Opening my Core to the world, I Devour Heavenly Energy and Spectres without distinction.

Chaos and pandemonium breaks out across the fetid battlefield as the wails of Spectres fills the air, overwhelming the disheartened screams and bloodthirsty howls of Defiled and Imperial alike. The former flee and the latter pursue, joining the harmonies of dying groans and bitter curses to the discordant melodies of Spectre suffering which only I can hear, but there is no satisfaction to be gained in the work I’ve done. No, if it were up to me, I would leave the Spectres be for a while longer yet, because the walls still stand, the camps still hold, and Sinuji remains whole. There is plenty of killing left to be done and it vexes me to cut things short, but I can’t pick and choose between what to Devour, so it is an all or nothing act. Devouring Spectres is merely the side-effect in this case, because what I need now is to replenish my Chi reserves. I could still gather Chi using the traditional method of Balance and not scare off the Defiled, but Devouring is faster and I’ll need all the strength I can muster.

Because Gen is here, and I will kill him. Who cares about the rest of the battle?

Better to defeat and humiliate him, make him suffer and regret.

There he sits atop his beaked monstrosity, surrounded by others of his kind. Though he looks different from my memories, I would recognize him even if he wore a different face. There’s something about him which stands out from the other Defiled, something I cannot place, yet it gives away his true identity like an illuminated arrow hanging over his head. He’s taller now, and has broader shoulders than I remember, built like a lean, athletic warrior and lacking the telltale deformities shared by other Defiled, unless you count the metallic sheen of his skin which stretches from forearm to fingertip. No longer a dirty, pinched-face villager, he could easily pass for a young Imperial noble with his ornate, green and silver Runic plate armour, a full set with breastplate, pauldrons, greaves, skirt, boots, and an open-faced helmet shaped like a wolf’s head, and tigers and dragons aplenty on the rest.

It’s infuriating to see him adorned with those animals, because he’s no wolf, tiger, or dragon, and certainly not the prominent young hero he pretends to be. Beneath the thin veneer of wealth, strength, and confidence, Gen is nothing more than a craven bully and weak-willed shit-stain who will crumble at the first sign of adversity. He escaped justice in Sanshu, but he will not be so lucky again. Let the Defiled flee to fight another day, for their cavalry is all but eradicated, meaning they will be easy pickings for my quin riders or the Imperial light cavalry if Hongji orders a pursuit. Even if he doesn’t, their deaths will come soon enough when they march on the Empire again, but Gen?

He dies today.

Death would be too easy, too merciful. He deserves so much worse.

On the surface, Gen appears eager to cross blades, but his eyes reveal him for the coward he truly is, panicking as I ride towards him with Unity in hand. Recovering from his surprise, Gen points two glowing-hot blade-fingers in my direction and unleashes a second bolt of fire, one larger and faster than the first. Cautioning Zabu to continue at a steady pace, I quickly deal with Gen’s attack the same way I dealt with the first. Deep in Enlightenment, time moves slowly and materializing Water Chi onto the flat of Unity’s blade is as easy as turning my hand, while connecting with the firebolt is only slightly more difficult. As Water Chi meets Fire Chi, the flame dies and the water dissipates, not in the way water puts out fire or fire evaporates water, but more like two equal but opposite forces moving along the same string and negating one another when they meet, both disappearing without fanfare as if they’d never existed.

I’m not entirely sure how it works except that it’s definitely not a rock-paper-scissors thing since I could probably use Water Chi to do the same to Yan’s Wind blades. Regardless, this is a matter to ponder later, because right now, there’s killing to be done.

His end will be slow and agonizing to make him pay for his crimes. A thousand days of torture with Healers and Heavenly Energy to sustain him would only be the start...

Dispersing two of Gen’s firebolts expended over a fifth of my Water Chi, a hefty price but one I had to pay. Although I can’t replace the depleted Water Chi, I have no real practical use for it anyways, so using it frees up valuable space in my Core for regular Chi. I know all too well how quickly the Defiled improve, and Gen improves faster than most, so not only is he better geared than I am, he’s likely stronger and more skilled too. If I want him dead by my hands, then I’ll need to use every tool in my arsenal to take his head and wear him down in a battle of endurance, which just so happens to be my specialty.

A shame there are so many Auras on the battlefield, rendering Honed Aura useless. There’s no way I could break through so many and still have Chi left to fight...

Drag the fight out and destroy him in mind and spirit. Shame him to the core and hurt him until he begs for the sweet relief of death.

