The Martial Peak. A misnomer, in Hideo’s eyes, but one he’d only just come to recognize.

All his life, he’d envisioned it much like the peak of a mountain, the penultimate destination of the Martial Path. Upon that lofty summit nestled within the clouds stood those Experts whose mastery over the Dao qualified them to study the mysteries of the Heavens themselves and perhaps, in time, surpass them. It was for this reason why he modelled his Natal Palace after Wutai Mountain, because he believed he too would one day reach those towering heights. His old fraud of a Mentor even painted a piece of artwork to depict the plight of Peak Experts, a grand image portraying various noble figures scattered across different mountain peaks of varying heights, all with their chins raised and eyes turned skyward as they pondered the next step. Kept in his meditation room, Juichi faced this painting every morning before contemplating the Dao, and Hideo suspected it was out of simple self-arrogance, since the painted figure standing on the highest peak bore a suspicious resemblance to Juichi himself.

It was in that room and before that painting where Hideo knelt and offered Juichi a cup of wine, entreating the pompous old coot to take him as his Mentor even though Juichi had already declared it would be so. Before accepting the cup, he gestured at the painting behind him and asked, “What do you see when you look upon this, little Hideo?”

“Grandeur,” Hideo had responded, after pausing to properly appreciate it, “And magnificence. The beauty and majesty of the Peak, seen by only a select few.”

The old coot’s reaction was not what Hideo expected, since the old man loved empty flattery, but instead of glowing with praise, he furrowed his brow and frowned instead, clearly displeased by Hideo’s answer. Rather than accept the cup of wine, Juichi sighed and said, “I painted this to remind myself of the trials and tribulations still ahead. The journey to the Martial Peak is a lonely one, where we each must find our way to the summit alone, and the same is true for what lies beyond. I, as your Mentor, can offer guidance, but only you can determine where to place your next step.” Stroking his beard with what Hideo now knew had been indecision, Juichi sighed again before accepting the cup. Father had pressured him into it, so that the great Mitsue Juichi would have a Disciple of note and the Mitsue Family finally have a rising dragon to trot out, but it was clear the old coot didn’t believe Hideo would ever measure up.

Before even accepting him as his Disciple, Juichi had already been making excuses, believing Hideo was too fixated on following in his Path. The old bastard had been his idol, and Hideo worked until he collapsed of exhaustion and woke with splitting headaches to master the Mountain Collapsing Stomp, but all Juichi did was sigh and lament about Hideo’s lacking foresight, about how he should forge his own path instead of following in the footsteps of his grand-uncle and idol. The old coot was just jealous, unhappy to see a younger, more promising Warrior usurp his Talent, which was why he stifled Hideo’s growth and only rarely offered personal guidance. Father claimed it was because Juichi loved Hideo like a grandson and was unable to bring himself to discipline him properly, but those were just comforting lies he told himself to justify his own sins. Mitsue Hiroshi was not only a Peak Expert himself, but one who rose to prominence without Juichi’s teachings, while every last one of the old coot’s Disciples wallowed in mediocrity or worse, so why would a father send his own son to learn from an incompetent Mentor?

Because family above all else. A crock of shit is what that was, yet another bald-faced lie fed to Hideo in order to control and restrict him.

Now that he had a proper teacher to advise him, he was like a tiger given wings, and the truth unveiled itself before him. The Martial Peak was not a mountain range as Juichi envisioned it, but better described as a winding, treacherous crevasse situated within a network of caves mired in shadowy darkness. Martial Warriors were those who’d stumbled across an entrance and were fortunate enough to begin their descent, and while those first few meters down were done blindly, the handholds were many and the way easily navigated. The further one progressed however, the steeper and slicker the dark crevasse grew, until one arrived at a point where there were no longer any finger or toe-holds in reach. Then, they were left with two decisions, to either retreat and try to find a different route, or blindly leap into the darkness and hope there was a ledge underneath.

And at the end of the journey, down in those seeming bottomless cavernous depths, the secrets of Heaven lay bare to anyone with the ability to grasp them.

Blindly scrambling about in the dark, that was how Martial Warriors proceeded along the illustrious Martial Path. Hardly the image one wished to present of dignified Peak Experts, but pride was one of the Five Poisons, according to Monk Eyebrows, joining envy as new additions to the original Three Poisons of greed, hatred, and ignorance. A worthy inclusion, for pride and envy were the downfall of many a Martial Warrior, including the Abbot’s Senior Brother, a man who served as one of the Five Wisdoms before his passing.

