26. You Smite and You Build

Slowly but surely, Last Sorrow became a place of hope and forward momentum.

All it’d taken was a plan of action—if not a light at the end of the tunnel, then at least the means to get there. Granted, neither the plan nor the action would’ve been possible without a couple of outsiders that had just happened to stop by, but Serac didn’t see anything wrong with that. In fact, wouldn’t she herself still be stuck in prison if it hadn’t been for Trippy’s timely intervention?

Sometimes, a girl just needed to feel needed. Nothing wrong with that, either. The Penitents of Last Sorrow needed Serac and Zacko to show up in their lives, and truth be told, Serac and Zacko needed them in turn—at least at this point in their journey.

“That’s not how you make a fist. Unless you want to break your fingers the moment you miraculously land a punch.”

Presently, Zacarias Borges-Juventus stood by the same cliff edge where he got ambushed some weeks ago. Today, he again faced a gaggle of Rakshasas that formed a semicircle around him—except none of them were armed. Well, unless you counted the teachings of a NINEFOLD master to be a weapon, one that was perhaps a little more reliable than sticks and stones.

“Start with your pinky finger, see? Tuck it in real tight and fold the other fingers over one by one. Uh… actually, I never thought to ask if you guys can even do that. Do your claws get in the way?”

“I’ve got it, boss!” Serac chimed in, demonstrating at the front of the class. She was a member of the inaugural graduating class, along with Pazu, but she still liked to poke her head in whenever the master was with his new students. “And don’t worry about us Rakshasas. Our thick skin is about the only thing we’ve got going for us!”

“Right,” Zacko muttered, obviously miffed. He seemed to take his teaching duties rather more seriously than he would any other aspect of his life, and he’d already tried several times to get rid of Serac. “Anyway, once you’ve managed to make a proper fist, I want you to copy my stance. Pay special attention to the feet now. This is how you distribute your—”

“Ope, there it is again! Your boy Pazu’s killing it out there, boss!”

Serac’s latest interruption drew an exasperated sigh from Zacko. But he also couldn’t hide his curiosity, as his eyes flashed with a Pathsighted gleam.

[12 क] was what showed up on Serac’s vision to join with the rest of her Liminal Karma. The same number would be flowing into Zacko’s coffers: their equal share for having contributed indirectly to the smiting of an Aberrant somewhere out there in the desert.

And this ratio was something Serac did feel genuinely apologetic about. Between the two Wayfarers, Zacko definitely deserved the lion’s share of the credit for having trained Pazu in the basics of melee combat. All Serac did, from one Rakshasa to another, was show him a few ways to dodge a Flesh-fiend’s lunge attack.

Pathsight being what it was, it couldn’t bother to calculate the minutiae of teaching contributions. If anything, Serac thought it was mighty generous of ‘the system’ to reward her with indirect Karma at all. Even Zacko was astounded when the first batch of mysterious numbers had flowed in while he was out backing up Pazu on his maiden patrol.

“This is what’s called Secondary Transfer,” had been Trippy’s explanation, rich with technical context as always. “When a Wayfarer is adjudged to have indirectly assisted in a smiting conducted by an Anchored soul, the assisting Wayfarer receives a maximum 50% of the corresponding Karma credit. Do note, however, that this reward will diminish with each subsequent smiting by the same individual, meaning Secondary Transfer cannot be relied upon as a permanent source of passive Karma.”

But even a temporary source of passive Karma was wonderful news for a level-starved Wayfarer and her debt-paying companion.

The latest inflow of just [12 क] likely meant that Pazu’s well would soon run dry, but then Mahta was already waiting in the wings, then Aji would be ready after that. In fact, assuming all the ‘younglings’ of Last Sorrow could be counted on to smite a few Aberrants each, the Manusya who’d taught them how to fight was looking at a very nice windfall to help him on his Path to Karmic rehabilitation.

“See Zacko?” Serac yelled in the middle of class again, not knowing when to quit while she was ahead. “Aren’t you glad you helped people instead of killing them? Maybe if you’d been doing that from the start, you wouldn’t be in so much—”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” Zacko snapped, using his teacher voice to full effect. “If you’re going to be a nuisance, do it where I can’t see or hear you. Go… help Indira with her sewing or something, I don’t care.”

Serac flashed the NINEFOLD master a shit-eating grin even as she kicked herself out of his class. ‘I don’t care,’ huh? You ain’t fooling anyone, Zacko. Not anymore.

As she headed back to the cave dwellings, she had every intention of following Zacko’s advice. But Indira the seamstress was nowhere to be found, likely out scavenging for more supplies. More to kill the time rather than out of necessity, Serac sat down next to the Hubstation to take a gander at her current ‘status’.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

[Karmic Level 13 -> ]

[Liminal Karma: 492 क]

[Requisite Karma: 1581 क]

Since her defeat to Vetala-Ashvanaga some couple of weeks ago, she’d manage to level up four more times, putting all four attribute points into Abidance as Trippy had suggested. That brought her max Stamina up to 114, which should help her squeeze in an extra shot or dodge-roll.