Face twisted in a grimace, Gen’s fingers glow in preparation for a third firebolt, but unbeknownst to him, it’s already too late. A light squeeze of my calves and Zabu pounces into action, covering the last bit of distance in the blink of an eye. Blood splatters as Unity pierces through scale, bone, and brain, killing the gajashia before smashing into Gen’s belly. Protected by his Runic armour, the impact sends him flying off his dead mount and into the dirt, but Zabu has already ridden past his tumbling form and the fight is on in earnest. Unlike the rest of the Defiled, Gen’s mounted cronies didn’t panic and flee when I started Devouring, but I suppose that’s why they deserve the fancy Runic gear. Like Gen, there’s something different about these armoured mounted bowmen, something... unsettling which makes them stand out from other Defiled, but I can’t say what. Regardless, they die like any other Defiled, and impenetrable though their armour might be, their mounts are creatures of flesh and blood. After a quick exchange, Gen’s elite cavalry has been downgraded to elite infantry, milling about in a big clump of red, blue, and just a splash of yellow armour while surrounded on all sides by snapping quins and soldiers readying their bows and crossbows.

Knowing Gen could unleash a massive pillar of flame at any moment, I hold off on ordering my soldiers to let loose upon the huddled Defiled, tempting though it might be. Dismounting from Zabu, I strap Tranquility on and hang two gourds of Chi-infused water to my belt, just in case a Demon shows up and joins the party. “Come out Gen,” I call, my voice cold with fury. “Stop hiding and face your death.” Dumb as it is to face him in single combat, I don’t want to risk one of my soldiers killing him by accident. Gen’s life is mine to take, and mine alone.

As he pushes his way out of the crowd, Gen’s hateful features reignites the pain and hatred I thought long since buried, old wounds torn anew as I grieve for Qing-Qing and yearn for vengeance once more. “Well, ‘Baledagh’,” he says, grinning like he’s greeting an old friend. “The time for reckoning is upon us.”

“For once, you’re right.” Settling into my stance, I ready for the charge. “Because today is the day you die.”

A single second compresses into an eternity as I watch his face twist in disgruntled outrage, but before his lips part to refute me, I’m already moving in for the kill. Balance on Windy Leaf into Pierce the Horizon, and Unity connects with Gen’s open palm in a resounding clang, echoing the clash of Hammer and Anvil within my Natal Palace. Though unable to pierce his metallic skin, the force of the attack sends his hands slamming into his nose and I’m rewarded with a satisfying crack of bone, though it’s not as satisfying as seeing him dead. Stumbling back into his Defiled, two yellow-armoured Elites steady Gen on his feet after the stunning, concussive blow.

What? He’s strong, tough, and fast to boot, so I thought he’d easily dodge the attack. Even though he got his hands up in time, I still rung his bell pretty hard. Am I strong?

Too easy. Too simple. Why worry? Hurt him. Humiliate him. Show him how inferior he is and always will be.

Blood pouring from his broken nose, Gen shakes his head and pushes his Elites away before charging ahead, his unsteady feet betraying his shaky state of mind. Powerful as he is, his clumsy attack is hardly what I’d expected and a single thrust is enough to ward it off and leave him open for a second thrust to the gut. Folding as he falls to his knees, the Amplified blow forces his breath from his lungs, which tells me his Runic armour is impervious to blades, but not impact. Good. I can’t make him bleed, but he still feels the blows. Smashing him left, then right, I hammer him across the shoulders and chest to show him who’s in control. Arms hanging at his side, Gen is defenceless as I touch Unity’s blade to his chin, forcing him to raise his head and look me in the eyes. This was much easier than I thought, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’ve improved so much or he’s barely improved at all.

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One thrust, and all this is over. All I need to do is slide my arm forward, and Gen dies, but that would be too... easy. Yes. Too merciful. “Get up, whelp. You remember what I told you the first time you pointed a weapon at me?”

There it is. Fear. He’d forgotten all about it, forgotten our little promise, made back when he was merely a nameless hunter with a makeshift spear and I was Baledagh, injured and exhausted yet still strong enough to kill him without a thought. I’d touched a weapon to his throat then too, though it was only a walking stick, and told him I’d skin him alive if he ever pointed a weapon at me again. A promise made in the heat of anger, but a man should keep his promises. With a flick of my wrist, I slash Unity’s blade across his beardless chin to cut off a sliver of flesh, but for the first time ever, my Honed blade fails to cut and merely scrapes over his pale skin and leaves a trail of red skin behind.

Flinching back with a squawk of pain, Gen touches his skin in surprised confusion which mirrors my own. Why couldn’t I cut him? It was only a light graze, but I can carve through steel plates like butter with a lighter touch. Understanding dawns on Gen and his fear fades away, all too quickly replaced by mirth and relief. “You don’t have one,” he says, cackling like a crazed lunatic. “You don’t have one!”

