> To inscribe stories upon one's skin, some might argue, is an act of attachment or craving. This is wrong view. It is no less different than brandishing a blade. That is to say, the tattoos are but skillful means to remember one's path down the royal road of enlightenment.

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> The Treatise on the Death of God and Ego

Inside the cottage, a giant altar immediately greeted Raxri, burnished a humungous, nigh-human sized statue of an Awoken. A tongue of flame was molded out of gold atop their crowned head. He had upon his face the half-lidded look of serenity endemic to all Awoken. Their body was clad in robes that fell to their ankles, and nothing more. This Awoken statue sat in the lotus position, with one hand raised pointing to the heavens, and another slightly touching the earth. Which, in this context, was the floor of Ampun Sagara's cottage.

Surrounding the Awoken, all about the wide altar, were multiple palm leaf paintings of various other deities, others Awoken of names unknown to Raxri, many of them Saviors, even more of them Saints. Arrayed they were as if they were an assembly, listening to the Awoken. Beside each Awoken were three sets of flowers: lotuses of all colors, though they were overwhelmingly azure, scarlet, and ivory white. Not just lotuses, there were also jasmines, the death flower, and hibiscuses, the life flower.

Before the statue of the giant Awoken was a lotus-shaped incense bowl. Three sticks stood tall from it, smoke wafting slowly and lowly.

In front of the table, slightly lowered, was a cushioned seat embellished to look like a lotus throne. Then, before the lotus seat, was a sapphire blue cotton carpet, brocaded with an interesting pattern: it looked like multiple ripples upon a pond intersecting and interpenetrating, creating other new ponds.

On both sides of the altar were the two windows, fully opened. The flurrious cold winds danced through.

Raxri realized then what the fragrance was. A unique interblending and intermixing of the smell of flowers, incenses, and the natural smell of bamboos and damp grass. It was an aroma that invited serenity and serendipity.

"Welcome," said Ampun Sagara, their tone reverent. "As someone riding the lightning, it would be wise of you to do your prostrations."

"Ah, right. Forgive me, I almost forgot." Raxri had been taught this by the Abbot. If in front of a giant altar, not just a shrine, of an Awoken complete with palm leaf paintings and an assembly of other enlightenment beings, the proper course of action was to perform three prostrations. Crown reverence, then mouth reverence, then heart reverence, then fall onto one's knees and bow. While bowing, raise one's hands. This was the proper reverence to the wisdom of the Thus-Come-And Gone. Raxri did it properly.

"Good. You've been taught well."

"Tattooist Ampun. Who is the Awoken placed there? Forgive me for my ignorance."

Ampun Sagara shook his head. "Worry not about it. It is from ignorance that enlightenment must arise, as taught by the Tutelary Awoken of this Kalpa," Ampun gestured to the statue. "Victorious Sage Awoken."

"Oh, I see. How humbling." Raxri could do nothing but stare.

Ampun Sagara nodded. They walked over to a work table, where various pokers and inks of differing colors lay, neatly organized. "It truly is," he said, rifling through his pokers. Each poker was intricately designed: the blade resembled a flame, the handles resembled snaking dragons, or rising phoenixes. "He is a Conqueror of this kalpa, after all."

"A Conqueror?"

"Conqueror Awoken are those Awoken that have awakened to the truth of Emptiness in a world where there were no teachings to guide them," said Ampun Sagara. "In every kalpa, there are usually only three Conqueror Awoken. One for its Earlier Days, one for its Middle Days, and one for its Latter Days. The Conqueror Awoken's duty is to re-establish the teachings of the Eternal Law once it has dissipated from humanity due to the slow violence of time. The teachings of the Eternal Law, and the Eternal Law themselves, are Eternal. Conquerors are always on the Cusp of Enlightenment before their final reincarnation, bringing with them the teaching into a land lawless. Conqueror Awoken are separate from Savior Awoken in the sense that their holy duty is to show Extinction so that others may attain it. Savior Awoken then reveal themselves after a Conqueror Awoken fulfills their duty."

"What heady business," said Raxri, thinking all the while.

