The everything that is Shin Ren (which she will, for the sake of brevity, call Shin Ren) take their first steps upon the island of the everything that is Raika (which, for the sake of brevity, he will be calling Raika).

“This is…”

“Something.”

“Yeah. So you’re-”

“I.. I am. You remember me, then?”

Shin Ren smiles, a lesser third of him drifting off into a shape that almost matches what Raika once looked like. “Yes. Yes, we remember you.”

Raika looks at the icon of black and red, shaped almost like her own shadow. It crackles, the concepts of carbon and calcified flesh and bubbling fat, but it crackles in a way that connects to the concept of… well actually, a lot of concepts. Something like joy, like hate, like rebuttal, like defiance, and… a little bit of arousal, too. Hmm.

Raika sends back a wave of her own concepts, making sure that detached respect, interest, curiosity, and just a hint of arousal of her own reach out to Shin Ren. The part of him that is sizzling flesh and burning agony smiles at that, a bit.

This is a place beyond flesh. And Raika isn’t exactly a conventional being anyways. Who is she to judge?

“That’s… not what I expected.”

“Life rarely is.”

“True enough. What is this place?”

“I think it’s… a higher dimension. A place of concept over matter. How the Heavens see us, maybe, and when they focus on us, it lets us… understand some of what they see. A world shaped by Intent. And for some reason this… island? Is me. Or part of me, maybe.”

“I’ve… been here before. Once, I think. Or someplace like it. My… my master told me he was holding something back, that it would strike me when I emerged from his Domain, but it never did. Why… why did it wait?”

“Could you have stopped drawing the Heaven’s attention? Or could be your master was off about the timing. I don’t know the inner workings of the Heavens, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe. I… I pushed myself harder than I ever have before, trying to… trying to avenge someone. Maybe that’s why? But… why are you here?”

“...Last time I had a tribulation was after I nearly died in a beast tide, and… transformed myself. I transformed myself during that last fight… quite a bit. And I think this… island? This part of myself, it was shielding me somehow, maybe making it take longer to notice me. It doesn’t feel the same as it did last time. Like… I’m not as disgusting to the world.”

“Mmmh. Must be nice.”

“A bit. Bad in its own ways, though. Still needed to… make some decisions. Establish my path.”

“In the face of an unloving world?”

“Mmmh. The very same.”

“So.

“What now?”

She looks around and spreads her “hands” (or the concepts thereof) to indicate the island around them. Waves from the different seas of Concept and Dao land on the shores of her being, and with each one, the shores expand. Blood, Flame, Sharpness, Violence, Life, Change, Transformation, and more all lap as waves upon the beach, and when they retract, the beach has gotten a little larger.

“Drink deep. I don’t know how time works here, I’m pretty sure it’s one of the weirder patches of waves out there, but I don’t know how to get back. And while we’re here, we get stronger. Hopefully I finish whatever this is quickly enough that I wake up before someone finds a way to kill me.”

Shin Ren frowns. “That’s… unlikely. Interfering with a Tribulation is borderline impossible, I think. The direct attention of the Heavens… it’s not something that can be broken without the highest order of effort.”

“Well… You did summon one straight through a few dozen floors or a Fortress City. In the middle of a battle.”

“...Yes, I suppose I did. I… apologize. For dragging you into it.”

She looks at him then. Really looks at him.

The moment before they arrived here, they were trying to kill each other. And yet here… she reached out to him. She barely hesitated. And he… he barely seems angry.

No, that’s not true either. She can see the concepts of him, see the pattern, the Dao of each of those concepts, and there’s rage there. Pain. Sorrow. But… it’s only a part of him. There’s just… so much to who he is, and she can see all of him. All of who he is, from his first moment to now, from the very foundations of who he is.

And he can see her.

He can see the pain she went through when he burned her, when she stood on an executioner’s stage and had him preach at her.

She can see the pain he went through, trying to remember what it means to be a person after he had to face what he did.

He can see the agony that was her initial transformation, the oversensitivity strong enough to make her shut down.

She can see the moment where he lost his master, the only person he could think of who cared about him enough to see past power, past the facade.

Every part of what defines who they are, and who they’ve chosen to be, is open and exposed to each other. Awake and alive, their histories on display.

And she can’t hate him.

And he can’t hate her.

He can see how she felt when she promised them that she didn’t want to fight. That it would be ok to surrender, and she’d leave.

She can see that he, too, had no ill will. Didn’t even know who she was, and faced her honestly.

What little hate they might have is intellectual, and this place is… more profound than that.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

They are silent together for a while.

And eventually, he nods.

“Thank you.”

And then… there is nothing left to say. Nothing between them that words can offer that their perception of each other’s wholeness could not.