Grabbing Unity’s blade with a metallic hand, Gen yanks himself to his feet but I shift to the right, forcing him off balance as he stumbles away. Wrenching Unity out of his steely grip, I aim a full strength thrust at his face, but he anticipates the attack and rolls away instead of turning to meet me. Coming to his feet with a snarl, he leaps forward and connects with a powerful right hook. Though Tranquility is in place to block, the punch almost knocks me off my feet and reminds me the massive disparity between us. As he follows through with multiple wild swings and a reckless advance, I’ve no choice but to back away and use Unity’s reach to keep my distance, his confidence building as I retreat from his powerful attacks. This is more of what I was expecting, but prodigious strength aside, his skills are still sub-par. Unfortunately, I have neither impervious Armour or unbreakable skin to keep me intact, so if he gets into close range, he’ll shred me to pieces, and if I back off too much then I’ll have to deal with bolts and pillars of flame. I guess that’s why his Martial skills are shit, but shouldn’t he have Spectres guiding his attacks? Unsure why he’s so weak or why I can’t cut his skin, I go back to plan A and prepare for a battle of endurance, letting him wear himself out with his ferocious offensive while draining his Chi with well-placed thrusts to his armour.

Having found his spine, Gen’s attacks grow more cunning and powerful as he learns my habits and patterns, guided more by instinct than foresight. Using this to my advantage, I mix in feints and traps to bait him into unfavourable exchanges, landing jabs, thrusts, slashes, and strikes with impunity yet he always gets back up. It’s almost as if he’s impervious to pain and has endless stamina to continue our battle, and even though I have the upper hand, my back is soaked with cold sweat from the close calls because all it’ll take is one mistake to end me.

Using a lull in the fight to taunt me, Gen asks, “What’s the matter, ‘Baledagh’?” His chest heaves with exertion and brow drips with sweat, but his despicable smile is wide and toothy as he slowly slinks left, then right, his shoulders hunched forward like a predator preparing to lunge. “Where are your threats now? What of your promise, hmm?” Cackling as if he’d made some great joke, he adds, “I should thank you for trapping the Spirits. I’ll now have the satisfaction of knowing this victory was mine and mine alone. To think the Number One Talent in the Empire would be so weak, unable to break through a simple Domain. Pitiful.”

There’s that word again. Domain.

Argat’s Sending sounds in my head, his voice calm, but concerned. “Don’t listen to him. He’s not invincible. Keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll win.” While it’s good advice, the damage is already done, because it’s all I can think about now. What the fuck is a Domain? Core Creation, Aura Condensation, Natal Palace Formation, and Domain... what? Domain, Domain, Domain. You Have No Domain. Sensing my wavering emotions, the Spectres pick up the chant like an eerie, sing-song mantra, ridiculing me for my lack of skill and intelligence.

You are weak. You are powerless. You cannot win. You are destined to lose.

The minor distraction costs me as Gen latches onto Unity with a two-handed grip and lifts me off my feet. Instead of abandoning the weapon, I cling tight as he howls with glee and slams me into the dirt. Wrenching it out of my hands, Gen tosses Unity aside and charges as I come to my feet. Raising Tranquility to fend off his claw, I draw Peace just in time to block the other hand, its pointed blades plunging towards my soft belly. Face to face with my foe, Gen cackles as he forces me back across the field, my feet digging two furrows through the dirt. Reinforcing for all I’m worth, I lash out with my foot and slam into his knee, but I might as well have kicked an iron board. At least it stopped his advance and wiped the smile off his face, but my relief is short lived as he growls and ramps up the pressure. Though our weapons are locked in place, his hands are far more malleable than my sword and shield, and the fingers on his left hand glimmer and... melt. Three of his blade-fingers shrink and shorten, slowly withering away while his index finger stretches ever so slowly towards my chest, the tip pointed directly at my heart.

Great. The fucking T-1000 remembered he’s got transforming metal hands. Just great.