This mindset, the willingness to admit their wrongs and see matters in a different light, this was the crux of the Brotherhood’s understanding. It all came down to the first tenet of the Eight-Fold Path, which was to keep the Right view, a task Hideo could spend a thousand lifetimes on and still have room to improve. It wasn’t about blindly declaring one specific view correct, but about uncovering the Right View and amending their own personal perceptions in order to accept it. Despite all of Juichi’s ramblings about how each must find their own Path, he did so love to foist his own impressions upon others. “Those paired movements lack efficiency”, or “Your grip should be positioned three centimetres higher”, without ever taking the time to explain why, only that such was the way things should be, and Hideo should accept it as is.

Today however, he’d seen countless grand clashes taking place before him and marvelled at the vast complexities hidden within the Martial Depths. In a single afternoon, Hideo had borne witness to feats he never dreamed were possible as these gathered Peak Experts exhibited their various unique Paths. Some were no different from regular Martial Warriors save on a scale of strength, speed, agility, and stamina, exhibiting levels far above and beyond what a mere mortal could ever hope to accomplish. These men and women were Peak Experts in name alone, for though they had progressed further along than most were able, they were as blind as they’d been on the day they first descended into the depths, all due to a lack of understanding. Though they might comprehend the Dao and utilize it in ways Hideo couldn’t even begin to grasp, they lacked the understanding to explain their skills themselves.

Take Mitsue Juichi’s signature skill, the Mountain Collapsing Stomp. All his life, Hideo had heard about how powerful and destructive this sublime skill was, and how Juichi earned his fame with this phenomenal talent. When asked to share or even hint at the workings of his Talent, the old fart shook his head and told Hideo he was not yet ready, but Hideo mastered it nonetheless. However, even then he didn’t wholly understand how it was done, only that he could greatly empower his strikes by driving his Chi in an alternating pattern and feeding more and more in at designated timings. If asked why an alternating pattern or why those certain timings, Hideo would’ve been unable to answer, but Gen took one look at Hideo’s revised Mountain Collapsing Strike and not only identified the mechanism behind the so-called Talent, but also replicated it upon first try.

How was this possible? Because Gen was more talented than Hideo? Ridiculous. The peasant hunter had stumbled his way onto the Martial Path late and fell far enough to match Hideo’s progress before being saved by the Uniter, his strength due to nothing more than dog-shit luck. It was merely a difference in view, for Hideo had wasted long years following in the footsteps of a fool, when instead he should have sought out the Truth. It wasn’t his fault, for Imperial lies of Balance had blinded him to the basic principles of Heaven and he’d been too afraid to question what everyone already took to be true. Now, his eyes were open, and the Path clear, but there was still so far to go before he too could stand tall as a Peak Expert of humanity.

Despite their conviction in so many falsehoods and fallacies, there was much to be learned from the Imperial Peak Experts before him. Take the Singing Spear, Shi Yukun, for example, whose superlative skills in Lightening allowed him to dance over top the heads of Demon and Chosen alike while his signature spear sang a dirge of death. It was more than mere Lightening at work there, for if this were not the case, then any fool could’ve easily attacked Shi Yukun whilst he hung helplessly in mid-air. Many tried of course, especially the single-minded Demons who possessed an alarming lack of basic intelligence, but each time he came under threat, the slippery Singing Spear changed course mid-air and avoided all attacks without need to land hand or foot on any surface. How this might be possible, Hideo could only guess, but seeing as he lacked the skills to test his theories and didn’t find the skill all that applicable, he focused on another warrior of interest, Dong Ping of the Twin Spears.

Strange for a Warrior to wield two full-length spears, but the story was that Dong Ping’s second spear had been meant for his brother, who died to an ambush from malcontents aiming to steal the unbound weapon for themselves. To honour his fallen brother’s memory, Dong Ping bound the spear and learned to wield both weapons in combat, and the sight was... awkward, to say the least, but not without merit. Grasping them both at the mid-point, Dong Ping’s fingers and wrists worked tirelessly to twirl his spears about, whipping through the air as he slowly made his way across the battlefield. One bump, one misstep, one moment of distraction, and the Peak Expert could easily lose control of his heavy, spinning weapons, and even if he recovered and kept a firm grip, it would take some time to restart his revolving ring of steel. Not the best weapons for this style, since spears were primarily thrusting weapons rather than cutting ones, but Dong Ping succeeded in making this precarious style work. He excelled with it, in fact, which made no sense considering how easy it seemed anyone could interrupt him, but the Peak Expert was a master of Deflection and used it offensively in the most subtle and inventive of ways.

