> In the middle of this universe is the great holy mountain Mount Dakmala, the center of the world.

>

> The Mountain Dakmala is made of the strongest stone and otherworldly iron. It is 80,000 yojanas tall and 80,000 yojanas deep below sea level. It is the nail of the world: the four other continents are pinned down to it.

>

> Mount Dakmala has never been actually seen, other than by those truly Awakened. It is surrounded by the Circular Mountain: a ring of iron mountains that protect it. Another ring of Elder Iron mountains encircles the entirety of the Four Oceans. There are 12 Continents in all in the Lotus Realm. Four Great Continents shaped like a petal and placed on each cardinal direction, and each four great continent has two orbiting continents.

>

> Hri Madalaya's "A Treatise On This Spirit World's Cosmogony"

The Resting House stood tallest in the monastery compound, built against the walls of the mountain. It had four roofs, which denoted three separate levels. Its roofs flanged open, had crests that curved up and out from each corner, the tips of their wood were carved into draconic shapes. The roof itself sloped steeply, heavily gabled, and these ones were made of adobe instead of the usual lighter cogon, bamboo, or wood that would be common in lowland societies, where hot spirits, water spirits, and hot wind spirits ruled and danced.

As they entered, a pair of exiting nuns bowed to both Yiwaritala and Raxri. They bowed in return, returning the mouth reverence. When they were far enough past them, the two nuns giggled, and then continued to talk.

"Follow me, dear Raxri. The guest rooms are on the first level, so as to not inconvenience them." Yiwaritala led Raxri past a room held steadfast with 16 thick hardwood pillars, with the same engravings of story and myth into them. Demigods wielding bows of light, octopus monsters fighting with eight different weapons, compassionate Saints stopping great demon elephants and corrupted crocodiles from destroying entire villages and cities. All of these showcasing great strengths and powers above all else. All of these symbols of the culture of the monks. And not even that, they were symbols of the cultures of the surrounding areas, for the Infinite Law never erases, only builds upon.

The floor was made of bamboo slats, though somehow lacquered and layered. As with almost every other house in the Utter Islands, getting into the house required climbing a set of stairs that led to a front elevated porch. Raxri couldn't see anything from the first floor, no seams in the slats to see what they kept underneath, whether it was livestock or something else.

Upon the floor were set up woven sleeping mats, most of them made of palm leaves, dyed with the colors indigo, scarlet, white, gold, and black. In truth, almost every corner of the monastery was wrapped in some sort of streaker or banneret that had those five colors. These sleeping mats also had a single sheet of tie-dyed cloth set on top of them, and then two pairs of pillows with bushy down. No mosquito net for each, but Raxri concluded that high up here the mosquitos were probably more sparse.

The smell of incense was much weaker here. Instead, it smelled like fresh laundry, a strong generic floral scent that eased the mind. They used a different kind of flower or precious stone for their fresh clothes here. Raxri wondered where they washed their clothes here. Though it being a mountain, no doubt a source for one of the many rivers began from here.

Eventually they crossed the entirety of the floor, at the end of which there were two lotus-shaped incense bowls, set in front of statues of the Four-Armed Awoken, looking with true serenity upon their eyes.

Yiwaritala opened a woven palm door that led into a very spacious room, cozy, with a very comfortable mattress set on the floor atop the handwoven sleeping mat. It was much larger than the blankets afforded the ascetics outside, and it was neatly folded with its own multi-colored blanket and two rectangular pillars of woven silk. On top of that, it was wrapped in a mosquito net made colored bright white!

"Please, make yourself at home here. Do not hesitate to ask one of the monks for tea if one wishes."

"A-ah. Yes. Thank you." This place does look way too comfortable compared to what everyone else is sleeping on. There must be some kind of mistake. "Monk Yiwaritala, if it's all right to ask. That bed looks much too comfortable... I'm no king or prince!"

"Ah, worry not, student Raxri," replied Yiwaritala. "All monks must practice these austerities to help them along their Realization Path. You are a guest, and so you must rest comfortably, here. Worry about it not, you trouble no one, in truth."