All in all, though, she was starting to be frustrated by her progression—or the lack thereof. Frustrated enough to distract her out of her meditative state… and notice Ravi’s wizened face staring serenely across the lotus flower.

“Gah!” she yelped, nearly jumping to her feet as she did. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell, but you gotta make more noise when you’re coming and going, man.”

“Apologies, Wayfarer,” Ravi said, voice feeble but not at all apologetic. “You appeared deep in thought. Is something vexing you?”

“Maybe vex is too a strong word,” Serac said as she re-crossed her legs, “but I am feeling just a little lost on what to do.”

Ravi nodded sagely. “Perhaps you feel that you’ve hit something of an impasse.”

“Maybe impasse is too a strong word, but yeah, I’m a little worried about twiddling my thumbs for the next fortnight—or however long it takes for the Ferryman to come back. I think Zacko and I have hunted the local Aberrants half to extinction, and even if we haven’t, the returns we’re getting from them are nowhere near enough to keep up with leveling demands. I don’t know if you know this, but—”

“The Karma you require for leveling up increases with each level. Yes, Zacarias told me that the other day.”

“Oh?” Serac raised an eyebrow, not surprised but still a little surprised that Zacko had been getting so chummy with the local Rakshasas. “Yeah, and it’s really starting to ramp up. It’s just—what’s the word—‘diminishing returns’ at this point, you know? Even if I smite every Flesh-fiend I can get my claws on from here on out, I don’t know that’s really going to move the needle for my readiness to take on Vetala… or maybe even stronger enemies after that.”

Ravi nodded again, a little slower this time. His eyes were half-closed, which made him look even sleepier than usual.

“Are you familiar, Wayfarer, with the story of the frog in the well?”

“Can’t say I am. Mind you, you could probably fill a library with the stories I’m not familiar with.”

“It’s a fable about one’s limited perspective of the world and the ignorance and complacency engendered by such limitations. You see, how can the frog know just how vast the sky is beyond the circular rim of her well? How mighty the challenges that await her, should she only venture to step foot into the outside world? I believe that the frog’s complacency and your frustrations are really two sides of the same coin.”

“… They are?”

“Yes. Just as the frog overestimates her own place in the world, you underestimate your own potential for growth. Get across the Canyon, and you shall see, Wayfarer. There are challenges under the Naraka sky that are far greater and worthier than a Flesh-fiend or even a Ferryman and his living castle. And your rewards for overcoming those challenges will be commensurate with their difficulties. I daresay you won’t be complaining of ‘diminishing returns’ then.”

“Ha! You’re probably right. And it doesn’t stop there, right? Even after I conquer everything Naraka can throw at me, I still have the other Five Realms to climb. At least… that’s what I promised…”

Serac trailed off, suddenly unsure how much her ‘promise’ still mattered. As if sensing her hesitation, her Rakshasa elder rushed to her aid.

“No doubt, Serac. I’ve no doubt of the grandness of the journey that still awaits you,” Ravi said, then opened his eyes to their cataractous fullness, looking wide awake if a little unfocused. “Yet, there’s more to be said about the frog in the well. For I sometimes wonder whether I tell that story for the benefit of younglings like yourself, or perhaps—”

“Wayfarer!”

It happened so frequently that, by now, Serac should’ve been used to getting interrupted while sitting next to a lotus flower. She snapped to attention all the same, with her fight-or-flight instincts responding to the voice’s urgency.

Pazu the no-longer-a-head-basher came rushing toward the Hubstation, followed closely by Indira the seamstress. Both were panting hard as though they’d just run a long distance. The dark flush of their cinnabar skins spoke plainly of their shared and heightened emotion.

And even though their faces too spoke plainly of the urgent news they’d come to bear, Serac’s first thought was: Pazu and Indira? Well, I never!

“Wayfarer!” Pazu exclaimed again, oblivious to said Wayfarer’s on-the-fly inferences about his personal life. “It’s the Ferryman! He’s here early—and about to make his ‘descent’, even as we speak!”

“Got it,” Serac said with a calmness that surprised herself. And then… she couldn’t help it. She once more broke into a shit-eating grin despite knowing full well this was neither the time nor the place. “But once this is all over, you two are going to tell me everything.”

By the time she climbed back up to the surface, Zacko was already there waiting for her. Wordlessly, they broke into a pacey jog, headed for the same promontory where they intercepted the Ferryman last time. Already, they could see the pink sandstorm rumbling toward the cliffs on the other side of the Canyon.

Theirs was an unspoken understanding built from nearly a month of smiting as a team. Despite the enemy’s unexpectedly early arrival, no words were needed. All the strategizing, coordinating, and ironing out were over and done with. Now, it was time to put theory into practice.

The Wayfarers reached the promontory, just in time to see the sandstorm begin its ascent on the near side of the Canyon. Out of the corner of her eye, Serac saw Zacko’s over-serious expression soften—an irreverent smile to match her shit-eating grin.

But she didn’t get to see the smile for long, before it too disappeared behind the mask of a laughing Buddha.