She shapes a part of her… self? Her island? Her Heart? To accommodate him. She leaves the wriggling things beneath her “sand”, the fragments of other beings she consumed, close to the center, safe from the waves. A little inlet forms, a thousand concepts wrapped into a single idea, and Shin Ren perches upon it like a signal flare or a lighthouse on the waves. The seas of Flame, of Heat, of Strength, of a hundred other concepts dash on the ‘rocks’ beside him, and his three-part self drinks deep.

Raika cannot join him. The seas splash upon her, but she cannot drink them in- they beat against her own Self, against the ideas of who she is, and start to almost wash her out. The part of her that is something like a world of its own has almost doubled in size, but whatever she is, it’s not the same as a mortal cultivator.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

On the higher level she glimpsed, she stands as Soul, Mind, and Body, atop a marble of her own being. He is here too, but… his body and mind are small, wrapped tight by his own three-part self: three Flames shaped of personhood. A Soul, in all parts, presented to reality, while the rest of him is barely present, not grown to match.

But the island… it’s her. The thing standing atop of it, the Triune, it’s a shape she’s chosen, one that she maintains through her will alone, while the marble-that-is-her absorbs all that washes upon it.

But the marble is her.

She’s not… she’s not the thing on the surface. She’s not like Shin Ren. Her personhood is more… fluid.

She sits, the concept of a lotus position overlapping with the concept of her shape.

And then… she melts.

She falls.

Every part of her is just another part of the whole, and the whole is grander than mind, body and soul. It’s all… one.

She floats atop the universe, firm in her decision to BE, and cultivates in her own way.

Time passes.

They grow.

Waves of time beat on their shores, ever-shifting further.

And then…

They wake.

Reality cracks. Perception shifts. Their glimpse of all that is real, of a real world with dimensions deeper than any they can see while themselves, begins to fade, the attention of sevenfold infinity and all within it turning away from them. Without that gaze to differentiate them from the rest of the universe, they begin to dissolve back into it.

Until something stops them.

Something reaches through time and infinity, skirting the edge of the forever-gaze of those that DREAM of a world that is real-

And snatches them away.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raika blinks.

She’s in a room.

It’s all-black, the room. Shaped in a circle, with rings circling a central point. There are no walls, not really- merely a point where the room ends, and nothing else is. She is seated in a small chair, made of the same all-black material as the rest of the room. The ceiling is open, like a carved bowl with a hole in the bottom, facing a starry sky drenched in constellations… but none of them are looking at her.

None of them are looking here.

There is something sitting on the central ring of the room. On that central point, sitting atop a sort of podium, there is a being.

It is… mostly humanoid.

That is all she can say about it.

If there are features, she cannot see them. If there is a set of clothes atop its body, she cannot perceive them. All her senses tuned to the being before her, and she can sense… nothing.

It is there. It is shaped, somewhat vaguely, like a type of body she might recognize.

And it’s looking at her.

She clenches, ever so slightly, against the chair. Actions, she can track. She can’t determine whether or not the thing has eyes, but she can tell when it’s looking at her. She can react. She can move.

She looks as she does in her human form, but covered in the scars of her Soul, the wounds she has conquered and grown around or from marked on her frame. She goes to shift some of her biology, alter her tendons with piston-additions-

She can’t.

The being is… smiling at her.

No need for that, it says. You won’t be here long.

“...Who are you?”

You walk my roads, yet you do not know my face. Surely, there are some who have eyes, yet cannot see the mountains.

“...That doesn’t answer my question.”

There are some who would sever the limbs of their children and pluck out their own eyes for a chance to hear my voice. There are many who thank me for the food they eat and the water they drink. All who live away from the monsters beyond the Wall thank me for the privilege.

“For someone who I can’t actually hear, you sure do talk a lot.”

The being smiles wider.

You make a habit of being disrespectful when you should not be. It’s a bit endearing. Like a little ant that wiggles when it should stay still to avoid being crushed. I wonder, is it all a defense mechanism, or are you really such a brazen jester?

“I like to think I’ve naturally assimilated dry wit as a strength.”

Compensating for that lackluster thing you called cultivation, hmm? I don’t mind. It took real effort on your part to become this much of an annoyance. It really did. We haven’t had one of your kind pop up in… well, you wouldn’t really get the numbers. They had different calendars back then. You’ve been particularly fraught, in some ways. That bull friend of yours has really been keeping you sheltered. As best he can, at least.

Fuck. The high-level… whatever this thing is knows about Taurus. If he knows about Taurus, then-

Yes, I also know about your lover. Though you’re “on a break” now, right? Smart. She was a crutch and you were a weight. I’m rooting for her though. She’s doing great stuff with movement techniques these days. We’ll probably get one or two decent manuals out of her.