"Do not worry overmuch," said Ampun Sagara. A small lotus-shaped candle bearer buirned near him. He heated the poker's blades over it. "That cosmology is only really revealed to those on the Thunderbolt Path. Such knowledge is, in truth, not required for eventual Liberation. Unless, of course, one takes on the Savior's Vows."

This one Raxri did not understand. Before they could ask, however, Ampun Sagara walked over to the altar, bowed thrice, and then sat on the lotus chair before it. They were facing Raxri. "Now, come. And take off your tunic."

"Ah. R-Right." Raxri removed their monochrome robes, which they diligently washed every two days. They also removed their tunic, but kept on the gray sarong that allowed them to move freely. They had developed considerable muscle ever since training, but all the muscle was smooth and straight. Their athletic body only became more refined, but they were muscular in the soft way that a runner would be, and not bulky like a perfecter of mountain arts. Raxri became self conscious all of a sudden, their hands covering their breasts. When they looked at Ampun Sagara, they found that he was busy rearranging the colored inks across their table, which was to their right.

"Come," said Ampun Sagara, beckoning to Raxri. The cloud-haired one nodded and walked over, sitting in front of Ampun Sagara. "I will be beginning from the back of your shoulders, and then going down to your elbows. Shagara's Pillars run down both sides, so it will take some time."

"What do I do while you paint me?" asked Raxri.

Ampun Sagara said: "Meditate and contemplate. Concentrate on the pain, as I work my way through you. Let nothing distract you from it. Through it, clear your mind, through pain attain right meditation. Through it, realize emptiness." The tattooist stared at Raxri Uttara directly into their eyes.

Raxri gulped and nodded. Though at this point they were more than used to pain, Ampun Sagara's intensity disquieted them anyway.

"Good," said Ampun Sagara. He lifted his poker and applied oil to the sections of Raxri's right shoulder where their blade was going to poke first. Then, he dipped the poker into black ink. As he did, he chanted lowly, under their breath, the appropriate mantras for the transferrence of power.

Raxri inhaled sharply. Ampun Sagara's hands were surprisingly soft and cold as it ran up Raxri's spine, then the blade of their shoulder, then upper ridge of their shoulder. More surprisingly was the softness of Raxri's skin. Somewhat supple, not solid stone like many mountain-lifters. Instead, theirs was the illusory tenderness of a sheathed blade.

Ampun Sagara said: "Fold your hands over your heart, and lean forward slightly." Raxri bit their lip and did so. Them in that prayerful position only enhanced the feeling of the ritual, and Raxri couldn't help but sink deep into the ritual's esotery. Suddenly, as they sat at the middle of the circle of rippling circles, they felt like the subject of a mandala. They were the ruling deity placed at the center, from which power emanates. They were made to be the center of that reality. They were made to be a god, or a Buddha.

Is this what emptiness was? Realizing you are all those things? But also realizing that all those things were you all along, and thus shattering the subject-object dichotomy?

The poker's blade struck deep. Ampun Sagara had begun their work. As they tapped, they chanted all the while, mantras of esoteric power. They sealed the vows and protections of Shagara's Pillars upon Raxri's skin.

The pain was small but deadly. A little knife cut itself into Raxri's skin and then broke free just before it would puncture muscle. It was this but again and again, over and over the same region of skin or somewhere close to it. Raxri breathed to get their muscles to relax, but some times the blade would hit a tender spot and they would inhale sharply again. At times, the ink upon Ampun Sagara's poker blade would finish, all transferred onto Raxri. They would dip their blade upon the ink again and continue, pulling Raxri back into the realm of pain.

Over and over, pain rose and fell, rose and fell. Through it all, Raxri maintained their heart reverence, and through it all Ampun Sagara continued to chant the mantra. It was a meditation for both of them. In a sense, they were both cultivating their Wills as this happened. A dual cultivation of sorts.

As it went on, however, and as Raxri sank deep into their concentrative fires, they found the pain of the blade to slowly fade away. It would strike, and the emotion of pain would run through them, but then as with any mindfulness practice, they would quickly let the pain dance away. Like how happiness would dance away, like how anger would dance away, like how sorrow would dance away. The pain traveled from Raxri's shoulder down to their right bicep as Ampun continued, finishing Shagara's Pillars on one side.