So subtle Hideo didn’t even notice its use until Dong Ping came face to face with a Demon who leapt across the battlefield to tackle him. Barely pausing his steps, the indefatigable Warrior brazenly met the tackling Demon head on, swinging both spinning spears in an upwards arc and striking his foe clean on the chin. The Demon’s face was obliterated upon impact, but while Hideo expected its body to crash into the now stationary Dong Ping, it instead flew up into the air and sailed back from whence it came, coming to a thudding halt amid a crowd of onlooking Defiled. Now this was something Hideo could use, but as he was now, he could only Deflect a thrusting weapon a handful of centimetres at best. Mostly, he used his Deflection to bolster his parries or mitigate his foes’ attempts to do the same, much like so many other Warriors he knew, but Dong Ping had transformed his Deflection into a veritable weapon of its own. This was why no Peak Expert or Demon attempted to interrupt his spinning spears, because given the strength of his Deflection, it was akin to trying to stop a raging flood with a single stone.

Had he not witnessed these feats with his own eyes, then Hideo would’ve been hard pressed to believe them. In fact, even when he played the part of dutiful Disciple, he harboured doubts about Juichi’s ability to truly collapse mountains with a single stomp. It was hyperbole, he thought, right up until he witnessed the old fart tear down a seven-story pagoda with what looked like a casual stomp. The owner had said something nasty about Hideo’s uncles, who made fools of themselves in his establishment by getting drunk and groping the musicians. Nothing too out of line, merely a much deserved scolding, but anyone who knew him understood that Juichi’s useless sons were his reverse scale. Oh what a mess that had been, collapsing the building in the middle of the night after the owner refused to apologize for words spoken in anger, but it did well to remind the world why Mitsue Juichi still held the rank of Colonel General despite having foisted off all his responsibilities to his younger peers.

Hmph. Pride and ignorance, two of the Five Poisons demonstrated for all to see, and Hideo wouldn’t have to work hard to come up with examples of the other three. Old Juichi was a fool undeserving of his rank or status, and Hideo looked forward to seeing him toppled from his lofty perch.

Even with Insights pouring into his mind at an unprecedented rate, this battle raised so many mysteries of the Dao to ponder. How did Song Qing of the Fiery Star emanate light from her meteor hammer without possessing any Blessing to speak of? How was the Jade Armed Craftsman manipulating what looked to be a solid piece of rock and using it as easily as any flesh-and-blood limb? Honed blades and piercing fangs glanced off from the Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s namesake, making it appear as if he truly had scales over his skin, so why did it not do anything against blunt impacts like the smashing strike which almost claimed his life? So many questions, but so few answers, Hideo could hardly wait to meet up with Monk Eyebrows and discuss his new insights into the Dao.

Still, formidable as these Peak Experts might be, all of them, even the seemingly indomitable and invincible Du Min Gyu, paled in comparison to Gongsun Qi.

And Akanai, Hideo supposed, since the half-beast bitch was putting up a good fight, but even with help from her allies, she was unable to bring the Lord of Martial Peace down. She was an impressive Warrior, able to dash about at imperceptible speeds whilst waving her axe-lance about, yet Gongsun Qi matched her blow for blow with his ponderous Green Crescent Dragon Blade. The difference between them both was clear as day, for in every exchange, the Lord of Martial Peace stood firm whilst the half-breed bitch was sent flying away, her speed no match for Gongsun Qi’s raw power. All of their clashes took place in mid air, in order to avoid affecting the battles around them, and time and time again, Akanai was found wanting. Even after another Peak Expert interfered with their duel and delivered a domineering strike from above, Gongsun Qi had the presence of mind to accept Akanai’s formidable follow-up attack with his Runic pauldron. Thus, instead of piercing through his breastplate and impaling him upon her weapon, the half-breed mongrel and her cowardly allies only managed to score an insignificant gash on the Colonel General’s shoulder.