Raxri bowed by their waist and bit their lip. "Thank you..."

"Cast aside your worries, warrior. Ah, one last thing, Raxri Uttara, before I leave."

"Hm?" Raxri stood.

"What do you think power is?"

"Power?" Raxri looked to the ceiling. "I've... never thought much about it before. I wish I could say something smarter."

"Do you think you gain power by mastering martial arts, so you can subjugate others under your will?"

"U-uh..." In truth, Raxri truly hadn't thought about it much before. Martial arts... it was something they knew they needed in this Latter Day of the Law, where banditry and violence run rampant, wielded not by enlightened beings but as a crude tool by the basest of men. "I... seek the martial arts so that I can protect those I care about."

"That is power yet, would you not agree?" asked Yiwaritala. At that moment, Yiwaritala felt taller. His psychic immensity dwarfed Raxri's nigh ignorant thinking. "To protect those you care about is to wield the will of vanguard. To wield the will of vanguard is to subjugate the will of the spear against you and yours' flesh. So you seek power for your own means?"

Raxri bent their head to the side. They couldn't answer. They felt that if they said yes, they were committing a major moral fault. Especially here in a monastery. Though, of course, at that moment, Raxri knew almost nothing about the true tenets of the Liberation Law that permeates every function of the double-reality.

And so Raxri said: "I... don't know."

There was an air of disappointment radiating off of Yiwaritala's gaze. "Very well. Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable. Have a good sleep. Beautiful evening." And then Yiwaritala closed the door.

Raxri made a face and then shrugged. "Strange." They turned around and removed their cloak and their sarong, wearing only their loincloth.

The cold night air here was far far colder than the cold night air down upon Akazha's. A chill resided here, almost sinister. Raxri was not used to it: they had gotten accustomed to the heat and humidity, adapted to it. Learned to love the benefits of humidity upon the skin constantly keeping it looking young. The intermingling of the sun's heat and general warm earth with the chill of the winds that ran through them, sometimes mixed with the sudden rains that brought even more coolness to the environment. It was a delicate interplay of balance. It was one that reminded the humans that lived there that the world was not made for them.

Truly, this world is not made for us. We only borrow our lands here in the world of spirits, cursed with limited sight of the very beings that dance about us all around due to our baser enlightenments.

Raxri sat on the bed. They wrapped heavy cloth cotton blanket around them. It soothed their skin, chilled them. I have to wake early at dawn, thought Raxri. I need to shower. Though the relative coolness of the mountaintops prevented too much sweat from pooling about their cavities, they still longed for the freshness that soaking in waater and scrubbing themself brought.

The telltale smell of lively trees and healthy soils danced about and intermingled with the light aromas of the incense that sat within a lotus shaped incense bowl, set atop a low table beside Raxri's bed.

Outside the window, Raxri saw the great Godtree. Its silvered leaves beamed down upon the world. Its strange, iridescent bones made it look like a streak of titanic lightning, slowly coming down from the sky and spreading across the earth. Never to dissipate, never to finish its strike. There to ever be a sign of the end. Or perhaps, of the beginning? Fires begin from lightning strikes. Soil is nourished by lightning strikes.

A shadow flew across the iridescence of the Godtree. Long and slender, a river sailing across the sky. Upon closer inspection, this river had multiple branches emanating from it, like streamers or floating sashes. Upon even closer inspection, Raxri could make out that it was some sort of dragon, now rushing across the world. Its eyes glinted as it realized something was watching it. Its draconic eyes sighted Raxri a multiple dragon lengths away.

Raxri, wishing not to offend the great dragon, performed the crown obeisance. When they looked up, the dragon had flown off, to trounce and splash among the clouds.

Then, Raxri heard the howl.

Something jolted them immediately: The dog demons... they wish to strike the monastery... Though Raxri's anxieties immediately calmed when they realized they'd beaten back a good chunk of them. They'll have plenty of time to inform the abbot of this.