Then, almost as suddenly as it began, it ended. The pain danced for a moment, as if to sing a farewell to the art it had now bled onto Raxri's very skin. Then it faded. Ampun lifted Raxri's arm to show them the tattoo. It was beautiful: continuous pillars of writing in a script now ancient to them both, it ran down from their shoulder like a magical formula, connected by long straight lines. The end of each line--which, to Raxri, all accumulated together at the bottom of their bicep--would stop at a specific distance. When each line was done, it formed the shape of the upper half of a roaring tiger's face.

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"The tiger," said Ampun Sagara, moving to dip their poker blade into red ink this time. "Is one of the manifestations of Shagara, the King of the Gods. It embodies his ferocity. With this in your grasp, you will overcome the mountain kings and the ocean lords."

"What is the red ink for?" asked Raxri. They realized their breath was shaky from all the adrenaline and pain.

"For the lower half." Then Ampun Sagara set about to completing the lower half of the tiger's maw, creating a beautiful and furious display of power. That went on for a few moments before it was finished. And by the end of it, it was not only Ampun Sagara that was proud, but Raxri as well. The ink blended well with the dusky brown skin of Raxri Uttara.

"It looks good," said Raxri.

Ampun Sagara nodded, proud. "I'm glad you think so. Now." They set to applying the oil to Raxri's other shoulder now. "Let me know if the pain becomes too great for you to weather. We will take a break then."

"It is all right," said Raxri. They looked out the window and saw the sun slowly sinking again under the horizon. "The pain helps me refine my focus."

"This also will consolidate your Will Furnace. No matter what god or king strikes at your memories, your Will will never deteriorate to the basal levels that it did when you awoke in the Vault of Souls."

"Is tattooing a Cultivation practice as well, Ampun Sagara?" asked Raxri.

Ampun Sagara nodded. They were taking their time applying the oils so that they could answer Raxri's question. "It is. There are entire traditions that perform tattooing as cultivation. Though it is slower than the thunderbolt speed of magick and martial arts, it is cultivation all the same. I trained in the far northeastern sandseas of Wadzra, where my immortal master has passed down this specific art to those that brave the stormy seas of his far off island sea cave. Until now I still have not completely perfected the Betik Yantra, the Magic Talisman Hand Tap Tattoo art. And so I travel to cultivate it, applying it to those worthy. Through this, I refine my Will Furnace and move towards enlightenment too."

"That martial art you used..."

"Ah, yes. That was a development of that same immortal master, though he did not like using it," answered Ampun Sagara. "It is the mixing of blade arts, ink magicks, and the tattooing art, allowing us to conjure ink constructs as weaponry. It is a unique blend that only two of us students have managed to learn, while we were there."

"I see."

"Now, meditate once more."

Raxri nodded. Ampun Sagara began poking once again, and they began chanting.

The pain forced Raxri to focus once again. Their contemplative absorption arrived earlier now than before. The monotone pain of the poker became a background sound, white noise, quickly now. Raxri in heart reverence descended into no-thought meditation. This was difficult, even for the monks that specialized in no-thought meditation. But Raxri was immediately snapped out of it as quickly as they descended into it as the thought of Akazha entered their mind. Oh, she would be so proud to know I have my own yantra tattoos now.

They wondered how Akazha was. It had been three moons straight where they hadn't met. Raxri became afeared that, perhaps somehow, Akazha had forgotten who they were. Or was wishing that they would never come back. Raxri bit their lip to stop tears from coming. The pain from the poker pushed them out of this destructive train of thought, and before long Raxri was only focusing on the pain once again.

This one seemed to finish much quicker than before, scarlet maw and all. Blood dripped down Raxri's left arm, drenching even their first shield yantra. Raxri stared at it, fascinated. It ran down slowly, darker than usual blood. They looked at the wound that had caused it, seeing the almost stitching-like pattern of the tattoo. But the tattoo itself was the same gorgeous set of pillars inscribed out of ancient, circular script. The way it was tattooed made it look less like pillar but more like a rain of words, spiralling down.