“After I kill you,” Gen whispers, his eyes burning in delight as his finger inches closer to my heart, “I’ll kill all your friends too. I wanted you to watch them die, but I’ll have to settle for simply telling you beforehand. Their deaths will be slow and painful, but I’ve special plans for a chosen few.” Leaning closer, his prodigious strength forces me to my knees and his face hovers mere centimetres from mine, his broken nose still crooked but no longer bleeding. “You killed my Bei, so it’s only fair if I take your woman to replace her. Du Min Yan was her name, yes? A half-beast, but I’ll still treat her well, burn her skin and delight in her screams. Sumila too. I’ve a score to settle with that bitch, and that pretty little cat-girl too. I hear you – ”

Roaring in rage, I surge to my feet and headbutt him in the face, accepting the pain of his talon piercing through my flesh to shut his vile mouth. Breaking his nose for the second time in this fight, I shove him away and ignore the sickening squelch from his talon sliding free from my flesh or the light-headed rush which accompanies it. Stemming the bleeding with a thought, I activate my Healing Keystone before bringing the fight to Gen once more, doing my best not to worry about my literal bleeding heart. Balance on Windy Leaf, but instead of Pierce the Horizon, I raise Tranquility and perform Traverse the Mountain, diving headfirst at my foe’s exposed face yet again. The flying tackle connects with a satisfying crunch, because whatever’s protecting Gen from my Honed blades doesn’t shield him from blunt impacts. Following up with Twin Horns, Peace’s Honed edge glides across Gen’s Runic breastplate with the shriek of metal just before Tranquility’s dual blades deliver a powerful blow to his ribs, but I am not through yet.

Rush Hour was Baledagh’s invention, but after running face first into Mahakala’s steel belly, I figured it’d be good to have a follow up in case I ever faced another impossibly durable foe.

Borrowing a page from Song, I perform Stalk the Dragon, Swipe the Rushes, Reverse the Flow, into Fanged Clutch, smashing Gen about with a series of Amplified attacks. Head, chest, wrist, knee, I aim at whatever exposed target is convenient and overwhelm him with a deluge of powerful attacks, going off-book and using whatever movements feel right. Spear Hand delivers a thrust to his chest and sends Gen reeling away while Prancing Stride and Rising Steps closes the distance. As he regains his footing, Darting Fang and Uplifts the Sequoia connects with his helmet, and Twisting Snap delivered by my foot sends him crashing to the dirt. Standing over my fallen foe, I unleash Standing Fury and rain a flurry of powerful strikes upon him, smashing his hands out of the way so he cannot defend against my frenzied attacks. The ring of metal on metal is almost soothing as I drum out a rhythm on his armour, the noise drowning out the wailing Spectres as I draw ever closer to victory.

Hurt him. Break him. He is powerless to resist, so savour his despair.

The world spins and I land heavily in the dirt, with quins bounding past as my soldiers charge into the fray. Pulling me to my feet, Argat drags me away from the battle, away from Gen who lies bloodied, battered, and breathing. “No!” The howl rips from my throat before my feet touch the ground, struggling to free myself from his grip as I watch the yellow-armoured Defiled drag my foe away. “Gen needs to die!”

“Then you should’ve killed him when you had the chance.” Argat’s grim tone is unapologetic as he forces me to look at what’s happening around us. “Duel’s over. The Demons are here.”

A flash of lightning and clap of thunder punctuate his point as Lei Gong enters the battle, his stunning attack absorbed by Pudge’s shimmering shield of water. The Tyrant makes her presence known with a prismatic spray of light, radiating from a diamond ring worn on her right index finger which slams into a tentacle-cloaked Demon and sends it crashing back into the crowd. Pandemonium erupts as more Demons join the fray and I lose sight of Gen as my Experts coordinate a fighting retreat while the armoured Defiled do the same, so all I can do is swallow my fury and curse my ego for dragging the battle out as long as I did.

I had him on his knees with Unity at his throat. Why didn’t I kill him? Even if I can’t stab him, a hard enough thrust could’ve broken his neck, and he’s almost as good as dead.

...

The Spectres. They manipulated me, tricked me into letting him live. I could’ve killed him, but they used my anger against me, made me want to prolong his pain and suffering. Win-win for them, since it raises the chances of Gen turning full Demon instead of the weird, quasi-Demon thing he’s got going on right now. I suppose I was a bit premature to throw Balance entirely out the window, especially when I’ve got more Spectres in my belly than I’ve ever had before, but this is the first time they’ve been so... persuasive in a long while.

Burning with anger and self-loathing, I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and watch as the Defiled army makes a coordinated retreat, unwilling to continue fighting without their maddened auxiliaries. Scanning the crowd for Gen, I pray for one last opportunity to slit his throat and worry I might not get another chance. No more tricks and schemes, Spectres. Gen will not escape me again. It doesn’t matter if he has a Domain and or fights alongside his disciplined Defiled soldiers, or even if he has a dozen more Demons waiting in the wings. Then next time I see him, Gen will die, whether it be by my hand or another’s.

No one threatens my beloved wives. No one.

Chapter Meme

All of you right now