They lay down, and chose to sleep. At first it was mighty difficult. But when they focused on the wisping smoke that arose from the incenses, carrying thoughts and prayers to the heavens where the bliss gods lay... they dozed off quickly enough.

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In the great mist of the night, as the last few incenses burnt out... the great head abbot Wairojashra of Giant Stone Monastery rose to his feet after having finished his austerities. Having been so deeply entrenched in the Monastic Path, they required much less sleep than the usual wanderer. Using lotus lights, he slept far later: at the zenith of the moon, when most would sleep at the first sight of it, and wake before the sun even rises.

After he performed his triple prostrations to the great Termagant Buddha, Yiwaritala appeared behind him. Yiwaritala had always been the Head Abbot's Left Hand Man, his closest secretary. When he arrived, the head abbot turned, still with that serene look on his face. He smiled slightly.

"What shall we do with Raxri Uttara, master?"

Walking out of the meditation house, he said, "There is a great reserve of accumulation within them. They are still on the path, but without their memory, they will wither upon it. They will reap the fruits of their merits and karma, but they will not understand it."

"Does the great teacher believe that that Raxri Uttara they once met is still the Raxri Uttara now?"

Head Abbot Wairojashra stopped beside Yiwaritala and gestured for him to walk with him. They did, performing the last few rounds making sure that the monastery was safe and secure, locking doors and replacing the beams across the gates.

"Nay, dear student. They are no longer that Raxri Uttara. But it is in the void where enlightenment resides. This Raxri Uttara... guidance might just be their salvation. Instead of stepping into the river to enlightenment, they can ride the lightning to Extinction."

The next day, Raxri was awoken into darkness.

"What--"

The door had swung open, and Yiwaritala was there, still clad in his monk robes. He said: "Forgive me, dear Raxri Uttara. But the abbot wishes to speak with you."

Raxri rubbed the night dirt out of their eyes. They felt like they had slept enough anyways. Raxri nodded and said, "I shall get changed."

Yiwaritala entered into the door and placed a neatly folded stack of clothes in front of them. "You will be wearing these."

"A-Ah. I see. Many thanks." Raxri bowed.

"It would do you well to bathe before you change. The mountain stream is just behind this house, there is a door here that will lead you there. Tarry not too long, this is of great import."

Raxri swallowed and bowed again. Yiwaritala left.

"Huh." Raxri sighed. Sudden, but I suppose enlightening enough. The stack of clothes before them seemed to be monk's robes. Though these were not colored the bright scarlet that Yiwaritala bore. These were a set of loose-fitting sarouels, reed slippers, a sleeveless tunic, and then an undyed gray robe to wrap it all about them. Raxri was thankful for this, as the cold of the mountain would've made moving without the warmth of a robe almost debilitating.

Raxri removed their own robes and tunic and pulled up their sarong so that it covered them from their chest down. There was a fresh cloth towel there as well, which they took. They walked out of their room door, and immediately to their right was another set of large, swinging doors.

Raxri went out of that door which led to the open air back of the house, which also just so happened to be where streams from the mountaintops flowed down to. There were other early riser students here that were now bathing, though they bathed farther away from the mountaintop.

Raxri noticed then that there were two baths: one closer to the house, where no steam arose from. Then another further from the house, following down a set of stone stairs carved onto the soil, that led to a small grove of bamboos. That one was a hot spring, Raxri noticed. And that was why the majority of the students were bathing there: it was too cold to bathe in the cold spring at this time of morning!

The night sky was the color of brightening indigo, as the sun slowly rode its chariot above the sky. The smell of morning dew was overpowering, and somewhat lulled Raxri to even more sleep. They fought it off, however, as they descended down the stairs and into the steamy hot springs.

The hot springs area had multiple different pools, at least 8, each one with a floral aroma. It was as if the water itself was suffused with a certain cleansing, good-smelling quality. Though there were students here now, there wasn't too many that Raxri was struck by shyness. They removed their sarong and descended into the waters, rinsing themselves.

