniquities.
Dink-dink-dink.
Dink-dink.
Dink.
The necklace numbering 108 about Tathāgata's neck became a laurel of carcasses encircling Karma's feet.
Karma loosed a dross laugh, his gaze boring into Tathāgata's widening lids.
Then he was gone.
Swoosh.
Tathāgata's neck careened backward, barely glimpsing Karma's flight-bound figure before a draconic roar ruptured his eardrums. Cataracts dotted his vision as a spire of infernal oblivion rocketed down on him akin to a jetstream of liquid sun.
Belching the last of his flame, Karma arched his brows at the smoggy vista.
Not dead?
When the smoke cleared, Tathāgata's pale—but very much not dead—aspect appeared unharmed. At his rear, the ziggurat had been reduced to a smoldering ruin, hewn to its pith by conical devastation.
I see. He leverages transcendence to tap into the Dharma—the Buddhist branch of natural law—to temporarily warp worldly phenomena.
"Did you enjoy the complimentary hot springs?" Karma guffawed, hovering overhead thanks to the Euclidean Anchor's spatial fixation.
Unless I can destroy the Dharma, it'll be nigh-impossible to land a direct hit.
"I was mainly joking before, but seriously, does the Dharma dislike you or something?"
However, external forces are, in the end, external.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
For the first time, Karma witnessed Tathāgata and Truth speak to him as one.
"You want the Dharma's ire?" he bellowed, his halo reigniting with blinding intensity. "I'll show you the Dharma's ire!"
Anachronistic hymns resounded as two apparitions, identical to Tathāgata, stepped out from his body. Dharmic currents ferried them to Karma's sides, entombing him in a three-pronged formation.
Huh, every time he calls on the Dharma, the halo constricts a tiny bit further, idly noted Karma, doing nothing to interrupt his opponent. Instead, beneath the folds of reality—not one, but—two burning black threads slowly clambered upward ...
"gate gate pāragate pārasaṃgate bodhi svāhā," sang Tathāgata, each syllable provoking mountainous quakes. The moment his halo had shrunk to the radius of a plum, all went quiet as the sky split.
For Buddha descended.
Eyes tightly shut.
Heart wide open.
"Impressive! Such a prodigy," hissed Anlîthëma. "To summon an Embryonic Avatar at the 6th level of Qi Formation. Genius!"
"Indeed," replied Karma. "What a shame."
"What a shame," echoed Anlîthëma.
Pre-empting the Buddha's full manifestation, the hidden black threads ignited into the foyer of reality. In their wake, two colossal arms sodden with iridescent flame subsumed the mantle of Heaven.
Gripping the Buddha's head on both sides, they ripped.
An inhuman cry wracked the air.
Buddha had arrived.
Hailed by three.
Exited as two.
Mourned by one.
Swoosh.
Clutching the back of Tathāgata's burgundy robe, Karma whispered, "Our battle ends much as it began."
An azure phantom severed the emptiness between Tathāgata's head and his halo.
"Ignorant of the Dharma."
"What ..." Blearily, Tathāgata asked, "What is the Dharma?"
"Shhh," consoled Karma, turning the monk to face him. "I'll tell you when you wake up."
"Huh—"
Karma's finger landed on his forehead, replacing confusion with restful snores.
"146," Tathāgata muttered, "conservation. 145, imprecision. 144, ..."
"What did you do to him?"
Karma, propping his chin with his knuckle, proudly declared, "I put him in a loop of Elder Li's 7-hour lecture, Spiritual Energy Manipulation: 146 Most Common Mistakes and Their Solutions."
"Isn't that divulging the sect's secret teachings?"
"Nah—all the answers are his own. Elder Li just smiles, nods, and increments the count until it hits 146."
"Ahhh, intriguing. You would make an exceptional inquisitor; when you reach the Earthly Monarch realm, I'll take you to A'Zor'El Penitentiary. They offer an excellent bounty program."
"Sounds fun!"
"Depending on which end of the bounty you're on, it most definitely can be!"
"What did you—"
"Won't say."
...
"And please don't divine it. It's embarrassing ..."
"Fine. But only as long as you behave."
**
Anlîthëma, curiously studying his new roommate, inquired, "What are you planning to do with him?"
"What other use would I have of a hostage? Of course, I'm going to ransom him for Cosmic Fairy Dust!"
How ruthless! As expected of a primordial.
"How is that ruthless?"
...
He's listening.
"And waiting."
Heaving a weary sigh, Anlîthëma queried, "How do you think the Cittamātra Sect will react to their most prized disciple being used as a bargaining chip? In exchange for Fairy Dust, no less ..."
"Poorly?"
We're doomed.
...
Smack.
Karma hammered his hand with a closed fist. "I've got it! As long as I take the other sects’ prodigies hostage, they can't be upset, since it happened to everyone!"
"Including your own sect? Won't they—at least vaguely—recognize you?"
"A most salient point."
...
"I know! When I kidnap the Winged Bellicosi disciple—eh—Ilmiri, I'll disguise as a monk. Then I'll use Ilmiri's robes and capture Lione, and Lione's robes for the Penumbra Effigy Sect disciple. Perfect, right?"
"That—might just work, at least in theory," conceded Anlîthëma.
"Any reason you've chosen that particular ordering?"
"Well, the Penumbra disciple, Erinyes, is a woman ... I didn't think her robe would fit me."
"..."
**
Still seated, Cittamātra monks formed a circle beside a waterlogged embankment, their ceaseless Buddhist intonations largely unaffected by Tathāgata's absence.
Swoosh.
The monks shot to their feet, collectively searching for sudden bursts of movement.
Gasp!—"Brothers, look, Doyen Tathāgata's seat!"
103 potent stares converged at the congregation's center, finding a small wooden slab inscribed with a crude pictogram.
"Is that ... IS THAT DOYEN—"
"SHH!"—"QUIET!"—"DO NOT!"—"SLANDER!"
Ashen-faced, the burliest of the bunch solemnly approached the heretical plank. After an abrasive glance, the blasphemous illustration exploded amid a hail of splinters.
"Quit dawdling!" he glowered. "Get moving! I want a pile of Cosmic Fairy Dust, and I want it now!"
The Cittamātra contingent—burly and non-burly alike—scattered post-haste.
Shielded from their brethren's scrutiny, 99% of them failed to contain their gloating smiles.
That drawing alone was worth the trip, they unknowingly echoed, many between fits of laughter.
The burly monk proved the sole exception.
He did not smile.
He did not laugh.
He was far, far too busy admiring the wooden slab held between shaky fingers.
The splinters from before?
Why, they might as well have been ...
Fairy Dust.
[https://i.imgur.com/wUGU1jk.png][https://imgur.com/wUGU1jk]