There he stood, battered and bleeding, but unbroken before his foes, his reclining moon blade glimmering in the sunlight as he took his stance once more, surrounded by Demons and Peak Experts of his own while the half-breed Akanai had disappeared from the battlefield. Falling silent as if by mutual agreement, Imperial and Chosen alike separated before turning to face this unstoppable Warrior, a paragon of humanity whom few could match, and Gongsun Qi did not disappoint them. “Is this all the Empire has to offer?” He intoned, casually brushing shards of shattered metal from his injured shoulder without blinking. “Was she, a tribal half-breed doe, your strongest champion? Who else is left for this Prince to battle? Who among you be worthy to face me? Ai, this be a shame. How far the Empire has fallen.” Shaking his head with a sigh, he ground the butt of his weapon into the dirt at his feet and continued, “To think, this Prince sought a challenge here upon the battlefield, but all I see here are cripples, lackeys, and savages led by a man who shows promise, but has come a hundred years too early to face me. So be it then. This Prince has grown weary of your company.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Lifting his left hand high, he signalled the attack, and Hideo’s heart surged with glee as he rode out to attack. The Chosen of Heaven charged with him, as did Vithar’s people and their tribal allies, all joined by a host of monstrous Demons including the most powerful beings who’d thus far been kept in reserve, no doubt a safeguard against Imperial machinations. The time for half-measures was done and now, with their Champion defeated and Commander no match for Gongsun Qi, the Imperial Army’s fate had been all but sealed.

They still made a good fight of it though, as Hideo learned when an explosion of wind and earth erupted behind him. Turning in his seat to see what the commotion was about, he spotted the unmistakable form of Du Min Gyu battling it out with the Lord of Martial Peace amidst the swirling gales of wind and dust, supported by Eccentric Gam, Situ Jia Yang, and a half-bear woman Hideo recognized as one of Falling Rain’s caretakers. It seemed the Bekhai had no human Peak Experts of note, their strength propped up by aged half-breeds who never learned their place, but Gongsun Qi would teach them all the true meaning of regret.

Not alone, of course, since two hands could hardly block four blades, so three Demons joined in to even the odds. One was an armoured guard who traded blows with the shocked half-bear, while the other two were chosen to match the Blessings of the other combatants. Eccentric Gam’s foe was a stone-laden behemoth of an Earth-Blessed Demon, its undefined, pebble-filled form shifting across the mud and grass as if a part of the earth itself. Crashing against the half-fox’s hastily raised defences, its body surged around the staff like a landslide and smashed the aged Eccentric’s torso into the ground, who weathered the attack with ease and fought back with a vengeance. The third Demon was an airy, wisp of a fairy, zipping to and fro upon streams of Wind Chi with its hideous wings, flaps of loose skin which were affixed from forearm to waist. Darting about Du Min Gyu at terrifying speeds, it danced about the formidable Warrior as if daring him to strike, but the Living Legend was not so easily tricked. Responding with gales of cutting wind of his own, he and the Demon raised a windstorm the likes of which Hideo had never seen, neither one injuring the other while swathes of Chosen and Imperials died around them.

Stirring up all manner of loose dirt, blood, and debris, their exchange formed an almost impenetrable barrier Hideo couldn’t see through, so he turned his attention back to the battle at hand. Much as he would like to stay and study the Peak Experts, Hideo’s thirst for knowledge would have to wait as his garo eagerly leapt into battle to trample an Imperial soldier to death. Better if it’d simply charged in and let Hideo smash through the defences, for in its haste, the stupid beast impaled itself upon its target’s spear and was quickly bleeding out. Cursing beneath his breath, he grabbed his long-handled hammer and leapt off his dying mount to put his newfangled Insights into practice.

The hammer was a mundane weapon of steel, one scavenged from an earlier battle because Hideo’s twin Spiritual Maces were too recognizable to use in battle. He still kept them on him, wrapped in oiled leather and slung across his back, but only the most dire of circumstances could bring him to draw them. He also wore a face-plate to hide his features, not because he was ashamed of his ‘betrayal’, especially not after Gongsun Qi and Mataram Yuchun revealed themselves as Chosen of Heaven too. No, he hid his identity because he wanted to see Juichi’s reaction firsthand when the old codger learned that his Disciple had joined the ‘Enemy’, especially once he heard the reason why. Because of his own personal failings, his inability to teach, and most of all, his selfish actions in squashing Mitsue Hiroshi’s reputation, a veritable hero of the Empire left to languish in mediocrity so as not to shame his worthless cousins.