Nearby, a smoothened piece of pumice was there to be used by those bathing. Raxri took one and scrubbed off the dirt they had accumulated from their travels. They also twisted and wrapped and suffused their cloud-hair with fragrant oils, imbuing them with an irresistible, vanilla-flower fragrance.

As they bathed, Raxri noticed that there was no splitting between the sexes here. The bald male monks bathed nearby the bald female monks, without any dividers. Raxri decided that it was just as well: it would be a testament to their enlightenment and practice to have such a setup. A testament true to the culture of their monastery.

Raxri also noticed that the students didn't relax in the baths. All they did was the absolute minimum they needed to do to clean themselves, oil themselves, scrub off their dirt and soften their skin. Then, they would immediately rise and cover themselves in their towels and textiles and then immediately leave. The curriculum here had to have been strict.

Raxri smiled. No way were they going to last here. It's a good thing I'm not becoming a monk, then.

Raxri returned smelling great. The fresh and clean air of the mountain only strengthened their smell. In truth, the resting house itself smelled "holy". It was the mix of jasmines, vanillas, and incense smells that infused it with a certain pure property. It felt as if every step you took, you were stepping upon a realm of an Awoken.

Raxri dressed. The monk's robes fit perfectly. A little bit too perfectly. They used a string to tie their hair into a chignon on top of their head. Raxri decided to leave their items and belongings within this guesthouse, seeing as it would've been too clunky and heavy to bring anyway. And in truth, it wasn't much. Now that their longknife had been destroyed, they had almost nothing to their name other than a few pieces of food and their clothings. They left behind their salakot and textile robe. They had a good feeling that they would return here.

With everything ready, they set off.

The sun burned the night sky into silver. In its own cursed way, it heralded the dawn. In fear, the cocks crowed, tearing through the silence. Even in the monastery, the omnipresence of the crow was to be applauded. Despite this, the crows were far, deep in the jungle. No doubt they were jungle fowl.

And so they followed the Forest's Laws. And so they revered the enlightenment of the Awoken.

The monastery was not abuzz at this time, not just yet. Raxri determined that it was still a bit earlier than the usual wakening time. But now, there were already a surplus of students already milling to and fro, going to their assigned stations, reading their sutras. To be in an environment that encouraged only the practice toward liberation... the students here valued their time.

Raxri couldn't help but notice that a good mix of people were here. There was a good mix of monks and nuns. Some were corpulent, others were stick thin. Others were pale, as if chilled to the bone, others were the beautiful darkness of night, though most were that standard color of wood bark. Others were built like athletes, others were built like bandits. Some of them were missing teeth, others had teeth blackened, others had teeth plated with gold. Some of them seemed to walk with the yet unforgotten grace of a noble, others walked with the humility of a servant, others with the braggadocio of a beggar.

All of them wore robes of varying degrees of color. Many of them wore the signature scarlet, some wore a bright saffron color. Others wore the same monochrome gray that Raxri themself wore at that moment. They set about to inquire about this color ranking with the abbot.

Inside the meditation house, monks and nuns had already begun their austerities. Bowing thrice, and then sitting on floor cushions and assuming various sitting positions, with hands in various mudras. Palm leaf manuscripts of the prayers and scriptures laid in front of them upon their wooden table. They chanted a mantra in chorus. The Great Light Prayer, which asked the Illumination to turn the chanter into a being of pure light so that they may explore the bounds of non-existence, and so that they can become ever closer to the blazing realization of Awokenhood.

To Raxri, it was just interesting chanting in chorus with little gongs that were struck to make sounds like a xylophone. In conjunction with the tranquility of the morning, the chants pierced Raxri's very core, and they almost felt bad for not kowtowing at that moment to the Awoken.

Yiwaritala and Head Abbot Wairojashra were there at that moment, seemingly waiting for Raxri. When they spotted Raxri, they nodded and approached.

"Follow us," said Yiwaritala, and Raxri did so.