"Looks like there were sensitive bloodlines here," said Ampun Sagara as they wiped it with fluffed cotton swab. "Thankfully I have a surplus of cotton."

"Oh?"

Ampun Sagara nodded and then gestured with their lips to the falling kapok fibres that floated down like white rain. In the distance were the telltale green and white colors of kapok trees. "Kapok."

"Beautiful. I did not know it was kapok season."

"It is, right now, just a few moons before the end of the Hot Dry season," said Ampun Sagara. "Soon the Wet Hot Winds shall arrive, and overland travel will be exceedingly difficult, as the monsoon will continue and continue." They finished wiping Raxri's hand. "There. Beautiful. How are you holding up?"

"The pain has subsided and been absorped into my meditation," Raxri said. "So it seems I am more than capable of sustaining the pain of a tattoo."

"Good. That's good." They held a different, new poker over the candleflame, heating it up. "Grant me your other arm. I will have to inscribe a mirror to the Shield Yantra on your left arm."

"Ah, yes. Right." Raxri positioned themselves so that they laid their hand across Ampun Sagara's thigh. "Do I have to keep the heart reverence while I have it here?"

Ampun Sagara nodded. "Yes, but you can only do a half heart reverence so that you don't need to move your other arm."

Raxri nodded in affirmative. Ampun Sagara set to poking on Raxri's forearm. The pain was the same, though the blade definitely felt like it was ripping into ripe muscles on Raxri's swordarm.

This one took much quicker compared to the other two tattoos, even though this one wound around Raxri's forearm. It was almost exactly the same as the other tattoo, even down to the spiraling script and the conical arrangement.

Ampun Sagara finished their mantra chanting and placed the poker back in a wooden housing. "There. Finished."

"Really?"

"I'll have to finish the mantras and then the dedications, so that the protective spells become efficacious." Ampun Sagara lathed their hands in the aromatic oils that they used and rubbed it about the new tattoos. As they did, they chanted, closing their eyes and uttering ululations that sent shivers up and down Raxri's spine. When they finished, they scattered grains of rice about the floor, and then they passed a lotus flower around Raxri three times. Then they uttered another mantra, which they repeated three times and uttered at a rapid pace.

At the end of it, Raxri realized all the hairs on their body had lifted. Goosebumps rose across their entire skin. Electricity ran through them, turning into a slow fire as the sensation neared their Liver. After the mantra ended, the last syllable resonating across the silent glade, Raxri felt as if they had just gained new clothing. They felt as if they had just been tempered in fire, and come out completely new, like a block of iron struck into the shape of a sword.

"Now, we are done."

Raxri stood and stretched. They felt their body still aching, shaking just a bit. They turned around and performed the mouth reverence to Ampun Sagara. "Thank you, great tattooist."

Ampun was cleaning his blades and pokers. "I can only hope it will help you."

"I am sure it will, Ampun."

Ampun Sagara smiled and nodded. Outside, the sun was halfway through sinking into the horizon. Raxri wore their robes agan and as Ampun put away his tools after cleaning them thoroughly with fire and blessed water. "The Abbot will be returning for you," he said. "Come, eat a few snacks with me while we wait."

They sat on the front porch. Raxri's legs swung off of the edge. Ampun Sagara sat like a vagrant, hand propped up on a raised knee. They smoked profusely from a pipe. Raxri had asked for a pipe as well and Ampun Sagara lent them his old porcelain pipe. They smoked the pipe as well, this one was pure tobacco instead of gloamblooms. Raxri smoked it all the same.

As they smoked, they picked up pieces of kalamay and ate it. Then they chewed on betel nut, spitting the red globules out onto the grass.

Before them, the glade stretched out. It was larger than the bamboo grove that Raxri and the Abbot trained in. Winds here flowed more freely. The grass was so green they almost seemed blue, waving in the winds. The trees that flanked the glade all looked like they were shrines created by past peoples, to pay reverence to every god in every direction. Since the canopy of the forest broke here, they could see the sky clearly, even as the sun's rays bled the Firmament orange. Despite the Sun's Blasted Rays, Ampun Sagara's section of the glade was kept cool by a giant tree whose branches and leaves created a huge shadow.