“Don’t you fucking dare-”

Relax. Last time I checked, we still pay a pretty bit of gold for technique manuals. It’s not all vivisection. It will be for you, but we don’t really care about most of your little band. You do tend to attract talent though, don’t you? Or maybe you just have a good eye for it. You helped that first kid along admirably, considering your state. What was his name? You know, the one that your bovine friend turned into mulch?

This time, she feels something in her stir. She can’t control herself as she should be able to, can’t transform like she wants to, and just by the state she’s in it’s obvious she couldn’t fight back if she could.

But…

“You don’t talk about him.”

That’s fine. It was a bit of a waste is all. We can always use more cultivators.

“Why?”

The being shrugs.

None of your business, really. Indulgence only gets you so far. Besides, this next part is going to hurt terribly.

She tries to get to her feet again, but-

Ah, ah, ah. None of that. You’re on the fringes, but this is still my house you stand in. You don’t get to break the Law just because you’re a little special. Now hold still. It’s better if you grow a little while longer. Let’s just… fix a few of these branches here.

The entity atop the pedestal reaches towards her, and she begins to feel a weight across her brow.

And then it multiplies.

A long band of something wraps around her head and squeezes, so tight that she can feel her skull start to strain, the brain matter beneath beginning to compress. She feels as much as sees a golden light wrap around the top of her skull like a band of iron and begin to crush everything about her.

No.

NO.

I Am Me, I Am Mine-

Yes, yes, you’re still you and yours. No need to break such a useful little trinket just yet, hmm? Best not to strain yourself. See, that’s the issue with a Truth. Once you know it, you can twist it around, just like any old phrase. You’re still you and yours, but who you are, well, that’s not defined in the statement, is it? And you’re all about changing. Makes this easier in some ways, harder in others. Wriggly thing that you are.

“Fuck you. You don’t get to-”

Oh I get to do whatever I want. Forever. That’s the price. You get to eat and sleep without the Heavens or the gods feeding you little visions and dreams, you get to not have to sweat out impurities every time you cycle, you get to enjoy a world where you never have to really learn anything important about yourselves, and we get to do whatever we want with all of you. We get to use you for something that matters. We get to choose what you do with all those pretty little ideas that we let you grow enough to have. And then we get to do it all over again after you’ve fucked out a few other little squealing fleshlings to feed back to us. Purity. Protection from those pesky aliens. A proper fattening up.

That’s what cattle gets.

And in return, the shepherds get to eat.

Now if you keep wriggling, it’s only going to hurt worse. So by all means, keep it up.

She snarls. She fights. She spends everything she has against the band, refusing to scream, refusing to cry, refusing to give up no matter how the weight continues to multiply. She knows her body, knows her tolerances for damage, and by the agony around her skull it should by all rights have shattered by now, but the pain only grows.

Higher. Deeper. Like the world itself is compressing down to nothing, crushing every thought out of her mind except her will.

She will not break.

She will not break.

She stared out an uncaring universe and chose to be her own. She will not be the plaything of this or any other horror, she is her Own and-

Done. Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?

The pain is gone.

It takes a little while longer for her senses to return. Her brain takes a while to remember to process other stimuli, her vision having long since gone dark.

When she can see again, she sees mostly red and indigo. She’s broken through her skin in multiple places, straining muscles tearing herself apart- all without moving an inch off the chair. Bloody tears and streams of crimson and purple from mouth, ears and nose paint her face and stream steadily down over her chest.

You really live up to your reputation. We’ve seen pain tolerance, but that was impressive. Kept fighting the whole time. Good job.

But I think we’re all done now. Can’t have you running completely wild. We’ve done that before, and it rarely ends well for anyone involved. Try and play more with what you have, hmm? You’ll only get tumors if you just keep growing so quick. Learn to appreciate the journey. You only really get to do it once.

Now, I hear you’re off to the fourth? Best of luck! I wish you well on your travels.

She manages to remember how to talk again, one question pounding in her mind. Through bloody teeth, she snarls out a single word.

“Why?”

The being just smiles.

Because new flavors and death follow you, wherever you go. Hand in hand. You’ll kill, and we’ll enjoy that, or you’ll die, and we’ll be a bit disappointed, but we won’t hold it against you. Either way, if we ever meet again, you’ll be interesting. And hopefully a bit more ripe. Now if you ever change your mind and decide you want a province or a few cities, some lovely peaches from my Garden, a couple heads on plates, you let us know, and we’ll see what we can do, ok? In the meantime, enjoy the wilds. There are just ever so many goodies out there to play with. We’re sure you’ll have a great time either way.

And don’t worry about your friends. They’re doing ever so well with us. Probably even die of natural causes in a few millennia. They’ll do just fine without you.

The band around her existence, her mind, her consciousness, her self, condenses once more and she is blinded by agony-

And then she wakes up.

And then part of the roof falls on her as a void shaped like an insectile, brass machine and a spirit beast the size of a mountain try to kill each other above her.