Mitsue Hiroshi was a Dragon among men, and a father who died trying to save his son.

The thought sent a chill down Hideo’s spine as the world spun around him, his mind thrown into disarray by a single thread of truth. No, not truth, Father was misled and mistaken, thinking to save his beloved son from the ‘Enemy’, but this was Hideo’s true Path. He was a Chosen of Heaven and an initiate of the Brotherhood, one who would one day take his vows and devote his life to the pursuit of the Dao.

A pursuit Hideo could not focus on without first severing all ties with his past self.

The heady rush of battle surged through his veins as he gave himself over to Balance, indulging in his lust for battle whilst savouring his fear of death. A curious combination, but one which lent strength to his arms as he brought his scavenged hammer about in a rage, pulping an Imperial soldier who thought to take his head while distracted. The impact travelled up his arms and he relished the sensation, feeding the vibrations with Amplified Reverberations to boost for later use. This was the difference between comprehension and understanding, for before, when he merely comprehended the mechanism behind the Mountain Collapsing Stomp, it took countless hours of long effort to adapt it for use through his mace, but all that had changed with a basic understanding of the move. Oscillation was the key, the regular variation in magnitude of Reverberation around certain key points at exact timings. Once he understood that it was merely a matter of building upon what was already there, gathering momentum without letting it die down, then it became so much easier to visualize his Intent and adapt it for different uses.

Raising his hammer high a second time, he brought it down upon a second Imperial soldier. Lowering his shoulder, he rammed into a third before his foe could bring his weapon to bear. Knocking the fool off his feet, Hideo brought his boot down upon the man’s midsection and relished the sensation of driving his foot through living flesh. If only he wasn’t wearing these restrictive boots and could feel the soft flesh and warm blood against his skin, but perhaps he could try that later when they had Imperial prisoners and time to spare. Whipping his hammer about with both hands, Hideo dove deep into Imperial lines and pounded his foes into mash, being sure to store up the resulting impacts travelling up his arms and use them to feed his ever growing cache of oscillating energy. Not Chi, but physical force, energy he stored within the Spiritual Weapons laid across his back as it fed and grew to titanic proportions.

And just his luck, as soon as the stored oscillating forces threatened to escape his control, Hideo came face to face with an old enemy. “Dastan,” he hissed, and the other man’s brow furrowed in confusion. Enraged by this lack of recognition, Hideo lashed out with a savage backhand and unleashed all his stored energy as soon as he connected with the slave’s Runic shield.

Runes buckled.

Steel bent.

Bones shattered.

And Dastan Zhandos shot away in a blur of motion, smashed aside with a single, bare-handed blow.

Howling with undisguised glee, Hideo followed after the beaten slave to make sure he died, but another of Falling Rain’s Runic shield-bearing soldiers got in his way. Bringing his hammer about, he clipped the stone-faced soldier in the knee but felt a wisp of a Domain surge up to blunt the force, and almost took an axe to the neck for his troubles. Abandoning his hammer, Hideo grabbed the obstructing shield and forced it aside. Three solid punches to the face left his foe with a broken jaw and shattered teeth, but still the bastard clung to consciousness and refused to just die. Grabbing him by the neck, Hideo roared as he lifted his foe overhead in both hands before bringing the fool down across his knee. For his efforts, he was rewarded with a satisfying snap as the slave’s spine broke into pieces, and Hideo savoured the sensation of tender flesh giving way to brittle bone.

A spear lanced towards his throat. As he leapt back, he meant to bring the dying soldier with him to use as a meat shield, but another soldier snatched him out of Hideo’s grasp and brought him away to be Healed. Unfortunate how hardy these soldiers were, as a normal man would’ve died of a broken spine, especially after being wrenched out of his hands, but he could see the slave still breathed, his head turning to burn Hideo’s face into memory. Even Dastan was already back up and about, limping away from the battle with little to no assistance. Though his arm, shoulder, and ribs were broken, his dog life had been preserved, and now Hideo’s vengeance would have to wait once more.

No matter. The slave was living on borrowed time.