"Why are you here, Ampun Sagara?" asked Raxri. "If... it's all right to ask."

Ampun Sagara smiled. He shook his head, saying: "No, it's all right. It was... a very interesting and complicated journey, me getting here." He dragged on his pipe. "I dare not bother you with all the details, that would take another saga to be sung in truth!"

Out of nowhere, Ampun Sagara mentioning singing brought the bidaree Vibujja into Raxri's thoughts. They tucked it away into their mind to ask about it later.

"I was born to a noble family in the far northeastern communities of the Wo Kingdom, somewhere in Wadzra. Due to expectations and abuse from my parents, I fled! I fled and seeked out power. I realized that I needed power, physical strength to exert myself into the world. Did you know what I wanted to be, Raxri Uttara?"

"What?" Raxri took a drag of their pipe, tilting their head to the side.

"I wanted to be a painter." Ampun Sagara laughed. "Ha! What a stupid dream for someone as me. But I had the privilege of dreaming, for I was born nobility. When I went to my Master in that Sea Cave, I was summarily humbled, if you could believe it. Both in terms of culture and in martial arts, I was utterly dominated. I asked for the Master to teach me their ways, and I had to ask them three times. Every day I had to sail back to his sea cave from a shore village named Takjii to beg for him to teach me. On the fourth time, he began my training. That was a grueling experience. I was young, then, but training in the sea cave took almost two decades of my life! At the end of it, I was skilled in the ways of the Betik Yantra, and the martial art that manipulated it, the Inkblade Dance. However, as soon as I returned to Takjii, it was conquered and subsumed into the Wo Empire, led by Dread Generalissimo Sisepo Karasama. They were looking for me."

Ampun Sagara sighed. "Word had gotten out that there was a talisman tattooist in the northeastern region, and they were looking for me. This was during their concerted effort to expand their territories. Takjii, fearing for their own life, sold me out, despite having no quarrel with them. The Wo Empire, Raxri Uttara... they command great magicks borne out of stones. They had great flying skyships powered by Skystones. These magicks struck fear into the hearts of those that dared defy them. Their military innovations surpassed the others in the Utter Islands, save perhaps for the Shennin Society.

"But I did not wish to be chained and wielded like a weapon. I leapt out of the skyship, and serendipity had it that I fell into a whirlpool." Ampun Sagara paused for a moment, suddenly deep in thought. Raxri stared at him, thinking Why isn't this guy dead yet? They chose to keep their thoughts to themselves at that moment. "I can never adequately explain what exactly happened to me at that moment, in truth. I fell and fell through and endless void black. The darkness consumed me, digested me, and eventually I could not distinguish between consciousness and non-consciousness. I think, at that moment, I felt the universe, the very fabric of reality, that thing that arose independently.... And then I somehow awoke. I did not recognize when I had fallen asleep, dream and reality blurred into emptiness. When I awoke, I was in the southern shores of this here island, and it just so happened that there was a monk gathering performing ritual services to the god of Pemi's southern shore."

"I had been given a vision." The voice shook both Raxri Uttara and Ampun Sagara. When they looked, they saw the Abbot arriving, flanked by Yiwaritala and Doctor Myu Fan. Raxri and Ampun rose to their feet and bowed. "A vision by Merciful Hearer Awoken. Someone arrived, that will cultivate merit and Will through rendering his services as a tattooist. During that moment, I was seeking out a tattooist skilled enough to be able to work for the Monastery, and would take refuge in the Monastery. At that moment, I knew it was to be him. He took refuge in the Tristones, and I gave him the Law Name of Ampun Sagara. This meant, 'Adopted of the King of Gods' in Karita, the Elder Tongue."

"Ah!" Raxri said in realization. "So that is why Sagara is so close to Shagara?"

The Abbot nodded. They arrived at the feet of the cottage. The two also bowed to Yiwaritala and Myu Fan. The doctor was already walking up the stairs to check on Raxri's wounds.

Raxri, however, asked, "But, thunderbolt master. If that be true, then why did you not give me a Law Name?"

"That is because," the Abbot said, smiling, "Raxri Uttara was already your Law Name."