They ventured out of the monastery itself, walking around the mountain side for a good few minutes. The air here was still so cool. Raxri held onto their gray robe as they walked. At times Raxri was sure they would slip and fall down the side of the mountain, but no. This mountain path was well trodden. In fact, Raxri conjenctured that it was carved onto the side of the mountain for the monks themselves.

They were silent all the while. With every step they took, a gravity clad Raxri. They felt as though they were walking into their own grave.

They arrived at another grove of bamboos and trees that grottoed away three mountain streams that joined to become a slight river. The land here was solid: they had placed stones about this very place. A spirit shrine stood at the edge of the stone platform. It was decorated with very flanged roofs, made to look like it was made of solid fire. Within it was a bronze statue of the Scarlet Awoken. It was placed in the middle of a mandala, and at the southern edge of the mandala was a porcelain plate, where incense, jasmines, and uncooked rice grains were offered.

Yiwaritala and the Abbot performed three crown reverences to the spirit shrine. Raxri couldn't help but do the same. Then, the Abbot said: "Raxri Uttara."

Raxri bowed to the abbot as well. "Y-Yes, abbot."

"Let us sit."

And so they did. There were patches of soft grass here. The bamboos and trees provided a thick canopy against the rising morning sun.

As the three of them sat, the abbot said: "You do not remember who you are in truth."

Raxri nodded. "I would never lie to the abbot, of one so committed to the Law."

"If this be the full truth, then understand you this. You are no longer that Raxri Uttara."

Raxri was quiet. They waited for the abbot to follow up their statement.

"Have you made peace with this?"

Raxri nodded. Whether it was true or not didn't matter to them. They had to make peace with the fact whether they liked it or not.

"Good. Then you must become a new Raxri Uttara. Do you understand? Void of your past accomplishments, void of your past accumulations, of your past cultivations. Are you willing, now, to start from the beginning? That long journey across the wheel? The Royal Road of Enlightenment?"

Raxri nodded again. "I would want no other way."

"It will be a long and arduous road. You will have to travel across the islands. Find your past masters, or find new ones, and ask for the transmission of their powers once again. Only then will you grow your capability. Only then will you become greater than the Raxri Uttara that you were before."

Raxri kept nodding. "I will!" I have no other choice. I must do this.

"Tell me, then," said the Abbot. As they spoke, their voice seemed to echo, to cry out from every direction, crying upon the thousand winds that wound about them. The little gods that watched them at that moment, interested, tellurian and celestine all, seemed to cry out every Abbot's word, as if in echo. More than mere punctuation, more than mere divinity. "What spurs you on?"

But it was not the abbot's voice.

Raxri looked up at the Abbot. Instead of the Abbot, however, they saw a God of Gods. A wild-eyed, grinning being with the skin the color of the night, hair trailing behind them gloriously. A tigerskin pelt wrapped around their waist, their tunic reached the ground. Their third eye stared and pierced Raxri's very being. In one hand they wielded frozen lightning, held fast by a vajra. In the other hand they kept their hand in a mudra. The gods that watched kowtowed.

"Wh-what..."

"What is thy wish? Greater than all obsession, greater than all desire, greater than all ambition! Hm!" They billowed scarlet smoke from their gigantic nostrils. A Thus-Come-And-Gone sat upon a lotus throne, a Lord for all to see. They were flanked by dakinis, heaven dancers watching all about, manifestations of their bladed enlightenment. Their skin was a bright red, their hair the color of bright sapphires. Their eyes danced with enlightenment, and four hands performed a different mudra each. Their furious eyebrows scowling, they screamed at Raxri without moving their mouth. "Speak your reason! If you are to become a God Worshipped by God, your reason must be greater than all lightnings!"

"I... I wish to help all beings!" Razri let the vow flow out of them. "If I were to lose my memory again, then I would want to leave this world having made it better than when I entered it."

"Speak truth!"

"I must save all beings and destroy suffering!"

"AHOM!" Lighting struck from heaven, and ten thousand thunders destroyed the grove all about them. Raxri, at the point of ultimate destruction, was blasted into emptiness.