Laughing as he avoided the spearman’s second thrust, Hideo forgot himself and unslung his maces as a second spearman joined the first. Brothers from the looks of them, and commoners to boot, their training and Spiritual Weapons unable to hide the leathery texture of their sun-tanned, weather-worn skin. Latecomers to the Martial Path then, but skilled enough to be a decent match, their superb teamwork and coordination doing much to even the playing field. Howling, snarling, snapping Demons plowed through the soldiers around him and Chosen surged into the gaps they left behind, but Hideo was stalemated by his stubborn opponents. Thrust and strike, thrust and strike, the pair lacked any and all originality, but where Hideo would have once looked down on them for this, today, he learned just how far the basic Movements of the Forms could bring a Martial Warrior along the Path. There were Peak Experts of astonishing strength who never exhibited anything even remotely imaginative on the battlefield, yet they still stood head and shoulders above their peers. The Immovable Binesi was one such Warrior, perhaps the most prominent one of this type, and though others looked down on him as a man unable to surpass those above him, he was still a Peak Expert who could defeat anyone below him, of which there were far more of the latter, than the former.

Which was what Hideo told himself to keep from growing overly frustrated at these two bastards’ boring but effective attack patterns. Their timing was too tight and left him no room to retaliate, so instead he set his mind to building up the Mountain Collapsing Strike once more. Each time he blocked a thrust or strike, he siphoned off a portion of the impact to feed his growing power reserves, building it up in anticipation of unleashing an unblockable attack. Which of the two brothers would he kill? The younger one, he decided, because the older one would feel worse for the loss, because an older brother was supposed to protect his younger sister...

A thrust slipped through during a moment of distraction and Hideo rocked back, his heart pounding in his ears as he registered the attack, one which merely slid across his Runic breastplate to no effect. Seizing the advantage, the brothers surged forward, but Hideo was done playing games. Directing his stored force to the tip of his right mace, he unleashed a Mountain Collapsing strike at the younger brother and relished the look on the older brother’s face, so much so that he forgot to even watch his attack connect.

Which was why he missed seeing how the younger brother avoided it.

Off balance from missing an intended strike, the power behind Hideo’s attack slipped out of control and the air exploded from the impact, the force of his strike hurtling out in an impotent burst of compressed air. Even though he landed on nothing, his mace stopped as if it’d struck a steel wall, and as the recoil jolted up his arm, he made a note not to store too much energy like that ever again. The impact was key, because then the stored force had a medium to travel through and the recoil would be lessened. Mentor – no, Juichi had warned him about this repeatedly, which was another reason why he used it as a stomp, because the ground would never move to dodge his attack.

Balance. The razor’s edge. Hideo fought to keep to it, his joy and rage, guilt and shame, fear and excitement warring within as the various emotions pulled him in all different directions. True Balance was powerful, but difficult to maintain, especially considering Hideo missed out on severing a vitally important thread. Dastan Zhandos must die, and it would be best if it was by Hideo’s own hands. Falling Rain was also a troublesome thread, as was Juichi, Watanabe, and all of Hideo’s uncles, aunts, cousins, and whatnot. The entire Mitsue family tree needed to be uprooted, their crimes made known to all, but that was a task for another day.

Right now, he had two common-born Warriors to kill.

The ground exploded behind him as he charged into the fray, Bull Scrapes the Ground into Oriole Takes Flight. Maces humming as they hurtled through the air, he utilized what he learned from watching Dong Ping to Deflect aside the older brother’s guard and aimed to kill the younger again, but again, the troublesome fly avoided the blow faster than Hideo could follow. It wasn’t until he saw his foe reappear several meters back that he finally noticed the Bekhai Warrior behind him, a golden-furred half-monkey with an infuriating grin.

How dare this half-breed interfere not once, but twice with Hideo’s kill.

Driven mad with fury, he blocked the older brother’s spear with the left and aimed to take the bastard’s life with the right, but now it was the older one’s turn to disappear. Again, he reappeared next to his brother, and now there were two spearmen and two golden-furred half-monkeys in sight. Blinking to clear his vision in case he was seeing double, Hideo growled and Sent for aid, a call which was answered by a burst of water which washed all four Warriors away. Lumbering into battle on legs thicker than Hideo’s torso, the pale, putrid, Water-Blessed Demon was a formidable sight to behold. Murky liquid spewed from the gaping slit down its chest, the jagged bones gnashing in a disconcerting mockery of fanged teeth. Swirling around its swollen ankles like a fetid puddle of waste and rot, the putrid fluid surged and roiled while engulfing any Imperial who drew near, even forming tendrils to deal with its more bothersome foes. An Expert arrived to engage the Demon, but was quickly swept into the waters, disappearing beneath the murky waves which barely measured half a metre high.

