Zuken drank in his surroundings. Visible around him was the space where Zwaray Keep once stood, now with naught but fragments of its foundation still in place to hint at its former size and grandeur. The floating stone pillars were still there, now reduced to a fraction of their original count. Dozens of buildings laid in ruin, with craters and holes in half of them.. The ground was scattered with pieces of machinery and metal-golems.. The peak of the hill was still intact, maintaining the overall pyramidal shape of the entire Keep.

Just like my mansion.

Exhaling, Zuken rested his back against one of the broken pillars, the feeling of cold stone giving him a moment of relief. Ultaf first removed Zuken's fractals, then shackled him with Cobalt Army manacles. He could still use some terramancy, but anything greater than a Level-1 spell was beyond him at the moment.

All because I refused to give into his tantrums.

All of this… it made no sense. The attack on his mansion had been precipitous and devastating. Ultaf had brought in his grandfather, the mighty Shimizu Warlord, to destroy the more powerful defenses he had in place. Not until they would have lasted after his monstrosities had systematically destroyed the wardstones Zuken had implanted throughout the hill. Part of him wondered how things would have been if he had never taken on the anomaly mission. Never dealt with Tanya, or met Lukas Aguilar. Never denied Ultaf.

“Damn it!”

Zuken looked around. Shortly after his capture, a Level-3 psion had extracted every bit of knowledge he had about Tanya and her current whereabouts. It had been… excruciating, but totally worth it. That the psion had confirmed his own words about Tanya being stranded in the borderland hadn’t made Ultaf happy at all. But it made that sonofabitch let him be without further interrogation.

Or torture.

He could only thank himself for having the foresight to prepare against such an eventuality right from the moment Ultaf had paid him a visit. As someone whose entire field of work lay shrouded in secrecy and vows, Zuken would have been in a lot of trouble if his secrets were pulled out of his mind by the psion.

No matter how agonizing he found the entire process.

Or how angry Elena had been when he had asked her to do it.

His shoulders ached from the heavy manacles on his person. He couldn't even hope to heal his bruised wrists because of the heavy manacles on his person and the lack of lifeforce..

Damn it. He felt so helpless as he gazed at the sky.

Helpless.

How he loathed that word. The last time he had been helpless was back when he was sixteen. Third son to the Earth King, seventh child in order of birth, and as far from ascending to his father’s throne as ever. Even to this day, he remembered standing at the outer gates of Luthar, his father’s capital city, looking at his mother as she bid him her last words.

…

“You have no power,” she had said as she grabbed his arms. “The gift of your father’s bloodline is absent in your blood, and the Great Progenitor abandoned you herself. Even the peasants that serve us have more potential than you. As you are, any great skills or titles will be beyond you. Nor do you possess any unusual talent with a blade. Your faith in the Pantheon is a flickering flame. All you have is this.”

She tapped his temples.

“This is the only thing you can use,” she told him. “Your father, and the Empire, believes in the supremacy of lifeforce and mana. But I’ve taught you differently, have I not? Lifeforce and mana are but tools for your mind to solve problems. The mind is the more important part of the set.”

The little boy nodded.

“Listen, Zuken,” said his mother. “I do not hate you, but this world is harsh, as cruel as it is unforgiving. It is not a place where the weak can survive in, but a place where the strong reigns alone. And you can never be strong. Not in lifeforce, nor in mana.”

The little boy clenched his fists. He didn’t want to hear the harsh truths his mother was saying, but that didn’t make her words any less true.

“There are only one of two things you can do, dear boy,” she said, playing with his hair. “Take the fortune I’ve gifted you and leave. Go far, far away. Leave an ordinary life, accomplish ordinary goals, and seek ordinary happiness. For the Earth King’s world has no place for the likes of you, it is only for the strong.”

The boy waited, tears in his eyes.

“Or,” said his mother, her voice firmer than before, “use your mind. Even if it is all you have, even if you cannot fight your own battles, you can still become strong. And when you do, find a way back.”

…

Zuken’s eyes regained their focus as he returned to the present. Lowering his sights from the sky, he turned to look at what was around him. The broken walls, the shattered cantonments, the svartalfar community lay in ashes. A civilization whose foundations lay not in their power, but in their ingenuity. And once again, a tempest of pure strength had blown ingenuity apart.

How long? Just… how long will this continue?

Over the years, he had developed his mind. His ability to harvest Soul Capacity was pretty damned low, no thanks to his low Experience-Conversion-Ratio. As a result, he had to put ten times the effort as the other Asukans to gain the same soul capacity as they did. He couldn’t afford to wield a powerful kami, so instead he chose a weak, albeit versatile one. One whose skills lay not in power, but in trickery.

But that didn’t mean he was weak.

What use was lifeforce when he had hundreds of warriors at his command? What use was mana when he could hire powerful spiritists to do his bidding?

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

As for his strengths, he had his mind. His greatest strength of all.

But even that mind had failed before the might of a warlord.

No. He told himself. Not failed. Merely suffered a setback. I’m alive. Elena is alive. Same for Olfric. Despite everything that’s happened, Ultaf is no closer to finding Tanya. And the Outsider…

He frowned.

What was his name again? Speaking of which, why can’t I remember how to summon my forces?

Then he smiled. Oh right, of course I wouldn’t remember.

It was all part of the plan.

He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself. He needed to move on—

Wait.

Is this… is this really the appropriate reaction?

That bore thinking. After all, his castle had been destroyed. They had butchered his men. Detonated his hill. The psion had raped his mind, and extracted whatever he thought was useful. And finally, the svartalfar keep, where they were experimenting on the featherglass sample he had gained — his one solid way to attain true power — was now in shambles. And yet, despite all that, his first thought was to move on? As if none of it mattered? As if the event was an after note?