A burst of dark crimson billowed out from within, only to quickly fade as the current dispersed the contents about the pool, the Demon barely pausing as it sought out another foe.

Frustration mounted as Hideo watched the hulking creature at work, his sport interrupted and his desires unfulfilled. Plotting a course away from the Water Demon, he sought out a new foe to test his mettle against, but the craven Imperials had crumbled before the Chosen’s dedicated assault, and there were no worthy opponents in sight. All were either dead, dying, or otherwise engaged, and anyone who believed themselves a match for the Water Demon was likely too strong for Hideo to challenge.

While looking around for a garo to steal, he heard a rumbling in the distance. Peering up at the sky, he saw no signs of a storm overhead, with blue skies all around and nary a cloud in the sky, yet still the rumbling persisted. Searching the horizon for signs of cavalry or Imperial reinforcements, he only saw infantry locked in combat with Chosen and tribal auxiliaries, with the odd duel between Demon and Slayer. The rumbling grew in both volume and intensity, and the sound of it unnerved Hideo so, because this was not the sound of any force of nature, nor was it the clapping of hooves. No, this was something much different, something he almost recognized, but couldn’t quite identify, only knowing that he had a compelling primal reason to panic.

Then the Royal Guardians dropped their Concealment and the mounted lions let loose a unified roar of challenge, one which shook Hideo to his core and explained why he’d been so instinctually afraid. What he’d heard was the warning growl of apex predators out on the prowl, and today, here on the fields of Central, Hideo was their prey.

The world blacked out for an instant, and when he regained consciousness, everything had shifted around him, for someone had brought him back to safety. Barely able to stand on his feet, he leaned against his saviour and Scryed off into the distance, where he saw an entire mounted contingent of near Peak Experts crash into the Chosen lines and slaughter all who stood before them with laughable ease. The Chosen and Defiled were barely able to stand upright much less mount an effective, coordinated defence, and the Royal Guardians showed no mercy as they rode across the battlefield, with Experts peeling off to engage Demons and retaking lost Imperial ground atop their majestic, black-maned mounts.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and Hideo whirled about to defend himself. Or so he thought. In reality, he merely turned his head as his feet gave out from under him, but Monk Eyebrows was there to catch him. “Peace, Junior Brother,” he said, his tone calm and reassuring. “The lions’ roar caused you grievous internal injuries. I have already fixed the worst of it, including your ruptured ears, but the damage extends to your physical mind, where this Monk dares not Heal. Come, I will bring you to the Wisdom, and he will mend you back to full.”

Hideo tried to nod and thank Eyebrows, but his body would not obey him. Smiling in understanding, the monk lifted him into his arms as gently as could be and carefully nestled Hideo’s head into the crook of his shoulder before heading away to the rear lines, clearing all from his path with a subtle use of Domain, Deflection, and Concealment. “This monk watched Junior Brother on the battlefield,” he began, making light conversation as they went. “A splendid effort and an outstanding opening strike, though this monk suggests you take a lesson or two in riding. What’s more, you must also remember not to let your emotions control you, for too much is as bad as not enough, if not worse. Your foes had aid from stronger Warriors, but fear not Junior Brother, for this monk was readied to do the same, though I must confess, it has been some time since I have done battle myself.”

Hearing how the monk worried over him, Hideo’s eyes welled up with tears. This was probably more care than Hideo’s own father ever showed him until those last few months at the end, and certainly more than Juichi ever had. This was Hideo’s Path now, one he would embark upon with his new family, the Brotherhood, but before he could begin his life anew, he first had to destroy everything he’d left behind.

Beginning with that slave Dastan, and his dog master, Falling Rain, as well as those twin pairs of spear wielding brothers. It shouldn’t be long now. The Imperials were on their last legs, and even the Royal Guardians weren’t enough to turn the tides of battle. All had gone perfectly to plan, and the Imperials had been too arrogant to even consider what to do if things should go awry. There it was again, pride, the downfall of humanity. Truly deserving a place as one of the Five Poisons, but a flaw the Uniter was more than happy to exploit.

Hideo had chosen correctly. No, there had been no other choice. No, this was what he wanted, what he yearned for. Yes. The freedom to start anew.

Closing his eyes, Hideo gave in to exhaustion and hoped for dreams of a newer, better world, one he and the Brotherhood would help shape from the ground up.

Chapter Meme