Shouldn’t I be… angry?

Wasn’t he supposed to feel anger at being tortured? Shouldn’t he be sad that all his developments and research were gone, and he was back at Square One? Shouldn’t the setback make him feel upset? Shouldn't he be frustrated at his weakness? Shouldn’t he feel depressed he didn’t know what to feel?

Had he just become so accustomed to his own suffering that he felt it was inevitable?

No.

He stood up.

I’ve invested too much in this. The world is horrid. I always knew that. A setback, even one like this, will not push me back. I will not give up.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Alright Zuken. You’re a reasonably brilliant young man with no lifeforce and miserable specks of Earth-mana. Your task is to find a way that gets you power over Ultaf Shimizu, who has an army of spiritists, monsters and warriors and a warlord at his beck and call. So, first question, can you gain the strength necessary to defeat him?”

The answer was obvious.

No, with a ‘chance in hell’ suffix. In capitals.

“Can you make him weaker?”

Now that was more reasonable. Weakening the enemy wasn’t necessarily dependent upon your own strength. Ultaf did not lack power or authority. Having a warlord, an entire army and the status of a Sacred Eight did all of that for him.

That left two options.

First, use his fear against him.

And second, use his pride against him.

But how?

A sudden commotion distracted him from his mental meanderings. He watched as six svartalfars walked out of a tent, carrying a seventh strapped to a plank. The creature was athletic, heavier on muscle and a war veteran, if the scars on his body were of any sign. His mouth was partly open, with dark blood dripping from his tongue. He whimpered softly, the sound of it more like an animal in horrible pain.

“Pathetic!” sneered Ultaf, walking into Zuken’s vision from the right. The Shimizu general crossed his arms across his chest and stared down at the svartalfars, happily ignoring the hostile stares sent his way. “That fool was stupid enough to storm into my tent and try to kill me.”

He looked at Zuken and barked out a laugh. “Pathetic little thing couldn’t even last an hour of torture. Hardly enough time for a prelude. And they said that svartalfars were tough little assholes.”

Zuken stiffened, but refused to show any fear or hesitation on his features. “Why are you doing this, Ultaf? What do you hope to achieve?”

The man’s smug expression faltered ever so slightly to annoyance. “Disappointing. Your memory is not up to expectations. I want the creature out of that borderland, imprisoned and down on her knees for me.”

The creature. He doesn’t even consider her bremetan.

“I get that, but why? What does she bring to the table that you’re doing all this?”

“All this?” Ultaf repeated, as if he had heard something ridiculous. “Banksi, you of all people must realize it. I’m the acting-Lord of Shimizu, member of the Sacred-Eight. So long as it does not break our vows to the Emperor and the Pantheon, there is nothing sacred I cannot violate to get what I want. And anyone that gets in my way will have to suffer the consequences.”

Zuken looked at him speculatively. “Ultaf, are you… quite sure this is the route you want to take? I’m the unwanted child of the Earth King. But the svartalfars have a standing accord with the Empire. Do you fully understand how much you are… escalating things?”

Ultaf moved closer to him with a superior expression. “The svartalfars could have surrendered and granted us complete access to their well. But they didn’t. They attacked me and mine, and that is unforgivable.”

Crude. And such pointless malice. Zuken thought. It’s like he has no goals beyond just making everyone grovel before him, and he doesn’t care how many enemies he makes in the process. Has Mujin Shimizu intentionally ruined his own grandson?

“You came to their territory demanding things you had no right over,” he said. “Is it not natural for them to take offense?”

Ultaf smiled victoriously. “And now they know the price of their actions. Their defenses shattered, their buildings destroyed, their people slaughtered by me and mine. I’ve told this before, Banksi. I’m a Shimizu. You’re with me or against me. And we Shimizu always target the enemy’s greatest weakness. It is the secret of winning in Asukan warfare. Your greatest weakness is your compassion for weaklings and half-breeds.” He gestured towards the crowd before him. “Their greatest weakness is their population.”

Zuken crooked an eyebrow at that. Always target your enemy’s greatest weakness, eh? I wonder who taught you that. The secret of victory in war is to always target the enemy’s greatest weakness, but always from the shadows, lest you invite his strongest reprisal.

He glanced at the broken, battered, angry svartalfars around him, before turning back at Ultaf.

Do you really understand what sort of reprisal you’re inviting right now?

Zuken and Ultaf engaged in a stare-off for a few seconds before Zuken deflated and looked down, beaten and submissive. “Alright. You win. How’s… this for a gesture? Let me go talk to the svartalfars. See if I can make them see sense. Just… do not kill any more of them until I am done.”

Ultaf sneered. “What makes you think you can do any better?”

“Well your way hasn’t worked now, has it?” Zuken interrupted calmly. “Despite all the slaughter, you don’t have Tanya out of that borderland. Maybe my brand of diplomacy will have some luck?”

“Your compassion for someone obviously beneath you is a weakness, Banksi. One would have thought that losing your mansion would have taught you that. A real Asukan would have never made himself as vulnerable as you have.”

“Maybe,” Zuken admitted. “But I’d not have a full-on massacre on my conscience if I can help it. Give me some time, and if I fail, what’s stopping you from killing them all?”

Ultaf glared at him for a few moments. “Fine. But remember this well, Banksi. If you try something against me, you’ll be joining the dead.”

Zuken smiled. “In that case, I have my work cut out for me then, don’t I? Mind if I get started?”